#we needed room on the power panel to put in a kitchen in the in-law suite and now I don't get fucked in the hot tub anymore... sad

[webscarlet]

Radiant Home Heating vs. Traditional Heating: Which is Better for You?

When it involves heating your private home, deciding on between radiant home heating and conventional heating systems can be difficult. Each technique has its precise benefits and downsides. At Harris-Dudley Plumbing & Heating Co., we intend to manual you via these alternatives to help you make a knowledgeable decision. In this article, we'll examine radiant and traditional heating systems, evaluating their efficiency, cost, comfort, and environmental impact. Let's dive in and locate the high-quality heating answer for your property.

Understanding Radiant Home Heating

What is Radiant Home Heating?

Radiant home heating warms your home by shifting heat without delay from a hot surface to humans and objects inside the room via infrared radiation, just like feeling the warmth of the solar. Unlike traditional systems that heat the air, radiant heating focuses on heating the ground or panels, which then radiate heat into the residing space, offering a consistent and cushty surroundings.

This device has roots in ancient instances, with the Romans the use of hypocaust systems to heat their bathhouses. Modern radiant heating utilizes advanced materials and technology, making it an advanced preference for owners seeking green and comfortable heating.

Types of Radiant Heating Systems

Electric Radiant Heating

Electric radiant heating uses electric cables or mats set up beneath the floor. These systems are highly smooth to put in, specifically in new builds or renovations. They're ideal for spot heating in smaller regions like lavatories or kitchens. Controlled by a thermostat, electric powered radiant heating gives specific temperature law, making sure consolation where you want it maximum.

Hydronic Radiant Heating

Hydronic radiant heating circulates hot water thru tubing embedded inside the ground, making it incredibly green for large areas and whole houses. The water may be heated by way of boilers, water warmers, or maybe sun panels, providing a versatile and sustainable heating choice. Known for keeping regular temperatures, hydronic structures are desired for complete-residence heating because of their decreased running costs and integration with renewable power resources.

Exploring Traditional Heating Systems

What is Traditional Heating?

Traditional heating systems heat the air and distribute it at some point of the home using a network of ducts or pipes. These structures include forced-air systems, baseboard warmers, and radiators. Although traditional heating can warm a home speedy, it often results in choppy heating, with a few rooms warmer than others.

Types of Traditional Heating Systems

Forced-Air Systems

Forced-air structures, including furnaces and warmth pumps, are commonplace in many homes. They work by means of heating air and dispensing it through ductwork and vents. These structures are flexible, supplying both heating and cooling, but can circulate dust and allergens, doubtlessly affecting indoor air satisfactorily.

Baseboard Heating

Baseboard warmers, which use electric or warm water, are hooked up along the baseboards of a room and provide zoned heating, allowing man or woman to manipulate over distinctive regions of the home. While highly smooth to install, baseboard heaters can be much less green, as warmth tends to rise, developing cooler floor degrees and ability drafts.

Radiators

Radiators use steam or warm water to produce warmness and are usually part of a hydronic heating machine. Although effective, radiators can absorb enormous area and might not be the most green choice. They actually have a sluggish response time, taking longer to heat up and cool down.

Efficiency Comparison

Energy Consumption

Radiant heating structures are normally more energy-green than traditional structures because they warm gadgets and those without delay, running at lower temperatures while keeping comfort. In assessment, forced-air structures need to warm the air to better temperatures, leading to more energy intake.

A look at the U.S. Department of Energy determined that radiant heating can lessen heating power utilization by up to fifteen% as compared to standard compelled-air systems. This efficiency interprets into lower energy bills and a discounted environmental footprint, making radiant heating an attractive choice.

Cost-Effectiveness

While the preliminary fee of putting in radiant heating may be higher, the performance and decrease operating costs frequently result in lengthy-time period savings. Traditional systems might be inexpensive to put in initially however can incur higher power payments over time because of their much less efficient operation. Homeowners with radiant heating structures regularly report lower monthly electricity payments no matter the higher prematurely funding.

Comfort and Performance

Heat Distribution

Radiant heating presents even heat distribution, doing away with cold spots and developing a steady, snug surroundings. Traditional structures, specially compelled-air, can cause choppy heating, with some areas of the home feeling warmer than others. The even heat distribution of radiant structures is beneficial in open-plan spaces and huge rooms, preventing the stratification of warm and funky air layers.

Indoor Air Quality

Radiant heating has a tremendous effect on indoor air since it would not depend upon blowing air thru ducts, lowering the circulation of dirt, allergens, and other pollution. Traditional systems can exacerbate those troubles, mainly making the air worse. For families with allergic reaction sufferers or people with breathing conditions, the purifier air furnished with the aid of radiant heating may be a large benefit.

Noise Levels

Radiant heating systems function silently, growing a peaceful home surroundings. Traditional pressured-air structures can be noisy due to the operation of blowers and the movement of air via ductwork. The quiet operation of radiant heating makes it an high-quality desire for bedrooms, residing rooms, and different regions wherein noise ranges count number, improving normal comfort and exceptional lifestyles.

Installation and Maintenance

Installation Process

Installing radiant heating, in particular hydronic systems, may be complex and time-consuming, requiring expert know-how. Electric radiant structures are less complicated to put in but nevertheless require careful planning. Traditional heating structures, specially forced-air, are usually less difficult and quicker to put in. The complexity of installing radiant systems often means better hard work prices, however this is offset by their lengthy-time period advantages.

Maintenance Requirements

Radiant heating systems are low-protection once installed, without shifting components to worry about. Traditional structures, especially those related to ductwork, require normal upkeep to make certain ultimate overall performance and air quality. This can include clear out changes, duct cleansing, and machine music-ups. The simplicity of radiant systems manner fewer breakdowns and much less need for professional service calls, main to full-size financial savings on upkeep prices.

Environmental Impact

Sustainability

Radiant heating systems, especially hydronic ones the usage of renewable electricity assets, are greater sustainable and environmentally pleasant. They devour much less power and may be included with sun panels or geothermal structures. Traditional systems, especially the ones counting on fossil fuels, have a higher environmental impact.

Incorporating renewable strength into a hydronic radiant system can drastically reduce your property's carbon footprint. By utilizing sustainable electricity assets, you make a contribution to a cleaner surroundings and decrease your reliance on non-renewable resources.

Carbon Footprint

By operating more efficiently and doubtlessly using renewable energy, radiant heating systems typically have a lower carbon footprint in comparison to standard heating structures, which regularly rely on non-renewable power assets. Homes heated with radiant systems usually produce fewer greenhouse gas emissions, aligning with global efforts to combat climate trade.

Cost Analysis

Initial Costs

The preliminary funding for radiant heating can be huge, specifically for hydronic structures. However, electric radiant systems can be extra low-priced for smaller installations. Traditional structures, particularly forced-air structures, normally have lower in advance charges. While the preliminary fees may also seem daunting, it's crucial to recall the long-term advantages and savings associated with radiant heating.

Long-Term Savings

Over time, the performance of radiant heating can cause full-size financial savings on electricity payments. Traditional structures may additionally incur better long-term charges because of their less green nature and higher maintenance necessities. Homeowners with radiant heating regularly see a go back on their funding through decreased energy prices.

Both radiant and traditional heating structures have their merits. Radiant heating excels in electricity efficiency, comfort, and environmental effect but comes with higher installation charges. Traditional heating structures are usually simpler to install and keep but can be less efficient and have a greater environmental effect. Ultimately, the selection depends on your particular desires, price range, and environmental issues.

If you prioritize long-term financial savings, steady comfort, and a lower environmental effect, radiant heating is probably the right desire for you. However, if you want a faster, extra cost-effective set up and are snug with ordinary upkeep, traditional heating structures might be more appropriate. At Harris-Dudley Plumbing & Heating Co., we're here to help you make the excellent desire for your property.

Ready to improve your private home heating device? Contact Harris-Dudley Plumbing & Heating Co. At 801-363-3883 to discuss your options and agenda for a session. Let's make your property a warm and comfortable haven with an appropriate heating answer!

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Can you please do ❛ you better watch your fucking mouth with Dylan?? And we’re all ready to be destroyed by the Dylan smut trashy 😉

OhhHhHHhH ShiIiItTttTttT

This sounds like it's gonna drag me down a naughty trail. I never really know though, so let's find out together! Warnings for smut. These are smut prompts ;)

P.S. I got this same prompt for Stiles, so I hope the anon that requested it is okay if it's for Dylan <3

P.P.S. I still have a few requests sitting in my inbox that I will eventually write, but this is the last one I'll be doing until I get the next chapter of FAFLA done :)

Prompt list HERE

Steamy Stary Night

A cool night, a hot soak, and even hotter company. What could be better? You know those moments where you think real life actually has a chance at measuring up to fantasy? This was one of those times. You were still in the house wrapped up tight in a fluffy white robe, looking out at Dylan on the stone patio taking the cover off the hot tub. He had a towel slung low around his waist, but you knew there was nothing underneath.

You were desperate already. You made it too easy for him, but you didn't care. You could count on one finger the number of times you'd actually made him really work for it. You sighed as you tipped your head, staring at the round curve of his ass as he bent over to set the cover down.

He dusted off his hands and turned to the house. To you. He smiled in that perfectly sexy lopsided way that he knows undoes you and beckoned you with a curled index finger.

You smiled back, slid open the patio door, and stepped outside.

The air was brisk, a slight breeze licked goosebumps up your arms from your exposed wrists to your shoulders. The sun had long set, and the hazy deep blue of the sky above was speckled with only a few of the galaxy's brightest stars, those vibrant enough to fight off the bright lights of L.A.

"Don't you look cozy," Dylan hummed, looking you up and down as he walked toward you. He opened his arms and you stepped into them.

"So do you..." you said, resting your cheek against his bare chest while he wrapped you up in a tender hug.

He pressed a kiss into your hair and then another to your forehead before you pulled back from him to look up into his eyes. He brushed an errant hair that had fallen out of the messy bun on your head behind your ear. His tongue wet his lips before he reached up to cup your cheeks in his palms.

God. He could still make your stomach flutter with the way he looked at you before a kiss. The way his warm eyes softly flick between yours? The flutter of his long lashes that accompanied the few languid blinks before he leaned in? He weaponized that shit. It was enough to make you feel like a silly schoolgirl with a crush on the boy in math class two rows over.

The kiss was as satisfyingly perfect as they all were. The way he held you, the way he leaned into it with his whole body, the soft exhaled little moans he offered when you kissed him back in earnest, all of it made you feel like a lottery winner. How did you get so lucky? What in the hell did you do in a past life to deserve this? You must have been a goddamn Saint.

His large hands splayed across your lower back when he finally pulled away from your kiss. "Come on," he said with a smirk, taking your hand in his and leading you toward the spa that was billowing with steam.

He'd taken the time to turn on the hanging lights that draped across the fence on the far side of the yard, and a few candles sat lit on the patio next to the tub. There was a bottle of wine in an ice bucket next to them along with two crystal glasses.

Letting go of your hand, he walked around to the step into the spa and unfurled the corner of his towel, letting it drop to his feet. The glow of the water and steam lit his perfectly naked body and it sent an electric little ripple through you.

You watched as he sank down into the water, the surface of it lapped against his waist just above his navel as he stood in the deepest part of the hot tub. "Gonna leave me in here all alone, huh?" he hummed, smiling up at you, holding out his hand.

You looped your finger into the tie of your robe and undid the loose knot. You curled into it one last time before you slid it off your shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

The little appreciative sound of Dylan's breath catching in his throat made you blush. His hungry gaze roamed over you and the swell of warmth it sent through you had you feeling like you were already soaking in the hot water.

You stepped down into the tub and took his hand.

He guided you to a seat and then leaned over the edge of the tub to fill the two glasses of wine. Then, he drifted back over to you, handing you one as he settled into the seat next to you.

"Such a nice night..." he whispered, resting his head on the headrest of the corner seat, and then took a long sip of his wine.

You nodded in agreement, looking at him rather than the sky. "Beautiful."

The two of you sat together, hands entwined beneath the surface of the gently bubbling water. Neither of you felt the need to speak as you just soaked in the warmth of each other's presence that was so perfectly complemented by the soothing water.

When you'd both finished your wine and set the glasses aside, Dylan grinned and pulled you into him until you were gliding up into his lap in the large corner seat of the tub.

You were straddled over his thighs, relishing the way it felt when his hands glided down from your waist to cup your ass before he gave it a firm and needy squeeze. You ground down into him a little before he leaned forward and captured your lips in his.

The kiss was hungry, it had an aggressive edge. He nipped and sucked on your lower lip, his greedy hands roaming and groping what he could reach.

You softly moaned his name when he separated his mouth from yours long enough to allow it, and the reaction you felt ripple through was so fucking intoxicating.

His fingertips dug into your skin as his grip tightened, and the low little growl he made before he latched onto the pulse point of your throat to leave a dusky little mark made you feel like the last meal of a death row prisoner. It was empowering to know you could undo him too. That he might want you almost as desperately as you always wanted him. Almost.

You knotted your fingers into his hair and sighed at the way his stubbled cheeks roughed up the skin of your shoulder and throat. The feeling of his tongue tracing up the tendon of your neck made you shudder. You rolled your hips into him, feeling how hard he was when he rutted up between your legs. Your head fell back and you looked up at the night sky. At the moon and those tenacious little stars, seeing a few more when Dylan's teeth gnashed and nipped at your throat.

"Mmm," he hummed, sucking a last little kiss into your skin before he looked up at you. His lips were glistening and plump and curled up in a devious little smirk. His grip on you loosened enough for you to sneak out of his grasp.

It was your turn to do a little damage. "Stand up," you said, crouching in front of him in the middle of the tub.

"But...but it's cold out there..." Dylan whined, smiling as he floated toward you a bit.

You moved back out of his reach. "I'll make it worth it..." you whispered, before your lips spread into a mischievous smile.

Dylan's eyes narrowed a bit, and his lips hung parted for a moment before he spoke. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "Promise."

Dylan huffed out the tiniest little laugh, his tongue prodding at the inside of his lower lip, brows flashing up his forehead. Then he rose up out of the water, steam rippling the air around his skin as it cooled in the evening air.

You couldn't help but stare. The water ran down his body, pooling a bit in his belly button before it spilled down into the coarse hair beneath it. When he leaned against the edge of the tub, your eyes roamed over his length, the feeling of thirst overwhelming you as you watched the water dripping from its tip.

"Not gettin' any warmer here," he teased.

You shook your head and drifted back into his space, settling on your knees on the seat in front of him. You leaned in close and let out a long breath along the length of him before you paused at his tip. "Shut up," you whispered before you sealed your lips around him.

Dylan's hand moved from where it had been resting on the edge of the tub alongside his hip to cup your ear. "Shit..." he breathed out in appreciation, his fingers knotting into the damp hair on the back of your head.

You smiled around him, pleased with yourself, knowing how good he felt when his erection flexed a bit in your mouth. Then you took him deeper, pressing your tongue to the vein as you sucked your cheeks. You relaxed your throat and slowly took him all the way to the base.

"H—Holy fuck..." he stuttered, his grip in your hair tightening, holding you in place while his hips thrust forward just the tiniest bit. "So good..."

When you felt the tension in his fingers ease, you pulled back up his length and then dipped forward again, increasing the pace as your tongue traced little patterns on the thick vein that pulsed beneath his length with each pass of your lips.

"You're...gonna make...make me cum," he whispered, his thumb tracing along your cheek.

You pulled away enough to speak. "That's kinda the point..." you teased, flicking your tongue along the slit of him, savouring the salty taste.

Dylan let out a little laugh that was choked off when you sucked the tip of him back into your mouth. "But... I wanna fuck you first..."

Those words sent a ripple of pleasure through your body. Your lips trembled and you looked up at him.

Dylan smiled and gripped himself in his palm before he pulled free of your lips with a little pop. Then he took your hand in his and pulled you up out of the water and into a bruising kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth and you kissed him back with just as much determination to please.

With a final greedy nip at your lower lip, his hands gripped tightly at your waist and he swapped your positions and then spun you around so your back was pressed against his chest. He held you to his body, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear, his length prodding at your low back.

"You gonna make me feel good?" you asked, turning your head toward him, looking up at him as you wet your lips.

"Mhm," he hummed, rolling his hips into you as his hand kneaded at one of your breasts.

Your eyes fluttered closed. "Gonna fuck me?"

"Yes."

You smiled, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. "What the fuck are you waiting for then?"

Dylan let out a breathy little laugh in your ear. "You better watch your fuckin' mouth..."

"Or what?"

"Or...I'm gonna make you scream so goddamn loud you wake the fuckin' neighbours."

You groaned and rolled your head against his collarbone. "Fuck the neighbours..."

Dylan licked a long line up the side of your throat before he tensed and grabbed your wrist, pushing you away enough to pin it to your lower back before he bent you forward over the edge of the hot tub, water sloshing out over the stone patio that was flush with it.

You splayed your free hand out in front of you and looked back at him over your shoulder.

"You're fuckin' shameless..." he said, as you watched him grip himself in his strong hand and line himself up with your entrance.

You grinned and braced yourself before you said what you knew would provoke him. "And you're still not fucking me..."

The little snarl that curled his lip before he slammed himself into you was one of those perfect little microexpressions that nearly drove you insane. His grip on your wrist that he still had pinned behind you was almost painfully tight. He rolled his hips when he was buried all the way inside you, his body flush with yours.

"Better?" he said before he pulled out and fucked into you again.

"Fuck!" you gasped, your fingertips curling around one of the rough stones of the patio, your cheek falling to rest on the back of your hand.

"That a yes?" he asked, unmoving.

You pressed back into him in a silent plea for him to keep going, but he remained still.

"Uh uh..." he reprimanded. "If you want it so bad, I want you to beg for it..."

You heard him draw in a sharp breath, his fingers around your wrist opening and then gripping tightly again. "Dylan..."

"Dylan, what?"

"Please, Dylan..." You swallowed the tension that had your mouth watering and tightened yourself around his length, squeezing him inside you before you gave him what he wanted. "Please...fuck me."

He practically growled out a breath as he released his punishing grip on your wrist and grabbed your waist in his hands before he started thrusting into you so hard and fast it took your breath away.

You braced yourself on the edge of the tub, gasping out his name and half-formed expletives as each jolt of his hips pushed you closer and closer to the sweet release you were starving for.

"Mmm," he hummed, one hand reaching up to grab your breast and pinch your nipple before he gripped it tightly over your shoulder so he could fuck you even deeper.

"Holy shit!" you called out as the slight change in angle had each one of his thrusts driving right into your g-spot.

"That's right...scream for me..." he praised before he spanked your ass so hard you knew the red welt in the shape of his perfect hand would be there long enough for you to appreciate it later.

His pace quicked when you started letting out a near-constant stream of moaned curses between the sloshes of water that were spilling out and soaking your hands. He was close to, you could feel it in his rhythm, hear it in the catches in his breath, and you wanted to pull him right over the edge with you.

"Dyl—" you gasped, feeling the first threads of your release starting to unravel. "Please...I'm gonna come!" You looked back over your shoulder at him, desperate to see his face, to see if he was as gone as you felt.

He moaned your name, his stuttered thrusts becoming so erratic you knew he was right there. "Me too...fuc— Gnh!"

The feeling of him spilling into you, of his jarring hips, and the sound of his gasped cries of your name did you in. You came so hard you thought you might blackout. Little blue specks of light flashed across your vision as you spiraled through the throes of release, all the while Dylan was still gently fucking himself through his own.

When the two of you finally separated and slid back into the warm water next to each other, Dylan pulled you in under his arm and pressed a kiss into your hair, still a bit short of breath.

You reached up and pulled the hand that was looped over your shoulder to your lips to press a kiss to it. "I think you might have been the one to wake the neighbours," you teased.

He chuckled, looking down at you. "Fuck the neighbours."

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Four

Summary: In which a call for help leads to Flip and Pretty Girl facing their feelings.

Warnings: Smut. 18+, NSFW, Swearing, PIV. WC- 5,506

A/N: Admittedly very excited to write the chapter. Suffered a few days of migraines this week, which now has me questioning every word I’ve written, but I hope you enjoy. To those who comment and follow regularly, you guys truly bring me joy and I appreciate you ❤️

Flip was dreaming in flashes. The events of the week prior, in the file room with (Y/N), replaying themselves over and over. Flash, her wide eyes. Flash, the way she wet her lips. Flash, the brief look of disappointment when they were interrupted. He’d been ruminating on that look, however neither of them brought it back up again-not after the meeting, where she’d sat next to him with her foot shaking uncharacteristically, nor on the silent drive home. It just...sat in the air between them, a balloon neither of them wanted to pop.

Already suffering from poor sleep quality, Flip was now sinking into a permanently exhausted state with the addition of nightly dreams that kept him on the edge of consciousness. His brain seemed determined to keep thoughts of (Y/N) at the forefront regardless of the time of day. He had been in love a few times in his life; with women who were kind, eager to become the housewife of a detective. But he never felt for anyone like he did for (Y/N). The protectiveness, the desire to know everything about her, to know what she was thinking...it was overwhelming. And so the dreams kept him tossing each night. And while he might have stayed like this, fighting them until he slipped into a deeper sleep, he was instead abruptly awoken when the phone next to his bed began a shrill ringing.

“Christ,” He mumbled, jerking up and rolling over. The clock on his bed stand read two-thirty in the morning. He grumbled in displeasure, intending on ignoring it. When the ringing didn’t cease, he groaned and reached for the receiver, his voice gruff with sleep when he barked, “Zimmerman.”

“Um, hi Flip.”

Flip immediately tensed, sitting up as the sound of (Y/N)‘s voice came down the line. His mind was already running ahead making the worst assumptions about why she would be calling so late on the weekend. It wasn’t a surprise when his voice came out slightly choked, “Pretty girl, are you alright? Are you safe?”

Her voice sounded somewhat strained with regret, “I’m safe, really. I’m so sorry to bother you so late-“

“Just tell me what you need, darling.” He interrupted, twisting to drop his feet to the floor and casting his eyes around the dark bedroom for his sweatpants.

She sighed, “The power went out here a few hours ago, and I’m not sure why. But with the weather tonight it’s absolutely freezing in here now. And my brother in law is away for work,” She took another breath, which Flip recognized was her attempt at hiding how cold she was, “I feel silly calling you.” He smiled, pleasure blooming in his chest at the realization that after her brother in law, Flip was the next person she trusted to call in the middle of the night.

Flip hummed slightly at her words, “No reason to feel silly-I’ll be over there in ten, take a look for you.” A voice in the back of his mind questioned whether this was a wise choice, but he pushed it back, ignoring it. She needed him.

“You don’t have to do that. If you could maybe just tell me what to look for on my, uh, breaker? Electric panel?”

Now he couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, “I’m coming over, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

A quiet thank you met his ears as he put the phone down. Flip switched on the light and stood, making his way around his room to put on his sweatpants and sweater before stopping in the bathroom to freshen up and splash his face with water to wake up. The combination of cold water and mint from his toothpaste helped accomplish this. Excitement flooded within him at the realization he would get to see her so soon.  

Pulling his shoes on, he considered if there was anything he should bring. He knew she probably had a toolkit but wondered if she would have a high powered flashlight. Deciding to lean on the side of caution, he grabbed his own from the kitchen drawer before sliding on his rain jacket, grabbing his keys and heading out into the cold night. It was rainy, a combination that meant the roads were especially tricky to drive on. His ten-minute drive was closer to twenty, tension building in his stomach the closer he got.

He was worried about being alone with her, of the risk of crossing a line. Worrying she would ask him what she had in the file room.

“Are you sure you aren’t keeping anything from me?”

How did you confess to loving your best friend, when they were the only good thing in your life?

When Flip pulled his truck onto her street, he noticed straight away that it was darker in her neighbourhood than on the main road. Glancing around at the houses, he saw no lights on, not even on porches. Parked in the driveway, Flip looked at (Y/N)‘s dark house as he stepped from his truck, then around the street. It was eerily dark, even the streetlights were out. So it had to be a power outage from the weather and not an issue with her breaker.

Hopping up her front steps, Flip rapped on the door softly. After a moment, the door opened to reveal his friend smiling shyly, a flashlight in her hand. “Hi Flip, come on in. Thanks for coming.”

She stepped back and secured the door while he removed his jacket and shoes, shaking some rain from his hair. “Hi, darling.” He looked around at her then, drinking in her casual appearance.

Her hair was falling in soft waves over her shoulders, her face clear of makeup. She wore a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms with an oversized CSPD sweatshirt. Flip felt his stomach fill with heat at the sight of her looking so...radiant. Innocent. Soft.

“Got some good news, and some bad, darling.” He said after a pause.

She gestured for him to follow her into the living room. Glancing around the cozy space, he saw she had lit a few candles along her fireplace mantle to bring some light to the room. Even in the dim light, he could tell the space was decorated entirely by her. Her personality shone through even in the choice of wallpaper.

(Y/N) leaned against the back of her couch, hands gripping it as she gazed up at Flip, “Always bad news first.” He wanted to reach out and smooth the little pucker between her brows.

“Well, looks like the whole neighbourhood is experiencing an outage, no lights-not even the street lights.”

She sighed heavily, “Great, so not something that can be fixed right now-meaning I woke you up for nothing.” Dropping her head into her hands, he heard her give a little grunt of despair.

Flip smiled down at her, amused. If only she knew he couldn’t sleep anyway. “The good news is nothing is wrong with your breaker. And now that I’m here we can get you set up for the night so you don’t freeze. It’ll probably be out for a while.”

She peered up at Flip through her fingers, eyes assessing his grin. “You’re not annoyed with me?”

Flip forced himself not to step closer to her, “No, darling. Now, let’s get a fire going.”

They worked in silence, the only sound the distant rain and occasional blasts of wind. Flip stacked the firewood, thankful her fireplace was large, while (Y/N) laid out the newspaper strips and kindling for him. Once he had the fire roaring, Flip assessed the room.  

The comfortable looking couch was set back from the fireplace, a coffee table in the centre. Standing, he dragged the table out of the way before coming to the couch and pulling it toward the fire. It took a minute, as it was a heavy son of a bitch, but after some finessing he was satisfied it was close enough without being unsafe for her to sleep on and keep warm. He’d wanted to avoid having her sleep on the floor.

While he’d been moving the furniture, (Y/N) had disappeared. He took a moment to survey the setup, then bent over the fire and took the poker to adjust the logs. She returned several minutes later, pillows and blankets in her arms. She dropped them over the back of the couch, then glanced up and met Flip‘s eyes. She paused, standing nervously, hands twisting together absentmindedly. “Um. Can I get you anything? Milk? Water?”

Flip probably should just thank her and make his way home, he’d done what he could for her. He could easily leave now. Instead, he nodded, “Milk would be nice, thanks.” Spinning around, she hurried away to her kitchen, leaving Flip alone again. He considered his next moves. He could just drink the milk in one gulp and then go home. Only...he wanted to stay. Even if just for a short while. The thought of spending time with (Y/N) that wasn’t during their drives to and from work thrilled him. It couldn't hurt to stay a little longer.

He settled himself on the ground, leaning his back against the couch and crossing his legs comfortably. The warmth from the fire was welcome; it was chilly inside her place.

(Y/N) reappeared, padding across the carpeting, “Here you go,” Handing him his glass, Flip took it and watched as she joined him on the floor, copying his pose so that her knee touched his leg. His heart rate increased.

He grabbed one of the larger blankets and carefully settled it over their laps. They sat in silence for several minutes, each watching the fire dance before them as they sipped their drinks. Flip heaved a sigh of content. “Always loved a good fire.” He admitted, smiling down at her.

