#where i live it's still hitting 90° in the afternoon so my room can make a very happy Starter

[tuba-david]

(shouting into the void) DOES ANYONE HAVE A GOOD SOURDOUGH RYE BREAD RECIPE? MY MOM IS WATCHING HER GLYCEMIC INDEX

[spencerreidsconverse]

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”.  You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

[reidgraygubler]

out of the ordinary (chip taylor/reader)

Title: Out Of The Ordinary

Request: no

Couple: Chip Taylor/Fem!Reader

Category: smut/angst

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrative sex, fingering, oral (fem), sex while someone is injured, breeding kink, groping, praise kink, multiple orgasms, hair pulling), swearing, blood and other bodily fluids, graphic descriptions of violence(!!!!), mentions of sexual acts, 68 Kill Spoilers, mentions of a dead partner, mentions of drugs (unknown), guns and gun violence, talks about kids (in the very far future),

Word Count: 9,562

Summary: Reader works at a hotel where she sees a lot of things out of the ordinary… Including a man running across the parking lot wearing nothing but a small towel around his waist. If only she knew her day was about to get weirder

A/N: day three of what might have been the biggest mistake of my life. But i had fun! Idk how april does it bc i was struggling. Anyways, here is some chip smut. I didn’t edit this too super well, so please pardon any of the editing errors/grammatical issues. The next ones will/are beta’d and edited… thank you so much for sticking with me on this! Tomorrow is something i had a lot of fun writing!  Here is the masterlist for 7days 7fics! And here’s my main masterlist! Thank you all for the love and support! 

{***}{***}{***}

I wish that even though I lived in a small town, in the middle of butt-fucking nowhere, I would see normal things. You know? Things that happen in small towns in the middle fucking nowhere. But, because it’s in the middle of nowhere, and the highway goes right through the middle of our town, we get a lot of… interesting guests. Which makes my job a little entertaining, sometimes. 

Sitting behind a window at a tiny, run-down hotel early morning to mid-afternoon was what I did for a living. 90% of the time I spent my time just sitting there, reading a book/magazine, messing around on my phone, or working on an assignment for my class. That other 10% is checking people in or out of their rooms. 

My day was so close to coming to an end. 11:30… I just needed to be here for one more hour, and then I can go home and go to bed. And, surprisingly, nothing weird had happened. It was a successful day, praise the fucking Lord or whoever is watching down. 

Until, I jinxed myself…I thought I had hit the one allotted out of the ordinary thing for the day. That was until, as I was finishing up this essay, and I heard something from out in the parking lot. When I looked away from my laptop to investigate. And what I saw was not what I was expecting, at all.

A tall man was running across the parking lot, coming right towards the check-in/out window. Now, you might be wondering why this was out of the ordinary. Well, you see, he was running across the parking lot wearing nothing but a face washcloth around his waist. Let’s just say it left little to nothing to the imagination. 

“H-hey! Hi,” he spoke, coming right up to the counter. I was more than happy that there was a counter and window between the two of us. I’m happy he was attractive, in all sense of the words. He was very attractive.  “Do… Do you have a phone… That I could borrow?” he asked, looking at me with actual worry and terror in his eyes and face. I stared at him with a raised brow.

“What happened to the one in your room?” I moved away from my laptop and leaned on the counter beside it. He looked over his shoulder at the room he stayed in. I cocked my head to my shoulder and stared at him. “What room number are you?”

“Uh, that… That doesn’t really matter? Um, I’m running late,” he cringed as he looked back at me. I blinked slowly before looking down at the clipboard with the most recent check-ins. 

��Sure,” I looked right at the last name and noted the time he checked in, “Mister Delacroix?” I slowly looked back at him.

“Chip,”

“Well, listen, Chop,” I paused my words as I walked over to the door to let him in. I was just happy he didn’t correct me when I called him the wrong name. I could have corrected myself, but I was just annoyed that I’d probably have to take care of the mess in his room.

“The owner’s son texted me, telling me that the people in your room had a rager last night… So, if I have to go clean that room and see cum and piss all over the room, and a coke tray on the counters, I’m charging you double,” I looked up at him as he entered the office. He was a lot taller standing in front of me. I don’t know why I thought he was shorter. Maybe its because he was standing on lower ground and I was inside.

  “I… Rager?” He stared at me with a confused crease in his brow. I stared at him before slowly nodding. “Do… Do you know who came over? Do you know who it was?”

“I… Uh, I’ll have to ask the owner’s son. But, by the sounds of it, it was a little rough. I’m surprised you’re still up and walking without a limp,” I chuckled. I slowly looked up and down his body, taking in how he looked. He was slightly muscular, and though he had abs, his tummy was slightly pudgy. Which I could get with. I could appreciate a bit of a tummy on a guy like him. 

“Listen,” he started, his words showing more urgency than before. I looked up, away from his body and at his face. It was probably his urgency that got my attention because I definitely almost went a little lower than the towel. “I need to know-Do you have any clothes? This is slightly distracting,” he looked at me. I wasn’t too sure if he was talking distracting for me, or for him. But I do agree, it was very distracting.

“Uhm,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I pulled my stare off him and went to look for the lost and found box, “There’s not much in here, but I’m sure there’s something,” I glanced at him as I placed the box on the counter. 

“Right, thanks,” Chip looked at me before going to dig around in the box, “Do you know who came to my room last night?” 

“I think… Hold on,” I muttered before rushing to the counter, shuffling some papers to find a random sticky note with some sloppy hand writing, “Christ, I forget he doesn’t speak english,” I shook my head as I stared at the writing. “Some goth chick and her boyfriend, or whatever. Uh, yeah, he told me about it this morning before he left. Like, 6 other people I think,” I swallowed roughly and shook my head, “It sounds like they roughed the place up?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” he looked away from the box for a brief moment. I watched as he pulled out a white and red t-shirt (that was left behind by a group of younger women) and a pair of sweat-shorts. “Great, now I gotta go back to that fucking gas station. Fucking fuck,” he muttered to himself as he dropped the towel to the ground. I widened my eyes and couldn’t help but stare at his ass.

“Gas station?” I asked, keeping my eyes on his body as he turned to face me. That was when I got a view of the full frontal package. I swallowed roughly.

“Are… Are you going to turn around?” he looked at me with nervousness in his eyes as he held the pants and shirt close to his body, lower towards his crotchal region. I smirked, raising an eyebrow and cocking my head to the side.

“Nope,” I looked up at him with a smile. When I noticed that he wasn’t going to move to get dressed, I dropped my shoulders before turning around.

“Which gas station are you talking about?” I asked, looking at the ground. I wasn’t entirely sure why I asked which gas station it was he was talking about. There was just one gas station in the whole town, and I knew he was in a bit of trouble.

  From behind me, I could hear Chip muttering strings of profanities to himself. Part of me wondered if he needed help with anything, or if I was just a disposable person in his day. Probably the latter. 

“The one down the street,” his voice was low. I wondered what he was thinking about and what his urgency was all about. “You can turn around. Can I use the phone,” he asked as I turned to face him. I looked at him and held back a laugh. Which, in turn, earned a glare from him. 

“Yeah, yeah, you have to dial 1 before the number you’re calling,” I went to move the phone closer to him, nearly pushing/pulling everything off the counter. 

“Thanks,” he looked over at me before picking up the phone and dialing his number. I watched as he turned away from me. He wasn’t on the phone for very long, and it didn’t sound like it was a good call. 

“I… I gotta go. Can I use your car?” Chip asked as he looked out at the only car in the lot. I followed his gaze at my shitty 2001 Saturn. I furrowed my eyebrows before looking back at him.  

“I can just give you a ride, you know… And, it’d probably be better if you had a partner with you. That phone call didn’t sound good… At all. And, no one will take you seriously dressed like that,” I nodded at his attire. He looked down at what he was wearing before looking back at me. “Back up just in case? No one will notice I’m gone,” I let out a dry laugh. 

“It’ll be dangerous,” he looked at me with worry in his eyes. I shrugged before looking at the ground.

“I could use a little danger in my life,” I laughed before looking back at him, “I’ve been sitting in this stupid office, doing this stupid job since I was 16. The hundreds of people I’ve seen is crazy. This job is boring, I need something risky.” I explained when I noticed he needed more information.

“You could die,” he pointed out. I shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I could die just sitting here. Let me help you,” I stare at him with wide eyes. He looked at the ground and sighed. I could tell he wanted to fight with me, to get me to stay. But I could also tell he really needed help, and really needed to get out of this stupid town and state. 

“Fine, you can come. But, you can’t ask any questions,” he pointed at me. I smiled before closing my laptop and grabbing for my car keys.

“Fine, let’s go,” I looked at him before pushing past him and leaving the office.  

Chip was close behind me, still muttering to himself. From what I did hear, I heard the number 68,000 and then the word dollars. 68,000 dollars??? And he’s in a shit town like this?! What the fuck? What the fuck am I getting myself into? Fuck, this is a mistake… Fuck. 

The ride to the gas station was quiet. Chip must have been thinking of what he was going to say or do when he got there. Let’s just hope it wasn’t Monica there. Bitch is crazy.

“Stay here, I have a feeling what I need isn’t here,” he muttered as he got out of the car. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“W-w-wait, you don’t want me to go with?” I asked as I slipped out of the car too, “Listen, I know the family that owns this gas station. They’re crazy. They’re nuts.”

“I got it. Just… just wait here,” he looked over at me one last time before going in. I stared at the door that he disappeared into before slamming the door shut. I leaned against the side of my car, patiently waiting for Chip to come back out. 

I don’t even know how long he was in there for. But, it was a very long time. Worry took over as I began to overthink things. That dumb bitch probably killed him. 

My worry melted away once he stepped outside with nothing but shame on his face. I raised an eyebrow, watching as he walked closer to me and my car. 

“You look like you saw a ghost or something,” I chuckled as I pushed myself off my car and back around to the drivers’ side of the car.

“No, no it was much worse than a ghost,” he muttered before getting in the car himself. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked towards the doors of the gas station. 

“Whatever,” I shook my head before slipping into the car, “Where to now? Monica’s trailer?” I raised an eyebrow as I glanced over at Chip. I watched as he pulled something out of his mouth and wrinkled his nose. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he looked over at me before looking around my car. 

“Do you have a plan? Or… Or a gun?” I asked as we got closer to the trailer park. He looked at me with a little terror in his eye. No plan or gun? Seriously? Good thing there’s a gun in my glove box. “You can’t go to these guys with just luck, Chip. That’ll get you killed,” I glanced at him as I reached over for the glove box, pulling it open and pulling out the gun.

