#thank you pbs for giving us another great moment between these two

[mrs-remarkable]

The pair were lost souls who'd rescued one another. Separation was almost unconscionable.

[mrsrookhunt]

hi, hi! could I ask for pt 2 of the twst "what to expect when your lab experiment drinks formula," I just thought it was rlly cute!☺ you can do any sort of characters, I don't mind!

What to Expect When your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula Pt. 2

Hihi! Actually, I wrote that scenario for all the characters in twst I'm writing for right now (I'm new to the fandom), so I've gone ahead and made this into a followup on how they're doing as parents, hope you don't mind! Thanks the ask!

Warnings: Mild Chap 7 spoiler (Lilia), Rook & Floyd want so many kids your house is going to look like the 100 baby sims challenge.

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Part one! Rook Hunt! Part Two (here), Part Three!

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Malleus Draconia

Malleus is running wild with the new heir. As much as he loves you, so much of his time is occupied by playing with his baby that you don't even see him around as often as you used to.

Your new baby is named Ormr, an ancient name directly meaning 'dragon'. Malleus pouted for a bit that it didn't start with 'Mal' but you assured him that it could be a great fresh start before the Draconia family ran out of names.

While you were still a bit disoriented by the strange circumstances, you were adjusting just fine to being a parent. Your little one kept you on your toes, breathing fire onto your homework when you weren't giving them enough attention and flying away with your food when Malleus taught them how to fly short distances.

Get out the broom. There's a dragon baby with a pb&j on the ceiling.

Malleus' love of your child surprised you a bit. Though you had known that he had technically set up the entire creation of the child, you never expected for Malleus to take so strongly to the little dragon fae.

To be fair, the entirety of Briar Valley seemed to rejoice at the news of your little one, so you supposed that your child was more important than it would be to a normal family. This was the continuation of his bloodline, without posing any risk of losing you, his favorite Child of man.

It was perfect, a blissful life together.

Malleus is constantly supportive of you and works hard to be both a father and a partner. He never fails to make your family feel loved and connected, even in trying times.

Rook Hunt

Rook's baby is... Rook's baby.

The little creature is mischievous, even for its young age.

It may not be able to crawl, but provided anything of importance is in its general vicinity, it will be swiped, hidden, or destroyed with an innocent giggle.

Rook manages the child much better than you. Although you love your child to death, they seem to have inherited Rook's predatory mind in their entirety, and it makes Rook far more equipped to handle the baby's demeanor.

When you look away, you'll most certainly be hit with the first thing in reach of your little one. You blame Rook for this, who reveled in showing them documentaries on hunting through the ages from birth.

Soon, it's more complex weapons. Sharp rocks from your trip outside to play have somehow become entrapped in a very deliberately tangled slinky and thrown at the back of your head.

You know it's all in good fun between Rook & your little one, but your baby will be as skilled a hunter as Rook someday. He was not wrong to call your child his little hunter from the moment it fell into your arms.

Rook wants a large family, so you'd better be prepared for lots of little predators running around the house. Good luck trying to keep them from attempting to murder each other.

Extra: Rook is the type to remember that recipe to a tee. If you so much as mention having another child, ten more are going to show up the next day. Honestly he's waiting for you to slip up and mention it. He's absolutely in love with your family, and would be overjoyed to expand it. Best of luck to you.

Floyd Leech

As soon as you were asleep that night, little child snug in a makeshift bassinet next to you, Floyd was already sneaking out to create more children.

You woke up to six more on the bed with you, one of which woke you up directly by biting you for attention.

Overall you've had much trouble managing all the little literal ankle biters. If it weren't for the liberal help from Jade, Grim and Ace, you would not be able to manage all seven.

However, this does not stop you from loving them entirely. The babies love you to death, and you're extremely bonded to them as well. When you and Floyd fight, there's suddenly seven growling creatures lined up behind you, at the ready to attack.

Despite being 110% like Floyd, they are very certain in their favoritism. Two of your children refuse to have him nearby at all.

He claims it breaks his heart, but you catch him praising your little ones with frozen grapes and soda to reinforce their bond with you.

Definitely not what a baby should be fed but when you said they couldn't eat seafood he switched gears to 'land food', and would take no further criticisms.

The best times are cuddle nights. Twice a week, all of you cuddle up in your Ramshackle dorm room and cozy up to a movie and snacks. This continues until well into their childhoods let's be honest. It becomes a Leech family tradition.

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human! Get it! GET IT!!!"

Your baby is very adventurous.... or something close to it.

Always tumbling off furniture and rolling off changing tables, or falling down for some reason or other.

You can have ten sets of eyes on this child and it does not matter, this baby will stubbornly look into your eyes and throw itself off the couch.

There's so much chaos, constantly, when it comes to little baby Zigvolt.

Sebek's excellent training is the only reason that your child has not been hospitalized for concussions.

But his excellent training has not saved him from the baby's love of biting their father. So, so many times. Every time Sebek catches it.

Chomp.

Every time he bathes it.

Chomp.

Everytime he changes a diaper.

Chomp.

Sebek is covered in tiny little baby bites.

But oh, how your baby adores you. In between bouts of defiance and finger-snacking moods, your baby loves to lie in your arms and cuddle.

It's arguably the most comfortable time you get with Sebek and your baby.

And I do mean arguably, because Sebek swears up and down that the baby is happiest in the presence of Malleus, and it's a hill he's willing to die on. But you know he really just wants an excuse to show off your baby to Silver.

Silver is not impressed.

Your baby is the very definition of a headache to Sebek. They cry everytime they see Malleus, they hate any sort of regimen, they love to play and play and... play more. All day long. No work or training to be seen here, baby Zigvolt will NOT be having it unless you want 4 hours of ear-splitting tantrums. And the baby still won't do the work when they're done.

But still, you see Sebek in every aspect of your baby. The strength, the way your child loves you unconditionally, but treats everyone else cautiously, and overall, the refusal to do anything that doesn't align with their little baby whims.

You've lovingly termed your baby 'Stubborn Ziggy the Second'. Sebek is not a fan, but he allowed it after you let go of 'Swamp dog & Swamp puppy'.

Lilia Vanrouge

screaming.

And more screaming.

It is not the baby. It is you trying to find the baby.

"OH MY GOD I LOST IT, I LOST OUR BABY OH MY GOD---"

And then--

"Weh!" The baby pops its head out of a cabinet with its hands up the way Lilia does to scare them.

The baby giggles and coos at its own joke, making grabby hands while it waits for you to come get it.

You're just dumbfounded. You're going to have to scold Lilia, because now your little one is picking up on yet another one of his pranks.

Your baby is a lot like you, with one exception-- your baby is so playful and teasing that it honestly gives The Great Lilia Himself a run for his money.

Last week, you were frantically searching for an expensive piece of jewelry, when it dropped down on your head from the spot where little baby Vanrouge was apparently levitating it from.

Oh yes, your child's magic is coming in strong. Though Lilia's is fading, you tease that perhaps the little one is just absorbing it from him outright, showing him videos of your child's most recent magical displays of strength.

Your family bonds through jokes and playful faces, entirely. Lilia is probably a candidate for The Worst Parent on Earth, so you do most of the housework. It's not like Lilia's never offered, it's that you promised Silver not to let Lilia traumatize his little sibling. All of your best moments are spent by making space in your schedule for your family time.

Lil Vanrouge needs all your love, and Lilia Vanrouge does too. It's a fine balance between upsetting either of them, though dealing with hours of screaming and petty annoyance is not a hard decision.

Just make sure both are getting enough cuddles, and maybe don't judge growing-up lil Vanrouge when they decide they love gaming...

Azul Ashengrotto

Don't forget about Azul, please.

Your baby has the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest smile, but is it as cute as Azul? Cuter, probably. But don't tell him that.

Azul loves your child with all his heart, but he's a bit miffed that it requires so much of your love and attention.

You and baby Ashengrotto are very bonded, so it's rare to see you apart for a moment. And in that moment... Azul is putting on Full-Drama Mode. Cuddles, cuddles. More cuddles. Give him a kiss. Could you please take a bath with him? He's just so tired, he doesn't think he can take a bath by himself. Would you mind giving him a massage? You're too tired? That's ok, you scratch his back and he'll scratch yours. He's not too tired after all. He'll give you a massage.

Your little one is so much like their father, wanting all the attention and love in the world, but getting the priority treatment. Little baby Ashengrotto is Octavinelle's favorite thing ever. Everyone just wants to love on them and see their cuteness.

Azul was going to charge people to see them until you put your foot down and said no.

Azul knows how precious his child is. Secretly, he does want another. Two, just for a healthy statistical number's sake. But he won't tell you that. He's trying to come to terms with the shift in attention with one tiny octomer right now, maybe waiting a couple of years would be more optimal. He will never admit that he's jealous of your child, but claims that he's 'working through his issues when you bring it up.

But Azul will always prioritize his baby as well, even if unintentionally. In the end, the wellbeing of his family comes first and foremost.

And maybe showing off mini-mer to the Mostro lounge staff.

[togetherwearerapture]

Boundary (Ethan x MC x Tobias?)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elle Valentine) x (hints of) Tobias Carrick

Description: Tobias and Elle get to know each other while working on a case. Tobias pushes some boundaries.

Warnings: A few curse words, underlying health problems. Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: Something a bit different, but I very much enjoyed writing this. There’s no overt Tobias x MC, so this is hopefully something Ethan stans can enjoy reading too. If PB won’t give me what I want, I guess write it myself lol 

*********

It’s early Fall, yet despite this fact and the hospital’s ‘Bloom-and-improved’ ventilation systems, the diagnostics office feels uncomfortably hot. Elle feels a prickling heat across her back, one that she has become accustomed to of late. The façade she’s wearing is beginning to feel like an actual mask, all clinical-scented and restrictive and artificial.

And yet, this is not a mask she’s wearing on a crowded, sweltering T carriage. Her discomfort is unwarranted; there are, after all, only three of them in the room.

Oblivious, Ethan and Harper continue their conversation. She’s tuned out long ago, but she catches the premise- something that Dr Yannick once said at a conference in New York several years ago.

If she really tried, Elle knows she could search for a moment to join in the discussion. But if she’s being honest with herself, she’s tired of searching for sidegates to enter their house of conversation, instead of ever being invited through the front door.

She tries her hardest to appear relaxed, unbothered, indifferent. But her uneasiness spills into her mannerisms, like water through a cracked pot. Manicured nails drum erratically on the top of her thigh. Her top teeth tug, over and over again, at her lips. The apex of her stiletto heel taps the diagnostic office floor like a furious knife.

She likes and respects Harper very much, and her feelings for Ethan, both as a diagnostician and as her romantic partner are unfathomable. But as juvenile as it sounds, she’s so tired of being shut out.

A whooshing of the sliding doors breaks her out of her reverie, and she and the two other occupants of the room look up. Tobias Carrick strides in, all beams and bravado.

Her own notion takes her by surprise, but somehow, she thinks, his arrival is the breath of fresh air she so desperately needs.

“Goooood morning team!” he chimes brightly. Once again, his arms are laden with a trayful of drinks.

“Morning,” Elle offers him a warm smile, Harper echoing her words.

Ethan nods towards the drinks.

“Another round on you?”

“Sure is, but this isn’t just any old round, Ethan,” Tobias replies. “Now I’ve spent a week on the team, I take great pride in this being the first drinks order that’s just right, for all of you.”

Ethan quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Tobias grins, and plucks the first drink off the tray.

“Harper,” he presents her with an extravagant looking drink. “Chocolate frappucino. Double the sugar, double the caffeine. The Friday OR schedule is always jam packed, so I reckon you’ll need it.”

“You got that right, I’ve got two laminectomies today,” she sighs, although the passion for her job shines through her eyes. She takes a sip from her drink. “No complaints from me!”

“Excellent,” Tobias grins. “Ethan- a Vienna for you. Classic, refined, and,” he winks, “only a little pretentious.”

Ethan accepts the drink with a roll of his eyes, as Tobias moves around the desk to Elle.

“And now, for you Elle,” he hands her the third cup. “I must admit, for you I went out on a whim. I just hope my guess is a lucky one.”

Curiosity piqued, Elle presses the rim to her lips. She is aware of the eyes of both Tobias and Ethan following her action with interest. Mild, pleasant citrus swims onto her palate.

“Lemon balm?” she asks Tobias. He nods. “You going to elaborate?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I’ve noticed that I’ve never seen you with a coffee before 4pm, so I figured you like to limit caffeine earlier in the day. And I’ve seen you make up a couple of herbal teas before. I took a gamble and figured you’d like this one.”

“Impressive guess, Carrick,” Elle nods, amused. She takes a sip. “It’s good, thank you.”

“Those are some very…astute observations” says Ethan stiffly, as Tobias takes a seat beside Elle. “Maybe you can put your perceptiveness to better use for our next case.”

He slides three manila envelopes across the table, and the team begin to peruse.

“Jake Adams. 17-year-old male admitted last night, with multiple cardiac arrests,” Ethan begins. “He collapsed at school, was unresponsive, no signs of life, but luckily a fellow student was able to perform high-quality CPR until the paramedics arrived. Heart rhythm on their defibrillator was ventricular fibrillation, he was shocked, back to normal sinus rhythm. Between the scene, being loaded onto the stretcher, in the ambulance and arriving here, he arrested and was shocked again 5 more times.”

“Jesus, poor boy,” murmurs Elle, a crease forming between her brows.

“Cardiology have asked us if we can determine the cause of the arrest, which will of course determine the treatment,” Ethan explains.

“This case only came in last night and since he’s now on life support, we’re able to bypass Bloom’s absurd judicial performance and get straight into it,” Harper adds. “Actually, Ethan and I discussed it at length before you both arrived, and we have some solid ideas.”

Elle looks up from the file, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“So I’m thinking Long QT syndrome, or maybe Brugada,” says Harper.

“They would definitely explain the spontaneous cardiac arrest,” Ethan adds, “Harper and I have ordered genetic testing for both on immediate family members already.”

“Any family history of sudden cardiac death?” Tobias asks.

“Not that we know of,” says Ethan. “But that wouldn’t rule it out.”

Elle frowns slightly as she browses the file. The tests ordered so far are scant, and in her mind, there are several pieces of the diagnostic puzzle missing. But this didn’t seem to stop Harper and Ethan steamrollering ahead, and seemingly settling on a diagnosis before the case had even been presented.

“Does Jake have a-”

“Do you remember that patient with Brugada syndrome who came in for a study a few years ago, Ethan?” Harper turns to Ethan suddenly.

“Ah yes, Paul?” Ethan chuckles, “he was quite a character.”

As Harper and Ethan drift off once again, Elle glances up to see Tobias looking at her quizzically. She lets out a heavy sigh.

Tobias clears his throat.

“Hate to interrupt your…uh…stroll down memory lane,” he begins. “But Elle was about to ask a question about the case, and you both spoke over her.”

The three other diagnosticians turn to Tobias, and a tense silence hangs in the air. After a beat, Harper speaks up.

“I’m sorry Elle,” she says, sincerely. “That was out of line, please continue.”

Tobias turns to Ethan expectantly, who meets Elle’s eye.

Something flickers across his face for a moment, a mixture of shame, guilt, embarrassment, perhaps? It’s a look that Elle can’t quite place. Then, his eyes skim to Tobias and he coughs awkwardly.

“Yes…thank you Tobias. We did speak over you, Elle, I apologise. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if he had a 15-Lead ECG.”

“Not yet,” Harper replies.

“Then until he has one, I don’t think you can consider Brugada syndrome,” says Elle. “We’d need to do an ajmaline challenge too. I can see from the echocardiogram reports in here that he has a structurally normal heart, so we can definitely exclude congenital heart disease as the cause. But for me personally,” she gestures to the file, “there’s a lot missing in here. About what actually happened.”

“How do you mean?” Ethan asks.

“About the context of the cardiac arrest. All we know is that he was at school, but what was he doing? Was he doing anything strenuous, did it happen at rest? There’s a lot more I’d like to know.”

The rest of the team nod thoughtfully.

“I agree…if it happened during exertion, there’s a few other things we could rule out,” says Tobias.

“Exactly,” says Elle. “I think we should consider catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia.”

“You’re thinking CPVT?” asks Ethan, interested. “It’s a possibility.”

“Yes, and it’s one I’d like to investigate more by visiting the school, and finding out more about what happened” says Elle.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Harper responds, twirling her fountain pen between her fingers. “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you on your expedition. Like Tobias said, I’ve got a full day in the OR.”

The rest of the team turn to Ethan, who hesitates.

“I…have a meeting with Naveen and the board until lunch,” he says. “Which-”

“-means it’s just you and me, Valentine!” exclaims Tobias, clapping his hands together. “Oh boy, I’ve been looking forward to my first house call with the diagnostics team. We’re going to be on some scooby doo shit, Elle!”

“I beg your pardon?” says Ethan, scowling. Elle can’t help but burst out laughing.

“That settles it then, me and Elle will go to the school,” says Tobias, standing up from his chair. At the same time, Harper gets a page that her surgery is starting and bids them a hurried farewell.

“I was going to say, which means the three of us can go this afternoon once I’m finished,” Ethan says stiffly, as Harper heads out. Tobias shoots him a bemused look.

“I’d rather not wait,” says Elle flatly.

Ethan has wasted enough time in their meetings by bringing up pointless anecdotes with Harper, and she’s very keen to revert her focus to the patients, to diagnostics- the things she loves.

“Me and Valentine will be just fine, E. After all, I’m sure what happened with Jake is still pretty raw to the kids and staff, we’ll need to handle it delicately. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, right?” Tobias flashes Elle a smile.

The same look as before flashes across Ethan’s face, although this time, Elle thinks, it has less of the awkwardness and embarrassment and more of the…something else. His bright blue eyes seem to narrow a fraction, as he looks between Tobias and the woman of his affections.

“Alright,” he sighs finally. “We’ll reconvene when you’re back.”

“Let’s get this show on the road!” says Tobias happily. “To the mystery machine!”

He crosses the room to retrieve his car keys from his bag, while Ethan turns to Elle, and this time, the look of concern is undeniable.

“If you need anything,” he closes some of the distance between them and lowers his voice just a little, “just call me.”

“I think we can handle it,” says Elle, not unkindly. “Enjoy your meeting. And tell Naveen I said hello.”

And with that, she and Tobias leave the office.

********

A short while later, Elle and Tobias are riding in his blue Mercedes S-Class on the way to Jake’s school, a short drive away in South Quincy.

“Not exactly the mystery machine, huh?” says Elle, glancing around at the plush interior.

Tobias shrugs.

“The same colour, at least.”

Boston blurs by as Tobias pulls into a main road, and Elle turns to look at him. His side profile is unmistakably handsome. He drives one handed, the other resting on his thigh.

“So, how’s June?”

He gives a wry half smile, and glances at her.

“Is that your way of asking if we’re still sleeping together?”

“No!” says Elle, honestly. “I’m just wondering how she’s fitting in at Mass Ken. I mean, she left Edenbrook when she thought the ship was going to sink. I got the impression she was pretty keen to be working on your team, now I can’t help but think now you’ve come here, Aurora too…don’t you think she’s been left kinda high and dry?”

“In all honesty, I haven’t seen her for a while, and don’t expect to again anytime soon,” Tobias admits. “But trust me, Hirata will be just fine. She’s head of the team there now.”

Elle raises her eyebrows, impressed.

“I’d say she moves fast, but actually, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“She was pissed as hell when I said I was leaving, don’t get me wrong,” says Tobias. “But she’s the strongest diagnostician on that team, and the strongest player too.”

“Player?”

“She knows how to play the game. She’ll have no trouble asserting herself as the new leader, running the show the way she wants to.”

Elle thinks back to her time working with June. The way she changed her personality to gain patients’ trust…and Elle’s. Distant anger simmers at the back of her mind, as she remembers how June stole her employee file.

“I agree…office politics was always child’s play for June.”

“Speaking of,” says Tobias as they stop at a red light. He turns to look at her. “The meeting this morning seemed very…uh…political.”

Elle pauses as feels the uncomfortable tingling rise in her chest. She could ask “what are you talking about?”, but she knows exactly what he’s talking about. And there’s something about Carrick that makes her want to cut the crap, to be upfront. So she is.

“You mean Harper and Ethan…”

“Yeah, that. Whatever the hell that was.”

Elle is silent.

“Does that…happen a lot?”

“More often than I’d like.”

“Well, good job I’m here then,” he grins.

Elle’s head whips around.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t appreciate the out.”

She rounds on him.

“Ok, let’s make one thing clear, I don’t need you to fight my battles” says Elle angrily. “Since Harper joined, every time the two of them have gone off track, I’ve steered them back on. I’m here for the patient, to solve the case, and nothing is going to detract my focus from that. That’s the way it’s going to stay, with or without your “outs”, Tobias.”

Tobias chuckles.

“You’re feisty Elle, I like it.” His eyes sweep over her from head to toe, which makes Elle feel more angry, but also, inexplicably, makes her stomach flutter a little.

“What I mean is,” Tobias speaks more seriously; sensing her anger, but mercifully oblivious to the other sensation, “I hope you know you’ve got someone else in your corner Elle. I know how much you care about your patients, and I know Bloom’s going to make life for the team difficult, and try and undermine our every move. That’s not helped when it feels like you’re not listened to by the actual people in it. You’re an excellent doctor Elle, and I value your input. The others should too.”

Elle is dumbstruck. She still doesn’t know what to make of Tobias Carrick; she had picked up pieces and hints from the scattered stories she’d heard from Ethan, most recently in their walk through the rose garden. But while considering the perspective and feelings of the man she so deeply cares for, she acknowledges it is biased. Elle knows that she has good reason to be wary of Tobias; it was not just Ethan he had toyed with, after all- Aurora had been burned by him too.

But, Tobias had helped to save her life. And the genuine smile that he gave her through the contamination screens of that cursed room, on the worst day of her life, had always stayed with her.

So, with a pinch of salt ready between her fingers, Elle decided from the moment he joined the team, that she would form her own opinion of him.

It occurs to her then, just how much Ethan sees the world in black and white. But Tobias Carrick is very much a shade of grey.

Before she can respond to him, the GPS on Tobias’ dash declares that they are arriving at their destination, and sure enough, Elle sees the school up ahead on the right.

“Here we are,” murmurs Tobias as he pulls in through the school gates. “Looks like we’re expected.”

They park up and head over to the school steps, surrounded by blossom trees, where a middle aged woman offers them a watery smile and extends a hand.

“Ah, hello…the doctors from Edenbrook, I presume?” she asks. “I’m Helena Brady, the principal of Greenview High.”

“Yes, we spoke earlier on the phone,” says Elle. “I’m Dr Eleanor Valentine, and this is Dr Tobias Carrick. We’re here to speak to the people that were with Jake when he collapsed?”

“I’m afraid it’s just the one person,” says Helena gravely, leading them through the school. “His friend Charlie was the only one who saw it, and then ran for help. How is Jake doing?”

“He’s still in a coma, but stable,” says Tobias. “The most important thing for us to help him, is find out from Charlie some more about the collapse, and go from there.”

Helena nods, as they come to a stop outside a small office.

“We’ve all been praying for him, it’s so tragically sad…nothing like this has ever happened to a student before,” she sniffs stoically. “Thank you for your work doctors, but please, be gentle with the boy. He’s still very shaken.”

Elle smiles at her reassuringly.

“We will be, don’t worry.”

As Tobias and Elle knock and enter the room, the boy springs to his feet, eyes wild.

“You’re the doctors…how’s Jake, is he-oh god is he-is he dead?” he cries.

“No, Jake is ok. He’s been through a lot, but he’s recovering,” says Elle gently. Charlie sinks back into his chair, though his knees are still quaking.

“It’s Charlie right?” Tobias asks, pulling up a chair. “I’m Tobias and this is Elle. We’re Jake’s doctors. Do you know why we’re here today?”

“Y-yes, that’s me,” Charlie sniffs. “Principal Brady said you were here to talk to me about Jake…I was so scared, I thought, I thought that meant he had died.”

Elle kneels in front of him, laying a gentle hand on his knee.

“I’m really sorry that us coming made you think that, Charlie,” she says. “It must have been really tough watching Jake collapse like that, I’m not surprised you’re thinking the worst. But we think we can help Jake get better, we just need your help.”

