#standing in line at the drugstore and this came to me

[fist-of-vengeance]

ben linus the type of guy to behave like a frightened animal while attempting to buy condoms

[call-sign-shark]

✨Angel in Distress✨

Summary: Hangman always takes care of you, but what happens when he discovers that you’re pregnant? Bonus: Bob AGAIIIIIN.

(Part 1: Angel in Disguise || Part 3: Angel in Panic)

Words: 1,5k

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, mention of unprotected sex, funny, extreme fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A second red line appeared on the pregnancy test you held between your hands.

Your heart skipped a beat at such a sight. It all started with Phoenix and you sitting on the warm sand of the beach, discussing boys. While not mentioning Hangman, you told her you had a friend with benefits and that, caught in the middle of the heat,  both of you often forgot about condoms but you were taking the pill, so you never worried about getting pregnant. Even though Phoenix laughed and teased you, she still warned you: birth controls, especially low-dose ones, are not 100% effective. All it took was forgetting it a few times. Her words felt like a punch in the guts. Admittedly you had not been consistent with your birth control lately, for the Uranium mission and Mav’s difficult trainings occupied all your thoughts. By the end of the day, you frequently released the stress with Hangman through steamy intercourses, then you took your shower and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Natasha had barely left when you rushed to the local drugstore to buy two pregnancy tests coming from two different brands, which both turned out positive.

“I’m fucked.”  

These were the only words that came from your lips, carried by your shaky breathing.  You, a skilled and dauntless naval aviator who never thought about building a family, were pregnant. Even worse, the one whose seed belonged to was a cocky pilot who did not seem to want a serious and stable relationship. You pressed one of your cold palms against your forehead, eyes wide open in awe as you realized the whole situation. Your child’s father was Jake Hangman Seresin. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest that, at this point, you were pretty sure it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crippling anxiety crept through your body, weighting in your chest, and forming a ball of sobs in your throat. 

“Are you okay?” You heard Jake’s voice through the bathroom’s door.

Silence. 

The tall pilot frowned, a hint of worry glimmering in his beautiful green eyes. He waited one full minute before grabbing the handle and opening the door. His gaze caught sight of your trembling frame, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Back bent, teary eyes set on a pregnancy test you were holding between your hands, you remained petrified.

“Hey babe, what happens?” He asked, quietly. Jake did not see the pregnancy test yet, so for a moment he thought he did something bad. 

“This,” you answered in a calm yet cold voice, “This,” you repeated, showing him the positive pregnancy test. It did not take more than a few seconds for Jake to understand the whole situation. Millions of thoughts rushed to his brain, fogging his mind with fear, anxiety, surprise, and confusion. Paralyzed by the crushing news, all he could do was stand there, mouth open like an idiot. The confident and arrogant Hangman had been replaced by a stupid-looking scarecrow. To be true, you would have laughed your arse off if you were not the one pregnant. 

“You don’t want this, do you?” You said softly, your sweet voice candy-coated with undeniable sadness.  The pregnancy test fell from your hands, for you released it gently on the ground. Jake did not answer, he was unable to do so. The cocky pilot is still staring at you, his green emerald eyes observing each delicate feature of your face as if he expected to find a solution hidden in them. His silence broke your heart - what were you expecting? You were not officially together. Gosh, he did not even love you.

“Yeah, you’re totally ecstatic” You spat sarcasm as a snake spitting poison, “Nevermind, do what you do the best and leave me hanging.”  This time you had to turn your head to the side, unable to keep yourself from crying anymore. Crystal tears started to overflow from your eyes, forming wild rivers on your cheeks.

How could you be so beautiful, even when you were crying? Hangman shook his head, coming back to his senses.

“Listen-”

“Serves me right to love the adrenaline of fucking you! Now I’m fucking pregnant, you’re going to leave and I’ll have to stop flying in my jet  for at least 9 freaking months!” You started sobbing, hugging yourself in your cold arms. Usually, you made a point of honor not to show any weakness to Hangman, but it was all too much to handle. “I’m so scared…” You whispered to yourself, almost forgetting Jake’s presence. Somehow, your unconscious already did not rely on him to help you.

Jake gathered all his remaining strength, overcoming his own anxiety, and walked towards you. He placed himself between your legs and fell on his knees. His two large and warm hands gently laid on your thighs, massaging their inner parts with his thumbs. 

“Then we can be scared together.” 

You stopped crying, awestruck by what he just said. Yet, you probably misheard him. Confused, your glimmering eyes looked at him. Jake’s heart melt when your mesmerizing gaze met his: a faint but oh-so-sincere smile stretched his thin lips as he enjoyed the magnificent sight of your face.  Your eyes tearing, your sad pout, you looked like an angel someone just hurt. The pilot took a deep breath. From the moment he carried you to bed, kissing your lips in that dark corridor, Jake knew he was fucked. He, who had never fallen in love, was smitten. Smitten with the fearless yet vulnerable pilot you were. And this time, he did not want to fuck it all up.

“I know what you think about me, and I can’t blame you. Hell, I would have probably run away if it had not been you - and I’m not proud of that. But - “ He paused, taking another deep breath in an attempt to organize his thoughts and feelings “ I’ll hold your hand. No matter what happens to us in this life, I’ll be always there to hold your hand.” 

“But you don’t love me. You keep telling me we’re just having fun, no strings attached.” You shook your head. “Why would-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jake cut you in the middle of your sentence, only to gently cup your adorable face with his hands. His emerald eyes dove into yours, probing your very soul, “Did you ever wonder how you would wake up cozy in your bed after falling asleep in the meeting room?  Did you wonder why your fridge never runs out of your favorite drink?” His voice is a bit strict, even though his tone is still coated with tenderness, “Never wondered how there’s always a bucket, a bottle of water, and ibuprofen on your nightstand after you wasted yourself at the Hard Deck?” 

“Jake.” You blinked several times.

“I am anxious each time I lost sight of your plane during training and missions. I get fucking jealous every time a dude tries to hit on you” He laughed nervously, shaking his head. Jake’s thumbs gently rubbed your cheeks, “So don’t ever tell me I don’t love you,” 

Your heart sunk at his words and your mind gave up all anger at the mere sight of Hangman’s perfect smile. You sniffed, nose a bit runny because of your sobs, and Jake found you even more charming. Unable to proceed properly with what he just said, your tongue reacted quicker than your brain.

“All I want to do is punch you in the face but I love you so much so I don’t mean it.” You pouted, freeing your face from his hands like a sulking kid. Jake could not help but laugh. A hearty laugh, “Fuck, we’re going to have a baby… Got a baby Seresin in my belly…” You whispered, still not believing it, “ What are we going to do now, Jake?” 

“I’m going to tell you what we’re going to do.” Jake stood up, his soothing smile turning into his casual cocky, and flat-lipped grin, the kind of grin that made you want to slap his face but also made you want to spread your legs, “Come here!” Without the slightest warning, the blonde pilot carried you bride-style.

“Uh? What the hell Jake?!” You shout, surprised by being suddenly lifted from the edge of the bathtub you were sitting on.

“Well, I’m going to put you in your bed and cover you with warm, cozy blankets. Then, I’m going to buy a huge cup of ice cream we’re going to eat in front of your favorite movie. Disney included. The only exceptions are musicals.” He said, kicking the bathroom door open and laying your body on the comfortable mattress with indescribable tenderness, “Got it?”

“Got it.” You answered with a slight small, your heart beating hard.

Jake winked at you and left the bedroom. Admittedly, he was terrified. He had never thought about having a baby, and here he was, ready to buy ice cream for his pregnant girlfriend. Hell, he was afraid, but he could not deny the sparkle of joy he felt within. He had always been a family man.

As long as you were beside him, he knew everything would be fine. 

He closed the bedroom door, turned around, and jumped at the sudden apparition of Bob behind him.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN! I’m really going to put a damn bell around your neck!” He grumbled, pressing one hand against his pounding heart. “How come you always appear in that damn dark hallway, out of no-fucking-where?” 

“Told ya, I snack at night.”  The tall WSO said, readjusting his glasses on his nose awkwardly. He stared at Jake for a while, silently.

“What’s your problem, Floyd?” Jake asked, slightly embarrassed. 

“You should buy strawberries alongside ice cream. And chocolate. A lot of chocolate. My Aunt would not stop eating chocolate when she was pregnant.” 

Jake opened his mouth, struck with surprise. He looked at Bob as if he was some kind of wizard. How the hell did he know that? Bob was starting to scare the hell out of him.

Witnessing the stupefied look on Hangman’s face, the WSO shrugged and opened his own bedroom door. Yet, he took a quick last glance at Jake.

“By the way… Don’t fuck it up, Bagman. She needs you.” He said, before disappearing into his room. 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

2 prompts used from @marvelhead17's pregnancy prompts

[sunlightandsuffering]

CONDOM BUYING CONTINUATION!

Eren stands in the grocery store, discretely eyeing up the aisles while Armin stands next to him nervously, Mikasa on his other side, attached to his hip, her arm linked with his. "It has to be this one," He proclaims boldly to the two and with confidence, he leads his best friend and girlfriend down the aisle vaguely labelled 'hygiene', the third aisle they've tried so far.

They find nothing but cleaning products and deodorant and Eren is ready to give up, do grocery stores not sell condoms anymore? "Oh my god," Mikasa clicks her tongue, "You two are so useless, follow me." She leads them to the next aisle over, where feminine hygiene products can be found, and there, next to the tampons and pads is the condom section. "I knew it all along I was just testing you Mika." She pinches his arm before leaning up for a kiss, long and slow, and she tastes like lemon today, her lips soft and still flavoured with the tart she was eating when she came over and Eren resists the urge to pull her in deeper.

"Whatever you say 'Ren."

He catches her by the waist before she can twist from his grasp, locking into his arms as Armin makes a disgusted noise, "You two are gross." Armin huffs as he squats down to look over the colourful array of condoms, "So what should I get?" "No fucking clue," Eren tells him casually from over Mikasa's shoulder, "Baby do you know?" She shakes her head, her hair brushing against his nose and he smells the faintest whiff of vanilla from her shampoo, he can't resist dropping another little kiss to her temple for good measure for being so cute and smelling so good and being so undeniably Mikasa. "Why did you two even come?" "To help you find the condom aisle," Mikasa supplies and Eren nods, teasing his friend "I just wanted to make fun of you, look Mika, they have sex toys too!" His girlfriend groans as he becomes distracted by the nearby vibrator, like a kid on Christmas.

"Should we get one?" He asks, his hand slipping down to tease at the line of her jeans, his lips finding her ear, "Could be fun!" Mikasa's face is colouring rapidly and he figures maybe he should tone it down a bit.

Armin huffs in irritation, "Stop flirting and help me you assholes." "Fine," Eren grumbles, letting go of Mikasa to kneel down next to his friend, he begins fingering through brands at a rapid pace. He may not use condoms, but he still remembers the good old days of puberty, rolling up to the drugstore after the puberty talk, self assured that he'd buy a box and use them with gusto.

Of course then he'd slept with Mikasa without one and decided rather promptly that condoms just weren't for him.

Spoiler alert: the box had never been used and he's pretty sure Mikasa had thrown them away when she'd found them in his room a couple months ago, afraid Carla would see and think they were up to naughty activities. Which of course they were, but she didn't need any evidence.

He looks back up at Mikasa to wink briefly before he begins his sage advice.

"These ones are glow in the dark, that's a bit much." Armin nods in acceptance, and Eren continues his perusal, "These are probably too small, I know what you're packing buddy." Eren pats Armin's arm reassuringly and Mikasa whistles at their friend who looks unbelievably uncomfortable. "These ones suck, these ones have a shitty logo, avoid those, and these ones-" "Eren I think that's enough," Mikasa teases him, "You're talking a lot of shit for someone who never uses them." "I'm trying to help!"

"Ignore him, Armin just get these trojans or something I feel like that's fine."

"Which size?" Mikasa makes a face, "I'd get a few sizes umm, just in case you know." "In case of what?" "In case they don't fit, because I can umm tell you from experience, you won't want to go the drugstore again to replace them." Eren looks at Mikasa smugly, the smirk practically engulfing his face and MIkasa brings a hand up to his cheek to shove him away while Eren cackles. "I don't want to know do I?" Armin questions. Mikasa blushes, shaking her head, "You really don't, just trust me, get a few sizes okay?"

"Thanks Mikasa."

"Are you sure you don't want these glow in the dark ones Armin? They look cool." "I'm going to kill you Eren." "Ooh they also have cherry flavour, but what are those for?" "Blowjobs," Mikasa supplies helpfully and he makes a face, "Why would you use a condom for a blowjob." "Have you ever practiced safe sex in your entire life?" Armin asks in exasperation and Eren shrugs innocently, he thinks the question is valid, why would you use a condom for a blowjob??? "No," Mikasa answers for him, "Never in his life." Eren beams, "And I won't be anytime soon because I have Mika baby right here and she's STD free and happy to blow me without a condom."

Mikasa sighs, and Eren takes this as his opportunity to slip into the feminine hygeine section of the aisle, "Baby you need more tampons right?" "Yes Eren," her reply is exasperated and Armin does not look impressed as he kneels in front of the large array of condoms. "How do you put up with him?" Mikasa shrugs, "It's the good sex, that's about it." "Hey!" Eren snaps back, turning around, a pout painted on his face, "I heard that, I'm good for other things too you know!" A reluctant smile curves his girlfriend's lips and she shakes her head fondly, "I guess, now go get me some chocolate from the candy aisle, we'll meet you at the front." Eren huffs before taking off in search of M&M candies, how ungrateful they are for his wealth of knowledge.

Ridiculous.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

The Recital (Jasyasco-Vampire AU)

Here's the first installment of the Vampire AU! It's looking like vampire au's are making a bit of a come back, so here's my contribution! CW for Major Character Death at the very end (since the undead has to be you know...dead)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jasmine had a feeling of excitement and nervousness for the winter recital of the dance studio that evening. It was her first year teaching a dance class by herself, and her students had their first-ever performance in the recital. But she was not thinking of that at all, since she was waiting for two important guests to arrive.

Jasmine stood on her tip-toes, behind the table of parent volunteers selling door tickets in the lobby of the rented theater. She scanned the line of various families and other community members who awaited to see the recital. She heard a voice next to her in the crowded room "You know that they'll be here soon. you just have to be patient." Jasmine turned to see one of the other teachers at the studio, Rosé standing next to her.

"I know, but I just want to make sure they get here on time and get good seats." Jasmine continued to look through the crowd as she talked to her friend. She waved at a couple of parents of her students, but no sign of who she was looking for.

Rosé continued talking next to her "Hey, so me and a bunch of the other staff are going to have a sleepover at my family's cabin after the recital. If you want to go, you can ride with me since it's a little bit out of the city." the auburn-haired woman told her.

Jasmine glanced over at her, "Really? That sounds fun! Who's all going?"

"Well, it'll be us and-" she was interrupted when Jasmine spotted two tall women holding hands, walking into the lobby.

"I see them! I gotta go, bye!" Jasmine quickly left her friend and weaved through the crowd, making a beeline for her girlfriends. She saw that they noticed her getting through the line, and both smiled as she crash-landed into their arms.

"I'm so happy you guys made it!" Jasmine beamed as her head tilted up to kiss Bosco on her left, and then Daya to her right.

"Like this was hard to forget, you've been talking about this recital non-stop for two weeks," Bosco told her, as they all knew that was the truth.

"But your kids are going to do great tonight since they have the best dance teacher in the world." Daya beamed at her. "How are you feeling about tonight?" she asked Jasmine.

"I'm pretty excited and a little nervous for the performance tonight. But I'm hoping that tonight is unforgettable." She saw Bosco pointing to the back of the lobby and turned around to see the studio's lead ballet teacher, Camden, trying to wave Jasmine toward the back of the stage. She held her pointer finger to Camden and turned to face her girlfriends again. "I need to go help start warm-ups, but I'll see you two after the show?"