“What the fuck! Where did that come from?” he asked, watching as I placed the gun on my lap. I glanced at him as I pressed down on the gas, speeding down the highway. “Jesus! Slow down,”

“You’re the one who fucking lost $68,000 to fucking Monica! You go in and get her money-”

“It’s not her-”

“It’s her money now, Chip. Jesus, she stole 3 of my bikes when we were little,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Chip looked at me again and nodded. “You’re lucky you have help,” I muttered as I kept my eyes on the road. 

“You know this bitch?” Chip stared at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“She’s my, like, second cousin. My Dad’s niece’s kid,” I shrugged before shaking my head, “She’s a cunt. A fucking cunt,” I scoffed as I remembered my childhood with her. Chip was silent as I pulled into a driveway and parked the car. 

“Oh good, looks like there’s a metal baseball bat in the yard,” I smiled at him. Chip looked at me with wide eyes, actual terror sitting in his eyes. I watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt and rested his hand on the latch to my car. He stayed still for a moment before turning to face me. I could tell that there was a moment of hesitation. I don’t blame him, do be honest. I hesitated to bring him here. Taking him here is basically signing his death warrant.

“Stay… Stay here… If I’m not out in an hour… Call the cops,” he looked at me before slipping out of the car. I watched as he walked up the driveway, picking up the metal bat, and walked towards the door. I almost got out of the car and went after him, but I didn’t. I’ll listen to him. He must have a plan worked out if he didn’t need my help yet.

I swallowed roughly, watching him knock on the door and wait for it to swing open. And when it did, a familiar looking guy stepped out of the trailer. It was obvious he was sizing Chip up, mocking him as he spoke. Chip looked over his shoulder at me, silently pleading for help of some sort. I shrugged, pretending like I didn’t understand what he was asking for. 

A bell ringing came up the driveway and passed me. A familiar blonde riding a bike rode up the driveway. 

“Oh, you again,” Chip spoke out loud at the blonde woman. Amy… Of course. Of course she shows up. She’s probably the one who told him where that bitch, Monica, even lived. I was just happy she didn’t even see me when she rode past me. I didn’t want to be a part of any of that bullshit.

Then he was pulled into the trailer. 

“Fuck, this… This isn’t going to be good,” I muttered as I slouched down into my seat in the safety of my car. I wished there was something more that I could do to help him. Because just sitting here for an hour and waiting to call the cops won’t help me or him, specifically Chip. Fucking around with Monica and her… I don’t even know what to call the people she hands out with. 

I grabbed for my gun again, pulling out the magazine and looking at how much ammo I had. Just as I put my hand on the handle to get out, a loud bang came from near the trailer, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat. I sat, frozen, paralyzed in my spot, staring at the trailer. They’ve just killed Chip. Or, Chip just killed them 

“I don’t know what… What do I do…” I whispered to myself as I stared at the door from the safety of my car. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. What I should have done was follow my own advice to Chip and come up with a secondary plan… I can’t exactly go in there guns blazing… Unless, that’s exactly what I do. They won’t expect Chip to have a partner with him. 

Okay, that’s it… That’s my plan… Bust into the trailer, and just go for it… But, I think… Should I wait the hour Chip told me to wait? What if he’s in trouble? Who am I kidding, he’s totally in trouble. 

{***}{***}{***}

I just wish I hadn’t fallen asleep. Because, the next thing I knew it  was morning and Chip was still in Monica’s trailer. Chip was still in danger.  

I quickly fumbled my way out of the back seat and into the front. It was even worse as I rushed to get out of the car, my body nearly falling to the ground. When I was finally out of the car, I recollected myself, hyping myself up as I walked towards the trailer. 

 I had my gun tucked into the back of my pants as I walked. I didn’t want to be quick, but I also didn’t want to be slow. Chip could be in danger, and it was a little bit my fault. He’d be out of that situation if I hadn’t fallen asleep.

My fist carefully knocked on the door, hoping someone would answer sooner rather than later. When the door flew open, Monica was standing in the door frame, looking down at me with slight disgust.

“We don’t want girl scout cookies,” she looked down at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Good thing I’m not a girl scout, Monica,” I took a deep breath before pulling the gun out from my pants. I lifted it up and pointed it right at her chest. “Where’s Chip,” 

“You want him?” Monica asked, cocking a hip as she leaned against the door frame. She wasn’t even bothered by my weapon being pointed at her chest. It was like she was used to it. “He brought you as back up? Oh that poor boy?” she looked down at the gun. I took a deep breath as I stared at her.  

She knew I wasn’t going to use it. She knew me well enough to know that I just had this stupid gun for looks, and that I wasn’t going to shoot anyone. But, what she doesn’t know is that I’m not afraid of her anymore. She may have tormented me when we were kids. But I’m taking it all back now. 

“Where’s Chip and the money, Monica,” I spoke, my voice low as I spoke. I slowly cocked my gun as I stared at her. 

“Oh, you know about the money too?” she asked before looking into the trailer at her friends and, I’d assume, Chip. “Did you hear that? This slut knows about the money,” she spoke, looking at everyone. I swallowed roughly as she looked back at me, “Is she replacing that other slut we killed last night?” 

“Just go! Get out of here!” I could hear Chip yell from somewhere in the trailer. Monica stared down at me, watching me as my hands shook with the weapon in hand. 

“Too afraid to use that gun?” she mocked in a whiny tone. I blinked slowly as I moved my finger to the trigger. Everything happened so fast, when I opened my eyes, Monica was stumbling back, her hand over stomach where blood was spilling out. Blood was being coughed up as she fell against the couch, looking up at me with wide eyes. “You actually did it,” she coughed, staring at me terror in her eyes. 

“I’m not scared of you anymore, Monica,” I spoke as I stepped into the trailer. I smiled as I looked down at her, cocking my gun and pointing it down at her again, “You terrorized me when we were kids… But not anymore… No,” I took a deep breath before as we made eye contact.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whimpered, looking at me, struggling to move as I got closer to her, “Listen, you can take Chip, and… and the money and go… I’ll leave you alone now…” 

“Sorry just isn’t going to do it, Monica, not this time… Not ever,” I shook my head, “You can burn in hell for all I care,” I scoffed as I stared at her. Blood was dripping down the sides of her lips as she pleaded with me, but at this point I didn’t care about anything she was saying. 

Chip called my name, causing me to look over at him. They really did a number on him. I wonder if they would have gotten this bad had I actually called the cops and did something last night. 

My hands and shoulders dropped as I looked at him. I didn’t even bother with the others around me, I’d take care of them after. 

Or, so I thought… One of Monica’s friends stood up and charged after me. I stumbled back, fumbling to cock the gun before pulling the trigger at him, getting him right in the head. He fell to the ground with a thud, a slab of meat just on the floor. 

“Anyone else?” I looked at the others around me, really feeling my sudden anger and annoyance come through for everyone. The people around me backed away from me. I looked back at Chip, appreciating the way he was looking up at me. Just as I went to my knees to help him, the sound of a shotgun being cocked came from behind me. I froze as the barrel of a gun was pressed right to my head.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sweet Heart?” a woman’s voice asked from behind me. I took a deep breath as I dropped my gun to the ground. I looked back at Chip and noted how the adoration he had in his eyes slowly turned into terror and fear. “Where’s my money, Chip?” the woman asked. There was a certain fakeness in her words that scared me a bit. 

“I… I don’t have it!” Chip shouted as he struggled to stand up. I cringed as Liza pushed the barrel into my head a bit more. I swallowed roughly as I looked at Chip. 

“L-liza? H-h-how did you… How did you find me?” Chip exclaimed as he looked past me and at the woman.

“I told you, Chip, I always know where you are,” her fake sweetness really struck a chord in me, pissing me off more than I was before. “Now… Where’s my money?”

Someone from the sidelines jumped to their feet and instantly charged at Liza. It was terrifying how quick Liza was to turn and shoot the gun at the man. I quickly moved away and grabbed my gun from the ground. I felt a little bad for moving behind Chip, using him as a shield from this new woman.

“You’re so quick to move on, Chippy,” Liza spoke as she looked back at me. I appreciated that Chip actually covered me instead of cowering away like I half expected him to. “First the whore from last night and now her?” 

“I’m not a slut or a whore,” I stared at her. She cocked her head as she looked over at me. Yet, again another one of Monica’s people came after us, only to be stopped by a different person, their arm being sliced off in one swift motion. If you blinked you would have missed it. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” one of the three girls shouted front he couch. Liza turned to face the person behind her before saying something else. 

“What… What do we do, Chip,” I whispered as I tugged gently on his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at me before lifting his finger to his lips. I stared at him for a moment, watching as he thought of a plan. The level of chaos in the building was starting to stress me out. I wasn’t expecting two terrifying people to show up at an already terrifying place. 

“Go have fun with that one, Dwayne-y,” Liza pointed towards one of the girls on the couch. The guy looked over at the girl before grabbing her and pushing past Chip and I. I fell against the wall and blacked out for a moment. 

When I came too, Liza was standing in front of Chip, talking to him about something. It was eerily quiet in the trailer now, other than Liza and Chip’s voice. My guess was Liza took everyone out. But, why’d she keep me alive? Chip probably bargained for my life. I’m honestly just a bystander in this whole thing, wasn’t I? 

“You can let him run away… you can hunt him down, and kill him… Or… Or you can discipline him.. Teach him to heel or whatever he’s supposed to do,” Liza cocked her head as she looked at Chip. I took a deep breath, looking at the ground and noticed the gun on the ground right behind Chip. “So, Chip, what option do you want?” her tone was filled with that sickening sweetness, and it made me want to beat the shit out of her. 

“Violet said there’s always another option,” Chip spoke softly as he looked at Liza. I carefully moved and grabbed the gun. 

“Oh, she… She did? Well, I don’t see her here… Because she’s dead, Chip,” Liza scoffed. I took a deep and shaky breath before moving around the chair and aiming the gun right at Liza. “Oh, look who’s got the balls now,” Liza looked past Chip and at me. I stared down at her, feeling nervousness in the form of bile rise up my throat. “Are you gonna shoot me? Baby’s gonna sho-” her statement was finished short by a bullet to her head. I closed my eyes and looked down at the ground. 

“Jesus Christ!” Chip shouted as Liza’s body fell to the ground. I took a deep breath before looking down at him. “She’s dead!” 

“She was going to fucking kill both of us, Chip!” I shouted back, looking at him with wide eyes. Chip looked up at me as he stumbled to his feet. 

“Okay, okay,” Chip looked down at me, placing his hand on my shoulder to steady himself. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “$68,000… My clothes, and then we fucking ditch this fucking place,” he pointed towards the door where the creepy man from before dragged a girl. I swallowed roughly as I looked towards the door.