“Mmm, me too. Listen, Flip,” Turning to face him, he saw her mouth pressed into a thin line. She tucked her legs back and propped one arm onto the couch. Flip met her gaze steadily, prepared for her to apologize. “I’m really sorr-“

Flip shook his head, cutting her off, “I’m glad you called. I don’t mind, and I can tell you’re more upset than you’re saying.”

Her eyes dropped, looking down into her drink before taking a sip. “I-I’m not a fan of the dark. Silly, I know.” She gave a little laugh that didn’t suit her. Flip could sense she was uncomfortable, tired and still cold. He hated to see her looking so self-conscious, unhappy. It lit something within him that was almost animalistic in its intensity.

“It’s not silly, (Y/N). I don’t like it much myself.” He replied, taking another drink of his milk, finishing it off. “You need to stop apologizing to me all the time, haven’t I told you I could never be upset with you?” When would she start to believe him? He gave her a reassuring smile while his hands gripped the empty glass, attempting to keep himself from reaching out to tuck her hair back or stroke her cheek.

The light of the fire revealed the way her cheeks flushed deliciously at his words, and suddenly she was looking everywhere but at Flip.

“I want you to know, Flip,” (Y/N) shifted, mirroring his position by gripping the glass she held, “You mean the world to me, and I’m thankful every day to...to call you my best friend. You take such good care of me, never make me feel bad...always know what I need,” Her words were rushing out, soft and breathless as she stared down into her drink, “Most men would have probably just told me to start a fire and go back to bed, but you just come straight over and-“ She gestured around to make her point. Slowly, her eyes moved up and met his gaze.

Flip turned her words over in his head, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. To stall for time, he reached over and took her glass from her hands. Setting both on the floor behind him, he came to a decision. Conceding to the desire to touch her, he took her small hands into his own. He ran his thumbs across the soft skin of her wrists, relishing in the contact.

“I like taking care of you, darling. You do so much for me and give yourself no credit. You worry every time you need something yourself,” He searched her eyes as he spoke, wanting to catch any expression that passed through them, “I like spending time with you. Making sure you’re safe, and I-well, you’re my best friend, I’d do anything for you.” He broke off when a hot tear slipped down her cheek and onto the back of his hand.

Her eyes were a storm of emotions as she looked at Flip, tears leaking out, her lips quivering. His whole chest tightened as he watched her. He automatically released her hands, raising his to cup her face. He brushed his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the tears gently, before meeting her gaze again.

The air in the room seemed to evaporate around them. Electricity shot through Flip’s entire body, and he couldn’t have said who moved first, just that one moment he was looking from her (y/e/c) eyes to her lips, and then their lips pressed together. Flip felt like he’d burst into flames, and he gasped at the sensation.

(Y/N)’s hands had moved up from her lap, now holding the collar of Flip’s sweater and pulling him closer as they kissed. He gripped her face, fingers in her hair, nearly moaned at how soft her lips were against his. Instinctively, his tongue swiped across them, and she responded by parting them, allowing him to slip inside her mouth. He groaned loudly at the overwhelming taste of her, of the heat of her mouth. He'd never tasted anything so fucking perfect.

When she whimpered loudly, it caught Flip entirely off guard. Though heat pulsed straight to his core at the sound, it brought him back into his mind and he jerked back suddenly, breaking the kiss.

(Y/N) hadn’t been expecting his sudden movement, so when Flip had pulled back and her grip on his shirt didn’t loosen, she only ended up falling into him. Her eyes peered up at him, pupils blown and cheeks flushed as she leaned into his chest. She panted, “Wha-?”

Flip was trying to catch his breath, to clear his head. He’d just kissed his best friend. They were alone in her house and they had kissed, and the entire situation was terrifying to him.

He didn’t think he could stop if they kept going.

“I’m sorry, I-fuck, pretty girl, do you know what you do to me?” He growled, his hands still holding her face. Her eyes widened further as he spoke. “Do you realize how much I love you? How fucking perfect you are?”

She was trembling uncontrollably, “Flip, fuck I-did you say you love me?” Shock crossed her face, her mouth falling open into an ‘o’ shape as she processed what he’d said.

Damn it all, he thought. It’s out now. “Are you kidding me? Sweetest, most beautiful woman I ever met.” He huffed, never looking away, “(Y/N), I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you came out of that bathroom, afraid of that damn spider. Keep falling harder every day. You drive me crazy, pretty girl.”

His heart was in his stomach and his mouth had gone dry, but it felt good to admit it out loud, to tell her about the feelings he’d been holding back for so long. She was silent for a long moment, just staring at Flip in complete disbelief. He braced for whatever she was going to say, promising himself that he wouldn’t regret ever telling her the truth, even though his heart might burst right out of his chest.

He hadn’t expected her reaction; when her mind seemed to catch up with itself and the surprise disappeared from her face, replaced by something that had Flip catch his breath. And then her lips were on his again. She was released his collar to push her hands into his hair, whimpering as she pressed her body against his in a frantic flurry of motion.  

Flip, though caught off guard, wasted no time in returning the fervour of her kiss, deepening it by sliding one hand further into her hair and pressing her face into his. He licked into her hot mouth eagerly, enjoying the little moans and whimpers that slipped out of her as she kissed him back. After a moment, he dropped the hand that wasn’t woven into her soft locks and gripped her waist, tugging her closer. (Y/N) moved, swinging a leg over his lap and straddling him fully.

“Fuck,” He growled when her hips, settled right where he wanted her, ground into him, desperately seeking friction. “Pretty girl.”

Another whimper, “Love it when you call me that, Flip.” She tugged his hair and Flip groaned again, his entire body on fucking fire for this woman. Did she truly not realize the effect she had on him?

He released his hold on her and slid both hands under her sweater, ghosting across her soft stomach as he continued to pepper kisses onto her cheeks, her jaw, down her neck. His hands climbed higher, brushing the undersides of her breasts, his dick twitching as he realized she wore no bra beneath the bulky sweater. He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, to suck and bite marks into her skin as she moaned for more, but he needed to make sure, absolutely sure, she wanted this.

With a great effort, he pulled away, his hands stilling on her bare waist, and said her name. Before he could say more, she was cutting him off, eyes bright.

“You big, grumpy man. My rough, tough detective. I love you too,” She ground her hips down again, pulling a growl from deep within Flip. Combined with her words, the effects had Flip slowly coming undone, his clear mind fogging up with thoughts of her, her body, her pleasure. “I wanted to tell you, but I was so afraid of losing you. I think about you all the time, did you know that, Flip? Do you know I lay in my bed every night and picture you? Touch myself and it only takes a minute to-“

“Fuck,” He thundered, interrupting her and kissing her again, “Just tell me what you want-I’ll give you anything, everything. Tell me it’s okay-“

“I need you, Flip. I’m yours and I need you,” She accented the words with another swirl of her hips, Flip’s cock now straining against his sweatpants painfully, “Fuck me all night and stay in the morning, Flip.”

His heart filling with joy, Flip had heard what he needed. The next moments were spent frantically undressing one another-first her sweater; Flip’s eyes on her delicious tits as they bounced around while she stood and shimmied her pyjamas and underwear off. He drank in her beautiful, perfect body, all soft curves and flushed skin, as he kicked off his pants.

“Come here, pretty girl,” He rasped, pulling her back into his lap and groaning when her heat skimmed across his cock as she settled. Flip smoothed a hand up her back, bracing her carefully, and then lifted himself, rolling them so that her body lay on the blanket beneath them, her hair fanned out around her. “Fuck, you are so beautiful. Gonna taste you, okay?”

She whimpered her permission as he began his journey downward, taking his time to suck marks into her skin that he would lave over with his tongue to soothe. His hands found their way to her breasts and began to pinch and squeeze, rolling the peaks between a thumb and finger and groaning against her skin when she cried out in pleasure at the sensation.

“Oh god, Flip!” She moaned loudly when he took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue moving over it before he switched to her other breast. His hands slid to her hips, stilling their attempts to seek out the friction he was thus denying her. He trailed his tongue down her stomach, lowered himself to the ground between her legs and kissed the sensitive skin of her thighs, leaving more marks. He felt his cock protesting between his body and the floor but ignored it when he came face to face with her slick centre, already glistening for him. Framed with trimmed, soft curls, it was the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen.

“So fucking wet already, barely even touched you,” Massaging her thighs, he tilted his head up and met her eyes over the swell of her breasts. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Now put your hands in my hair while I taste this perfect fucking cunt.”

Her hands had barely threaded through his locks before his tongue was licking a long strip from the bottom up. Flip watched in delight as her entire body jerked in response, her head dropping to the floor, back arching. A long, low moan escaped her, and then he dove in.

Flip hummed at her taste, perfectly sweet and entirely her, turning him on even more. He licked everything, sucked on her sensitive clit until her legs began to shake, and then repeated it all over again. Occasionally breaking away to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and revelling in the way she cried out his name each time. He never wanted to stop.

More of her juices flowed for him as time passed, as he edged her closer to her peak and then eased her back, teasing her without remorse. He wanted to hear her beg for more.  He wasn’t disappointed when, after pulling away the third time, her head popped up, “Flip, please, please let me cum. I fucking need to cum, you’re so perfect, I’m so close I can’t,” She broke off with a desperate whine.

Flip grinned, “Love hearing you beg for me, pretty girl,” He slid two fingers inside of her dripping heat at the same moment he wrapped his lips around her clit. He heard her head hit the floor as she screamed out, obscenities, his name, incomprehensible whines. He only had to thrust his fingers three times, curling them up each time they sunk into her before she came undone.

He was enraptured by the sight of her orgasm, the way her body jerked and tightened, her hands pulling his hair viciously as his name spilled from her lips. He worked her through the crest of her pleasure, humming against her to draw it out and drinking down everything she gave him. He thought he could die a happy man right there, drowning in her.

“Flip, fucking hell!” She cried out one final time, her cunt clenching around him when she became over sensitive to his ministrations. He eased back, kissing her thighs and licking gently at her folds as she came down, her hands dropping from his hair. He could have stayed there for hours, but his cock was protesting. Carefully moving, he brought his body up and lay over top of her, bracing himself on his elbows to keep his weight off of her as she caught her breath.

Flip growled at the sight of her blissed-out expression and kissed her hungrily, sloppily. She moaned, tasting herself on his lips. He leaned back up after a moment, “You still with me, pretty girl?” He gazed at her in concern, hoping he hadn't gone too hard.

A goofy smile split her face, “I’ve never cum that hard in my entire life, Flip Zimmerman. I’m pretty sure I’m on another plain right now.” He laughed, nuzzled her neck and ground his hips down, pressing his cock onto her thigh.

“You feel what you do to me?” His voice was low, “Been thinking about you for fucking months. Every day, all day, it’s just you. ”

“Flip,” (Y/N)‘s voice was breathless beneath him, her hands back in his hair, “Please, need you inside me right now, need to feel you stre-oh FUCK!”

He had slammed into her at her words, unable to hold back a moment longer. Splitting her open until he bottomed out, and then he stilled, panting, and checked in on her again. She was deliciously, dangerously tight around him, her walls already fluttering. She was crying out but nodding, seemingly unable to form words but wanted to convey to him that he could move.

“Good girl, just tell me if it’s too much. If this,” He slammed down again, earning another yelp, “is too much.” And then he began to pump, one arm braced on the ground while the other gripped her hip. He thrust into her wet cunt mercilessly, his eyes always on her face, watching for any change, any indication that she was in pain, but he saw only pleasure. Her screams only drove him on, encouraging him to move harder, to take what she so wanted him to and make her his. It was the best sex of his life, and Flip never wanted it to end.

When he felt himself getting close, he slowed his pace, kissed her once again, and then pulled back. Her heavy eyes watched as Flip, still deep inside of her, came to kneel and then he lifted her hips, adjusting her legs to one side, arms hooking under them. The new angle already had her whimpering before he began to move. She was so tight around him; he could see himself buried to the hilt inside of her and groaned at the perfect, obscene sight.

“Just,” He could barely speak, he was so turned on, “Tap my hand, if it’s too much, darling.” He knew she would tell him if she needed him to go easier, but he needed her to know she was safe with him, that her pleasure was the most important thing to him.

“Fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuck-“

With a roar, he was moving, his hips beginning a brutal pace now that he had the leverage of being on his knees. Her hands twisted into the blanket, tits bouncing as Flip hugged her legs and fucked into her as deep as he could. He repeated her name over and over, the only other sounds in the house that of skin hitting skin, the hot, wet noises her cunt made as she took his length, and her cries for more, harder, for him.

He felt her tightening around him after a short time, walls fluttering and getting wetter as he drove his hips into that spot over and over, unrelenting. “Going to cum for me, pretty girl?”

“I, fuck, Flip, I’m so close-you’re fucking filling me up oh god...”

“Cum, it’s okay, cum for me, please.”

As if waiting for him to ask, she instantly seized up at his words, and Flip almost went over the edge right there when her pussy clamped hard, her body jerking as the wave broke, and her pleasure peaked. He focused, holding off his own orgasm to chase her through hers, to drag it out until tears were in her eyes. His movements became sloppy, only slowing when he felt her begin to relax.

He had briefly wondered if he could keep himself on the edge, try to get another orgasm out of her. But then her voice cut through the air, firmer than it had been all night, and derailed his train of thought.

“Flip, please cum inside me, please, need your cum, please.”

“Fuck, fuck!” He cried out, slamming himself one, two, three more times, her words pulling him over, over, right off of the cliff and into oblivion. He kept his hips moving as he emptied himself inside of her, “Sweet girl, take it, fucking take it all.” Flip moaned, pumping every last drop of his seed with lazy thrusts, (Y/N) whimpering at the sensation of being filled. He had never cum like that in his entire life.

Though tempted to collapse, Flip was cautious as he lowered himself, kissing her stomach, breasts, neck, and then meeting her lips again. His tongue licked her mouth once more before he gripped her waist and rolled them. Now he lay on the floor with (Y/N) on top of him, head on his chest. Her walls still clenched around his cock. They both panted, catching their breath in comfortable silence.

Flip was clutching (Y/N), one hand rubbing gently into her lower back. His thoughts were thundering back, though they were happy. The realization of what had changed in the last two hours was making his heart swell in his chest. With their more primal needs satiated, his mind wandered. Because while that had been the best sex of his life, it was far outshone by the fact that his best friend had told him she was in love with him, too.

Flip grinned, and (Y/N) lifted her head to meet his eyes when she felt his movements.

“Happy with yourself, detective?” She panted, returning his grin with her best smile. Flip grabbed her waist and gently pulled her up, a little groan escaping each of them when his cock slipped out of her. Now level, Flip was able to lean up and kiss her, a chaste peck.

“Pretty girl, you’re the hottest fucking woman on this planet,” His voice was gruff from overexertion, “I feel like the luckiest man.” He continued, earning a happy little giggle.

“You say that like you didn’t just make me cum twice like it was easy.”

“Darling, I can make you cum all night if I want to. Just say the words.” He kissed her forehead softly.

A little whimper escaped before she could catch it. “Not saying I’m against the idea, but I need to use the ladies' room.” She made to get up but Flip held her tighter, stopping her. He wasn’t ready to be apart from her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, not anymore.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered. He repositioned her as he sat up, leading her legs to wrap around him and her arms to circle his neck. (Y/N) bit her lip as she let Flip raise them both from the floor, his hands sliding down to sink into the flesh of her bottom, holding her up. He carried her to the bathroom, kissing her between following her directions to the blue-tiled room.

He set her down on the toilet, then turned to the sink, squinting in the dark. One candle lit the room, and once his eyes adjusted he saw the neatly folded wash clothes on the vanity. He turned on the water and, knowing it would be cold, wet the cloth quickly before taking it to briefly wipe himself. He rinsed it and turned to (Y/N), who was still sitting on the toilet, her eyes following his every move.

“Did you pee?” Smiling at her comfortingly when she shied away from the question, “Pretty girl, let me take care of you.” He brushed his hand across her cheek affectionately.

“I did, yes.” She murmured. Flip nodded, then pushed her legs apart. Taking great care to be gentle, he ran the cool cloth along her folds. Ensuring to only move in one direction. She sighed in content as he cleaned her up.

Tossing the cloth into the sink, Flip picked her up again and moved them back to the living room. “You ever going to let me walk again?” She joked, clutching him close as he settled them down onto the couch. (Y/N) curled against him, one hand threaded in his hair. He reached down and pulled the blanket from the floor, covering their bodies, and kissed the top of her head.

“Meant what I said, darling.” He spoke into the night, his hand trailing up and down her back in soothing motions as the fire continued to warm the room, bathing it in a gentle glow.

The fire illuminated her eyes when she looked up, “I did too, Flip. And I-I don’t want to be just friends anymore.”

Flip nodded, one hand on her cheek, thumb brushing across the soft skin, “No, pretty girl, neither do I,” He agreed. They exchanged a look then that Flip would remember over everything else that happened during this utterly perfect night.

It sealed the love they’d been expressing that night, a look that told the other, I love you. I’m never leaving. You are everything to me.

“Get some sleep, beautiful. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

She snuggled in at his soothing words, a low moan of content rushing out before she closed her eyes.

For the first time in a long while, (Y/N) and Flip each fell asleep within minutes. Wrapped in one another’s arms, they would stay there until the sun came up.

Flip didn’t even need to dream that night.

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[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight  - Chapter 15: Hiccup

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4300

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Since it’s been ages... Previously on Fight or Flight - Hana had learned that Barthelemy and Godfrey were working with Auvernal from Kiara, but Liam didn’t seem motivated to take much action regarding that fact. Leo had gotten money and belongings to Riley, who shared an intimate moment with Drake when she returned to their hotel.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Liam let out a sigh as he changed the channel back to CBC. He needed to be actively watching, probably should be taking notes, in all honesty. This hour of programming consisted of discussion with three of the most connected political pundits in the country. It was the easiest and most reliable way to get a feel for the leanings of both the journalists and the common citizens, and it aired every weekday, so it was far more up to date than waiting for the biweekly polling.

The issue was that the panelists were revelling in the recent turn of events with such glee. It was understandable, he supposed. This was the most exciting political turn of events this country had seen in centuries. It put the mild speculation that he was Bridget’s biological father, a rumor had surfaced around the time of his announcement that Drake and Riley’s child would be heir and had briefly flared again at Bridget’s first public appearance when people had seen that she indeed looked like a child with some East Asian heritage, to shame. This wasn’t just baseless gossip and stirring the pot to increase ratings. This was true turmoil, plain and simple. There was a relative unknown carrying the power of the Crown, the current Queen-regent had been “kidnapped” and not seen in weeks, citizens were protesting daily, and this was all expected to last for months until the Conclave, where all the tension and drama would culminate in a vote among the five major noble houses to name a new monarch. The journalists and talking heads had a seemingly endless feast in front of them. All of it at his expense.

He took another sip of his scotch as he tried to focus on the screen ahead of him. If he could figure out how to gain a majority of the public’s support, then he could apply some pressure to Kiara and Landon prior to the Conclave vote. Not that he was naive enough to think that would be enough to assure that he would regain his title, but at least it would be one more piece of ammunition in his arsenal.

“The protests outside of the Capital aren’t going to be as easily quieted as the ones in Valtoria, Victor,” Francine Giorano stated, leaning forward and gesturing across the table to Victor Blussé. Blussé was the moderate on the panel, while Giorano was a staunch traditionalist. “They have had fears about the role the essentially-American Walkers played in our government for years, and look how right those fears turned out to be.”

“How is any of this the Walkers’ fault, Francine? This can all be traced to Barthelemy Beaumont!”

“The Conventus Nobilis was written into our foundational laws for a reason, Victor,” chimed in Willa Hyllop, the final member of the panel, added to the program in the past year to bring in a more modern, pro-democratic viewpoint.

“Surely you aren’t saying you are on the side of Beaumont, Willa! He represents an even less progressive faction than Liam Rys ever did.”

“I may not agree with everything he stands for, but I will always support measures that place some checks and accountability on our monarchy,” said Hyllop with a shrug. “Besides, the fact that Rys surrounded himself with yes-men and granted titles and appointments on the basis of friendship since he ascended the throne did little to convince me that he was the ‘progressive king’ he swore he was. He was more of the same, just without the aggressive rhetoric of his father.”

“And look how that turned out! Lest we forget, he stood by while Auvernal brought warships to our shore last year,” added Giorano.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Giorano and Hyllop were never on the same page about anything, and here they were, agreeing that he had been an ineffectual king. He tuned out Blussé’s response, knowing that some lukewarm rebuttal from him was going to do little to bolster his confidence. The fact was simple - his fall from grace was widespread. There were few left who saw him as worthy of the title of king. He had failed, completely and entirely.

 “Liam?” Olivia’s voice cut over the television. 

Liam opened his eyes to find her staring at him from the lounge’s doorway, a frown cutting across her face. He forced a smile as he gestured for her to join him. “Just taking a little break from hearing how incompetent I am.”

Olivia’s green eyes narrowed at his poor attempt at humor, but she strode over to him, joining him on the couch, undoubtedly taking in the blank notepad, the untouched stacks of documents, and the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. “Well, that’s the perception we’re going to have to work to change.”

He tipped his head to rest along the back of the couch, sighing as he did so. “I know, Liv. It just seems so impossible at the moment.”

She didn’t say anything for several excruciating seconds. He rolled his head to the side, taking in her face, concerned eyes boring into him as she slid a hand around her neck, her blood-red nails digging into her skin. “We’ve got months still, Liam. Calling our goal impossible is premature.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m all ears if you have any recommendations for where to start.”

“Well, I got confirmation that Landon and Emmeline’s driver is loyal to us, so Ray is going to approach him at the Derby this weekend to see if he might be willing to earn a little extra cash by divulging some secrets. And their new head of kitchen has a brother with significant gambling debts, so that’s another lead worth pursuing.”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

“Now, as far as next steps for you, I was hoping you might give reporters a few minutes for questions before the derby.”

Liam swallowed, his brain scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, against her suggestion, when his phone vibrated on the table, the name “Bastien” flashing across the screen.

“Why is he calling you?” Olivia asked. All Liam could do was shrug as he leaned forward, grabbing his phone and swiping to accept the call.

“Bastien?”

“I don’t have long,” he started, not even taking the time for a greeting. “I don’t know if you are in touch with Drake, but if you are, you need to let him know that they need to get out of Athens.”

“What are you-”

“Rashad is negotiating with Greek authorities right now to allow the King’s Guard to be the ones to make the arrest. We are waiting on the tarmac for clearance to fly to Athens.”

“How-”

“He’s requesting Greek surveillance of their hotel until we get there. They need to leave now.”

“Bastien, what-”

“I have to go.” And then, the line was dead.

Liam sat there, numb and frozen, trying to process the slew of information that had just been dumped into his lap by his former head of security. 

“What the hell is going on?” Olivia’s voice drew him out of his daze, prompting him to set down his phone on the couch, digging frantically through the stacks of papers.

“I need my burner.” He heard his voice as if he were an outsider observer. It was thin and shaky, frail and panicked. His hands shook as he felt around the table in front of him, knocking over a pile containing reproductions of the accounts of the last Conclave, dozens of papers spilling onto the floor.

“Liam, what the fuck did he tell you?”

“They know where they are. We have to warn them.” All his frustrations and pain related to Drake and Riley suddenly felt so petty, so ridiculous. The stakes were higher for them, always had been higher for them. They were about to get arrested over wanting to keep custody of their daughter. And while they left him to fend for himself, left Cordonia in a state of political upheaval, he knew that was a price that was wildly unfair.

“Who knows where they are? Rashad?”

“Yes,” said Liam, shoving more and more documents around the table. Where was his burner?

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know! Where the fuck is it?” Liam swiped his arm across the table, books and papers flying, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room as his scotch tumbled to the ground.

A strong set of fingers with sharp red nails slid around his wrist, holding him still. He took a rough breath as he turned to face Olivia, who was eyeing him as she tugged her own burner out of her pocket, only breaking his gaze to glance down at the screen, tapping three times before holding it to her ear and looking back at Liam.

The few seconds of silence on her end were maddening, but then she was speaking, her voice curt and all business. “Drake, authorities are coming. You gotta go. Now.”

Liam tried to rein in his rapid breathing, tried to calm his heart rate down to something more human. “The King’s Guard is flying into Athens. They are leaving now. Rashad asked for Greek surveillance until-” but Olivia nodded at him, cutting him off.

“I don’t know how. But your hotel is about to be under Greek surveillance until the King’s Guard arrives, so you guys have to get moving. Good luck.” She hung up at that, letting out a massive sigh. “Shit,” she breathed out after a few seconds, her eyes bouncing back and forth before she slammed them shut, clearly planning and preparing.

Liam felt her fingers trembling around his wrist for just a second, but then she let go. She pushed herself off the couch with a flourish. “Find your burner. I’m gonna make some calls, but we need to destroy any evidence that we were in contact with them,” she said, nearly jogging towards the door.

“Olivia…”

She spun around and let out a little breath before walking back towards the couch. Her hand settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze as she gave him a nod. “We warned them as soon as we could, but we need to be the ones worried about the big picture right now. And things will only be worse for them if you and I are arrested, right?”

All he could do was nod. She was 100 percent correct.

“Okay, so find your burner. I’ll be back in a little bit, Liam.” And with that, she was off, a woman on a mission, leaving him sitting there, shaking on the couch, just trying to find his footing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hana shook hands with the final citizen, a woman in her late 40s who had been born and raised in Valtoria.

“Thank you so much, Your Grace,” she said, smiling as she returned the handshake.

“Of course. Just because our country is going through a period of transition doesn’t mean that I am going to ignore the needs of Valtoria’s citizens.”

The woman thanked her again before turning and exiting the formal dining room, the location Hana had chosen for the first Citizen Open Forum she’d scheduled. The large table provided ample seating, but the room was close enough to the main entrance to make it unlikely that anyone could wander into private areas of the estate without being caught by staff. 

Olivia had been irritated when Hana had told her she was opening up the estate to the public. “You are giving Barthelemy’s people free access,” she told her. But Hana knew that she couldn’t just sidestep her duties as a duchess. Not only would that weaken people’s perception of Liam by association, but morally she just couldn’t do that. The country was in such turmoil because of a few members of the nobility trying to wrest power from some other nobles. For her citizens to be left neglected due to the whims of the highly privileged was ethically something she couldn’t allow to happen. So she’d hosted the forum, hearing directly from Valtoria’s residents what she should prioritize to improve their lives, but made sure to instruct her staff to notify her immediately if anyone was caught wandering too far from the dining room or bathroom. It was the best she felt she could do under the circumstances.

However, the last citizen had now vacated the estate, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. It had gone well, she thought. She had clear budgetary priorities to request at the upcoming meeting between the social season’s derby and the stop in Lythikos. Plus, one of the leaders of the protesters in front of the estate had come, and conversation with him had been productive. Obviously, she couldn’t outright tell him that she wished she could be right out there with them, carrying a sign that said “She’s their kid,” but he had given her a knowing smile when she told him she saw no reason to intervene when Cordonia citizens were just exercising a right to free speech. He had all but promised her that the protests would stay peaceful and would not target her for her assumption of the role of Duchess of Valtoria.

As she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She turned on the tap to fill the kettle with one hand as she moved to answer the call with the other.

“Olivia, how are you?” she asked, watching the kettle fill.

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?”

Hana frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear and swiping the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls, Olivia.”

“Not this phone. I’ve called you no less than ten times.”

She turned off the tap and set the full kettle on the counter, a nagging thread of anxiety and fear worming its way into her heart with that statement. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

Hana spun around, finding the remote laying on the island and turning on the television mounted in the eat-in nook.