Some of the tension seems to leave Charlie’s body upon hearing this; his shudders subside. He pulls anxiously at the strings of his hoodie, unruly teenage bangs falling over his forehead.

“So, Charlie,” Tobias asks as Elle pulls up a chair beside him, “do you think you could tell us a bit more about what Jake was doing when you saw him collapse? Had he been running, exercising, working out?”

“No,” Charlie says quietly. “He wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“That’s really helpful Charlie, thank you,” says Elle. “Can you tell us if he standing up or sitting down? Did he lose his balance or seem dizzy? Did he complain of feeling ill, or funny in any sort of way before it happened?”

Charlie stiffens.

“No. He was-we were-we were arguing.”

Tobias and Elle exchange a quick look.

“Is Jake your friend, Charlie?” Tobias asks.

“No! No he’s not, and I’m so sick of pretending he is!” Charlie shouts. “Jake’s my boyfriend!” Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Oh Charlie, I’m so sorry,” says Elle. “You said you were pretending…does anyone else know that?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“No. That’s what we were arguing about,” he accepts a tissue that Elle offers, blowing his nose.

“Take your time, Charlie,” says Tobias, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “It’s ok.”

After a few deep breaths, Charlie steels himself.

“We’ve been dating for three years, kind of in secret, kind of not,” he explains. “My parents know I’m gay, and they’re fine with it. They’ve met Jake before and they love him, they know we’re together. But he’s not even out to his parents, they just think we’re friends.”

He sniffs.

“Now we’re in senior year, we’re both looking at colleges, and we want to go to different ones. We’d be living five hours apart. I don’t know if we can make the long-distance work, especially if his parents don’t know about us. In the times we’d both be back home, they wouldn’t understand why he’d want to spend a lot of that time with me. But the one thing I just really, really wanted, was for us to go to senior prom together. As a couple, you know? To just dress up together, get photos together, dance together, one last time before we leave.”

“And Jake…wasn’t on board with that?” asks Elle.

“He was,” says Charlie. “He said he really wanted to. He just…wasn’t on board with the part of that which meant he’d have to come out to his parents.”

“I see,” says Tobias.

Charlie’s eyes begin to fill with tears again.

“I was saying, before he collapsed, that he didn’t love me,” he cries. “That he must not love me if he’s not prepared to come out. He was getting so upset, begging me, telling me of course he loved me, he was just scared, and then-” he sobs. “Then he was on the floor.”

Elle kneels beside him again, taking both his hands in her own.

“I’ve been googling stuff that could have caused it,” Charlie sniffles. “I saw there’s this condition, some long one beginning with, a C, I think, that means people’s hearts can give out when they’re stressed.”

Tobias raises an eyebrow, somewhat impressed at the boy’s diagnostic skills.

“What if-what if I could’ve killed him, because of the argument? And I told him he must not love me, I didn’t even mean it, I know how hard it is to come out, I didn’t mean to-” he buries his head in his hands.

“Charlie- Charlie listen to me,” says Elle. “It’s true, that we think Jake might have a condition called CPVT. It means that certain situations, like exercise, or stress, can cause the heart to go into an abnormal rhythm. But that does not mean, whatsoever, that any of this is your fault. We all say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment, when we’re angry. If Jake does have this condition, and we’ll have to run a couple more tests to know that for sure, then it means that we can treat it, and stop it from happening again. It could have happened to him at anytime, anywhere, but he was lucky enough to be with you. You’ve helped him have a lucky escape.”

“R-really?” asks Charlie.

“Really,” says Tobias, who is on his feet. He lays a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  “Your principal was telling us earlier that you did CPR on Jake while you got others to run for help?”

“Yes,” Charlie mutters, looking up at Tobias.

“Well Charlie, I think you saved his life.”

Charlie’s eyes gleam with hope.

“What are you applying for at college?” Tobias asks.

“Um..cardiac nursing,” he says.

“Very fitting. You’ll always be welcome at Edenbrook for some work experience.” Tobias smiles, genuinely. It’s the same smile Elle remembers from after the attack.

“Do you think, then, that he’ll be ok?” Charlie asks tentatively.

“Yes, I do,” smiles Elle. “And I think that you and Jake will be ok too.”

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

Some time later, Elle steps out of the school. After speaking at length with the school counsellor, she had made sure that Charlie had some extensive therapy sessions in place. Tobias is waiting for her at the foot of the steps, beneath the blossom trees, and she is surprised to see he has a cigarette in hand.

“You smoke?” she raises an eyebrow at him as she approaches. “I thought you’d know better, Tobias.”

He takes a drag.

“Vices, Valentine,” he quips. “We all have them.”

Elle vaguely remembers Ethan had once said the same thing about butter.

“Carcinogens, though. Really?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I’m dirty, what can I say?”

He dutifully puts out the cigarette, as Elle gives him a reproachful look, and turns to her.

“You were good in there, with him,” says Tobias.

“Thanks…so were you.”

“We make a good team,” he smiles, and his expression softens a little. “That was kinda heavy though. You bearing up ok?” he asks.

Elle nods.

“I’m fine. I just hope Charlie will be ok, I really want to make sure he starts therapy as soon as possible.  I know how much of a difference it made for me, after the attack.”

She trails off, and Tobias seems to sense the darkness clouding over her eyes. The mild September breeze sifts through the blossom trees above them with a gentle sigh.

“I don’t think I ever actually said this to you,” says Elle quietly, “but thank you. For helping to save me and Raf, that day.”

“No thanks needed,” he responds. “I wanted to do everything I could to help.”

He pauses only briefly before continuing.

“You know, out of everything that happened that day, all the work we did in the lab trying to find an antidote…the one thing I remember most is how Ethan was in that room. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like that before. About anyone, or anything.”

A sudden chill trickles down her neck, goosebumps erupt on her forearms; a million tiny foothills.

Since their conversation in the car after Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Ethan had never really spoken in depth about his own feelings during the attack. Sometimes, in early hours when they laid in bed together, with the rain hammering against his window, she would mention it.

And every time, she would see his eyes darken with so many unsaid words. He would fix his gaze desperately on her like she was evaporating steam, set to vanish from existence in a matter of moments. His hold on her waist would tighten, fingertips tracing her soft skin as if to remind himself she wasn’t a ghost.

There had been whispers in his bed in the stillness of the night, when they were both half asleep. He had uttered sleepy confessions and declarations to her; some so heartfelt and moving, she still questioned whether they were real or if she had dreamt them.

More often straight after the attack, but still now sometimes, she would wake in his arms to find him already looking at her, his eyes filled with wonder, pain, and something else that she was starting to place.

‘Why are you awake?’ she would gently murmur.

‘I couldn’t sleep. I-had a nightmare.’

She would press herself closer to his chest, feel his strong arms encircling her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘I’m here, Ethan.’

‘I know. I’m…so glad you are.’

She is jolted to the present with Tobias’ voice.

“Even if he didn’t show it this morning…Ethan’s got it bad for you, you know.”

Elle cranes her neck to look up at him- at the man who shares so much history with Ethan. He’s almost as tall as her lover, but slightly less built, shoulders not quite as broad. Alike in many ways, but different in so many others.

“Why are you here, Tobias?” she asks, without breaking eye contact. “You had it all at Mass Kenmore. You’re an excellent diagnostician, you could have gone anywhere. Why, of all people, would you want to come and work for Ethan, someone you have such a complicated past with?”

Tobias’ hazel eyes, a contrast to Ethan’s azure blue’s, look into hers deeply. She knows that there’s something hiding beneath their golden depths; either earnestness, an ulterior motive, or perhaps something more complicated- a mixture of both.

He takes a step towards her, raising his hand towards her face. Her breath hitches, then climaxes in a soft exhale, when he simply removes a lone blossom petal that has settled on the lapel of her white coat. She wonders what exactly she had been expecting him to do.

Tobias twists his tongue between his teeth, a half-smile playing on his lips. Once again, his eyes roam over her from head to toe. This close, Elle can smell his cologne. It’s good; notes of leather and pine and exotism drift to her olfactory nerve. It’s a contrast to her favourite aftershave of Ethan’s, which smelled like bergamot, cedar, and home.

Tobias drops the petal to the floor, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m here Elle,” he murmurs, “because I want to push boundaries.”

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

Ethan leans against his desk, fingertips drumming impatiently. His meeting had been finished for a while now, but he was still waiting for Elle and Tobias to return.

His old rival’s keenness to go on an outreach call with Elle had stirred something within him. Something in his head had switched on. A distant alarm bell that had been silent for some time, had started to ring.

Lost in thought, he mulls over the events of the morning.

He’d done it again.

He, and Harper, had spoken over Elle when she was trying to talk about the patient. Not only that, he recognises now, but before Tobias had entered the room, the two of them had been reminiscing about something that didn’t involve Elle in the slightest.

He doesn’t know why he keeps slipping up. He harbours no romantic feelings for Harper whatsoever, but he’s been enjoying the chance to work more closely with her, the friendly conversations, to share stories and experiences.

But they haven’t just been work related, he thinks. Did I really need to bring up the flamenco lessons? Or Gaston’s? He recalls the look on her face when he’d told Elle he planned to take her there because of its intimacy, immediately after discussing it with Harper. Before Elle’s forced smile and her gracious reply of “I’d like that,” he’d always thought he had caught a flicker of dismay, of hurt, on her features.

Now he’s certain it was more than a flicker.

I don’t deserve her, he thought.

With a swoosh, the doors of the diagnostics office open. He sees the familiar head of immaculately coiffed blonde locks, and as his eyes travel down to Elle’s beautiful face, his heart soars, and he can’t help but break into a wide smile.

“Elle!” he says happily, pushing himself up of the desk.

I missed you, he foolishly finds himself wanting to say, despite the fact that like most days at work, it’s only been a few hours since he’s seen her. But as his eyes travel to Tobias following her in, he keeps the admission to himself.

“We have an answer,” says Elle triumphantly. “We’ve listed Jake for an ICD insertion tomorrow morning.”

“It was CPVT?” Ethan asks.

“Yep,” says Tobias. “Elle’s hunch was right. Turns out it was an argument with his boyfriend that brought on the cardiac arrest. We ran a test for CPVT as soon as we got back, while you were still in the meeting, and it’s positive.”

Elle smiles brightly.

“Jake’s going to be okay.”

Ethan beams. He’s exceptionally proud of her.

“Excellent work Elle,” he leans forward to squeeze her arm, as bold a gesture as he dares while they have company. “And thanks Tobias, for helping out.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” says Tobias. He looks pointedly at Elle, then adds, “believe me.”

An unpleasant sensation coils in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. He tries to push it down.

As Tobias crosses the room to take a phone call, he steps closer to Elle, lowering his voice.

“Listen Elle, about earlier. I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, tentatively taking her hand in his own. He caresses her tiny fingers with his thumb. “It’s unacceptable for me to talk over you in meetings, and I…know that this isn’t the first time it’s happened, and that there are, uh, other things. I’m sorry if my actions have ever made you feel excluded.”

Elle’s bright green eyes look into his thoughtfully, though she says nothing; silently willing him to continue.

“I’d like to make it up to you. I think a date night between us is long overdue. Can I take you for dinner tonight?” he asks. A flash of hope, along with the tinge of dismay he remembers from before, travels across her face. “Not Gaston’s,” he adds quickly. “I want to find somewhere new with you. For us.”

Her face floods with warmth, eyes gazing into his searchingly. He desperately scans her beautiful face, seeking some inkling of her true feelings; the ones he knows she’s bottling up.

“You’re right, it is long overdue,” she says finally, her gaze steady. “And I’d really like that, to find somewhere new to go to dinner with you. But I can’t do tonight.”

His heart sinks a little, and as if sensing this, like she always seems to, she squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“I’m out for drinks with Si, Aurora and Jackie tonight. But we’ll go soon.”

She offers him a soft smile, which he returns.

It doesn’t quite quell the slight but unmistakable feeling of anxiety in his stomach. It’s guilt, it’s the gnawing thought that he will never be good enough for her, the idea that he’s taken her for granted.

Worst of all, there is the completely irrational, but terrible notion that he could lose her.

And somehow, the thought that he could lose her in living rather than in death, as he had once feared, is almost more terrible.

She gently lets go of his hand. On the other side of the room, Tobias hangs up the phone.

“I’m going to go and speak to Jake’s parents,” says Elle, slipping off and readjusting her white coat.

Ethan’s eyes travel over her form-fitting pencil skirt, clinging to her delicate body in all the right places.

He doesn’t miss the way Tobias’ do the same. Then, as if knowing he’s being watched, he looks up at Ethan. His eyes narrow, and the corners of his lips twitch.

Ethan wants nothing more than to sock him in the jaw.

“We’ll check in later, once Harper’s finished surgery?” she asks, breaking the two men out of their reverie.

Ethan nods, and Elle bids them goodbye. The click of her heels on the linoleum echoes into the tense silence. Then, he can’t hold it in any longer.

“Could you be,” Ethan begins through gritted teeth, “a little more fucking subtle, Carrick?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I can’t help it, Ethan, and clearly neither can you. A woman like that, body like that…we’re just as powerless as any other red-blooded male.”

Ethan curls his fists in the pockets of his coat.

“Don’t talk about Elle like that. I won’t have you disrespecting her in that way,” he spits, taking a step towards him.

“You want to talk about disrespecting her?” counters Tobias, unflinching. “Because I think taking a stroll down memory lane with your ex, every five minutes, is pretty disrespectful to the woman you’re currently fucking.”

Ethan is stunned. Had she told Tobias that it had happened before? Did she tell him they were seeing eachother, or had Tobias clocked it himself? What exactly had they talked about while they were away?

“Elle is- she’s off limits,” he snaps, the only response his seething mind is able to come up with.

Tobias smiles, satisfied at seeing the other man riled up. Then, infuriatingly, he turns away.

“Who decided that, Ethan?” he says quietly over his shoulder “Her or you?”

And with that, Tobias turns and leaves.

*******

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading this far! I wanted to explore the dynamic between Elle and Tobias, and the way I wrote him in this fic reflects my own thoughts about him; I think he’s a good guy, as demonstrated by him helping to save her life and his thoughtfulness, but I’m definitely suspicious of his ulterior motives and his past actions. I also wanted the sexual tension between Ethan, Elle and Tobias, and was hoping that PB would make Tobias call out Ethan shutting her out of meetings. They didn’t deliver so I did it myself lol Also wanted Ethan to start feeling insecure about the way he’s been treating Elle since his behaviour has been trash thanks to the OOC writing, but I still love him

[masquerade-reimagined]

This is really long and I don’t recommend you actually read it.

Hey! Pixelberry! C’mere. I got something to talk to you about.

No, it’s not about how it’s completely incomprehensible for the Foreign Affairs MC to not know who Blaine is as soon as they first see them. But it is about FA! So pull up a chair because this totally non-professional writer is gonna sit you down and talk to you about how awful the flirting is in this book. Specifically, during this scene:

Let me establish the process I took to make this completely unnecessary post. I went through all of the flirting options for all three LIs in this book and sorted them into one of the three following categories (with quantity out of 30 -- the current total number of flirt options through the first six chapters).

Okay/Good: Nothing offensive and even mostly makes sense for MC to say/do. (21/30)

Iffy/Pushing It: Not downright terrible but possibly somewhat awkward, inappropriate, or nonsensical if you really think about the situation. (6/30)

WTF: Way over the line or completely inappropriate to the relationship and/or situation. (3/30)

Overall, not too bad, really. Most of the flirting options are fine. They make sense, they aren’t overly aggressive (unless it’s a Blaine scene and then Blaine is more receptive to that sort of thing, so it’s fine).

The Iffy/Pushing It category is split evenly across all three LIs at two each. They’re all entirely contextual and aren’t necessarily bad. They can just tilt toward being a little on the awkward side when you think about the context of the situation, and the relationship between MC and the LI.

WTF is all Tatum, and two of the three are from chapter six (the third is the leaning in for a kiss in chapter two for the reasons I’m going to elaborate on in a moment). You probably already know which two I’m talking about.

Now. The first one, "I'm glad we can be here together as adults," isn’t necessarily bad on its own. It’s that CRINGE AS HELL follow-up. THIS cringe as hell follow-up:

What the crap is this?!

What part of this kind of flirting is appropriate for this relationship? Don’t get me wrong, I am all for the overt, intense flirting options. Especially when it makes some stoic hunk of a man stammer and blush. Yes. YES. Sign me the eff up, please.

But these are childhood friends, former BFFs, who (as far as we’re aware at this point) were not romantically involved. They also have neither seen one another in some indeterminant number of years nor stayed in close contact. They’ve drifted apart -- considerably. Even if MC stuck around for the poker game in chapter 4, they’re still not really close. Even if there’s an attraction between them and had been one before Tatum shipped out, there’s no precedent for this kind of behavior.

So why the hell is MC insinuating that they’ve both had sexual partners and coquettishly dragging their fingers up his arm. How does that make sense for these two? Why would an overly forward MC applying a ton of pressure on a man who is already somewhat uncomfortable in his role because he’s struggling with balancing who MC used to be to him and who they are now be a good example of flirting?

Seriously. Tell me. I need to understand what the hell is going on here. Because it only gets worse with that awful “as long as you’re not vanilla in bed” nonsense. These would’ve been more appropriate farther down the line in their rekindled relationship. Maybe after there’s been more romantic development. When Tatum has more consistently reciprocated. Because it’s not well timed, it’s even more awkward and shiver-inducing. I’m not sure that vanilla sex one would’ve ever been good, even if it gives me hope for a kinky af Tatum scene in the future (I will pay good 💎💎💎💎💎 for that).

(This sort of awkward, forced affection is also why leaning in for a kiss in chapter 2 is super cringe. Tatum can barely look at MC and they’ve only been reunited for a couple days. Don’t try to kiss the dude for the first time, okay?)

What makes these two terrible offerings even more obviously terrible is that the next two in this scene are almost perfect.

Now wait. Here me out. I’m going to explain.

“I’ve been a bit lost without you” is an example of what all of the flirting should be like between Tatum and MC, at least for now. It’s a nostalgic sort of flirting option. It appeals to their shared memories of their friendship and how much they meant to one another. The “here together as adults” one could have gone this route and, rather than being something that would make me unbelievably uncomfortable if someone said that to me in real life, it could have been a moment for MC to talk about how it’s a time for them to get to know one another and the people they’ve become. Without their parental overlords looming in the shadowy near-distance.

But we already know you didn’t take that route, so... way to waste an opportunity there, PB. We’ll just add it to the pile of other missed opportunities, shall we?

Anyway. Tatum’s response to “lost without you” is also good, if not a little spoiled by his intense gaze and hitching breath. It shows that he cares about MC in a way that goes beyond the whole bodyguard/VIP thing they have going on now. It’s a lovely exchange that speaks to the hope of being able to pursue something more with someone who has already played a significant role in their lives.

And I also argue that MC wiping the ice cream from Tatum’s lips is a strong flirting moment because MC doesn’t make a big deal out of it. They don’t lick it off of their fingers while awkwardly maintaining eye contact or sit there with their mouth millimeters from his or, y’know, lick it off him. They do their thing, maybe drag it out a little bit but not an aggressive amount, then sit back, and leave Tatum going 😳. It’s a great example of one of the more forward, assertive flirting options that doesn’t take things too far.

Unlike the first two options.

IN SUM: Less of the first two kind of things. The flirting options that are just wholly inappropriate for the characters, the relationship, and the setting, and make you feel disgusting when you choose them. More of the thoughtfully considered options and reactions that correctly demonstrate the growing (or already established) connections between the two people involved.

Please. Thank you. Bye.

[pascal-istheway]

Deep Water - Chapter 1

Read it here on ao3!

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Warnings: Some Violence - Implied Non-Con

Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Reader

Characters: Francisco “Catfish” Morales, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Triple Frontier Ensemble

Tags: Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, We are basically torturing Frankie for this, I’m apologizing in advance

Word Count: 3130

MASTERLIST

Two Years Ago - Columbia

The last call anyone had heard from you was four days ago. You’d been in Columbia on a humanitarian mission with a local group, something about teaching today’s youth or whatever, Santiago hadn’t really listened to much if he’d been really honest. He just wanted to make sure his baby sister was safe and with people that could look out for her.

You had assured him on the call that you were fine, you’d brought the knife you were allowed to carry with you, but had to leave the gun he insisted he buy for you back in the states to which he explained how that defeated the purpose of owning the gun. You just rolled your eyes at him, knowing how overprotective your brother was. Santi was always on you for being safe, regardless if it was in Columbia or back home in your apartment in a somewhat sketchy neighborhood.

But as you bounced in the back of a windowless van, hands bound and eyes covered, no clue where you or your crew were being taken, you suddenly wished very much that you’d had that gun.

Five years ago - You

“Load up! Let’s go!” Santi smacked the side of the truck as he yelled out to the apartment for you, boards and cooler loaded up. “Come on! We’re wasting daylight here and the guys are already out there!” he waited a few more seconds before hollering your name again.

“I’m coming! Jesus, hold your fuckin horses, I was trying to find my hat…” you ran out to the truck, opening the old creaky door to his rusted ford and sliding in next to your brother on the bench seat. You casually toss your hat in the back seat before buckling your seatbelt. The beauty of living in California was all the access the best surfing the states had to offer. Your brother and his best friends from his unit were all meeting up for an early morning at the local spot and you decided to tag along, hoping to see the boys again.

You’d known some of these guys your whole life, thankful that they all got to serve together. Santiago would’ve been ok on his own, but he and Frankie had been close since they were kids. Knowing that they were out there in the shit together gave you the comfort that they were having their backs covered.

Santiago drives into the public parking lot, all of the guys already there except for one, Tom, who you had yet to meet. You hop out, saying your good mornings to most of them while keeping your eyes out for Frankie. You knew he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be here but yet, you didn’t see him amongst the guys.

Not wanting to seem desperate, you just helped unload, carrying things to the spot on the beach for the guys to start getting their gear on and ready. The sun had barely started to come up, making the sky a brilliant color of orange and pink. The most beautiful view in California.

“Oh shit! I forgot my hat in the truck! I’ll be right back,” you run back to the truck, feet struggling in the sand.

When you reach the truck, you fling the door open and bend over, searching for your hat that’s fallen on the floor in the back seat.

“Careful, you don’t want to get stuck like that…” you hear him behind you, teasing you as you snatch your hat and spring back up.

“Frankie! You made it!” you squeal, throwing your arms around him. He pulls you in, arms snaking around your back as he tucks his nose into your hair.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says softly into your ear before pulling away, “last real surf of the year” he smiles, the corners of his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

There’s a sadness in his voice, one anyone else would miss if they didn’t know him. But you do know Frankie. You know him better than almost anyone. You know what his voice sounds like during all the highs and lows, what it sounds like when he cried after his mom died, what it sounds like when he told you he got accepted into pilots training, and what it sounded like when he was drunk and whispered he loved you at 3 am.

“What’s wrong?” you pull back, holding yourself at arm’s length from him.

His mouth opens, the words right at the edge of his lips, but then they close again before he shakes his head, “nothing… let’s just enjoy this. Ok?”

So you do… you surf and swim and enjoy the morning with the guys. The warmth of the sun caresses your skin, soaking into your bones to warm you from the ocean. There’s a moment when you’re out on the water, the waves reflecting like glass and you let yourself enjoy the way it casts its light off Frankie’s long hair, bringing out the specks of gold and grey in his messy sea-soaked hair.

You love this - being out here with all of them. Your brother is the only real family either of you have. Your parents died when you were younger and when you were old enough to take care of yourself, Santiago enlisted and gained a new family. Brothers in arms.

You try not to think about the worry in his voice from that morning, doubt creeping in as the day went on. This was a rare occasion that all the guys could get together like this and usually when they did, it was before a big mission out of the country. Your heart sinks, realizing what this could possibly mean. Santi wouldn’t have told you, knowing that he wouldn’t have wanted to ruin the day. But Frankie? He told you everything. What held him back from telling you something as important as this?

“Here, you look like you could use this,” Frankie dumps himself down beside you in the sand, handing you a cold beer. You glance up at him, grateful for the drink, and bring the cold bottle to your lips, taking a long pull before swallowing.