“Here,” I handed him my gun before nodding towards the door. Chip looked down at me, a slight glare in his eyes before he took a step forward. I followed behind him, staying close to his body. He pushed the door open and immediately fired the gun, killing the guy instantly. 

“I’m never going to sleep again, holy fucking shit,” I muttered as I looked at the horrors in front of me. He fucking ripped the girl a part. 

“Stay here for a minute,” Chip muttered before stepping away from me. He didn’t seem bothered by everything. I was impressed that he was able to step into the room more and move stuff around. One he found what he was looking for he came back beside me.

“Let’s fucking go,” he muttered, holding a shoe box under his arm. I looked at the box as I followed behind him. I could kill him right now, and take that 68grand. I could start a new life on my own… 

“Yeah, let’s go,” I looked down at the ground, “Shouldn’t we clean up the place first? Our fingerprints and DNA is all over the place,” I looked around the trailer and at all the dead bodies. Is it bad this didn’t phase me at all? 

“You’re right. Hold this,” he muttered as he shoved the box into my hands. I looked down at it with wide eyes before looking back at Chip. He had a bottle of straight whiskey in his hand and was splashing it around the room, going into the other rooms before coming back. “You think this will be enough?” he asked, looking down at me with a certain exhaustion in his eyes. I tried to look past all the injuries he had earned, but it was hard when they covered his whole face. 

“Hopefully,” I shoved the box back into his arm before leaving the building. I waited just outside as he lit a lighter and tossed it to the floor, causing the whole building to be engulfed in flames. 

“Where to?” Chip asked as we walked back to my car. I looked over my shoulder at the blazing trailer and shrugged.

“Somewhere away from here. But first, we should get you a first aid kit,” 

{***}{***}{***}

We drove for a long time. A very long time. I think we both wanted to make sure we were away from Monica’s trailer before we rested for the night. Which also meant we had to wait a long time before Chip could get the proper care he needed. It wasn’t fair to either of us that this was the case at the moment. I wasn’t ever expecting this to be what happened to me the other day when I woke up. I was just happy that after the second day of driving, he was actually okay.

“I’ll go get a room, you stay here,” I looked over at Chip. It looked like he was asleep, which I was expecting, so when he lifted his head and looked over at me I was a little confused. 

“No, no let me,” he mumbled as he fought to get his seatbelt undone.

“Chip, you look like you just got out of Fight Club… Let me go get the room,” I placed a hand on his to stop him from moving anymore. He looked up at me with a little bit of terror in his eyes, “I’ll be right back, I promise,” I kept my voice low as I spoke to him. 

“Okay, you’re right,” he mumbled before moving his hand away from the buckle. Chip rested his head against the head rest before closing his eyes lightly. I sighed deeply before sliding out of the car and towards the entrance of the hotel lobby. 

I kept my voice low the entire time as I spoke to the front desk manager. It was hard when I also looked like I just got out of a war and the manager kept looking at me like that was the case. When they finally handed me the room key, I let out the deepest sigh of relief and returned out to the car. 

“We have a room… Two days…” I looked over at Chip as I drove to a parking spot near our room. 

“Two days… Nice, nice,” he murmured and nodded. I looked over at him and watched as he slowly unbuckled. 

“You go into the room, I’ll grab the food and first aid kit,” I handed him the key before we both got out. Chip nodded before leaving and going towards the room. I made sure to be quick as I grabbed the stuff from the back.

“Should I shower?” 

“No, no, let me clean your wounds up first,” I nodded towards the bed. Chip looked over at the bed before going to sit on it. I was relieved when he laid back on the bed like nothing mattered in the world. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

 “Are you going to play nurse with me?” he asked, looking at me with a playful smirk on his lips. I laughed and nodded as I approached the bed. 

“Unfortunately, I think I’m all you got,” I laughed as I sat on the bed beside him. He sat up and moved closer to him. We were both quiet as I pulled out alcohol wipes and gauze. I looked at his face, trying to figure out where to start. Thankfully the swelling in his eyes went down, but I cracked an ice pack to help. 

“This is gonna sting,” I looked at his face as I lifted the wipe to his face. He winced as I began wiping the wounds on his face.

“Are you okay?” I looked up at him as I carefully placed butterfly band-aids and regular band-aids over the wounds. He looked back at me, a certain softness in his eyes. I was happy that he’d probably just need a few band-aids on his face instead of gauze and stitches like I’d thought. We both didn’t want to go to the hospital… 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he whispered as he tried to not move away from my touch. I frowned looking at his face. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he added. I looked down at his hands and nodded. 

“Did you want to go to the hospital and tell them the truth?” I raised an eyebrow as I shifted closer to him with an alcohol pad. He cringed as I pressed it to the open wound on his hand. “Sorry,” I cringed as he flinched.

“You’re right, though… I don't think I could make up a believable lie in the hospital,” he looked at me, watching me clean the injuries.. 

“Was it worth it?” I asked, feeling a small smile grow on my lips. Chip shrugged a bit like he wasn’t too sure what I was talking about.

“Was… Was what worth it?” he asked, trying not to furrow his eyebrows. I laughed lightly and shrugged.

“The 68 grand that you risked your life for, Chip,” I laughed as I grabbed a bandage and picked it open, “Is it okay if the band-aid is pink with butterflies?” I held it up to show him the design. He swallowed roughly before nodding.

“Yeah, it was worth it,” he whispered, causing me to look back at his face. I furrowed my eyebrows when it became my turn to stare at him. “Because if I didn’t lose the $68 thousand... I probably wouldn’t have met you… And you saved my life,” 

“Oh please, don’t compare me to Violet,” I laughed and shook my head. I felt a little bad for bringing up his dead friend, but I personally felt like he was comparing me to her. Just a little bit. 

“I’m not,” he looked taken aback by my sudden statement. I shrugged, not entirely believing him. He knew that too. I looked at him, noting the cut and bruise across his nose. Who knows how long that was going to take to heal, but I hope it didn’t hurt him too much. “I’m being serious,”

“That makes me feel better,” I smiled as I began cleaning up the first aid kit we had bought when we pulled into a new town, “I should probably let you go your own way, come morning. I don’t want to get in the way of you while you’re trying to flee everything” I laughed as I clicked the first aid kit shut, “I’ll let you have my car,” 

“Please stay,” he whispered, watching as I stood and walked across the room. I almost didn’t hear him. But I was preoccupied with my thoughts, trying to figure out how I’d get home if I had given him my car to leave. I was 2 days away from home… That’d be a long way back. “I probably would die if you didn’t come with me,” he added as I turned to face him.

“I’d be pretty useless if I came with. Is your life always like that, Chip?” I asked, placing my fists on my hips. He stayed quiet. “Because if it’s always like that, running from danger and shooting guns…”

“You’ll go back home, I get it. What happened the other day was-”

“I never said that,” I cut him off, “Yeah, what happened the other day was terrifying, Chip. But, I don’t think I’ve ever had such an eventful day in my entire life. I just don’t think I would be able to do that again. That parts gotta go,”

“Consider it gone,” Chip shook his head, watching as I slowly walked back over towards him. I looked down at him, appreciating the way he looked back up at me. “Forgotten. We can… We can buy a house in… In Iowa. Have kids, have a family. Get as far as we can from that place,” he moved his legs and allowed me to stand between them. 

“Iowa?” I scoffed, wrinkling my nose at the thought of moving to Iowa. “And… You want to have kids? After everything that happened? You want to bring kids into this world?” I sighed deeply as I looked down at him. I left out the part of how we just met 4 days ago. He doesn’t even know me. 

“Yeah, but if you were their mother, I think they’d be pretty safe,” Chip laughed as he reached up to grab my hand. I stared at him, feeling my heart swell in my chest. 

“You don’t even know me, Chip,” I laughed lightly. He furrowed his eyebrows before shrugging. “And you already want to have kids with me?”

“I don’t think… I don’t think it matters. You saved my life,” he pointed out. I bit my lower lip as he brushed his thumb across the back of my hand. 

“Yeah,” I paused, taking a deep breath as I stared at him, “You saved mine too, Chip,” I smiled at him, “I think Liza might have killed me if it wasn’t for you,” I laughed lightly out my nose. And, it was true. She probably would have killed me after she knocked me out...

“Well, good thing Dwayne was easy enough to take care of,” he returned the laughter, “Can’t believe I dated that bitch,” he sighed as he looked up at me. 

“Yeah, I was about to say…” I smiled softly. Chip smiled as he carefully tugged my hand so I would fall forward slightly. 

“Kiss me,” he whispered as I braced myself on his shoulder with one hand. I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down at his lips. The cut on his upper lip had thankfully stopped bleeding. 

“Is that a good idea,” I pulled my hand off his shoulder and gently held his face. He wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes. “Chip, I’m serious,” 

“I am too,” he begged as he looked at me, “I could di-”

“You won’t die tomorrow. You’re safe now,” I smiled softly as I looked at him.

“So, what’s stopping you from kissing me,” he asked, pointing out the fact that there was indeed nothing stopping me from kissing him. 

“Why you gotta be like that?” I asked, moving my hand up his face. I carefully brushed the wound on his temple before carding my fingers through his hair. 

“Be like what?” Chip asked as I pushed my hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his head. 

“You’re so… nice. You’re not like other men, the ones who look at women like objects,” I laughed and shook my head, “You wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” 

“You do know I killed, like, bunch of people yesterday,” he asked. I smiled and nodded. He pulled his hand from mine and rested both his hands on my hips. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at him.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair…” I sighed deeply and cocked my head, “You won’t regret it, will you?” I asked, my voice hardly a whisper.

“Regret what? Kissing you?” He asked, his thumbs playing with the hem of my shirt, just barely touching the skin of my hip. I nodded lightly. “Why would I regret kissing you?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy regret kissing me,” I whispered as I looked away from him, “The last guy I dated… He dated me as a joke… It wasn’t till after we… Well, we did a little bit more than kissing, did he tell me that it was all a joke,” I whispered before looking down at the ground.  

“Nothing about me asking for a kiss is a joke, I promise,” Chip replied, his voice causing me to look back at him. He lifted a hand and rested it on my shoulder. “We don’t even have to do anything… You don’t have to ki-”

“I do… I do want to kiss you, Chip,” I whispered softly, “I’m just scared, that’s all,” I stared down at him.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he smiled softly, running his hand down my arm before grasping my hand. I swallowed roughly before moving to straddle his legs. He took a sharp breath as I adjusted myself on his legs.