Bosco and Daya nodded and confirmed they will meet her outside after the recital is over. Jasmine hugged them again as a goodbye and felt both of them kiss her on the top of her head. "Bye, I love you both!" she smiled and spun on her heel to follow Camden through the door.

Bosco turned to Daya when the door shut behind Jasmine. "Do you think it's noticeable that I got lipstick in her hair?" She asked as she pulled a long blonde hair from her lips, now with a bright red mark running down the center.

Daya let out a small laugh "I think Jas has too much energy right now to notice it herself. Hopefully, Cam will take care of it for her."

The recital came and went, and all the numbers went flawlessly. During intermission, Bosco was able to sneak out to the drugstore across the street and buy a fresh rose bouquet with a small card attached to congratulate her. She and Daya waited outside the lobby, talking with the other straggling parents and partners of the dance studio staff, waiting for the staff to finish clearing out the theater. They both passed the time talking with Angeria as the three waited for their partners on the cold, December night.

They heard the stage door open from around the corner open, with a small group of dance teachers walking out, all carrying athletic duffel bags with them. They spotted Jasmine's dance bag in the crowd, bright blue and silver, with her initials embodied on, next to two small pins of a dragonfly and a bat. Jasmine walked closer and noticed the bouquet in Bosco's hands, and speed-walked up to her girlfriends. She hugged them both, as the bouquet was passed into her arms.

"You two got me flowers? That's so sweet of you!" she took the card and flipped it open, reading the message before kissing both of her girlfriends, one after the other.

"Your girls did so well in their number, they have the best teacher." Daya smiled at her, feeling proud of Jasmine for her accomplishment of the night.

"Yeah, they did great, especially since this was their first performance," Bosco added, wrapping an arm around Jasmine's waist.

The group noticed another dance teacher walk up to them, putting a hand on Jasmine's shoulder to get her attention.

"Hey Jasmine, are you still coming to the sleepover tonight?" Rosé asked her.

Jasmine looked at her friend, after being reminded about the conversation from before. "Oh, right! Yeah, I still want to go, it sounds like fun." She looked to her partners. "I forgot to tell you two about the sleepover at Rosé’s tonight, but I think a lot of the other staff are going too. Is it okay with you if I go tonight?"

Bosco and Daya looked at each other and nodded at Jasmine. "Yeah, of course, you can go. Do you have everything you need or do we need to drop some stuff off for you?" Bosco asked her.

Jasmine thought for a second, going through a mental checklist. She shook her head "I have a change of clothes in my bag, a phone charger, and my estrogen shot I need to take in the morning. I don't think I need anything from the apartment." She looked down at the roses in her arms, and added "Oh, can one of you please put these in water for me when you get home?"

The two nodded at her, and Daya took the roses back from Jasmine. "Okay, if you're sure that you got everything. We'll see you in the morning then?"

Rosé answered for Jasmine, "Of course, I'll be sure to bring her back in one piece, I promise." She laughed jokingly, luckily the others laughed with her.

Jasmine hugged both of her girlfriends goodbye, and let them both kiss her as well. "I'll see you two in the morning, okay? If I need anything, I'll text one of you. I love you two. Bye!" Jasmine waved as she followed Rosé to her car in the parking lot of the theater.

Bosco and Daya waved back, before turning to the direction of their apartment, walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. "I bet you that she'll forget something before midnight," Bosco said to Daya as they got out of earshot.

Daya shook her head, "Have you seen inside her dance bag? She's got practically everything in that thing. I'm pretty sure she could live the rest of her life from that just bag." Daya joked as the two laughed together. "How about since Jasmine is gone for the night, we have a Saw marathon tonight? We never get to watch anything horror when we have our scaredy-cat girlfriend at home."

"You drive a hard bargain, Betty. It's a deal."

Jasmine looked at the time on the radio display of Rosé's car. They had been driving for about an hour, and the other vehicles on the road have lessened the further out they drove. She checked her phone and noticed that there was no cell phone service available either. Rosé’s voice next to her pulled her from her thoughts.

"We'll be at the cabin soon. It's a little far out of cell phone reception, I forgot to mention that earlier." She explained to Jasmine.

The car soon pulled into a gravel driveway leading up to an old cabin. Jasmine looked around once she got out of the car, and asked "Where's everyone else? I thought you said the other dance teachers would be here." She followed Rosé into the cabin, walking into the living room.

"Oh, we won't have to worry about them. They're going to be fine." Rosé said as she set down her bag on the couch and walked to the other side of the room to turn on the lights. Jasmine looked around the room, noticing how bare the room felt, only a decorative mirror was hung on the wall.

"Are you sure? They might get lost trying to find their way here." Jasmine put her bag on a reclining chair, turning to look out the window.

Rosé walked up behind her, "Oh, I wouldn't worry about them if I were you." Her ice-cold hands reached up to Jasmine's neck, resting on both sides of her head. Jasmine looked in the mirror, suddenly frozen in fear. The last thing she saw was her reflection staring back at her.

But Rosé’s reflection was nowhere to be seen.

SNAP

Jasmine's lifeless body collapsed to the floor, unmoving. Rosé kneeled over the body, moving the clothes from the neck. She felt her fangs protrude from the rest of her teeth, as the hard part of her job was over.

Now she can finally feed.

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 The Miracle of Living Pt.1 (Bianca Del Rio/BenDeLaCreme ig??) - Lita 

In this world we're just beginning  To understand the miracle of living

Hello everyone! Welcoe to the long-awaited prequel to the Bitney San Junipero AU that I technically started writing five years ago (???) but recently decided to try and breathe new life into and complete. In theory this can stand alone as its own story with a few vague references to Black Mirror future tech sprinkled in, but it's really just setup to the main fic that kind of got away from me. The story has gotten a complete overhaul, so if anyone from Ye Olden Days remembers it - please do stick around and read this new version, I promise it's better. 

Massive thank you to @veronicasanders for giving me the kick up the ass required to get this story back off the ground, throwing her ideas at me, and being my Google when it comes to divorce court and the American college system. Love you mom - I hope this story is everything you'd dreamed of <3

Summary: Bianca is twenty-one, flunking college, and - thanks to a night of drunk bad decision-making - she's pregnant with her gay best friend's baby. 

Los Angeles, California

 January 17th, 2022

“BEN!” 

Bianca’s furious voice rings out through the small apartment. She’s sitting on the toilet with her pajama pants and underwear around her ankles, willing the second blue line to disappear. If anything, it’s getting darker. 

“Uh…yeah?” The reply comes from the other side of the bathroom door.  

“I thought you said you wore a fucking condom!”

“I did!” Ben protests. Then, meek and cautious: “...It might have split.” 

“It might have what?”

Two and a half months ago, Bianca and Ben had gone out drinking to commiserate the ends of their respective relationships - Ben had found out about his long-term boyfriend’s secret Grindr profile and dumped him, then Bianca’s longest-lasting FWB had called it quits with her less than a week later. When they got home, drunk and dumb and miserable, they’d started making out with each other on the couch - as a joke, just for something to do. And then, since they were shitfaced and apparently didn’t know any better, one ‘joke’ led to another, and they’d woken up naked in Ben’s bed. They had laughed it off the morning after, hunched at the kitchen table over alka-seltzer and black coffee - too much liquor, too many emotions. Shit happens. 

And then tonight, Bianca had mentioned offhand that she was incredibly overdue her period, and suggested going out to buy a test half as a joke. Ben had gone along with it a little too willingly, and he’d been overly-energised and super fucking weird on the walk to the drugstore. Really, Bianca should have known something was up when he detoured via the liquor store across the street, and came back with two bottles of tequila. 

“Ben, are you fucking kidding me?” Bianca says through her teeth. 

“I was gonna tell you,” Ben replies, sounding flustered. “Is the door locked? Can I come in?”

Bianca wants to say no, but it was Ben’s curiosity about her vagina that got them here in the first place, so who cares about whether or not he sees her now? She reaches over to turn the lock. Ben shuffles into the room in his leopard-print boxers and an oversized pajama shirt, and perches on the edge of the bathtub, looking at the floor. 

Part of Bianca wants to burst into tears - another part of her wants to scream until she throws up. Not now. Not fucking now - not like this. She’s twenty-one; Bianca doesn’t even know that she wants a goddamn kid at all, forget about one fathered by her gay best friend. 

“Look, I didn’t notice until after we were done. And I didn’t want to freak you out - I figured it would probably be nothing, and then there was never a good time, and then you told me you were late and I…” 

“You’re a faggot, we were hammered, we fucked because we thought it would be funny - if you knew that there was any chance whatsoever that you’d knocked me up, you should have fucking told me!” Bianca snarls through gritted teeth. 

Ben doesn’t say anything for a moment. He doesn’t really react either. He just sits there and looks at her; composed, taking it in. 

Bianca met Ben at a theater summer camp when they were sixteen. Ben had just moved from Seattle; he was about to start junior year at the private school across town. They led fundamentally different lives - Bianca had found herself seethingly jealous of him and his cakewalk of a fucking existence when she first met him, resolved that she had no other choice but to hate him on premise. But they’d been assigned as duet partners for the end-of-summer showcase and, faced with no other choice but to get along with him, she’d discovered that they were fucking made for each other. Ben didn’t mind that Bianca was kind of a bitch; he laughed at her jokes, he seemed to understand her. All three qualities she’d never experienced from other kids her age. One juvenile performance of Waltz for Eva and Che later, and she’d found an apparent friend for life. 

And then, once high school drew to a close and Bianca was confronted head-on with the unblinking abyss of her future and its hopelessness, he’d offered her an exit route. He was freaked out by the idea of sharing a dorm with a stranger, so his dad had eventually relented after months of begging to privately rent an apartment - he just needed a roommate. She’d never expected that that offer would land her here. 

“So, you’re pregnant?” He asks cautiously. 

“Yeah - no shit, Sherlock.”

“Do you think you should take another one? To make sure or whatever?” Ben asks. Bianca presses the heel of her hand to her temple, still not breaking eye contact with the pregnancy test. 

“Nope - that looks pretty positive to me,” Bianca shows it to him, wiping the mist of stress-sweat from her brow. Ben pulls a vaguely disgusted face. There’s a moment of pause - Bianca bites her lip, struggling to make sense of the messy cocktail of emotions swirling around inside her head. 

“Are you okay?” Ben tries to take Bianca’s hand. It feels weirdly violating to have someone touching her while she’s sitting on the toilet. She swats him away. 

“I think so. I need a little time to get my head around…everything.” Bianca grits her teeth. 

All the scary new problems are dawning on her all at once, like she’s being descended on by a swarm of wasps. College. How to tell her parents. Hospital bills. College again. The apartment is too small for another person. She’ll probably be a shitty mother. Ben. Ben’s pending status as an absent father. She’s never changed a diaper before. College. Fucking college.  

She’s currently scraping through year number four of her two-year community college program. Which, as it turns out, only takes two years if you aren’t working full-time to try and keep yourself fed and housed. Ben’s impending graduation from USC - full ride for a screenwriting major, family that gave a shit about him - made that feel even more grim.  

This whole convoluted, stupid journey to something better had felt both never-ending and deeply hopeless for the last thirty-six months, and now the whole endeavor is decisively fucked. Even if she does make it to that prophesied something better - enough credits to earn her a spot in the fashion merchandising major she’d been declined acceptance to straight out of high school - there’s no way she can handle real college with a fucking screaming infant permanently attached to her. She can feel the dream crumbling in her hands.  

Bianca makes a silent resolution that she’s not putting her own kid - who still feels very much like a hypothetical even though it very much isn’t - through the same shit. You’re eighteen now, you’re not our problem any more. It really didn’t help that every screaming argument with her mom in the leadup to her high school graduation had been silently spectated by her brother - in all his uneducated, unemployed, twenty-seven year old glory - from his position fossilized into the living room couch with his PlayStation controller in his hand. We’re not paying for you to stay in this house and fuck your life up - why her specifically? 

Her desire not to be their problem had trailed her from NOLA to LA with Ben, and that was its own issue. She leaves on her terms and she’s abandoning her family, even though it was their sharp insistence that she got a job or an apartment or fucking something else that didn’t involve her living at home and taking up too much space that had pushed her in that direction in the first place. What the fuck was there for her at home anyway? Community college and shitty waitressing jobs? At least she could do the same shit against a prettier backdrop on the other side of the country. 

Bianca realizes she’s staring dementedly at the test in her hand again. She sniffs, trying to blink away tears she hadn’t noticed forming.

“I really didn’t see being a single mom in my life plan,” she mutters - thinking out loud.

Except she had. In her bleaker moments - the ones in which she was seventeen and terrified of what would happen if she never got out of her hometown. She hadn’t had that nightmare since she and Ben had packed his car and left at the beginning of September four years ago. 

“Who says you have to be a single mom?” Ben tilts his head, reaching a hand out for her again. 

Bianca scoffs. 

“What? No- Ben, I really don’t want to date you - one night was bad enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. But like…if you’re gonna go through with this, I’m not just leaving you by yourself to do it. Both of us did something dumb, and now we’re here - so, both of us should have to parent the consequence.” 

There’s a quiet, sympathetic smile on Ben’s face. Bianca still wants to fucking kill him. She eyes him up, searching for any hints of deception or fake-niceness. Surprisingly, he passes the on-the-spot analysis. 

“You’re just saying that so I stop being mad at you.”

“No! Anyway, I can’t let you raise it by yourself - I love you, but the world really, really doesn’t need two of you.”

“Ha-ha, go suck a dick,” Bianca rolls her eyes. She can’t help but crack a smile. 

“If this is what happens when I try to go outside my comfort zone, then yeah, that’s what I’m sticking to.”  

****

2nd May, 2022

“That was less excruciating than I thought it would be,” Bianca arches her back as she perches on the edge of the bed, stretching out. Her hair is still elaborately styled; what little of her makeup had survived the day still on her face.

She’d abandoned her dress on the floor the second that they got to their hotel room. She’s basically naked, which Ben seems perplexingly unbothered by; married, heterosexual life seems to have changed him quicker than she thought it would. It’s a relief, finally being alone with him. She’d have preferred to actually be alone, but after a day of forced smiles and overwhelm, he was better than nothing. 

“Absolutely,” Ben nods, sitting down to untie his shoes. He’s still wearing his tux - his black curls are coiffed back from his face, and he’d almost pass for straight, were it not for his meticulously groomed eyebrows. “I mean, I could have done with maybe seventy percent less beer and sports talk from your dad - I was starting to think he was onto me.” 

“I thought everyone knew there’s no home runs in football - that’s not a gay thing, you’re just dumb.” 

The shotgun wedding hadn’t really been a part of the plan, but after Bianca’s mom had found out that she was pregnant, and then proceeded to call her non-stop for weeks in order to berate her for bringing shame on the family like it was the fucking 1800s, Ben had suggested it. Her mother’s bizarre and endlessly changing standards of behavior continue to baffle Bianca.  

The decision to go ahead with it seemed a bit weird, but ‘weird’ had become a default preset of Bianca’s existence since January. Ben had thrown himself into the organization with immediate, over-the-top passion - opening up Pinterest and starting on the moodboard five minutes after Bianca had agreed to it. It had kept him entertained and out of the way, which was nice - he’d already started reading parenting books, and was being a little overbearing about prenatal vitamins and whether or not Bianca had made her birth plan yet. 

Outside of picking out her dress, Bianca hadn’t really had to do or think about anything. Marrying a gay man had its perks. She’d had a brief reprieve from Ben’s preemptive helicopter parenting, which gave her more energy to focus on finding bigger apartments, since otherwise the kid would be sleeping in the closet, and trying to convince her job that no, four weeks definitely wasn’t enough maternity leave. 