“Thanks, it’s perfect,” you smile, leaning back on one hand and bracing the bottle on your thigh.

“Did you have fun today?” Frankie asked, taking a drink from his own bottle.

“Yeah, it really was the perfect day. Perfect weather too. Got some great waves out there,” you looked out to the water crashing up on the shore and watched as the sun splattered a watercolor of incredible colors throughout the sky.

“I think Santi is setting up the bonfire if you’re planning on stickin’ around,” he nudged your shoulder with his own.

“Yeah of course… he was my ride anyways,” you take another sip, enjoying the familiar feeling the hops gave you on an empty stomach. Knowing where that leads though, you look at Frankie and tell him “we should probably get some food in us soon.”

“I had a feeling you’d be hungry,” he reached behind him into a small cooler and pulled out two sandwiches. Chicken for himself and peanut butter and jelly with a side of Doritos, just like you liked. “Made ‘em special, just for us,” he joked.

A smile crept over your lips as you grabbed the sandwich baggie, pushing your beer in the sand as you ripped the bags open. He watched in disgust as you opened your sandwich and plop the Doritos on the PB&J, closing it and taking a massive bite.

“Dmon’t knmock mit ummil yoo twy it” you say around your food, knowing damn well he didn’t understand a single thing you said.

“Sure thing sweetheart,” he nodded, brows furrowed with amusement as he took his own bite.

You guys laugh and talk around your food and drinks, the effects of everything making you warm and at peace. Frankie is one of those people that you feel so at home with, not that your brother isn’t one of those, but Santi isn’t someone that you’d call at 2 am to come and get you when you’ve had too much to drink. He would just scold you the whole way home while Frankie - well Frankie would let you rest your head in his lap and would rub your head the entire way home, soft fingers tucking your hair behind your ear as you drift off to sleep from the lull of the engine.

And the only reason you know this is because he’s done it on several occasions for you. In college, shit even in high school. He protected you from Santiago when he found out you had your first boyfriend, although he did give you an interrogation of his own privately afterward. He was there for you through your first heartbreak. He taught you how to shoot your first gun… and your second.

When he turned to you, the haze of the drunkenness between the two of you, and blurted out that they were leaving again, despite being under the impression that they wouldn’t ever have to go again being so close to the end of their contracts, you were of course heartbroken. This was someone that was so much more to you than your brother’s best friend. He had become such a pertinent part of your life. You hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for that news.

You looked back over your shoulder at Santiago, Will, Ben, and Tom, laughing and talking around the fire while you and Frankie sat off to the side. The casualness between them all as they joked between each other, not fearing one last deployment. Your heart squeezed for them. They had each other, bound together by something so strong, something you’d never fully understand.

“Take a walk with me?” his voice pulled you from your thoughts and you see Frankie next to you, hand stretched down to help you up.

“Sure,” you take it, dusting the sand off yourself and grabbing another beer for the walk.

You walk until you can barely see the fire in the distance, the night becoming so dark all you can see is each other at your sides under the blanket of stars.

He whispers your name, taking your hand and pulling you to a stop, “I can’t leave this time without saying anything… I have to…” his words get caught in his throat.

You know what he wants to say, the words he needs to say because you’ve been feeling them for as long as you can remember, “Frankie…” his name comes out as a whisper.

You’re inches from each other, breath mingling together between you as he leans in, his eyes searching for the permission that he didn’t need to ask for. He already owned you, heart and soul, he just didn’t know it yet. This man would always own you, no matter what he did, no matter where he went.

You close the space, your lips gently brushing against his. Softly at first, but as his hands come up to frame your face, the passion that ignites behind him explodes. His mouth parts, yours following his lead as you allow him to explore your mouth. God this man knows how to kiss. It’s incredible, unlike anything you could’ve ever dreamt. Your hands move to his neck, pulling him in closer as his tangle in your hair.

“God, you’re so perfect…” he whispers against your lips. His mouth moves down your jaw, kissing and nipping its way down your throat. Your fingers find their way in his hair, playing with the soft curls at the base of his neck. A moan escapes your lips as his teeth graze your skin softly.

“Wait,” he pulls back, attempting to catch his breath, “I want to do this right. Not on the beach like some cheap date,” he half laughs, looking down at his tented pants and groaning, clearly regretting stopping.

“We don’t have to stop…” you suggest.

“No, I don’t want it to be like this for our first…” he pauses, “I want it to be,” his cheeks almost, blush? “I want it to be right… to be perfect.”

The sincerity in his voice carries to his eyes and you can tell he means it. He wants to love you right, the way you deserve. Not in the dirt or in the sand, but in a soft bed with fresh sheets and plush pillows. He wants to be able to wrap you in blankets after and hold you until the morning sun comes through the curtains and shines down on your freshly fucked skin. He wants to wake up next to you and see your hair splayed against his pillows.

The thought makes you smile, and you nod, knowing this is the start of something absolutely incredible. Something you never thought possible…

Columbia - Frankie

“God I fucking hate the goddamn jungle,” Benny slapped a mosquito on his neck, wiping away the blood on his hand on his shirt, “Fuckin’ gross.”

“Would you shut the fuck up Benny and keep your eye on your spot?” Ironhead said over his com, “this is supposed to be recon, not a fuckin’ vacation.”

Pope rolled his eyes at them, anxious to get eyes on Lorea, but more importantly, anxious to get eyes on you. He had told the guys exactly what they needed them to know, which was almost nothing about why they were actually in Colombia. Specifically leaving out the very important detail that you were the reason why he had gathered up the troops, paid them each $17,000 out of his own personal checking account, and practically begged them to come down under false pretenses of the Agency needing them for a recce mission on Lorea.

He didn’t even need to beg them, they all had packed their bags willingly and flown over the border into Columbia to gather intel on Lorea. Pope had shown them around the area and talked up a big game about how the narcos were causing all these problems and Lorea needed to be dealt with.

Technically, the recon wasn’t a complete lie. He had been down here for over three years, running himself in circles around the cops and narcos on Lorea’s payroll trying to find a bullshit way to get to him. He’d tried everything and at the end of the day, everything isn’t enough when it comes to this guy. He had his hand in every single nook of this god-forsaken country.

He had a girl on the inside, someone who ran money for Lorea and had offered to give up the location in exchange for her brother’s safe return from jail. Admittedly, she may not have given him this information if he had not been sleeping with Pope, but no one could blame her. He’d had it with this fucking country and at this point, there were no more rules to break. Sleeping with an informant was the least of his worries, especially now that he knew that you were somewhere in the house he was staking out.

Tom turned to Pope, “so you sleeping with her?” He took a piece of gum and shoved it in his mouth, offering one to Pope.

Santiago turned to him and scoffed, “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he grabbed the gum and unwrapped it, shoving it in his mouth, “ew man, what the fuck is this shit?”

Tom laughed, “Cola flavored.”

“You owe me a piece of Hubba Bubba dude,” he said, spitting the gum out along with a huge wad of spit. He took his canteen and swished his mouth out as Tom laughed at him.

Back in the day on missions, they had this unspoken rule, someone always has to bring gum. It was like a good luck charm. And Tom, being the leader, always brought the flavor he wanted, never the one that everyone else liked. Fucking asshole. You don’t fuck with tradition…

“I’m at the gate,” Benny’s voice cuts through their ears.

“How’s it looking over there,” Pope responds, holding his binoculars up to take a look from his vantage point.

“Well, looks like things were done about 82% right… They got all the toys out here but these cameras aren’t even aimed at the weakest breach point…” Benny reports.

“Your girlfriend making her normal money drop?” Tom asks

Santiago glares at him, “she ain’t my girlfriend.”

“Informant, whatever…”

“Yeah, she said she’s prepared to record the inside of the house. We need proof of Lorea and the money,” Pope sighs.

Frankie’s voice cuts in, “Hey, uh Pope, I got kids over here. Does he have kids living in here with him? Because that is not what I signed up for.”

“The family is not the problem fish, they are the answer,” Pope says. “Lorea’s very devout… sends his entire crew with his family every Sunday morning. Leaves him, and three guards home alone… every. Sunday.”

Miller pipes up, “why would he do that?”

“Well, he’s worried about someone taking his kids. That and he never leaves his money. Also I don’t think he believes anyone actually has the balls to come out here in the middle of the fuckin’ jungle and rob him,” to this, everyone laughs.

“Look alive guys, we got incoming,” Miller said over the comlink as a van approached.

“Shit Pope, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was beautiful,” Benny says over the com.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Tom turns to Pope and shakes his head.

“Fuck off.”

They watch her pull through the front gate, van bouncing through the mud and muck. Gunshots echo out in the distance and Ironhead comes over the com, “I got an execution going down over here guys.”

“Courtyard?” Pope asked.

“Yep… looks like mostly men and two women judging on the builds, can’t see any faces though,” Ironhead responds.

“Fuck…” Pope whispers, “uh, yeah that’s his spot,” his voice tightened.

Screams echoed throughout the coms from Ironhead’s mic, “shit guys, he’s taking some girl into the house… I -” his voice cuts out, clearly unable to watch anymore.

The screams could be heard even without the coms, Pope knowing exactly who it belonged to. He’d heard every sound you could make, screams, crying, laughter. He was your brother and helped raise you, he may have needed confirmation you were in there but in his gut, he already knew.

No one else would be able to see the way his heart rate had quickened, hoping that you weren’t in that group of people, now lying dead on the court. As the last gunshots echoed out throughout the jungle, and your screaming stopped, Pope did something he hadn’t done in a very long time… he prayed.

[freckledoriya]

“pass the stapler” (midoriya x reader)

PAIRING: izuku midoriya x reader  WARNINGS: none, just fluff!  WORD COUNT: 1.6k

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | requests are OPEN!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my first fic for @bnhabookclub​​‘s hero camp bingo event! my bingo masterlist will be posted soon and updated as I make my way through the spaces. thank you to @shoutosplaything​ and @crack-head-lia​ for last minute beta reading this! and as always, special thanks goes to @gallickingun​​ for being my rock and helping me with everything I do ♡

Your first day working at the hero agency was an eventful one-- work orientation, desk assignment, figuring out the coffee machine. The day would forever be known as the one where you started your dream job, but on top of that, it supplied another memory, one that will forever be ingrained in your mind: the moment when you laid eyes on Izuku Midoriya. None of the romantic comedies or cheesy romance novels could have prepared you for what you felt in that instance: the air being knocked out of you, the way everyone else in the room seemingly disappeared, and the undeniable feeling of a magnetic pull, urging you closer and closer to this stranger.

You felt like a teenager again, hopelessly in love with a person who barely knew you existed. The extent of your interactions with Midoriya was polite nods when you passed each other in the hallways, your heart had no business skipping a beat like it did every time those green eyes met yours. Still, you couldn’t help but swoon every time he’d sit at the table next to yours during lunch break. His presence was intoxicating. 

When he first spoke to you, you felt a high like never before. It was a Friday afternoon, another day that you’ll never be able to forget, when Midoriya asked you to pass the stapler. You kicked yourself for how unbelievably cheesy you felt about it, seeing it as a truly magical moment. It became a routine, you watching the news in your apartment late at night, looking to see if the number one hero, Deku, had beaten down another criminal. If he did, that meant he had paperwork to turn in the next day, and that meant that you’d get to hear those five beautiful words pass through his lips: “can you pass the stapler?”

You found him positively perfect. Even attributes that one could see as faults, like his incessant muttering, his stubbornness to put himself before others, his scarred skin that resulted from that very stubbornness- no matter which way you look at him, you adore Izuku. You often found yourself dreaming the day away, simply yearning to touch his freckled skin and feel his lips on yours. The way his knuckles brush against your finger tips when you pass the stapler to him was addicting. Even though he wasn’t using his quirk, you swore you could feel electricity jolt from him to you.

This routine went on for a few months, and you had begun to accept that passing office supplies to one another would be the extent of your relationship with Midoriya. However, today, he came up to your desk, looking as dashing, yet nervous, as ever.

“H-hey, there, I have something to ask you…”

You reflexively reach towards the stapler on your desk, but he quickly interrupts you.

“Ah, no, I don’t need the stapler right now. But thank you.”

“Oh,” you reply. “Then… what can I help you with?” 

You swear you can feel your heart beating out your chest. Because if he doesn’t want the stapler, what else could he possibly want?

Midoriya clears his throat and swallows, looking down at his scarred, calloused hands as he twiddles his thumbs. “W-would you wanna go out? W-with me? On a, um.. date?”

“Yes!” you reply, the word almost exploding from inside you. 

Realizing how loud and slightly desperate you must have just sounded, your eyes widen with embarrassment as you begin to wheel yourself back from your desk, as if cowering away from the situation at hand.

 “I mean, sure, if that’s what you want…” you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Did you have anywhere in mind?” 

Midoriya bites his lip and looks to the side. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You let out a giggle at his adorable bashfulness, releasing some of the pent of nerves inside of you. How he hasn’t realized that he’s the whole package is beyond you. In your eyes, he’s everything a person could ever want: kind, compassionate, selfless, and attractive as hell. 

“We could go to the park nearby?” you suggest. “Hang out, walk around, and talk?”

He stops his muttering of possible date ideas to smile, definitely relieved that the responsibility of choosing was lifted off of his shoulders. 

“That sounds great! Let’s do it.”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, really just wanting to make sure you weren’t making this whole scenario up in your mind. “Saturday afternoon work?”

“Yeah! Looking forward to it.”

A beat passes between the two of you before Izuku shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “I, uh, actually do need to borrow the stapler as well.”

__________________________________________________________________

You’ve been on plenty of first dates before. You’ve gotten used to the slight jitters, the twisting of your stomach. But this was different. Your insides felt as if you were full of bubbles, bursting in anticipation and making you lightheaded. You attempt to regulate your breathing as you arrive at the park for your date. The air is cool as it blows against your flushed cheeks, already burning as you think about spending time with Izuku.

You’ve played out every possible scenario in your mind, creating an extensive list of conversation starters just in case there’s a lull in dialogue. As you’re going over your do-not-talk-about-topics in your head, you spot the green-haired hero sitting on a blanket at the top of a grassy hill. A classic wicker basket sits next to him, and your heart soars once you realize what Izuku has in store for you: a picnic.

As you walk up to him, he quickly stands up, greeting you with his signature bright smile. You can’t help but admire him in his more casual wear: jeans, a simple, loose-fitting t-shirt, and his classic red high-tops. 

“H-hey!” he greets you. “Hope this is okay, but I thought we could have a small picnic? I know it’s a little random but-”

“It’s wonderful,” you interrupt, looking at the setup. 

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming-- in what universe would you be presented with a perfect, park picnic date from the biggest crush you’ve ever had? 

“Crunchy peanut butter with strawberry jam,” Izuku blurts out, snapping you out of your trance. 

You look at him with confusion as he begins to open the basket and gestures toward the two sandwiches in plastic bags. 

He begins to blush as he hands you your sandwich. “Um, I noticed that you always bring a PB&J to lunch at work. And I overheard you one day talking about why crunchy peanut butter and strawberry jam make the perfect sandwich…”

“They do!” you laugh as you begin to unwrap the sandwich. “It’s just science”

He laughs along with you, and the sound of his laughter gives you the same warm feeling as listening to your favorite song or drinking hot cocoa on a cold, winter’s day. It feels like coming home after a long trip. It feels right.

You spend the next couple hours eating and discussing each other’s passions: you learn about Midoriya’s unwavering adoration for All Might (which you had already known about, from studying your crush’s socials) and the unbelievable amount of pressure he puts on himself to be what others expect him to be.

“I just have to keep being better,” he says to you before taking a sip of water. “It’s what I owe to everyone who’s helped me get this far.” 

You tilt your head to the side, hoping it’ll somehow let you see things from his perspective. “That seems like a lot of pressure to put on yourself. Maybe those people didn’t help with an expectation for something in return… Maybe they helped because it’s what you deserve.” 

He looks to the side and bites his lip, shying away from opening up to you. You take a breath before reaching over and putting your hand on his. This skin contact feels somehow different than the hand-brushes from the past when you would pass the stapler. There is no shock of electricity, no jolt of energy. Instead, you feel more at peace than you ever did before. The world feels more at peace. You feel like as long as your hand is holding his, nothing could ever throw you off balance. 

This gesture causes Midoriya to stiffen before meeting your gaze. When he sees your gentle and understanding smile, his shoulders relax and he lets out a breath that he was inadvertently holding. 

“You know, I-I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now,” Izuku blushes as he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“R-really?” you stutter, taken aback by this confession. Could it really be that he’s been admiring you as much as you’ve been admiring him?

“Yeah…”  he looks down and swallows. Sensing that he’s building up the courage to tell you something important, you try to give him a reassuring squeeze of his hand. 

What could he be gathering up the bravery to say? Was he about to confess his feelings for you? Maybe he really does like you just as much as you like him. Or maybe it’s something much more unfortunate. Maybe he’s changed his mind after spending the afternoon with you. Maybe he-

“It’s just that I wasted so many blank pieces of paper by stapling them together so I could talk to you...”  

The two of you break into laughter as the sun begins to set, the purple and pink hues matching the blush across both of your faces as you both realize that yes, you adore the other just as much as they adore you. 

[whump-town]

“It’s a Date”

@random-ravings this is for you... I know you asked for a full blown date night but for some reason I am unable to do it to the fullest. I also don’t know enough about romantic get away but I do hope this suffices 

“Do you trust me?”

She’s not sure what level of insanity she must have been on the other night to think that her slip up at JJ’s wedding would be forgotten by her anal rentenive boss. Low and behold, here he sits in her drive-way trying to coerce her into his black jeep with the promise of a get away looming ahead of them. Of course, the details of said adventure are hidden behind the dark shades covering his soft eyes but his warm smile is pulling her in. Despite the cold knife of trust issues reminding her that he’s only being nice because he feels bad for her. 

Not because of the way he’d held her as they danced. Or the spark that her touches sends down his spine, leaving him shuddering and reaching for more. As if she’s a cigarette to place between his teeth and draw a healthy pull off of. She’s the kindest person he knows and no matter how much distance he puts between them he craves her like nicotine in his lungs. 

He always comes back wanting more.

Behind her own sunglasses, she sizes up his jeep. It’s not really what she was expecting but when is Aaron Hotchner ever predictable? Picking up the suitcase at her ankles, she shakes her head finally coming to answer the question he’d proposed upon placing the car in park. An inquiry on trust. She trusts him with her life-- with her heart-- but she doesn’t risk the reaction the truth has. “About as far as I can throw you,” she grumbles with an eye-roll and a smirk she can’t contain.

The soft chuckle that leaves his mouth has her head jerking, frowning at the sound she hasn’t heard enough of to consider he’d made it. Her reaction only makes the smile on his face grow and she stands for a loaded second just basking in the warmth that placing that smile on his face gives her. She has to shake her head to pull her thoughts back to the problem at hand-- Hotch and whatever trick he has up his sleeve. 

“So,” she tosses her bag in the back beside one that’s identical to her own. Out of habit, she bites her tongue instead of observing that ‘great minds think alike’. If Reid were here he’d conclude ‘fools seldom differ’. Hotch might not come to that same conclusion but it’s too late to tell. “Where are we going?”

Hotch takes a moment to respond. He puts the car into reverse, pulling out of her driveway in a swift but solid motion. It’s easy to forget that Hotch really is a good driver-- even if he spends a lot of government hours bashing the cars he’s driving into UNSUBs. He has a lack of regard when it comes to his own life. 

She wonders why.

“We’re on vacation time,” comes his answer, a strange crooked, care-free nature to the smile he flashes her way. There’s something youthful about it. She imagines he used to be like this all time. Quick with a joke and lighthearted before the job weighed him down. 

She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to worry at it. He hasn’t told her much about the excursions besides to dress for the weather and to bring a nice outfit for a fancy dinner. The amount of things that could mean worries her more than she’d like to admit.

He catches sight of the anxious frown she settles on his dash and decides that the gig is up. Besides, how much fun can his plans be if she’s not equally as excited? He clears his throat, “there’s this B&B that JJ always gushes about--”

Emily’s eyes light up, “The Monty House?”

He chuckles at her clear excitement. Her voice had gone up, softening considerably like the way Jack might shout-out when offered a bowl of ice cream before bed. If he’d known it would be this easy to make her happy he might have done this silly little trip a long time ago.

Actually, that is a lie. His nerves have been wracked for the better part of the last week since he made the reservation. There’s no way he could have done this without the prompting of both her ‘It’s a date’ and the dance they shared at JJ’s wedding. 

Admittedly, he can be a bit of a coward but his heart is pretty damaged. He’s not sure he can handle Emily stomping on it.

Judging from the smile lighting up her face though, heart stomping isn’t on the agenda. In fact, she could kiss him.

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax as the tension leaves his body in the nervous chuckle he lets out. His hands get some blood back as his grip on the wheel loosens, his poor knuckles returning to a fleshy tone instead of bone white. “The-The Monty House,” it feels good to have that off his chest. “The whole weekend.” Of course, he won’t tell her everything he has planned. No point in spoiling the whole weekend.

He finds himself smiling. How does she do that to him? Twist his stomach in knots with her silence and then have him smiling so hard his face hurts the next second.

“Does that mean we’re stopping for road snacks?”

There are few instances when they drive to crime scenes but on occasion a crime only warrants sending two agents. It’s no secret that on those particular occasions, he prefers going with Emily. She’s comfortable in their joined silence unlike Reid who anxiously fills it. There’s no pressure to talk about his personal life like with Dave who’s endless lines of question never seem to stop. 

With Emily there is  just… ease.

And snacks. Lots of snacks.

“Check the glove compartment,” he says with a smile. He knew she’d need refreshments even for a simple two and a half-hour road trip. He knows a lot about her actually.

She raises an eyebrow and, sure enough, she finds his glove compartment filled with snacks. There’s a red gatorade along with the SweetTart Ropes, Sunchips, and Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich. It’s the kind of  thing that looks like a thoughtless addition. Red gatorade is a straightforward go to drink but she knows it’s more than that. It’s the only gatorade she likes and he knows that.

Just like he knows her favorite chips are Sunchips and that she thinks PB&Js are a timeless classic. 

“Aaron Hotchner,” she smiles at the little collection of snacks in her lap. “You’re the sweetest man I have ever met.” 

Hotch feels his face get impossible hot, despite the cool air coming in through the window beside his head. He can’t look at her because he knows she’ll see the blush and the last thing he needs is giving her that power. Not when he’s got a whole weekend to spend with her and countless opportunities to bring up him blushing like a schoolgirl over a compliment. He clears his throat, “uhm, thank you.”

Fifteen minutes in and she’s already getting the better of him… good God how are the next two hours going to pan out?

“Good God!”

Her sudden outburst causes him to jump in his seat. The car doesn’t jerk or accelerate but he’s good and jostled from the comfort he’d settled in. He looks over at her, eyebrows going up as he realizes she’s looking at him. “What?”

Oh.

She looks smacked with worry, the kind that he knows isn’t going to go away easily. “When was the last time you slept?” 

There’s always the option to play dumb but from his experiance attempting to pull one over on Dave-- it’s very unbecoming. He can always tell the truth but that’s about as good of an idea as leveling his loaded service weapon to his temple. He could meet her half-way. Exclude all bits involving Beth-- that she’d broken up with him after JJ’s wedding. Something she’d been thinking about doing anyways but after seeing him with Emily there were things she, evidently, couldn’t avoid.

But he’s still got to explain how that was nearly a week ago. 

He clears his throat, pulling his sunglasses back into place-- hiding the evidence. “Uhm,” he’s really bad at buying himself time and each second that passes means another moment she’s going to weigh whatever lie he comes up with. So he settles for a truth, just not all of it. “You’re not the only one who’s had a bad week.”

There’s a soft moment of contemplative silence shared between them as Emily considers exactly what that means. It sounds straightforward enough but Hotch is admitting to something being wrong and that’s not as simple as one plus one is two. 

“Do you…” she licks her lips, unsure of exactly what it is she should do. She knows what he would say to her but the giving and taking of their relationship hasn’t been set up. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He grimaces at that offer but he realizes that’s unfair of him. He’s asked her to admit to him when she needs help. To her credit, she has on multiple occasions. So, it’s wrong to ask that of her and then put up his walls. This is no easier for her than it is for him.