“Sorry,” I cringed as I tried to get off his legs. Chip looked at me before resting his hands on my hips, keeping me in place on his lap. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, bringing a hand back to my face. I stared at him, feeling a small smile grow on my lips.  

After a moment of just staring at each other, I moved forward, closing the space between. Our lips connected, and it was the softest, gentlest kiss ever. Although my lips were still dry, his lips felt dry, drier than the sand on the beach. The blood that was on his lips dried slightly, but it didn’t bother me at all. 

Chip placed his hand on my lower back, moving me closer to his body. My arms wrapped around his neck, my body willingly moving closer to him as if it couldn’t get enough of him. I could tell that he craved me too, his other hand moving hastily around my body. 

“Is this a good idea?” I murmured against his lips. I was careful as I pressed my forehead to his, feeling a small smile tug on my lips. “You’re like… Seriously…” I stopped myself from saying ‘seriously injured’. 

“I’m okay. I’m fine with it if… If you’re fine with it,” he whispered, his hands going back to the hem of my shirt. I closed my eyes and let a deep breath of air out my nose. A small smile grew across my lips as his hand finally slipped up my shirt and up to my bra. “Please tell me your fine with it,” his voice wavered slightly with his words. I swallowed roughly and nodded, our noses brushing together as my head moved.  

“Yeah, yeah it’s… I’m fine with it…” I nodded, taking a deep breath before opening my eyes, “I’m more than fine with it,” I whispered as I looked at him.  

That was when he kissed me again. It was different than before. Because, before it was gentle and soft, like he didn’t want me to melt away. But also it was soft because we both had mild- not so mild injuries, and I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. The differences between this one and that one is, fervent and passionate, it took my breath away.

Chip’s hand on my back fiddled with my bra as he tried to unclasp it. I couldn’t help but laugh as he began to struggle. It was clear he was getting frustrated with the struggle, so when I went to help him, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“Sorry,” he muttered as he fought to pull my shirt off. I laughed and shook my head.

“No, it’s okay,” I whispered before lifting my arms in the air. Chip smiled before pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it somewhere behind me. I sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air hit my bare chest. Chip was careful as he pressed his lips back to mine, then on the side of my mouth, before trailing down my neck. It was gentle, and soft, but it was enough for me to notice him sucking soft spots on my skin. My hands went back to his head, carefully pulling at the hair on the back of his head.  

My head tilted to the side the further down my neck he went. A small gasp fell from my mouth as he attached his lips to my breast. My fingers gently pulled his hair, causing him to hum lightly. It was hard not to react to him and his touch. I needed him more than I needed air.

“D-don’t stop,” I whispered, my words wavering with each syllable. It was so hard to concentrate on anything as he placed his lips around my nipple. A shiver went down my spine, causing me to arch my back into him more. 

Chip stood up, causing me to latch on to him so I wouldn’t fall, before turning around to put me on the bed. I looked up at him, my breathing picking up slightly as he stared down at me. His lower lip was pulled between his teeth as he looked at me.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I whispered, lifting a hand to his face. He could hear the worry in my words as I spoke, letting his lower lip fall from his mouth. “Your lip is bleeding.” I left out that it was only bleeding a little bit, but it was enough to notice the red. 

“It’s fine,” he whispered, bringing his hand to rest on my cheek. His thumb brushed against my lower lip. My body shivered slightly before I opened my mouth slightly. He smirked before slipping his thumb between my lips. I swirled my tongue around his thumb as I stared at him. 

“Good girl,” Chip hummed, resting his other hand on the mattress by my head. I swallowed roughly before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down to my face. He moved his thumb from my mouth and looked down at me.

“Please don’t make me ask more than once,” I whispered, releasing my hand from his shirt to lift it to his face. He flinched away slightly as my hand barely touched his face. I could feel my face soften as I looked at him. “I won’t hurt you, Chip. You’re safe now,” I whispered as I moved my hand from his face.

“I know, I know,” he shook his head before lowering his face to mine, lightly pressing his lips to mine. I hummed, wrapping my arms around his neck again. “You won’t have to ask more than once,” he murmured against my lips. He looked down at me before pressing his lips to mine again, slowly kissing down my neck and chest. 

Although he was quick to move down my chest, he was slow once he got to my hips. 

“Hold on,” he stepped away from me, rushing to the bathroom real quick. I sat up, resting back on my hands, as I waited for him to come back. 

“What… What are you doing, Chip?” I asked, my patience starting to wear thin as the seconds ticked by. I swallowed roughly as he stepped back out of the bathroom.

“Cleaning my face a little bit more,” he looked at me with a small smile on his lips. I furrowed my eyebrows as he came back to stand between my legs. 

“I-I’m confused,” I looked up at him. Although, I really shouldn’t be confused. I’m the one who said ‘Please don’t make me ask more than once.’ and he obviously wanted it as badly as I did.

“You know,” he smiled as he lifted my hips a little bit before pulling my pants off my body. I suddenly couldn’t control my breathing anymore, and I was left trying to control myself. “Wouldn’t want to get blood everywhere,” he looked up at me as he dropped my pants to the ground.  

I stared at him watching as he lowered to his knees between my legs. He was gentle as pressed his lips to the soft skin on my inner thigh. I took a deep breath, trying so hard to regulate my breathing. My elbows and arms gave out, causing me to lie back hard on the bed. 

“So beautiful,” Chip whispered before blowing softly at my core. I gasped and pressed my head into the bed beneath me. My hands and fingers got knotted up in his hair again, slowly pulling his head closer to my body. 

Chip laughed at me before peppering butterfly kisses over my pussy. I gasped, tugging lightly on his hair. He looked up at me before grasping both of my hands and holding them down on the bed. 

“Ch-chip, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I whimpered pulling at his hands. He hummed before licking a stripe right up my cunt. I swear, I couldn’t even breathe. He squeezed my hands as he kept licking at me. After a moment, his lips attached around my clit, sucking softly at the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck,” I cried out as he pulled a hand from one of mine. I didn’t even notice that he pushed a finger into me. My free hand went over my mouth as a moan fell from me. Chip obviously enjoyed that sudden reaction, causing him to moan too. The vibrations from him caused me to moan again. 

“ ‘m so close. Please, Chip, so close,” I moved my hand to his hair and pulled on it a lot harder than before. It was like I couldn’t breathe, the wind being knocked from my lungs like I was punched in the gut. “Fuck, Chip,” I moaned, my hips jerking at him. He pulled his hand from mine and placed it firmly on my stomach, holding me down. 

“You’re doing so good, Princess,” he murmured against my body. I cried out when he pressed his lips back on me. 

My mind went fuzzy and my vision turned white. I could feel my toes curling against the rough, scratchy comforter beneath me. My hands gripped his hair and the blanket so tightly I was sure my knuckles would blanch. And the only thing I could say was his name as I came.

My chest heaved as I tried to breathe. When I opened my eyes, Chip was back over me. He smiled, clearly enjoying what had just happened. 

“That was… That was good,” I laughed lightly. Chip returned the laughter before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed following after him as he pulled away from me. 

“That was, like, barely the pregame,” Chip laughed as he looked down at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and smiled softly. “If at all the pregame,”

“Well are you going to get started on the actual game or just leave me alone?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow as I stared at him. Chip laughed again before standing up right to rid himself of his jeans. I quickly moved so I was lying up by the pillows. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asked once he was back over me. I swallowed roughly and nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m positive. If I wasn’t… I wouldn’t have let you eat me out the way you did,” I laughed as I brought my hands to his face, “I appreciate you cleaning your face a bit before you did that though. I don’t really want the staph infection or STD,” I laughed harder than I should have. But that in turn caused Chip to glare at me.

“Well, now I don’t think I want to have sex with you,” he looked away from me before sitting up right. I stopped laughing before sitting up to look at him. 

“C’mon, Chip, I was just joking.” I moved so I was closer to him, “I’d love to get a STD from you,” I bit back my laughter as I looked at him. He glared at me again. 

“Shut up,” he muttered, looking down at the bed. I smiled before lifting a hand to his face.

“You’re the one who wants to fuck the girl you just met 4 days ago,” I pointed out as I moved to straddle his waist. He looked at me as I sat on him. “But, to be fair, I also want to have sex with the guy I met 4 days ago so it’d be a little hypocritical of me to judge you,” I shrugged. I tried really hard not to look at his cock, but it was right there… It was obvious that he was painfully hard. “Use me, Chip,” I swallowed roughly as I looked up at his face. His eyes were scanning my face as his hands were resting on my hips. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin, and I was more than happy to let that happen.

What he did next surprised me. He lifted my hips up so I was hovering over him, before slamming me on his cock. A shout came from my mouth as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pressed my face into his shoulder as I tried to breathe properly after the sudden intrusion. 

“Fuck,” I panted before looking up at him after a moment. My muscles clenched around him as I slowly got used to his size. Chip pressed his lips to mine before carefully thrusting up into me. My hips slowly moved, meeting him at the perfect spots. His lips hardly left mine, and when they did it was only for a few moments.

“Gonna fill you up,” Chip mumbled as he pressed his lips to my neck, “Gonna put a baby in you,”

“Please! Don’t stop, fuck,” I cried, rolling my hips against his. My mouth opened around his shoulder, my teeth carefully sinking into his skin. “God,” I whined looking back up at him, “Do it, please, do it,” 

“Yeah? You like that?” Chip groaned as he brought a hand to my chest. I let out a shaky breath and nodded as he massaged my breast. “Being filled with my cum, carrying my child,” he looked up at me. I pressed my lips together and nodded, feeling myself get closer to the edge. 

“Fuck, Chip, please,” I placed my hands on either side of his face and pulling him closer to my face. I pressed my lips to his as he pulled me closer to his body, my chest pressing against his. 

My breathing grew raged as he picked up his pace. His hand dropped to where our bodies met, his finger encircling around my clit. I was pushed right to the edge, calling out his name as he called out mine. His hips faltered slightly as he filled me with his essence. 

My head dropped to his shoulder and my arms wrapped around his chest. It took a while for either of us to move, the intensity of the moment catching up with us. Although, the last few days in general were catching up with me. 

“I gotta clean you up,” Chip finally whispered after a moment. I swallowed roughly before I struggled to get off his lap. 

“You really do want to have kids with me,” I laughed as we finally broke a part, “I mean, yeah I want kids too. But not for a while,” 

“I told you, we gotta get to Iowa first,” Chip looked over at me as he got off the bed. When he noticed that I was a little nervous about that, he came over to my side, “We don’t have to go to Iowa,”

“No, no, I know… It’s just… The thought of leaving… And going with you. The other day was terrifying, with everything th-What if I just left?” 