“-these exclusively obtained photos show a woman who appears to be the former duchess, Riley Walker, conversing with the former Crown Prince, Leo Rys, at a bar in Athens.”

The screen filled with a low-quality image, clearly zoomed in several times. The lighting was a sort of orange color, and the faces were grainy and fuzzy, but there was Riley, although her hair was clearly dyed a much lighter color. Leo’s face was only seen in profile, not as identifiable, but he was obviously talking to her. The screen changed to a new photo, Leo a bit more recognizable in this one, passing Riley something.

“Oh no,” said Hana, leaning against the counter.

“-clear evidence of collusion between the former Crown Prince and Riley Walker, who has been charged with treason and kidnapping of the monarch,” the anchor droned on, but Olivia’s response drowned out the quiet volume of the television.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So what was so pressing that you were ignoring your burner?”

“I had the forum with the citizens, and I thought if I was carrying two cell phones, that might-”

A massive groan from Olivia cut her off. “Whatever. Well, you need to destroy your burner. Now.”

“But what about Riley and-”

“I warned them. Hopefully they are able to get out of Athens, but nothing else we can do there. It’s time to protect ourselves.”

“Olivia, what-”

“I gotta go check on Liam. Destroy the phone, Hana. And don’t call me.”

“Why can’t I-”

“-Liam is definitely going to be questioned since Leo is now known to be involved. We can talk at the derby, but if they start monitoring our phone records, I don’t want to give them any reason to think we are scheming.”

Before Hana could as much as tell Olivia she understood, she heard the line click dead. Taking a few seconds for some calming breaths, she centered herself before she climbed the stairs to her quarters, a pit of dread cementing itself firmly in her stomach with each step. She reached her room and opened the top drawer of her dresser, pulling the burner phone out from underneath her nylons. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed notifications from Olivia, and a couple from Maxwell as well. Well, she knew what those were regarding. No need to deal with them at this point. Instead, she walked over to her dressing table and grabbed her manicure kit.

She wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, taking in the quiet and calm. It was odd; the estate probably had more people in it currently than it had for most of the time Riley and Drake had lived there. Hana didn’t feel compelled to aggressively minimize the staff presence like they had, far more used to having employees around from her upbringing. But staff were expected to be as discreet and silent as possible, to make themselves scarce, particularly in the private quarters. 

No one had ever called Riley quiet. There was a certain vibrancy she brought to any room, and her voice and laughter were always echoing through the halls. And even though Drake wasn’t the most talkative, he certainly would quip, snark, and joke in the privacy of his own home. Of course, once Bridget was born, there was more noise and energy and life than ever before. Now, it was just Hana and the corgis. The estate felt hollow and soulless.

Once in the lounge, Hana shut the door behind her firmly. Anderson glanced up, but quickly draped his head back over Vera, all the dogs curled up on their giant cushion in the corner. Hana knew that the maids had cleaned the lounge yesterday, so she was unlikely to be found there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and pried the cover off the back of her phone using her cuticle pusher. All the electronic components stared up at her, ready for her to do her worst. But before she could bring herself to kill the only connection she had to her best friend, she flipped the phone over and sent one last message to Riley.

I love you all. Stay safe. I’ll find a way to get in touch when I can.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the phone back over. She spent the next 15 minutes prying off motherboards and any chips and cards she could find, dropping them one by one into her container of acetone nail polish remover. Then, she removed the battery before placing the remaining elements into the fireplace. She would just have to store the battery under her floorboards until she could figure out how to safely dispose of it. 

She started a fire, then curled up on the couch, tugging a quilt over her lap as she watched her only connection to the first person to show her unconditional love melt and warp, eventually turning to ash. Tears started trailing down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse and the quilt, but she didn’t care. She was devastated - for herself, for her found family, and for her country. At some point, Anderson jumped up to join her, nestling in against her legs.

“I miss them so much,” she said, dropping a hand to the top of his head. “So, so much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Bridget was wailing in her crib, but Riley didn’t have time to calm her. She needed to pack. Now.

When Drake had called her, she knew something bad was happening. He’d left with their passports this afternoon to take them to a cousin of a friend of someone Drake had met at the restaurant, someone who was supposed to be able to help with fake documents and forgeries. The plan had been to change their names and their country of origin, allowing them to catch a flight to the States without getting stopped at the airport. The final destination once there hadn’t been decided. Drake had wanted to go to Texas, but Leona’s presence scared Riley. She had already sold out their safety for a quick payday once before.

But that debate was a moot point now. So was the uncertainty about this unknown forger on whom they were relying. Drake had called, frantic and alarmed, clearly running and somewhat out of breath as he spoke to her. Telling her Olivia had called to warn them they were about to be arrested. Telling her to pack. Telling her they needed to run.

So Bridget was unceremoniously dumped into her travel crib as Riley tried to shove everything into the duffel bags from Leo. She knew she should leave the impractical things, like the framed photos, but those would incriminate their friends. So they had to come with. Toiletries seemed essential, too. Some of the clothes were going to have to get left behind. Some of the toys as well. She had to be able to carry everything in one trip. She had to get to the car as quickly as possible. 

She knew it had probably been less than five minutes since Drake had called, but it felt like she was moving too slowly, taking way too long. Drake hadn’t given her any sort of time frame. Who knew if Olivia had even given him one. But for all she knew, police were rounding the corner, waiting for her in the hallway, about to burst through the hotel door. So she shoved and crammed and squeezed everything she could into the duffel bags and the diaper bag. Those would go over her shoulders, the crib would collapse and go in one arm, Bridget in the other. That would have to be good enough. 

Once she was sure that the bags were as full as they could be, she pulled Bridget out, placing her on the floor as she scrambled to collapse the crib, fumbling with the locking mechanism for just a few seconds before it folded in on itself, allowing her to tuck it into her elbow. By some mad miracle, Bridget was hanging close by, not trying to crawl away to explore and cause trouble. Maybe she was frightened by the way Riley was acting. Regardless, it was a blessing.

Knowing she was as ready as she was going to be, she loaded everything up and grabbed Bridget, pausing just briefly to juggle their possessions as she opened the door. She didn’t bother closing it behind her, just moved as quickly as she could with her load down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and around the corner to the street where their car was parked. No one tried to stop her or talk to her, so she took the time to toss everything on the ground and properly latch Bridget into her car seat. Then, she threw everything in the hatchback before climbing into the passenger’s seat and locking the doors behind her. Bridget continued to cry, but there was little Riley could do to comfort her at this point. All that was left to do was wait for Drake.

Drake had told her to meet him in the car, but she didn’t like feeling exposed, sitting where anyone could see her during broad daylight. Add to that the fact that she was in the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t even be able to make a quick getaway if need be. Her piss-poor driving skills were just one more area where she was making their life harder, but there was no way to fix that right now. All she could do was hang tight. She was contemplating what in the car she could use as a weapon if it came down to it when her phone buzzed. She swiped to answer instantly when she saw it was Drake’s number.

“Drake, where are you?”

“Around the corner from the hotel. You in the car?”

“Yeah. How did-” but before she could get her question out, she saw Drake through the driver’s side window. She let out a little yelp of surprise before reaching over and unlocking the door, handing him the keys as soon as he sat down. 

He didn’t even bother to say anything, just started the car and eased off the clutch as he shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road. Bridget quieted soon after they got moving, but Riley didn’t feel any better as the yelling and screaming subsided. She just stared at Drake, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, his neck and shoulders so tense and coiled, he looked ready to burst.

“Where are we going?” she finally chanced asking.

Drake shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road. “I don’t know. Out of Athens.”

“Then why are we making so many turns?”

“Don’t know if we were being watched or followed. Gotta lose anyone who might be tailing us.” His voice was clipped and frayed. He sounded about five seconds away from losing it completely. Riley wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way. But she didn’t want to distract him, both from driving and from the tiny amount of control he had over his emotional response to everything that was unfolding. After all, they weren’t safe yet. So she just nodded and grabbed her phone off her lap.

“I’ll pull up some maps, okay?”

He nodded and let out a rough breath at that. “Thanks, Walker,” he said before flipping on the radio. “Can you try and find us a news station?”

“Drake, I won’t-”

“I’ll translate.”

And so they were off, unsure where or how far they needed to go to be safe. All they could do at this point was keep moving forward.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @octobereighth​ @kimmiedoo5​ @mom2000aggie​

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ @mskaneko​ @axwalker​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30 @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @debramcg1106​ @masterofbluff​  

Drake/MC:  @no-one-u-know   @iplaydrake​

FoF: @burnsoslow​ @bobasheebaby​

[just-my-fandom]

One After Another (Cisco Ramon x Allen! Reader)

Chapter 2

Part 2; Cicada makes his appearance. Cisco talks about giving up his powers in fear of putting his son in danger after he has to fake his own death. Cicada attacks reader in her home, causing her to go into early labor.

Warning(s); Labor (Which I did not write out since it’s weird for me to write, you’re welcome)

Tag list; @thebloodrobin

Story list; Chapter 1 , Chapter 3 ,

. . .

Your footsteps take you down the halls of STAR Labs in alert. Caitlin had sent a startled call revealing a new meta had attacked not just Barry, but Ralph and Cisco, and Cisco had been injured to where his powers were lost.

Your breaths are short as you make it to the cortex, one hand at your stomach as the other rested on the door, Dante looking up from where he and Nora sat at the control panel, “Mom,”

“Where’s your father?” You heave, Dante standing to gesture to Caitlins lab, your figure moving past him and into said lab with sore feet,

“This is definitely Dark Matter, but these levels of concentration are unlike any dark matter levels I’ve seen before,” Caitlin steps back upon your arrival, her eyes moving causing Cisco to look up from his wrapped hands, face relaxing when he sees you,

“What the hell happened?” You demand, moving in front of Cisco to take one of his hands, staring down at where the palm had been patched,

“I’m okay,” Cisco reassures, and you look up to his face, eyes narrowed,

“That’s not what I asked, and I know you’re lying,”

His eyebrows flick up testingly, where you- barely- press you finger to his palm, his hand jerking away as he hissed, glaring at you in irritation,

“Ow! Don’t- do that!” He demands, and you mock his eyebrow raise, glancing to Caitlin,

“How bad is it?”

“The cuts are pretty deep. But they should heal in a few weeks, give or take,” She nods, Cisco huffing and drops his hands to rest at your stomach,

“I’ll be fine. I swear,” He assures, where you put your hands overtop his, nodding, lightly,

“Hey guys?” Barry calls, your head turning towards the Cortex so Cisco tapped your stomach with his fingers, letting you step back so he could stand up,

“We have a big problem,” Barry states, pointing to Iris,

“I just talked to Captain Singh and he said that Gridlock was killed during his transport to Iron Heights,”

“Gridlocks dead?” Dante asks, arms crossed as he looks to Nora,

“How?” Caitlin asks,

“Not sure,” Iris sighs, “I interviews everyone that was there and no one knows. But I did some digging...” She nods to the TV screen so you turned, eyes staring at the fallen video camera, followed by heavy breathing,

“What is that?” You ask, shortly, looking to Cisco,

“Sounds like the guy who just attacked us,” Ralph answers, your eyebrows raising in question,

“Attacked you? Is that thing even human?”

“Yes,” Nora nods, turning, “Cicada,”

“Who’s Cicada?”

. . .

“We never catch him?”

“Probably because he can take everyone’s powers with the dagger that basically sliced Cisco’s hand,” You try, Dante nodding,

“So we’re basically dealing with a Jack the Ripper,” Cisco sighs, leaning on the back of your chair, “Amazing,”

“What else do you know about him?” You ask, hand reaching to grasp Cisco’s at your upper arm,

“Just that he...,” Nora pauses, “He’s early,”

“What do you mean, early?” Barry asks,

“In our history, Cicadas first victim was a meta named Floyd Belkin. He never killed Gridlock, or Block, completely different victims,” Dante answers.

“Because the timeline changed,” Barry states

“There’s no telling what kind of effect this made to the timeline, or why kind of future Nora and Dante are going to go back to,” You inform, “We need to catch this Cicada guy, fast,”

“You mean catch the guy future us can’t catch?” Cisco asks, hand pulling from yours to rub at the palm, “Right, I thought beating the thinker was hard,”

. . .

“So your plan is to contact Herr Wells?”

You stand with your hands curled under your stomach, eyes staring at Nora and Dante beside each other, Iris and Barry at their sides,

“I know in the future you guys never bring in a Wells to help you catch Cicada,” Nora nods, “So if you want a different result this time,”

“We try something new,” You nod, Nora glancing at you with a smile,

“It’s a great idea,” Barry shrugs with a grin, and you look over when Cisco steps next to you, eyes on his phone,

“‘Cept it’s not,” He mutters, your brows furrowing as Barry leans to look at him,

“What?”

“It’s a terrible idea,” Cisco looks up from his phone, shaking his head, “If you’re looking for cooperation, trust me, this is not your guy,” He huffs, eyes back on his phone, “He is just an asshat,”

“Don’t be harsh,” You order, Cisco looking at you in disbelief,

“I’m sorry, I’m being harsh?”

“Yes,” You nod, your husband nodding back and gesturing to the communication device on the table

“Go ahead, call him, see if you don’t get a steaming pile of side-eye,”

“You’re being dramatic, Cis,” You shake your head, watching Nora press a few buttons before the hologram of an older Harrison Wells appears, turning with a scoff,

“The Flash,” You hear Cisco scoff next to you,

“Wait for it,”

“I love the Flash,” Herr Wells swoons, and you grin as Barry smiles, “Oh, you Barry Allen, yah? With the zoom, zoom, and the defy the physic laws and gravity, always with some style and Grace, yah,”

“Thanks, man,” Barry laughs, shaking his head,

“Das Kinder Flash,” Herr Wells gasps, hands together as he looks to Nora, “Child of the Flash.”

His eyes quickly move to you, where you smile in greet, “Sister Flash, of course!” He cheers, Cisco looking up from his phone with a glare, “Raving in your natural beauty, carrying a child, no?”

“I am, thank you,” You smile, glancing to Dante, “But, listen, we need your help capturing a meta human serial killer, Cicada?”

“Unfortunately I’m otherwise occupied, unable to assist you at this time,”

“You can’t?” Nora pleas,

“Nein,” Herr answers, shaking his head once, so you frowned in disappointment, “But I have done one better and called someone who can, this man is a legend, this man is the greatest detective in all the Multiverse, so I’ve attached his coordinates if you want to look at them,”

You nod as Nora leans into her computer, “Okay, got them,”

Iris looks up and over at Cisco behind her, eyebrows raised knowingly,

“What? You want me to breach him here?” Cisco snips, holding up his bandaged hands, “Hello? I just got Benihana’d. Hurts a little bit. Why don’t we just breach him here the old fashioned way?”

“Thank you, Herr Wells,” You hand Cisco the small device, smiling brightly, “This is great,”

“Privilege and an honor to help you, Flash, and Sister Flash, bye, Kinder Flash, and, Sister Flash, good luck on baby Flash,” Herr winks to Dante, vanishing from his spot,

“Okay, you know what, let’s just get this master detective out here,” Cisco mumbles, sticking out the extrapolator in front of him so a breach formed, a shadowed figure appearing almost instantly,

Your brows furrow as a Harrison Wells with sunglasses step out, Cisco lowering his arm, “Well,” The Wells starts, pulling off his jacket, “I imagined your earth would be colder. Harrison Sherloque Wells at your service, I’m here to catch your killer,”

. . .

A small hum from the television in front of you begins to lull you asleep. The apartment is empty as Cisco and Dante were both still at the labs, so when you hear the small creak of the floorboards, your body is wide awake and on high alert,

You sit up and glance over your shoulder, eyes slowly scanning the dark kitchen connected to the living room, hoping and praying you wouldn’t spot any movement,

The small, orange glow feet behind you indicates that Cicadas dagger was present, the dagger rising showing that cicada, too, was there,

“Cicada,” You whisper, hand slowly reaching out to your phone next to you, eyes watching as the man stepped forward, into the lighting of the television.

“Where is Vibe?” He asks, questionably, eyes narrowed under his mask as you swallow, free hand under your stomach,

“I don’t know who Vibe is,” You answer, calmly, slowly rising to stand, “I wouldn’t know where he is,”

“Don’t lie!” Cicada jerking forward causes you to push to your feet, knees hitting the coffee table so you stumbled, catching yourself with the wall behind the television, eyes wide in alert, “Tell me where Vibe is, and I might let you live,”

“I don’t know who Vibe is!” You shriek, feeling a tightness in your stomach, “Please, I don’t,”

“You’re going to have a lovely family, Miss Ramon,” Cicada says, lowly, stepping forward as you curl a hand under your stomach, body sinking to squat down, hand clutching your phone to your side, “Id hate to take away your husband, too,”

“Please, I don’t know who Vibe is,” You plea, eyes glimmering with tears. You force your thumb to press the alert button, sniffling as you drop your phone next to you,

Cisco looks over from his goggles at the beep of his phone, his eyes staring at the alert screen before he picks up the device, scanning the pinpointed address before his eyes widen, pushing to stand up and grab his suit,

Barry looks at Iris in alert at his own phone, speeding off so he skid to a stop in the living room of your apartment, your head ducked as you hiccup, “He has Cisco,” You choke out, and look up, “Barry,” Your brother moves forward, sinking down so he saw where your grey leggings were soaked, “My water broke,”

. . .

“Guys,” Barry speeds to a stop in the middle of the cortex, body tilted to hold you up as your hand clutched at your shirt, “Y/Ns going into labor,”

“What?” Barry hears Cisco hiss into his earpiece, Iris looking up from where she leaned over the control panel, “She’s six weeks early!”

“Cicada must have triggered it,” Barry let’s Caitlin- who showed up quickly once Barry first contacted her- move you to her lab, “Cisco, where are you?”

“I don’t know!” Cisco panics, looking around at the trees, “Some forest- is Y/N okay?”

“Caitlins got her,” Iris reassures, “Can you breach here?”

“Have you forgotten that my hands are fucked up?” Cisco shoots back, “God- dammit. Y/N, hold on! I’m coming!”

“I hear field crickets,” Sherloque hums, Barry pinching his brows, ignoring your cry of pain, “I know where he is,” He is quick to speed off, Nora following in quick steps behind him, Dante bouncing on his feet before disappearing, too.

“Okay, Y/N,” Caitlin breathes, hands at your knees as you pinch your eyes shut, opening your eyes to stare at a spot on the ceiling, “You’re ready to start pushing,”

“Without Cisco?” You heave, lifting your head, “How- I can’t, Cait,”

“Y/N, you can,” Your best friend encourages, “And you will. Now I need you to take a deep breath okay? And push with my counts,”

. . .

Despite all the commotion in the cortex, your eyes seem steady on the wrapped bundle on your chest. Your breaths had evened out- despite the headache in your temple and the paint in your thighs- smile light in awe,

“Caitlin, I’m fine!” Cisco’s shout causes you to look up, seeing him pull his arm- which had a gash at the shoulder- away from the doctor, his eyes flicking to you, “Dante,”

You hold a finger to your lips and smile, Cisco moving up to you with his hand at the gash, his eyes flicking from you to the infant, who shifts at the sudden voices,

Cisco exhales a laugh, your eyes shifting to his shoulder with a slight frown, “Cisco,”

“I’m okay,” He whispers, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, “Promise,”

“We have a baby,” You grin, Cisco’s eyes finally leaving Dante to look at you, his hand not on his shoulder reaching up to cup your face, pulling you in to press his lips against yours, twice,

His forehead bumps yours, head turning to look back down to Dante when he whines, Cisco leaning back so his could extend his hands,

“Easy,” You nod to his shoulder, watching him nod once as he moves to lean against your pillow, shifting Dante against his shirt, carefully,

“Look at him,” He murmurs, your head leaning on his uninjured shoulder, hand on his, “He’s got your nose,”

“We already know everything he’s got,” You remind, nodding to the door where adult Dante stood, next to Nora and behind Barry,

Cisco follows your gaze, smiling as he glances back down to the infant. “Let Caitlin fix your shoulder,” You murmur, Cisco reluctantly handing you back your child.

“Hey,” Cisco pauses as he stands up, leaning back down to press a kiss to your lips, then to your forehead, “I’m so proud of you, mi amor,”

You smile back, looking up at Barry when he holds out his hands, hopefully.

. . .

“It’s almost like you’re really dead,”

You lean back in your chair, Dante rested against your chest as you read the screen, where the words- “VIBE DEAD” showed in front of you,

“Yeah,” Cisco heaves, arm now in a sling and free hand at the back of your shoulder, “I almost really was,” Cisco sighs, running his hand through his hair, “How the hell are we gonna catch this guy?”

“Not without our powers, we know that at least,” Nora frowns, and your eyes widen in realization, Barry’s brows furrowing at your expression,

“I never got my powers back,” You exhale, Cisco looking down to the anxiety etched on your face, “What if they’re gone for good? I- Cecile has hers, still,”

“Hey,” Cisco calms, kneeling down so he was even to you, “For all we know, they could be slow coming back- maybe your body just has to heal, you just gave birth, it’ll take time,”

Your tense shoulders relax, eyes shutting as you nod, “Right. Right, yeah. Sorry,”

“We don’t know much else, either,” Sherloque continues, “Variations in the timeline, they’ve shifted the elements, complicated the equation.

“Not all those elements are bad though,” Barry smiles over to Dante and Nora, “You two could be the elements that save us- you could be the reason we catch Cicada,”

“I must admit, miss Nora here pulled the rug right under from Cicada,” Sherloque laughs,

“That’ll be the only fake death we’re gonna see around here ‘cause you’re sticking around until you pay us back every cent,” Cisco reminds

“Well I have to say, prospect of another mystery with Cicada puts a little pep in my step,” Sherloque states, gesturing to where you had stood up and now bounced Dante, “And now with two Dante Ramons, I sense this will get quite entertaining,”

“It’s gonna be weird, for sure,” You nod, Cisco’s free arm sliding to rub the back of your neck as you move to his side, “Two Dante’s in one house? We’ll see,”

“We probably should get you two home,” Cisco speaks, stepping back as he glances to Barry,

“Get some rest,” Barry orders, finger pointed, “Both of you,”

“Dont worry,” Dante stuffs his hands in his pockets, “I’ll help. Any time I get to spend with younger me, I’ll take,”

You wink at Barry and laugh, Cisco nodding for Dante to follow, shaking his head as you murmur to him about how he must record Dante holding himself for the first time.

[it-fits-i-ships]

I took inspiration from a post by @the-stove-is-on-fire and wrote this oneshot (below the read more link) about an AU in which Spideypool adopts Danny and Jazz Fenton and the sheer chaotic energy of Danny and Wade’s dynamic threatens to drive Peter insane. Just in time for Trans Day Of Visibility too!

Danny Fenton sat next to Great Aunt May on one of the plush blue couches in the living room. Wade, who sat on the far side of the couch, had wanted to get leather seating but Peter, who sat between Wade and Danny, had insisted on inventing a new stain-proof fabric because Wade couldn’t be trusted not to make a mess. On the other couch were Jazz, Grandma Pepper, Aunt Morgan, and Grandpa Tony, who was lifting a wrapped box toward Danny.

“Happy birthday, kiddo!” he said.

“Thanks, Grandpa!” Danny said, eagerly ripping open the paper to see what treasures lay within, “Oh awesome! I’ve been wanting to play this game forever! I didn’t even think it was out yet!”

“It’s not,” Grandpa Tony said, “I pulled some strings.”

“You’re the best!”

“There’s one more thing,” Grandpa Tony said, pointing toward the box.

Danny dug further into the tissue paper.

“A key?” Danny asked.

“It’s a key to your birthparents’ house,” Grandpa Tony said, “They were good friends of mine and when they died I bought their house and maintain it so you and Jazz could go there when you were old enough,” he paused and looked around at Peter, Wade, and Jazz, “I already talked it over with your dads and Jazz and we figure since you’re 14 now it’s time to give you the option to go there.”

He looked between Grandpa Tony and his dads, then at Jazz.

“Have you gone there yet?” Danny asked.

“No, I wanted to wait until we could go together,” she said.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Peter placed a hand gently on Danny’s shoulder.

“Of course, son, take all the time you need,” he said.

That night, after the party was over and the guests had gone home, Danny lay staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts raced around in his skull like the spinning blades of his ceiling fan so that just when he thought he had caught one long enough to get a good look at it he would find it had flown from his grasp. Of course Danny had known he and Jazz were adopted. Peter and Wade had been very upfront about that. They had also made sure Jazz and Danny knew they were loved and wanted. Danny would be lying if he said he had never been curious about his birth parents. He didn’t know or remember much about them, and some part of him had always wondered where he’d come from, but Peter and Wade had been so good to them he never really felt like he had been lacking for anything.

When Danny was 10 he came out as trans and they had immediately put him on puberty blockers, switched to his new name and pronouns, and gotten him a haircut. Peter and Wade had never cared about clothing so even when Danny was young they had let him pick out “boy” clothes, which meant he didn’t have to get a new wardrobe when he came out. Jazz and their dads had Danny’s back during his social transition, correcting people when they used the wrong name or pronouns and defending him when people tried to tell him he was just going through a phase. Danny really couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing. So do I really need to know more about my birth parents? He thought.

Just then, he heard a soft knock at his door. He turned to see Jazz standing in the hall outside his room.

“Hey,” she said, “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting up against his pillows.

“How are you doing?”

“Just trying to process.”

“I get that,” Jazz said, “It took me a while to wrap my head around the fact that our birth parents’ house is still intact, that we can actually go there and find out about them.”

“Do you remember them?” Danny asked.

“Not much,” she said, “I was only 4 when they died. I think they wore jumpsuits a lot?”

“Jumpsuits?”

Jazz shrugged.

“It was 12 years ago, I could be misremembering.”

“I don’t know if I want to go, Jazz,” Danny admitted, “Part of me wants to find out more about them but we already have parents, you know?”

Jazz sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Listen, Danny,” she said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel. If you decide you don’t want to go to the house I’m not going to make you, and neither are Peter or Wade. This is your call. I want to go eventually and if you want to go then we’ll go together but if you don’t that’s okay too. I can always go with Peter or Grandpa Tony,” she paused and pulled him into a big hug, “Take some time to think it over so you make the right choice for you and then let me know what you decide when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Jazz,” Danny said, leaning in return his sister’s hug.

“Any time,” she said, standing up, “I’m going to bed. Make sure you get some rest too, birthday boy.”

Danny nodded absentmindedly.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny stood, key in hand, in front of a house that simultaneously felt vaguely familiar and vastly alien to him. There was a large bunch of tech on top of the house that looked like some kind of UFO and a huge light-up sign that read “Fenton Works.” Who the hell were these people? Danny thought. After a few agonizing weeks he had decided to come learn what he could about his birth parents and Peter had agreed to drive them to the old Fenton residence. He didn’t break his gaze from the house as he felt Jazz take his free hand in hers.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, stepping up to put the key in the door.

The three of them walked into the living room, which Danny immediately noticed had purple walls. On the far wall was an opening to a bright green kitchen.

“Wow,” Jazz said, “They had some, uh, interesting tastes in interior design.”

“What until you see the lab in the basement,” Peter said.

“The WHAT?!” Danny and Jazz said in unison.

“Why is everyone in our lives some kind of scientist or science experiment?” Jazz asked.

“Or both, in Grandpa Tony’s case,” Danny added.

Peter shrugged.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“What did they even do here?” Danny asked.

“They were inventors. They used their tech to hunt ghosts,” Peter said.