“You wanna make another deal?” she asks. She reaches over and pokes him in the side with one of her candies, smiling when she bites into it. He raises an eyebrow at her, shaking his head. No matter how much time he spends with her… she never ceases to confuse and exasperate him. Even now, chewing on candy and trying to pry into his mind. “If I have to tell you when I’m having a bad day, you have to tell me.” 

He grunts, raising his eyebrows but turning his attention to the road. He hates that idea. He can’t and won’t lie about that but is that not the same ultimatum he gave her? The instances are fundamentally different-- the trauma she was reeling from was fresh in all of their minds and he could be a sympathetic ear to that. Especially, if hearing about the worst parts of her day granted her a longer stay with them.

With him.

Now, it’s a little different. The things he needs to tell her about are a lot more personal. It’s not about the connection of Foyet and Doyle-- the sheer thought of which sends a cold chill down his back. Now if she wanted to talk about that he would still be adamant but, at least, it would be helpful. 

“Aaron?”

He snaps away from his thoughts, having worked up a slight cold sweat from the directions of his thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about Foyet. That won’t help anyone. With a shake of his head he stutters a confirmation to her idea. “Uh-Yeah, s-sure.”

His eyes are on the road but he’s about a million miles away. He just keeps thinking about Foyet. 

Emily’s not sure what to do. 

Hotch is her friend. In many aspects, her best friend and as jouveline as those words are often made to sound she means it in the most sincere way. She trusts him with her life and beyond that, in ways that she’s not yet encountered. She means that when she comes to a crossroads in her life he is always there. 

Just like now, as she grapples with the decision to leave for London or stay. He’s her right-hand man and… now, she’s uncertain as to how she should repay that. 

Of how she can. 

It feels like an endless pit separating them. She starts there.

He’s driving with his left hand, leaving the right to rest limply in his lap while the other’s knuckles turn white with the tension his whole body is failing to hide. Silently, she reaches over and nudges his forearm with her hand. He scowls down at her hand, confused but he caves and moves his it.

He huffs a little when she takes his hand. Surprised more than anything else. The only hand he’s held in years is Jack’s and, even now, Jack’s getting too big for that. 

“I do mean it,” she says, giving his fingers a tentative squeeze. “You’ve heard all my stories. You know all my drama…” She smiles, just thinking about it. “I think I can handle what little drama Aaron Hotchner encounters in his day to day life.” 

He chuckles at that. It’s a good point. His life isn’t chocked full of twists and turns. Jack has some interesting moments-- mostly his bully turned best friend Paul. She already knows about that though. That leaves nothing really. What’s he so afraid of?

“Alright,” he relents, returning her gentle squeeze. He clears his throat, “but can we talk about it later? After--”

She cuts him off, “we can talk about it whenever you feel comfortable.”

Something in his chest settles and he relaxes. He doesn’t notice until several minutes later but he doesn’t pull his hand away from hers.

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

They were supposed to get two rooms but that’s too much to ask for and they end up in a room with two twin size mattresses an arms length away. Neither are that worried with the proximity. As far as sleeping arrangements go, this is still better than about 90% of the hotels they’ve stayed in over the years.

The problem is what might haunt them at night.

The last thing Emily wants is to wake Hotch up in the middle of the night thrashing like a heathen possessed but the freaking devil because her subconscious loves to taunt her with Ian Doyle. 

Talk about making things awkward between them.

It doesn’t seem to bother Hotch though. The first thing he does upon putting their bags at the ends of their beds is collapse onto a bed. He doesn’t move for a solid five minutes, just lays on his stomach, face down. She’s starting to worry about him-- hoping he’s just managed to fall asleep and not dead-- when he groans and sits back up. 

He runs a hand through his bedhead and Emily has to look away-- damn, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. 

“You up for anything on this itinerary?” 

She can’t turn around because she's very aware of the fact that he’s standing right behind her. He offers her the booklet and she takes it, unable to breathe until he takes a step back. She can hear the sound his five o’clock shadow makes as he scratches at his chin and-- good God give her a freaking break her heart can’t take this. 

“Uhm,” she keeps her eyes trained on the paper but for the life of her she can’t focus on the words. She just keeps thinking about the fact that Aaron Hotchner is about a foot away looking drowsy and soft. He looks like he’s dead on his feet. “Why don’t we just get dinner and go to bed early?”

As much as he wants to just agree with her and call it a night-- he’s adamant that she actually wants that. “Are you sure?”

She nods, “yeah. You’re tired--”

He stands, shaking his head. “No,” he tells her. “We’re here so that you can relax. I can handle whatever it is that you want to do.” He takes the booklet back, flipping through it and looking down the list. He scowls in concentration and she finds it endearing but also hardheadily aggravating. 

“Hotch, I mean it.”

He finds one and points at it, asking, “how about a massage?”

She rolls her eyes. “Aaron,” she says, folding the booklet up despite his light attempts to tell her no. “I just want to eat some dinner and go to bed.” 

He deflates a little… he wants her to have a fun time and he feels like she’s giving that up because of him.

“I mean it.” She starts to pull at her hair, raking her fingers through her thick hair to work it into a ponytail. “Besides,” she says, “JJ said they have a killer grilled cheese and I’ve been dying to find out if that’s true.”

That he believes. 

So they have grilled cheese in the room, passing small talk back and forth. Emily finds Jurassic Park on the TV and at nine thirty when he turns his bedside light off, he reassures she’s fine to leave her own. Even if it makes her feel pretty silly that she’s managed to get herself worked up over a PG-13 movie from the 90s. 

She is fighting her own fitful sleep when she hears the soft sound he makes from the other bed. Everytime she closes her eyes Ian Doyle is right there. Blood seeps between his teeth and, this time, Hotch is there too. Ian draws a knife close to Hotch’s throat, it’s bared for easy access by the tight grip Ian has on Hotch’s hair. 

She wakes just as the blade draws blood. 

Judging from pained grunt Hotch lets out, her demons aren’t the only ones coming out tonight. 

“Hotch?” She’s not entirely sure what she should do. Hotch’s hearing has been on the mend for the better part of five years. It’s not his strongest sense-- they’d all found better ways to his attention than calling out his name but right now waving a hand at him or throwing a piece of crumpled paper isn’t going to get the job done. 

“Hotch!”

She stumbles back as he sits bolt upright, his breathing ragged. For a moment, she sits stunned on her bed. Watching as he looks down at the comforter across his legs, unable to place where he is. She can hear his breathing become more distressed, a wheezing groan tearing from his mouth as he raises his head to look around.

“Hotch?”

His left hand comes up to his chest, clenching his t-shirt tight in his fist. He’s steadily working himself up. 

She stands up, calling his name softly again and frowning when he doesn't look at her. “Aaron,” she hesitates just a step from the bed. He looks up just as she stops, tears streaming down his face, and she can’t bear the sight. “Oh, sweetie.” She climbs into his bed and pulls him into a hug. He shakes in her arms and her heart breaks for him. 

He always stops and checks up on her but… what has he been hiding from them to let things get this bad?

“So, we’ve both been having some bad days.” She buries her face into his shoulder, breathing in the steady and warm scent of Hotch. She’s unable to pick apart the distinct parts of the way he smells. There’s aftershave and deodorant but also laundry detergent and… he smells the way home does. Distinct and safe. She’d know him if she were blind and deaf and scared out of her mind. 

Aaron. 

He leans into her touch but the way she holds him isn’t making it easier to breathe. Her fingers spread out on his neck, working against the way his hair grows to scratch as his scalp. He feels himself melting into her and in return, she does the same.

They’re just a puddle of humans. Welded together. Neither is able to escape the hold of either. She’s practically sitting in his lap and, in return, he’s wrapped a leg around her back. 

“Why weren’t you sleeping?” he asks, voice muffled by her shirt. He’s settled back down, able to pull in a steady stream of oxygen. It doesn't get caught in his throat. What it’s doing is letting the exhaustion creep back into his bones. He’s too weary to rest. 

Emily pauses just long enough to realize that there’s no way he’s going to believe her if she says anything besides the truth. At the same time… “Who said I wasn’t,” she whispers, wincing at just how much her voice betrays her. She moves and presses her face into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes tight with the false hope he’ll let it go. 

She can feel the way he tenses, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t believe her. 

There’s still a small inkling in the back of his mind that says-- you woke her up. 

“Nightmares,” she finally answers. His fingers spread across her back, thumb trailing spine. “Doyle--” she hates the way he tenses at the mention of the other man’s name. She’d done everything to protect them and all she’d done was hurt them worse. She certainly made things worse for him. Forced him to lie to the only family he has to protect her-- a woman who lied about her career and entered his team to blackmail him.

But he eases after a moment. He rubs his hand up her back, offering her the same comfort she’d extended. 

She sinks into his chest. “Doyle was going to kill you,” she whispers. Her tears run hot and he can feel through his shirt. 

He presses a kiss to her hairline. He holds her to him, shaking his head. “It’s alright now,” he promises, throat thick. He’s painfully reminded of his own dreams. Waking up and having to scrub his hands in the sink to reassure himself that his subconscious has just been very unkind. That her blood is not caked under his nails. 

That she’s home.

Sleeping.

Alive. 

He wonders how many cadets the two of them could scare away. Tell a room full of kids-- that’s what she was when she was scouted out of college-- that taking that oath means more than they’re currently able to give. It’s the nine stab wounds on his chest. It’s talking serial killers down from suicide even when as they stand to realize the world would be a better place if they through with it. It’s demons that you can never really get away from.

“Can we just…” she wants to ask him to just hold her. To spend the night like this. She loses her nerve. Swallowing thickly around the tightness in her throat, she leans back from his shoulder. There’s only an inch of space between their faces. Her hands reach for him on it’s own accord, her thumb tracing his jawline. 

“Emily,” he whispers, his eyes moving back and forth between hers. Unable to figure out what he should do. 

She looks down at his lips, her cheeks burning. 

“I-I don’t want you to do anything you might regret,” he manages, eyes giving away the vulnerability behind the statement.

She kisses him. It’s a hungry, desperate kiss that he leans into. “Something like that?” she asks a moment later.

He nods, unable to find words. 

“Can we just lay here,” she asks. “Will you just hold me?”

He nods, can’t trust his voice. 

She trusts him though. She falls asleep in his arms. 

He lays there for the longest time. Her head is tucked under his chin and, even in her sleep, she’s holding his hand. 

The ceiling turns. 

His anxiety is creeping up but each time he gets to the point of hyperventilation she moves a little in her sleep. 

She doesn't know what she’s getting herself into.

She’s not going to love him.

Not for long.

“Aaron?” She blinks and pulls the blanket up to their chins. “Go to sleep.”

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Lost At Sea (But I Am Home) [Part 1]

Dean x Reader 

Word Count: ~4600

Warnings: Smut (vanilla, but explicit) and Dean emotions. 

A/N: This came from a request by MJ on the occasion of her birthday. It was supposed to be done, like, months ago, but there was much loss of sleep, tearing out of hair, rending of garments, wailing, etc. before it came together. I hope it’s worth the wait. I missed these two.

This is not a coda, exactly, and not a sequel, exactly, to Marked. It’s a fic of its own, but you might want to read that first. There will be two more parts to this. 

Big thanks to @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @justcallmeasmodeus​ @mskathywriteswords​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ and all the rest of the gay screaming crew for your brainstorming, reading, and inspiration help. Y’all are the best. 

We show great loyalty to the hard times we've been through. We are filled with riches and wonders.  Our love keeps the things it finds, and we dance like drunken sailors,  lost at sea, out of our minds. You find shelter somewhere in me, I find great comfort in you. And I keep you safe from harm.  You hold me in your arms. And I want to go home, but I am home.

“Riches and Wonders,” The Mountain Goats

*

Dean used to think that love might feel like safety. 

When he pictured a relationship, a family, a partner, he used to picture apple pies and picket fences. Love, in his mind, was always tied to comfort, PB&J with the crusts cut off, security, and all the other things he knew he’d never have again. The person he is, the things he does… he wasn’t meant for that soft kind of love. 

Dean’s gotten so used to hiding his softness behind sharp edges and impenetrable walls that sometimes he forgets it’s still there. The sort of woman he once thought he could love would be shredded to pieces before she could get close to it. 

Then he met her. 

When he tries to talk about it, tries to describe the way she makes him feel, he ends up stuttering and stumbling over the words, because it’s nothing like a quiet house on a suburban street. It’s not safety that he feels when he looks at her; it’s nothing so simple as that. She makes him feel about as safe as a fucking hurricane, except that when the wind is howling around them, when rain is falling and the churned-up waves are rising, Dean looks at her and knows, with absolute certainty, that in spite of the storm raging around them and within them and between them, they’re going to be okay. 

So, yeah, Dean was wrong about love. He’s starting to realize that he was wrong about a lot of things.  

*

Dean storms into the kitchen and almost rips off the cabinet door in his haste to get a glass, and he doesn’t notice Cas sitting at the table until he’s slamming the whiskey bottle down on the counter and going for the first gulp. 

Cas just raises an eyebrow. 

“Don’t give me that,” Dean grumbles. He knocks back the rest of the glass and pours another before sitting down across from Cas, slumping in his chair and glaring down at the pitted surface of the table like it’s done him some personal wrong. 

“You had an argument,” Cas says, gravelly and implacable. 

“You listening in?” 

“It wasn’t a conscious effort. More like an unfortunate inevitability.” 

Dean winces. “Guess we were a little loud at the end there.” 

“Yes.” 

Cas doesn’t ask. He just sits there, drinking his tea. Dean really didn’t intend to spill his guts, but fuck, his thoughts are rattling around in his skull, too loud to hold in. 

“When something’s wrong, you’re supposed to fix it,” Dean blurts out. “Right?” 

“What sort of thing are we talking about here?” 

“Just… she was pissy all day. Fuckin’ quiet, and trying to avoid me, and… fuck, I don’t know, I just kinda snapped eventually. Mighta lost it on her a bit. And she was having one of those days, I guess. Had a nightmare last night.” 

“And… you apologized?” 

“Well, yeah. She just wasn’t having it, said she needed space to sort through it on her own. ” 

“And that bothers you.” 

“Fuckin’... yeah. Because if she’s mad at me, I’m the one who’s gotta fix it, right? I’ve gotta take care of it, I’ve gotta make things right, and she just won’t fuckin’ let me. How the fuck am I supposed to make her feel better if she won’t let me?” 

“Did you ask her that?” 

“Well, yeah. She said it wasn’t anything I could fix, it was just… something she had to deal with. Went to work, wouldn’t let me drive her. The fuck am I supposed to do with that?” 

Cas gives him a look like he’s being the densest motherfucker on the planet. 

Dean scowls down at his glass and takes another sip, trying to sort through the tangle of his emotions. His insides are a mess, disorderly and beyond his control, and it’s infuriating. 

“I wish I could fuckin’ do something,” he says softly, swallowing around the knot in his throat. “I want to just… take care of it for her. Make it better.” 

“Even though she said you couldn’t,” Cas prods. 

Dean shrugs helplessly. “If she’d just let me,” he says feebly, all too aware that he sounds petulant and whiny. 

Cas rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck off, Cas. She’s just… out there. Walkin’ around without me, and I don’t know what she’s thinking, and there’s nothing I can do.” 

“What exactly are you afraid of?” 

Dean bristles. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and then takes a sip of whiskey to cover his confusion. 

“I just don’t like it,” he admits gruffly. “Not being able to do anything.” 

“Did she say she’d be home later?” 

“Yeah. After work.” 

“You know that she loves you.” 

“Fuckin’... yeah, Cas, Jesus.” 

“You believe this is something you’ll work through?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, without hesitation, almost surprised by how much he believes it. 

“You trust her. You know she can take care of herself.” 

“Yes. What… what’s your point?” 

“My point is that she is a grown woman, a remarkably capable and strong one at that, and there are going to be moments when she does not want you to fix her, or take care of her, or make things right for her. Clinging to the illusion of control is only going to make things worse.” 

Dean feels like a fish, opening and closing his mouth stupidly. Part of him wants to get angry; it would be easier than dealing with the uncomfortable ache in his chest. He knuckles at his eyes and takes another drink. 

“Fuck, Cas, don’t sugarcoat it or anything,” he mumbles. “Should never’ve introduced you guys.” 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but…” Cas shrugs. 

Dean makes a face at him. There are a few minutes of comfortable silence as he listens to the ever-present background whisper of the air circulating through the bunker, like the lungs of some gigantic underground beast, and to the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. 

“I miss her,” he says hollowly. 

Cas gives him a wry little half-smile. “I believe they call this personal growth.” 

Dean scowls. “Don’t patronize.” 

“You weren’t the one slamming the door behind you. You admitted you wanted her to stay. That’s new, for you. Growth.” 

If Cas wasn’t so fucking right, Dean would probably hate him right now. As it is, he has all too many memories of walking out on Cas, or shoving him toward the door…  it’s either cry or laugh, at this point, so Dean digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and huffs out a laugh. 

“Shove it up your feathered ass. You gonna have a drink with me, or what?” 

*

Years ago (probably before he was technically old enough to be meeting girls in bars) Dean met a girl — Sasha? Sandra? — in a bar. He doesn’t remember her name, but he remembers the freckles on her pale shoulders and the long corkscrew curls that framed her face when she lay down, like a tangled halo on the pillow. 

After, as they caught their breath, Dean played with her hair, twisting one curl around his finger and releasing it again, fascinated by the way it bounced back into its spiral. He remembers putting his arms around her and telling her she was beautiful, and he remembers that she looked away, eyes suddenly shuttered. 

“It’s okay,” she said softly, and started looking for her shirt. “You don’t have to pretend it means anything. That was fun.” 

He learned quickly, from her and from others, what was expected of him. They wanted him to be confident, if not cocky; strong, but not too rough; kind, but not exactly sweet… they wanted him to be charming, and fun, and not much more than that. Above all, they wanted him to leave. 

He learned. Leaving became second nature. Leaving was better than waiting around for the inevitable day that they would leave. 

Women didn’t want tenderness or romance, at least not from him. Maybe they wanted those things from someone who might stick around, but Dean would never be that guy. Dean might be the thrilling story they told their friends the next day, a fondly scandalous memory, just dangerous enough to feel like an adventure: I can’t believe I did that. 

He learned to take what he could get. He learned to separate the emotional from the physical. He learned to hold back, to tell stories without showing the scars they’d left, to share tiny slices of the truth without ever really revealing the messy whole. He learned to wall off his soft, vulnerable places. Nobody wanted to see those. 

It was easy to put those walls up, even easier to hide behind them. Dean started to think he was safe there. He thought his carefully constructed fortress was stronger than any storm. Then she happened. 

She keeps proving him wrong. Dean’s getting used to it. 

*

She still hasn’t gotten home yet, by the time Dean bids a bleary-eyed goodnight to Cas. She had the late shift, and he knows that, but his stomach is jittering cold under the blanket of whiskey heat, and he doesn’t expect sleep to come easy. 

He hears the echo of Cas’s voice as he tumbles into bed: you know that she loves you. 

He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, there’s wet heat and suction enveloping his cock, and he’s thrusting up into her mouth helplessly, rock-hard, gasping her name into the darkness before he’s fully conscious. Dean’s caught in the limbo between waking and sleeping, trying to separate reality from his dreams, but this feels too good to be a dream. Dean’s never dreamed anything this good. 

She’s rubbing her thumb along the cut of his hipbone, stroking sweetly even as her tongue does something that should probably be illegal. He reaches down and grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she lets out a low, pornographic moan, her throat vibrating around the head of his cock. 

“C’mere,” Dean pleads, hoarse and sleep-slurred. She pulls off with an obscene slurping sound and crawls up his body. She must’ve taken off her jeans before she got in bed, but she’s still wearing her shirt and underwear, and Dean’s pretty sure he hears something rip as he wrestles with the fabric. If the harsh way she’s panting is any indication, she doesn’t care either. 

“I’m sorry,” she says fiercely. 

“Missed you,” he whispers. His voice sounds broken, pathetic, but it doesn’t matter; she’s here, warm and soft in his arms as they fumble in the darkness. 

She’s finally naked, straddling him, and Dean reaches for her blindly, pulling her down for a kiss that’s more of a clash of teeth when they both misjudge the angle. Dean wraps an arm around her lower back and crushes her to his body, fisting the other hand in her hair, holding on for dear life as they exchange deep, bruising, biting kisses. She clings right back, fingers stroking his jaw and his neck like she’s trying to read the Braille of his skin and bones. 

Dean’s breathless by the time she breaks the kiss to wriggle back and line up. His eyes have adjusted enough that he can see the faint silhouette of her body, charcoal against jet-black, but the important thing is the way she feels, like solid ground or safe harbor in a storm. 

He thrusts up helplessly, stuttering out a nonsense string of vowel sounds as she takes him in all at once, slick and welcoming. Dean’s spine bows with the way it drags pleasure from every part of his body, wrenching and twisting through him, winding him tight. She leans in and rests her forehead against his, so close they’re breathing the same air. Dean digs his fingers into her hips and feels the way she flutters around him, smooth silky wet skin, living heat, pulsing like a heartbeat as his body answers with its own heavy thud of arousal.  

“You came home,” he chokes out. 

“Of course I did,” she says. 

She rocks her hips and Dean surges up to meet her, grinding in deep, pulling her down against him. He’s closer to her than he’s ever been to another person, and it’s never close enough. 

Home. 

*

Dean considers himself a giver, when it comes to sex. 

It’s always been a point of pride: no matter how casual it was, no matter how easy it was to walk out the door afterward, he put his partner first. Not like it was a fucking chore, anyway. He’s heard stories, heard the way women talked about other men, and it genuinely confuses him sometimes; those men have no idea what they’re missing. 

It’s not often, in his line of work, that he gets to make people just feel good. He hasn’t brought anything positive into the lives of most people he’s met; he’s brought danger, and bloodshed, and nightmarish fucking violence. Those rare moments when Dean can bring someone pleasure, instead, have always felt like a gift. 

He remembers the first time he figured it out, the way the girl (Jenny? Jessie?) sounded when he found the right spot, the face she made, the way she twitched around his fingers, and he remembers the awed, wonder-struck glow in his chest. He remembers thinking, I did that. It was satisfying in a way that had nothing to do with his own orgasm. 

Getting off is great and all, but Dean’s never cared too much about comfort or pleasure. He takes a utilitarian approach to the basic needs of his own body, whether it’s sex, food, sleep, or whatever else. He’s always been fine with his hand, a burger, and four hours of shuteye on a crappy motel bed. He’s never asked for much more than that. 

Watching someone else enjoy themselves, though? That’s worth taking his time, doing it right, appreciating every moan and every spasm of pleasure that flickers over her features. It’s not so much about what he wants. It’s about what he has to give.  

*

Dean’s never been a morning person, but he’s starting to understand the appeal. It’s just them, in the morning, before they’ve had time to pull on the invisible armor they wear when they have to face the rest of the world. It’s a nakedness he never thought he was capable of. 

He wakes half-sprawled across her, one arm over her chest and a leg hooked over her thigh, like he was worried about her escaping from him in dreams. His face is tucked into the side of her neck. He inhales deep, immersed in the smell of her shampoo and her sweat and her skin. 

He traces the soft lines of her body, running a feather-light touch from the round of her shoulder, across her collarbone, down the center of her chest and then back up to map the curve of the underside of her breast. He rubs his thumb back and forth over her nipple, feeling the skin start to respond to his touch just as she sighs and stirs, and then he trails his fingers down to brush the inside of her thighs, down and up, one and then the other. 

It’s not like he’s trying to tease, he just can’t stop touching her. He could spend eternity running his fingers over her smooth skin, dips and curves and hollows and swells like an entire landscape under his hands. He maps it all, awed, until she’s breathless and squirming. 

In the end she just grabs his wrist and shoves it down, showing him exactly what she wants. She holds him there, cupping her hand over his, rocking up, hot and slick under their entangled fingers. 

Dean waits until she’s trembling, straining, close. 

“On your side?” he whispers, and kisses her cheek. He doesn’t pull his fingers away, just rolls with her and fits himself against her back. She arches, raises one knee, and she lets out this desperate throaty moan when he has to move his hand for a second to adjust, but then he sinks in and he can feel her shudder down to her toes. 