The wedding day had been quietly excruciating - her family, her mom specifically, engaging in that grim unspoken facade of keeping up appearances. Pretending that everything was completely fine and normal, denying any knowledge of Bianca’s pregnancy when asked about it. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking normal for her. The atmosphere had been thorny, and Bianca had spent most of the day choking back alcohol-free prosecco and waiting for it to be over. 

Ben’s family - who seemed confused but generally enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, probably only half-buying Ben’s assertion that he was actually bi and Bianca was definitely the one - seemed to like Bianca though, and that was refreshing. Some kind of normalcy in As Yet Unnamed Kid’s extended family was deeply necessary. They, and Ben himself, had been the only bearable part of the whole thing. Plus they’d fronted most of the expenses and organized the reception at their country club, which was a damn sight better than the social hall of the church that Bea’s family pretended to attend. 

“Anyway, I’ve got proof that we’ve fucked at least once, so I don’t think anyone was super suspicious,” Ben continues as Bianca flops back onto the plush bed, letting out a heavy sigh. “How is she doing?” 

“She’s fine - she let Mommy keep all of her food down today, so that’s something,” Bianca says. 

She’s kind of starting to show now; although just to the point where she looks spectacularly bloated, rather than recognisably pregnant. They didn’t actually know what gender she was yet - but Bea had a feeling. Maybe it was more of a hope, actually; if it was a boy, Ben got to pick the name, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about calling it Raphael. 

The kid had been a little bitch recently - whenever Bianca tried to complain about it, Ben would just laugh and remind her that she clearly took after her mom. After a lot of smugness about how she’d not had morning sickness at all, it hit her like a truck for some reason the moment she hit her second trimester. She’d spent the better part of the month before the wedding bent over a toilet bowl. Bianca is already pretty fucking sick of being pregnant, and she’s not even halfway done - she’s always tired, and her boobs hurt, and she misses comfortable sleep and coffee. She thought that nine months with no booze would be the hard part, but dragging herself through life without caffeine is proving to be the real kicker. 

“This is weird,” Bianca muses, staring up at the ceiling.  

“What’s weird?” Ben turns to look at her, eyes landing on and then immediately flashing away from her exposed tits.  

“Try and think about it for like, slightly longer than you wanna think about it. You’re my husband, and I’m pregnant with your kid,” she says plainly. “In what universe was that ever something either of us would have wanted a year ago?" 

“Okay, so maybe you’re kind of messy and annoying, and you talk with your mouth full like, all the time and it’s really gross, but I can think of worse people to spend the rest of my life with,” he shrugs. Bianca swats at him with a pillow. 

“Thanks a lot.” She aims for pissed, but a smile cracks its way through. “Anyway, it’s not the rest of our lives - play pretend for a few years, then split up and go and live our truths or whatever once she moves out, like we agreed,” Bianca says. Ben nods knowingly.  

That was another aspect of things that she was a little hesitant about. Ben had meant what he said about sticking around and raising the kid, but they’d always planned for something more like coparenting. They’d have the baby, and then grow the fuck up and get their own relationships and apartments and lives while splitting custody. 

So, the sham marriage thing had interfered with that master plan quite a fucking lot. The situation had divulged into a years-long commitment to lying to people - no dating, since what was gonna happen when the kid started talking and blabbed to whatever set of grandparents about Daddy’s boyfriend? They were gonna be stuck living together for the foreseeable. So, even more keeping up of fucking appearances, which Bianca can’t stand doing it. But the ring on her finger is a glaring, expensive sign that she’s already committed.  

They’d talked about it already; pretend to everyone, including the kid, that everything was entirely fine and normal until she was old enough to understand it, get a divorce in about eighteen years, and go their separate ways while continuing to be friends if they could still stand the sight of each other. Easy. 

“Thinking about it like that just makes it sound worse,” Ben leans back to lie next to her, loosening his tie. “It’s gonna be fine. One step at a time.”

“Sure,” Bianca replies, distant. 

“I mean,” Ben rolls over onto his side, lowering his eyelids into an expression that Bianca imagines is supposed to be seductive. “It is our wedding night - how about round two?”

“Ew - no, never.” Bianca cracks a smile, pushing him away. Ben laughs. 

“Thank god, I barely got through saying that without puking.” He starts unbuttoning his shirt and glancing around the expansive bridal suite - still a mess from Bea getting ready that morning. “Do you want me to take the couch?”  

Bianca thinks for a second.

“Nah - that doesn't feel fair. I’ve been averaging getting up to pee about ten times a night though, so you can look forward to that.” She looks down at her belly, putting both hands around her barely-noticeable bump. “I hope you know you’re already a gigantic pain in my ass, baby.”  

****

September 29th, 2022  

Ben had left to go and get coffee - which is probably a good thing, since Bianca was getting tired of looking at him. He’d been…way too intensely supportive, to an extent that she’d found a little smothering. But at least he’d been there. Throughout the last nine months, Bianca had been worried that he was eventually going to get sick of her shit and leave her to deal with it by herself. She’d given him no shortage of shit to get sick of. 

The epidural hasn’t quite worn off yet; Bianca has no idea what sort of state her pussy is in, and she’s not sure she wants to know. She’s sweaty and exhausted, but she feels…good. For some reason. 

Her water had broken that morning. Ben had been at work - fatherhood looming over him and in desperate need of something more secure than his old three shifts a week at TGI Fridays, he’d picked up a job doing data entry or some other boring crap in an office full of middle-aged straight women about two months ago. Apparently it had been hilarious to watch his reputation as the super fun token gay guy shatter in real time when he’d announced to his boss in front of most of his coworkers that he had to leave because his wife had just gone into labor. 

Yeah, he’d been fucking insufferable with the constant ‘you’re doing amazing’s, but he was trying his best. Bea couldn’t exactly be mad at him - he’d just put up with eight hours of her screaming bloody murder and telling everyone who came near her to go fuck themselves. And she’s pretty sure she’d been gripping his hand so tightly she came close to breaking a couple of his fingers. 

The room is quiet now. It’s bliss, compared to the chaos of the last few hours - the mad rush of doctors and nurses and blood and sweat and swearing. It’s getting dark outside, the glow of the city lights flickering through the thin curtains. There’s a plastic crib next to Bianca’s bed, with a pink label on its side. Adore Del Rio, 6lbs 3oz. 

No matter how disgusting and tiring her day has been - and it was really tiring, and really, really fucking disgusting - a sense of enormous, beautiful calm had washed over Bianca when she held her daughter for the first time. Her daughter. 

She’d never felt anything like this before, looking down at the tiny, squishy, pink bundle in her arms. She’s asleep now, wrapped in a blanket and held to Bea’s bare chest. She’s so…little, and so delicate, Bianca thinks as Adore - her fucking daughter - wriggles and murmurs, reaching up for her with one perfect, miniature hand. The delicate curls of her wispy brown hair, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as Bianca holds her close - she can’t believe that she fucking made her. She’s so perfect, and so goddamn fucking small - and Bianca feels both blissfully zen, and absolutely ready to tear anybody who tries to take Adore away from her limb from limb. 

She’s barely been here for an hour, and Bianca loves her more than she’s ever loved anything else before. 

*****

March 18th, 2041

“Did you finish your homework last night?”

“Yes.” Adore, lacking in any semblance of enthusiasm, grunts from the kitchen table; pulling out one of her earbuds and looking at Bianca with a mix of indignation and fury.   

“Then how come I’m getting emails from the school - again - about you not turning it in?” Bianca places the last clean plate on the dishrack and turns around, leaning against the counter and drying her wet hands on the ass of her jeans. That fails to elicit any form of response from her asshole teenager, and she tries again. “Come the fuck on, Dorey- it’s like you don’t even want to graduate.”

“Maybe I don’t?” She tilts her head, shit-eating grin on her face. That was a deliberate attempt at pissing her off - Bianca has gotten pretty good in recent years at telling those apart from Adore pissing her off without meaning to, and she tries not to let it. Even if her blood is already quietly simmering. 

“Oh, you absolutely do if you wanna keep living in this house-”

“Leave her alone, Bea.” Ben laughs, sitting opposite from Adore, as he looks up from the article he’s reading on his tablet. 

He only got home from work about an hour ago - most of Bianca’s days off fall on weekdays, so she’s been at home all day, doing pretty much nothing of note until Adore got home from school. They’d had a minor screaming match about the state of Adore’s room - Bianca had threatened to withhold phone privileges and her car keys until Adore relented, threw out the fifteen water bottles she’d been accumulating on her nightstand, and hid the rest of her mess in the closet. Fuck it, good enough. 

They only seemed to either argue or ignore each other when Ben wasn’t home which was…just fucking great. It made Bianca feel totally awesome about herself. But Ben is back, order has been restored, and Bianca is cleaning up after dinner like nothing had happened. 

“Whose side are you on?” Bianca replies, faux-shocked. “Fucking traitor.” 

“Clearly mine, because I’m his favorite,” Adore smirks. You don’t know the fucking half of it, Dorey. 

Bianca isn’t saying anything, but the way that Adore is looking at her tells her that she probably still looks mad. This recurring point of tension is getting several million miles up Bianca’s ass. 

Adore’s latest thing, with her last months of high school on horizon, has been threatening not to go to college. She’d gotten her applications in by some fucking miracle, and by even further fucking miracle had been accepted for a songwriting major at some prestigious music school that Bianca couldn’t remember the name of - and was now adamant that she wasn’t going, in favour of driving around the country with the ‘band’ that her and her dumbass friends had formed last summer, playing gigs in basements and doing god-knows what else. 

Bianca feels like she knows on some level that this is all talk; of course Adore is gonna graduate and go, she’s not stupid. But she’s been in the midst of a prolonged rebellious phase since she was about thirteen. Every time they fight about it, Bianca wants to shake Adore and tell her you’re gonna fucking do this because I couldn’t, stop being fucking ungrateful - but her failed aspirations aren’t Adore’s fault. 

It just annoys her. Adore, in every possible way, has had an easier life than Bianca ever did and she struggles not to hate her for it. Her future is available to her on a silver goddamn platter, she’s looking for reasons to not take it, and for fucking what? Being cool? 

Ben, against what had seemed like all odds when they were in their twenties, had really fallen upwards from the joint error that had changed the trajectory of both of their lives. That first ‘pay the bills’ office job doing whatever-the-fuck had unlocked Ben’s secret talent for playing corporate ball, and a little less than eighteen years later he was the CFO of an LGBT charity, and making what Bianca deemed to be a fucking stupid amount of money. Enough to afford their too-nice house in a too-nice neighborhood in West LA, and Adore’s too-nice performing arts high school. 

Bianca had climbed about as far up the ladder as she’d been able to, but given that she was a college dropout with no real experience in anything else, the depressing non-failure of retail store management was about the best she could manage. It wore her down; the feeling of uselessness and guilt as she inhabited this existence that felt a million miles above her means. 

“This is insane - have you guys read about this new Cookie Heaven thing they’re trialing?” Ben looks up again, breaking the frosty silence - Bianca disinterestedly flicking through her phone, Adore disinterestedly pretending to finish her homework. “Guys?” 

Ben had been bizarrely fixated on this emergent technology for the last year or so - some shit about consciousness transfers and virtual afterlifes that Bianca didn’t understand and didn’t care to. It made her skin crawl, not that she had any idea why. Truly, the rate at which Cookies as a principle had been developed, outlawed, un-outlawed, given rights, made illegal again but only in certain situations - it felt like it dominated the news, and with every possible turn it got weirder. Their trajectory had felt like trying to find a point for something that had been invented pointlessly. Criminal justice, entertainment, smart home tech, medical advances, god knows what else - Bianca just thought they were a bit macabre. 

“Nope, don’t want to. It’s creepy.” Bianca shudders, kicking off the process of shutting him up about it before he talks about it too much and gets under her skin. “Is this like that chick who died in that AR art thing at Burning Man and got stuck in the Cloud? Because that freaked me the fuck out.”

“Why? I think it’s really nice. According to this, they’ve been successful with people who’ve been uploaded prior to death, so now they’re looking at trialing it for long-term coma patients, end-of-life care, people with Alzheimer’s - it could be really promising.”

“Absolutely not - when I die, let me rest in fucking peace.” Bianca pulls a face.  “Don't throw some gross little computer clone of me into a weird simulation and force me to live forever - it’s weird. I don’t like it." 

“Bianca, Cookies aren’t just computers-” 

“It’s messed up.”

Adore shuffles uncomfortably in her seat, pushing her earbuds in further. Bianca half-watches her, pursing her lips. 

“I think it’s sweet. It says in the article that if this trial thing works, then they’re going to look at options for letting family members visit,” Ben says a little wistfully. 

“Ah.” It takes a moment of thought, but Bianca feels like an asshole. 

“Look, I just think that if something like that had been around thirty years ago, it would have been…” he stops, not sure how to finish his sentence. Ben’s mom died when he was ten, and that tragedy has been underpinning Adore’s entire adolescence; his constant anxiety over something happening to himself or Bianca, not wanting his daughter to have to suffer through the same lifelong, unshifting grief. “Think about Adore-”

“Yeah - maybe think about me enough to not have this conversation right in fucking front of me?” Adore bolts to her feet, her hands clasped at her sides. Her eyes look moist. Bianca half-opens her mouth, trying to say something, but no words make their way out. “This is freaking me out - stop it!”

She scrubs at her eyes furiously with a balled fist, storming out of the room and letting the door swing shut behind her with a thud. 

“Dorey-” Ben calls out weakly after her. 

“What the fuck was that?” Bianca walks around the table, slumping down into the seat Adore had just been occupying. She hears Adore’s bedroom door slam from upstairs. 

“I dunno - I guess that got a little heavy? I mean, who wants to sit around and listen to their parents talking about what’s gonna happen when they die?” Ben looks uncomfortable, chewing at his bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”  

“Yeah,” Bianca replies distantly, not really listening. 

“I do mean it, though.” Ben says, leaning across the table - looking past Bianca’s folded arms and frosty expression. “If I’d had some way to still talk to my mom - even if it wasn’t fully real, even if it was just a simulation - I’d have wanted that. And I don’t think it’s fair that we should stop Adore from having that chance.”

“What, so I have to commit to being alive forever even when I don’t want to, for her benefit? I don’t think she even likes me anymore, Ben - she wouldn’t care.” Bianca sounds more morose than she wants to, but it’s true. She loves Adore, but god knows the kid is going out of her way to make that difficult. 

“Believe me, she would.” Ben looks at her a little too seriously. “I’m just saying I think we should look into it.” 

“Look into it all you want - I’m not doing it.” 

“Seriously, Bea-” Ben is looking at her with puppy eyes and it’s making her feel nauseous. “For Adore?”

There’s loud music blasting upstairs, and Bianca is wondering if it’s Adore picking up an old habit of putting her speakers on when she’s crying, so that nobody can hear her. She wants to go and check on her, but she’s glaringly aware that any interference from her is perceived as a pending attack by Adore right now - how powerless she feels hurts. Bianca looks at the floor, picking at her cuticles. 

 “Fine.”

*****

August 4th, 2042

“So, I’m sure this isn’t gonna come as a shock to you, but your dad and I got a divorce.” 

Adore’s eyes practically pop out of her head as she spits her coffee out. More of it gets on Bianca’s face than she would have liked. 

“What?” 

“I don’t think I left much room for interpretation there, Dorey,” Bianca grimaces, wiping secondhand iced latte off of her cheek with a napkin. 

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Why the fuck did you get a divorce?” Adore looks sullen. Almost angry, actually. 

Regardless of how different they’d seemed to become as she’d grown up, every so often Bianca was hit with a very, very strong reminder that Adore was her mother’s daughter. Calm and rational, per fucking usual. 