“Ghosts?” Jazz said incredulously, “Really?”

Peter nodded.

“So they were crazy,” she said.

“They preferred to be called ‘misunderstood geniuses.’”

“Sure, geniuses on a mission to catch Casper.”

“Jazz,” Danny interjected, “Our dads have super powers, Wade is constantly breaking the laws of physics, Grandpa Tony has personally met aliens and deities, and you’re hung up on ghosts?”

Jazz raised her finger and opened her mouth as if to counter his argument but then, seeming to think better of it, she lowered her hand and closed her mouth as an annoyed look overtook her face.

“Let’s look around some more,” she said.

“Can I go down to the lab?” Danny asked.

“I want to look up here first,” Jazz said.

“Can I go look around by myself, Dad?” Danny asked, turning on his saddest puppy eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, “Just be careful. Don’t touch anything and put on one of the jumpsuits so you don’t accidentally get anything on your clothes.”

“Awesome!” Danny said, already searching for the staircase to the basement.

He quickly found it, descended into the drab gray laboratory, and slipped into one of the jumpsuits hanging on the wall as per Peter’s request. The lab was lined with consoles that had glowing panels and various buttons and switches, counters and tables covered with all kinds of lab equipment from microscopes to complicated networks of flasks and tubes, and a very cluttered work desk covered in noted, equations, and diagrams but the thing that really caught Danny’s attention was the massive metal archway on the far side of the room. It sat open and he squinted to try and make out what was inside. It appeared to be the entrance to some sort of tunnel. Couldn’t hurt to take a closer look, he thought.

Carefully, Danny crept into the dark tunnel. He could hardly see anything in the dim light. What the hell is this thing? He thought as he walked distractedly forward with his hands out in front of him. Before he could contemplate the structure further, his outstretched hand ran right into something small and round. The thing gave a click, a pit forming in Danny’s stomach as the tunnel lit up like the 4th of July with swirling green shapes he couldn’t identify. The light seemed to pass right through him and he felt as much as heard the scream that ripped from his chest as every atom of his being burned.

The next thing he knew he was on the floor outside the tunnel. He awoke to someone shaking him by the shoulders.

“Danny!” Jazz cried frantically, “Danny, please get up!”

He sat up slowly and clutched his aching head with a groan, only to give another when Jazz threw her arms tightly around him and forced the air out of his lungs.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

“What happened?” Danny managed.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Peter said, “But you might want to look in a mirror.”

“What?”

Peter and Jazz hoisted Danny up so he could see his reflection on the shiny glass screen of a large monitor on the wall. Oh shit. His hair had turned a stark white and his once blue eyes were glowing the same radioactive green that had filled the tunnel before he had lost consciousness. What the fuck? He thought, his panic rising exponentially as he leaned on the monitor with one hand to get a better look at himself. Suddenly, he was falling forward and his face smacked into the glass.

“Danny!” Jazz called.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, reaching out to steady his son.

“I think s–”

His train of thought was completely derailed by the sight of his forearm, or lack thereof. He wiggled his fingers and clinched his fist. He could still feel his hand. Is my arm…invisible? He thought.

“Danny,” Peter said gently, “I think your panicking is making things worse. Look right at me,” he paused as he oriented Danny’s shoulders so they were facing each other, “And a take a deep, slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he paused to demonstrate the technique and waited for Danny to copy him, “Good, one more time,” he paused for Danny’s breath, “Remember when you were 5 and Aunt May asked you to help her pick a puppy?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Danny said, torquing his eyebrows in confusion.

“There were so many,” Peter continued, “How did you know you picked the right one?”

“Donut was the only one who came up to give both of us kisses,” Danny said, “And he fell asleep in my lap. I thought he seemed like a good dog for Aunt May.”

As Danny thought back to that childhood memory he felt a strange tingling all over his body, like everything was shifting ever so slightly. He looked down and he could see his arm again. He snapped his head up to look back into the glass monitor, where his reflection showed his natural black hair and blue eyes.

“I’m back to normal!” he said, “How did you know that would work, Dad?”

“I freaked out really hard when I first got my powers. I ended up stuck to a wall with no idea how to get down. It wasn’t until I took a second to calm down that I was able to unstick myself. I figured it might be something similar with whatever that was,” Peter said.

“Do you think that’ll happen again?” Danny asked.

“Probably,” Peter admitted, “But for now I think we’ve all had enough excitement and we should head home. I’ll bring you kids back here later if you want,” he paused and looked directly at Danny, “With thorough supervision, of course.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny held his head in his hands, quite literally. He had finally mastered the trick where he could stretch an invisible bit of his body from his neck to the base of his head so it looked like his head was no longer attached. His two years of training had really paid off. Peter and Wade, and even Jazz, had helped him master his powers but he had been cooking this one up in secret for the express purpose of ghostly shenanigans. Jazz was away at college and Peter was still out for the day. Which means my first victim is –

“Hey, Danny,” Wade’s voice came around the corner as he approached the living room, “Did you eat the last pudding cup?”

“Maybe.”

“Bruh! I totally called dibs on that o–” Wade paused, taking in the scene before him, “Danny, what the fuck happened to your head?! Ugh! Peter’s gonna kill me!” he added.

Danny stuck out his tongue.

“I’m fine, just a little,” here he paused to toss his head into the air, “Lightheaded!”

“You little shit, that was beautiful!” Wade said, pulling a small throwing knife seemingly out of nowhere and chucking it at Danny.

“Dad, what the hell?”

“I’m not ‘Dad,’ I’m Deadpool! I’m here to eat pudding and throw knives,” he paused, lowering his voice, “And I’m all out of pudding.”

He threw a barrage of knives at Danny, who nimbly dodged the projectiles and lobbed a pillow from the couch right at Wade’s face. Each knife lodged itself into a different part of the couch as Danny fired off multiple blasts of ghost fire.

“Hey, Siri, play the Ghost Busters theme. I’m going hunting,” Wade said, brandishing the pillow and another knife at Danny.

Just then, they heard the front door open.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” came Peter’s voice, “There was a thing I had to take care of on the way home –”

He froze at the sight of his husband and son sparring in the living room, his handful of groceries seemingly forgotten.

“Danny started it!” Wade said quickly.

“Deadpool, you fucking snitch!” Danny called, pointing an accusatory finger at Wade.

“Language!” Peter said.

“Yeah, Danny, watch your fucking language,” Wade said, giggling under his breath.

“Wade!”

“What?”

Peter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a circular motion.

“All right,” he said quietly to himself, “So the new couches need to be stain-proof, knife-proof, and fire-proof. You two are in charge of putting the groceries away.”

“Did you get more pudding cups?” Wade asked hopefully.

Peter looked him dead in the eyes as he extracted two packages of pudding cups from one of the bags and tucked them under his arm.

“No,” he said, “Now go put this stuff away and clean up this mess,” he added, gesturing toward the living room.

He turned and headed, pudding still in tow, to his study.

Wade wiped away a single tear as the pudding vanished from sight.

“Oof,” said Danny.

[thebipolarbisexualnerd]

Tk finding Carlos sitting on the shower floor after a really bad shift, Tk takes care of him(and he doesn't get to hide his curls)

This took a darker turn than you were probably expecting.  My brain goes to dark places way too often.  Features Carlos whump and inspired by a post by @comablog2 and they let me write a similiar idea so thanks for that!!  Hope you guys enjoy 

It’s always the last call of the day that ends in disaster. 

Carlos could have ignored the call over the radio since he was off shift in another twenty minutes, but he decided to go help with the call after a gunshot was reported at a residential place.  TK was with his dad for a while anyways so he wasn’t in a hurry to get home to an empty house.  He got in his cruiser and followed instructions to what looked like a perfectly innocent house.  He was out of his cruiser and to the front door in seconds, pounding loudly and announcing police presence.  The door was unlocked so Carlos pulled his gun and slowly walked into the shadows of the house.  Adrenaline rushed through him as nothing but silence met his ears as he gazed around the open concept living room and kitchen.  Nothing at all seemed out of place, but Carlos knew something sinister had happened here tonight.  His heart pounded as he called out again his position with the Austin Police.  He took a slow, careful step down the wood paneled hallway when an image from his nightmares stepped out of the master bedroom on the left hand side.  

The moon was the only light in the house and the man was covered in shadows as he stumbled into the wall.  Carlos could smell the whiskey from here as it seemed to fill the air like an awful cologne. Green eyes caught his and instantly Carlos knew who it was he had caught tonight.  Those eyes haunted him even years after he had last seen them, especially in combination with that maniacal grin.  

“My little Latino doll came to join me,” Nathan Cadbury drawled lazily as he leaned against the wall.  Carlos could see he was covered in blood despite the poor lighting, but that wasn’t what made his blood turn to ice  and a band tighten around his chest.  “I heard you became an upholder of the law after all.  How nice of you to drop in.”

Carlos knew he should ignore the way blood rushed in his ears.  He should arrest this man and have him on the ground already.  He was dangerous yes, but also heavily intoxicated and he could have him on the ground in seconds if only his body would cooperate and stop being frozen to the spot.  His gun slowly lowered to his side as he stood there taking in the man that he’d thought had ruined his life when he’d been only barely eighteen years old.  He was the only monster Carlos had ever known, and he was the motivation to join up with the police academy.  He had wanted to protect the world from people like him, and he’d horrendously failed.  

The door bursts open while the two of them stand there and Carlos tries to breathe through the panic response his body would always have in the presence of Nathan.  The other man begins to laugh as other officers swarm in to arrest him and Carlos can’t look at any of them.  He was the first officer here, but he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing.  He slipped into the bedroom to get away from Nathan and felt himself sinking to the floor when his eyes rested on the body of a young latino boy sprawled lifeless on the mattress.  He had been stabbed multiple times before being shot in the head.  The gruesome murder isn’t what makes his stomach roll and his breathing quicken.  The bruises on his skin were all too familiar, and the marks around his wrists in the shape of fingers were like looking into a mirror from ten years ago.  Carlos had always thought he had deserved the way Nathan treated him.  He had thought he had done something to earn his bruises and marks.  He had told himself Nathan would never do things like this to someone else.  

He had been woefully so wrong.

He wasn’t alone long and somehow it felt like he was invisible as crime scene investigators came in to examine the body and the scene Nathan had created.  

“Carlos,” Michelle’s smooth voice reached him as he struggled to breathe. The paramedic team had likely been called to transport the body and pronounce the death.   “I thought you were off shift.”

“It’s Nathan,” Carlos said to her, knowing she could understand the horror filling him and would be the only one to understand the reason he couldn’t move or even breathe.  “They arrested Nathan for-for-”

“We need to get you out of here,” Michelle said without hesitation as she ran a hand over his hair and the touch helped to ground him.  “You don’t need to be here.  You can’t be here.”

“I c-can’t-” He felt his flimsy walls collapsing with his best friend here.  Michelle was the only person who knew the true story between himself and Cadbury.  He hadn’t been able to tell his mom even though they were close as could be.  He hadn’t been able to tell anyone about that relationship.  

“Hey, you’re okay,” Michelle told him softly with a squeeze to his arm.  “He’s being taken away for good, Carlos.  He can’t hurt you.”

Carlos was using everything in his power to avoid a full blown panic attack as Michelle tugged him to his feet and they made it out into some cool fresh air.  He unlocked his cruiser on autopilot, only wanting to get away from here.  

“You don’t really think you’re up to driving, do you?” Michelle asked as she cut in front of him to stand between him and the open door.  

“I want to go home,” Carlos couldn’t break down here in front of most of his colleagues.  He would never live that down.  His eyes were burning fiercely and all he wanted was a way to let these emotions out someplace safe.  “Please, ‘chelle, I just need to go home and away from...all this.”

“Let me drive-” Michelle started but they both knew that wasn’t even a possible option.  

“You have a job to do,” Carlos told her as he nudged her out of the way so he could get into his car.  “I can drive home just fine.  TK is coming over tonight.”  If he didn’t cancel which he was tempted to do in this kind of headspace.

“Text me when you get home,” Michelle ordered as she slowly stepped back from the car.  “I mean it Carlos, text me.  I’m coming over if you don’t, shift or no shift.  I’ll call you later on.”

“I’ll text,” Carlos promised before closing the door and taking a shaky breath in before blowing it out slowly.  He had to keep it together long enough to get home.  Nathan didn’t matter anymore.  He had grown so far past his abuser.  He had put this all behind him long ago.  Nathan was in jail now, or he would be once morning came at the very least.  

But that boy’s death was purely his fault.

Carlos had no idea how he got home safely since he couldn’t remember the drive home at all.  He probably hadn’t been safe to drive, but being alone with something to do is the only way he was holding himself together.  He was fooling himself to think he could hold this together.  He didn’t need to break down.  It wasn’t going to do anyone any good now.  The past was the past and there was nothing he could do to change it.  He made it until he stepped into the quiet shower with hot water pounding down on his back.  Nobody was here to witness this and he had nothing to distract his mind from the whirling thoughts of seeing his abusive ex-boyfriend again.  Nothing to take his mind off of the image of that bruised boy sprawled on the bed, beaten and shot.  There had been so many nights Carlos had thought Nathan was going to kill him back when he was young.  The man had an awful temper when he was drunk, and completely unpredictable.  Carlos had let himself fall in love with a man he barely knew and it had led to bruises being hidden by long sleeves and clever lies.  

The first sob shook his frame harshly as he braced one hand on the shower wall and it felt like he was twenty years old all over again and trying to gather the courage to leave the toxic relationship he was in.  Leaving Nathan had been the hardest thing he had ever done, and even back then he hadn’t had the courage to report him.   He had simply begged any God that would listen for Nathan to leave him in peace.  He had gotten his wish at the expense of someone else and that was unforgivable.  

His knees gave out as his body shook and he curled up helplessly sobbing on the floor of his shower where nobody could hear him or judge him for feeling the gaping would reopen once more.  The steam wasn’t helping when he felt like he couldn’t breathe already due to the band around his chest tightening like a noose.  It felt like he was going to suffocate with how hard he was sobbing and unable to catch a breath in between.  If he died here he would deserve it for letting that young boy die.  He was a coward and someone had paid the price for that.  He had been too weak to speak up so someone had gotten hurt.  He wasn’t the man everyone thought he was.  He was thought of as a man to be looked up to and respected.  He was thought of as brave and unshakable. 

Those things couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Carlos!” TK’s voice broke through as the water shut off hastily and Carlos had probably forgotten to even lock his door when he had gotten home.   “Oh baby, it’ll be okay.”  TK made to reach out to hold him, but Carlos flinched back without thinking.  He didn’t deserve hands on him in comfort.  He didn’t deserve to feel better.   “Carlos, you need to take a deep breath before you pass out.  You’re safe and it’s only the two of us here.  Breathe with me, baby.”

“I-It’s my f-f-fault,” Carlos stuttered out in between gasping breaths.  

“Shh, Carlos take a deep breath, okay?” TK soothed him quietly as he knelt next to the shower patiently.  “It’s going to be okay.”

“N-no!” Carlos protested.  Things wouldn’t ever be okay again.  How could they be when he was responsible for the death of another human being?  He was sworn to protect others and uphold the law.  What kind of officer broke half of that oath?  He didn’t protect that boy from being murdered by a man that should have been in prison long ago.  “I-It’s not okay.  He’s dead and it’s not okay.”

“Look at me, honey,” TK said softly, rubbing him gently with a soft towel and it was helping ground him to the moment a little more instead of being caught up in being in that house.  “Show me those beautiful brown eyes, okay?”

Carlos forced himself to focus on TK and saw how worried his boyfriend was about him.  His green eyes showed concern and compassion as he knelt next to him.  TK affectionately brushed his curls off his forehead with a towel as he gave him a small smile.  Carlos started to realize how cold he was now that his sobs were slowing down at last even if his breathing still hitched time and again.  

“Let’s try to get up and dry off, okay?” TK offered as he held out a hand and stood.  Carlos wasn’t really ready to leave the sanctuary of the shower, but his knees were cramping up and aching by now, not to mention he truly was freezing enough to start to shiver.  The moment his hand touched TK’s the tears came full force again and he found himself wrapped around his boyfriend in an instant.  TK didn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he was soaking wet and naked, but simply wrapped him in his arms tightly and murmured assurances in his ear.  Carlos tucked his face into TK’s neck and sobbed openly like his entire world was ending in this moment.  

It took a few minutes, but eventually his cries faded to soft whimpers and TK had wrapped the towel around him to help keep him warm.  Carlos felt embarrassed to have cried like that in front of TK, but he also felt a sense of relief that the horror and grief of the day had been released.  

“I’m sorry,” Carlos’s voice was absolutely wrecked and he winced at only the sound of it.  

“No need to apologize,” TK told him with a small, sincere smile and a kiss to his forehead.  “I’ll get you some clothes and you can climb into bed.  Then I’ll get you a cool glass of water, okay?”

Carlos nodded and gazed at his feet in embarrassment.  He hadn’t lost it in front of someone in a long, long time.  TK shouldn’t have had to see that.  The man had enough problems to deal with of his own.  He didn’t need a boyfriend falling apart over something that had happened years ago as it was.  

“Arms up, love,’ TK held out his favorite yellow hoodie for Carlos to slip on and he felt his heart melt in gratitude.  The smell indicated home and it made him feel safe, warding off the chill he felt as soon as Nathan’s silhouette shone in the moonlight.  He felt hands come up to gently cup his face.  “Are you alright?  Michelle was worried when she called me.”

“She called?” Carlos sighed and knew his best friend had the best of intentions.  “What did she tell you?”

“She said I needed to hurry home.  She said you needed me because of a bad call you went on at the end of your shift.  I… I’ve never seen you like that.”  TK’s sweet face was tight with worry, but Carlos couldn’t force himself to hold his gaze.  He knew TK had questions and that it might help to tell someone else about what was going on.  He doubted this case was one that would fade with the night.  He would likely be having nightmares from his past and this wasn’t something he could hide when TK practically lived with him.  

“You aren’t the only one that’s been through a nuclear bad break up,” Carlos tried to smile a bit to show TK he wasn’t completely broken.  “I ran into an ex today on my last call.”

He saw the flashes of insecurity on TK’s face and for a minute his tears were interpreted as something entirely different.  TK was never said to be anything but brave as he kept his gaze and fought past the insecurities.  “Yeah?  How did that happen?”

“Well,” Carlos ran a hand over his curls and had to get under the covers to pull them up to his chin.  “He was the murderer we were arresting.”

“Oh fuck,” TK said immediately as his eyes widened and he slowly came around to sit next to him on the bed.  Carlos could have laughed if he didn’t feel torn apart and raw.  He didn’t know how to hold the rest of this conversation.  He didn’t know how to tell the man who thought he hung the stars and the moon that he hadn’t always been so strong and sure.  He had seen something in TK when he had first come to Austin that had reminded him of himself ten years ago.   He knew Alex hadn’t been as bad as Nathan, but he also knew the more he got to know TK that Alex had been far from nice.  “Carlos I’m so sorry.”

“When I met Nathan,” Carlos had his hands clenched in the blankets and his voice was barely loud enough to be heard even in the quiet of their bedroom.  “I never thought he was nice.  He was jaded and drank too much and hated pretty much everyone.  He was selfish all the time and took exactly what he wanted without regard to anyone else.  I was young and he was incredibly attractive so I forgave the first dozen times he grabbed my wrist a little too hard.” 

“Baby…” TK said softly and reached to take his hand.  Carlos squeezed his fingers in return, but he couldn’t look at his boyfriend or else he would never get through this.

“Eventually I was one of the only people he was civil to most of the time,” He squeezed his eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners.  “I thought I was the one that was going to change him.  The one that would soften the bad boy and all of that.  He was my first boyfriend and I was desperate not to go back to being alone again.”

“I’m right here Carlos,” TK assured him softly and Carlos was nearly finished.  The story was relatively short to tell, even if living it had been the longest two years of his life.  

“He waited until about eight months in before he started hitting me,” Carlos felt TK grip his hand tighter and heard his slight intake of breath.  “By that time I was in love with him, or I thought I was.  I was more or less living with him so my family had no idea he hurt me.  Anyways, I convinced myself for another year that somehow I deserved it when he would punish me for not doing the dishes or for not having dinner ready when he got home.  I thought I wasn’t good enough.  I told myself it had everything to do with me and nothing to do with him.”  Carlos wiped the tears off his cheeks and was thankful the hardest part to tell was over.  “I eventually left him with Michelle’s support and help.  She was the only person I told what was going on and she tried to convince me to go to the cops and tell them what had happened.  She wanted me to report the entire thing and press charges.  I was scared of him and told myself he would never hurt anyone else the way he did to me. “

“You were a kid still,” TK said with his voice shaking a bit and Carlos knew this was a lot to unload on another person.  He had no doubt TK could handle his darkness, but it still made him feel insecure.  “You were young and of course you weren’t ready to do all of that.”

“Someone is dead because I chose not to say anything.”  He felt the shaking start again even as he said the words.  “He found someone else to beat up for his amusement and eventually he killed someone.  If I had said something then he -- he would…  It’s all my fault.”

“Shh, no baby it isn’t,” TK was crying with him now and was done with having any space between them at all as he climbed into Carlos’s lap to wrap his legs around his waist as he hugged him tightly.  Carlos tried to stop his sobs as they came back to the surface.  He hadn’t told that story for ten years and it was one of the biggest regrets of his life.  

“I feel so awful,” Carlos told him amidst soft sobs.  “That kid is dead because of me.”

“He’s dead because of the man who pulled the trigger,” TK told him firmly with a kiss to his forehead.  “You were a kid and he hurt you.  I’m just glad you got out of there when you did.  Baby, I promise that you aren’t to blame in this.”

“I need to sleep,” Carlos knew the crying would never end until he had some rest and his brain had some time to process.  

"Can you sleep?" TK asked him softly. "I can make you some tea if you want."  

"Just want you to hold me. " Carlos felt a blush rising on his face at the simple and earnest request.  

"That I can do. " TK smiled at him gently and opened his arms for Carlos to crawl back into and cuddle close until his head was on TK's chest.  "I love you baby, and I'm always going to be right here. I'm never going to hurt you. If that bastard wasn't already going to jail I'd be tempted to hunt him down. I'm sorry anyone ever hurt you that way. "

"Glad I have you now, " Carlos whispered sleepily as he felt TK rub circles on his back gently.  The crying made him exhausted and it wasn't long before he could fall asleep in his lover's arms safe in the knowledge he would never be hurt again and he would always be loved.

[amydancepants-peralta]

Could you write a fic about the cold open of 7×04 and what actually wouldve happened if terry wasnt in his office 😂 (By the way i love your content!)

I definitely can!  (Did I spend the majority of today writing this, and very little else?  Yes I did.  Was it a valuable use of my time?  Absolutely.)

Rated NSFW - and also available on AO3 if you’d prefer. 👮🏽‍♀️

oh captain, my captain

With a satisfied hum Amy adjusts the last pile of paperwork on the desk, nudging it slightly to the left so that it sits perfectly perpendicular with both the right and bottom edges of the wood grained surface.  Double checking that all breakable items have been stored away for safekeeping, she stands in the centre of the captain’s office once done, folding her arms across the front of her chest as she allows herself a cursory nod of approval. 

There’s an anxious energy running through to the tip of her right foot, and the steady tick of clock on the wall reminds her of the metronome that used to accompany every music lesson she took in high school.  Briefly, she wonders if her and Jake’s son will play an instrument as well.   

Her nerves are racing, and she’s barrelling towards a severe case of paranoia; but logically she knows that her plan is sound, so Amy runs through several key points in her head, one last time:

1: Scully and Hitchcock’s recent hare-brained plan to build and cook a Mega Pizza at their desk (their mourning period from the pizza vending machine finally coming to an end) had resulted in a small fire and the complete short-wiring of all electrical equipment on the fourth floor, rendering the bullpen and all surrounding offices completely useless,

2: Budget cuts meant that the repair crew would not be in for two more days, and due to the lack of security and surveillance, the floor had been cut off from access entirely - except for Sergeant Santiago, whom they’d trusted would hold the keys to each stairwell in safekeeping, and

3: The growing baby in her uterus has set her hormones onto an all-time high, and if there was any chance for this fantasy to come to life, it was right. now. 

Adjusting the tucked in edges of her version of work attire, Amy fiddles with the toy captain’s badge that she had clipped to the front.  It wasn’t nearly as shiny as the real thing, and was far too light to feel legitimate, but there was still a sliver of joy that ran down her spine whenever she looked at it attached to her chest.  One day, hopefully not too far from now, the real thing would be there permanently.

Flicking her wrist upwards, she looks at watch without ever registering the time.  It was relatively late in the evening and she had texted Jake fifteen minutes ago, explaining that she was finishing up some duties in the precinct and needed some help moving some heavy boxes around in Terry’s office.  Like the sweet and dutiful husband she knew him to be, he had responded within seconds, an emoji filled text message telling her that he was on his way.  

He had been so supportive the past five months - supportive for their entire relationship, if she really thought about it - stocking up on the one brand of tea that didn’t make her feel sick, offering regular back and foot rubs, drawing baths with just the right amount of hot water and bubbles, and complimenting her body with such sincerity that even on her worst days, Amy had still felt a little bit desirable.  He honestly had been exactly the kind of charming husband that she knew he would be, and she couldn’t wait to see him turn into an equally wonderful father to their son.  

She glances at the clock on the wall and sighs, shifting the captain’s hat she’s been holding to her left hand before placing it carefully on her head.  He just needs to work on his punctuality.  

Finally, she can hear the telltale squeak of his favourite sneakers, growing louder as he moves further into the bullpen, and only moments later he calls out - “Ames?” 

“In here!” Amy yells in response, adjusting the stark white blouse one last time and putting on her best Power Pose as she waits.  His steps are faster now that he knows where to go, and as he opens the door and sees his wife standing before him in a makeshift captain’s uniform, Jake’s eyes turn as wide as saucers.  

“Babe?”

“Detective Peralta.  It’s about time you got here.  Close the door.”

With his eyebrows flickering upwards, Jake blinks a few times before responding, the blinds rattling slightly at the force of his movement.  “Yes, ma’am, I apologise for the delay.  I got caught up in - ”

“Spare me the details, detective.  We can discuss your issues with time management later.  There are more important matters at hand.”

His posture straightens and he nods, and a familiar twinkle begins to show in those beautiful brown eyes.  

Focus, Amy.

“It’s come to my attention recently that, despite previous scenarios that have held similar elements, there still appears to be a pressing need for the reality to occur.”  She can see Jake suppressing a grin, and holds her ground as he starts walking towards her.  “And while said earlier exercises have held a very high success rate, it would seem as though sometimes there is just no substitute for the real thing.”

Jake stops just in front of her, close enough that Amy can smell that intoxicating mix of cologne and their fabric softener and Jake.  His grin hasn’t faded - if anything, it’s grown - and he grips his hands behind his back like a dutiful officer of the law.  While his eyes trace up and down her body, taking in the uniform, his grin turns into a full-blown beam, and after he beat he leans forward to whisper -  “You want me to fuck you in the Captain’s Office?”

She nods, quick and stern, and corrects his inflection.  “I’m going to fuck you in the Captain’s Office.”

His breath is warm against her cheek as he lets out a grunted hell yeah, pressing his lips against hers a mere second later.  Warm hands are wrapped around her waist, and hers curl around his neck as the need to be as close as possible to him overthrows the need to play pretend, and when his tongue massages hers Amy cannot help but let out a contented sigh.  

His face has taken on That Look when they finally pull apart, that I’m so turned on look that Amy loves to see (but really, she loves all of his faces, and damn anyone who says that makes her a lovestruck fool), and her heart begins to race at the anticipation of what’s to come.