He’s been so focused on her that he didn’t realize how hard he is, but he’s dizzy with it, suddenly, like every drop of blood is rushing to his dick and throbbing, his nerve endings on fire with the searing slippery friction of her body opening up for his. Jesus, he’s so close it should be fucking embarrassing. 

She’s whimpering on every breath, clenching and dripping around him as she grinds into her hand. Dean reaches forward and slides his fingers under hers again, and he can feel the way she squeezes, muscles pulsing in waves of silky heat. He rolls his hips and she arches her back, biting out an anguished sound. 

They’re barely moving, rocking against each other gracelessly without the leverage for more, just a push-pull-shove-tug that builds into something powerful and unavoidable. Dean can feel it pounding through him with every shallow thrust and every little groan. He’s losing control, swamped by the sensations, barely holding on. 

Dean focuses on the way she feels under his fingers, the rhythm, pressing and circling, working her just the way she likes. 

“Not yet,” she gasps, practically writhing in his arms. “Want to feel you.” 

“So fuckin’ close, just -” 

She hisses, grabbing his wrist in a steely-strong grip like a handcuff and forcing his hand away as she snaps, “Dean, come for me.” 

He can’t help himself. It hits him immediately, sucks him under, sweeps him up and whirls him around, until all that’s left is how fucking good it feels: her sweaty skin against his, her soaked cunt squeezing him over and over again as she comes, wringing it out of him, and her fingers bruisingly tight, a bright spark of not-quite-pain around his wrist, as pleasure twists in his gut and spirals out and carries him away. 

He’s dimly aware of the way she’s shaking, the sound of her voice, but it takes a conscious effort to understand the ragged words: “So good, Dean. So fucking incredible, feeling you fall apart for me.” 

They’re both trembling. She loosens her grip on his wrist and brings his hand to her mouth, kissing the center of his palm and then every fingertip in turn. The sweat between them starts to tickle as it cools. 

She turns in his arms, pulling back to look at Dean with a sparkling smile and a curious, level gaze. He can see the gears working behind her eyes, cogs clicking into place, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what she’s seeing as she stares. Then it clears, and she’s just beaming at him, giving him the same open, tender expression he sees every morning when they wake up together. He can see it all over her face, how much she loves him. 

Dean’s not sure what he did to deserve that smile, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to earn it. 

*

He’s heard it so many times: take care of your brother.

It wasn’t just Sam, though. It was always very clear to Dean that being a man, being strong, meant protecting others. It meant making the hard choices, putting on a brave face, shouldering the weight so that others didn’t have to… no matter how he felt, no matter how hard it was sometimes, his job was to take care of the people he loved. 

He remembers smiling, hugging his mom, trying to make her smile again: It’s okay, Mom. Dad still loves you. I love you, too. 

He remembers putting a hand on his dad’s shoulder, looking into bloodshot eyes: It’s okay, Dad. I’m really glad you’re home. 

He remembers setting his jaw, holding his head high: Shoot first, ask questions later. Watch out for Sammy.  He remembers that curt, military nod he got in return: That’s my man. 

So that’s what Dean did. He protected people. When he loved someone, he did whatever it took to keep them safe. It was the foundation on which he built his entire life; it was the cornerstone of every structure, every wall, everything that held him up and held him together and kept him from falling apart. 

You’re going to be okay, Sammy. I’ve got this. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it all under control. 

Then she happened. He couldn’t keep her safe from himself. He failed. 

He tried to push her away, after. He tried to rebuild all those walls, for her sake, but she just knocked them down again. She demolished everything, right down to his crumbling foundations, and she loved him not in spite of what she saw in the wreckage, but because of it. 

Dean has always believed that he isn’t a man, isn’t strong, isn’t worth loving, if he can’t protect the people around him. She claims he’s wrong. He was skeptical, at first, but she keeps coming home to him; it’s hard to argue with that. They’re building something new together, and it feels solid. 

*

“Get your fucking moose hands off me, Sam, I’m fine,” Dean snarls. “Motherfucker, you’d think I never needed stitches before. Stop fussing.” 

Sam lets go of his arm with a huff, and Dean sits down on the bed a little harder than he meant to. 

“Welcome home,” she says flatly from the doorway. 

“Maybe you’ll have better luck with him, I give up,” Sam growls. He shoulders past her, closing the door behind himself. 

“It’s really not a big -” 

“Lie the fuck down, you moron,” she snaps, eyes blazing. “Bad enough you have to go and get yourself half-torn to pieces. If you make things even worse because you’re too fucking stubborn to deal with basic first aid, I swear to god -” 

She’s got that face on, the one that means it’s pointless to argue.  

“Okay. Okay, see? Lying down. Jesus.” 

Dean settles back against his pillows, trying to hide his wince as the movement sets off shooting pains down his side. She stands next to the bed, looking down at him, and her jaw is set as she takes in the big gash across his ribs and the swollen punctures in his shoulder, visible through the shredded, blood-stained remains of his shirts. 

“We’re gonna have to take care of that,” she says briskly, but her voice is shaking. Dean can see the fear in her eyes, and guilt twists in his ribcage. 

“I can deal with it,” he protests automatically. “It’s not a big deal, I’m fine, you don’t have to -” 

“Dean,” she interrupts. “Don’t. It’s me.” 

I’m fine, it’s not a big deal, I don’t need you. It’s the first line of defense, has been for as long as Dean can remember. In all those years, she’s the first person who really bothered to break through. She makes it look easy, too, like a tornado going through a crooked old fence. 

Dean feels off-kilter and flayed bare, suddenly. Now that he’s not bothering to keep up appearances, he just feels raw inside, like the monster clawed something deeper than his skin. 

She bustles around for a moment, gathering up bandages and antiseptic, and Dean’s throat feels too tight. He missed her. He always misses her, and now instead of letting him hold her, kiss her, touch her, she has to patch him up… and part of him is so pathetically grateful that he doesn’t have to do it himself, even though he knows that he could. He can take care of himself. He should be the one taking care of her. 

He just wants to hold her. He wants to reassure them both that he’s still breathing, that he’s home, that he’s safe. 

She comes back with scissors. She gently moves the ruined flannel aside and then snips up the front of the t-shirt, biting her lip intently and then scowling as she pulls the fabric away from his skin to reveal the livid bruises that are already blossoming across his chest. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he tries. His voice cracks on the last word, and her eyes snap up to meet his gaze. She opens her mouth to argue, pauses, frowns, then closes it again. 

She’s studying him. Dean feels a prickle of embarrassment, cheeks flushing under the weight of her stare. 

“What is it?” she asks softly. 

He wants to say, just come here, hold me. He can’t seem to force the words past his lips. 

Dean raises his less-injured shoulder in the barest suggestion of a shrug. It hurts. He rolls his eyes at himself and clenches his jaw. He can’t quite look at her. 

She watches for another second, and then she sighs, putting the scissors down on the nightstand. 

“Okay,” she whispers. “Can you sit up? At least help me get that off you.”

She slides into bed carefully, doing her best not to jostle him, and Dean sits up, gritting his teeth against the pain. She helps him ease the remains of both shirts off his shoulders and then tosses them aside. Dean settles back, fitting himself under her outstretched arm, shifting slightly onto his good side so that he can rest his cheek on her chest. He has to squeeze his eyes shut tight to ignore the way they’re burning. 

“I’m really glad you’re home,” she says, hoarse and fervent. She brings her free arm up to cup her hand to his cheek, and her thumb brushes back and forth in a soothing, mindless rhythm. 

Dean wants to apologize, wants to reassure her, wants to thank her… he fucking hates scaring her. 

He wants to promise that he’ll never scare her again, but that would be a lie. He wants to ask why she bothers, but they’ve had that conversation one too many times before; Dean’s starting to accept that there’s nothing he can do or say to convince her that she’d be better off without him. She’s stubborn that way. 

“I love you,” she says softly. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

Jesus, Dean can barely breathe. 

He wants to ask, What did I do to deserve you? He wants to ask, How do you always know? 

“Just for a minute,” he whispers. 

“As long as you want. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He’s choking on all the things he wants to say, variations on thank you and I’m sorry and I love you. 

He listens to her heartbeat, feels the rise and fall of her chest under his cheek, takes in the smell of her shampoo, and he reminds himself that he’s home. 

It’s nothing like the home he used to dream of; he lives in a bunker, no fucking picket fence in sight. He’s bleeding from a half-dozen places, and no matter what he might think in the brief stretches of peace between apocalypses, he’s never really safe. 

In this quiet moment, she could be mistaken for the soft sort of woman he used to imagine falling in love with, but she’s so much more than that. This tornado of a woman is sharp and tough and smart enough to break through every wall of bullshit he hides behind, and it’s terrifying, being exposed like that, but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It’s not what he pictured, but this is home. This is love. 

He doesn’t say anything. He has a feeling she’ll understand anyway; she always does. 

.

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Next part is here. 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a note here! 

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[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 511

Ok so this episode is like the perfect embodiment of my love/hate relationship with the books. And the show, but since the author wrote it, the books too, and her writing/plotting in general. I hated the other episode she wrote so my expectations going into this were *rull* low.

This episode was like a series of character-driven vignettes, which is what I like most about her writing (and why I bother even sticking around): random scenes here and there that I really enjoy as standalone bits. But, in true Outlander fashion, it also like ticked a lot of the boxes for stuff plot-wise that I can’t stand. Namely, yet more violence against multiple women, Marsali and Fergus getting shortchanged, Lord John crossing just over the creepy line for a sec with Jamie and the situation with Ulysses’ legal status. It didn’t check the rape box, but we may have to revisit that next week. I sure as fuck hope we don’t have to, but seeing as this show never met a rape it didn’t think was ToTaLlY nEcEsSaRy to include... *preemptive sigh*

Show-wise this very much felt like a penultimate episode and in that respect it accomplished what it was supposed to. In the overall arc of the season though, much like when considering the whole book series, a few solid standalone scenes here and there do not equal a good whole. To be in this fandom is to be an expert in eating around the moldy parts of the bread to get a few nibbles of good stuff.

Anywho, SCIENCE!JIZZ 5EVA!

Fuck yeah PB&J, and Claire is forgiven for not mastering fluff yet. But fluffernutters are also a staple in any growing kid’s diet.

Poor burned girl. It’s not her fault she vaguely resembles a walker so I spent the whole time thinking about TWD.

Omfg I got like PTSD flashbacks when I saw that dress in the title card. KILL THAT DRESS WITH FIRE!

There may not be fluffernutters, but Bree and Claire fluff and Young Ian and Jemmy fluff are good substitutes.

This kid is adorbs tho.

They’ve been really blasé about mentioning time travel in front of folks this season. First Marsali and now Young Ian. The latter will be remedied, but I’m still lowkey annoyed that Fergus and Marsali aren’t brought into the circle of trust... Esp. when there was a perfect opportunity for it later on.

I cannot with men, tbh. Seeking justice for a daughter who’s been “dishonored” by killing the dude is like the most overused trope of toxic masculinity ever. And now we’re supposed to be all like oh look how relatable the Brown guy is! Because our tropey men wanted to kill a dude like that last week! Hard pass. Also, fucking his kid wasn’t raped, she loves a guy who happens to be married, but everything was super consensual. Sooo like double gross points for you, dude.

And yes, I know it’s ThE pAsT, but I am not in the past, I am in the present, and the show is airing in the present, so thinking this sort of behavior is gross is totes ok. So the fucked up squad of randos who always jump into my notes about how they like “their men to be men” can just shove it, ok? Ok.

They’re like really not subtle with the foreshadowing this episode are they. But then again, when has subtlety ever been a thing on this show. That’s a nice still you got there, shame if anything were to happen to it...

I’m really digging the decor in this living room.

Oh hey! They finally decided to stop pretending like Young Ian was dumb and didn’t notice literally *gestures* everything about Claire.

I’m still salty they never told Jenny and Ian in S3 tbh.

Shockingly, considering who wrote it, so much of this episode is directly from the books. So I’m sure the Cult of Herself folks will be obsessed. And like yeah, some of the stuff in this episode is some of the bits I really like from the books as individual little scenes. However! I know some in the cult will use this as a reason why the show should StAy TrUe To ThE bOoKs more. And please, for the love of fuck, fight that instinct. Parts of this episode aren’t good “because they’re from the book,” they’re good because they’re emotional moments between characters, which is where both the books and the show are strongest. “Sticking with the book” on everything would make an already not great show even worse. I mean, the show ain’t great, but thank fuck they’ve streamlined the book stuff as much as they have.

Yes, I did notice the Pamela easter egg from the book. No, I’m not one who gets excited about shit like that.

Aaand here we get the problematic af bit about Ulysses and his legal status. In the book, he was offered freedom and turned it down to stay with Jocasta. Which is twelve kinds of fucked up. Here, he *is* a free man and he chooses to stay and cosplay an enslaved person so he can chill with Jocasta? FUCK THAT NOISE. That is some “benevolent slave owner” bullshit. They don’t get overt with the Ulysses and Jocasta are banging stuff from the book, which is also epically fucked up considering the power dynamic and how a fuckton of men enslaved their own fucking kids because they’d raped the mothers and children take the status of the mother. I’m glad they didn’t come right out and say that. But it’s like lowkey implied and even if it’s not supposed to be taken as canon, having a Black man be given the option to get the fuck out of there and choose to stay with someone who enslaves other Black people is like some dangerous white fanfic nonsense.

Also, thinking about the slave/master relationship dynamic today really makes me wish I saw Jeremy O. Harris’ play while it was running...

Oh yay, Bree and Roger are actually leaving. Much like the Bonnet shit, credit where credit’s due, I’m glad they’re not dragging the will they/won’t they go out for another season.

Don’t sound so butthurt that you didn’t get to murder a guy, Jamie.

Poor Young Ian. Buddy needs a hug. And more screentime for his story. Like, do we really need something else traumatic to happen to Claire when we could explore family dynamics instead? This time with Young Ian and his wife and their Mohawk family?

THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER WAYS TO HAVE DRAMA AND CONFLICT THAT CAN TAKE UP THE RUNNING TIME OF A SEASON THAT DON’T INVOLVE CONSTANTLY PUTTING THE WOMEN IN PHYSICAL DANGER.

Lol at the thought of LJG “working the land.” Like, buddy, have you seen yourself?

“No doubt there a great many things I shall miss about being here.” Don’t make it weird bro.

Yes, I know he’s like gonna miss their friendship and stuff. But he’s always been just a smidge too intense about it. And by a smidge I mean the gay guy openly in love with his straight best friend a gross trope and I don’t like it.

Ok so if we’re following the “rules” of the show that the production used to recite ad nauseam to justify why Jamie and Claire barely seemed to even like each other for a few seasons (”they’re married, we don’t need to see them fuck!” “we already know they love each other, it’s a given!”), this sex scene shouldn’t exist. Because it’s really not essential to the plot. Which just proves the “rules” are and always were bullshit excuses. And the author/writer of this episode def spouted that bullshit too, so she can also shove it.

Because this scene *should* exist and those “rules” *were* complete crap. Because Jamie and Claire are very sexual/physical people and, especially when they’re going through things, use sex to center themselves where they are and in their relationship. Bree and Roger are leaving. Jem’s leaving. They’re sad about that. But they’re also happy that they made a family and got to be together as a family and are glad to have had that chance. (And, they just like to fuck.) So of course this is a good character moment. This is the kind of shit we should be seeing instead of just a constant barrage of plot and violence. And the crew can fuck all they off with their not at all convincing talking points about “rules.”

Also this is a much better use of sex than them constantly having them fuck after a fight instead of actually working through the issue between them.

Also, fuck yeah, get it gurrrl.

SCIENCE!JIZZ! (I’m gonna need a gif of Claire’s face when Jamie’s figuring it out because that’s gonna be in heavy reaction rotation.

I just love Claire fuck yeah science Beauchamp.

It’s also another scene that does nothing to advance the plot, but is a nice respite from the constant trauma. The show has yet to find a balance between the two, which is annoying af because they’ve had five seasons to figure it out. So like whenever there is fluff, folks pounce on it like starving animals. Which some in the crew (and some fans) like to point out like “see, you all like everything now!” Or “look, why are you whining so much, we gave you this!” Or “wow you hate the show but now you like this part? Hypocrite.”

But like, no, that’s not what it means. Not giving someone water for days and then throwing them a small canteen doesn’t mean everything is hunky dory. It’s still super fucked up. So no, enjoying the fact that there are a few fluffy scenes in an episode doesn’t mean the show is good. If they made more of an effort to center the characters and spread the fluff around a bit more instead of waiting until there was like trauma fatigue and throwing in a fluffy life raft, the show as a whole would be stronger.

</rant>

Ok it’s super fucked up they hadn’t told Bree about Willie yet, but I’m glad Jamie is the one who tells her.

“And it wasn’t a matter of love between us, but it was her choice, and that’s all I’ll say about it.” BECAUSE SHE RAPED HIM. COERCION IS NOT CONSENT AND ALL THE PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL TALKING ABOUT HOW “HOT” THAT SCENE WAS ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING AND THE PRODUCTION IS DISGUSTING FOR SHOOTING A FUCKING RAPE IN THE MANNER THEY DID. AND ALSO FUCK THEM FOR HAVING IT BE A RAPE IN THE FIRST PLACE WHEN IT COULD HAVE SO FUCKING EASILY BEEN CONSENSUAL.

This show is so fucking not good.

This scene with Jamie and Brianna is super nice, but like, we saw nothing of them building their relationship. He didn’t even fucking hug her after Murtagh died. The scene loses so much of what it could have had because they never did the legwork to show us what they mean to each other.

It’s the same old shit they pulled with Claire and Jamie. “Oh they’re together and endgame so we don’t actually need to show you them building and working on their relationship that much. Because you know they’re together so just go with it.” Like no? Fuck you? That’s not how this works?

FERGUS AND MARSALI DESERVE BETTER!

Of course Marsali’s preggo again. Why the fuck should she do anything but spit out babies. Also, THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PERFECT TIME TO HAVE THE FRASER KIDS TALK ABOUT TIME TRAVEL.

And Bree’s become a sister to Marsali? We saw one fucking scene of them together. See above rant. Fucking show us them becoming sisters. Sorry to interrupt your constant stream of violence and trauma, but fucking actually SHOWING characters building relationships instead of TELLING us they did the thing is how this is fucking supposed to work.

I’m rull pissed we never got quality Fraser kid bonding, y’all.

And ditto with this scene with Lizzie. We saw more of Bree and Lizzie than Bree and Marsali, but like we never really saw them becoming friendly post Bree’s rape and Rogergate.

All the goodbyes are like making me feel inch deep feelings because they’re rooted in nothing we’ve actually seen. And I’m not a Bad Fan or dumb for not filling in the feelings myself. I’m the viewer. It’s not my job to fill in the show’s gaps. It’s the show’s job not to have emotional gaps.

Oh hey! Another shitty man who hurts his wife and another woman trapped in a physically abusive relationship who thinks the abuse is her fault! On Outlander? Who’da thunk they’d have something like this?!

I’m so tired, y’all. So. Fucking. Tired.

I HOPE YOUNG IAN FINDS HAPPINESS TOO, ROGER.

Ok but for real, every time Lord John talks about how Willie and Bree are like Jamie it has that gross tinge to it. Like I know he’s not meaning it like a creeper, but they leaned so fucking hard into him being so into and not over Jamie that the layer of grossness is always there.

Also like, grannie and grandda, we got like one scene of Claire and Jamie playing with Jem. WE COULD HAVE FELT SO MANY MORE FEELINGS ABOUT THEM BEING SEPARATED IF ONLY THEY HAD TAKEN THE TIME TO BUILD THE RELATIONSHIPS ON SCREEN.

Claire making everyone PB&Js is fucking adorable and I love her.

Old timey forks will never not be fucking weird looking.

“And now it’s just you and me again.” Uh, Fergus, Marsali and Young Ian might be a tad offended by that sentiment, Clairebear.

Ok but like do they really think a rope is gonna hold up to fucking magic time travel rocks? It’s gotta just be like a mental security blanket thing, right? Because if not, loooooooooool.

Ok but the really just let their kiddo run off like that in the middle of the magic time travel rock circle? Dumbasses.

Ok but like what’s the betting they ended up in like a RenFest type thing and think they haven’t traveled but they have and it’s like lol look at them fitting in with their old timey clothes vs. skipping them going back to the future and doing the going adventuring around the even past-er past part but with them all together instead of Roger and Buck?

I’m just hoping it’s something completely different than the books because I have zero interest in Bree and Roger in the 20th century and hate the Roger and Buck nonsense with a fiery passion.

Erm, that’s a little close to the house to build a privy, my dudes.

Is the setting a guy’s dislocated shoulder thing supposed to be a cute callback? Because like hey wink wink, first she was kidnapped and then set a shoulder and now she’s setting a shoulder and then getting kidnapped is kind of a fucked up “joke.”

But how about we get more of Nurse!Marsali and less of Marsali just being constantly preggo.

“Sort of like the opposite of what you do when ya joint a hog.” I JUST LOVE NURSE!MARSALI A LOT OK.

Aaand now that we’re all good and docile little fans who have been placated with some fluff and Fraser fucking as a treat, we can go back to the regularly scheduled violence against women. Because we literally just had a violent abduction last week. So clearly it’s time for another.

Everything in this story has been done before...

I swear to fuck, if they do the thing I think they’re gonna do next week, I hope they get rightfully dragged by fucking everyone.

And if by some fucking miracle of Caitriona putting her foot down they don’t do the thing next week, they get zero brownie points. You don’t get rewarded for doing what you should have done the whole time.

And of course the closing is Jamie lighting Flaming Dildo 2.0. His men swore oaths to him, not any government or crown, and protecting his family has always been the top thing for Jamie. So good choice there with saving Claire being the reason he calls up the men.

[writeyourownlifestory]

L-I-G-H-T-S U-P

Chapters: 2/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife​ Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

Chapter one can be found here

So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek

I get a little lonely Get a little more close to me You're the only one who knows me, babe So hot, you're hurtin' my feelings (woo) Can't deal

Richie had very little idea what he was supposed to be doing.

Okay, correction, he had a decent idea. It was a simple interview. Ask a couple of questions, hopefully, get a couple of answers. It wasn’t being filmed nor were they doing something dumb to pass the time. Just a simple sit down with a punk rock legend in the making.

Richie had written down almost a hundred questions, half of which he wanted to scrape because they just seemed so generic and boring. This might have been just a stereotypical interview but the person of interest was anything but typical.

Dr. K had changed things for the better in the music industry. He didn’t stick to social norms, but he also didn’t jam his uniqueness down your throat. If you wanted to see him, you would see him. If you didn’t want to pay him any mind, that was fine too. Dr. K had said on more than one occasion that he wasn’t there to entertain the small minds of the world. The people who would see him would see him and those who heard him would listen.

Richie listened very clearly. Almost nightly. He wasn’t lying when he told Bill he had seen them sixteen times in the past eight years. From small dingy bars deep in the city to the biggest venues the state had to offer. Richie had been there for it all, cheering on this amazing band and buying up their merch to boot.

Richie thought about wearing one of their shirts, but he didn’t want to come on too strong. He stuck with his regular business attire, making sure that nothing was too wrinkled or had a strange mess to it.

He thought about doing something with his hair until he finally snapped himself out of this little fantasy he had going on inside his head. This wasn’t a blind date; wasn’t some matchmaking at the hands of Bill. This was a serious business and Richie had to take it seriously.

Richie was gangly, with wavy hair and thick glasses. Sure, some guys found him to be cute, but he gave credit to his charming personality. He put on a mask to get by but in reality, he was just a lonely guy who didn’t know where he belonged.

So when the day came, he told himself just to relax because nothing would come from this. There wasn’t going to be a magical spark between the two. He wasn’t going to let go of his career and start touring with Dr. K as his personal assistant slash roadie slash groupie.

He was just a guy interviewing for his place of work and Richie reminded himself that repeatedly as he arrived at the location Bill gave him. Red Balloon records were serious business that only took on the best of the best. Richie gave his name and flashed the pass that he always kept on him from Paper Boats just to show he was legit.

He was sent up automatically and was practically buzzing in the elevator up. When he arrived at the top, a red-headed woman greeted him, offering a polite smile as they walked through the hall. She was dressed smartly in a suit of her own, high up against her neck and tight at the waist. She offered a quick handshake before they got moving.