“I know you're nervous. You have every right to be nervous. If we leave, we can get as far from that place as possible. We can find a safe place and be safe… Together,” he knelt on the ground beside me. I looked down at him and nodded, “Besides, you had the most boring life in that stupid motel,”

“True, true,” I laughed and shook my head, “You’re not going to, like, murder me… Are you?” I looked at him as I carefully grasped his hand.

“No! I wouldn’t do that! After the shit I just said to you with my cock in you? You think I’d kill you?” Chip nearly fell back on the ground, causing me to laugh again. I smiled and nodded.

“Okay, I… I guess if the worst thing you’ll do to me is get me pregnant… Then I think I’m safe.” I looked at him with a small smile, “And that’s not even bad,” I shrugged as I looked at the bed in front of me.

“I won’t murder you if you won’t murder me,” he spoke, lifting his hand and showing me his pinkie. I looked back at him and nodded.

“Promise,” I whispered before interlocking my pinkie with his. 

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

Can I Have This Dance? (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating: PG - Fluffy 

Word Count: 2,689

Synopsis: 4 times the reader asked Steve to dance with her and one time Steve her.

Info: Written for @cockslut-padalecki​’s Not My Ninth Challenge in celebration of 9k followers! Also Happy Belated birthday, I hope you had a great one. I choose, How Do I Live by LeAnn Rimes and Wedding Ceremony. The dividers are by @firefly-graphics​ 💘 I’m posting this on my barley working laptop, so forgive me. Also all mistakes are mine as this is not beta read.

1st Time:

Honestly what possessed her to wear her favorite white denim overall shorts to Sam’s barbecue? They were now stained with all all kinds of food and handprints from the children of the Avengers children asking to be held by her. Admittedly seeing everyone so happy and spending the afternoon with her fiancé made it worth it. Also Natasha would probably be able to show her how to get the stains out.

“Want to queue up the next song?” Sam nudged her handing over his phone that was connected to speakers. Giddily Y/N took the phone and went through the approved barbecue playlist as Killer Queen started to play, she continued to scroll as her head bopped to the song. Finding the perfect one she handed the phone over to Sam’s significant other Lou who kissed her on the cheek. 

Bucky and Steve were sharing a phone screen laughing at whatever video it was they were watching, probably one of Alpine that Bucky had taken. Getting up from her chair Y/N stood beside Steve’s and brushed her right hand across his broad shoulders, goosebumps started to rise on his skin as she leaned in to brush her lips beside his ear. 

“Come dance with me, Stevie please?" the blonde's face blushed as his fiance turned away from him making her way back towards the dancing couples. “Punk if you don't I sure as hell will.” Steve turned to give his best friend a glare just as the baritone voice sang out, jumping to his feet.

“I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night, the bugs and the dirt. Why were you digging? What did you bury? Before those hands pulled me from the earth.” Steve rushed to Y/N’s side, a small smile on her face her fiance placed his face at her time taking in the scent of lavender and mint, while his hands rested at her hips. Y/N’s arms circled his neck interlocking her hands, eyes closing she placed her heads against his chest over his heart. As Hozier sang the couple just swayed from side to side, loving each other.

“I could not ask you where you came from. I could not ask and neither could you. Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we could just kiss like real people do.” As the song came to an end Steve and Y/N’s eyes met, she was biting her lip, a look of worry was in her eyes. 

“What?” Looking placed his hands on Y/N’s face doing everything he could to ease the worry in his fiancés face. 

“Just, how would I live without you?” Steve scoffed and pulled Y/N into his arms, hugging her close, “You’ll never have to live without me, I’m going anywhere. I love you.”

2nd Time:

“Well son her mother would have loved you and I’m so proud to have you joining our family.” Andy clapped his daughters fiancé on the shoulder, before looking out on the dance floor to see all four of his children dancing together to the Macarena having a good time. 

“I’m lucky to have her Andy and I love both her and this family.” Steve assured Y/N’s father how much he loved her as the song came to an end. The DJ for the reception started to walk towards Y/N’s  sister and her husband. 

Y/N stood between her brothers playfully nudging each other like they used to do as kids. Suddenly it was quiet in the reception hall, both her and Steve were looking at Y/N’s sister and her husband who smiled at everyone, but they were staring at Y/N. 

“I need my sister Y/N and her fiancé Steve to come up here for a second.” Y/N’s brothers pushed her forward, suddenly glad she had exchanged her heels for converse 4 or 5 songs back. Steve and she met halfway there, hands grasping at each other as their fingers intertwined. The blonde leaned over and kissed the crown of his fiancé's face making her blush as they reached Legacie and Michael. 

“This weekend was actually supposed to be the weekend that Y/N and Steve got married, but 6 months ago I came to my sister and told her I was pregnant. Y/N knew Michael and I would want to move our wedding up, Y/N and Steve immediately asked if I would like to take their wedding and for that we are so thankful. The thing about my sister is she is just like our mom, always giving and so loving, it makes so much sense why Steve fell in love with my little sister. I got to thinking a way to thank you and that is dedicating a song to you, your favorite song as a kid.” Legacie passed the microphone back to the DJ, before she reached over kissing her little on the cheek. Y/N looked at her sister before her jaw dropped and her cheeks turned pink as the keyboard of the popular ’90s Australian pop singer hit started to play. 

“I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish. I'll be your fantasy, I'll be your hope, I'll be your love. Be everything that you need.” Y/N still holding onto Steve’s hand turned to stand in front of him and looked up at him. 

“Will you dance with my love?” with a smile on his face, Steve didn't even verbalize his answer, he just gave a tug of her hand pulling her body closer to his, as other couples joined them on the dance floor.

“I wanna stand with you on a mountain. I wanna bathe with you in the sea. I wanna lay like this forever. Until the sky falls down on me. I wanna stand with you on a mountain. I wanna bathe with you in the sea.I want to live like this forever. Until the sky falls down on me.” As they continued to dance among Legacie and Michale's family and friends, he tried to imagine how he would live without her in his life. He had an answer before the song was even over he knew a life without Y/N was no life at all. 

3rd Time:

She was trying really hard not to cry but it felt but it was 3:12 in the morning, it was raining, it looked like Bucky had finished off the rest of her Ben and Jerry Star Spangled Berry Swirl, and Friday was playing her I got the blues playlist. Boy did she have the blues, she shouldn’t though, it was November, the holiday season was in full swing, but it was as if her heart wasn’t in it. 

Then the piano kicked in and the tears really started. 

“Look into my eyes, you will see what you mean to me.”

Steve down the hall in bed they shared hearing sniffles of his fiancé, got out of bed, grabbing her cardigan from ottoman at the foot of the bed. Y/N stood at the kitchen island sipping a cup of hot tea as Bryan Adams sang. 

“Darling?” Steve came up behind her and placed the over side article of clothing over shoulder, kissing her temple. Setting the steaming cup of lavender and blueberries down, Y/N turned around to look him in the eyes, with tears still coming down. 

“Dance with me Stevie, please?” with a little lift of the right side of his lips. Steve pulled Y/N to him, placing her head over his heartbeat, he encased her his arms and started to sway them. 

“Don't tell me, it’s not worth fightin' for. I can't help it, there’s  nothin' I want more. You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you.”

“I can’t live without you Stevie.” Y/N whispered into the night as she looked out at the rain coming down in the night. 

“And you won't have to," Steve promised. 

4th Time:

It was finally the New Year, 12:01 on January 1st to be exact and everyone was partying at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, thanks to Pepper and Tony. Peter Quill and his friends had made it, Thor with Jane, Carol Danver, Monica Rambeau with her friends Jimmy Woo and Darcy, Fantastic Four, Peter Parker had brought his best friend Ned and girl friend MJ, all the Avengers were there, even the Wakanda gang was accounted for, the place was packed. It seemed as if the bad guys were in need of a day off. 

Steve stood a few feet away from Y/N who was dancing with Natasha, Clint, Shuri, Peter, MJ, Wanda, Scott, Johnny, Groot, Darcy, Sam, Lou, and Jimmy Woo, they were all dancing to thank u, next, laughing and having a good time. Lou was currently on Sam's shoulders making the Bucky who was beside Steve, hoot’d, as he took a shot from the Asgardian mead. It was great for Steve to see all his friends and family to be letting loose. 

Y/N walked over as the song came to a closure and pulled Steve in for a kiss earning a cheer from the group they had surrounded themselves with. Blushing they pulled apart as the familiar violin started to play across the room, making the room erupt cheers yet again. Tonight’s crowd was easily pleased, who knew all it took was alcohol, food, friends, and good music? 

As the drum kicked in, Y/N’s head started to bop her foot tapping along, grabbing Steve’s hand she started to pull him towards the group, grabbing Bucky’s hand along the way. 

“Steve can I have this dance?” Looking over her shoulder as she got ready to start jumping up and down, Steve looked at her as if he had to think on it, but stopped when Bucky hit him in the bicep. “Not with the metal arm, and yes!”

“Come on Eileen! Oh, I swear, what he means. At this moment you mean everything, you in that dress. My thoughts I confess, verge on dirty. Oh, come on Eileen.” The group's form of dancing was jumping up and dancing, moving their heads side to side, throwing in mixed moves, like the sprinkler or epaule here and there. It was just about letting go. Steve and Y/N danced together with the fingers of their left-right hands interlaced jumping up and down, throwing their heads back and forth like they were at a rock concert. 

As Bucky danced with his best friend and the girl that had become like a sister to him, he couldn't picture their lives without one another. There was no Steve without Y/N in it, no Y/N without Steve. They were so madly, deeply in love, that to lose the other it would be close to losing themselves. He vowed at that moment to do whatever it took to always bring Steve home and to always protect Y/N for him. 

The 1 Time Steve Asked Y/N to Dance:

“This is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for!” Bucky raised his glass of bourbon to the crowded room, before he leaned down to place a kiss on Y/N’s cheek. He had just given his best man speech congratulating his best friend on finding his soulmate who made him happy, and on his retirement. Lou leaned forward putting their arms around Y/N’s shoulders swaying, making the bride laugh as the best friends hugged. 

Steve took the microphone from Sam and pulled Y/N away from her best friend, confused she looked up at him. The room was silent with all eyes on them, as it had been since the moment she stepped out onto the wooden boardwalk Pepper’s people had built leading to the dock, everyone’s eyes had been on them. 