They’d only been dating a few weeks the first time they tried this; a pared down version of role play with Jake using his very best authoritative captain’s voice and turning Amy on so quickly that the resulting sex had led to multiple orgasms for both.  For their one year anniversary (a date that had been delayed slightly by a temporary Floridian residence), he had set up the reading room in her apartment to be an almost exact replica of Holt’s office, and proceeded to fuck her on every single available surface.  It was a treasured memory, and one that rated very high on her list of Favourite Sexy Timez, and even to this day she cannot read a book in there without getting turned on just a little bit by the thought of it.

Over the years they’d branched out into various role plays, with a special section of their closet dedicated specifically to the costumes they’ve acquired along the way, and while Jake has definitely seen Amy in this captain’s uniform before she’s fairly certain that this change of scenery into something far more real is going to turn him even more than usual.

Lord knows it has definitely worked out that way for her.

His hands have stayed on her waist, and with a grin he yanks her closer, pressing his hips into hers.  Yep.  It’s definitely working for him too.

He pulls her in for another kiss, and as much as she wants to let him, there are a few important details that the need to iron out first, and so Amy presses her hands against the grey shirt that lay underneath his open flannel.

“There needs to be a few quick rules before we go through with this, Peralta.”

“Whatever it is, I’m going to say yes.”

“Obviously.”  She raises her hand, pointing her index finger upwards.  “Rule one, what happens in here never leaves these four walls.”

Jake nods.  “No doubt.  Rule two, I get to replay this in my mind whenever I feel like it.”  His hands slide lower, gripping her butt gently.  “And babe, I’m gonna feel like it a lot.”

Smiling, Amy shakes her head.  “Rule number three.”  She leans in, grabbing the open panels of his shirt and pulling him closer.  “You’ve gotta make me scream, babe.”

He grins, that sexy smirk that once only belonged in the bedroom but over the years has progressed to closets, kitchens, living rooms and even once an elevator with the emergency break on.  “Yes, Captain.”

Oh, mama.  Her breath catches in her chest, and Amy can feel her eyes widen as she looks up at her husband, the facade temporarily stripped away as she speaks.  “Say it again.”

Jake leans in this time, moving his hands to rest two fingers against his forehead, pushing them away quickly in a faux salute, and ohhhh mama.  “At your command, Captain Santiago.”

Her lips are pressed against his before another thought can be made, the amount of desire running through her veins providing more than enough fuel for Amy to get the fire started.  Jake’s hands move just as quickly, wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer before tugging at the blouse that she had tucked so perfectly into place.  Moaning into Jake’s mouth, Amy shuffles them backwards, casting both of his shirts to the floor and feeling the edge of the desk scrape along her thighs as they make their way to the tall leather chair that has held such power in so many moments.  

Jake pushes her against the desk before they can get there, digging his fingers into her ass with such ferocity that Amy feels the blood rush in for repair at his release, and when his hands move up to undo her buttons she lets out another encouraging moan into his mouth.  It had been a passing joke when Jake had misinterpreted her request, months ago on the morning of the Jimmy Jabs, but Amy would be lying if she said there hadn’t been a frisson of excitement run down her spine at the suggestion of it, and now that it was finally happening, she couldn’t wait to get to the good stuff.

A rush of cool air hits her overheated skin as Jake flicks open the last button on her blouse, shoving the panels to the side and letting out an appreciative sigh at what he finds underneath.  She knew him to be a fan of the curves that her pregnancy has blessed her with - particularly when it came to her boobs - and Amy had done her due diligence in researching a front clasping bra specifically for this occasion.  It was nude in colour - work appropriate of course, even if this particular uniform is technically a costume - and had just enough padding and lace to make her chest look incredibly inviting.  

“Ames,” Jake whispers, eyes bright with attraction as he leans down to begin a trail of kisses against her bare skin, scraping his teeth along her collarbone.  Carding her fingers through his hair, Amy uses her right hand to reach in-between Jake’s chest and hers, undoing the clasp in a practiced move and Jake sighs in approval at the sudden change of pace.  His hands move lower; undoing her navy blue slacks as his tongue laps gently at each of her nipples, already aware of the sensitivity that she’s begun to experience there, but tonight all of her nerves are on high alert in other places, and so Amy digs her fingernails into Jake’s hair in silent encouragement to continue.  

He lets out another moan, the sensation of his voice vibrating against her skin as he leaves a gentle bite underneath one breast, lifting her hips up slightly to push her slacks towards the floor.  Amy kicks off her shoes quickly and Jake follows her lead, listening for the heavy thunk as both hers and his hit the ground.  She lets her hands linger along the bulge of her husband’s biceps as they wander lower, undoing the button and fly of Jake’s jeans as his lips move back up towards hers for a heated kiss.

His hands roam along the curve of her belly, touch turning incredibly soft as he traces the gentle swell where their son is currently growing.  He’s been so incredibly enamoured with watching Amy’s body grow, making it a daily ritual to kiss both her and her bump good morning and good night and making Amy’s heart flutter just a little bit each time.  Some nights he rests his head against her abdomen as they lay together on the couch, and on lazy mornings when getting out of bed seems like way too much of an effort he will shuffle down the mattress, leaning in to tell their baby boy the story of how he and Amy met, peppering the moments with truly terrible dad jokes that she just knows he’s been storing up for future reference.  

“You really are my dream girl,”  Jake mumbles against her cheek as he kisses a path towards her earlobe, nipping gently at the hypersensitive spot that only he knows about just below.  Amy’s responding giggle turns into a gasp as he does so, and she grips the waist of his jeans and pushes them down as far as her position will allow, waiting for Jake to pull back slightly so that he can take care of the rest of the material.

The chair moves back into her eye line as Jake shakes the last leg of his jeans off, and Amy rises from her perched position on the edge of the desk to meet her husband, planting her palms square against his chest as she shoves him backwards.  His butt lands square on the seat as he lets out a surprised yelp, and she grins.  “Now I’ve got you exactly where I wanted you, detective.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his arousal obvious in the unusual gruffness of his voice (and the sizeable bulge in his boxers), opening his arms out in silent invitation - and it’s one that Amy is very willing to respond to.  She moves towards Jake, resting one hand along the top of the chair as she plants one knee on the cushion beneath them, and then pauses.

“Wait … the arms on this don’t move.  Can you - ”

“Uh … what if I - ”

“Oof.  Okay let me just put my knee - ow, babe!”

“Sorry!  I think maybe if ..”

“This belly doesn’t make things … How about - Oh god no, my back!”

Out of nowhere, Jake bursts into laughter, the absolute ridiculousness of the situation causing his chest to bounce with joviality.  His hands are resting against Amy’s back, low enough to support her movements as she laughs along with him, tucking her head into his neck as the tears streak down her face.  In mere seconds, all of the tension dissipates, and that is a skill that only someone like her husband could possess.  

Amy rests her hands against Jake’s dancing shoulders, sliding her palms up to cup his jawline, taking in his infectious smile and oh how she loves this man.  Both of their pants are on the floor of their superior’s office, her shirts is wide open and Jake’s hair is all over the place from her fingers running through it, but she feels as comfortable right here as she would if they were at home on their couch.  

She loves Jake Peralta for a lot of reasons, and that was never going to change.  

Bending slightly lower Amy tips the captains cap back and drops her forehead to rest against Jake’s, leaving a soft kiss against the bridge of his nose as their laughter begins to trickle to a stop, and it’s only a second later that he moves his head to capture her lips with his own.  It’s a simple kiss, the sweetness of it all proving to be too much for Amy as they part, and she strokes Jake’s right cheek with her hand stating the most simples of truths: “I love you.”

His cheeks flush slightly as he looks up at her in utter adoration, right hand sliding along her outer thigh as he replies.  “I love you too, Ames.”  Shifting his body ever so slightly, Jake digs his fingers into her skin and continues.  “Here, rest your weight on this leg .. I have an idea how we can make this work.”

“I’m still not going to be able t-ohhhhh.”  The protest dies in the back of Amy’s mouth as Jake’s fingers push her underwear to the side, the angle of her half standing position giving him easy access to where she really wants him.   He circles her clit slowly, watching her lungs expand and contract as he slowly gains speed, and as Amy moves her hands to his shoulders, Jake dips his middle finger inside.  Her breath hitches, and he pulls out before returning, once with two fingers and then again with three.  

“So wet, babe.  You’ve been thinking about this a lot, huh?”  Jake’s lips are pushing against Amy’s before she can answer, and the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of her takes all response away from her, letting her tongue push against his in response instead.  

She comes to when he finally pulls away, taking in a shuddering breath before throwing him a withering stare for a millisecond, stating “You were ten minutes late, Peralta.”  Pulling him back in for another kiss Amy sinks her teeth into his lower lip in admonishment, and Jake’s responding groan vibrates again her chest.  She smiles when they part, running her hand through his hair and tugging gently at the roots.  “I had to think about something to pass the time.”

“Mmm,” Jake moans, tucking his head into Amy’s neck as his fingers move faster, “Let me make that up to you, babe.”  He makes no hesitation in twisting his wrist, circling his thumb around in the small, rapid circles that he does so expertly.  It’s a well-practised move, one performed only two days ago when he crowded her up against the kitchen sink and pushed her over the edge while they waited for their coffee to finish brewing. 

His fingers stop pumping, pushing in deep and holding still while slightly crooked.  Jake grins up at her as his thumb doubles down in intensity, and Amy tightens her thighs against his wrist as she comes with a stuttered gasp, a mumbled version of her husband’s name falling from her lips as her shaking legs release him from her grip.  She giggles softly (at least, as much as her racing lungs will allow her) and grabs Jake’s hand as he pulls away, pulling it towards her lips and sucking gently on his fingers, sighing in satisfaction at the taste of her arousal.  “Consider yourself forgiven.”

His hand falls from her grasp, and Jake stretches himself up to kiss Amy, gripping his arms around her lower back tightly as he lifts off of the chair, stumbling back towards the desk and resting her butt against the surface once he feels the hard wood press against his thighs.

“I need to be inside you,” he mumbles between hot kisses as his fingers grip the top of her panties, and Amy lifts her hips again to help the fabric disappear faster.  He makes quick work of his own boxers once her underwear is on the floor - and honestly Amy has fantasised about giving Jake a blowjob in this office enough times that she genuinely had planned to do so - but all the hormones that her body was producing right now had turned her into a horny mess and she, too, needed him inside her now.

Spreading her legs as Jake moves in between them, Amy raises her hand up and pulls away the captains hat that she’d managed to keep on until now, resting it on the surface before planting her hands behind her body for support.  She smiles up at Jake as he groans with lust, pumping his wrist up and down his cock while his tongue darts out to moisten the edge of his mouth.  “You truly are the sexiest woman alive, you know that right?”

She nods, and Jake leans in for a kiss, tongue slipping into her mouth as he pushes his cock inside, fingers digging into her hips before resting beside hers on the desk.  This time it’s Amy’s turn to moan as Jake begins to pump slowly, getting both of them used to this unfamiliar position, and honestly every thrust already feels incredible.  

He watches her with the careful eyes of a well-trained detective, but also that of an attentive husband (both of them had discovered that once pregnant, Amy’s body gave different reactions to things that used to work so well), and she gives Jake an encouraging nod of her head as he begins to pick up speed.  She couldn’t tell if it was the angle that the desk presented, or the fact that there were doing it in the captain’s office, but everything felt fucking amazing and she could already feel her body beginning to respond.

“Oh god Jake, yes …”  Bending back on both hands Amy tents her knees, resting her heels precariously along the edge of the desk and letting her body bounce to the rhythm of Jake’s thrusts as all of nerve endings begin to come alive.  The various collegiate novels and industry awards that are lined up on the shelves behind Jake catch her eye, and the sheer illicitness of what they are doing feels better than she could have possibly anticipated.  They should have done this years ago.  Her husband’s right hand moves to cup one of breasts, pushing the heel of his palm along the bottom just the way she likes, and the pressure feels so good that she lets out a gentle moan.  His fingers move further, circling her sensitive nipple with his thumb and only weeks ago an action like that would have had her screaming in pain, but thank god her body has adjusted to these changes because NOW it feels like he’s lighting a match with every stroke, pushing her closer and closer to combustion.  “Yes!  Harder, babe!”

Jake’s breath is hot against her neck as he leaves a series of slopping kisses, dropping one to her mouth before pulling away, breathless.  “You feel so good Ames, so hot … I can’t believe we’re fucking in the captain’s office.  Fuck I love you.”

Amy moves her head back up slightly, eager to watch her husband as he moves closer to the point of no return, and the sight of his beautiful face as he thrusts harder and harder makes Amy call out his name, circling one leg around his lower body in silent encouragement for more.  Glancing behind her quickly, Amy grips the edge of the captain’s hat from the desk, using her thumb to rotate it within her grasp and places it onto Jake’s head with a cheeky grin.  It seems to spur him on, her body rocking against the desk with every single thrust as he increases the intensity, that determined look that she loves so much falling onto his face as he pushes harder and faster. 

Amy lets her hand slide back down his chest, pinching his right nipple as she goes before heading straight for her clit, holding on to Jake’s steady gaze as she begins to move her fingers in the rapid circles that never fail to get her off.  She doesn’t want this to end, but her first orgasm had felt so. good! and she was absolutely ready for another.  The handles on the desk drawers beneath them begin to rattle as Jake really begins to hammer into her, clearly racing towards climax as he mouths Ames over and over.  

The sensation of it all becomes too much a couple of minutes later and Amy cranes her neck back, calling out her husband’s name as another orgasm takes over her body, the delicious rush of it all making her giggle nonsensically.  From above her, Jake moans as Amy’s insides pulse around him, and when she drops her chin to watch him he grips her butt in both hands, pulling her as close as the bump will allow and changing the angle completely.   

His pubic bone rubs against her clit with every forceful pump from this new position, and even though Amy’s just had an orgasm and she would normally be oversensitive by this point, she’s also incredibly turned on - and as Jake’s thrusts continue she grips her other leg around his waist, holding on to him with nothing but her lower body as another wave washes over her.  This time proves to be too much for Jake as he follows her over the edge, digging his fingers into her skin and calling out her name as he releases everything he has.   

It takes a while for either of them to come down from the high, with only the sound of panting breaths and gentle kisses filling the room.  Slowly they part, holding out items of clothing to the other as they begin to put themselves back together, adding in a lingering touch every time one of them is near enough.  

They clear away the evidence of their tryst with the practiced efficiency of a team that know each other inside and out (because really, that’s the only way you could describe their partnership by now), and Jake pulls Amy in for one last lingering kiss as he fastens the top button of his jeans.

“Alright babe, I’m just gonna grab a few things from my desk while I can get to it, and then let’s go home, yeah?”

Amy nods, running her hand along her ponytail and quickly deciding it probably needs to be redone.  “Yep, I’ll be right out.  Oh, and Jake?” 

He turns at the doorway, one hand still gripping the outside frame, and Amy takes deliberately strong steps towards him.  Grabbing him by the collar, she yanks him in hard and fast for a swift kiss, pulling away before he can even try to deepen it.  There’s a flustered look on his face as they part, which when matched with his I just had sex hair makes him all the more adorable, and Amy gives him a quick wink before pushing him out completely.

“Dismissed.” 

[nautiscarader]

An NSFW prompt: Amanda is finally ready to bear a child with Milo. So instead of condoms and pills, they take some of that "special" aphrodisiac from one of your earlier stories 😏

I took a slightly different approach of this prompt, I hope you will enjoy it, anon! (tell me afterwards)

(Ao3)

===============

Melissa always enjoyed visiting her two best friends from school, if anything to see what new has happened in Milo and Amanda's lives. And as she followed her to their living room, she noticed some new decor that livened up their house: a new sprinkler system has been installed to match the existing lamps and sirens, an avant-garde sculpture made of fire extinguishers, and the new paneling on the walls, depicting nearest emergency exit.

Though of course, Melissa thought their house might have undergo even more changes soon...

- So, working from home now? - Melissa asked, taking a seat in the kitchen. - Yes, I do need the comfort of home. - Amanda replied - And, well, it gives me time to think of what should we change next...

She suddenly took Melissa's hands into her and addressed her friend.  

- Melissa, I cannot thank you enough. - I think it's Milo whom you should be thanking, isn't it? - Melissa raised her brow, causing Amanda to giggle. - Well, obviously, yes, but without your product it might not have worked as well... - Ah, then you should be thanking Zack, then. - Melissa replied - He has insisted on rigorous testing of our product, many, many times a day. - Then I hope you will thank him from me tonight. - Amanda added. - I will. - Melissa smiled - And remember, it is still Milo's fault-slash-contribution that we ended up in that hotel... - Oh, that brings memories... - Amanda sighed, as a dreamy expression filled her face.

Melissa didn't want to pressure her, but at the same time, the matter they only briefly talked over the phone piqued her academic curiosity.

- Amanda, I hope you don't mind me asking, but... how did that exactly make it work? I mean, with Murphy's Law and all?

Her friend smiled, as another pleasant memory filled her mind.

- Oh, don't worry, I don't mind telling you at all...

She took a sip of her tea and started explaining.

=============

As she continued setting up the table, Amanda hoped her plan would work. It took them about a month of meticulous planning, and she needed for absolutely every step to go wrong tonight. The dinner was almost ready, all she needed was the final part of the inequality to arrive. And when Milo's car bumped gently into the rubber braces in the garage, making the walls shake slightly, she knew it was time for her to shine.

- Hi, honey! - Home already? - he greeted her, giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek. - Yup, I need to work home tonight, I've got lots of reports to re-do. Would you mind checking the stew?

She turned around, hoping to hear a familiar sound in a moment. And indeed, as Milo walked into the kitchen, his trademark "Oops!" coincided with the clutter of a glass bottle falling to its side.

- Er, I hope you don't mind the stew being a bit spicier... I dropped the hot sauce in again. - No, I don't.

She smiled, taking the bowl from her husband. The two sat at the table, and with trembling hands, Amanda took the spoon into her hand.

- Milo, honey, I hope you're not angry that I stay late in the study longer, right? I'd hate if anything interrupted my work tonight. Especially now, that I got that promotion... - Of course not. - he replied with a warm smile - Do you want me to go out or something, so that you-know-what won't mess things up? - No, no. - she quickly added. - I just hope for some nice and quiet evening, that's all.

Amanda took a first gulp, and when she felt the familiar, fruity and minty taste in her mouth, she knew her plan has succeeded.  

- Wow, that does set your palate on fire, doesn't it? - Milo's eyes bulged out slightly, and he loosened his tie after few more spoonfuls. - I agree. - Amanda undid a button on her blouse, feeling the energy rushing through her veins.

As she watched her husband, Amanda wondered how long will she have to wait for the ingredient in their stew to take the effect. And when she realised her hands were undoing her skirt, she knew it has already done its job.

- A-Amanda!

Milo yelped when his wife leapt into his seat, her mouth tasting the same flavour on his lips, while their hands roamed each other's backs, getting rid of unnecessary clothing.

- A-Amanda, what's going on!? - Milo asked, his eyes widening in panic he wasn't quite used to. - Oh, dear - Amanda spoke with a pretence worry - I think it might not have been the hot sauce, honey...

Her hips moved on their own, grinding against his, feeling his erection getting harder with each pass and each article of clothing that made its way to the floor. Though he was still shocked, Milo's lip moved to her no-naked breasts, making Amanda moan in pleasure, which postponed her explanation.

- I think... I think it's that aphrodisiac from Melissa and Zack they gave us! - she exclaimed, feeling his hands between her legs - Oh dear, and it seems it's especially powerful one! - But-But it I rebottled it so we wouldn't mistake it! - he asked, while the rest of his body acted on its own. - And I rebottled it too!

Milo looked from between her breasts, continuing his trail of kisses down to her sex. The bowl of stew lie broken on the floor, while he was devouring a much more appetising meal.

- Ye-yes! - Amanda shrieked when she felt his tongue between her folds - I mean, no! We must have switched it twice!

Amanda's back arched to better accommodate Milo's oral caresses. With his hands on her things, he continued licking her, before he pressed her legs against her body. And when their eyes met, so did the tip of his cock with her wet folds.

- Condom! - Amanda cried. - R-Right!

Fighting his own, primal urges that awoken in his body, Milo leapt to the drawer in the bathroom where they kept various products and took one military grade condom, hoping it would suffice. Of course, taught by years of being with him, Amanda was already taking her pills, but with their luck, they might have been enough. And with the effects of their friend's concoctions, who knows what kind of hormonal revolution was taking place in her body...

Milo turned around, and he found Amanda was already next to him, driven by her awaken and hypercharged libido. He saw the hunger in her eyes, and the young man managed to open the condom and put it between their bodies right before Amanda jumped him and slid herself onto his cock, sheathing it with the condom as well.

With her arms on his chest, Amanda repaid Milo for his initiative on the table, bouncing up and down on his cock, disregarding any rules of caution she might have had on her mind. All she needed, all she wanted was already inside her, and with each rise of her body she felt the momentarily longing when Milo's cock wasn't fully embraced by her wet, needy lips, thus making the next slam of her hips even more powerful.

She leaned forward, needing to feel his lips on her own, and together with those, she received a strong grip on her bum that proved to be a tactical move, as the very next moment she found herself underneath him, pressed against the rug of their bathroom, her legs wrapped around his waist. But soon the same legs were pushed to his shoulders, when Milo assumed an oddly dominant for himself position, ramming inside her with ferocity she hasn't seen in him yet.

As her body kept arching with each dive, and her mind was hazed with pleasure, it was difficult to tell how many times has she cum. Once? Twice? It honestly felt her whole body was making her climax anew time after time, and she couldn't tell if it was the effect of the aphrodisiac, Milo's love-making, or her excitement that caused it...

There was one final element of their puzzle, and as Milo's face became a battleground of grimaces, Amanda knew it was coming close. She reached for his neck, bringing him against her, and whispered inside his ear.

- Don't worry! It's fine! It's-It's very safe for you to cum!

She heard his groan, and then, she let out a cry of her own. A cry of joy and fulfilment, when she felt a familiar warmth starting to fill her up, in long, hefty bursts. The same warmth that gave her quite a few scares hen they were in college, and now she treated as her most prized possession. Milo's hips kept bucking, delivering more of his seed, while her body reacted in sync, shuddering with each portion delivered right against the entrance to her womb.

- A-Amanda! - Milo cried - The condom must have broken! - Oh no! - Amanda added - And this thing is supposed to make me exceptionally fertile, thus making my pills useless! - And I bet it made me super-potent! - Oh no...

With each of the worries they cried, the two lovers kept up their act less and less. And the final "oh no" turned into a wild fit of giggles, culminating in a long and heated kiss. Milo cupped the face of his wife, bringing some spare clothes from the dryer underneath her bum to make sure her back wasn't hurting from the animalistic position he has taken her in. He looked into her widened, tear-filled eyes and couldn't shed a tear himself, watching her face becoming more and more radiant.

- Do you think it worked? - Don't jinx it yet. - Amanda quickly added - It takes anywhere from thirty minutes to twenty-four hours in optimal conditions for conception to take place. You made sure you would be needed in your work tomorrow? - Oh yeah, very important quarterly meeting takes place tomorrow. Definitely shouldn't be skipping it. - Great. Let's make sure you skip it.

Her legs once more closed behind his back, and the fervour began once more. It was going to be a long day...

===========

Melissa blinked, once Amanda has finished her story, with the same blissful expression on her face.

- Wait, wait, wait. Are you trying to tell me that you've... outsmarted Murphy's law? - I think so. - her hand moved to her belly - Again, took me a while to set up everything, and it did require thinking outside the box, but with Milo you kinda learn it. Especially since the box is usually on fire. - You had to work harder to get a promotion, Milo had to plan that meeting... - Melissa counted on her fingers. - And then we had to make sure he gets the faulty condom. And make sure to rebottle that extra potent aphrodisiac like seventeen times, so that neither of us truly knew which is which. - Wait a minute - Melissa suddenly stopped - That present from us, it didn't have a word "prototype" on it, did it?

Amanda put away her teacup, as her eyes widened suddenly.

- It-It did. Is it bad?

Instead of a grim response, Melissa burst into laughter.

- No, it just... it was a dud, turns out this batch didn't really work at all. So maybe you guys were really, really horny. O-Or maybe it didn't work for anyone except Milo? Or maybe it did work, but the Murphy Law made it not work, but since you wanted it to-

Melissa clutched her head.

- You know, what, I think I'm feeling nauseous. And you're the pregnant one. - Careful, maybe it's spreading.

Amanda joked, and it wasn't until Melissa took a rather healthy sip of her tea, when she remembered that last time Milo visited them to thank them for their present, he gave them a bottle of a home-made hot sauce.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

In My Mind x 04

*Re-uploading because I've edited these to flow a little bit better. Thank you for your patience!

All the things one has forgotten

scream for help in dreams. 

~Elias Canetti

---

“So your plan is to use humiliation as a tool for blackmail? Uh uh, no.”

His eyebrows arch in challenge.

“I said no!”

You stare at Erik from your position on his couch and shake your head. His place is beautiful and spacious, the top floor of some building. If you had this, you’d be ecstatic. However, you can’t really enjoy the aesthetics as you’re exhausted from the back and forth of fussing with this guy. You’ve been going toe to toe with him over the same issue for the past twenty minutes and he is not taking no for an answer.

“You ain’t gotta do anything that’s gonna cloud ya innocence, you just gotta ride with me and try to focus in on him, that’s it. Then just tell me what you see.”

“For WHAT?”

He swore he was slick, but for what good purpose could he want to invade the privacy of someone else’s dreams?

“Nia, do you know what this muhfucka does all day? He kills niggas for a fuckin PAYCHECK! He’s the police chief and I’m bout sick of this shit happening to our people, ain’t you? Or do your MORALS detract from your compassion?”

Guilt. That’s his tactic.

“Don’t try to manipulate me into being your weapon. That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Babygirl, LIFE ain’t fair. It’s SHIT! Because the people who could do shit to help it, don’t do shit.”

That’s you apparently. Somehow this is becoming your fault.

“It’s not like I’m a kill him, I’m just gone give him some initiative to leave our people alone. I’m keeping the streets safe, something we both know people like him don’t give a damn about.”

His finger lifts your chin and his eyes are full of sincerity. You pull your face away from his hand. He’s sincere in his passion, but not his intentions, you can feel it.. an intense bloodlust.

“Nigga, I’m not dumb. You’re gonna kill him and then you’re gonna try and justify it saying he deserved it.. and he probably does! But what happens after that? You get another one in his place and this continues.”

“You ain’t sayin shit I don’t know. I told you, we just gone shake him up a bit. Wouldn’t you want someone to step in for you and yours?”

You eye him. It’s really late and you’re tired, but you know you can’t complain. This is a man who hardly sleeps because he’s seen too much to keep his eyes closed.. literally and figuratively.

“What’s the use of having power if you don’t use it to benefit your people?”

Ol’ super woke ass.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you say and he’s all ears. “I’ll try it. IF.. we go to sleep tonight and you actually sleep.”

Hesitantly, he takes your hand and guides you into his bedroom. Now it’s your turn to look about. The room is dark and masculine like you expected. It's fairly impersonal. There are no real personal touches. Other than a-

“Hey, that’s the journal from your dream,” you point out the worn leather journal on the nightstand. In his dream it was full of symbols that he seemed to understand. The journal obviously held strong purpose and direction for him.

He looks from the journal to you and collects it smoothly, moving it away from you. He doesn’t want you near it. Pressing your lips in a tight line you follow him with your eyes as he exits the room reappearing without the journal.