“Beverly Marsh. You’re a little early, but that’s all right. K likes punctual people.” She revealed.

“Figured it would be better to be early than late.”

“Better late than never as they say,” Beverly commented with a knowing smile. “I hope you have something good to ask him.”

“Way to put the pressure on,” Richie muttered, following close behind her. “I tried to choose questions he hadn’t already been asked before, but there are only so many non-generic questions out there. I’m sure he’ll be asked the same bullshit by the other magazines.”

“Dr. K isn’t doing any other magazine interviews. He’s agreed to only speak to a Paper Boat representative. You, specifically.”

“What? You’re kidding.” It wasn’t unheard of for a celeb to only speak to one news outlet, but for him to choose to only speak to PB when he had so much to release seemed a bit out there. Richie wondered if Bill had worked his magic on Dr. K’s people and convinced them to sell the story to Paper Boat and only Paper Boat.

“You’ll be the only so I certainly hope you make it worth his while.”

“No pressure there,” Richie muttered, adjusting his glasses nervously.

“Don’t be worried. Dr. K is very easy going. Just don’t make this into a big deal.”

Richie snorted, giving the redhead a quick side look. “Right. Speaking to a premature rock God. It's no big deal.”

Beverly chuckled, stopping outside one of the doors. “He isn’t a God. He’s just a guy with a lot of talent.”

“Here I thought the lead singer of a punk rock band would want to surround himself with people who stroke his ego.”

Beverly shrugged, reaching for the doorknob. “He’s not the lead singer of a band anymore. And K doesn’t surround himself with anybody he doesn’t want around. Constantly hearing how wonderful you are can be pretty boring, don’t you think?” Opening the door, Beverly gesturing inside. “He’ll be with you in just a moment.”

The room was empty but set up comfortably. There was a small bar with drinks and a table of snacks set up. Caramel popcorn and peanut M&Ms filled up the bowls. Richie grabbed a couple of candies, tossing them in the air and catching them. He walked around, admiring the room. It had that vintage rock and roll vibe to it. Vinyl along the brick walls and posters of all the bands the record label signed over the year.

Sitting in a cooler were glass soda bottles and Richie lifted one, searching for a bottle opener only to come up empty. Shrugging, he brought the bottle to his mouth, hoping to open it with his teeth the way he used to in college, but that proved futile. He was older and his teeth weren’t as strong as they used to be.

“It’s a twist-off,” A voice from behind him said.

Richie turned and the bottle nearly slipped through his fingers as his eyes settled on the new person in the room.

It was him, his morning glory.

Dr. K.

He looked exactly like Richie hoped he would. Utterly gorgeous.

He wasn’t dolled up in eyeliner or hair gel the way he would if he was on stage or dressed in the best designers for a photoshoot, but he still looked too good to be true. Dark jeans with a dark jacket, a Ramones tee shirt hugging his toned body. His skin was pale, showing off every mark and freckle he had to offer.

His hair was shorter now; another shock vibing out through the music world. First Trashmouth loses their lead and then the lead loses his hair. Richie didn’t mind it though. The shorter cut framed Dr. K’s face ever so perfectly.

He was absolutely gorgeous and Richie felt like he was a six-foot tall garbage can on fire just standing in the same room with him.

Richie watched as Dr. K came forward, going to grab a bottle out of the cooler. He twisted it open with ease, offering it to Richie to switch out with the unopened one he was holding. Richie took it, still not saying a word as he watched the other man open a second bottle for himself and begin to drink it.

“What? Disappointed it’s not beer?” Dr. K asked him curiously.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Richie mentioned.

Dr. K shrugged off, sipping slowly at his drink. “As they say: it’s five o’clock somewhere.” He mentioned, taking another swig of the soda bottle. “So. You’re him, huh?” He asked, looking him up and down slowly.

A tickle of nerves ran along Richie’s back and after nearly spitting out his sip, he placed the bottle down beside him. “Yes. Hi. Richard Tozier; representative of Paper Boat magazine.” He stuck his hand out, offering a shake.

He wanted to be professional, but he wondered if that came off lame. Lame was the last thing he wanted because anything that wasn’t punk or rock and roll was incredibly lame.

And Richie was very sure if he looked lame in front of Dr. K he would throw himself in front of a moving train.

Luckily for him, Dr. K didn’t seem to mind. He offered a polite smile and reached out to shake his hand. His shake was tight and simple, though Dr. K did linger a bit longer than expected.

“So, shall the interview begin?” He offered, gesturing over to the couch across the way.

Richie scrambled to take his seat, wanting to make room for everything that was begging to come out of his mouth.

“First I just want to say thank you for allowing us to do this. I know you aren’t a very public person so to be able to do a one on one with you is truly an honor.”

“People are hungry. Might as well feed them.” Dr. K replied slowly.

“Right. Okay. So a solo album. Why now?”

“Why not now?”

“Right, okay. Great answer.” Richie cliched his pen and began writing that down. “So the album. Do you have a title for it yet?”

“We have a few things bouncing around but nothing has been decided yet.”

“And it’s all original work that you’ve written on your own?”

“Oh, the contrary; my first big solo album will be a complete list of some of my favorite songs already in creation.”

Richie pauses, looking up. “So a cover album?” He questioned, pushing his glasses up. “Why? I only ask because you’re an amazing songwriter! Surely you can make a whole album up on your own.”

“Your flattery is charming. And I have many ideas for songs but there are already so many songs out there and I want to lend my own voice and specific style to them.” Dr. K paused, smiling then. “And don’t call me Shirley.”

“Dr. K gets off with a zinger! Impressive.” Richie scribbled everything down, leaning back in the chair as he grew more comfortable. “Okay so. Cover album. Do I get to know any of the songs?”

“It will be between fifteen and twenty. We’re still narrowing it down.”

“That’s quite a lot. Any particular reason?”

“I’m greedy.” Dr. K shrugged, sipping slowly at his bottle.

Richie focused his eyes on the pad in his hands instead of on the bottle that Dr. K had his mouth wrapped around.

“I will say each song has been chosen by me personally. Little ditties that touched me in one way or another during my life; going all the way back to my childhood to now.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“I do, though I can’t say without revealing anything.”

“What about in general?” Richie inquires. “Come on. Even a rockstar has to have a favorite song.”

Eddie smiled softly, almost dismissively. Richie thought he was going to ignore the question or request a skip, but instead, Richie would himself getting the answer.

“Clock strikes upon the hour and the sun begins to fade. Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away. I've done alright up to now, it's the light of day that shows me how. And when the night falls, loneliness calls….”

Richie blinked, his mind desperately trying to get past the fact that Dr. K just sang to him to recognize the song.

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody?” He asked aloud, his eyes squinting behind his glasses. “Your favorite song is by Whitney Houston?”

“Are you not a fan?”

“What? No, it’s not that! Whitney was iconic. Rest In Peace Queen, but I just meant. It’s surprising! Especially for somebody with your record.”

“Even rockstars can have a soft spot for a good pop song,” Eddie told him with a small smile.

Richie, having found himself staring, scrambling to write everything down. He paused, collecting his thoughts so he could wrap this up. He didn’t want to leave yet but he didn’t want to take up any more of Dr. K’s time.

“Why now?” He asked suddenly. “Why go solo now?”

“My bandmates have lives of their own. Wives. Children. I have neither. Besides, I lived my life doing what people expected of me. Thought I’d have fun and throw a wrench in their plan for me.”

A knock on the door came. After a few seconds, Beverly opened, sticking her fiery redhead inside. “K, I’m sorry to interrupt but Stanley is on the phone. Legal mumbo-jumbo.”

“Duty calls.” Dr. K sighed, standing slowly from the couch. Realizing the interview was cover, Richie stood as well, shoving everything back into his bag. Dr. K didn’t move right away. He stood in front of Richie, that same damn smile across his lips.

“Thank you. Really. Having this chance had been a total career changer.” He mentioned to him, pausing just before they could separate.

Richie always took his job seriously but come on, how detailed could you get about something when the story you were writing was on giant chocolate chip cookies or watching celebs balance pies on their heads? This was the first legitimate of Richie’s career and he was incredibly grateful for the chance.

“Do you think I could bother you for a picture? I know it’s super unprofessional, but you’re like my idol.”

Dr. K laughed then. Not mockingly, but rather with surprise. There was a glimmer in his eyes Richie couldn’t recognize, though he didn’t get the chance to question it as Dr. K came to his side in moments.

Richie scrambled to grab his phone, holding it out so he could capture both of them. They smiled wide, standing beside one another closely as the picture was taken. Richie was definitely going to make that his lock screen the moment he got home.

He offered his hand, one final shake and Dr. K took it without question. “It was nice to see you again, Richie.” He said, giving the hand one last squeeze before Beverly ushered him out.

Richie stood there, offering a lame wave as he was left alone in the room. A solid minute passed before Dr. K’s words repeated in his head.

Nice to see you again? What the fuck?

[harris-coopers]

Cole Sprouse talks Five Feet Apart, singing on-screen and Riverdale season 4

PopBuzz: One thing that surprised me about the film was how it’s so heartbreaking and yet so hopeful at the same time. It felt so different to other films that fit in the same genre. Was that something you guys wanted to make sure you got across? To show the light?

Cole Sprouse: Yeah I mean, first off, I think Justin's mission statement, our director, was always one of hope and the job for Haley and I was to try and shave off the natural romanticising that takes place within that genre into something that felt a little more grounded and honest for the characters. But the interpretive ending allowed us to have the audience sort of decide what they felt happened to the characters. I think Justin was in the mind that if you're gonna do a movie that hopefully is going to be viewed by the cystic fibrosis community, then the message we wanna give to them is one of hope, not necessarily one that felt on the darker side of that narrative.

PB: This is the first movie you’ve done in a long time. What was it about this film, and the role of Will in particular, that drew you back in?

CS: Well, I was pretty hesitant at first. And I think that's because this genre has the potential to do a lot of damage if it's sort of represented incorrectly. At the end of the day, it was really after I met with Justin and finding out how passionate he was about the cystic fibrosis community and the mission statement being one of hope that that kind of put all my trepidations to rest. In terms of career trajectory? To be honest, I've had that question a lot and I wish I'd been thinking about it. I wanted to work during the hiatus on Riverdale and this lined up perfectly with it. It just seemed like a good move at the time.

PB: I know you’ve spoken about the immense responsibility of telling the story of such a heavily underrepresented community, how much preparation did you undergo for the role? I know you said that physically it was a challenge for you as well.

CS: Yeah, we had the luxury of about a month and a half of prep and research, alongside the advice of actual patients with cystic fibrosis and medical professionals. With their advice, I had a physical regimen to get me into the kind of shape or image of a cystic fibrosis patient. And then of course they gave us a lot of time to understand the psychology of grappling with your mortality at a very young age and how that effects social foundation and relationship building.

PB: The reaction to the film on social media has been incredible so far. Has anyone from the community reached out to you about it yet? And what did they say?

CS: We got a lot of really really positive feedback from the CF community, it's very validating. Ultimately, you know, they're why we made the movie so their acceptance is the currency of the success in my opinion and I think that's been really reassuring. Before the movie had come out, there was a lot of fear that it would misrepresent the community or would do damage to the representation through the sheer notion of romance or encourage a dangerous sort of connection. But the community has been really really responsive to the representation that we have. Yeah, so really reassuring.

PB: That's amazing to hear. The film has such an incredible cast with Haley - who is brilliant - and of course, your little Disney Channel reunion with Moises Arias. How was it working with the two of them? You guys seemed to have such a great dynamic on-screen.

CS: Yeah, I think Haley and I kind of had the same idea of how we wanted to play the characters, which was way more grounded in realism than what could have been the kind of overacting that often comes within that genre. And we got along really well! It's one of those things were you roll the dice, you can have chemistry and you can try to do as much as possible, but you don't really know how the work environment is going to be alongside your co-stars until you're there. And we were lucky enough to have gotten a good roll on the dice and really get along quite well! Haley's talented, she's also a very giving actress - and I act in a very similar way. So, we both cared a lot. Considering the kind of content we were grappling with, we were able to validate one another.

PB: Well, speaking about the emotional heaviness of the script and the subject, how did you guys combat that on set? I just saw that you and Haley went on a strip club tour... which is amazing.

CS: We did!

PB: How else did you keep your spirits up?

CS: To be quite honest, when we were on set, there was a responsibility and an emotional continuity that we needed to keep in order to stay in it. And I'm of the mind that it's better not to take from that. Toward the end of production, we were able to loosen up a little bit after the more emotional scenes had taken place and we had finished those and moved onto the last week of the production cycle. We were able to let go a little bit. In terms of levity, we really didn't allow ourselves to fall into too much levity. To be honest, it felt kind of inappropriate to detach from that. But New Orleans is an incredibly vibrant and wonderful city with wonderful food and great drinking. A really great nightlife! And more bachelor and bachelorette parties than I have ever seen in my life.

PB: I bet!

CS: So it was fun to kind of get lost in that crowd.

PB: One of my favourite parts of the film is the scene where Will sings to Stella and it’s so great that I get to talk to you now because of course, in the musical episode of Riverdale,you sing! And it's incredible!

CS: Thanks!

PB: Previously, you said that it would take a lot for someone to get you to sing and now you’ve sung twice. What made you finally say, “yeah, I’m gonna do it”?

CS: To be honest, I think I was mis-quoted the first time I said that. What I actually said when I said I wouldn't sing is that, Disney Channel was asking me and my brother to drop an album for very many years. And that's what we didn't wanna do. I mean, I've sung on The Suite Life, I've sung on a couple other projects and you know, when it's in character, it's not a problem for me. When it's 'Cole Sprouse singing,' it becomes very strange and vulnerable. It's just a matter of making sense for the character in the moment. For Will, it was a matter of comforting Stella in the same way that she had been comforted and trying to bring a little joy to something incredibly frightening - like surgery. And for Jughead, it was a moment of incredible vulnerability and really a tragedy that kind of fit perfectly to the narrative.

PB: Yeah. Like you just said, it depends on the character but let’s say Jughead decided to let it all go for a night and get involved with karaoke at La Bonne Nuit... What’s the one song you do think he would get up and sing?

CS: Oh, man... you know that angsty emo kid would sing some Avenged Sevenfold or Panic! At The Disco. Something incredibly emo.

PB: Maybe a slam poetry version?!

CS: Oh, of course! He'd be the guy in like, the top hat and all the bracelets looking like an amateur musician doing slam poetry.

PB: Love it! So what's happening next for you? Hiatus is coming up, you're still working on Riverdale now, you've got your photography, anything else lined up? Any other acting gigs?

CS: Yeah! I have one little project that I can't speak too much about lined up for the hiatus. I'd like to manoeuvre my way through the film thing where I'd like to do at least one film a year and it be of a more artistic calibre than a kind of commercial one. I've done Five Feet Apart and it was a commercial project, Riverdale is such a mainstream project that I'd like to live within the independent life for a bit. And then, a lot of photography! Honestly, I haven't stopped working for the last 3 years. So in the event I just sit on the couch for the whole time, I think that would be a welcome relaxation at this point.

PB: Absolutely! My last question, I hope you don’t mind, it’s about Riverdale…

CS: Sure!

PB: We’re winding down toward the end of season 3, there's been some huge shockwaves being sent through Jughead’s home life with his mum right now. Where do you want to see Jughead’s story go in season 4? Because he's changed so much. What do you think is ahead for him?

CS: I think when Riverdale is at its strongest it's about the characters, their dynamics, their personal narratives and their relationships with one another. And I think Jughead asking himself how his family has affected him is what I'd kind of like to see. But I also think I'd love to see a Jughead that feels kind of like a season one Jughead, which is much more of a quiet sort of monologue side. I think there's a lot of potential and a lot of interesting narratives this season in the form of FP and Jughead teaming up and playing the True Detective crime investigator father/son duo. I think there's something really enjoyable about Jughead being the brain and FP being the brawn of that investigation. That's something I'd personally like to see going into season 4.

PB: And I mean, seeing as you’re finally showing off those vocals how about a lead in the next musical episode?

CS: Ha! Oh man, I'm not trying to trying to grease any wheels on that - if it makes sense for the character, it makes sense for the character. But I could spent the rest of my life not singing on screen and being totally content with that.

PB: You were fantastic in the musical episode!

CS: Oh, I appreciate that.

PB: It really was a lovely moment between Betty and Jughead, and so nice to watch.

CS: Yeah, I think that's a really pretty scene and I'm glad it turned out that way.

Source: Popbuzz

[tastelikesleepdeprivation]

Domestic Human!Jack Headcanons featuring his three dads:

-Sam : no dessert after dinner, it will rot your teeth and we don’t have dental insurance because, legally, Dean and I are dead and Cas isn’t human so he can’t have insurance

-Cas: *sneaks Jack a cookie under the table during dinner, winks*

-Jack, with tears in his eyes, “thank,,”

Jack sneaking back into the bunker:

-Cas sitting in a chair and turns the lamp on: “where have you been?”

-Jack: “uhh with Dean”

-Dean, sitting in a chair next to Cas, turning on another lamp: “wanna try that again”

-Jack: “uhh with,, Sam?”

-Sam, in another chair next to Dean, turning on another lmap: “wanna try that AGAIN?”

-Jack likes it best when Dean cooks cause Cas can’t taste anything but “particles” so it’s always bland and Sam just can’t cook but Dean makes the best burgers Jack has ever tasted

-Jack sometimes has nightmares about Lucifer but if it’s a really bad one it’s about Dean, Cas, and Sam dying while Jack is standing by, unable to do anything cause he doesn’t have his powers and he wakes up panting and in a cold sweat with Cas right by his side because Cas doesn’t need sleep and will always be there to make sure to wake up Jack and comfort him during his night terrors

-Sam introduces Jack to books and tears up when Jack gets super excited about them because finally someone else who reads (not countering the literal one book Dean has read) and his favorite thing is sitting by Jacks bed side while reading The Wizard of Oz cause Sam told Jack all about their badass friend Charlie and her girlfriend Dorothy who saved all of them and Jack loves hearing about this apparently very real magical world

-Jack is actually really observant for his young age so when he sees Dean shuffling into the kitchen, scratching at his two week old beard with bags under his red rimmed eyes from fitful rest he announces a vacation day which Dean originally objects to but when Jack gets Cas and Sam on board he caves and so Dean hops in Baby with Sam to his right, Jack behind him and Cas behind Sam and they just drive. Dean puts on some classic Rock and Roll to “culture the kid right, Sammy” and they stop at some greasy diner and Dean laughs over his burger while Sam grumbles into his salad, Cas flashes his gummy smile and Jack hides his grin behind his drink and looks at his family and just living in the happiness he helped create and is a part of

-Dean got to be a father twice before technically but it never really felt like this. Never really felt like anything with Emma and while he got to be with Ben for a couple months it never felt permant, not like this, not like with Jack. So Dean cherishes every small moment he gets to teach and pass on something to Jack, whether it be through how to rile up Sam with a quick joke, or how to correctly wash and fold Cas’ trench coat, or do some work on Baby. Teach him something that doesn’t involve killing or hunting. Something normal, something a normal father would pass onto his son

-One of Jacks favorite occurrences between jobs is when Dean would cook all of them dinner and he would be wearing the apron Sam got for him as a joke (but secretly loves) and Dean would put on some music and would loudly sing along, shouting the lyrics while wildly waving the spatula in the air.

-Sometimes, Jack would pretend to be asleep when he would hear footsteps outside his door because he knew that Cas always comes and checks on him after he goes to bed. Cas carefully cracks open the door, and while Jack pretends to be asleep, Cas will put a gentle hand in his hair and place a chaste kiss on his forehead and Jack would wait until Cas pulls the door closed to smile into his covers

-Shopping with Sam was Jacks favorite. Sam usually did the shopping because Cas would forget the human stuff like tooth paste and toilet paper and Dean would buy pie instead of vegetables because he “forgot ‘em, sorry Sammy” so Sam always did the grocery shopping and would let Jack tag along, letting him get ONE candy (he always got nougat)

-Watching marathons with Dean is one of Jacks favorite passtimes because while Dean was a closeted chick flick watcher, Jack was an out and proud chick flick fanatic so both boys would sneak away for a night every so often when a new movie finally came out on Netflix

-One of Jacks favorite memories was when everyone went grocery shopping together when Jack was first turned human to find out what kind of foods he liked so he could have it available at the bunker, Dean grabbed the chips and junk food for him to try while Sam grabbed the fruits and vegetables, Cas gave his opinion now and then about what he rememberd from when he was human, especially his like of pb&js.

-Jack would go through bouts of insomnia to keep away the nightmares and this was the beginning of his midnight trips to the kitchen for snacks where he was joined sometimes by Sam but mostly Castiel which he preferred cause they would stay up late talking about the beginning of the universe and the thousands of years Cas has lived and what he has seen.

-When he turns One on May 18th, Dean, Sam, and Castiel decide to throw him a party, in their own way of course. Dean bakes the cake which is chocolate and has writing in icing on the top which says “baby’s first birthday” and they have streamers from toilet paper and first-aid gauze hung up all over the bunker. Sam gets him a new flannel so that he “can officially become part of the team” and a new book called The Great Gatsby which he can’t wait to start. Cas gets him a mixtape he made from all the songs he noticed Jack bobbing his head to when Dean would blast the radio. And Dean. Dean gets him a necklace. Not like the one Dean had, he told Jack all about the one Sam gave to him. But a necklace just for him that had the angels symbol for protection hand carved into the wood

-Sam is the first one to call Jack son to his face. Sam had just finished the last chapter of The Great Gatsby and Jack was crying because he thought that Gatsby didn’t deserve that kind of end to his life. Sam had closed the book, set it on the bedside table, wiped the tears from Jacks face, kissed him on the forehead and said “ it’s alright son, his story isn’t over, just moved to a new place”

-Cas first called him son on the night of one of Jacks worst night terrors. Jack heard screaming and woke up in a cold sweat to Cas at his side holding him close and whispering “I’m here, Jack, I’m here son, it was only a dream, I’m here” in his ear. Only until the screaming in his ears stopped did he realize it was coming from him and it wasn’t until he had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder from exhaustion and woken up the next morning to feel Cas still running his fingers through his hair did he notice that Cas called him son

-Sam and Cas had called Jack son early on and while Dean knew in his head and in his heart that Jack was his son he couldn’t say it to him. Experience and pain had taught him that once he said it, it would be real and so would the pain he will feel if, when, Jack gets hurt or killed. So he avoided it, calling him kid, kiddo, sport, and every other dumb nickname under the sun but still not that word until one hunt. It was supposed to be a normal job (famous last words, Winchester) until it went sideways and the werewolf got a claw into and up Jacks stomach. Only when Dean had shot the bastard in the chest until his gun was clicking empty did Dean fall to his knees next to Jack, holding his hands over the kids wound shouting at Sam to “hurry up and get the damn car!” Only when he looked at Jacks closed eyes and the shallow rise and fall of his chest and sees his pale face did he whisper for only Jacks ears “come on son, hold on. You gotta stay with me Jack, you gotta wake up son, you gotta wake up, you have to wake up”

-When Jacks hair starts curling around his ears does Sam decide to give him a haircut. Well, it was Sam at first until Dean grabbed the scissors and hip checked his brother out of the way saying “with your mane, I’m surprised you even noticed Jacks hair getting long. Move over, Sammy, I cut your hair for twelve years I’ll cut the kids hair”

-it’s Fourth of July and Dean insists on taking Jack to see the fireworks. One of Deans best memories is of him and Sammy shooting them off in some abandoned parking lot decades ago so he thought that he could give Jack a memory just as precious. Sam packs a picnic with some snacks and Castiel stuffs the impala with blankets. They drive out to the nearest town and set up shop in front of a closed grocery store across from the park where the towns show was set up to go off. Castiel hadn’t seen fireworks up close before so he was also excited. Jack was practically bouncing in his seat asking “ are they really made from fire?? How do they work??” And Sam and Dean would laugh and tell him they were really loud and colorful. When the fireworks officially started, Jack was terrified. It was so loud and he could feel the reverberations in his chest, they would come in no random order so he was suprised by the POPS. But after a while he was soon enraptured by the colors. Cas was just as enchanted by the way they would appear one moment and be gone the next. Jack and Cas loved the show so much they asked when the next one was and both were just as confused when Sam and Dean just laughed saying not until New Years

-Since they can’t exactly call a cleaning service to come and mop their underground bunker filled with weapons and proof of the supernatural, Sam established a chores list. Some chores depended on the day, like if Dean cooked he didn’t have to do the dishes but every person was given a chore, no matter what. Dean always grumbled but everyone knew he preferred a clean bunker. Cas would simply nod and go about his work, sometimes humming whilst doing so. Jack was just glad he had something to do that was of use to his family. And ironically, Sam was the one who forgot to do his chores most often

-whenever Jack manages to join the older three men on a hunt he always gets stuck in the back seat of the impala. Dean always drives, Sam always gets shotgun, Cas always sits behind Sam and Jack sits behind Dean. He doesn’t mind that much because on the truly long rides, the cross country rides, Cas lets him put his feet in his lap so he can lean against the door or sometimes he puts his head in Cas’ lap while Cas runs his fingers through his hair, falling asleep to the sound of the impalas engine rumbling, the quiet humming of the radio, and the muffled rapping of Deans thumbs on the steering wheel.