“Through this whole wedding process my wife has been so incredibly patient with me. Originally I just said whatever you want Y/N it’s your day, but she would scrunch her face up, for her family they know what I’m talking about, the one where she doesn’t like something or doesn’t understand, anyways. Lou, Y/N’s best friend and the perfect person for Sam came to me said,

“Rogers for a superhero, you are pretty dense, the wedding day is both your big day. This is a day you both are going to look back on, tell your children about and share with your family and friends. Don’t make her plan it and make all the choices on her own.” Steve looked down at Y/N and smiled, as his wife laughed and gave her best friends hand a tight squeeze before letting it go. 

“So I did what I could, your napkins I chose, thank you very much, your centerpieces though, you are going to have to take that up with the my beautiful wife’s cousin, Willow, she handmaid these beautiful pieces for us, so we could reuse them in our winery and barn.” Willow blew the couple a kiss making the crowd laugh as Y/N caught it and stumbled back, before throwing one back just as extravagantly. 

“Anyways the reason I’m up here is because I really didn’t do that much, but I made a promise to my wife that I, the man out of time, could pick the song we dance to as a married couple.” Turning his body so now the newlyweds were now facing each other, Sam took the microphone holding it up to Steve's mouth, as Steve held both Y/N’s hands in his.

“Steve we’ve talked about this you’re right where you need to be.” Steve just nodded his head and kissed her on the lips getting a few people in the crowd cheering. Bucky, Sam, Lou, and Y/N’s siblings are motioned for the crowd to quiet down. 

“I admit I waited till last night to e-mail our DJ Ned and tell him our song. But to be fair if it hadn’t been for a talk I had while sleeping at Sam’s and him playing this song we probably would just have some random song. Thank you Sam for saving the day.” Sam pulled the microphone telling the couple it was no problem really. 

“With that all said and done, Mrs. Rogers can I have this dance?” Laughing Y/N nodded as they made their way around the tables holding hands waving to their family and friends. Ned Leeds, was the nights DJ, thanks to coming recommended by his friend Peter Parker, this was his hobby by a means to pay for college and his growing obsession of Star Wars Legos. As soon as the couple had made it to the center of the faux hardwood dance floor, he hit play.

“How do I get through one night without you? If I had to live without you, what kind of life would that be?”

Y/N let a gasp slip past her lips as the familiar country song played. Her arms held onto Steve’s shoulders, while he held onto her hips, they did their usual sway, there was no need for fancy footing or putting on a show. This was just them being them, in love, sharing that love with a room full of their closest family friends. 

“I promised you, you wouldn’t have to know what it was like to live without me, and you won’t either of you.” Y/N looked up at him placing a kiss on his soft lips, letting a few tears of happiness slip. This is what contentment felt like, to feel whole, be loved, and find that perfect person. 

“How do I live without you? How do I live without you, baby? How do I live?”

[cocosstories]

Pete Davidson One Shot- Jr Writer Series 5

-okay so this one is kind of out there but I love it lol you and Pete are co parents to a cute little baby. Things didn’t work out but there’s still clearly a lot of sexual tension and hidden feelings. You both love each other but both of you are being stubborn.

Warning: smut

It had been seven months since you had found Pete and he learned of your pregnancy. He had vowed that day to, get and stay clean and so far he has done well to keep his promise.

Pete had checked himself into rehab that afternoon and stayed an entire 90 days. Lorne was great, giving him the time off with the rest of the cast showing their support as well.

You had kept your word, standing by his side the whole time while he worked on getting better.

Your pregnancy had gone well, despite the stress and almost a month after he got out of rehab, you had given birth to a healthy baby boy with Pete holding your hand through the whole labor and delivery.

Co-parenting was going well. Pete was great with the baby, always willing to help out anytime you needed it. The only problem with the situation was having to be around him all the time.

As hard as you tried, you couldn't quite get over him and seeing him with your child didn't help matters.

"Hey, Y/N, can you bring me a diaper?"

Pete calls out from the nursery in your apartment.

"Here."

You walk in the room bringing a new pack with you and hand him one setting the rest of the pack on the air mattress Pete had brought over for the nights he stayed over to help with the baby, which lately, seemed to be most nights.

A few minutes later, Pete comes out to the living room where you are catching up on some trash tv and sits down next to you.

"I think he's hungry."

He says as he hands you the fussy baby. You take him without a word and begin feeding him with a sigh.

"What's wrong?"

Pete breaks the silence a few minutes later.

"Nothing."

You say, shifting a bit in your seat.

"Bullshit Y/N. We may not be together anymore but I still know when something is wrong with you."

Pete turns off the tv and looks over at you, waiting for your answer.

"Exactly Pete, we aren't together anymore and yet you are here all day every day. Every time I turn around you're there."

The words came out quick and a little more harsh than you wanted them to.

"To help with my son."

He says under his breath but loud enough for you to hear.

"Is that really why Pete? Are you only here for the baby? Or maybe you think he is a way for us to get back together. Because if that's the case, you are wrong. You cheated on me. You broke my heart. Nothing you say or do will ever change that."

You stop for a moment to take a breath, taking time to bring the baby up from your breast to your shoulder, covering yourself up and thinking about your next words.

"It may have been one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, especially with everything that has happened the last few months, but I finally got over you. You should try to do the same."

With that, you hand the baby back to his father and go to your bedroom, afraid if you stayed any longer, you would give in and tell him the truth.

"Can I come in?"

You are startled a few minutes later by Pete's voice.

"Pete, I'm tired, I just want to go to bed."

"No."

Pete says and steps forward.

"What?"

You look up and swallow hard as he closes the distance between you even more, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"No. We are going to talk about this. Obviously this is an issue and we need to fix it. For him."

He gestures to the now sleeping baby in his arms.

"Fine but I'm pretty sure I said everything out in the living room."

Pete rolls his eyes at your hostile and defensive tone, not believing it for a second.

"Look, I know I fucked up back then. What I did to you was the biggest mistake I have ever made in my entire life. I thought I had lost you forever and then you came and saved me from myself and gave me the chance to be a father to my son."

The words hit you like a brick but you do your best to keep your composure.

"Staying here and helping out all the time is my way of saying thank you. I know we are over and I would never expect you to change your mind about it. I still love you, I will always love you. I will never forgive myself for ruining the best thing I ever had in my life but I refuse to give up a chance to be in my sons life. I don't want to make you uncomfortable though, so after tonight, I won't stay the night unless you ask me to. We can sit down later and come up with a plan if you want, anything I can do to make it easier for you. But we need to figure out something ok?"

You nod, unable to speak and he gets up and leaves you alone with your thoughts.

Laying in bed, Pete's words replaying in your head until you can't take it anymore.

You get up and head to the door, stopping halfway, beginning to talk yourself out of what you are planning to do next.

"Fuck it."

You open the door and find Pete on the other side, pacing and talking to himself.

"Oh, sorry I-"

Before Pete can finish, you jump into his arms, kissing him.

"Y/N?"

Pete pulls back and sets you down on your feet, confused as to what was happening.

"Shh."

You kiss him again, pulling him into your bedroom and into your bed.

"Are you sure about this?"

Pete asks before taking things any further.

"Please."

You look up at him, desperate need evident in your eyes.

No other words were needed as you and Pete give into every urge and feeling you have been pushing away since you found him with that girl a year ago.

Pete makes love to you, the moonlight streaming in through your bedroom window enough for you to see his face.

"What does this mean?"

You and Pete are laying cuddled in your bed a while later.

"I don't know."

As good as it feels, you still can't let yourself give up and let him back into your life in that way again.

Just as Pete is about to say something, the baby starts to cry.

"I've got him."

Pete says pulling his sweats back on and heading to the babies room.

"What the fuck am I doing?"

You get up quickly and pull on your robe.

"I still love you too."

Pete is changing the baby when he hears you behind him, turning towards you.

"What?"

He picks up the baby and walks towards you.

"I still love you too. What happened tonight, you don't know how long I've wanted that. After everything, I thought I would never be able to get passed it, that I would never be able to look at you the same way but I was wrong. I love you Pete and I want to try again."

Pete's eyes light up at your words as he pulls you close to him with his baby free arm.

"But you have to swear to me you won't break my heart again. We won't survive another hit like that."

He pulls back a bit and looks down into your eyes.

"I swear on our sons life, I will never do anything to hurt you ever again. I want this Y/N, you, me and our son. I want us to be a family. A real family."

He says, this time you have no doubt that he is being totally honest.

"Okay. Then lets do it. Lets be a family."

You say and then lead him back into your bedroom, the three of you climbing into bed and drifting off to sleep, finally back together and happy, the way it should be.

[misslilli]

Thank you to the lovelies who are still here ❤️

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 22 - B Is For Basketball

[ DS ]

October has faded into November, pumpkin-spiced latte has been replaced by peppermint mocha and plans for Thanksgiving break have been secured, my mom beside herself with joy that Bill Jr. will be returning from his assignment overseas just in time for the holidays.

At school, we’ve made paper turkeys for our window decorations in school, and slowly, I’m beginning to get into the holiday spirit myself. I stay late on this Friday afternoon to put the finishing touches on the turkeys, cutting out paper candy corn and taping everything to the insides of the windows that line our classroom. ‘Looks pretty good, the kids finally got the hang of cutting paper along the lines neatly.’

I exchange my heels for my gym sneakers after a long day, grab my book bag and head out, locking the door behind me. The eery calm of an empty school building soothes me and I turn out the lights of our hallway. When I look out into the school yard, I notice that someone has left on the lights in our gym and I roll my eyes. That someone might have been me forgetting after my lesson today, so I cross the yard quickly to turn them off before I head home.

When I enter the gym, though, I freeze at the top of the bleachers. The floor is empty safe for one Fox Mulder, dribbling a basketball and shooting hoops. I know I should just turn around and leave him to it, but I just can’t help watching, slack-jawed, as the muscles of his back ripple under that tight t-shirt. It’s not often that I get to watch him without getting caught, so I allow myself to stare for just a little bit longer, heart hammering in my chest.

I only realize that my hands have gone limp when my keys hit the floor with a deafening crash and I almost jump out of my skin. ‘Run! Move! Now!’ My legs are not cooperating, damn them, and I see to my horror that he whips around and spots me standing on top of the bleacher’s stairs.

“Jesus, Scully! You trying to kill me?” ‘Those damn forearms of yours are what’s killing me…’

His surprised expression morphs into a smile. “Skinner said it’s okay if I used the gym for practice in the winter. What are you still doing here?”

“Uh... I was hanging turkeys … and I noticed the light on … and I thought that I had left them on after my lesson … and yeah…” ‘Stop rambling, you idiot!’

Now he’s grinning even wider and I can tell he’s going to tease me mercilessly. In my head, I start a list of ‘10 things I hate about you.’

“Didn’t know you hang your own turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, Scully, that’s pretty badass of you!” ‘I want to smack that smirk off your pretty face right now, how’s that for badass?’