She’d debated back and forth with Ben about who should tell her. They’d been dancing around the subject since June, when Adore had first come home for summer; practically rehearsing the conversation. Eventually they’d settled on Bianca - Ben had admitted himself that Bianca’s at times abrasive directness was the way forward. Adore didn’t hold well with people pussyfooting around her, and Ben was always a little too delicate with her feelings. He’d been the ideal Good Cop to Bianca’s bad one when Adore was little - but she was nineteen now, had moved out almost a year ago, and was as close to a real adult as she was realistically ever gonna be. She needed someone to be straight with her. And, well, out of the two of them, Bianca was probably the closest thing to straight. Even after nearly twenty years of marriage. 

The split itself had been more than amicable, since years of planning had gone into it. The only slight point of contention had been, in the process of unpicking and rewriting both of their advanced directives, Ben had been pretty insistent on her keeping the part about San June-whatever-the-fuck - that weird Cookie Heaven thing which she’d hoped would just be a passing fad when Ben brought it up last spring, but had only gained more traction and more apparent success. 

She’d tried to reason with him about Adore being a grown-up now, and how she’d made it through the last year without shuffling off this mortal coil, and so their respective deaths were probably a far-future issue that they shouldn’t be so worried about right now, but it hadn’t flown. Bianca had spent long enough in lawyers’ offices debating bullshit to have any useful argument left in her. She’d thought the divorce process would be less of a nightmare since it was agreed upon by both parties prior to the fucking wedding, but apparently she’d thought wrong.

“Because we…” Bianca sighs, facepalming. Adore has tears in her eyes. Shit, she really hadn’t been expecting this. “Because he’s gay, Adore.” 

Adore’s eyes pop again. Bianca clamps a hand over her mouth before she gets a chance to cover her in overpriced coffee again. 

“Daddy’s gay?” Adore blurts out as soon as she manages to swallow. 

“Duh?” That just tumbles out of Bianca’s mouth without any real thought. “Are you really telling me that you never suspected anything?” 

“No? I thought he was just like…I dunno, really into theater. Did you just find out? Holy shit, are you okay?” Adore reaches for Bianca’s hand a little frantically. Bianca laughs, shaking her head. 

“Nope - I’ve always known. Dorey, I…” she sighs again, realizing how ridiculous this sounds. “Listen, when a gay man and a bisexual live together, and they get really, really drunk this one time…” 

“Ohmigod, you’re bi?” 

How unobservant is this fucking kid? 

“Yeah - surprise. Now you know why we were so fucking chill about it when you cut all your hair off and started begging for a pair of Doc Martens when you were twelve,” Bianca says, chuckling. 

A confused look washes over Adore’s face. “But I…you always seemed so in love.”

“We decided we were gonna get married and pretend to be normal so that we didn’t fuck you up,” Bianca shrugs. “Which clearly worked super well.” 

Adore cracks a smile. It feels good to see her smile. 

Since Adore moved out for college - miracle of fucking miracles - the rift between them that her teenage years had created seemed to fill itself in. Bianca felt closer to her; felt the warmth of her love without hesitation or denial for the first time in years. She was like a different person. Happy - blossoming into herself. She’d started posting her music on social media, and was getting enough buzz to land gigs here and there. And she hadn’t just stopped pushing Bianca away, but had started actively reaching out for her. She called her at least once every couple of days because she missed her; messaged her constantly. Just frivolous little updates about her days, or pictures of dogs that she’d seen - silly little shit. But it felt good. 

She’d worried that it wouldn’t last. But Adore had come home for summer, and as it trailed to an end, there’d been no second coming of their years-long bitch-feud. Everything had been fucking glorious. 

“Boo, you’re mean,” Adore says playfully. 

“For the record, we were good at faking being in love because we both love you,” Bianca says, reaching out to take Adore’s hand. She’s bitten off two of her acrylics again - Bianca is a little suspicious about which two exactly, and briefly debates calling her out for it. Whatever - she’s an adult, she can do what she wants. But Bianca is taking her to get a manicure once they get done oversharing in the middle of this cafe, because it looks like shit. “That’s not gonna change. But you’re probably gonna end up with stepparents.” 

Adore looks down. She’s always done this cute little smirky thing when she’s embarrassed - eyes fixed to the floor, quietly smiling to herself. Bianca loves it. 

“Are you dating anyone right now?” 

Bianca rolls her eyes. 

“We’re not dating-dating. But yeah - her name is Katya, I met her online.”

“Is she hot?”

“None of your business - she’s too old for you anyway,” Bianca shoots Adore a warning look. “Your dad was on a date last night, too - some guy called Darius, apparently it went really well. But I’m gonna look into getting his room soundproofed.” 

“Ewwww,” Adore clamps her hands over her ears, laughing. “You’re being gross. Stop being gross.” 

“Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answer to,” Bianca grins. “Are you good now? Or do you feel like spitting coffee all over me again? I really enjoyed it that first time.” 

“Honestly? I always wondered why none of my friends’ parents had their own bedrooms,” Adore thinks out loud. Bianca shakes her head, chuckling. 

“I love you so much, you fucking moron.”

Pride Challenge Points: 10,312

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite2023 - Shed

FFXIVwrite2023 - Prompt #8, Entry #4

Fal's consciousness returned to him with a metallic "sping" as the aetheryte winked him back into existence. He'd enjoyed the split second trip through the aetherial sea, and he now deeply resented the fact that he had to be back in the company of his overtaxed brain and exhausted body.

But at least he was home, and it appeared to be a quiet night. Pushing open the door to his cottage, he was met with a wall of dense, hot air - the consequence of having a well-lit home in Thanalan and leaving it closed up all day. And today it had the added stink of the leather he'd been tanning the day before. It was like stepping into Ifrit's armpit.

With a sigh somewhere between annoyance and despair, he threw his "grimoire," hat and outer robe inside. Not waiting to see where or how they'd landed, he about-faced and slammed the door behind him. And, on tired legs that felt like pudding, started to walk.

Past his neighbor's wisteria tree, he reached up and undid the tie in his hair and shook it loose, letting it fall free over his shoulders… which didn't make much difference since most of it had already escaped the bounds of his ponytail and was sticking up in ten different directions amidst the humidity of the night.

As he entered the tunnel that lead to the Brimming Heart subdistrict, he peeled his shirt off over his head, briefly re-experiencing the various unpleasant smells and textures of a day of adventuring as they slid up and past his face and through the air to land on the ground behind him.

Next, he deftly undid his belt and stepped out of his longkilt, which was muddy and bloodied enough to nearly stand up under its own power. His boots came next, although the effort of unlacing them while he was still walking nearly sent him face-first into the cobblestones. Undaunted, he strove ever forward, latching onto the sound of a low, soothing roar that definitely wasn't the waters of the Rhotano, but was close enough.

Had he brought someone along for this trip, he might have turned his undressing into some kind of erotic striptease, but it had been such a long day and he was such a gods-damned mess that he felt more like a matted sheep shedding layer after layer of hot, smelly wool. And so, off came the smallclothes with very little ceremony or pretense.

Now fully in the altogether, he stepped out of the tunnel, into the heart of the Goblet. Not a single other soul was around, although he honestly wouldn't have even cared if there was. He nearly fell down for the second time as he failed to catch sight of an opulent sandstone planter before tripping over it, but he couldn't even be bothered to swear, because his mind was already where it wanted to be. His body just needed to catch up.

In weary silence, he raised his head like a supplicant to look adoringly at the sky. Though the yellow of the streetlights muddied the view a bit, the stars were still quite magnificent, the two sources of light harmonizing serenely on the shifting pool that lay at his feet. He about-faced towards the tunnel and spread his arms wide as he gazed to the heavens, leaning further and further back to take in more and more of the stars, closing his eyes serenely.

As he hit the water, the only thing louder than the splash was his sigh of relief.

((This dumb, self-indulgent idea hit me while standing in a long line at the grocery store after standing in a long line at a drugstore after a long day at work and taking a long test about veterinary pharmacy labels that I probably failed… all I wanted to be at that time was naked and underwater, so I write this…. Actually I went to bed and then wrote it the next morning because I was too tired.))

[loveisonaroll]

Things That Are Worth It: Baby No. 2

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

If you haven’t read Things That Are Worth It, you can read it here. 

A/N: I really loved the story line, so this is part of the TTAWI universe. I will be posting blurbs (that will probably be more like short fics) about the family of 5 and how Y/N and Jake handle being parents together. This is also a slight deviation of what I mentioned in TTAWI, but I liked this more. 

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: pregnancy and a little anxiety, but mostly fluff. Also unedited lol

---

You looked down at the tests scattered across your bathroom counter. Positive. Plus sign. Pregnant. You rubbed your face harshly as you slouched against the door. You could hear Jake strumming his guitar as he softly sang to Vivy, who had only been in your lives for all of two months. You usually loved listening to and watching Jake as he serenaded your daughter, but now it was slowly adding to the pressure building in your head. 

How could this have happened? As you slid down the bathroom door to sit with your knees to your chest, you wracked your brain for the last time you and Jake had not used protection. You weren’t on birth control, as you just had never found one that worked well with your body, so the two of you had always been careful to use condoms or plan b when you didn’t have a condom available. 

However, a memory crept into your mind, and you pounded your palm against your forehead. It had been about a month before, when Josh and his girlfriend Sara had spent a Friday night in your guest room, and they had insisted you and Jake go back to bed the next morning while they watched after Vivy. The two of you had gotten back to your shared bed excited to get a couple extra hours of sleep while your guests took care of your little one. The bedroom was prime for a good nap, too. The shades had been lowered, and the black-out curtains created an almost pitch-black room. The bed sheets had been washed the night before, and your pillows still smelled of the lavender room spray you had doused them in while making the bed. The sound machine was playing soft and steady rainfall, which usually drifted all three of you quickly to sleep. Yet, five minutes passed and you still hadn’t been able to turn off your brain, extreme exhaustion counter-acting your goal.

“Baby? You awake?” Jake had asked softly, turning his head towards you to catch any movement.

“Yeah,” you had replied, sighing. “Unfortunately. I guess my body is too wound up.”

“I can think of something we can do to help us relax,” he whispered again, and you remember hearing the smirk in his voice as he grabbed your hands to hold above your head and crawled over you. “But you have to be a good girl and stay quiet for me.”

The two of you had had slow and passionate sex, your orgasms gently lulling you to sleep. You remember Jake telling you to remind him to grab plan b at the drugstore later that afternoon, but the two of you had soon woken from your naps and jumped back into parenting a newborn. You don’t remember ever taking a plan b that day or discussing it further, so you knew that had to have been the night you had become pregnant. 

As you throw your head back against the bathroom door, you realize Jake had stopped playing, and another voice could be heard down the hall.

“Where’s Y/N?” you could hear who sounded like Sam ask Jake.

“I’m not sure. I think she’s in our bedroom…” Jake responded, his sentence trailing off into a whisper.

“Well, I’ll sit here with miss Vivy, if you’d like,” Sam said, and you knew Jake was probably headed to find you. 

Before you could scramble to stand up and hide the tests, a knock came from the other side of the door.

“Lovey? Are you okay in there?” 

“I-I’m okay,” you croaked out as you stood from your spot in front of the door. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until you spoke. 

Jake was silent for a moment, trying to register what was going on from your voice alone. “Will you open the door for me, baby girl? Just wanna see your face.”

Your face scrunched up for a moment, thinking about your sweet husband. He has always been your rock, even from across oceans, and he always eased you into talking about your troubles when he knew something was up. He is always the strong tree of refuge in a flood, the one familiar face in a crowd of strangers, and most importantly, the one person who could ground you in reality. 

Although this news was scary and untimely, you knew Jake was the one person to calm your fears. So you grabbed the tests in one hand and wiped your face with your shoulder as you reached for the doorknob with the other. You nervously placed your hand behind your back when the door swung open to reveal your husband, a lopsided smile taking over your features.

“Hey baby, whatcha doin in here?” Jake stepped into the bathroom, eyebrows furrowed as he placed his hands atop your shoulders and rubbed them up and down your arms.

“I, um, well—” you stuttered, focusing on Jake’s pendant necklace handing on his bare chest visible between his open button-down. Your mind drifted in that moment, wondering if Jake had been doing skin-to-skin with Vivy before he sang her to sleep. The picture made you smile softly, and you almost forgot about your immediate situation until you felt Jake’s hand drift down to your wrist held behind your back. 

“What do you have back here?” He asked gently, stopping at your wrist to rub small circles with his thumb. Jake would never forcefully rip something out of your hands, especially something you felt the need to hide, but you flinched anyways. 

“Oh,” was all you could manage to say before you slowly brought both of your hands in front of you and displayed the tests the best you could between your palms. 

Jake’s eyes flitted down from your face to the contents of your open hands, and you could see his eyes widen slightly.

“I know, babe, I don’t know what we’re going to do. I mean, this is not how we planned this, it’s not how we planned anything. And we finally got into the swing of things with Vivy, and I know it’s already been tough on the ban—” your rambling was cut off by an airy chuckle as a smile crept its way onto Jake’s face. 

Jake’s chuckle turned into a full belly laugh, and you couldn’t tell if he was truly elated or having a psychotic break until he squished your cheeks together to place a firm kiss to your lips. 

“Wha-?” you started, confused by Jake’s reaction. You knew he would have acted more positive than you to keep you from losing your shit, but you expected at least some anxiety peeking through his usually cool demeanor. This time, his excitement was evident and almost contagious, and you could hardly bite back an, albeit surprised, smile.

“You’re pregnant!” Jake spoke against your lips as he kissed you again. “I can’t believe this. Honestly, I know the timing is a little off, but I think this is a great thing.”

“You do?”

“I do. Baby, the last two months have been so hard, but I love our little girl and I love you, and I can’t wait to have another little to chase after. They will probably be best friends,” Jake gushed, and your heart was melting. 

“But Jake how are we going to handle two little babies? We haven’t even fully figured out the one we have.” You once again looked down at the pendant around Jake’s neck.

“Will we ever have it fully figured out?” He asked, ducking down to catch your downcast eyes. “Besides, we each have two arms, so I think we could handle even a couple more. And if you want to count my siblings’ arms, we have even more limbs for carrying babies.”

The two of you laughed, and you snuggled into Jake’s chest as he enveloped you in his arms and kissed your temple. Jake spent the rest of the night telling you how much he loved you, kissing your still flat tummy, and whispering sweet words to your daughter about her soon to be sibling. Although the timing was unsuspected, your heart swelled tenfold that night, and you knew if you were doing it with Jake, it would always be worth it.