“You’re aware I’ve already seen some of what’s in there, I just can’t read it,” you deadpan. He pulls his shirt off and there are the little marks he showed you some of before. You knew you’d felt stabbing over your entire torso and now, bit by bit, you're beginning to understand what these marks really represent.

You walk back to the living room space to give him some privacy. He looked like he was ready to strip on the spot whether you stayed or left, gathering his things to shower. A minute later you hear another door close. So a minute or so after that, you determine that he must actually be in the shower. Time to explore. Popping your head back in his bedroom, he's gone. You don’t know where he put that journal so you can’t sneak and look at it.

Back in the living room you quickly walk through noting the dark paneled walls with white accents matching the dark floor, broken up by floor to ceiling glass windows. The glass is thick, you can tell. The outside sky, black. Very dark and semi-gloomy, befitting of a villain’s lair. This is the penthouse.

The living room looks like it can seat twenty with its large white couches and arm chairs. The open kitchen maintains the black theme with its wall of black drawers and trap doors hiding appliances. There's the black island with black bar stools.. liquor in sight. It’s all impersonal, yet sleek.

The only character you can see is in the traditional African masks crafted in wood or iron and the paintings alternating and strategically lining the walls that aren’t black panels.

Then there’s the bookcase and the game system. You go to the bookcase. There's The New Jim Crow. Assata. Emmett Till. Mechanical Engineering. Xhosa, Russian, and German dictionaries. Taxes and financial literacy, law books.. steep, pretty steep. Picking up the Xhosa dictionary you flip through it. The symbols match what you saw in the journal and you decide that if you ever get the chance, you’re decoding that worn out journal. You put the dictionary back like you found it and walk further into his home. He has a ridiculous amount of space.. and money aparently.

Your sixth sense tingles and you dash silently back to the living room, making sure to breathe and act normal. A few minutes later Erik rounds the corner waving you back towards him. You follow him back into the bedroom and he hands you a t-shirt.

“Shower’s all yours. Sleep in this, we’ll get you some clothes tomorrow.”

—

The steaming cascade was restorative. You silently rejoiced under the stream. Many people underestimate the wonders of a hot waterfall and privacy, but not you. You were thankful. The bathroom was so large it could’ve been a spa room or a multi-stalled toilet. You towel off and put the t-shirt on. It goes just past your butt, modest enough if you don’t bend over. Your energy saps you all of a sudden and you double over on the sink feeling your exhaustion. You just want to sleep.

You walk back to the bedroom and Erik is in the bed, eyes closed. No wonder. It’s partially your own exhaustion and partially the pull.

You slide underneath the comforter and top sheet fighting the urge to cuddle him for your own comfort. Your arms feel empty and wanting. You turn your back to him to counteract that feeling and slip under a veil of p i t c h b l a c k...

Ghanaian ceremonial mask used for religious and mythical purposes. Benin mask of Queen Mother Idia. She has a beaded headress and her scarification is like yours, something these white people will never understand but like to pretend they’re the experts on. So, how is it they ended up with OUR shit? The FUCKIN British Empire. And here go this pilgrim looking broad, like clockwork. Drink up, bitch.

“Good morning! How can I help you?”

Fake ass. You been watching me like this shit ain’t all encased in glass. If I were a normal citizen how would I get into the shit, Karen?

“I’m just checking out the artifacts.. They tell me you’re the expert.”

“You could say that.”

Uhuh, that coffee real good ain’t it, Susan?

“They’re beautiful.. Where’s this one from?" Of course, she answers. Knowing every fuckin thing. "Forreal?” You stall her.

Dumbass.

“And what about this one?… Now, tell me about this one.”

“Also from Benin, 7th century. Fula tribe, I believe.”

You 'believe'... Time to end this.

“Nah. It was taken by British soldiers in Benin, but it’s from Wakanda.. and it’s made of vibranium.”

THERE'S the realization in her eyes. Too late though. You fight a smile, but it wins.

“Don’t worry, I’m a take it off your hands.”

“These items aren’t for sale!”

The damn irony. All this knowledge of history and she ignores the fact that they NEVER were for sale.

“How you think your ancestors got these? You think they paid a fair price? Or did they take it like they took everything else? You got all this security watching me since I came in, but you not checking for what you put in your body… CALL A DOCTOR!”

Her body drops to the ground and a team of men in yellow reflective gear charge in. Gunshots and more useless bodies hit the floor. This is what you’ve been waiting for. One shooter, a white man with a grey bald fade and tattoo on the back of his head, lets a guy go and you think of going after him until he caps him mid-run.

“Why you ain’t just shoot him right here,” you question.

“Because it’s better to leave the crime scene more spread out. Makes us look like amateurs.”

Nigga what the fuck? It’s okay I’m bout done with your ass anyway. Just get me and Lynda to Wakanda.

Jetplane. Black girl. Intense feelings. You love her. She’d die for you. For the vision. She’s the Bonnie to your Clyde, all you need and the future queen of Wakanda. She’s beside you like a queen should be, holding her own.

“Drop us off in Wakanda.”

The grey haired man declines but somehow you knew he would. There’s a gun in your hand and you raise it to shoot the pilot. You should’ve shot the grey haired man first. Now he has your world in his hands and there’s a gun to her head.

“Baba?”

The mulitated body of your father soaked and lying in a pool of crimson. You wrap yourself around him trying to bring him back, every tear a prayer. You’d give anything.

“I’m sorry, Erik,” she pleads. No “Don’t kill me” or “Save me” just “I’m sorry.” She knew this could happen, but you’d miscalculated.

“If that happens, shoot me and KILL him. No matter what, keep going,” she’d told you when you were planning the takeover of Wakanda. You were so confident when you kissed her that it would never come to that. The gun stalls in your hand for the briefest of seconds and then you remember…

Everybody dies.. It's just life around here. None of you are exempt.

“It’s okay,” you say sending her a bullet as cleanly and painlessly as you can. Her body drops and the grey haired man is next.

Everybody leaves. Everybody dies. It's just how it is.

You’re numb.

A whirl of color and a throne room.

"IS THIS YOUR KING?!" The question burns in your throat as you look at the faces.

Blood. Sweat. Ritual combat on top of a high waterfall and you almost bust your ass grabbing that nigga and tossing him to his death. Bombs are exploding. Fire rises and releases its choking smoke. The stench of decay fogs the air. Blood and dirt.

“SHOOT HIM, STEVENS!”

I’LL KILL THAT SMILING MUHFUCKA!

The screams of fear. A crowd of Wakandans blind to the world’s suffering. To your suffering. You swing and keep swinging and you bring it all down, but it gets back up.

A knife jabs and plunges deeply into you but it doesn’t hurt as much as the realization that you’ve failed.

Everything is gone. And for what? You tried your best. Your whole life and it wasn’t good enough. All your life to get here and it’s where you die.

“I should’ve taken you back long ago,” a familiar voice cuts in. You've missed him more than life. “Instead we are both abandoned here.”

Baba.. the lost tribe. But are we truly lost?

“Well, maybe your home’s the one that’s lost that’s why they can’t find us.”

You pull the knife from your body and collapse only to wake up in a lab. A little black girl with braids in two buns like Princess Leia.. standing beside the nigga who killed you staring intently.

“Erik?… Erik… It’s Nia.”

Nia?

“I’ve been here. I saw it all.”

Nia

“Erik, you didn’t fail. We know about Wakanda today because of your sacrifice. They are reaching out to blacks in Cali, and now I understand why. Even if the world doesn’t know, THEY know. I know. And YOU know. You’re a hero. An antihero, but a hero nonetheless.”

Don’t patronize me

“I’m dead serious.”

I’m waking up now

“Wait-” Your eyes flutter open slowly and adapt to the light coming through the window. That dream was.. insane. To think that this is his life. You wouldn’t have made it through all of that. You turn over and almost have a heart attack. His face is close and his eyes stare into yours, filtered in calm. Though awkward, this is progress from the last time he woke up.

“Good morning,” he mumbles in a deep voice that goes directly through you. Keep it together, Nia. You’re self-conscious of your breath so you stay silent. Humor lights his eyes and they squint adorably. Not a word you’d normally attribute to this man.

“What your hair look like under that lacefront?” He smirks.

Annnnd he ruined it.

Other Chapters:

[prorevenge]

Two malicious compliances equals one pro revenge.

TL;DR at the end.

Several years ago, Barry, my boss, did a job for BigDaddy Construction, and got screwed. It wasn’t a huge amount of money, a couple of thousand dollars, but screwed is screwed. Basically, he accepted BigDaddy’s word on something that they denied later. Barry consulted his lawyer, and was told that since the issue was not in writing, that any legal action was likely to fail, and even if he won, that the legal costs would exceed any settlement. And BigDaddy basically said, “My lawyer can beat up your lawyer.”

Barry then asked what every lawyer likes to hear, “What should I have done differently?”

Fast forward to 2017. BigDaddy is soliciting bids for a new restaurant called FancyAss. Barry submits a bid for supplying and installing door hardware, things like doorknobs, emergency exit bars, door closers that pull the doors shut…and 3 Automatic Door Operators (ADO’s). An ADO is something you have seen before, it has a metal plate with a wheelchair logo mounted on the wall, when you press it, a motor opens the door. It’s designed to allow people with limited mobility to pass through a doorway.

Barry wins the bid, and calls a meeting. He is handling this job personally. All communication with BigDaddy is to go through Barry, and ONLY Barry. If someone from BigDaddy calls and says, “Nice weather, isn’t it?” we are to reply, “I wouldn’t know anything about that, let me transfer you to Barry’s line.” Under no circumstances is anyone from BigDaddy to be given Barry’s cell number. And the after-hours on-call techs are only to return the call and say that Barry will be in touch in the morning. Violation of any of this will be grounds for immediate dismissal for cause, is this perfectly clear?

A few weeks go by, and we get a call from “GC”, who not only is running the job for BigDaddy, but is BigDaddy’s son. He’s an entitled shitball of a tyrant, with anger issues and a vocabulary that relies heavily on profanity. I’m calling him “GC” because that’s his job title, General Contractor.

For those who don’t know, a GC is responsible for ensuring that everything gets done on a construction site in the correct order. For example, if you are building a bathroom, first you put up the wall studs, then the electrical is run and the plumbing supply lines are roughed in. next the drywall goes up, then the tile, and the baseboards. The walls, ceiling, and trim get painted, then the cabinets, light fixtures and switches are installed. Lastly the plumbing fixtures go in. So you can see, a GC has to deal with several different subcontractors and co-ordinate their efforts. It’s a stressful job, and you need the co-operation of the various people….and it’s hard to get people to work with you if you’re screaming swear words at them, something GC never figured out.

This might be a good time to give you a visual of the restaurant layout. This is by no means to scale, just a sketch to give you an idea of what’s going on.

There are 3 ADO’s to be installed, 2 on the entrance and one on the handicapped washroom. The conventional washrooms are down a set of stairs on the right, and by law, there has to be a washroom available for people using wheelchairs, marked as HC on the drawing. This is on a bit of a corridor of sorts used by the servers to bring food in and dishes out. The partitions separating the corridor are about shoulder-high, separating the corridor from the seating area, which is what the circles with 4 chairs represent. These are tables, booths, etc., with a smattering of service stands for order entry, and bits and pieces like extra cutlery.

The décor was fancy, and meant to resemble a Victorian Gentlemen’s Club, with oak throughout, and thick carpets on the floors. Worthy of mention is the feature wall at the front, with alcoves for displaying sculptures, and places to hang paintings.

So GC calls us, and they are ready for the ADO’s.

We arrive, and install. By the terms of the bid, it’s BigDaddy’s responsibility to supply dedicated 120v electricity for the ADOs and to run the 12v wires from the activation plates to the top of the doorway so they can be connected to the circuit board for the ADO. This wasn’t present at the time of the install, so he ran an extension cord to power the ADO, and used a wireless transmitter and receiver to trigger it. All of this was specified in the bid, which said that we could install, and then return to hook up the wires once they get run. Barry came and supervised the tech installing the ADOs personally. When GC signed off, buried in the description was a line or two referencing the relevant sections of the bid.

When GC signed off on the handicap washroom install there was a line noting that BigDaddy assumes all responsibility for compliance with the relevant building code section.

GC didn’t bother to read what he was signing, just scribbled a signature and took his copy. Barry made certain the tech was right beside him when GC signed off.

Malicious Compliance #1

It’s about 2 weeks before opening, and they are in the finishing stages. Barry gets a frantic call from GC that none of the ADO’s are working, and they need these to be functional, or they won’t get their occupancy permit. Barry heads down the next day with the tech.

Barry: “Well, I found the problem.” GC: “So fix the fucking problem” Barry: “There’s no 120v run to the doors, and there’s no 12v wires to hook up the buttons.” GC: “You didn’t run the power? Why didn’t you run the power?” Barry: “It’s not in the scope of work in the bid. You’re supposed to do it.” GC: “Why didn’t you tell me that when you were here the first time.” Barry: “I did, and you signed off on it.” GC: “Where’s the fucking electrician? Electrician, get your ass over here.” Electrician: “What’s up?” GC: “Why isn’t there any power for these door operators?” Electrician: “It’s not part of my scope of work.” Barry: “There’s some good news…” GC: “What?” Barry: “If we use wireless for the buttons, we won’t need 12v wires. I’ll have to bill you for it as an add-on, but once you get me 120v, these ADO’s will be working.”

NOW GC realizes how fucked he is. The interior of the restaurant is 90% complete, and there is no power to a critical part of the building. Without it, no permit. BigDaddy has fucked up big time, assuming that either Barry or the Electrician would run the wires, and not putting it into the scope of either bid. The electrical panel is in the back of the kitchen, and there’s no way to bring 120v to the front entrance, except across the ceiling, which would be nearly impossible. All of the lighting and the ornate false ceiling was already in. Even if he was able to magically do that, he would either have to run a metal conduit down the surface of the feature wall, or rip out a good chunk of it, run the wires, and reinstall it. The handicap washroom ADO wasn’t as much of a problem, since it was closer and the wires could be run through the false ceiling. The section that contained the handicap washroom also had offices and storage with a t-bar ceiling, unlike the main room, that had 20 foot ceilings. The electrician charged GC big dollars for the extra work.

Malicious Compliance #2

Remember the handicap washroom? When the building inspector came to do a pre-check, they discovered that the square footage of the washroom, minus the area taken up by the in-swinging door, was less than the required minimum. They needed a quick fix, as dismantling the washroom, moving a wall, and relocating the plumbing fixtures would be too expensive, and would take too long. So GC decided to reverse the swing of the door, and have it swing into the corridor, rather than into the washroom. This had a really bad effect on the operation of FancyAss once it opened, as any time someone wanted to use the washroom, the door blocked the flow of servers in and out of the kitchen. And people are lazy…even able bodied people were prone to using this washroom as it was closest. I don’t know what the conversations between FancyAss and BigDaddy were like, but I imagine they were pretty intense….but who gives a fuck. GC signed off on that, too.

And Barry got to invoice for a whole new ADO, as the original was a “pull” style, and reversing the swing meant that a “push” style was required.

Pro Revenge

GC called a few days after discovering that the entrance doors needed 120v, to tell Barry that the 120v was available. Barry heads down with the tech to check it out.

In the vestibule was a heater known as an “air curtain”. It’s a big heater, designed to push a high volume of warmed air into the vestibule, to mitigate cold outside air entering the restaurant. It pulls a significant amount of electricity every time it kicks on, and GC had tied the 120v for the entrance door ADO’s into the same circuit.

Barry explains that the bid specified that the ADO’s require their own dedicated circuits, one for each. GC responds that he doesn’t give a shit, hook the goddamn things up, so Barry does, and has GC sign off again. Only this time buried in the sign off sheet is an acknowledgement that by not providing dedicated circuits, all warranties are void, and subsequent service would be billable. Just like usual, GC scribbles his signature and takes his copy without reading it.

These ADO’s are finicky about power. There’s a motor (obviously) controlled by a circuit board that determines how fast the door opens, how long it stays open, how fast it closes, how much force is used, that sort of thing. If it takes a spike in power it fails, and the ADO no longer functions.

A power spike blows a fuse and damages one of the components of the control board. This is replaceable, and the part is worth about 30 bucks. The control board can be fixed in about half an hour, with another half hour on a scope to make certain everything is good. Barry had sent one of the techs to the manufacturer to be certified in rebuilding the board, even though our standard was to just ship them back to the manufacturer and get a replacement.

Sure enough, a couple of days later GC calls in a panic. They have the final occupancy inspection scheduled for the next day, and one of the ADO’s at the entrance is down.

GC: “Your fucking ADO isn’t working. Get down here and fix it.” Barry: “Okay, but this isn’t covered under warranty. It’s billable.” GC: “What the fuck are you talking about? It’s not even been a week and it’s broken. It’s warranty.” Barry: “No, warranties were all voided when you didn’t provide clean power.” GC: “Fuck that. Get down here and put in a new ADO.” Barry: “It doesn’t need a new ADO. It needs a new control board. And I can get a new control board from the manufacturer in 4 to 6 weeks.”

GC loses his mind. There’s no way he can delay the opening of FancyAss for 6 weeks waiting for a part. He calls Barry every name in the book, threatens legal action, etc.

Barry responds, “Look GC, I have a control board on the shelf that was rebuilt by a factory certified technician. I can let you have it at 80% of the list price of a new one, and I can have it installed by noon tomorrow. Do you want the rebuilt, or the new part, and do you agree that this is billable as per the terms of the bid?”

GC: “Yes! Just get the fucking thing fixed by tomorrow!”

Now Barry knows that GC and BigDaddy were going to fuck him just like they did years ago. That ended up being a “I never said that” dispute. What GC didn’t know was every time he called Barry, the call was recorded. You know the “This call may recorded for quality assurance purposes” that you get when you dial in? Well Barry never used his cell phone, never initiated a call, and every time GC called in it was recorded and archived. Every. Single. Time.

Sure enough, another couple of days go by, and an ADO goes down again. Barry asks if GC is good with the rebuild, gets confirmation, removes the blown part, installs the rebuild, then takes the blown control board back to the shop and rebuilds it.

A new control board is $750.00. The rebuild he’s charging $600.00, for a part that maybe costs $75 to get back into shape. The bid specified that non-warranty service was $125/hr minimum 4 hours, so tack on another $500.00 for labour, and it takes maybe 45 minutes to install a new control board and dial it in. So every control board replacement was generating $1,100.00.

There were 27 blown control board swaps in the first 2 months. GC called in every one of them, and Barry got his verbal approval. If someone from FancyAss called in, we gave them GC’s number, and said that we could only come and fix it if GC was the one to call it in.

Then Barry gets a call from Daddy of BigDaddy wanting to know what this invoice for almost 30 grand is for. Barry explains, and a meeting is called, Barry brings his lawyer, and all copies of the sign-off sheets, as well as transcripts of every conversation he had with GC. It becomes very apparent that GC fucked up large, and that Barry had every “I” dotted and every “T” crossed.

BigDaddy is glaring daggers at GC, and basically tells Barry that if he wants to get paid, he’s going to have to sue for the money.

Barry smiles, and slides his ace across the table. It’s a Contractor’s Lien against BigDaddy, FancyAss Restaurant, and Massive Realty Company, the owners of the building.

Here’s the thing. FancyAss was owned by Internationally Famous Chef (IFC), who makes his living getting Very Important People to invest in opening a new restaurant. This is a place where they go to be Very Important, and bring their business contacts with them. After a short time, when the restaurant is the happening place in town, the investors sell the place, and cash out large. IFC sticks around, helps with the transition, and makes a percentage of the restaurant’s profits for the use of his name. He’s built an income stream with the investor’s money, and the investors make a nice return.

Only now they can’t sell, with a lien on the place. And these investors have rabid fucking pitbulls as lawyers. Hell, some of them ARE lawyers.

See you in court, BigDaddy. Only you’re not facing Barry’s lawyer, you’re facing a whole new level of legal expertise. Have fun with that.

Barry got his revenge, and then withdrew service based on the disputed invoice. He’s the only company allowed to service and install this brand of ADO as he has a protected territory from the manufacturer, and does seven figures worth of business with them a year. The only other companies anywhere nearby were warned off by the manufacturer, who even relayed the fact that BigDaddy had called them directly looking for service, and they referred BigDaddy to Barry.

Barry will definitely get paid, as it’s a standard to hold back 10% of the payment to a construction company for a year, and the holdback will definitely cover the invoice. So FancyAss will pay Barry and then take it out of BigDaddy’s holdback. Either that, or they will sue BigDaddy into dust, and force BigDaddy to cough up and settle the lien.

Who knows what company BigDaddy picked up to cover the ADO’s. Barry has friends in the industry and warned them all off, but there are asshole competitors, and Barry didn’t say a thing to them. Maybe BigDaddy is screwing over one of the competition, and what hurts his competition, helps Barry.

What makes this deliciously Pro? You think maybe, just maybe, Barry, who has decades of experience in the industry, might have had an Electrician friend that could show him the Electrical bid? And that maybe Barry knew from the beginning that there was no provision for 120v in either package? Or that the washroom was too small? Or that GC, a corner cutter, would take the easy way out and hook the ADO’s into the air curtain?

Way to go, Barry. Nicely played.

TL;DR A subcontractor complies with a bid, to the letter, and covers his ass in all correspondence, General Contractor ends up paying big dollars for their error, allowing subcontractor to recover money he was screwed out of years ago.

(source) (story by balles_de_acier)

[spacechip707]

[Choi Prank Zine] A Beary Scary Situation

A/N: Story #2 that I’ll be posting from the zine! Stay tuned for more! Enjoy:) 

[Out of Reach] 

[A Beary Scary Situation] 

[Baby, Maybe?]

[Shall We Date?]

He shouldn’t have agreed.

He should’ve put his foot down when Saeyoung came to him two hours ago, bright-eyed and bouncing on his toes with a hard drive containing an illegally downloaded horror film. But, no, Saeran succumbed to his twin’s pleading—rather he just wanted the older man to shut up before the whining began.

However, in this case, he really should’ve been stronger.

Maybe then, he could’ve enjoyed the rarity of a quiet bunker. With MC travelling out of town, Saeyoung had no partner in crime—no supporter of nonsense. The house should’ve been free of giggling, idiotic stories about cats, PDA, and most importantly—excessive stupidity.

Instead, the silent haven of his room had been transformed into a theatre den, defiled with the pungent scent of burnt popcorn and cherry soda. Extra pillows littered his mattress and a laptop was propped onto a chair in front of it. Saeran was planted in the middle of it all, nerves high-strung and his body jolted every ten seconds thanks to the finicky redhead beside him.

Saeyoung was oblivious to his brother’s glares however. His body cowered deep into his long cat blanket, nothing visible except the reflection of the computer screen on his glasses.

“You’re not actually scared of this crap, are you?” Saeran asked in disbelief. Especially since the protagonist was currently combatting a bulbous head under a tattered sheet. “I can see the guy’s nose.”

Still completely engrossed with the bad acting on screen, Saeyoung emerged from his cloth shield to press a finger to his lips. “Look—this is where her soul gets sucked into the teddy bear.”

Before the younger man could even retort, Saeyoung wailed ten times louder than the fake ghost in the movie. Saeran clamped his hands over his ears as the shrill noise pierced his eardrums. Unfortunately, that left him vulnerable when Saeyoung leapt sideways in terror, his nails digging into Saeran’s side.

“I can’t watch,” Saeyoung whimpered from inside his blanket cocoon.

“Get off,” Saeran grunted, wriggling his legs to free himself from his brother’s clutches. The woman in the film screamed again, and Saeyoung followed suit, both arms sliding around his brother’s middle.

And that’s where Saeran drew the line.

More from annoyance than compassion, he shut the laptop and flipped the lamp switch. Saeyoung popped out from his covering, squinting from the sudden burst of light.

“Hey,” he frowned, turning to the computer in confusion. “That’s the best part.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even watching it,” Saeran said, ramming his knee into his brother’s side until he tumbled to the floor with a thud. “Besides, I don’t get your whole deal with horror films. They’re lame.”

Saeyoung rebounded on his knees. He draped his upper half over Saeran’s legs before the latter could protest. If he was clingy on normal days, he was much clingier without MC.

“Horror! Immersion! The thrill of facing something scary!” Saeyoung said, slapping his hands against Saeran’s shins with each point. “You can pretend you’re there with them in the tiny car—watching ghosts possess the kids. Oooh!”

His fingers crawled up Saeran’s legs until they were promptly swatted away. Saeran extracted on leg from Saeyoung’s hold, using the momentum to kick his brother back to the floor.

“It’s not scary,” he insisted.

Saeyoung chuckled from the ground. “Maybe not. But it was still fun, right?” he said, goofy grin subsiding to a soft smile as he gestured to the mess of snacks, pillows, and blankets. “Like a sleepover.”

Saeran wanted to deny it, but the trickle of warmth burning underneath his annoyance spoke otherwise. Carefree nights with his brother were…nice. Even Saeyoung’s erratic tendencies became endearing somehow. Not that Saeran would admit it.

“We live in the same house,” he pointed out, squirming under his twin’s admiring gaze.

“Still different!” Saeyoung chirped. The blanket on his shoulders pooled at his feet when he stood, adding to the present clutter. “But the soda’s gone. Should I pick up some more?”

Not waiting for an answer, he dug into his pocket for his car keys and spun them on his pointer finger. The Hamborgini logo flashed in the dim light. “Maybe I’ll go on a date with my babes too. You’ll be fine here alone?”

“Duh,” Saeran snorted.

“You sure?” Saeyoung drawled, face lurching annoying close into Saeran’s bubble. “What if a ghost comes to take you?”

He wiggled his fingers menacingly, but the younger twin barely spared him a glance of indifference. “Go, before I tell MC you’re having an affair with your cars again.”

“So mean!” Saeyoung whined, retreating into the hallway. “Fine, I’ll go alone. But just know…the three of us could’ve had something special.”

Saeran didn’t want to contemplate that questionable statement. “Just go.”

Saeyoung’s teeth flashed in a devious grin. “Don’t get your soul sucked while I’m away!”

With a screeching giggle, he bolted down the hall, shutting off the lights as he went—no doubt to spook his twin. Didn’t work.

Saeran sighed in relief when he heard the front door shut. He kicked his own door closed, creating a barrier for when his brother returned on a sugar high.

Finally alone, Saeran flopped onto the empty mattress. His limbs sprawled across the crowded surface, stretching out the gathered tension from the past hour. The bunker’s usual scent of honey gradually replaced the stale essence of cherry soda, and the comfort provided by the extra cushions lulled Saeran to the precipice of sleep.

Sleep that lasted all of three minutes.

The crackling of electricity yanked him from his sweet slumber. With a resigned sigh, he sat upright, assuming one of Saeyoung’s faulty robots had meandered inside his room—again. But he found the source of the whirring coming from his lamp. The lightbulb wavered between light and dark, rhythm in sync with the electrical droning.

Saeran wandered from his bed to the door. Maybe the bunker’s power generator was glitching. Before he could even reach the doorknob to check, darkness enveloped the room.

“The hell…” Saeran grumbled. He patted his dressed for a flashlight, though he didn’t need it. With the sound of a click, the lights were back. Then off…then on…off again.

One more click, and the bulbs held. The room appeared dimmer than before, bathing the walls in an eerie brownish light. Despite his head telling him the generator probably overheated, his blood ran cold in his veins.

That’s when he heard footsteps.

At first, he assumed Saeyoung had forgotten something, but then again, there was no loud, cheesy greeting. Ridiculous as it was, Saeran pressed his ear against the door, straining for some off-tune hum or murmur of his brother’s voice.