I roll my eyes at him and he has the audacity to look incredibly pleased with himself. “Have you ever shot a three-pointer, Scully?” ‘What now?’ I take a moment to contemplate what to say next.

“No. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m only a few inches taller than a yardstick, so I guess I have found more necessary things to do with my time than fail at basketball.”

He jerks his head holding up the basketball. “Get over here, Scully.” The tone in his voice makes my skin tingle.

I’m almost 100 percent sure he thinks I won’t do it, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of backing out now, so instead of shooting him down, I walk down the stairs slowly until I’m standing in front of him. I have to tip my head pretty far back to give him a blank look and the eyebrow and smack the basketball out of his hand, sending it bouncing on the floor a few times. Now it’s my turn to smirk at his surprised expression.

Laughing, he goes to pick up the ball and I think of other things I’d like to smack as I get a good look at his backside when he bends down. “Alright sassy lady, you stand here and I’ll try to get around you to the hoop. You need to block me and take the ball from me, okay?”

We move into position and he dribbles the ball a few times. “Okay. Just don’t body-check me!” ‘Oh yes please, body-check me. Tackle me. Wrestle me down to the ground.’

“Body-checking’s for hockey, Scully, so don’t worry!” He moves suddenly, to pass on my right side and I follow, trying to get the ball out from under his hand but he turns and twirls around me and in three long strides, he’s jumping up to the hoop, sinking the ball into it with a satisfying swoosh. Color me impressed.

“You want to try?”

“There was some talk about shooting three-pointers, I think I’ll stick to that for now. Where do I start, here?”

“No, that’s the free throw line. Back there’s the three-point line. Now don’t be nervous, I know for a fact that you can take a shot. Or three…” He looks so pleased with himself at the hint, but it only makes me flash back to Halloween night. Steve. Easy lay.

Shaking the thought from my head, I take the ball he offers to me and bounce it a few times.

‘Oy that’s pretty far away from the hoop, crap. Too late to back out now, Dana.’

I move to stand at the indicated line, holding the ball between my hands and concentrating hard on the hoop, I throw it. The ball sails forward in a pathetically low arc, missing the hoop for miles. If he laughs now, I swear to God, I’ll hang his ass from the backboard.

Thankfully for him, though, he bites back the teasing and instead, moves around me to stand against my back. The hairs at the back of my neck stand up at his proximity. “Come on, I’ll show you.” Reaching his arms around me, his front pressed against my back, he holds the ball in front of my face. ‘He’s too close, damn it! Houston, I have a problem!’

He nudges my foot outward and forward a little with his and I can feel his warm breath on my neck. “Legs shoulder width apart.” Next, he takes my wrist, raising my arm to 90 degrees and places my hand underneath the ball. “Spread your fingers and rest the ball on your palm. Only touch it with your fingertips.” I swallow hard around a lump in my throat, nodding. ‘Mayday, mayday!’

My left hand is placed on the side of the ball. “Don’t grip the ball with your left hand. Now you need to bend your knees and jump.” I start to hyperventilate when it dawns on me where exactly my ass will be pressed against when I bend my knees. But his hands leave mine as he steps back and the loss of warmth on my back makes me shiver.

I jump and make my shot and while it’s infinitesimally better than my first shot, I still miss. I groan in frustration, I hate being bad at something.

“I’m just too short, damn it!” ‘If I start to cry now, I’ll hang myself from that backboard.’ Now I’m not only agitated and nervous, now I’m frustrated on top of it all.

He gets the ball back and hands it to me, a thoughtful look on his face and I wonder what he’s up to now. “Hmm… okay, let’s try something else.”

I almost jump out of my skin when his hands grab my waist just below my ribs. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, Scully, I’m giving you height.” I’m feel lightheaded. “Okay, on three you jump and make your shot. 1, 2, 3!” I follow his orders and he lifts me over his head as I shoot for the hoop, my heart going a mile a minute, a faint ringing in my ears.

This is all so perfect and romantic and sexy all at the same time.

No, wait.

It’s too perfect, too romantic, too sexy, too close, too much. too soon. too many unknowns. too scary.

When he lowers me down his front slowly, I stumble forward as I regain some footing under my feet, whipping around and breathing hard. I don’t even hear the swoosh of my money shot.

Only managing to choke out a strangled “I gotta go!” before ripping up the stairs, through the doorway, into the chilly November night.

Leaning my head back against the teacher’s bathroom door, my mind flashes back to the night on Halloween, bits of conversation reverberating in my head. “Not relationship material. Hot teacher. Catholic girl. Golden Retriever. Easy lay.”

I go back in history to all the times I’ve found myself curled into a ball on the floor of my bathroom, my living room, my kitchen, in my bed. Crying so hard that no sounds left my mouth, all the pain in my chest making it hard to breathe.

I knock my head backwards into the door once, frustrated.

I’m just too broken. Damaged goods.

I wait for what feels like hours but is probably just a few minutes before turning off the lights and heading home.

----------

[ FM ]

‘Shit. You overstepped. You made her feel uncomfortable. Unsafe.’ I want to slap my stupid-ass self as I watch the doors close after her. ‘It seemed like she was having fun, what happened? Should I go after her? Does she want me to?’ After a long while I put the basketball where it belongs, turn off the lights and leave the gym in search for her. I have no idea where to look and if she even wants to be found, but the thought of me causing her pain sends me running through the dark school anyway. I stop to listen for sounds several times, but everything’s deadly quiet. I can’t find her.

Shit.

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 6, All-New Halloween Spooktacular!

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Halloween is afoot in Westview and it’s a must to partake in the festivities. Unfortunately, things are a little rocky in the Maximoff house with Wanda’s brother Pietro visiting, [Y/N] moving in, and Vision and Wanda’s rough patch continuing. Can Halloween relieve some tension at home or will things continue to crumble?

Word count: 7,760

Warnings: None! Just maybe a possibly poorly made Rocky Horror Picture Show reference because I’ve never actually seen it, lol. Also a slight change in format because I just realized now that Tumblr wasn’t taking my page breaks between scenes; sorry for that in previous episodes.

Taglist: @madamevirgo​ @ravennight41​ @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard​ @badasspolygenderfriend​ @austynparksandpizza​ @sophster1881​ @haileyybird @maceidelic​ @alexpress @angelvinella​