[dreamertrilogys]

saying your names, richard siken / nice2knou, all time low / @pragmaticam / the loneliest sweet potato, sabrina benaim / invisible fish, joy harjo / lost in the supermarket, the clash / the glass essay, anne carson / you are jeff, richard siken / @retropopcult / hard feelings/loveless, lorde / the book of delights, ross gay / bag of bones, mitski / boot theory, richard siken / @th3-n30n-d3m0n​ / a supermarket in california, allen ginsberg / source unknown / cynicism at a supermarket, hedonic nihilist / punisher, phoebe bridgers / @suffer-rosa​ / @inthefields / grey tickles, black pressure, john grant / @elijahreblogs​ / @itsmieille / shopping for yesterday, adrian wait / @alexsiple / perfection, and this your living kiss / love in the supermarket, bardo / my north market, nate pentz / supermarket blues, bobby gross / loneliness in supermarkets, mateuš conrad / the raven cycle, maggie stiefvater

[ID: image 1: "I'm saying your name in the grocery store"

image 2: "We always say that we'll keep in touch / Nobody does, but it don't matter much / One last call at the corner store"

image 3: a comic panel of a woman dricing her car, saying "I'VE GOT A TANK FULL OF GAS AND A HEAD FULL OF DREAMS. TIME TO GO TO THE GROCERY STORE FOR NO REASON."

image 4: "So, I'm at the grocery store because I feel sad."

image 5: "Invisible fish swim this ghost ocean now described by waves of sand, by water-worn rock. Soon the fish will learn to walk. Then humans will come ashore and paint dreams on the dying stone. Then later, much later, the ocean floor will be punctuated by Chevy trucks, carrying the dreamers’ decendants, who are going to the store."

image 6: "I'm all lost in the supermarket / I can no longer shop happily / I came in here for that special offer / A guaranteed personality"

image 7: "The shadowless light makes him look immortal,"

image 8: "After work you go to the grocery store to get some milk and a carton of / cigarettes. Where did you get those bruises? You don’t remember. / Work was boring. You find a jar of bruise cream and a can of stewed / tomatoes. Maybe a salad? Spinach, walnuts, blue cheese, apples, and / you can’t decide between the Extra Large or Jumbo black olives. Which / is bigger anyway? Extra Large has a blue label, Jumbo has a purple / label. Both cans cost $1.29. While you’re deciding, the afternoon light / is streaming through the windows behind the bank of checkout coun- / ters. Take the light inside you like a blessing, like a knee in the chest, / holding onto it and not letting it go. Now let it go."

image 9: an image of a retro grocery store

image 10: "But I still remember everything / How we'd drift buying groceries, how you'd dance for me"

image 11: "I dreamed a few years back that I was in a supermarket checking out when I had the stark and luminous and devastating realization -in that clear way, not that oh yeah way- that my life would end. I wept in line watching people go by their carts, watching the cashier move items over the scanner, feeling such an absolute love for this life. And the mundane fact of buying groceries with other people whom I do not know, like all the banalities, would be no more so soon, or now. Good as now."

image 12: "Fluorescent store lights, you shine through the night / Illuminate my pores, and you tear me apart / Mercy on me, would you please spare me tonight / I'm tired of this searching, would you let me let go"

image 13: "A man walks into a convenience store, still you, saying: / I only wanted something simple, something generic..."

image 14: a picture of the door to a convenience store, its edited and the entire photo is bright neon

image 15: "In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! / What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!—and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?"

image 16: a picture of a empty grocery store, fluorescent lights reflecting on the tile floor

image 17: "I propose that we are all products in an / increasingly capitalistic market // No one wants you in the end"

image 18: "The drugstores are open all night / The only real reason I moved to the east side / I love a good place to hide in plain sight"

image 19: "Do sane people haunt the aisles of grocery stores in search of some sensibility?"

image 20: "Time does not exist inside of a supermarket. People walk in with lists and cravings and they're out automatic"

image 21: a picture of a somewhat rundown grocery store

image 22: "I often stand and stare / At nothing in the grocery store / Because I do not know / What to buy to eat any more"

image 23: "You enter the same grocery store you’ve been going to for years. The layout is entirely different. You don’t recognize any of the employees. The only thing linking it to the previous times you’ve been here is the faded tile floor."

image 24: a drawing of a supermarket, the view is from above, and you can see the aisles

image 25: "Busy crowds, lonly hearts, broken dreams / Shopping for yesterday. / Visiting the shared moments, / In all the familiar places / When shopping for yesterday."

image 26: a drawing of an aisle in a grocery store

image 27: "Those nights in that in-between time / In in-between spaces, / Truck stops and 24-hour diners / From bygone eras and unforgiving lights all / Left up bright,"

image 28: "I could spend my life in the supermarket, going around the aisles / Walking among the plentiful and the abundant / Looking for things to help plug the holes inside, / Looking for something, hungry for something, I don't know what / But something that probably can't be found on shelves / Something that was maybe lost a long time ago."

image 29: a picture of a grocery store at night, taken from outside

image 30: "I'm a lost child in the supermarket / Looking for my mom / I have no idea where to look"

image 31: "at the local (supermarket) - / and i can't feel the bitter loneliness / while walking down an aisle / of ready-meals... // to be honest, walking in a graveyard / gives me a more cheerful aura / than walking in the supermarket..."

image 32: "but tonight, under the fluorescent lights of Dollar City," /END ID]

[wafflesetc]

one day at a time (9x20 missing moment)

A/N: So, this was just an idea I had because of a lot of different theories I saw roaming around on the corners of the web. I meant to finish this before 9x21 aired, but that obviously didn't happen. Needless to say, I was still really excited about this so I wanted to post it anyways. 

So preemptively let's call this a 9x20 missing moment. (If you care enough where title inspo comes from it came from Dan + Shay's song, From the Ground Up.) 

I also am dying to have an episode centric more on Hailey’s family and background. Give me som Mama Upton content. Let’s meet her brothers. So there’s a small part that I wove into this story because of my own little wishlist I have. Anyways, nobody reads these author’s notes so I hope you enjoy. XX

AO3

She’d been off recently. 

Stress, diet, a non-existent yet consistent work routine causing little to no sleep, exercising too much when she wasn’t getting enough sleep- all things that could be contributing to her feeling of being off. 

Off wasn’t really the right word, though.

Irregular.

The weight of the word hit her like a gut punch to the stomach. 

She realized it the minute she started watching the interview video of the three year old. It was five days past when she was supposed to start. She’d spotted the month before, but five days late… That was something to be concerned about.

It was one of the things that happened because of the job- an irregular cycle. Especially with Intelligence. Every day was non-routine, the unpredictability had become one of the constants in her life, and an odd sense of safety she loved and adored. She was good at the job, she had a good team… And somewhere in the middle of all of this she had found herself a life outside of the job.

It wasn’t something she had ever pictured for herself. A husband, a personal life. Sure, they had been aspirations, maybe even things she considered dreams, but dreams never really ever came true for Hailey Upton.

That was until she met Jay Halstead. 

And somehow her dreams had become her reality, and reality had become much more than her wildest dreams. 

Yet she found herself standing in the drugstore aisle staring at the tests. Was this a part of her plan- their plan? Maybe in the distant future, but not like this. This wasn’t the time. 

Time though? It’s a funny thing, one she thought she understood, but now, hell if she does. But five days late after a month with just some light spotting.. She hadn't been that careless, had she? But she had. The river incident had shifted something inside of her that day, really rattled her core. They’d celebrated her that night- ten years somehow gone in the blink of an eye. 

It was just a day here, a day there, and they were smart- or tried to be at least. But nothing is foolproof, nothing is guaranteed. They know that every moment they walk through a door with their kevlar vests strapped to their chests. No tomorrows are promised, not in their line of work. 

She reaches on the shelf grabbing the box that reads Early Response on the front. She fiddles with the boxes in her hand, the plastic wrap making crackling sounds in her ears. Here she is in the middle of a Walgreens in the middle of her workday buying pregnancy tests because she’s scared of how her husband might react to this kind of news. And she had to lie to her partner because she couldn’t tell him she didn’t feel well or was going to go pick something up at the pharmacy because he’d offer to drive her or go get it for her because that’s just the kind of guy he was- that’s the kind of guy she married. 

“Why didn’t you say something to me, Hailey?” A familiar voice comes from behind her. 

It startles her for a moment but then he reaches for the boxes in her hands and in her eye line. There’s no running from this now. 

“I didn’t….” She stops herself and takes a breath, “I didn’t really think about it until an hour ago, after Kim showed us the interview with the kid. Things had been so crazy recently, all the possible signs didn’t really seem like signs and I realized watching the video I was a few days late… And here I am.” 

“I had Platt ping your car, you just left without telling me where you were going and then didn’t answer whenI called you.” 

She shakes her head because, yes that was her next question- how did he find her, not that it would have been that hard, she most likely would have done the same thing if the roles had been reversed. 

“It may not even be positive, Jay.” She shrugs her shoulders and tilts her head. Because who knows, it could just be the stress of the job, too. (Or it could be positive.)

“This isn’t the kind of thing I want you to go through alone,” He reaches for her hand and twists her wedding band between his fingers, “IF it is positive it did take the two of us, to uh” He shrugs his shoulder and runs his fingers through his hair making her smile just a little. He’s really just a big goofball sometimes and this is one of those moments, because she was a willing participant in the activities that could have put them into this situation. “And I know that it would ultimately affect your career much more than mine, but if you want to be alone for this, I can understand.”

Jay offers her the test back with two twenty dollar bills. She ignores him, grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers, while having a near death grip on his hold.

“Come on.” She says, leading them to the checkout counter. 

The cashier is an older lady who is perky, and smiling at them wordlessly. It’s obvious she knows what they are buying, that they are married, and that she just wants to say something.

“That’ll be $21.97, cash or card?” Mary, the cashier says. Jay nods, pulls out his card, and inserts it into the machine. 

“Damn these tests are expensive.”  

“Just wait until the kid gets here, bud- they’re even more expensive. The diapers, wipes, and then they start walking and talking and eating… Will this be your first?” Mary looks at Hailey and then at Jay with a smile from ear to ear on her face and hands Hailey the plastic bag. 

In a state of shell shock, Jay doesn’t answer and defaults to blankly staring at Hailey. She doesn’t quite know how to answer the worker either, but she smiles and softly says, “This wasn’t quite our plan, yet, but those are how these things tend to go, huh?” 

“They never do, sweetie… Good luck to you two.” 

The receipt prints from the machine and Mary hands it to Hailey, while Jay stashes his card back into his wallet. As Hailey shoves the receipt in her pocket. 

They drive back to the district and she parks her car. She’s not carrying these boxes inside because there are only two women in the unit and she doesn’t want any of them to make any assumptions. She grabs two of the tests, shoving them in her pocket, seeing her husband waiting by the door. 

She gets out of her jeep, locks the door, and smiles at him while she walks up. “I am going to take one now, but I wasn’t about to carry the box upstairs with me.” 

“It’d either be you or Kim.” He finishes for her, because naturally they are on the same wavelength. 

“Exactly, and after all they’ve been through recently… I just figured we could keep this to ourselves for a bit, either way.” 

“Are we doing this right now?” He asks with a raise of his brow.

She purses her lips and opens the door, giving him the silent answer. 

“The two love birds are back,” Platt says from her desk. “I see you found her Jay, what was she doing, staring at the candy aisle?” 

“Something like that.” Jay answers, because somehow Trudy Platt is all knowing and probably has already deduced what might be happening between them.  

The walk up the stairs in palpable tension, she can feel it radiating from him and she knows he can feel it coming off of her. So many questions, so many unknowns. Sure, they want this- sometime in the future. What happens if the future is now? 

The locker room is empty, thankfully, so Jay closes the door and asks her the question she’s dreading, “Do you want to be alone for this?” 

She hears the sound of the lock latching behind her and lets out a breath. “No, I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I’ll let you be alone for the retrieval part, you don’t need me for that.” Jay half laughs as he sits on one of the benches watching her walk to the stalls. 

“I think you’ve done enough work over there, partner. I can take it from here.” She waves him off walking into a stall. 

Of all the things she has done in her life- of all the things they have been through together, this is the scariest one of them yet, she thinks. 

It’s a quick process, taking the stick and placing it in fluid. 

“So, we just wait, then?” Jay asks- half as a joke, half just to keep her at ease. His hand makes its way to the small of her back, rubbing circles as she leans against the counter.

“Three minutes. Three whole minutes and our life could change.” She says it out-loud, more to the universe than to either one of them because they both know how much this could- would- will change things. “What do we do if it’s positive, Jay?” 

“Hailey,” He breathes, “I don’t know. We don’t have to know right now either, I mean, we have some time to decide–” 

He stops as the words start to appear on the screen, PREGNANT.

“I think it was one too many bottles of red wine.” She almost huffs, but a small smile escapes her lips as she reads the words. 

“Are we happy about this?” Jay asks as she turns to face him. “I told you in the store, I’d love to have a discussion about this but it is ultimately your decision and if it happened once it can surely happen again –”  He’s rambling and she finds it endearing because he is cute. He’s excited, she can tell, and he’s trying to remain rational, calm, and collected until she gives him an indication on how she feels about this scenario. 

Truthfully, she admits to herself, she’s petrified. This is the last thing that she thought would happen to her- to them- right now, but somehow the universe had other plans. And while she finds herself scared, in a territory of extreme unknowns, there is a small piece of her that knows she’s not alone in this, she has Jay. 

“I wouldn’t say happy,” She admits, because honesty is power, especially in moments like this. “I’m terrified, Jay. I didn’t have the best childhood– I never— this– wasn’t–... Until you, I never really thought about even the possibility.” 

“Okay…” He’s calm, trying so hard to keep it cool. “And?” 

“And, although I’m scared, I know it’ll be okay because I have you.” She nearly whispers because it’s true, she doesn’t know how to do this- how to be a cop and how to be a mom. Kim has been figuring it out, almost losing Makayla and Adam in the process and she can’t even fathom going through that. But yet, there’s this new piece of Hailey— one half of her and half of him inside her— and she now can’t picture a world where this little being doesn’t exist. 

That’s the truth, and for right now,that’s what she will hold on to. 

She smiles at him, with small tears in her eyes, “I can’t believe we did this.” 

“Too much merlot.” Jay laughs, wiping a tear off of her face. “We can’t hide here much longer, or the brass will come knocking down the door. We can talk about this tonight?” 

“Tonight.” She agrees. And she knows she shouldn’t do this, they have rules. Rules that are meant for the workplace, but this is a moment, one she wants to remember, so she cups her husband's face and kisses him. It’s soft and sweet, but they’re in a locked room so to hell with their rules for just a few minutes. 

“Let’s go,” Jay says, ushering her towards the door.

“You go first, so we don’t look suspicious. There’s a phone call I gotta make first, OK?” Hailey says, stashing the test in her pocket and reaching for her phone. He gives her a quick kiss on the forehead, leaving the locker room and once she knows she’s alone she reaches for her phone, scrolling for a number she seldom calls. 

The phone rings, the dial tones making her more anxious than waiting for the positive to appear on the screen, when a familiar voice answers on the other end.

“Hailey, sweetie…”

That’s when the dam breaks and the tears fall down her cheeks.

“Hey, mom. I’ve got some news…” 

[emikmr]

Peach Gloss

season 6 (?) spoilers after this line

summary: Carl’s girl wears peach lipgloss when he leaves for military school.

carl x fem!reader

warnings: none that i’m aware of, but if there’s anything at all, let me know!

“You ready?” Fiona questioned her little brother for the millionth time since they left the house. She wouldn’t admit it, but it was a bittersweet thing to let him go. He was her younger brother, he gave her hell from the day he was born but, damn did she love that kid. “No, not really. But I need to do this.” He shrugged his shoulders. He turned around to look at his family and then he looked at her.

She was standing next to Fiona, holding onto her arm. His lips grew into a small smile, he loved that about her. Her love language was written in the form of touch no matter who it was. He went around to give everyone a hug and when he got to her, he reached out his palms for her to grab. Everyone silently walked away to give them privacy, and because they didn’t want to see the sickening sweet altercation between the two young lovebirds.

Her peach lipgloss coated lips tipped up into a side smile, sad to see her love go for so long, but so happy he was bettering himself. “You really leaving me?” Her soft voice whispered while she looked at him through her eyelashes. He leaned down to press the tip of his nose lightly to hers and pushed hers up until he could push his lips to hers. She let go of his rough hands to thread them through his dark brown hair, his went to her fleshy hips to push them farther into his. When they pulled away, she peeked her eyes up to him to see he had some of her lipgloss smeared on his lips. She let out a small giggle before she went to move her fingers across his lips to wipe the cheap gloss away. His hand shot up to stop it and instead he licked his lips to taste the yummy peach. He loved her glosses. She always had a different flavor. He also never failed to buy her new smuckers to add to the array of flavors whenever he went to the drugstore. She had an overflowing bag of these cheap, little girl glosses that she kept in one of Carl’s drawers in his bedroom. She had one at her house too, but she was never there anyways so she kept most of them at his, mostly her favorites. It quickly became one of his favorite little things about her. She would sometimes let him pick out what flavor she wore when they got ready for the day together. He would always choose the peach one, but she still let him choose anyways. She thought it was adorable how he acted like he was contemplating on which one to choose, even though they both knew the one he was going to pick. She made sure to buy extra peach lip gloss so she never ran out. The action of him licking his lips caused her to throw her head back in laugher and completely bend her back away from him, to which he had to hold onto the small of her back so she wouldn’t fall. Her hips dug into his, which kind of turned him on but he couldn’t be thinking about that right now.