-Now that Jack is fully human, his body starts being fully human too which involves shaving. Sam pointed out his stubble first and offered to pick up razors and shaving cream next time he went to the store. Jacks first attempt at shaving began and ended quickly as he had no idea what to do, so he went to Cas. Cas,, tried. Being an angel and his vessel remaining the same he had no reason to shave (besides the one time after purgatory which still doesn’t make any sense) but he doesn’t know how to manually shave, just, angel shave. And that’s how Dean finds them later, in the bathroom both with their faces covered in shaving cream and staring at the razor like it would come alive and attack them. Dean chuckled but refrained from making a joke and helped to teach both boy and angel how to shave.

-Cas’ signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks shoulder. He’ll just hold his hand there on Jacks shoulder for a couple seconds longer than necessary, pat twice and then walk away. Sams signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks head or the back of his neck. Most of the time it’s a solid weight, a comforting weight but sometimes it will be a playful weight, a ‘you did something good and this is how I show it’ weight. Deans signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks back, right inbetween his shoulder blades. Most of the time it’s more of a slap than a pat but when it really counts, when Jack yearns for a physical sign of a reassurance, Dean always seems to know and just holds his hand steady

[tmarie82]

Private Party

Pairing: Dr. Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Blake Reyes)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: ~4,100

Rating: NSFW

Disclaimer: The storyline and dialogue from the first ⅔ of this story is completely the work of Pixelberry’s Open Heart chapter 6, with my own artistic embellishments. Also, I refused to pay diamonds for that piece of red sequined fabric that PB tried to pawn off as a “shirt” in the chapter, so I’ve classed up Blake’s outfit a bit for the story.

Author’s Note: I was floored by how good Bryce’s first diamond scene was last week. Even with the fade-to-black that left some to the imagination, it was still incredibly HOT and perfectly Bryce. This is my adaptation of the housewarming party (and private party in Blake’s room) from Bryce’s perspective. This can and does fit into the timeline of my other Bryce x Blake stories, or it can be read as a stand-alone based on pure canon.

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list. You can find all of my fics in my Masterlist on my homepage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bryce Lahela had always enjoyed a good party. Starting with the high school ragers he’d attended when his friends’ parents were away and then the college keg parties that would inevitably end with the cops at the door, he had developed a reputation for being quite the party boy. Yet somehow tonight at this particular party, he found himself unexcited at the prospect of free beer and drinking games. Instead he found himself anxiously awaiting the arrival of one person in particular.

Perched atop the arm of the large L-shaped sofa, Bryce tipped his head back to swallow another mouthful of his chilly IPA. He’d brought the six-pack as a housewarming gift of sorts, a casual gesture since he knew Blake loved to try new craft brews, however the beverages had proven quite handy after thirty minutes at the party without a keg. But the bad news was, since he already had a backup in the beer department, that meant there was still no sign of Blake …

He was currently chatting with Elijah and Landry, trying his best to make a good impression on Blake’s two male roommates. While he still wasn’t exactly sure where this thing with Blake was going, deep down he was hoping to see whole lot more of her in the future and he knew maintaining a good rapport with the roommates would be beneficial to everyone down the road. The two other guys were recounting the events from their expedition to the Nighthawks baseball game the other day, and surprisingly Bryce found himself rolling at Elijah’s recap of Landry’s first baseball experience.

The laughter rumbled from his chest, his head thrown back before he responded to the tale. “It sounds like you guys did it right! I’d love to go to a game sometime if you are up to it.” Bryce lifted his bottle to his lips again, taking a small swig before he noticed a slim figure lugging a large metal barrel awkwardly through the front door.

“Yeah, that would be great!” Bryce could hear Landry talking in front of him, although his attention was admittedly focused elsewhere. He couldn’t help the warm grin that spread across his face as he examined Blake, her dark hair looking disheveled in a knot atop her head and her face knitted as she struggled to get the bulky keg further inside. “And I know Blake wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.”

The mention of her name brought Bryce back to the moment, his eyes looking back to the two other men to find them watching him with knowing looks. “I’d really love that. Let me know next time you guys go.” He chugged the rest of his beer down, setting it down on the table before averting his gaze back to Blake. “But if you’ll excuse me, it appears that I am needed elsewhere …” He heard the soft chuckling from the two other men as he walked away, but his mind had already moved on.

Blake had finally made it past the front door and about six feet into the entryway tugging the keg by one handle behind her. Bryce swooped in swiftly and gripped the other handle with one hand, lifting it effortlessly off the ground. “Lemme help with that.” Blake startled at the sudden assistance and turned to him, her eyes blank for a brief second until they glistened with a genuine warmth upon recognition. Bryce nodded a hello at her, following behind her with keg in hand as they now smoothly made their way to deposit it in the kitchen. As they set it down, he finally voiced his confession. “I was wondering where you were.”

Blake flashed him a smug grin, obviously pleased to hear that he had been looking for her. “At the hospital, getting puked on. Again.”

He laughed out loud, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he replied. “I love when you talk dirty.”

He saw her eyes widen at his playful innuendo, then her face set in a satisfied grin. “At least one of us does.” She looked down at her plain gray henley and jeans with a grimace, running her hands along the fabric before glancing back up with a pleading look. “Give me a minute to get showered and changed.”

Bryce nodded, his eyes following her as she made her way through the crowded room towards the bedrooms. Of course his mind had already conjured up an image of Blake in the shower, her slick hands massaging soap across her wet skin, the water trailing over her full breasts and down the curves of her belly and then lower … He cleared his throat and shifted in place to divert the blood flow in his body, attempting to avoid an obvious physical indication of this thoughts in his pants. He quickly surveyed the room for an entertaining distraction to pass the time.

Twenty minutes later, Bryce stood in the middle of the room chatting with several of the other surgical interns when he noticed Blake emerging from her room looking clean and, well, pretty damn hot. Her thick ebony hair tumbled over her shoulders, resting atop her low-cut red blouse that revealed just enough to leave a guy wanting more. And Bryce definitely wanted to see more … which was probably obvious by the way he was staring with his jaw wide open when he caught Blake smirking at him. Bryce tried to compose himself as best he could while she sauntered slowly over to him. “Oh, damn …” was all he could think to say once she was finally standing before him.

Blake arched an eyebrow at him inquisitively, that playful smirk still lifting the edges of her lips slightly. “Problem?” She asked innocently, as if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing to him.

Shaking his head, Bryce allowed his eyes to rake up and down her body, admiring her up close and personal. “Just admiring the transformation.” He noticed her dark eyes sparkle with satisfaction at his response, her bronze skin glowing warmly under his gaze.

“Are you saying I looked terrible before?” Her eyes narrowed in challenge as she waited expectantly.

Bryce’s eyes darkened as he met her gaze, a sly grin on his lips. “I’m saying you look killer now.” He didn’t miss Blake’s sharp intake of breath as he emphasized his words, delighting in the slight flush that crept to her cheeks at his bold flirtation.

Finally tearing her eyes away from his, Blake began looking around the party. “Well I don’t know about you, but I need to see a doctor about some shots!” She gave him a wicked smile. “You in?”