Nothing. Even the footsteps stopped.

He shook his head and pushed himself off the door. He probably just imagined them.

Still, fear crept under his skin, causing his fingers to shake when he reached for the doorknob. For a moment, the darkness seeping underneath his door took shape before dissolving back into nothingness. He groaned and let his hand fall to his side.

He was being stupid. Hanging around Saeyoung for so long caused his idiocy to infect him.

Ignoring the wave of chills that skittered down his neck, Saeran drew the door open and faced the abyss of darkness that was the hall. Twisted shapes loomed in the corners, but he knew they were just furniture. Those spindly legs were a table—and the oblong figure was just the coat rack. Nothing to be squeamish over.

That resolution didn’t stop his hand from deftly shooting out to the wall when something creaked overhead. Light poured into the hall, reaffirming what he had already reasoned. Just furniture.

Despite having no witnesses, his cheeks burned in embarrassment. At least the lights were working…or maybe they’d been working all along.

“Very funny, Saeyoung,” he called, plodding forward to find his twin who was probably giggling from the living room’s control panel. Along the way, he switched on the other lights—so he wouldn’t trip, of course.

As expected, he reached the living room unscathed, body and soul intact.  He searched for signs of his brother, but the room was empty with everything orderly and undisturbed—including the panel on the wall, its padlock in place.

The only off-putting thing in the room was the giant stuffed teddy bear in the corner. To be fair, Saeran hated that thing from the moment Saeyoung had gifted it to MC. He hated it even more when his sister-in-law insisted on storing it in the living room for “cuddles.”

The bear was creepy with its unwavering smile, slouched posture, and dead glass eyes. In fact, he could’ve sworn the toy was staring at him now too. If ghosts were real and able to tamper with lights, that bear would be the prime suspect in the house.

Saeran shook his head, dispersing the ridiculous thoughts haunting his brain. It was just faulty electricity.

What he needed was something to bring him back to his senses. He needed ice cream.

Forgetting about the current situation, Saeran headed to the kitchen to retrieve his delicious treat from the freezer. As soon as he pried open the top, the delicate fragrance of strawberries and cream wrapped him in its delicious, airy comfort and absolved his unfounded fears.

Tossing the lid aside, he cradled the whole container in his arms and returned to the living room. He settled into his designated couch crease, eagerly sinking his spoon into the cream. His taste buds exploded as soon as the flavor blossomed in his mouth. The bliss was intoxicating.

So much so, he imagined MC’s bear leaned its head towards him—almost as if craving the same experience.  

He snorted at the thought, digging into the carton for another scoop. When he looked back up, the arm of the bear rested over its stomach. Wasn’t it just on the floor? More than that, Saeran could’ve sworn the furry chest was actually rising and falling.

He crawled off the couch and inched towards the bear. Not that he was paranoid by that B-rated ghost story. He just needed one little poke to its stomach—just to alleviate his dwindling sanity. He lifted his foot to the bulging stomach, but before his toe even brushed it, its arm fell back to the floor.

Shock forced Saeran to fling the item in his hand—which happened to be his spoon still laden with ice cream. The utensil landed right between the bears eyes, sliding down its protruding nose and leaving a trail of pink cream in its wake. Saeran swore under his breath.

“MC is going to kill me,” he muttered, desperately looking for anything to salvage the fur. Momentarily forgetting what he witnessed, he set the carton aside and snatched a tissue off the table. When he turned back, the bear was sitting completely upright.

Saeran’s heart plummeted into his stomach. By logic, stuffed bears didn’t come alive. Also by logic, the house was empty. Neither explained the physical evidence unfolding before his eyes of the gigantic beige bear shuffling its legs.

Maybe this was a nightmare. Maybe his body was punishing him for drinking his brother’s stupid soda. Those were more plausible explanations…right?

Almost as if it had heard his internal struggle, the bear rolled its large head until those beady eyes bore into Saeran’s own. Throwing logic to the wind, Saeran scrambled backwards, his hand fumbling around the TV remote for defense.

“St-stop,” he commanded. He felt idiotic and terrified all at once. “Don’t move, or—or—I’ll--”

He’d what? Call Ghoulbursters?

Unfazed by his unfinished threat, the bear pushed itself to its clunky feet. Saeran screamed in horror as the hellish toy stumbled closer, nearly collapsing onto him.   

“Get away from me!” he shouted, flinging the remote onto the bear’s head. It let out an unnerving moan, its paws cradling the offending area. Saeran used the diversion to toss the abandoned ice cream, further drenching the creature in the sticky mess.

The bear continued to smear itself with melted cream while Saeran frantically darted about the room, gauging a means of escape. It was no use. The way to the door was blocked, and the kitchen led to a dead end.

Meanwhile, the bear increased its pace. Its legs marched forward, and a trail of cotton followed its steps like spilled organs. Not to mention the ice cream dripping from its head eerily resembled blood.

Saeran swallowed hard, creeping backwards to hopefully lure it away from the door. He clutched the hem of his shirt to stop his shaking hands. One foot at a time. One step at a time. That was the plan until the bear lunged forward, almost clasping Saeran in its furry grip of death.  

To hell with tactics.

Saeran dashed towards freedom—a mere three meters away. But he never made it. Those terrifying paws grappled his waist until his body plummeted to the ground with the bear’s chilling grin hovering above him.

His head spun with fear, and whether or not this was real or a nightmare, Saeran’s trembling body wasn’t coping well. In a final crazed attempt to break free, he twisted sideways and clawed for the edge of the doorway.

“Help!” he called into the empty hall. The bear readjusted its grip on his middle, grabbing hold of one of his legs instead.  Saeran fingers slipped from their post, worsening the desperation winding in his veins. His eyes fell onto his brother’s computer room, and his chest panged with undecipherable, chaotic emotion.

“Saeyoung!” he screamed almost involuntarily. His vocal cords were raw and sore, but he shut his eyes and prayed the technology in this house would somehow transfer the message. “Saeyoung, help me!”

Then suddenly, the grip on his leg fell.

Only half-relieved, Saeran scrambled behind the door to safety. When he dared look back, he expected the security system to have roasted the thing into flames. What he didn’t expect was the bear’s head deflated on its chest with a familiar mop of red hair sprouting from its body like a weed.

“Saeran,” Saeyoung said, his voice wobbling. “You…”

“No way,” Saeran breathed.

His fear morphed into a sickening mix of anger and embarrassment. Of course someone was inside. What was he even thinking—a bear coming alive? Chasing him? Conveniently after a horror film? It had Saeyoung written all over it.

The man in question was literally crying now, wiping his tears with matted paws. “You called me for help?”

Before he could full process everything, Saeran was pummeled into a literal bear hug that reeked of melted ice cream and sweat. His cheeks burned. He wasn’t sure what was more humiliating. The fact that he fell for the whole prank or the fact that he accidentally revealed some unknown, existing affection inside of him for his brother.

An affection that didn’t exist now.

Full of cold rage, his fists clutched the undone bow at the bear’s neck. Saeyoung’s puffy eyes widened at the sound of fabric tearing.

“Get this stupid thing off,” Saeran said through gritted teeth. “So I can beat the stuffing out of you.”

Saeyoung dropped the embrace, attempting to pry Saeran away, but without the use of his fingers, it was hopeless. His throat bobbed in a hard swallow, and his watery eyes pleaded with Saeran. “C-can’t we forget about this? We had a bonding moment! Brotherly love!”

Saeran snorted, a few more threads snapping under the strain of his grip. “Oh, I’ll show you brotherly love.”

Before he could follow through with his threat, a gasp of dread came from the doorway. Saeyoung’s face paled, but not because of Saeran.  

“MC…” Saeyoung said, reaching towards his traumatized wife, gaping at the gruesome scene before her. The lump of cotton hanging from the bear’s head wasn’t helping. “I can explain.”

The angelic light usually aglow in the woman’s eyes vanished as her steely gaze shifted from the mangled bear to the guilty twin. Her lips curled into a vengeful scowl, and Saeran discovered something far scarier than the stuffed bear. Thankfully, he wasn’t on the receiving end, but...he was more than willing to help with whatever she was formulating behind that wicked glare.

Saeyoung was going to pay.

“Saeran, please…let’s talk about this.”

Saeran turned away from the plastic cage on the table to look at his trembling twin tied to a chair. His hands were bound on his lap by the ribbon of the now deceased stuffed bear. “Too late now, loser.”

Saeyoung wriggled against his binds, glancing desperately towards the door. “MC!” he cried. “Honey! Sweetie! Help me!”

“She’s not here,” Saeran said, slipping his hands into heavy duty gloves. “But she gave me her blessing.”

He turned back to the cage where a tarantula the size of his face was perched on a fake rock. Thanks to Yoosung’s connections with some vet friends, he had the perfect revenge. The creature crawled onto his fully protected arm, allowing him to lift it out of the cage and closer to his now sobbing brother.

Extreme, yes, but Saeyoung deserved it.

The screaming started before the spider had even touched him, and a warm, happy buzz filled Saeran’s head with every terrified howl.  He lowered the spider onto the ribbon, watching as Saeyoung’s entire body stiffened.

“Saeran! No! Please—no!” he begged, his broken cries dying on his quivering lips.

“What was that you said before?” Saeran said, tilting his head innocently. “The horror? The thrill of facing something scary?”

“I’m sorry!” Saeyoung shrieked. “I won’t ever prank you again! Just get it off!”

Saeran clicked his tongue, ambling towards tripod set up in the corner of the room. Calmly, he aimed the camera towards the squawking older man.

“Hey, Saeyoung,” he grinned, snatching his brother’s attention. “Smile.”

He didn’t, but Saeran couldn’t find a photo of his brother he loved more.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Ohana: Part 5

Pairings: Negan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,805

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So can I ask you something?” Negan asked softly as he brushed his fingers across the scar on the end of your stump. You nodded as you ran your fingers across Brenna’s back as she slept and looked across the pillows at your sleep over partner. “What happened… with your leg?” You gave him a weak smile and sighed.

“Were you in the military?” Negan shook his head as he scooted impossibly closer to you around Brenna. “It’s terrifying. Even though I was on a secure base and I was just a doctor, I still woke up every single morning in fear. Fear of what people were actually capable of. You see, back home, you guys saw on TV maybe half of what I knew actually happened. Suicide bombers were taking us out multiple times a day, every single damn day. IED’s every ten feet on and off every single road coming in and going out of the place. Kids… little kids with guns that saw our uniforms and shot on sight, no questions asked. But I had a job to do. Same as I did before and same as I do now. It was just supposed to be a job.” You sighed and let your head rolled back on the pillow so you could look up at the ceiling.

“There were five of us; one doc, three soldiers, and me, the soldier doc in training. We were just leaving base for a couple hours to meet with a supply drop off. We made it to the drop off point just fine, no problems. But the way back…” You closed your eyes and shook your head to combat your tears. “The IED came out of fucking no where. Just came out of fucking no where. One minute we were just driving along and the next I was laying in the hot sand looking up at the sky with my leg pinned under the humvee. I just remember screaming…”

“Hey… stop, it’s OK.” Negan said as he took his hand off your leg and reached up to gently grab your chin with his thumb and pointer finger to turn your face toward him. You opened your tear filled eyes and searched his sad brown eyes. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head and sniffled.

“It’s fine. I haven’t talked about it in a long, long time.” He nodded in understanding as he laced his fingers with yours under the pillows under Brenna’s head.

“Lucille was my wife.” He said softly as he brushed his thumb across your chin. “She had cancer just before the fall. I… well fuck… I was cheating on her for the longest damn time before we found out but the thought of losing her brought me home. She lasted a few months before the cancer took her just as the fall happened. But I couldn’t put her down…”

“Shhh…” You said softly as you squeezed his hand. “So we both have ugly pasts. We had to be shaped somehow, right?” He huffed and nodded as he cupped your jaw in his hand.

“Can I tell you something that can’t leave this fucking room?” You nodded at him as you stopped rubbing Brenna’s back and put your hand on his. “I’m really fucking glad you head butted me in the face.” You huffed a laugh as you laced your fingers with his on your cheek.

“Is it OK that I’m not glad you kicked me in the head?” He smiled and nodded his head with a small laugh.

“Yea sweetheart. You don’t have to be glad about that.”

——

“So what’s the fucking damage?” Negan asked his crew leaders as he walked into his meeting room. He pointed you to a chair at the end of the table with Lucille as he walked the other way to his chair at the head of the table. You could feel eyes boring into the side of your face as you took your seat before Simon finally spoke up.

“We only lost those two solar panels.” He started, drawing the eyes of most of the people in the room. You looked at the man sitting directly to your left as he looked down the table at Negan and leaned back in his chair. “Part of a fence was taken out on the south side but it was the outer ring. I got a crew out there now fixing it.”

“Gardens got a little tore up.” Dwight said as he folded his hands on the table. “But everything is salvageable.”

“Little bit of flooding in the main hall but no more than usual.” Gavin chimed in. Negan nodded as he rolled Lucille on his shoulder.

“So how do we fucking fix this panel shit?”

“Well, with the panels out, we can move everyone out of the halls that lost power.” Dwight suggested. You opened your mouth to say something, but Negan held up his finger for you to wait. The room stayed quiet as Negan waited impatiently for another suggestion.

“What about rerouting some of the other panels. The clinic’s down that way and moving it would be a pain.” Gavin said, his suggestion coming out more like a question.

“The old clinic wasn’t affected though.” Regina said as she looked at you out of the corner of her eye with so much disdain that you actually cocked your eyebrow at her. “We’ll just move her back down there. And there’s only half dozen rooms that were affected. The armory was affected but we don’t need fucking lights to use it. That whole hall can be washed…” Her words were interrupted by a loud bang as Negan slammed Lucille down on the table.

“My fucking room is down that fucking hall!” Negan roared causing Dwight, Gavin, and Regina to startle the slightest bit, while you and Simon didn’t look affected at all. “Now, since you fucking assholes can only come up with fucking scraping the hall or fucking taking power from other people, why don’t we let someone with some fucking real ideas speak.” He grabbed Lucille off the table and gestured to you as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table. 

“Eight unused solar panels. Easy access. Run is in and out in a secured neighborhood. You can replace the two that got burned out and have six more to spare. Cables, batteries, connectors, mount poles; all of it’s there in a locked garage. You don’t lose rooms, don’t have to move my clinic. And as for the leak in the main hall, there’s some storm shutters in the garage as well. Screw them down right over the hole, the slats will redirect the water off the roof. Problem number two solved. 

You can pull up some of my neighbor’s fence if you need it, too. It’s chain link and I’m sure I’ve got some shit in my garage to put it up if you don’t. Solves problem three if your crew hasn’t solved it already. The garden… well that shit’s gunna flood. Nothing I can really do about that.” You shrugged your shoulder as you sat back in your chair. “Simple.” You forced yourself to not look away from Negan to avoid seeing the death stares you were receiving from the rest of his inner circle. After a moment, he nodded and scooted his chair back.

“We ride out in fucking thirty. Get your fucking shit together, people.”

——

“Fourth house down on the right. It’s the keystone of the cul-de-sac.” You called out to Negan as you pushed the fence that went around your neighborhood opened. “It’s the only one with the shutters all closed. Wait out front, you won’t be able to get in.” He nodded his head once and signaled for Simon to drive past you and into your old, quarantined neighborhood. You kept yourself out of the way as the crew followed after him in a box truck and your brother-in-law’s pick-up truck. With a heavy sigh, you walked your motorcycle into the fence before pulling it closed and wrapping the chain around the gates to keep any biters out. The ride through your old neighborhood was comforting and nauseating at the same time but you couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at your lips as you looked at your small, secured, two story house.

“I need you around back.” You said to Negan as you pulled into the driveway. “There’s only one way into this place from the outside.” He gave his men the instruction to check the houses on your street as you pulled off your helmet and headed around the back through the six foot tall, locked, steel fence around your property. You let out a sigh as you looked at the black, metal door that stood in front of a small hill that you knew lead to your underground home. “Four years.” You said softly as you kept walking to the roof that went over your back porch. “Four fucking years. Can I get a boost?” You asked as you pointed to the roof. He nodded as he pulled his eyes off the door and looked over at you. You shoved your bike keys into your pocket and put your left foot into the cradle of his interlaced fingers.

“How the fuck did you get down the first time?” He grunted as he lifted you up into the air. You laughed as you pulled yourself onto the roof and glanced down at him over the edge.

“Very fucking carefully. I’ll meet you at the garage.” With a nod from him, you got to your feet a little awkwardly and headed over to the window that lead to your old bedroom. You quickly unlocked the padlock and put the combination into the secondary lock so you could push open the rolling, metal shutter. Every thing was left exactly where you left it when you hauled ass out the door five years before. Clothing littered the floor and drawers hung from your dresser. Hangers decorated the areas of the wood floor the clothes didn’t cover and you noticed a half dozen articles of clothing that would have come in handy in the winter months.

You headed down the hall, choosing not to look at the family photos that lined the walls of the short hall and the stairwell. You continued through the kitchen, that you had stripped bare the day you got the news, and headed out into your packed garage. You could hear Negan shouting on the other side of the door as you went over and unlocked the two locks keeping the door down. With a small grunt, you pulled the door up and sighed.

“There’s nothing left inside but take whatever you want from here. Just let me know when you’re done. I gotta grab a couple things from out back.”

“Care if I tag along? I wanna check out this fucking bunker of yours.” You nodded at him as you headed out of the garage and around the side of your house. 

“Can you promise me something?” You asked as you headed toward the bunker door. You heard Negan hum as you put in the code for the door. “Promise me that if something happens to me or to the Sanctuary, you’ll bring Brenna back here. Promise me that you’ll be her guardian.” You looked back over your shoulder as the lock on the door popped open and he nodded his head.

“I promise you. I’ll always look after both of you.” With a nod of your head, you pulled open the door and flicked on the lights. Halogen lights crackled on and flooded the container with bright light. You flicked one of the light bulbs that always gave you trouble on your way down the stairs and sighed as you hit the bottom.

“So this is home.” You stepped a few feet into the area that was designated as your kitchen and looked around. “This is where I raised my daughter.”

“Holy fucking fuckity fuck.” Negan muttered as he tried to take in everything. He whistled as he looked at the hundreds of labeled tote boxes meticulously organized and stacked along the left side wall of the bunker from the small kitchen all the way to the small closet beside the queen sized bed in the back corner. More boxes lined the back wall and continued up the right side to the bathroom filling in every inch of available space along the walls. Toys that you had been forced to leave behind littered the floor and a small pile of clothes that you had needed to fold were sitting in the basket by the pull out couch that sat on the right side of the small bunker. “This is fucking insane.” You huffed a laugh and nodded as you headed over to the closet to grab a duffle bag and your guitar case.

“I wanted to be prepared for anything.” You said as you emptied the laundry basket into the duffle. “If you can think of something to help you out, it’s here. Medicine, weapons, kitchen shit… it’s all here. I know you need supplies but I can’t let you raid this place. Not yet. I need to know that I always have a back up for my daughter…”

“No, it’s OK. I understand.” You nodded at him in gratitude as he gestured around the bunker. “What do you need from here?”

“Um… just some clothes and my guitar. Oh, and this box of VHS tapes and DVD’s. Give Brenna a little variety. I have copies of all them so it’s not a huge deal if I lose them.” He nodded as he stepped around you and grabbed the box of Disney, Dreamwork's, Pixar, and Universal animated movies you picked up from thrift stores before the fall. You glanced in the box quickly as you put the strap of your guitar case over your shoulder and nodded at its contents. “Oh! Wait, I need this one.” You pulled out the box for ‘Tangled’ and went over to grab the disc from the TV. You heard Negan chuckle.

“One of her favorites?” He inquired as you put the DVD back into the box. You smirked and shook your head.

“Stitch is her favorite. She always wanted a dog and that was the closest I could get. I was just tired of hearing the same movie over and over so I made a rule that she had to watch a different movie between each viewing of Stitch. She was watching Tangled so I could pack Stitch the morning we left.”

“Well thank fucking God for that rule.” Negan said as you grabbed a hoodie for you and one for Brenna from your closet and stuck them on top of the box. “I’m tired of that movie already and it’s only been a couple months.”

“Come on, let’s get back before those assholes start breaking shit in my house out of spite.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“God, you are not getting lighter, little girl.” You groaned as you picked up Brenna from one of the nap cots in the day care. You hiked her up on your hips and wrapped your arms around her middle and under her butt as her arms wrapped around your neck.

“Want me to get her?” Negan asked. You shook your head as you headed out of the room with a slightly more prominent limp from the added weight. 

“I got it. I only get to do this for so long, you know?” He nodded his head and followed you down the hall toward your room that hopefully had power by now. As you rounded the corner to head up the stairs, laughter caught your attention.

“What does he even see in her?” You heard Frankie asked over the tittering of the other wives in their room. “I mean, come on!”

“He has to feel sorry for her. I mean, that leg is disgusting.” Another woman chimed in. You quickly reached out, grabbed Negan’s arm and mouthed for him to ‘wait’ as the wives continued.

“She’s only sleeping with him so he’ll protect that brat of hers. That kid runs wild…”

“Oh, I know!” Sherry chimed in over the girl. “It’s sad, really. You know, that kid should be put out of the misery of having a cripple for a mother in this world.” The girls laughed as you tightened your grip on Negan’s leather jacket in your fury.

“I bet he feels sorry for her.” Amber chimed in, her voice meek and almost unheard. “I would. Crippled, obviously mentally disturbed, single mom… get in her pants and have the doc in his pocket. Disgusting leg or not, it’s a power move…” The woman stayed quiet for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles as the sounds of chairs scraping across the floor covered the noise of their laugh and the creak of Negan’s leather glove on Lucille.

“I bet Negan probably has to fuck her with the lights off just to be able to…” Frankie’s words died in her throat as the small group rounded the corner of the hall you and Negan were standing in. You could feel Negan’s arm shaking with rage as he glared at his wives.

“So… you fucking whores have something to say?” He asked as he pulled his arm out of your grip and lowered Lucille. “No, please… let’s fucking hear your fucking concerns.” You rubbed Brenna’s back softly as you tried to control your own rage while the wives scooted closer to each other in a ball of black dresses and revealing displayed skin. “Let’s fucking see… she’s a whore?” He asked as he took a step forward and spun Lucille around. He chuckled and shook his head. “No… no that would fucking be you. She’s fucking disgusting? Nope still not fucking close. That would be you fucking bitches, too.”

“Negan...” Sherry tried as she shifted her body in front of Amber’s as the small group of five women cried silently in terror.

“Quiet!” He shouted as he pointed at her with the bat inches away from her face. “You’ve fucking said your peace! Now where the fuck was I?”

“Killing Brenna.” You chimed in casually as you looked at the sleeping girl in your arm.

“Thank you, sweetheart. So you wanna fucking kill an innocent little girl because you fucking think a ‘cripple’ can’t fucking be a fucking mother? Fucking wrong again because she managed to keep that little girl alive by her fucking self for five fucking years! You fucking bitches couldn’t last one fucking minute out there by yourselves let alone with a fucking kid! And fucking finally, not that our sex life is any of your fucking business, but this woman puts each and every one of you to fucking shame in the bedroom.” Your eyes barely darted over to him because you had never actually had sex with him before but you looked back at the wives as you shifted your weight to your left leg as best as you could so you wouldn’t fall over on your sore stump.

“Now, I try not to fucking beat women but you fucking cunts are making Lucille fucking thirsty just by fucking existing right fucking now.” Two of the women let out choked sobs as Negan swung his bat centimeters away from Frankie’s face. “But I got a fucking better idea since I have the fucking doc in my pocket and all. Each one of you has a fucking family member or two being treated by her for fucking free. That shit ends fucking now! Their fucking treatment and fucking meds will need to be paid for by fucking points. So I fucking strongly suggest you fucking conniving scum get your fucking asses to work to get them their shit. Your free ride is fucking over! But just remember... you still fucking belong to me!” He glared at the women with so much hate you had to wonder how these women hadn’t died from the look alone. “You better fucking get the fuck out of my fucking face right now before I let Lucille take her fucking blood.” The women scrambled to flee around you as Negan swung his bat over his shoulder.

“Can you take her?” You asked softly as you tried to shift again and Negan whipped back toward you.

“Fuck. Sorry, sweetheart, give her here.” He set Lucille down against the wall and carefully took Brenna from your arms with a huff. “God, you’re right, she is fucking heavy.” You smirked and picked up Lucille to follow after him. 

“So I put them to shame in the bedroom?” You laughed as you headed up the stairs to your hallway one step at a time.

“Abso-fucking-lutely, baby girl. You’ve got a fucking brain which is more than I can fucking say about all of them fucking combined.” He paused at your door to wait for you to catch up with a smile. “And I don’t even have to fucking sleep with you yet to know that if and when we do, you’re gunna fucking blow my mind.” You flushed red and rolled your eyes as you unlocked your bedroom door.

“Stop.” He chuckled as he laid Brenna down on your pillow. With a smile, he stood up straight and reached for your arm. He pulled you into his chest and gently grabbed your hips.

“You are too amazing for fucking words. And the only thing that fucking matters is my opinion...”

“Oh, I’m not phased by them.” You said as you brushed your hands up his arms to his shoulders. “I’ve heard it all. The only people’s opinion that matters to me is my daughter... and you.” He smiled down and you as he stepped a half step closer so his chest pressed against yours.

“You have no fucking idea how happy that makes me, (Y/N).” You hummed in content agreement as he leaned down and captured your lips with his. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him but he pulled away entirely too quickly for your liking. Negan chuckled at your whine and gave you one more chaste kiss. “Bed time, baby girl. Let’s get you off that leg.” You let out an annoyed sigh for only a second until Negan picked you up by the backs of your thighs and carried you over to the other side of the bed so that you would be in the middle of the bed.

“We need a babysitter or some shit.” You said as you scooted across the green comforter you had on your bed. “This kid is like the biggest cock block ever.”

Part 6

[quantumdotdot]

Marvel Masks: Earth-218, Session 1

We played the tabletop role-playing game Masks: A New Generation in an alternate version of Marvel’s Earth. This starts with stuff that we did as part of character creation, world-building, and “Session 0″ as it’s called, then going into the actual start of the narrative! I’ll be posting updates as the campaign continues.

You won’t need mechanical knowledge of the Masks system to understand it, though I definitely encourage anyone who’s interested in playing a superhero RPG, especially one involving teens, to give it a look.  I realized I’d never put this up anywhere but Twitter, and this campaign is honestly too good to keep to ourselves.

Also, shout-out to @Zhurenaissance for doing the lion's share of the initial world-building/prep; he's an incredible writer and I honestly couldn't have done it without him.

So, here ya go... Earth-218.

Cast of Characters

Shatterstar (he/him) - The Bull

Very tall (6’ 4”/6’ 5”), long red hair, about 18-19

Was actually born maybe(?) but thinks he was created in the genevats of Arize

Fought in gladiatorial combat on Mojoworld. Has 2 braids in his hair, a tradition for revolutionaries to show how many Spineless Ones he has killed

Tells people he and Rictor met by being at the same school

Billy Kaplan (he/him) - The Nova

16-17, skinny and short, wears t-shirts when not in combat

Has always been able to do small things with his powers

Recently had a back-against-the-wall moment with bullies and fought back, causing “property damage” when his powers manifested in full force

Hurt bystanders as well during the incident, which upset Billy. He found a mentor in Dr. Strange, who was training Billy to be the next Sorcerer Supreme, before Strange had his power stripped from him and stolen by some unknown assailant

Jen/Jennifer Walters (she/her) - The Transformed

Late 20s-early 30s, tall, looks ordinary

Jen is Jennifer Walters, not She-Hulk. Very important

Has been working as a lawyer/attorney in NYC, specializing in the rights of marginalized people, especially mutants

Her She-Hulk form changed dramatically post-Civil War and she is still dealing with the death of Rhodey, her boyfriend. Bruce also got killed shortly thereafter.