“What? Who knows the next time I’m gonna taste your lipgloss? Did you purposely wear my favorite one tonight? Are you trying to get me to stay?” He teased her with a smile. She giggled more while he watched her with a teasing look on his face. His blue eyes seemed dark, but absolutely stunning, in the dim light of the bus station. “Wasn’t even aware you had a favorite, bubby.” She teased him right back. They were both more than aware he had a favorite. She stopped giggling but her smile was still stuck to her face. In an instant her face fell when she realized, it was gonna be a really long time until he tasted her peach gloss. “Hey, I know what you’re thinking. But I’ll be back soon, ok, peach?” He tried to find her eyes by bending down a little, but that didn’t work. So, he took his finger and pushed on her forehead to get her eyes looking back at him. Her jaw dropped as she let out more laughs. He laughed too as he brought his lips back down to hers in another searing kiss.

“You’re a dickwad.” She said into their kiss. “Asswipe.” He responded when they pulled away. “I have to go now, ok? But I promise I’ll be back.” She nodded up to him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss this very tip of his nose. “I gotta do it for you. For our future.” He mumbled to her, but it almost sounded like he was saying it to himself. “Stop with the sappy shit, dickface. You’re really gonna go soft right when you go to military school? You’re totally gonna get hazed. I bet they’re,” She didn’t get to finish because he nuged her away from him and laughed a little. “Go.” She messed a little with his backpack straps, pulling on them and then letting go to lay her palms flat across them to flatten them back down. She wouldn’t look up to him, she knew she would start crying and then he wouldn’t go. She stayed staring down at his tshirt while he kissed her forehead.

He stepped back from her, her hands falling to her sides before she wrapped them around herself. Lip came from behind her and pulled her into a side hug. They watched as Carl stepped onto the bus and turn around before the doors closed. She broke from Lips embrace and ran the few steps to him, balanced one foot on the first step of the bus while the other foot was kicked out behind her. He got her que almost as if they shared a brain and leaned down to kiss her one more time before she jumped back down onto the asphalt below them. “I’m gonna come back a man.” He said proudly while the doors hissed closed. She stood with her arms wrapped around her again as she watched the bus leave with her love inside. Only then, while she stood without Carl by her side, did she let one small tear fall down her cheek. She wiped it away as soon as it came and turned to look at the rest of the clan.

A few weeks later, he finally got his first letter from her. He read the letter with care, he felt like he could almost hear her voice softly soeaking the words into his ear. When he went to put the paper back into the evelope, he noticed another card inside. He tipped over the envelope to get it out and a small index card fell into his lap. It was blank on the side that was facing up so he flipped it around to see what she had done. On the card it had a barely there lip mark with her loopy writing next to it. It was only one word. Peach. And when he brought the card to his nose he could smell the faint scent of the peach gloss he loved so dearly.

[magniloquent-raven]

soulmate au part 3!!!!

(read part 1 and part 2 here)

it takes three weeks for anything to happen.

they see each other at school, exchange glances in class, brush past each other in the hallways, fingers grazing as their shoulders bump, incidental touches that wouldn’t draw attention but still leave billy tingling and giddy and embarrassed at himself but…

he’s still getting used to having a soulmate. a real, tangible person he can reach out and touch.

and maybe he’d get used to it faster if he could touch him more, but life keeps conspiring against them. they can’t seem to get a second alone. when it isn’t steve’s kids are crawling all over him 24/7 it’s neil breathing down billy’s neck because he ran out on one fucking class.

well, and then had to lie to neil about why, which was probably what put neil on high alert, but still.

three goddamn weeks.

and neither of them have been patient about it. steve keeps writing billy notes. in the middle of class scrawling things like you have nice eyes and i wanna spend time with you and billy can fucking feel how smug steve gets about making him blush. it’s all he can do not to make a scene in front of half their peers. sometimes he’s not sure if he’d punch steve for being an asshole or kiss him for being sweet.

or both. he can do both.

but mostly he wants time, and somewhere to just...be. with steve.

and he gets that, three weeks after their conversation in the parking lot. steve’s parents will be out of town, and his kids have some stupid game night planned. max keeps asking to go but pretending she isn’t, badly feigning disinterest, and best of all, neil and susan are planning a weekend trip to visit susan’s bedridden aunt a few hours away.

billy is determined to take full advantage of those thirty-six hours. neither of them will acknowledge it directly, but he knows max will tell neil he was home all weekend if she has to. he has no reason to be nervous about being caught, or anything else. it’ll be fine.

it’ll be fine.

he tells himself that over and over but it doesn’t stop him from checking every corner of the house in case neil’s hiding behind a door somewhere before he can even think about getting ready to leave.

he checks again after he’s showered and dressed.

thankfully max is already gone, so she’s not there to see him pacing around like a neurotic rat in a maze.

it almost worse that he isn’t just anxious, he’s excited. and it’s making him twitchy.

there’s no plan. they aren’t going on a date or anything. he’s just...going to steve’s house. steve’s empty house. he’s going to be alone with his soulmate. the list of reasons why that scares him is endless.

and he’s not sure if he’s more terrified of the possibility that steve won’t ask about the makeup thing or the possibility that he will.

knocking on the harringtons’ front door is. an experience. it shouldn’t be. it’s just a fucking door. but billy’s palms are sweating and suddenly he has no idea what he’s even going to say, and he keeps glancing over his shoulder even though he doesn’t really know what he’s looking for, and it feels like he’s been standing on the porch for a fucking eternity but—

his worries don’t exactly melt away when steve opens the door but there is a warm flutter in his chest that’s...new. and distracting.

and steve smiles at him all sunshine and chocolate, and the second the door closes behind them he grabs billy’s hand, wide-eyed, questioning, watching billy’s reaction.

his palm is just as sweaty as billy’s and it’s gross, but also kind of comforting.

“hello to you too,” billy snickers, and steve visibly relaxes, lacing their fingers together properly.

“hi,” he breathes quietly, his gaze soft, but intense, focused. “waiting sucked, okay. i’ve been wanting to do that forever.” he shakes their joined hands for emphasis.

“...that all you were waiting to do?”

steve’s grin turns sly, and his gaze drops a little. “no.”

billy wants to kiss him. he wants to be kissed. he wants steve’s mouth on him, somewhere, anywhere, right now. it’s a nice mouth. he’s spent a lot of time looking at it, and thinking about it, about the way the steam from the showers turned his lips so, so red, wet and slick and both too close and too far away, wondering what he’d taste like—

but steve turns away, taking all the air in billy’s lungs with him. it’s so jarring a shift that billy actually sways a little before he gets ahold of himself and lets steve tug him by hand and lead him upstairs.

the wallpaper in steve’s room has to be some kind of hate crime, but billy doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because there’s a beige bag sitting conspicuously on top of steve’s neatly made bed. the clear plastic top is zipped shut, dusty with age and spilled powders, but billy can still make out tubes of lipstick and eyeliner pencils through the haze.

he stops in the doorway and stares at it, thoughts at a stand-still.

steve’s still clutching his hand, tighter now, and no longer pulling him along. “i—uh. the bag was my mom’s, i think. found it crumpled up under the sink, so, like. she probably doesn’t even remember it exists. and the stuff in it is...new.”

“...new,” billy echoes faintly.

“yeah. yeah, i—i bought it. had no idea what i was looking for though, so i hope i did alright.”

billy blinks at him.

“was—was that okay? i know maybe isn’t exactly a yes, but i kinda hoped it could be, y’know? it’s—it’s totally cool if it isn’t. if you’re—if you’re not up for it. or…” he trails off awkwardly and grimaces.

billy takes a breath. “i’m up for it,” he assures steve with more confidence than he feels.

and steve absolutely beams at him. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

turns out steve not knowing what he was looking for meant he bought...everything.

as billy pokes through the mess he tries not to feel too apprehensive. or at least tries not to let it show. too much. he chews his thumbnail, picking up an eyeliner pencil with the other hand. it’s good shit, all the products are, with fancy names for colours and designer labels. it’s all leagues better than the drugstore clearance shelf crap he lifted as a kid. which doesn’t make this any less nerve-wracking.

“it’s been a while since i did this, so. don’t expect it to be, fucking, art or anything.”

steve shuffles closer from his spot at the foot of the bed and touches billy’s knee. “the eyeliner earlier this year…?” he gestures vaguely at his own face, eyebrows raised.

“friend of mine did that,” billy mutters.

and then his whole goddamn life came crashing down around him because of it.

his anxiety spikes, and he drops the pencil back into the pile, shoving the bag away. “i can’t fucking do this,” he snaps, and he’s halfway standing already when steve reaches for him, alarmed.

“billy, wait—” the hand on his elbow is soft, gentle, but he still flinches away. steve withdraws, fingers curled, lips parted, shock and hurt at war on his face. “i’m sorry. i—shit, i’m sorry—”

“don’t.” billy shakes his head, pulling away further. his lungs hurt. there isn’t enough air in this room. “just—forget it. this was a mistake.”

he’s through the door and heading down the stairs before he can think about it, before steve can respond. he wouldn’t have heard him anyways, not over the echoes of his father’s voice that follow him no matter how fast he flees.

but he stops just short of leaving. stands on the ugly little mat by the front door and stares down at it, his forehead inches away from resting against the wooden doorjamb.

he doesn’t want to leave.

he doesn’t want to go anywhere but back upstairs.

and...he kind of hates it. he has no reason to want that. he barely fucking knows steve, and he certainly doesn’t owe him anything. not a look at his authentic self or even a fucking apology. nothing.

so why does he want to give him all of that and more.

why.

it’s fucking terrifying and ridiculous and confusing and…

“billy?” steve calls out tentatively, far enough away that billy doesn’t startle. he’s making his way down the stairs.

if he’s gonna run, it’s now or never.

now…

or…

he turns around, and leans back, his shoulder thudding heavily as he hits the wall. his eyes itch, and rubbing them doesn’t help.

“billy…” steve’s right in front of him now, hovering just shy of being close, worry etched into every line of his face. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have pushed, i’m sorry—”

“not your fault,” billy mumbles, muffled against his palm. “stop apologizing, harrington.”

steve sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “i...uh.”

“you were gonna do it again weren’t you.”

“...no.”

billy snorts quietly, head falling against the cold wallpaper at his back. “fuck,” he exhales, hand dropping to his shoulder. “look, this is...threatening to be the best fucking thing that ever happened to me, and good things don’t just—it never lasts. it always blows up in my face, and you should know that before you get caught up in it too.”

there’s an awful, drawn-out pause while steve purses his lips and tilts his head and looks billy up and down, his gaze gentle despite the scrutiny.

“i want to touch you,” steve says quietly. he waits for billy’s hesitant nod before he wraps his arms around and tucks his face into the crook of billy’s neck. “i’ve been waiting for you my whole life, hargrove, you’re not scaring me off that easily.”

and...billy always wanted to believe in the romantic notions people wrote about in songs. soulmates being destined for each other. epic, unconditional love. he never had any reason to believe it was real, but he clung to it anyway. despite the part of him that was wary, afraid of putting too much stock in something that might break his heart later on.

so for steve to just outright say it like that…so matter of fact. the reality of the situation smacks him in the face a little.

he puts his hands on steve’s waist, slipping under his shirt to rest against soft bare skin. touching him feels...right. when he lets himself feel, lets himself be here, in the moment. the sweet scent of steve’s hair, the warmth of his breath, the soothing pressure of his fingertips smoothing the wrinkled fabric of billy’s shirt. it all adds up to a feelings that billy can only describe as home.

not home like the place, but home like the warmth of sunlight and sand between his toes, ocean spray on his lips. a feeling he’s always had to chase to capture, but somehow it’s...here. quiet and still, and nothing like he’s used to, but it’s here.

and his touch seems to put steve at ease as well, he practically melts into billy’s embrace, which does strange and addictive things to billy’s heart.

but he can’t just shut his fucking mouth and enjoy the moment.

“bet i could, though. scare you off. i might, some day.”

“billy,” steve sighs, and pulls back enough to look him in the eye. “trust me when i say, you’ll never even make the top ten scariest things i’ve seen.”

and he wants to scoff, or feel insulted, or push the issue, start a fight, but. there’s a hollow look in steve’s eye. it’s not the face of some sheltered rich boy who thinks he’s a big man, no, there’s truth there. billy believes him.

stopping the tide of questions is almost physically painful, but he knows there’s no going down that road today. he’s hiding enough of his own skeletons to be sure they aren’t ready for that yet.

he might just be ready for something else though.

“i wanna try again.”

steve blinks at him, confused for a beat, two, and. “oh!” his lips part around the exclamation, distracting billy for a moment. “the—the makeup? you don’t— you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” he hesitates, and then presses a brief kiss to the tip of steve’s nose, startling a smile out of him. billy grins back. “i want to.”

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.  

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a  shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.  

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.  

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.  

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."  

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.  

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.  

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound." 

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.  

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.  

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.  

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"  

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.  

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.  

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.  

“Not bad for a rookie.”  

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she?  Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.  

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.  

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?  

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head. 

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.  

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.  

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”  

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet. 

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.  

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

 You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”  

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.  

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"  

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

 Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”  

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it. 

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”  

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.  

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”  

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”  

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

[form-sweet-form]

Anime North 2022

LineCon- I mean, Anime North 2022, Day One.

HEY WHOEVER TOOK A PIC WITH ME SATURDAY IN THE VENDORS HALL TAG ME OR SOMETHING!! THANKS 😊

I mainly got there at 5:30 and stood in line until 9pm just to get my badge…

I can only put 10 images but this was like a very accurate representation of the line up. There was two mega lines as shown in this representation.

Yes, I was upset and felt like I got all in cosplay just to stand in a line. Checked the buy/sell thing that was on Friday then left since standing for over 3 hours I was super exhausted.

Anime North 2022, Day Two.

My brother came with me, he was lucky to have bought a Saturday pass online before they stopped selling Saturday tickets.

We got there at 10 am, they did fix the line issue as my brother only stood in line for an hour to get his badge. But yesterday there was at least a cool breeze, Saturday was much more humid outside.

I checked out some of the vendors, had a couple people say, “omg are you Aoba that’s so cool”, someone took a picture with me.

HEY WHOEVER TOOK A PIC WITH ME SATURDAY IN THE VENDORS HALL TAG ME OR SOMETHING!! THANKS 😊

Then went to the North Building for the Cosplay Panels.

This con was soooooooo badly organized, I walked around the building I don’t know how many times trying to guess where the entrance was. Absolutely no signage saying “enter on west side” anywhere. When I finally got there, there were signs saying, “use end doors” … and no “enter here”. Lots of people would continue to walk only to figure out there were no more doors. It was so confusing…

At least inside in the “ballroom” they had water stations, cause my face was so red from that heat walking around trying to figure out where to go. I had a fan and water, and it took me about 2 hours to cool my red face down. A “safety” volunteer was worried about me… ehehe.

The three cosplay panels I went to starting at 12:30 were all by the same panelist Lenore, who works for worbla and is a professional photographer. Her panels were amazing, very informative and she was quite funny xD (She’s elementalinsight on Instagram and Elemental Photography and Design on Facebook.)