“Sounds like a plan. You lead the way, Reyes!” Sliding his hand to cup her lower back, Bryce followed closely behind as she guided them through the crowded room.

~~~

The party continued on until the wee hours of the morning, the rambunctious crowd gradually dwindling off and transitioning to a low-key gathering after the landlord came around at midnight. The keg had long been floated, the board games had been laid out, and couples had started pairing off and departing for the privacy of their own homes. By anyone’s standards, the housewarming party had been a success.

Despite the quiet vibes in the penthouse apartment, Bryce wasn’t ready to call it quits for the night. Determined to make himself useful, and hopefully win over a certain lady and her roommates in the process, he grabbed a recycling bag from the pantry and started making his way around the apartment picking up empty cans and bottles.

A few minutes into the mundane task he glanced up to find Blake watching him, her arms crossed across her chest as she observed him in amusement.

Bryce gave her a weak smile, shrugging his shoulders and gesturing to the remaining trash he hadn’t attacked yet. “Just about done cleaning up over here, Blake …” She approached, leaning down to retrieve a few cans and depositing them in the bag. “Thank you.” Bryce muttered appreciatively.

Blake scoffed. “Thank me? You’re the one staying late to clean up our party.”

Shrugging again, Bryce moved forward to pick up three more bottles. “Eh. Force of habit, I guess. Messes seem to follow me around for some reason. I’m pretty used to cleaning them up at this point.”

Blake chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned over to hand the last bottle to him. “Hmm … I can see that.” As she pulled away, her fingertips grazed the palm his hand, her eyes locking on his. Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, Bryce could see the heat dancing in her dark eyes before she spoke in a low voice. “You know … you don’t have to go home.”

“Oh yeah? Where would I sleep?” The anticipation buzzed in his veins, the tension lingering in the space between them.

“With me.” Her stare was unfaltering, demanding even. There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted this just as badly as he did.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” His voice came out softer and huskier, laced with desire and intention. Blake grinned smugly, extending a hand to him and he laced his fingers through hers, allowing her to take the lead and usher him to her room.

As soon as the door was closed Bryce pushed her against it, cupping her chin and guiding her lips to his in a languid kiss. He felt her body melt into him, her hands gripping him by the collar of his shirt as if she were afraid to let go. She released a soft moan into his mouth as his tongue teased hers lightly, their mouths dancing together until she pulled away breathless. “Do you think anyone saw us?” Her words came out in breathy pants.

Bryce was unable to suppress the soft chuckle. “Do you care?”

Stilling in place she thought for a moment, then shook her head before muttering her reply against the tender flesh of his lips. “Not really.”

Pushing away from the door, Blake gradually guided them to the center of the room near her bed, his arms around her waist and their breath mingling as their kisses grew more fervent. When Bryce’s hands slipped under her hem to the small of her back she arched against him, sighing at the feel of his warm hands on her bare skin. Bryce slowly leaned back, his voice thick with desire and his eyes tinged with wonder as he admired her in the dim light. “You are gorgeous and I need to see a whole lot more of you.” Like putty in his hands Blake allowed him to tug her blouse over her head, lacing her fingers through his hair as he laid a trail of wet open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone and down her chest. He relished the sound of her mewls as he reached the black lace of her bra, running his tongue over the swell of her breast peeking out while his hands reached around to free her from the confining garment. As soon as she was bare he captured one peaked nipple in his mouth, swirling it slowly with his tongue as she tugged his hair roughly, then shifting to grasp the other one between his lips.

Releasing her breasts Bryce stood upright, his eyes devouring Blake as she peeked out from under hooded lids, her arousal apparent in her labored breathing. The sight and the sound and the smell of her invigorated his senses, his pupils broad and dark with lust. His strong hands spinned her around until her bare back was flush against the soft woolen fabric of his sweater, his rigid arousal prominent against the curve of her backside. His hands made a slow path down her body, taking his time to savor every sound and shiver he earned from her along the way. The soft scrape of his teeth at the base her neck followed by slow suckling kisses made her squirm, eliciting a low moan from her throat. So lost in the sensations of his touch, Blake giggled once she realized he had managed to remove the remainder of her clothing, leaving her naked except for her black lace panties. “You are … very good at this.” She flashed him a coy smile over her shoulder.

“I’m good at a lot of things.” He placed a finger under her chin to tilt her face to his and capture her lips, his hands looping around her body to cup a breast in each palm.

She responded eagerly to his touch, his thumb and fingers tweaking her nipples gently and causing her to writhe as her pleasure built. “You did tell me you had the best hands ...”

His chest vibrated against her back as he laughed softly, eager to hear what naughty plans she had in mind for him. “And?”

“And I need more convincing.” She said with a cheeky grin. He laughed, cupping her hips in his hands and steering her towards the bed. When the back of her legs hit the bed she paused, peering up into his eyes as her hands roamed over his chest and shoulders. Suddenly her eyes narrowed, focusing on the soft fabric beneath her fingertips. “Wait ... how am I nearly naked while you’re still dressed?”

Bryce chuckled, taking one step back and giving her a challenging look. “Feel free to fix that.” He quipped, giving her his usual cocky smirk that he knew drove her crazy. And sure enough …

Blake stepped forward, her eyes locked on his as her hands tugged his sweater over his head. Her fingers moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing inch by inch of his smooth tan skin as she continued. She dipped her head to nip along his chest as she pulled the shirt from his shoulders, giggling before playfully pushing him backwards onto the bed. Bryce just smiled as he watched her lean down over him, her deft fingers working the fly of his jeans open and tugging them down to the floor. Crawling on the bed she settled on his lap, one leg on each side of his hips. He could feel the warmth of her through the layers of fabric between them, grinding his growing bulge up against her instinctively. “Better?” He asked in a low whisper.

Blake bent down to cup his face in her palms, her breasts brushing against the bare skin of his chest as she kissed him deep and slow. She emitted a satisfied sigh, her breath tickling his lips as she whispered between kisses. “So much.”

For a moment they lingered there, Bryce running his fingers over the bare skin of her back, their hips rocking together slowly as their need for each other grew. Slipping a hand between them, Bryce stopped and peered up at her, his eyes imploring her as his fingertips tickled the waistband of her panties. “Are you sure you want this?” The sincerity in his voice, although genuine, did little to mask the husky tone of desire there.

Nodding her consent, Blake met his stare. “Keep going.”

“Whatever you want, Blake.” His lips pulled up at the corner in a small smile as he laid her back against the bed, hooking his fingers on her panties and pulling them down her legs. Settling in beside in her in the covers, his traced a slow path up her thighs.

Breathing heavier from the anticipation, she did her best to respond between pants. “Whatever I want?” She gave him a playful smile before her eyelids fluttered closed at his delightful torture.

Bryce shifted his body to align himself along her, grinning widely as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him tighter. They moved together, his excitement pressing against her core, a tantalizing taste of what was to come. “Tell me.” He leaned down to kiss her, long and gentle, his fingertips dancing softly across the flushed skin of her cheek, her neck, her chest, settling at her waist. “Blake? What do you want?” He murmured into the crook of her neck as he lay kisses from her earlobe down to her shoulder.

“I want you to touch me.” She purred, her body tingling with need. She looked up to find him studying her face, his lip tucked between his teeth mischievously as he slid a hand lower and lower … Blake gasped when he found the wetness waiting for him between her legs, the slick heat causing Bryce to groan in arousal and his cock to twitch against the cotton material of his boxers.

God, he wanted her so bad … But he couldn’t take his eyes away from her as she squirmed at his touch, the soft moans and rolling of her hips against his hand giving him more than enough pleasure for the time being. “You’re stunning.” He whispered softly, his gaze never leaving her face.

She opened her eyes for a brief moment, lifting her hands to twine them in his hair and pull his face down to kiss him deeply. She laughed in between panting breaths. “And you really do have the best hands.”

He pulled away grinning wickedly, causing her to groan immediately at the loss of his touch and his kisses. His eyes flashed with a glimpse of something dark yet playful, sending a shiver from her head down to her toes. “You should see what the rest of me can do.”

Blake giggled as he moved down, kissing and nipping at her navel before moving lower, lower … but her her laughter was quickly replaced with soft moans as he licked along her abdomen, down her legs, up the inside of her thighs ... She threw her head back when his tongue ran a long stripe across her core, then another, Bryce unable to get enough of her smell and her taste. She gripped his hair in her fingers and thrust her hips to meet his mouth when he latched onto her clit, pulling it gently between his lips as he slipped two fingers into her. He could feel her begin to lose control, her legs shaking as he licked and sucked and fucked her relentlessly until she came with a cry, her back arching off the bed as she peaked.

Laying kisses up her body as she came down from her high, Bryce nestled in beside her and watched her breathing steady. He marveled at her radiance in this relaxed state, her skin rosy and slicked with a thin sheen of sweat, her breasts rising and falling in a steady rhythm as she regained her breath, her lips curled in a soft satisfied smile while she luxuriated in the aftershocks of her orgasm. “You’re amazing.” He murmured into the crook of her neck, running his fingertips lightly over her belly.

Blake chuckles under her breath, still not opening her eyes. “No … but I’m beginning to think every part of your body is amazing, Bryce Lahela.” She turned her head to face him, her gaze dropping his prominent erection pressed against her thigh. “Although there is one part I have yet to to prove this theory with.”

“Well I would hate to stand in the way of your research.” He flashes her a sly smirk, his heart rate already speeding up at the thought of what comes next.

Rolling to her side she presses her mouth to his, sliding a hand under the edge of his boxer briefs and wrapping it around his cock. Bryce moaned, his grip tightening and fingers digging into her hip as she started stroking him up and down, his hips moving in sync with her rhythm. Blake pushed him to lay down, pulling down his boxers and throwing them to the floor. Locking eyes with him, she lowered her head to start placing soft, wet kisses along his hips and across his abdomen, inching closer and closer to where he wanted her the most before backing off with a smug grin. After teasing him three times, Bryce released a short exhaling grunt. “Reyes … you’re killing me he-“ His complaint was cut short as Blake took him in her mouth, the vibrations of her laughter only adding to the extreme pleasure. “Ah fuuuuucccckkkk …”

With his fingers laced in her hair, she slid her lips up and down, up and down and again over his cock. She relished the feel of him pulsing every time she tickled the head with the tip of her tongue, the salty taste of his precum filling her mouth. One hand was situated at the base massaging whatever portion of his significant length could not fit in her mouth, while the other lightly caressed his balls, her coordinated ministrations overwhelming his senses. It didn’t take long before Bryce was thrusting his hips to meet her mouth, the warm wet sensation causing the pressure to build in his pelvis.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gently pushed her away, his eyes still closed and his teeth gritted as he forced himself to stop. “You’re way too good at that, and I’m afraid if you keep going you won’t be able to properly complete your research.” He released one last long exhale, then finally looked over to find her smiling at him. He pulled her tight against his torso, rolling her to her back as he settled between her legs, his eyes flickering with both heat and affection as he beamed into her face. “Besides, I’ve been looking forward to this view.” He felt Blake sigh against his lips as they met hers, her body melting into his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He slid inside of her, her warmth enveloping him in the most erotic and comforting way he hadn’t realized was possible. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him close as they started moving in tandem. Taking their time, Bryce took this moment to study her features, brushing his thumb gently across her cheek and eliciting a soft smile on her lips that stirred something deep inside of him. His hand founds hers gripping his shoulder, and he laced his fingers through hers, the intimate gesture stoking the heat in her gaze. She tilted her chin up to meet him in a kiss, her wanton moan filling his mouth as her tongue slipped past the seams of his lips. Feeling her moving eagerly beneath him, Bryce braced himself with her clasped hand above her head, giving him the additional leverage to roll his hips faster against hers.

Before long their slow, tender motion had morphed into frantic, heated thrusts. Bryce used his free hand to cup the back of her thigh, pulling her leg up to gain him additional access as his pelvis pounded against hers. He tried to focus on her, to stave off the aching desire for release inside himself while he waited for her to climax again. Just as he felt his willpower failing her body start quivering, her raspy moans signaling her impending orgasm. When the dam finally burst, he felt her core flutter around his cock, his name spilling from her lips as she found her release. Bryce tumbled over the edge with her, the pulsing of her walls around him drawing his own orgasm. After a few more thrusts, his body stilled as he emptied himself inside of her.

“Damn, Blake …” he mumbled, his word muffled on his lips smashed into her shoulder where he had collapsed on the bed.

“Yeah I know.” She breathes out loudly, the drowsy euphoria obvious in her tone. “I think all of your anatomical bits are in prime working order.”

“Good to know. My mother will be so proud.” He chuckled, leaning back on his side and perching himself up on one elbow. “So, was the housewarming party everything you wanted it to be?”

“I think it went really well, actually.” Blake turned face him, laying her head on her arm as she pulled a sheet up to cover herself. “Although if I’m completely honest, I enjoyed this private party even more.”

“I’m available to entertain any night of the week, but reservations fill up fast.” Bryce wiggled his eyebrows playfully until Blake swatted at him, causing him to lift his arms to shield himself in defense. “Kidding, kidding!”

“You better be kidding.” She giggled, her smile warm as she took his hand in hers. “But regardless, please be sure to pencil me in for several nights a week if your schedule will allow it.”

Bryce grinned widely as he dipped his head, his lips hovering mere inches above hers. “I’m at your beck and call, Reyes.” And when his lips met hers, all joking was quickly forgotten.

END

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special thanks to @walkerismychoice for sharing a few screenshots of dialogue that I missed.

Perma-Tag: @abbiebishops @akrenich @alesana45 @asprankle @bella-ca @blackcatkita @blackwidow2721 @boneandfur @catlady0911 @choicesarehard @choiceslife @choicessa @choiceswreckedme @client-327 @cocomaxley @crookedslimecreatorpasta @darley1101 @debramcg1106 @domainoflostsouls @drakelover78 @drakewalker04 @eileendannie @enmchoices @flowerpowell @gardeningourmet @harlequinash @harrington-sinclaire @hopefulmoonobject @indescribablechoices @indiacater @innerpostmentality @jadedpixiescribbles @lizeboredom @lolablackwrites @marikagia @mfackenthal @mrsnazariowrites @ritachacha @romancehereicome @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @simplyaiden-blog @snyggflicka @stopforamoment @sweetfluffyunicorn18 @tabithacarlisle @the-everlasting-dream @thequeenofcronuts @walkerismychoice @wickedgypsymoon @writtenbycandy

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[choicesatnight]

Quick

Title:  Quick

Pairing: James Ashton x Vivian (MC)

Rating: NSFW and stuff...

Word count:  1,466 words

My disclaimer:  This character is owned by PB, I just enjoy some elaboration. I really love James Ashton and I love Choices fanfics, especially nasty ass stuff but there isn’t much featuring my original bae, James Ashton from The Freshman series

So, I decided to put my amateur ass talent to work and write with James being the *star of the story*

A/N:  Use of Daddy

 “James…oh…. please…”

“hmmm?” his lips parting hers, allowing his tongue to swim in the ocean that has formed in anticipation  

“Never stop.” He isn't nearly finished with her, inserting two fingers to add to the sensation she feels.

“I want…your dick" she moans, and he uses his fingers to hold her lips open while strumming her clit like a guitar.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck…Daddy, I'm gonna…” he quickly puts his tongue on her clit, flicking than sucking, enjoying how wet she's become. Her legs start to shake as she feels every movement of his tongue.

He's never been so thorough before, his tongue licking every inch of her pussy, inside and out. Her moans are short and urgent, as though she's out of breath. He sucks on her clit again and while he tastes her completion, he flows down his shaft.

“Oh. My. Goodness. How did you get better at eating my pussy?”

“I became your husband. “

“Even you came!”

“I'm excited about how delicious my wife's pussy taste"

“Let's go to bed, my nasty hubby"

“Okay, let me clean my dick off"

“Babe...”

“Yes?”

Vivian gets on her knees in front of him and swallows his dick, feeling it go stiff in her mouth

“Yesss baby"

She immediately starts slurping, remembering the noise drives James wild. She loves the feel of his hard dick (anywhere) in her, giving her the juicy mouth for the kind of wet, messy blow job he loves to get.

Taking him in her throat each in and out repetition he closes his eyes, lost in the comfort that her mouth provides. Lost in the joy he feels from having his dick in her mouth. She starts to lick his balls and the underside of his shaft jacking him off while she does it. The bead of pre-cum glistening the head of his dick does not deter her from sucking on it, his most sensitive part, until she's deep throating him again. With the gentle glide of her nails down his chest to his waist as he rests in her mouth, he reaches his limit, grabbing her hair and she finally releases his dick from her mouth.

“There. You're clean now.”

He gently pulls her up from her knees to kiss her

“You're amazing. I’ma fuck you so hard, guarantee a baby will find their way to the womb"

She laughs, “Let's wait on that, Logan is still an infant. Newborn! We should call to check on him. I’m sure my parents are spoiling him, but we have to make sure they remember to alternate weeks with your parents while we're on trial.”

“So, no more nasty time? We're having parent talk now? Okay. We'll call in the morning before we leave for court. “

“Great!” she kisses his lips, throws on her nightgown and gets in the bed “I love my baby daddy!”

He searches for some PJ pants to put on and gets in bed after finding them “I love my wife.”

 **

THE PEOPLE V. BLACK MAMBA DAY 2

PROSECUTION

 “Your honor we'd like to present video evidence A" the prosecutor inserts a small disc to play on the television showing James walking into the café with Comfort and Vivian's seemingly empty car is parked across the street. It cuts off to show James with other women, each time Vivian's car is there. 

“People of the jury, this video shows the defendant in the vicinity of the café every time Mr. Ashton visited.”

The jury murmurs and some seem to be taking notes.

“Prosecution calls Comfort Greene to the stand.”

James' eyes go wide, he never even considered Comfort would testify against Vivian although it makes perfect sense. Comfort has always labeled Vivian as guilty.

Comfort walks to the stand, clearly dressed in hope of gaining James attention, while maintaining the professionalism that is expected in court.  James only feels annoyed that someone he knows dares to testify against his wife.

After being sworn in, the prosecutor asks

“Ms. Greene, how do you know Mr. Ashton?”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“And how long were you two together?”

“We dated a while before we became a couple. We dated for about three months. We were a couple for two.”

“During your relationship, did the defendant interfere at any time?”

“She was the reason he wouldn't commit to me and eventually the reason we broke up. She and James have a child together so that also kept her in our lives.”

“And you say you have evidence of her bad behavior?” Comfort hands the judge a picture, “After James left me for her, she did this.” The picture shows Vivian with her middle finger up hanging out the passenger side of her husband's ride.

“Your honor., I object. How do we know when this picture was taken?”

“Ms. Green, can you address that?”

“Yes, your honor. The picture is time-stamped in the lower right-hand corner and I have multiple copies on my phone with the date as well. It will match the day he came over.”

“Objection overruled"

“Thank you, Ms. Greene. No further questions” the prosecutor takes a seat, allowing the judge to speak to the defense lawyer.

“Does the defense wish to question the witness?”

“Yes, your honor” Michael walks to the stand

“Ms. Greene, did my client ever get involved in your relationship?”

“Objection your honor, asked and answered.” the prosecutor argues

“Sustained. Find another way to ask your question, Mr. Board.”

“Were you two friends?”

“No.”

“Enemies?”

“James never conducted an official meeting between us except the day Reyna died.”

“It is safe to say that you two don't know each other?”

“Umm. Yeah.” Comfort thinks for a moment but ultimately agrees.

“And yet you're convinced of her guilt.”

Comfort is silent as the jury scribbles and mumbles more.

“No further questions. You are dismissed, Ms. Greene.”

With barely a second of “empty air", the prosecutor calls attention to himself, 

“People of the jury, the defendant had an empty vial in the purse she used the day she and the victim went to the coffee shop which she scoped her supposed lover entertaining multiple women at. This was a revenge murder. Reyna Mercado was a friend to Mr. Ashton and she mistakenly thought she had a friend in the defendant as well. Don't let her murder be in vain. The prosecution rests.”

“We will reconvene tomorrow to hear the arguments of the defense. Court is adjourned.” The judge hits the gavel, and all begin to speak to one another. James and Vivian walk hand in hand alongside Michael.

Once outside the courtroom, Vivian is hardly able to control the fear flowing from her voice in urgency.

“They're building a case against me. Did you see that evidence? and James former failed replacement testified against me!”

“of all the things you've called her, replacement is the worst. She could never replace you.”

Vivian grabs James' cheeks, “That’s why I said FAILED replacement, honey.” She lets him but continues “They're making me look like a vengeful murderess. As though I'd harm anyone who poses a threat to my relationship.”

“To our marriage “James corrects her

“Why are you focused on the details? For goodness sake, they know we've only been married a few days. You said I'd be okay with you by my side. What happened!?”

Feelings just a little hurt, he ignores that and replies “I'm still here and you're still okay. Why are you so worried? There still isn't enough evidence for a conviction. Baby, you're innocent. That will prevail. I know it will. Michael? You're the lawyer. Tell her some legal stuff.”

James steps aside to reveal Michael cowering behind him. Michael stands straight, straightening his fie and blazer. He places a hand on Vivian's shoulder, “Mrs. Ashton, the only thing that prosecution did was paint a hazy image of you.” He clears his throat before continuing, “We have better witnesses. Better evidence, and better information in general to paint a much clearer image. We have what it takes to prove your innocence. Honestly, between you and me. I could get a guilty man off. I’m the best. Don't worry.” Vivian looks at Michael and visibly calms down.

“Okay, but can we talk about why you were hiding behind my husband? My lawyer needs to know how to handle confrontation. “

“I do. I just don't like it.

“Okaaaay… “Vivian walks over to James, placing a peck on his neck before grabbing his hand to hold.

Michael addresses them both “We're up tomorrow. You guys ready!?”

Catching Vivian and James ending a kiss only after hearing his question

“What? Yeah, of course “James speaks, unable to hide his smile

“I'm going to head to my office and let you lovebirds be. Call me if you need me.”

Teeny Tiny Tag List:

@zigortega4life

@littlecrookedheart 

[alj4890]

Love Prompt

(Liam x Addison) in a quick peek at their love as requested by @krsnlove

(Liam x Addison Sinclaire) in the AU where Riley chooses to be with Maxwell instead of our crown prince. A little Hollywood romance might be just what is needed. Just the fluff for these two. 

A/N This is pure crack. It goes back to my need to see everyone have a happily ever after. If Riley picks one of the others to marry, then I need to see each one have a true love. After being done so dirty by PB and strung along through two books, Liam especially needs to find his true love. Then maybe the whole borrowing a Royal Heir might not happen, LOL.

Choices: The Royal Romance and Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fiction.

Masterlist

Song: Night and Day 

I Think of You

Addison crumbled another piece of paper and tossed it into the garbage. She let her head fall on her desk, knocking some rolls of material off. A dramatic groan escaped.

"Is there a problem?" Thomas asked from the doorway.

"No." Addison mumbled without raising her head. "Everything's great."

"Clearly." He muttered. "I suppose this is practice for a future overly dramatic display."

She propped her head on her hands and looked up at him. "You've been in love before."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Is that a question?"

She rolled her eyes. "I could use some advice."

"Very well. My advice is this: tell him." Thomas bent down and picked up a crumbled piece of paper. Before Addison could stop him, he read what she had written. "Hmm."

"Hmm, what?" She asked.

"As much as I applaud your romantic bent to write out your feelings by hand, do you want to put yourself through the torture of waiting for it to be delivered to him and then not knowing if he even received it. Letters get lost in the mail all the time. Injured pride then refuses to allow you to even ask if he read it." Thomas crumbled it up and threw it in her garbage can. "You need to tell him in person."

"Oh, well that's easy." She replied. "I will simply climb into my private jet, fly across the ocean, and boldly enter the palace. Then I will walk past all the guards and servants and tell Liam that I am in love with him. I will confess that I pretty much have been since I met him. He will naturally marry me and make me his queen, because every costume designer is well versed in running a country." Addison finished in a bitter tone that took Thomas by surprise.

"Pack your bags." He ordered.

She groaned again and covered her face. "I'm not up for your humor today."

"When have I ever shown I have a sense of humor?" He folded his arms and glared at her. "Make certain to pack a suitable ball gown."

She dropped her hands and looked up at him. "You're serious?" His irritated frown at being questioned made her smile. "We're going back to Cordonia? Wait. Why?"

"In thanks for filming his country so well in The Last Duchess, the King sent an invitation to attend a ball he is hosting at the palace." He produced the invitation and handed it to her. "Now, do you wish to go or not?"

Addison jumped up and hugged him. "I do! Thanks Thomas! You're the greatest."

He awkwardly patted her back. "Yes. Well. Go pack."

"Yes, sir!" She ran off as her excitemen grew.

_________________

"Did you ask her to come?" Drake asked.

Liam's expression hardened. "You can say her name."

"Okay." Drake looked down and started pulling at his white t-shirt.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked.

"Looking for blood. I think your tone might have drawn some." Drake joked. "You can't sound like me." His signature smirk appeared. "You're too nice to pull it off."

Liam scoffed while a ghost of a grin appeared. "In answer to your question, I inadvertently invited her."

"How does one inadvertently invite someone?" Drake poured them both a drink and sat down across from him.

"I sent Thomas Hunt an invitation." Liam confessed.

"And what? You think he will tell her and bring her?" Drake asked.

"That is my hope. If nothing else, perhaps I can find out how she is." Liam stared down into his glass.

"Wow. You are worse than when Brooks told you she was in love with Maxwell." Drake met Liam's glare and shrugged. "It's true."

"Be that as it may, it changes nothing. Addison still returned to America." Liam mumbled setting his full tumbler down. He rubbed his hands over his face. "It was foolish of me to think she might uproot her life for a chance to see what we could have as a couple after such a short time together."

"As I recall, she asked you to give her time to think." Drake reminded him.

"We all know that was the polite way of saying I don't feel the same way you do." Liam shook his head. "She hasn't attempted to contact me. I am a fool for still hoping." He stood up and walked over to the window of his study. His bright blue eyes traveled over the well kept grounds around the palace, touching on the spots he had walked with Addison. He had fallen for the costume designer and her gentle, optimistic heart.

They had spent weeks together while Thomas filmed his movie in Cordonia. During a royal visit to the set, he had been instantly attracted to her upon introduction. The more he was around her the more he wanted to remain by her side. It was a different feeling than it had been with Riley. There was no nervous uncertainty. No fear that something could come along and ruin it. No suitors or conspiracies interfering during their dates. They were simply two people spending time alone and getting to know one another.

Their first date had been dinner at Applewood. It still made him smile at all the questions she asked. Everything from his favorite color to if he could control one element which would it be was talked over. 

Their first kiss had been under the stars as he walked with her through Applewood's hedge maze. He had brushed her hair back when the wind blew it in her face and their eyes had met for a heated moment before their lips softly melded. He still remembered how she had kept her eyes closed for an extra minute, as if wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as she could.

He sighed. Liam wanted her. He wanted a life filled with her infectious laughter. He wanted her sweet embrace for his own when he had a difficult day. He wanted her beside him, holding his hand as he addressed his people. He wanted to see her walking towards him in a wedding gown of her own design. He wanted her to be the mother of his children. Queen Addison. He rather loved the sound of that.

"Earth to Liam." Drake said again.

"Sorry. Did you say something?" He asked Drake. He then noticed Bastien standing there waiting.

"Sir, some of the guests have begun to arrive." The guard repeated.

"Thank you, Bastien." Liam put his suit jacket on as he walked out.

____________

"I think I'm going to be sick." Addison gripped Thomas's arm.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Thomas whispered angrily. "You look lovely in that particular color of coral. Do you wish to ruin all the trouble you went through to look your best before greeting him? The man only sent me an invitation in the hopes you would accompany me."

"He did?" Her blue eyes grew in size at that revelation. "Did Liam tell you that?"

"Of course not!" He looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. "God save me from romance. If this is love I want no part of it." Thomas grumbled. "It is obvious why I was sent an invitation."

"Liam is incredibly sweet. He might have truly invited you for the reasons he stated." Addison countered.

"Fine. Choose to believe that nonsense if you wish." Thomas shrugged. "I suppose then you have no problem greeting him."

"I--no-- of course." Addison lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. "It is only polite to thank him."

Thomas mumbled something she didn't quite hear. She did manage to catch the words asinine, love, and riddance. To calm her nerves, she focused on the way her long skirt changed shades of coral with each step in the romantic lighting. The bodice of her dress sparkled and her long blonde hair shined, drawing many eyes toward her.

I can do this, she thought. No matter how Liam feels about me, he will be kind. He is the best person I have ever met. So easy to love. She audibly swallowed. They were next in line to meet him. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the man she had fallen head over heels for.

Liam was dressed in white. His royal regalia was on full display. It was as if he had stepped from the pages of her favorite fairy tale. The crisp white material had somehow made everything about him infinitely more attractive. His blue eyes, dark blonde hair, and tanned skin were made to be shown against such a stark canvas..

After bowing to the nobles he was talking to, he turned with a welcoming smile that froze when his eyes landed on her. A good fifteen seconds of silence hovered between them before Thomas cleared his throat and greeted the young king.

"Welcome back to Cordonia, Mr. Hunt. Ms. Sinclaire." Liam shook the director's hand and then took Addison's. He bowed and pressed his lips to her knuckles. "I hope your flight was pleasant."

"It was." She said softly. "Thank you." Their eyes remained locked on one another.

Thomas looked at them and then over to the orchestra preparing to begin the ball. He cleared his throat again and started to inch away. "If you both will excuse me, I am in need of something to drink." He gently pushed Addison closer to Liam. "Your majesty, if you wouldn't mind escorting Addison to where she should go..." He walked away with a slight smile.

"It would be my pleasure." Liam remarked, his eyes remaining on the vision before him. "You look beautiful, Lady Addison."

She blushed and thanked him. "I didn't believe you could become more handsome, but here you are." She smiled up at him. "How do you always find a way to improve upon perfection?"

His grip on her hand tightened. The first strains of a waltz began and he asked her to dance. She nodded and held her breath when he took her into his arms.

Addison looked up at him and tried to talk. "How have you been?"

Liam remained silent as he looked into her eyes. He opened his mouth and shook his head. Ignoring the stares and whispers, he took her hand and led her out the doors that led into the courtyard.

He took her deep into the shadows, stopping once they were well away from nobles milling about the grounds. "Forgive me, but I need some privacy if we are to talk."

"I'm so sorry, Liam. I didn't mean to make you feel," she waved in a flustered manner. "Whatever it is my question caused."

He took a deep breath. "Addison, I am miserable."

Her eyes widened. "You are?"

"I am merely going through the motions of my duties and life in general." He took a step closer to her. His warm hands engulfed hers and he closed his eyes before looking back at her. "My feelings for you have only become stronger. I..." He swallowed. "I'm in love with you."

"You are?" Addison grimaced at her inability to say anything more.

He raised one of her hands to his lips. His eyes held such hope. "I know I shouldn't ask, but..." He trailed off.

"But what?" Addison gave into that magnetic pull that happened whenever she was near Liam. She took a step closer, her skirt brushing against his pants.

"Do you..." He felt truly afraid to ask her. If she told him she didn't feel the same or could never return his love, how could he go on without that glimmer of hope?

Addison watched him struggle to speak. She gently placed her hands on either side of his face. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. His instant, passionate reaction stole every thought from her. Her hands moved into his hair as he pulled her body flush to his.

When his lips moved down her neck, she couldn't hold in her feelings any longer. "I love you so much, Liam."

He froze. She leaned back in his arms. "I've tried to think realistically about how you should be with someone who has studied politics and courtly ways, but all I can think of is being with you. I know you could find someone better suited as your queen, but I want to be with you."

His lips crashed down on hers. He lifted her off the ground and spun her until she broke away to laugh. His smile filled with happiness took her breath away. Liam took her hand and knelt down. "Addison, my Addison." He tenderly kissed her hand. "I love you with all my heart. You are what I want for the rest of my life." Her smile caused his own to grow brighter.

She looked around the courtyard and seemed to become more nervous. "I--I'm not sure-- what am I supposed to say to a king?"

He stood up and kissed her cheek. "Whatever you want, my love. After all," his smile held a hint of humor. "You will be the Queen of Cordonia."

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. "Is it improper for the future queen to be so in love with the king?"

"Quite the opposite." His smile turned tender. "Besides, no one will notice."

"They won't? And how do you know that?" She asked, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Because they will be too focused on how in love their king is with you."

[omeliashepherdhunt]

Simple Ch. 1

Seattle was carrying on its stereotypical behavior with the nonstop rain. Owen hated having to drive in torrential downpour so late at night but another day at work got away from him with a steady flow of traumas. By the time he parked in the driveway, the clock on his dashboard read 10:28. Maybe his wife would still be up to see him. 

With his keys and bag hung up on the hooks by the front door, Owen quietly walked through the entryway and into their living room to see what Amelia was up to. Part of him was disappointed to see she was asleep but he couldn’t help but smile when he saw baby Abel still latched to his mother’s breast, both of them contently asleep. He was a miracle no doubt. Born with Down Syndrome and ASD, he had undergone heart surgery at 4 days old to correct the hole in his heart. However he flatlined twice during the procedure which shook the Hunt family to their core. 

In typical Grey-Sloan surgeon fashion, Amelia and Owen had been up in the surgical theater watching as none other than Sam Bennett operated on their newborn so they witnessed their son come back from the brink of death twice. Amelia decided right then that she would be taking an extended maternity leave. Abel would be immunocompromised more than typical babies with his heart issues, and he already had 2 school aged siblings and 2 parents that worked inside a hospital to provide plenty germs. Owen on the other hand was so bothered by what happened, he didn’t want to think about it ever again. In return, he buried himself in work so he hadn’t been home much the past month other than his one off day he’d take. 

When Owen leaned in to unlatch Abel to move him to the bassinet in their bedroom, he took a moment to admire Amelia’s beauty. However the longer he looked, the more he noticed. Her cheek bones were more prominent, her collarbone was even more noticeable, and even her ring looked a bit loose on her finger. She was already a petite woman so her apparent weight loss didn’t sit right with Owen. 

He quickly moved Abel off of Amelia which only startled her awake. 

“What the hell?”

“It’s just me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“He was sleeping. We were fine.”

“I know but you can’t sleep in the recliner all night. Let’s go to bed. It’s coming close to 11 o clock.”

Amelia was definitely drowsy but was happy to settle in their bed. She wasn’t used to Owen being around anymore. They hadn’t really discussed it which in the long run would only worsen whatever riff they had, but she didn’t know what to say to him anymore. He just wasn’t around. Instead of focusing solely on their newborn son, she also had to split herself for the older three. Flynn had baseball and Bella was in gymnastics. Between two school kids, their sports, a very clingy one and a half year old, and their specially abled baby, both of which she was still nursing, there was no time for herself. She didn’t have Owen around to help offset the heavy load that was their life and honestly she didn’t have it in herself to fight with him about it. Amelia was spread as thin as possible and it showed. The house wasn’t trashed, but it was messier than they usually kept it. She felt that if she could keep the four kids alive, fed, and on time for school and sports each day, that was enough. Anything else could wait for another day. 

“Well, good night. I hope the kids behaved for you.”

Amelia hugged into her pillow and not Owen like she normally liked to. 

“They were great. Flynn and Bella are great helpers. He has a baseball game tomorrow at noon but don’t worry, he already knows Dad will probably be at work. Bella mastered her back handspring tonight so she’s really excited about that. Rosie is cutting all four molars at the same time so she is miserable.”

“What about Abe?”

“He’s good. He’s as strong as ever. Not at all scary.”

Owen shook his head at the very intentional dig she threw at him. While she didn’t care to argue, she would make it known how much she hated that he willingly chose to stay away. 

“I’m not scared of my own son, Amelia.”

“Really? When was the last time you held him for more than 5 minutes? I mean hold him just to admire him, not just because I need to brush my teeth and hair. They’re only a baby once.”

“I saw the monitor both times his heart stopped. It haunts me. I’ve doubted my ability as a parent ever since that day. I wish I could forget that that happened, but I can’t. Instead I save lives. I focus on that.”

“I was there too! You weren’t the only one. Ya know, I would’ve never done what you did. Then again, I was never given that option. You have three other kids too. They miss their dad. Sam knew what he was doing in the surgery too. Abel is strong and he made it. We clearly aren’t on the same page but just know I’m done covering you with the kids. Flynn and Bella are both old enough to understand what is going on. They will remember when you weren’t around. If you can live with yourself knowing that, okay. I am so exhausted day in and day out. So do what you want but they know Dad has no true reason to always be gone.”

Not another single word was spoken from either of them. Owen didn’t like knowing how much he was impacting his kids. Apparently he hadn’t thought too much into it until now. 

.

Amelia was woken up just after 8 a.m by Bellamy climbing in bed with her. 

“Mama, Daddy is cooking pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Flynn is helping squeeze oranges for orange juice. Daddy put Rosie in her highchair with some banana and the baby is sleeping.”

“Oh thank you for coming to see me. Good morning my sweets.”

“Daddy isn’t working today?”

“It’s supposed to be his weekend off so he shouldn’t...”

Bellamy’s face lit up but Amelia didn’t want her to be disappointed in case he elected to go in.

“... but if he gets paged, then he will have no choice but to go. Mama and Daddy save lives.”

“And if you and Daddy are here, there are people that may not make it.”

“Yes but we love you all the same.”

Bellamy curled up to her mom’s side, basking in the rare moment of being the only one with Amelia. 

“Mama, can we do something fun today? Like going to the aquarium? I want to see the otters again like we did on my field trip.”

Amelia kissed the top of her daughter’s head, taking a second to breathe in the sweet scent of Bella’s strawberry shampoo. 

“Your brother has a baseball game at noon but we can go tomorrow if everyone behaves today. Do you still want to spend the night with Uncle Andrew and Aunt Maggie?”

“Yes please! They let me help give Emma and Evan their baths at night. It’s so much fun. Will Daddy come to the aquarium on Sunday?”

“I don’t know, sweets. You’d have to ask him.” Amelia laid there a little bit long with her oldest daughter until she heard her youngest start to fuss on his baby monitor.

“Bella, go see Dad. I’m going to feed Abel then I’ll come eat breakfast with everyone.” “Okay mommy! I love you very much.”

“Love you too sweet girl.”

.

By the time the older kids were dropped off with their aunt, uncle, and twin one year old cousins by Owen, Amelia had Rosalie and Abel nursed to sleep for their mid-afternoon naps. Shockingly he had been at home with her and the kids all morning and afternoon. Now she was uncertain of what to do. Amelia wasn’t used to his undivided attention since typically the kids were running circles around them or the whole house was asleep by the time Owen got home at night.

Owen carefully sat down beside Amelia on the couch. “Babe, can we talk about last night?”

“What about it?”

Owen ran his fingers through his tousled curls. This wasn’t going to be easy for him but he could only blame himself.

“There’s no excuse for my absence. I have let my wife down and all of my kids. Sorry won’t suffice, I know. I am just going to work on being here. Seeing you last night with Abel still latched onto you and you both fully asleep, looking like a pair of angels, I noticed you have even lost enough weight for your wedding rings to not fit properly anymore. If there’s no one here to help you, you won’t have time to get proper rest or eat meals that isn’t pb&j and goldfish. That’s my fault and I hate myself for it. I have two weeks left of paternity leave that I haven’t used since I went back to work 2 weeks after Abe was born. I called Bailey on the drive home to let her know I’m using those two weeks effective tomorrow.”

“But why? You have been so happy since you went back to work…”

“Absolutely not. I’ve just kept busy. I let my entire family down and now I need to redeem myself. I love you so much Amelia. I love you, Flynn, Bella, Rosie, and baby Abel more than anything. I’m also going to make sure to bond with Abel has much as I can these next two weeks.”

Owen finished his long winded statement to see Amelia’s eyes filled with tears. “Owen, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say something like that.”

She hugged into his side and was happy to have him with her now. “It’s true. I promise. I’ll be right here with you. I’m all yours for two weeks straight.” “I love you. This doesn’t fix everything but it’s a good start.”

“I love you too. I know it’s not gonna get back to normal overnight but we can take it day by day together with the kids.”