Tries not to transform into She-Hulk and has been hiding her emotions and grief. She is very unsure of her place in life, and looks to the kids of the team for help and support

Alex (they/them) - The Reformed

Looks 18. Looks thin, but is deceptively strong

Is a child created by Cyttorak the demon god to take over Teens totally normal human Teen, what are you talking about

“When our team first came together…”

Bull/Shatterstar: We defeated a dangerous enemy. Who or what was it?

Alex Summers. After Scott died, Alex was having a bad time, so Madelyne Pryor, Goblin Queen, convinced him to embrace his dark destiny as the Goblin Prince

Maddy has a classy black jumpsuit that shows minimal skin, whereas Alex gets a Sexy Badass Costume Change

The team fought off a bunch of goblins who had showed up at the school to claim it for the Goblin Queen

Nova/Billy: We destroyed our surroundings in the fight. Where was it? What did we destroy?

The fight was as the indoor/outdoor gym complex. Goblins took a basket hoop/pole, which was animated so that the hoop was a tongue and the backboard was a face. It blew a raspberry at the team as the goblins carted it away. The goblins also tried to take the biggest trophy from them but it ran around from them. It’s now a pet animated trophy.

Billy and Havok had a one-vs-one, Billy struggled with his shield powers, trying to shield the team and the school from Alex’s blasts, but lost control and the blasts ricocheted everywhere, collapsing several walls. Billy had to do detention to clean it up since the Xavier Institute is all about learning to take responsibility for your powers.

Maddie wasn’t happy with her Goblin Prince after looking at all the trash the goblins brought back.

Transformed/Jen: We drew attention and ire from plenty during the fight. One important person in particular now hates and fears us. Who is it?

J. Jonah Jameson now has an axe to grind against both the school and the team in particular after the mess from the goblin fight spilled out into Central Park a little bit. Not everyone listens to him, but a lot of the police and the Olds do. So that’s tough. He doesn’t have time for pictures of Spiderman now. Spider-Man has also never been confirmed to exist, he is a cryptid. JJ has hundreds of extremely blurry pictures of Spider-Man.

Reformed/Alex: We fought a terrible enemy from my old life. Who was it and what did they take from me?

Erik the Red worked with Maddy to send the goblins to the school as a smokescreen for testing Alex.

Nightmare also showed up at the school, who is this universe’s version of Toad; he’s a demon who is also part goblin. He carries a spinal hobby horse that summons a spectral horse that keeps the spine/bone ghost head.

Lower status among demons because he’s part goblin

He stole Alex’s staff from the locker room, that let them channel their powers through the staff while fighting.

Relationships

Shatterstar

Billy is your “love”.* You’ve opened up to them about the worst parts of your past.

Star saw the destruction Billy caused after standing up to the Goblin Prince and got stars in his eyes. He thinks Billy has the heart of a warrior and told him about his past in the dueling arenas, which freaks Billy out a little bit.  

Alex is your “rival”. They tried to control you at a crucial moment.

Alex knows a little bit about fighting, but they and Star come from very different schools of thought. They tried to tell Star how he should fight during the Goblin fight and Star holds a grudge against them for that.

* (Note: Shatterstar is still dating Julio, the "love" is a mechanical thing for Shatterstar's class. Billy is the only one he's opened up to on the team.)

Billy

You hang out all the time with Jen to blow off steam.

They bonded over baking cookies. Billy tries to bribe the other kids to be friends with him by sharing cookies. He once walked in on Jen hurling a stand mixer through the wall after getting frustrated, and now Jen calms down by watching Billy bake in the giant Xavier Institute kitchen. He learned how to bake at a young age by peering over the counter top on a step-stool when his bubbe was baking.

You once hurt Alex when you lost control of your powers.

Billy thinks that he hurt Alex during the goblin fight by making some that had poison spit lose their poison and accidentally hit Alex. Obviously, Alex is fine, but Billy still feels extremely guilty about all of it.

Jen

Shatterstar comforted me when I was at my lowest.

Star reassured Jen when she was about to Get Angry and hulk out after the Goblin fight. She was trying to stay calm and not lose her head after avoiding her ugly emotions and it hadn't been going well. Shatterstar helped by reassuring her that she had helped them and that she had a place with them on the team.

Laura / X-23 / Wolverine knew me before I changed.

Laura knew Jen from before, and fought her in a 1v1. Jen defeated her then, but ever since Civil War ended, Jen hasn’t been the same. Laura has faith in her that she can become the Jen she once knew again, so they can have a rematch and Laura can win fair and square this time, and so tries to encourage her. Laura maintains she could have defeated Jen if she had to though. Jen lets her think so.

Alex

I’ve earned the trust of Billy, and I follow their example of what a hero should be.

Alex wandered by when Billy was serving detention for the destruction he caused to the athletics facility. Billy had Alex help him clean up while they talked, and Alex looks up to Billy as an inspiration of what good guys are.

I did something terrible to Jen once. I hope they can forgive me one day

Jen was having trouble sleeping once, and Alex was a little low on energy, so they selfishly drained Jen, forcing her to go to sleep but leaving her feeling worse than it was. They feel terrible about it.

The Story, So Far...

It is the third and final day of the Super-Human Law seminar hosted by Jen at the Charles Xavier Institute for Mutant Academics and Outreach, located smack dab in the middle of Central Park, NYC. Once Jen has concluded her final topic and wrap-up on “Know Your Rights: How to Talk to the Police As a Mutant,” headmaster Kitty Pryde walks up on the stage and thanks Jen, calling for a round of applause. Jen looks visibly awkward. Kitty also brought up Claudette and Nicole St. Croix, the “Monet Twins” and the self-dubbed school cheerleading squad. They’ve composed a song with call and response that the whole school takes part in to see her off:

“Teacher and Students Yes-sir-eee We have a lot of fun Cuz’ Teacher and Students are We! Though our time is ending We learned a lot you see! We’ll never turn a frown Cuz Teacher and Students are We!”

The normally zoned out and distant Claudette transforms into a carefree girl for the duration of their choreographed song and dance. As soon as it ends, Nicole explains that she and Claudette wanted to show their thanks on behalf of both them and the entire school. The entire time, Jen was a bit tuned out, checking her phone and generally not loving being the center of this particular brand of awkward attention. Once the thanks are said and the dance number is over, Claudette folds back in on herself, only to be shuffled off the stage by her twin-caretaker.

After that, Kitty gestures to Jen to take a seat, and uses the opportunity of the assembly of 6th-12th graders to introduce the new transfer student Ginny Wayword. As she tries to introduce Ginny to the school, a loud thumping starts off-panel. Kitty keeps going with the introductions and a wide smile, but sweat starts to stream down the side of her face. The thumping gets louder, and eventually turns into vampires arriving by bursting through a wall in a cloud of bats. When the bat cloud disappears, it reveals a vampire lord with a group of hungry, feral vampires who reveal they are here for “Jubilation Lee” and demand that the school hands her over. Kitty tells Junior Squad to get in formation while she sizes up the situation and the rest of the students flee the assembly hall.

Meanwhile, Shatterstar has been running behind rapidly-emptying chairs, because he knows a threat when he sees one. Without waiting for the rest of the team, he leaps into action, stabbing the vampire lord with both blades. Rictor had asked him not to bring his swords to the assembly, so we get a flashback of him sitting at the assembly while his swords poke into the person next to him, and the person behind him tries to look around their hilts in vain. Shatterstar is smug in his knowledge that he was indeed right about bringing them along.

Star sinks his swords deep into the chest of the vampire lord, but it doesn’t work--vampires can’t be hurt by normal swords. The vampire laughs at Star mockingly: “Foolish mortal, swords cannot hurt me!” Star marks the condition Insecure because he’s just been laughed at by this vampire he tried to take down, and is locked in combat as he tries to free his swords.

While Star is in the fray with the vampire, Billy sees all the students trying to flee the assembly through the single door (the vampires broke through the wall with the other ones) and decides to shield them to make sure they can get out safely. Caveat being the team won’t be able to escape easily.

Alex finally arrives late with a piece of toast in their mouth, confused at why everyone’s leaving and assuming that means Jen’s speech is over. They try to clamber up to the stage with toast in their mouth after making their way through the swarm of students, asking Jen and Kitty what’s going on. They keep nervously talking through what they should do to combat the vampires while Kitty phases through her School Principal blazer, knee-length skirt, and hose, revealing her Shadowcat uniform under this weird ice skating costume version of Business Formal. Kitty tells Alex to get in formation as they continue to talk, but while they’ve been talking, the feral vampires have crept up on Alex. Alex tries to defend Jen and Kitty, and fails, and the vampires almost let Alex’s secret slip before they use their powers to drain some energy from the surrounding vampires.

With Alex, Shatterstar, and Billy occupied, Jen takes a second to assess the situation, realizing that the best way to end this conflict quickly is to give the vampire lord what he wants, or talk to him, which is gonna be a little tricky given that Shatterstar is currently grappling/being grappled by him.

Star takes a moment to roll backwards, regretfully leaving his swords stuck through the vampire lord’s Armani blouse for the time being, and asks what he wants with Jubilation Lee, and using that as an opportunity to assess the situation. He remembers from watching Buffy that wood can kill vampires, so he takes a particularly-splintery piece of wood and tries to stab it through the vampire’s heart. The vampire reads his move, and dodges with preternatural speed in a cloud of bats, reappearing behind Shatterstar as he was about to strike. The vampire lord hoists Shatterstar up by the collar, and, testing his weight, feels how light he is. The vamp gets curious and hurls Shatterstar as far and as hard as he can, smashing Star up against the part of the wall that’s still standing.

Star lands face-first, and his white eye lands against the wall, flaring up and glowing white as Star slides down the wall like a splatted bug. His powers go haywire from the blow, tearing open the fabric of reality as he falls like a knife cutting through a screen. The edges of reality splay open, revealing that Star has inadvertently opened an extradimensional portal into Limbo, where there are demons in jerseys playing basketball, a la the Mon-stars from Space Jam. Star is dazed, laying down on the ground beneath this tableau.

Billy, seeing Star in trouble, leaves the barrier where it is and sneaks over to try to help Star up. He tells Star what happened and asks if he can help, to which Star replies, confused: “Space…. Jam?” Once he comes to a bit, he tells Billy that he’s fine, and that Billy needs to go help the others while Star recovers.

The Vampire Lord, having finished with Star, turns to Jen and Kitty, finally introduces himself as “Alexandre Francois Bourgeois, Lord of the Vampires, head of the Bourgeois Clan,” and once again demands that they give her Jubilation Lee as he advances on them with his vampire legion. Alex sees this and tries to provoke one group of the vampires into a chase using themselves as the bait of a “tasty snack,” while Billy distracts the others by levitating and rattling chairs threateningly.

Alex’s plan fails though, and the vampires follow them, but not the way they wanted. Alex nervously tries to use their “Aw, gosh” demeanor to fend the vampires off, but it’s no use. We end as the vampires advance on Alex, saying they smell more like predator than prey, and taunting their attempts to appear as a normal mortal teen. Alex nervously replies "I'm not ugly, Arnold."

Final Thoughts

We didn't get to play too much because we did a lot of world-building, but overall I'd say Marvel Masks is a rousing success and I look forward to playing it again with the crew of awesome players I was lucky enough to have!

[aion-rsa]

Designing Line of Duty: “Buckells’ Office Décor Reflects His Shallowness”

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Warning: contains spoilers for the Line of Duty series six finale

In preparation for Line of Duty series six, production designer Gillian Devenney and creator Jed Mercurio discussed the character of Detective Superintendent Ian Buckells. An over-promoted dolt around whom smarter officers run rings, how would DSU Buckells decorate his office? Golf was the answer. “The decision to feature his enthusiasm for golf arose from discussions with Jed,” Devenney tells Den of Geek.

“Buckells’ character required some evidence of his shallowness and lack of commitment to his career – hence the framed golfing pictures, trophies and the bag of clubs poised ready to head out for the next round.” 

It was the perfect choice, both for the character and for the ongoing game Line of Duty plays with its more obsessive viewers. After gangster Tommy Hunter was arrested at the golf club where he’d groomed a young Matthew Cottan into becoming corrupt police officer ‘The Caddy’, the series forever drew an association between golf, organised crime, and police corruption. Connecting Buckells to the sport via his office décor wouldn’t only reflect his laziness, it would also suggest a link to organised crime and perhaps to the mysterious corrupt officer code-named ‘H’. 

That link wasn’t lost on the show’s hard-core fans when the golf-themed office was revealed. Nice try Line of Duty, we thought, but that’s far too obvious. As if Ian Buckells is H. You won’t get us that easily. 

They got us that easily. The series six finale revealed that DSU Buckells was indeed ‘H’, a lazy, amoral officer with more devotion to his swing than the letter of the law. His office décor had been pointing the way all along. 

“We’re fortunate on Line of Duty that Jed is available to give us insight on character motivation and states of mind. That’s not always the case. I think understanding psychological and dramatic motivation and using it to guide the visual setting is one big difference between Production Design and design for its own sake. Often it can be a key steer to the creation of an environment that not only seems realistic for a particular character or scene, but can contribute to what the director is aiming for and how the audience feels about the narrative.”

Take series six’s guest lead, DCI Jo Davidson, played by Kelly Macdonald. The clues to her character aren’t to be found in her office at Hillside Lane Station (a set built inside a disused Belfast school), but in her apartment. Devenney describes Davidson’s flat as a “lonely bunker” to which Jo withdraws “to deal with the legacy of her past and the pressures it has brought.” 

It’s not a real location, but a studio-build, she explains. “I wanted it to seem a bit ‘unlived-in’ to underscore Jo’s detachment from the possible benefits of an OCG link. It’s a cold place, hence the colours, minimalist décor and cool tones. By contrast, Farida Jatri’s home [seen in episode one] suggests a much less controlled environment, very much a living space. It’s obviously a place which Jo can no longer relate to emotionally.” 

Character emotions are emphasised by their environments. The show’s prison cells, for instance, are deliberately minimal and stylised to reinforce the sense of sudden isolation. “Those scenes are invariably short, but have to accomplish a lot visually.” 

The same goes for Line of Duty’s deliberately minimal, typography-only opening credits that appear as Carly Paradis’ now-iconic theme music plays. Peter Anderson (whose studio also produced the witty and baroque opening credits for Good Omens, and the emotional, clue-filled opening sequence for crime drama Unforgotten), hand drew the typography for Line of Duty for a very deliberate effect. “It’s all a little bit broken, a little bit imperfect. You can’t put your finger on it, but it’s not quite spaced properly, there are bits broken off the edge of letters.” The aim, says Anderson, is to mirror the storytelling. “It’s telling you as a viewer that there’s something not quite right, along the same line as the series: are the police good or bad? Who is or isn’t a criminal?” 

Read more

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There’s less ambiguity in the show’s sets and dressed locations, which, as well as for realism, are designed to visually represent power struggles and conflicts between characters. “Police HQ is the heart of the establishment,” Devenney explains, “so we went to the heart of the establishment – The Ulster Reform Club. The building dates back to 1885 and is in the centre of Belfast. It’s heavy with mahogany, drapes and ornate décor. Its imposing features perfectly highlight the confrontation of values between Ted Hastings and DCC Wise. She can’t hope to personalise such a space (her attempts are a little pathetic – shrubbery and family pictures!), and Hastings is powerless within it.”

As opposed to AC-12’s slick offices, where Ted reigns. AC-12’s space is deliberately more modern than Police HQ, and less cluttered and personalised than “The Hill”, reflecting its professionalism. “It’s very ‘corporate’ with signage, computer screens, etc. It’s become such an intricate, multi-layered entity that I think it could almost step into the real world, from the most incidental piece of stationery, to vehicle livery, to the office complex itself.” 

Devenney designed the Central Police logo that features on all of the above to be credible, generic, non-region specific and apolitical. “With printed and onscreen graphics such an important ongoing narrative device, we needed a solid, believable visual anchor that fitted a massive variety of applications. It’s a brand that suggests an organisation with depth and we apply it consistently whenever we can.”

The AC-12 set is portable, and broken down for storage between series. “I think it’s always preferable to see real stuff through windows – especially in a large space like AC-12, so it’s created within an existing building here in Belfast.” Three different buildings have housed AC-12 over the years. Series two, three and four each used different locations, while series five and six used the same building as in series three but two floors higher up than before. “The city views are now a bit loftier than they used to be!”

A key part of the AC-12 set is the “glass box”, which was built with pivoting glass panels to adjust to camera and avoid reflections. “The interviews are crucial to Line of Duty and the “glass box” was a way to allow the viewer a forensic viewpoint on the process.” For series six, the interview room and meeting room home to AC-12’s evidence boards were recreated in studio to maximise Covid safety. “They had no ceilings and although it doesn’t look like it onscreen, they were relatively open at ground level.” 

Devenney’s proudest achievement in series six is episode four’s van ambush. “On Line of Duty we’re well used to dynamic action sequences, but that was challenging.” The van interior, from which DI Steve Arnott pulled off a crack shot with a handgun while flat on his back, was built on a gimbal in studio and then matched with the action filmed on location. Every department was working at the top of its game. “Edit, sound design and SFX produced a coherent, electrifying sequence.” 

Production design in a series like Line of Duty is all about supporting and not distracting from the storytelling, but Devenney’s team must work in red herrings for fans to spot, I ask. How about the magnetic letters and ‘H’ tile pattern spotted in the background of Steph Corbett’s kitchen? Devenney’s playful answer, made famous by Kelly Macdonald in her character’s mammoth series six half-hour interview scene: “No comment!” 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Line of Duty series six is available to stream on BBC iPlayer.

The post Designing Line of Duty: “Buckells’ Office Décor Reflects His Shallowness” appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[deathvalleyqueen]

Her Father’s Daughter - Chapter 4

Title: Her Father’s Daughter

Raiting: R/Mature

Chapter Word Count: 2,323

MASTER LIST

Chapter Four: Sad Goodbyes, Strange Men and Stranger Mustaches

Negan was not what most people would have called thrilled when his daughter brought home her cousin and his weight in weed but he did see a change in his daughter as the days passed and turned into weeks. The pair had always close, more like brother and sister most said than cousins. For years they even went by the same name, Joey. They offered each other a different kind of comfort than what Negan could give either of them so he stopped poking fun at Joey so much and just accepted that he was not part of his family.

While things with his family were going well, the outside world was getting more and more chaotic. Large groups of the dead were gathering together and attacking anything with a pulse that got too close. So they ramped up their scavenging and managed to salvage a decent sized camper from a gas station with only having to kill 4 infected.  That’s when the decision to leave, to try to find a larger group was made.

Even though the three of them had each other’s backs to the end, Jolene had to be the one to point out the uncomfortable truth. “If a group of them… let’s say 40 or more swarm us. No matter how hard we fight, no matter how good any of us are with our guns or knives. One of us is gonna die at least, if not all of us. We are getting too out numbered.” It wasn’t a matter of debate for her, if the two men in her life didn’t realize this she feared they were going to be doomed. There was no nice way to put it and it seemed like these days she was the only one with any perspective on the scope of the situation and Jolene was not happy about the fact she was the only one of the three thinking about tomorrow. Her pale face read like an open book. Her eyes were heavy and tired from late nights of trying to figure out the next move the need to make. She let a heavy sigh and ran her hands through her long hair that fell like a ebony wave over her the light fabric of her grey t-shirt.

Negan and Joey looked at each other uncomfortably because what Jolene said was the truth.  “So what a risk it on the open road?” Joey asked very seriously. “How is that any safer?”

“Dumbass has a point.” Negan interjected quickly.

Jolene crossed her arms in front of her chest and let out a huff. “We can’t wait for people to find us. That isn’t gonna happen. We ain’t gonna get some nice stranger in a cowboy hat coming up to us asking if we want to join their community!” She threw her hands up out of frustration at the thought.  “That shit don’t even happen in the movies.” She couldn’t hold it back any more and let out a low scream out of frustration causing Joey and her father to stare nervously up at her. “We have been all over town… in every building, house and business… everyone is either gone or dead. We are the only one’s stupid enough to still be sitting here having this fucking discussion because you two..” She said pointing a finger at each of them. “You think we have something to save here and we don’t boys… sorry to fucking disappoint! All that is left is ghosts and corpses that want to fucking eat us.”

Joey and Negan grumbled and the older man leaned forward. “So what do you think is the best plan… oh zombie apocalypse expert child of mine. What did hundreds of hours in your stupid games teach you.” Her father was being obviously condescending though he was curious to see what his daughter was going to say. He had been more than impressed with the way she had handled herself in this new world but he still worried that she was not thinking with her right mind all the time. She took risks he didn’t think were necessary, giving him his fair share of new grey hairs. Though, for the most part she had made the right call when it came to things like securing water and ammunition and only taking head shots to conserve ammo. He knew in heart of hearts though his daughter was struggling with all the death that had suddenly filled her life.

Jolene started to pace as she spoke. “We need to find some place with defenses, sustainability, fresh water, if we had a power source like solar panels basic things like lights and fridges could be run.” She mused as she paced but then she stopped and turned towards the men. “These places aren’t going to just not be settled. We are what 5 weeks, 6 since all this started . Any place that was suitable already is already taken and that presents a whole new set of issues.” Jolene pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She should have seen that they needed to leave sooner but part of her wanted to stay in the only place she had ever felt safe, but the world was changing at an alarming rate and sitting ideally by was going to serve none of them in the long run. She took a deep breath remember her father’s words that first day they were reunited, she needed be strong for her mother. She could her Lucille’s voice echo through her mind ‘You can do this, you can beat this world my brave girl..’

Negan turned to Joey. “What the hell does she mean?” He asked somewhat clueless of what it was his daughter was referring to. He watched his daughter pace and knew that no matter what was best for them he had to get her away from this house if he had any hope of keeping his daughter sane. ‘Negan… you know she shouldn’t just have you and Joseph for company… she needs people darling.’ His wife’s voice echoed in his mind as Joey began to speak.

“Society is gone Coach… No Law… No Order… No Law and Order either..” He said with an uncomfortable laugh, his joke had fallen on deaf ears at that point. “I thought that was funny… but people are going to go back to a tribal society. It happens in every post apocalyptic movies and video game.”

Negan brought his hand to his face and shook his head unable to believe that his daughter and her cousin were probably right using their video game logic. “Fucking go on…” Negan said with a heavy sigh.

“Well when you revert to a tribal mentality you really aren’t trying to look at the greater good of society like most people did up till 6 weeks ago.” Jolene nodded as her cousin spoke. “So everything becomes and us versus them mentality.”

“We can hope that if we leave soon, come across a community within a few weeks that looks viable that they may be willing to accept new people but it’s going to be tougher as time goes on. Once the resources start getting limited…” Jolene started to shake her head and looked over at Joey who was doing the same thing. “It’s going to come down to whoever has the most… controls the most.”

Negan gave a slow nod and leaned back on his couch. “Well… I guess we better pack up the cars and trailers with everything we can and hit the road kids.” Negan stood up and the Joeys looked at each other for a moment as Negan stared at the two young adults. “Are you fucking deaf, dumb and stupid…fucking hustle.” Negan was in coach mode now, barking orders as Joey and Jolene started to gather supplies and load it into the three vehicles they had and two trailers.

Loading everything up took most of the day and some of the night but by the next morning they were ready to leave, weather they were really ready or not. Leaving the house was far more emotional than either Negan or Jolene had expected. Jolene had barely slept the night before. Trying to memorize every detail of her bedroom that she had since she was 5 years old, from the cracked window casing from when she broken in after she snuck out one night and her father locked her out trying to catch her. To the poems that she written in sharpie on the wall under the window next to her bed where she would sit and daydream on bright summer afternoons, writing them down on scrap pieces of papers and tucking them in her bag so she would remember them when the memories of this place started to fade.

  Negan too couldn’t sleep the previous night, he found himself wondering around his home getting fixated on little details like the notches in the pantry door where Lucille had measured Jolene every year on her birthday. The precise color of blue that the kitchen was painted after a three day argument as newlyweds, so many memories filled every corner of that house because it was more that just a building, it was one of the last few physical embodiments of Lucille’s dedication to their family.

As dawn broke and they placed the last few items in the vehicles Negan and Jolene stood at the end of the drive way just staring at the house. Jolene remembered when they moved in, it was her first real vivid memory. Her father and Lucille had just gotten married, she was almost 5 and getting ready to start kindergarten.  How the house looked like something from a story book. A little brick house, with white shutters and red door.

Closing her eyes for a moment she could still feel the joy she had as she ran into the empty house laughing and screaming how she finally had her own room. Jolene was shaken from her thoughts when her father placed his hand on her shoulder and kissed the side of her head. “It’s time princess…” Jolene turned into her father and started to sob softly into his chest.

Negan wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her tightly as his daughter sobbed against his chest. Out of the corner of his eye Negan saw Joey move towards him. “Not now..” He snapped before he kissed the top of Jolene’s head. “There is nothing but death and sadness left in that house, you said that remember… it stopped being a home when your mama stopped breathing. Now we gotta move on… be strong…” Jolene gripped  the back of her father’s black t-shirt as she continued to cry hard. “We had a beautiful life here… but it was all your mama. This place won’t ever feel the same. We would have moved probably any way.” He said smoothing her hair, rocking with her slightly as he stood gazing up the house. He kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “Come on Jo, time to go conquer the world.” He smiled down at Jolene who looked up at him through tears.  

“For mama..” Jolene said softly as she gained her some of her composure back and wiped the stray tears from her cheeks.

Negan shook his head. “No, for you…” He leaned his forehead against her’s for a moment, “Now get your ass to that station wagon… your burning daylight.” He said with his usual jovial manner and it made his daughter chuckle as she started walking towards her car turning back to give her father a little mock salute. “Yeah that’s right, remember who is the one in charge here you two. So no fucking funny business and I am looking at you Joseph!” Negan called at the two teens met up and gave each other a much needed hug before the three all finally got in their respective vehicles and leaving their homes for what would be the last time.

They were in no race because they didn’t know where they were going. They would drive for a few hours, stopping at any place that looked like it had anything useful left. It went on like that for days. Uneventful, downright boring even. It wasn’t until the fifth day did they finally run across a group of three rough looking men and fuel truck at a gas station.

They pulled their cars over and Negan instructed Jolene and Joey to stay in their cars. Negan walked with his hands up towards the men who had pistols drawn on him. “Hey… my kids and I ain’t looking for trouble guys.” Negan started as he gestured towards the cars.

The men still had guns drawn as a lanky, thin man with a thick mustache took a few steps forward and lowered his gun. “So what is it are you looking for buddy?”

Negan chuckled, “Well some place safe for those kids for one…” The men started to eye the cars making Negan look back somewhat nervous to see Jolene watching the exchange wide eyed.

The man with the mustache turned to his group who lowered the weapons. “You seem to have quite a bit of supplies…”

Negan chuckled. “You don’t know the half of what we have…” Negan looked back again at the cars and then back at the group of men.

“If you want to share your supplies… we have a place that has fences to keep the dead out. You and your kids can come with us.” The man with the mustache motioned for the other men to leave and Negan gave him a thankful nod. “You got a name there buddy?”

“Negan..”

“I’m Simon, pleasure to meet ya.”  The man said with a slightly unsettling smile before turning and walking back towards his truck and the fuel tanker.