The third panel, the Embellishment and Detailing in Cosplay panel, she had two other guests, they also did a very good job with their panel.

Overall, due to the horrible Friday lineup and lack of organization or signage, this being my first ever anime north and first time ever cosplaying… I had a very bad experience.

There was nothing really in the vendors hall I wanted, all I spent was $15 bucks on an overpriced fan so I wouldn’t die of heat stroke.

In the line on Friday lots of people WERE NOT wearing masks when not social distancing. I wore it because I am overweight and DO NOT want to get covid with you. With that surgical mask on my nose kept running. My brother said when he had to wear them he had that problem too. So my eyes and nose kill. Also pulled a muscle in my leg as those skinny jeans give you like no range of motion in your legs, I got no idea how Seii-chan did it... Oh wait, he does this for a living. lol

I had to pass out at 8pm since my eyes were killing me so badly I couldn’t stare at a screen and my eyes kept watering. I even cleaned the makeup off with cotton swabs and mineral oil but I still work up with super puffy eyes this morning.

Not going back today, as I said there’s not really anything I want in the vendors hall. It’s cool if you are into a more “recent” fandom, which I’m not… so I found absolutely no Dramatical Murder stuff, as I guessed I wouldn’t. They had lots of cool weapons for cosplay and Japanese food, candy, drinks etc. But if I really wanted any pokey, hi-chews, etc, I’d go to my local grocery store who sells it for cheaper then you.

So yeah, today is rest day and hope my puffy eyes go down, otherwise I’ll need to go to the drugstore and get some eye cream. ☹

[buckleysjareau]

this has been living rent free in my head pls go crazy with it

eddie trying to patch up buck’s wounds after he’s slightly injured on a call and buck saying he can do it himself, maybe eddie saying “well i’m willing to take care of you, i want to” at some point

unconditional, unadulterated / 1.8k  you did tell me to go crazy... 

It happens just as there’s a flashover. Buck just barely makes it out the front entrance of what used to be a two story home when the flashover happens and thanks to the adrenaline, there’s only a dull pain in his calf from landing on it rough during his escape. Even as Hen asks if he’s hurt anywhere, the ache— he wouldn’t even call it a pain— wasn’t even enough to mention. 

As the adrenaline wears off, though, he realizes that it’s a little more than just an ache. It starts to hurt a touch more even as it’s resting on top of his turnout coat placed on the floor of the truck. It sucks but it’s manageable, nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. He only has to finish out the last hour of his shift then he can go home and ice it. 

His optimism is dulled when the instant he puts pressure on it to walk he has to bite his tongue to keep from screaming at the pain that shoots up from his ankle to his knee. He swallows any more noises of discomfort as he tries not to noticeably limp to his gear rack, already knowing he’s not in the mood for Bobby to scold him for hiding an injury. 

Which he’s not. He doesn’t think there’s any reason to say anything because he wasn’t injured. He was told that he’d might have pain flare ups for the rest of his life, this wasn’t new to him. 

Except for the fact that it wasn’t a random flare up. He’d irritated an old injury by landing on it hard and there was a possibility, a small one, but still a possibility that it was injured. Finding even the thought of going to the hospital right now less than desirable is what’s keeping him from speaking up about the possibility. 

“You alright, man?” Eddie’s voice pulls him out his head and it’s only then he realizes just how rough his breathing is as he tries to toe off the other boot. 

He forces a smile that he hopes doesn’t resemble the grimace he thinks it does. “Yeah, never better. Tired though, that one took a lot out of me.” 

Luck must be on his side tonight because Eddie doesn’t push him. There’s a little bit of disbelief in his eyes but he doesn’t push it. 

Thankfully there’s no calls in the last hour of his shift and he didn’t have to move his leg until it was time to clock out. The desire to be home, in his bed, with his leg iced and elevated was almost immeasurable. He’d spent the last hour of his shift internalizing the worry that something could be hurt and if this shift alone wasn’t enough to fully drain him, the overthinking definitely helped. 

He looked around him to see if anyone was around to catch him letting his guard down enough to limp and breathed out a sigh of relief when the only two people down there were people coming in from B shift. As he gets dressed into his civvies, he takes advantage of the empty locker room to openly wince and hiss whenever he’d put pressure on his leg. 

He grits his teeth mid groan when Eddie walks in. 

Please don’t say anything please don’t say anything please don’t say anything

“Hey, do you wanna follow me back to my place? Christopher has been dying to show you his new video game.” Eddie pauses before he smirks. “Well, I think what he said was more along the lines of he’s dying to crush you at his new video game.”

He wants to say yes, more than anything, but he just didn’t have the energy to pretend his leg wasn’t on fire the rest of the night. 

Buck sighs. “Any other night I would, you know that, but I really think I just need my bed tonight.”

Something flashes in Eddie’s eyes but disappears quick enough for Buck to decipher it. “If there was something wrong, you’d tell me, right?” 

Buck tries to reason with the guilt that comes when he promises Eddie that he absolutely would tell him if there was something wrong because it wasn’t a lie. Nothing was wrong, he was just in a little bit of pain. Like he kept telling himself, it wasn’t anything he hasn’t dealt with before. 

The effort it took not to limp or cry out in pain as Eddie walked out with him was enough to drain him for the rest of the week. 

And even as he wants to just cut off his own leg at that point, he can’t stop his heart from fluttering or his cheeks from reddening when Eddie waves at him as he drives away. 

He focuses on the way Eddie makes him feel soft as he drives home instead of how bad it’s going to feel to walk up the stairs to his bed. It’s enough to get him home but by the time he’s unlocking his door, he’s out of breath from the walk from the elevator to his door. 

He’s four steps up when the pain just becomes too much and he yells out as he collapses on his stairs. 

As he squeezes his leg in hopes the pressure will help ease the pain he wishes he’d told someone he was hurt. He regrets not telling Bobby when he’d noticed it was more than an ache.

What if it’s another clot? It could very well be a blood clot, he’s been off of the blood thinners for a few months. Oh my God, Maddie is going to be so pissed. 

He vows to never hide an injury again if he lives through this. 

Then he realizes that the pain lessens just a little and he thinks maybe he can calm down because the pain that came with blood clots didn’t tend to simmer. Maybe he’s not dying and maybe the worst of the pain was over. 

He’s too focused on massaging the pain away to hear the door open or the footsteps that made their way to him. 

“I knew something wasn’t right.” 

Buck startles, head snapping up at the sound of his best friend’s voice. When did he get here?

“Eddie? Why are you here?”

The brunette shakes his head, paces twice, then kneels in front of Buck. “I knew you were acting weird after that call. I saw the way you landed on your leg.”

“I’m,” a painful jolt that shoots up his leg cuts him off. “I’m fine, Eds.” 

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, you look real fine.” 

“Not fake fine?” He can’t help himself from replying, grinning at the exasperated look on Eddie’s face.

He rolls his eyes before he stands and grabs onto Buck’s elbow. “C’mon, up you go!” 

“No, no, Eddie… I can’t walk on it. Not like this.” 

“You don’t have to. You’re gonna lean on me, okay? I won’t let it touch the floor.” He holds out his pinkie and Buck can’t stop the blush rushing to his cheeks at the treatment. He braces himself as he uses his upper body strength and Eddie as leverage to stand. Eddie threw his arm over his shoulder and gripped his side to keep him upright. 

“Good?” 

“Good.”

The journey to get from the stairs to his couch is a bit rocky at first but Eddie keeps his promise to not let it touch the floor. 

“Now, do you have any pain medication you still take in case of flare ups?” 

“Uh, no, not anymore. I just use Tiger Balm usually but we’re shit out of luck there. I ran out the last time this happened.” 

Eddie’s expression softens, a grin adorning his face as he pulls something out of his jacket pocket. “Maybe not.” 

He holds up a thing of Tiger Balm and if Buck wasn’t already in love with Eddie Diaz, that sight alone would have done it. 

Eddie picks up on Buck’s expression before he can even ask the question. “Like I said, I knew something was off after the way you landed on that call so I stopped at the drugstore before I came here.”

Don’t tear up don’t tear up don’t tear up 

Instead of handing it to Buck like he expected him to, Eddie is careful as he sits on the couch next to him and motions for him to move his leg towards him. 

Buck scoots back and carefully moves his bad leg to rest on the couch instead of his coffee table. Eddie takes special care not to hurt him more than he was already hurting, whispering apologies whenever Buck winces. By the time he’s done maneuvering his leg it’s bent at the knee and the area where he feels the most pain is closest to Eddie. 

“Does this feel any worse?” 

Buck just shakes his head. 

Between the soft look on Eddie’s face, his tender touches, and being so attentively cared for, Buck is left speechless. 

“Eddie… you don’t have to do this. I can do this myself.” Buck has to stop himself from moaning when he massages a certain spot. “You should be home with Christopher.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to, okay?” 

The way he says it is so tender and Buck’s heart flutters in his chest. 

“Eds, that’s sweet, but you really don’t have to do this.”

Buck tenses when Eddie’s hand finds his and rubs a thumb over his knuckles that completely relaxes him. 

“Buck, I’m willing to take care of you. This isn’t a hardship for me, okay? I want to do this, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. You always take care of me and it’s about time I return the favor so… let me help you?” 

No amount of yelling at himself not to tear up stops the tears from blurring his vision. He’s so used to taking care of himself, he’s so used to dealing with the all encompassing pain alone and he never let himself feel the want of someone to care for him so he didn’t have to. Not until now, not until Eddie. 

Eddie abruptly stops rubbing his leg and Buck whines at the loss of contact. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” 

Buck shakes his head. “No one’s ever cared for me like this before. No one but you.”

He doesn’t flinch when a hand cups his cheek using their thumb to wipe away Buck’s tears. 

“No one.” 

“Well you better get used to it, Buck, because I care about you. So much. You don’t have to suffer alone anymore, okay? Just say the word.” 

“I love you.” He blurts out. 

Even with his eyes screwed shut from embarrassment Buck can hear the sincerity in Eddie’s voice as he repeats the sentiment. 

His leg is long forgotten, the pain back to a dull ache. 

The only things Buck feels are Eddie’s lips on his and unconditional, unadulterated love.   

[cadence-talle]

looking for the golden light

Pairing: Dex Dizznee/Tam Song

Wordcount: 1,186

Summary: Tam slams into the shop wearing a large straw hat, face stormy. The door he’s shoved open hits the magazine stand and almost knocks it over. Dex winces.

His hat has flowers on it. Uh oh.

Other notes: written around a prompt by the wonderful @i-love-side-characters!! my line was “Seriously? I can’t believe you’d think that.” which i... followed. mostly. 

anyway please don’t ask me what this is, i Do Not know. it’s set in the 1950s? maybe? Dex works at a drugstore with a soda fountain :/

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @catboyruy, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @lemontarto, @sofia-not-sophie, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @keefeinnit, @hyperlollypop, @thesandsofdawn, @my-swan-song, @impostertamsong, @yeetersofthelostcities, @diamond-dreamerr, @we-have-no-bananas-today, @an-absolute-travesty, @callas-starkflower-stew, @jadenightthewriter, @keefes-hairgel, @kirisong, @fire-sapphics, @alabestrine, @brilliantblindinglights, @isapizzas, @mistythegenderqueermess, @imaramennoodle, @queersofthelostcities, @b-blurryyfacee, @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell, @silver-war, @real-smooth

“Where is he.” 

Tam slams into the shop wearing a large straw hat, face stormy. The door he’s shoved open hits the magazine stand and almost knocks it over. Dex winces. 

His hat has flowers on it. Uh oh. 

“Where. Is. Keefe.” Tam repeats. Dex raises an eyebrow, drying off another glass and putting it on the shelf. He’s lucky the drugstore’s empty right now- when Tam’s in a mood like this, it tends to scare off customers. 

“He’s not on shift today. Why, what happened?”

Tam huffs. “Remember when I came here last week? Because I needed more silver dye for my hair and I was out? And Keefe gave me that bottle?”

“You used it? Seriously? I can’t believe you’d think that thing was legit.”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting it to turn my head green!” Tam whips the hat off his head and Dex hides a laugh behind his hand. 

Sure enough, Tam’s hair is green. Neon green, in fact, a color Dex would be astonished at if he hadn’t made that particular dye himself. It almost seems to glow in the sunlight coming through the front windows. 

“Looks good,” Dex says, trying to keep the giggle out of his voice. From the glower Tam gives him, it doesn’t work. 

“Can you fix it or not?”

“Yeah, I can. Gimme a second.” Dex turns to the soda fountain and fills up a cup, sliding it over the counter to Tam. “Drink this. Maybe it’ll make you less homicidal.” 

Tam slides onto one of the stools and sighs, taking a sip. “Thanks,” he mutters, which is about as close an apology as Dex is going to get. Dex hums and rummages around in the medicine cabinet. 

“Here,” he says after a second. “This’ll turn your hair back. I think you have to bleach it first, though. It’s not as strong as the green one was.”

“Ugh.” Tam puts his head on the counter. “It’s Sunday.”

“Oh.” Sunday means the barber- the only place Tam can get his hair bleached- is closed. Which means... 

“I’m going to be like this for at least another day, aren’t I.” Tam’s tone is defeated. Dex stares at him for a moment, watches his fingers tap against the side of his stool in some sort of confusing rhythm. 

Fine. Okay. 

He crosses the shop and turns the OPEN sign on the front to CLOSED. It’s only four and he’s probably going to get chewed out for this, but it’s fine. Livvy loves him anyway. 

“I can bleach your hair here,” Dex says. “If you have an hour or two.” 

Tam lifts his head up. “You can?” 

“Yeah. Grab that towel unless you want to ruin your shirt and come into the back room.” 

“Okay,” Tam says. When Dex glances back, he could swear Tam’s smiling. 

The bleaching itself doesn’t take long. Dex brushes it on, folds Tam’s hair up into a cap, and settles down to wait. In the meantime, he switches the radio on. 

It starts up on a bright song, crackling halfway through to a news report as Dex adjusts the antenna. Tam leans over to listen. 

“Your new project?” he asks. Dex nods. 

“I’ve rewired it to pick up long-distance signals. It’s not super useful to know what the weather in Seattle is, I guess, but it’s cool.” 

“Yeah.” Tam reaches out and presses a button. They connect to another music station. “It’s cool that you can do stuff like that, though. You think you’ll go to college for mechanics or something?” 

“I want to.” Dex shrugs. “Depends, I guess. If I get a scholarship.”

“Right,” Tam says. There’s an awkward pause and Dex searches frantically for something to fill the silence. 

“What about you? Do you want to study anything?” 

Tam huffs a little laugh, glancing down at the countertop. “Probably,” he says. “Maybe. Yes.” 

Dex looks at him, at the way his shoulders hunch in just a little bit and his eyes are firmly fixed on the marble. It’s weird, to see Tam so unsure of himself. To see Tam without the tough pretense. 

“It’s still a year till graduation,” Dex says. “You have time to figure it out.” 

“Yeah.” Tam smiles a little and goes to tug at his hair, realizing halfway through that it’s still covered. Dex snorts. 

“The bleach will be set soon. I think we have more silver in the cabinets, actually, if you want to do your bangs while you’re here.” 

“Oh.” Tam nods and doesn’t say anything else. Dex tilts his head at him. 

“Do you want to dye your bangs while you’re here?”

Tam shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve had the silver bangs forever. I can’t tell if I want to keep them or- not.”

“They were, like, a rebellion thing, right?” 

“Yeah. Which was great, when I lived with my parents and it’d make my dad pissed, but now we’re staying with Wylie and Tiergan and it’s just like.” Tam waves a hand. “I don’t know.”

The song on the radio changes into something fast and upbeat. Dex lowers the volume. 

“It’s up to you,” he says. “Right? Your hair.” 

“Right.” 

“Speaking of which. The bleach is probably done by now.” Dex stifles another laugh as Tam uncovers his hair, which is now a bright blond. “You look fantastic.” 

Without saying anything, Tam reaches for his hat. He stares at Dex, face expressionless. 

“Time to hit the beach, I guess.” Dex says, and watches as Tam’s poker face breaks. 

Applying the dye takes an annoyingly long time. Dex is careful to get every strand of hair, leaving the bangs for last. When he’s almost done, he steps back and looks at Tam.

“Do it,” Tam says. “I don’t have anything to prove anymore.”

Dex smiles and finishes the bottle. 

“Thanks you,” Tam murmurs later, when his hair is tucked up again and almost done. “You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“I wanted to, though,” Dex points out. “Couldn’t just let you run around looking like a paintbrush.”

Tam laughs. He reaches out and takes Dex’s hand, examining the black blotches on his fingertips where the dye seeped through his gloves. Dex pretends his heart isn’t beating a mile a minute. 

“Still,” Tam says. “Thank you.”

-/-

“Good morning.”

The radio’s playing again when Tam walks into the shop the next day. He’s still wearing the straw hat. Dex can see his bangs under it, though, and they’re a perfect natural color. He raises an eyebrow at Tam. 

“Nice hat. Keefe’s in the back, by the way, if you still want to yell at him.”

“Thank you.” Tam slides onto his stool again. “And no, actually. I just came here so I could talk to you.” 

“Oh.” Dex blinks. “What about?”

Tam looks at him. Looks down at the ground. Looks into his eyes again.

“They’re playing a movie musical at the theater next weekend,” he says, voice level. “Would you like to go with me?”

He’s so calm and perfectly awkward that Dex cracks a smile. 

“I’d like that,” he says. The radio keeps singing. 

[spencerreidslove]

Let’s Be Bad

A/N: I was rewatching season 6 episode 13 “The Thirteenth Step” when it hit me. What if Spencer and Y/N were a crime duo being hunted by the BAU? So this idea was born. This fic is my baby and probably one of the longest things I have ever written. There is mentions of aclchol, a couple sexual themes, and normal Criminal Minds case stuff, so be aware. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 with their interrogation and stuff.

————-

“Buckle up crime fighters, because this one is bad.” Garcia said, standing up at the board. She clicked the remote to show a murder scene, four bodies in total, in a totally destroyed gas station.

“Not only did our bad guy murder four people last night in Chandler, Arizona, the police believe that he also did this.”

Gracia clicked her remote and the picture changed to another scene, six bodies this time, in a drugstore.

“A massacre just outside of Las Vegas, three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks is a long cooling off period.” Rossi said.

“M.O’s the same, though. All shot in the head and then all dragged into a line, store totally destroyed.” Prentiss said.

“With last night’s murder bringing the body count up to 10, the police need our help now. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch said, standing up from the table.

-

“Seriously? You want to go somewhere cold?” Spencer asked as you made your way into a small sandwich shop, just over the Utah border.

“Yes! Imagine waking up on Christmas Day to a white Christmas.” You said, wrapping your arms around one of Spencer’s.

“Where would we go that’s like that?” He asked, looking up at the menu, printed on a board.

“Wyoming. Up in the mountains. It’s nice there. We’ll get a cabin, live up there, together.”

“Alright,” Spencer said, smiling. “We’ll go to Wyoming. After.” He put one of his arms around your shoulders.

“After.” You agreed.

The two of you made your way to the counter, where a man, no older than 20 or so was waiting.

“What can I get you?” He asked, cleaning a spot on the counter.

He looked up and immediately his eyes latched onto yours.

Spencer said his sandwich order, but the boy didn’t seem to hear him. He was too busy staring at you, making you very uncomfortable.

“Hey.” Spencer said, slamming his hand on the counter. This seemed to knock the boy out of his trance.

“Sorry.” The boy said, still not taking his eyes off you.

“Take your eyes off my girlfriend and take our orders.” Spencer said, getting angrier.

“Sorry, she’s just like really pretty.” The boy said. Under his breath he mumbled, “I don’t see how she ended up with you.”

“That’s it.” Spencer said. He reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol. Spencer quickly shot the boy in the head, and then turned to the other two patrons in the store. He quickly shot them, and then started moving to put them in a line.

This wasn’t the plan. You had only killed 2 days ago, the police would be quick to link you to this murder. But, Spencer sometimes had a temper and when it took over, there was no going back.

You pulled out your own pistol, and shot the remaining store worker who had come out from the back room.

“I’ll line them up.” You said to Spencer. “Go clear the security cameras.”

Spencer nodded and went into the back room. You spent the next few minutes lining the bodies up in a row. When you went into the back room, you saw Spencer toying with the panel that controlled the cameras.

The cameras quickly went blank, and only showed dark screens.

“I’m so glad you’re smart enough to know how to do that.” You said.

“IQ of 187 sweetheart.” Spencer said. “C’mon, let’s get going before the cops show up.”

-

“Hotch!” Emily called putting across the parking lot. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

Hotch turned his attention from the local police officer to Emily.

“A witness was next door at the craft store and saw a man and woman leave the sandwich shop together a couple of minutes after the gunfire.” Emily said.

“We’re looking for a man and woman killing team?” Hotch asked.

Emily shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Another witness said he saw the back of the liscine plate from across the street.” Morgan said, coming up to the group. “He didn’t get any numbers but he saw it was from Nevada.”

“Makes sense of their first murder was in Vegas.” Emily said.

“Prentiss, make sure the witness who saw the man and woman gets to a sketch artist. Morgan, see if the man remembers what type of car they were driving, then see if Garcia can find anybody from Nevada who drives that model.” Hotch said, directing out tasks.

“Going from three weeks to a 2 day cooling period is a massive deescalation.” Rossi said. “Something in that shop must’ve set them off.”

“You said the security cameras were wiped?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah, you can’t even access them now.” Rossi said.

“Get then to Garcia, she’s the only person who might be able to get them back and working”.

-

“They’ve found out that we’re a man and a woman team.” You said, calling out to Spencer, who was in the bathroom. You were laying on the bed in a random hotel, watching the news, where a blonde woman was talking about your most recent murder.

“Doesn’t matter. They haven’t linked us to the others, have they?” Spencer asked, coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“They don’t have a clue.” You said.

“Good. For all they know we just shoot random people. They have no clue about the others.” He said.

You smiled as he came over beside you and started kissing your neck. “They’re never gonna get us.” He said.

You laughed a little as Spencer nicked lower on your neck.

“They’re too stupid to know what we’ve done.” You said. You could feel Spencer smile as he continued his kisses lower.

-

“What have you got Garcia?” Hotch asked to the laptop that was sitting on a table in the local police precinct.

“Not a lot, sir. Whoever wiped these cameras is some kind of genius. It’s nearly impossible to get the footage. And I am a cyber genius.” Garcia said.

“So you can’t get any footage off them?”

“Sir, I said it was nearly impossible. I will have this footage recovered wether it kills me. Au revoir!” Garcia said, signing off.

“These sketches aren’t helpful in the slightest.” Prentiss said dropping the pictures on the table. “The witness said she only saw the side profile of the woman and the man had sunglasses on and was faced away from her for most of the time.”

Hotch sighed. “We don’t have enough.”

“Ok, why these people? Why these places? They’re clearly going somewhere, but where is that?” Morgan asked.

“We have too many questions and not enough answers.” JJ said.

-

You were laying across the backseat of the car, your head in Spencer’s lap. You were drinking some kind of random alcohol Spencer had picked up straight out of the bottle.

“I can’t believe we’re here.” Spencer said, stroking your hair and looking out of the window.

“I could’ve waited.” You said.

Your car was parked down the street from your childhood home. It was your brother’s birthday and you knew he would be home. It was finally time to exact your revenge, just had Spencer did.

“Y/N, c’mon. It’ll be good for him to be gone.” Spencer said. “Plus, I get to see your childhood room in all its glory.”

You laughed a little and shoved him lightly. “You got it?” You asked.

Spencer moved as he reachedfor his bag in the front seat. He pulled out a small vile of poison. “Wouldn’t forget it.”

You slowly sat up. “We have a birthday party to attend.”

-

“Oh!” Garcia cried, looking at her computer screen.

She quickly reached over and dialed for Hotch’s phone number. “What have you got, Garcia?”

“I got the footage back! It took a lot of work and a lot of trouble but I got it! It’s already sent to your tablets.”

Hotch picked up the tablet and clicked play on the video Garcia sent him. In the video, a young man and woman were walking into a sandwich shop, talking and holding hands.

“Keep an eye on those customers that just walked in.” Garcia said.

They reached the counter and engaged in a heated discussion with a worker.

“There’s no sound on the original video, so I don’t know what they’re saying.” Garcia said.

The man took a pistol out of his waistband and shot the worker, and then turned and shop the other customers. The woman reached and grabbed a pistol and shop the other employee that had come running out.

The woman began lining the bodies up while the man disappeared into the back room. The woman joined him, and then the cameras went dark.

“Garcia, run their faces, see if anything comes up.” Hotch said.

“Already on it. If they have ever been photographed, I will find their entire life.”

Hotch let out a sigh of relief.

They finally had a break in the case.

-

“I’m nervous.” You said. You and Spencer were standing on the front porch of your childhood house, waiting to ring the bell.

“It’ll be fine. We get in, act all friendly, and then we put it into their drinks, and then we get out.” Spencer said, coming over and rubbing your back.

“Alright.” You said, ringing the doorbell.

There was a moment before somebody came to the door. “Y/N?” A woman asked on the other side of the door.

“Hi, Mom.” You said.

“I thought you said you’d never wanted to come back here again?” Your mom asked.

“Yeah, well things change.” You said. “This is Spencer, he’s coming in too.”

You and Spencer made your way past your mom into the living room where your brother and his wife were sitting.

“Y/N?” You brother asked.

“Max.” You said, addressing him. “Happy Birthday.” It took everything in your power not to slap him. He was the reason for all your suffering.

“It’s nice to see you.” He said, standing up and going to hug you. You flinched slightly, but still managed to hug him back. He squeezed you just a little too tightly.

“And who’s this?” Max asked, looking at Spencer.

“Spencer.” You said.

Max sighed and shook his head. “Never one to elaborate.” He stuck out his hand for Spencer to shake.

Spencer kindly shook it back, giving Max just the slightest smile.

“Happy Birthday.” Spencer said.

You caught Spencer’s eye as Max moved to sit back down. It would be a happy birthday, just not for Max.

-

“We are looking for a man and woman killing team, they are most likely in a relationship and are on a mission.” Hotch said, standing in front of the local PD.

“At this time we do not know what their mission is, but we believe they are on a trip to reach that point. They started in Nevada, and were last seen in Utah. They could be headed for any of the surrounding states, including back to Nevada or Arizona.” Prentiss said.

“They are rapidly devolving, as they went from having a three week cooling off period, to two days. We don’t know when they’ll strike again and have to catch them sooner rather than later.” Rossi said.

“All of their attacks have been in small stores; a drug store, a gas station, a sandwich shop. We believe they choose these places due to personal connection to one. Whoever they are going after probably owns a small store.” Morgan said.

“With that in mind, we suggest all owners of small stores who know somebody who looks like this, to keep an eye out. Do not try to approach them, they are armed and dangerous.” JJ said, from her place outside, briefing the news.

“Everybody keep an eye out and be vigilant.” Hotch said.

The crowd dispersed. Morgan’s phone began to ring.

“Talk to me Babygirl.” He said, answering.

“Well, tall dark and handsome I have some great news for you. I got a hit off the faces from the security feed.” Garcia said.

Morgan put her on speakerphone and the team gathered around to listen.

“Your man is Spencer Reid. Child prodigy from Las Vegas, he graduated high school at age 12 and his IQ tests 187. He dropped out of college at age 16 due to the fact that his mother’s schizophrenia was getting worse. Reid became her full time caregiver until around age 25, when he sighned her up for a new drug test that involved her living in a new campus.

“It seemed to be working, until a year ago when the main Doctor administered a new drug cocktail that was not FDA approved, and ended up killing Reid’s mother and several other patients.” Garcia said.

“Garcia, where’s that doctor now? They might be going to kill him if they both lost a parent.” Rossi said.

“I would say yes, but it seems like they already have. Four weeks ago the doctor, his wife, and son were found dead in their apartment from cyanide poisoning.” Garcia said.

“What about the girl?” Prentiss asked.

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is from Silverton, Colorado. She was working in a casino in Vegas until around a month ago.”

“Must be how they met.” Morgan said.

“She filed several cases against her older brother Max Y/L/N for physical abuse, but the charges were dropped everytime. From the looks of her hospital records it was bad.”

“They’ve exacted their revenge on Reid’s nemesis, now they want revenge for Y/N. Garcia what’s Max’s address?” Hotch said.

“He won’t be there. On his wife’s Instagram it says they’re going home for his birthday. I’ve sent you that address.” Garcia said.

“We need to get there, and fast.” Rossi said.

-

Talking and laughing with your family for several hours was painful, and Spencer could tell. They had watched you suffer for years at the hands of your brother, and did nothing.

“Why don’t I refill everybody’s drinks?” You asked, standing up.

“I’ll help you.” Spencer said.

After you had collected everybody’s cups, you made your way to the kitchen where you filled everybody’s cups with what they had asked for.

Spencer pulled the cyanide vial out of his pocket, and put a little bit in each cup. When you returned to the living room, you handed everybody their cups and watched as they took drinks.

It would be a few minutes before the poison started to kick in, but you couldn’t wait.

After a few moments, your mom started to choke.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Your dad asked. Then he started to choke. After just a few seconds, everybody was on the floor, choking in pain.

You and Spencer quickly came around, grabbing phones and smashing them with your heels, making sure no one could call 911.

When you reached Max, you kicked his face. “That’s what you get you son of a bitch!”

You kicked him again, and again. Before you could do some more damage, Spencer grabbed your arm.

“We better get out of here, darling. We have a lot of ground to cover.” He said. You nodded and followed him out of the house, with one last slam of the door.

-

“Dammit!” Morgan said, entering the house and seeing that all members of the Y/L/N family were dead in the living room floor.

“They’ve already been here.”

“Hotch, these bodies are still warm, they can’t be far away.” Prentiss said. “We probably just missed them.”

“Hey! We just got a hit from APB, their car was seen headed twoards a hotel a few miles from here.” The local sheriff said.

“Dave stay here and figure out what happened, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, with me.” Hotch said.

-

You and Spencer we laying on your bed in your hotel room, drinking the same alcohol from earlier.

“You were right.” You said.

“I am about most things. Be more specific.” Spencer said, taking the bottle from you.

“That it would feel good to have him gone.” You said. “I already feel twenty times freer.”

“I knew you would.” Spencer said. He placed the bottle on the bed side table and rolled ove on top of you. “I know lots of things that would make you feel good.”

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door.

“Spencer Reid! Y/N Y/L/N! This is the FBI open the door!” A male voice called from the outside.

You and Spencer both looked at each other in terror.

Could they maybe have found us? Your eyes asked.

The door was suddenly knocked open and FBI agents were flooding into your room.

Spencer and you were being pulled apart and cuffed.

“Spencer Reid, Y/N Y/L/N, you are being charged with the murders of 21 people.” A serious looking man said.

“What?” You said. “You have the wrong people!”

“No we’re pretty sure we don’t.” A brunette woman said.

“You have to have the wrong people! We haven’t done anything!” Spencer said.

You were both being hauled up by the agents behind you.

“Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” The agent behind you said, reading off your Miranda rights.

Your eyes caught Spencer’s as you were pulled to separate police cars.

Could this really be it? You thought. It looked like it just might be.

Tags! (Open)

@rexorangecouny @magnificentmgg @rachelxwayne @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @just-damn-bored @andreasworlsboring101