Tip Jar

~~~

    Living in Westview after having your memories partially restored was a very strange experience and you quickly realized why Vision would “turn people back off” after jogging their memories; things just didn’t quite make sense when you had the combined knowledge of the outside world and the bubbled Westview and it was almost more confusing and uncomfortable to experience it this way. For example, you couldn’t be sure whether it had been days or weeks since you’d regained your memories and Wanda and Vision had decided to have you move in with them, or why all of Westview had changed from an 80s aesthetic to a 90s one. What was especially weird was how people would randomly stop and talk into space as if they were talking to a camera in a TV show, but there was nothing to see when you looked in that direction. With your memories not fully intact even now, it hadn’t done much to help your and Vision’s investigation into what was going on in Westview or outside of it either—before whatever Wanda had done to Westview, you were a bit of a recluse and had suffered dementia in the past, so what memories had been returned was mostly irrelevant—and Wanda, who was still perfectly happy with living in almost ignorant bliss, wasn’t much help. The two of you continued seeking out the strange and trying to put pieces together but it was becoming increasingly difficult and the chaos of making space for you, Wanda’s brother returning, and now Halloween wasn’t helping.

    There was also the desire to ignore it all and go back to playing house. Like now, as you were heading back into the house from the backyard—you had been finishing up repairs on Vision’s failed attempt at building the kids a treehouse—when you heard Tommy and Billy chatting. Their voices faded in further as you opened the back door.

    “Wrong!” Tommy was saying into space. When you looked, there was still no person, no camera like in a sitcom. “Halloween’s about candy. And scaring people, but mostly candy.”

    “Where’s your costume, Tommy?” Billy asked his brother. As you stepped inside, he looked over Tommy’s head at you and smiled. 

    “This is my costume. I’m the cool twin.”

    You put your hands on your hips and made an exaggerated surprised face in Billy’s direction, pretending as if this was the first time you’ve ever heard Tommy tease his brother. Billy’s smile widened slightly before he looked away, acting like you weren’t there except for a glance or two. Tommy didn’t seem to notice your presence quite yet. 

    “What does that make me?” Billy said.

    Tommy hummed and cocked his head to one side; you could almost picture the flashback going on in his head before he looked back at Billy and replied matter-of-factly, “A dorkasaurus rex.”

    “Not a real dinosaur,” Billy said with a scowl, then went back to his task of scooping his and Tommy’s lunch into bowls. 

    “And mean,” you piped up. 

    Tommy squealed and jumped away from where you were standing behind him. He spun around and almost flung himself into the kitchen counter but jerked away just quickly enough. Then he stumbled back in the opposite direction, resulting in running into your legs. Or, he would have, if you hadn’t caught him by the shoulders and stopped his floundering. He looked up and you with wide eyes.

    “Oh, hey, [Y/N],” he said casually, trying to cover up his embarrassment with coolness.

    “Heya, kiddo,” you chirped back with a smile. You ran a hand over his hair and leaned down to give him a peck on the forehead. He responded with a grossed-out face and a “Blech!” so you decided to mess up his hair by ruffling it. You grinned as he flailed his way to freedom, then pointed and said, “Don’t be a little shit to your brother.”

    Tommy grinned, most likely because of your use of a curse word, and attempted to flatten his hair back in place.

    “[Papa/Mama/Nopa]!” Billy, who was much less like his uncle and much more like his parents than Tommy, was perfectly fine with getting a kiss on the cheek after trotting over and throwing himself into your waiting arms, despite still making a face when you did so. He laughed when you hauled him into your arms and cradled him like a baby, something you didn’t get to do nearly enough before they’d aged themselves up, and happily kicked his legs.

    Tommy rushed over to be included and you adjusted to holding Billy around the stomach with one arm and picked his brother up with your other. Holding them both with their backs against your chest now, you spun around a few times and the boys laughed and kicked their feet out. You were careful to swing them high enough off the ground that they wouldn’t hit anything and hollered, “My boysss!” 

    Then a snore came from the living room, reminding you that there was still someone in the house that didn’t wake up at a reasonable hour. You made a cringing face at the twins as you stopped and they covered their giggling mouths while you put them down. They scrambled back over to the kitchen counter to finish getting their food while you paused and looked over at the couch with hands on your hips. “He sure knows how to sleep, huh?”

    Pietro Maximoff had shown up on Wanda and Vision’s doorstep the same night you’d regained your powers, the same night that they’d asked you to move in. As soon as you’d seen him in the doorway from your blanket nest on the couch, something about him was off. You were aware that you weren’t supposed to know him yet by Westview rules, so it wasn’t all that strange that he didn’t recognize you from Sokovia—or maybe you just hadn’t been as memorable to him as you had to his sister, which would make sense since he wasn’t the one you were kissing and sleeping in the same bed as—but what mainly bothered you was that the face in front of you and the face in your memories didn’t match… at all. Westview’s Pietro was a completely different person than the one you remembered from a HYDRA testing base, you had been sure of it, although now that you’d lived with the man for however long it’s been, this new face was becoming interchangeable with the old one in your mind. Not only was the confusion about his appearance weird but there was something about his energy that was just wrong; when he’d introduced himself to you that night, you’d seen and felt yellow, burnt at the edges by a soul-sucking black, radiating from him.

    All this to note and nothing to come of it so far. Pietro was a bit of a troublemaking deadbeat, albeit a good-natured guy, who slept on the couch and didn’t wake up until anywhere from noon to four in the afternoon. He got along well with the twins, especially Tommy, and other than seeming disgruntled about him taking up space, Vision didn’t seem too bothered by his presence. Wanda didn’t seem threatened or bothered by Pietro being around at all either, except for worrying about him causing trouble; she hadn’t reacted any type of way to him showing up on her doorstep that night at all, other than inviting him inside, which was the only reason you were able to relax around him for the time being.

    Tommy and Billy walked past you with bowls in their hands. You gave them each a pat on the head as they went and only stopped Billy to complement the Halloween costume that he wore. He smiled and asked what you were wearing and you were surprised to realize that you hadn’t yet come up with one. You told him to keep a suggestion in mind and sent him after his brother, who was looking on at the snoring mess of a couch-Pietro in admiration.

    “Man,” the longer-haired boy said, “he even snores cool.”

    You made a face. You weren’t so sure about that.

    “I’m gonna wake him up.”

    “Don’t!” Billy startled, holding his twin back with a hand on his chest.

    Tommy grinned. “You scared?”

    “He’s our uncle. Why would I be scared?”

    “‘Cause it’s four o’clock in the afternoon and you’re secretly afraid he’s a vampire.”

    “No, I’m not.”

    “Yes, you are.”

    You looked on at the bickering boys with mild amusement while you got yourself a fruit from the kitchen until movement from the couch drew your attention. Pietro, who was awake now, was slowly shifting around and getting into a sitting position. When he was where he could see you, he gave you a smirk that spelled out nothing but trouble, then winked. You rolled your eyes but stayed quiet.

    In less than a minute, Pietro went from tangled in his blanket on the couch to standing in front of Tommy and Billy, yelling something about blood. The boys unsurprisingly screamed, and then the three of them were running around the living room in Halloween-fueled chaos.

    You stood at the kitchen counter, cutting your fruit of choice into slices and unreactive other than a little smile toying at your lips.

    “Oh,” came a mildly irritated voice as Wanda descended the stairs from the house’s second floor, “somebody better be bleeding, broken, or on fire.”

    You attempted to catch a glimpse of her from your place in the kitchen but all you could see was a flash of a red cape. You grinned and hurried to finish slicing and clean up so you could join the others in the living room.

    “Whoa, Mom,” Billy said, “Are you old Red Riding Hood?”

    There was a moment of silence and you could easily picture the surprised look on your partner’s face before she responded, “No, I am not old Red Riding Hood. [Y/N]’s mother made my costume. Said something about a goddess…?”

    Just as you were coming around the corner with your bowl, Wanda trailed off and leaned in your direction for confirmation. You had to force yourself not to stare at the simple but delicious costume she wore, the form-fitting red unitard and pink leggings, for the sake of the other company in the room. Instead, you walked over and slipped an arm around her hips underneath the cape and gave her a nod. “Aphrodite, specifically. She was so excited to hear about my girlfriend that she just couldn’t help herself. Gorgeous and powerful costume for a gorgeous and powerful woman, yeah?” You paused to give Wanda’s shoulder a smooch and waggle your brows at her, much to the twins’ and Pietro’s grossed-out dismay, before you adjusted Wanda’s headpiece and continued, “This rendition of Aphrodite, I think, is actually from a drawing I did of her as a kid, because yes, I was never not a nerd. Mom was so focused on you that she practically forgot about me.”

    You knew that for the most part, the story wasn’t true. You knew that beyond the barrier of Westview, your mother was in so state to do such work, nor could she remember you if she wanted to, but something was unnaturally comforting about putting that aside for the time being.

    “Wow,” Pietro started, his tone unimpressed, “That is so…”

    “Rad!” Tommy exclaimed with a grin.

    “…lame.”

    “Lame.”

    Wanda huffed a bit.

    “If it means anything,” you said, pecking Wanda’s cheek, “I think it’s quite well-made.”

    Hidden from view behind her cape, you gave her hip a light pinch. That earned you a light slap on the wrist and a look that was equal parts warning and teasing.

    Pietro made a gagging noise. “I think it’s worse than the costumes Mom made us the year we got typhus.”

    You quirked a brow in Wanda’s direction but as Tommy had done earlier, she tilted her head and stared off into nowhere as she presumably thought back on the subject. Then she squinted and shook her head as she said, “That’s not exactly how I remember it.”

    Pietro nodded in understanding. “You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma.”

    Well, that was entirely out of left field. You tucked that away in the growing mental file titled “Why New Pietro is Weird.”

    Tommy, Billy, and Pietro then broke off into their own conversation. Tommy and Billy went to sit on the couch and eat their food and Pietro went to go get something of his own, while you and Wanda moved out of the way of the stairs.

    You took a slice of fruit and popped it into your mouth, then offered her one. She took off one of her long, red gloves and happily took it.

    “You do look just… very attractive in that costume of yours,” you said in a low voice after you finished your fruit.

    “Is that so?” Wanda gave you another flirty look and casually shimmied her bare shoulders at you and scooting a bit closer. “I can’t wait to see what both of my partners have in store for me.”

    You winced slightly but tried to cover it up with a questioning look and a tease. “Was that��? Is that—? Is this flirting, Mrs. Maximoff?” 

    You couldn’t get anything past her. 

“What was that look?” she said, then gasped. “No. [Y/N] [L/N], fashionista, lover of all things bright and colorful and weird, doesn’t have a Halloween costume?”

You glance away, embarrassed. “I’ve just been so busy with moving and getting my house on the market, and it’s been hectic here at home… I forgot! Oh, speaking of which—” You raised your voice a bit. “Billy, costume suggestion?”

“A wizard!” Billy chirped from his place on the couch where he and Tommy were now setting up a video game.

“A ninja!” Tommy suggested.

“A spy!” Pietro hollered as he walked back out of the kitchen with a bowl in hand, which he should in your direction. “By the way, sibling-in-law, mind super-sizing this?”

You scowled at him. “I very much do mind and that’s not at all how my power works, thanks.”

Tommy paused what he was doing on the couch and mumbled, “That would have been such a good idea…”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to Wanda with raised hands and a curious look as the boys settled in to their own world again. “Thoughts? Three ideas, right there.”

Wanda hummed thoughtfully and slowly looked you over. The way her eyes traveled down your body made you shiver.

“Or,” you said quieter, setting down your now-empty bowl on the table behind you and slinked your arms around Wanda’s waist, “I could just be a devotee that is very invested in their work with their goddess, who does their absolute best to follow Aphrodite’s wishes…” You paused and waggled your head a bit as you thought. “Or, you know, a scientist or something.”

Wanda hummed and her hands absentmindedly explored your chest. Before you could focus too much on the way heat followed the path of her fingers, she suddenly perked up and pulled them away to clap once and then waggle her pointer fingers at you. “I know!”

“Oh?” Even as you said it, you felt Wanda’s magic take effect on your current casual work outfit. While the magic wasn’t affecting your body at all, you could feel the tickling of magic and fabric twisting and brushing against your skin. 

As you watched, your outdoor clothes transformed into a costume. The sleeves of the simple and somewhat dirtied T-shirt you wore twisted down the length of your arms until they ended at cuffs that were adjustable via silver buttons. The color of the shirt darkened and changed and became red and honey yellow plaid, and a line of usable silver buttons erupted down the center of the shirt’s front; the collar of the shirt flared and stretched into a folded collar of a button-up dress shirt. Not only did your shirt change but another layer appeared on top of it, this being a suede black and white dappled vest whose pattern looked like it was trying to mimic a cow while also trying to avoid infringing on said cow’s copyright. You felt a light pressure around your throat, then something bump against the base of your neck, and upon further investigation, you found a red handkerchief tied around your neck and a dark russet cowboy hat hanging from a leather tie. Your long shorts lengthened and changed color and material into denim jeans, accompanied by a thick leather belt with a large buckle, conveniently accented with a swirling design that involved a W and a V, and two gun holsters that were occupied by plastic versions of the weapon. Finally, on your feet appeared brown cowboy boots with golden spurs to match a golden, comically fake sheriff’s star pinned to your chest. 

A couple of thoughts popped into your head as you examined your outfit. First, you couldn’t help but make the connection between the specific shades of red and yellow used on your outfit and the same shades that your partners’ powers took on, plus the WV brand attached to your waist; it was enough to make you snicker. The other thought was how familiar the costume looked, despite mild design changes.

“Am I a knockoff Woody from Toy Story?”

Wanda blinked. “Not… my intention but we did take the boys to see it a couple of weeks ago, so.” She shrugged, then brightened again. “What do you think, Sheriff?”

You leaned back on your heels and rested your hands on your belt—then snorted at how you easily fit into standing like someone out of an old Western movie. Narrowing your eyes at her you said, “Why?”

“It’s fun,” Wanda stated simply, then added, “and colorful. And…” She stepped closer and toyed with the hem of your vest. With a lowered voice, “… I like the cowboy look.”

You forced the smirk pulling at your lips to keep at bay, instead squinting at Wanda and waving your hands around generally. “Is this— Is this your thing? Is Halloween what does it for you?”

Wanda turned her head away as she laughed out loud, which may have brought attention to the two of you if Tommy, Billy, and Pietro weren’t too busy hollering over their game.

“I’m just curious,” you carried on. “It’s fine, I just need to know! For future consideration. Depending on what the preference is, I might just have to put on a little Rocky Horror Picture Show— which isn’t exactly Halloween but you know what I mean.”

Wanda continued to snicker and lightly swatted your chest. Her gaze drifted to look past your shoulder and almost at the same time, you picked up the sound of footsteps making their way downstairs; the last member of your household was finally arriving.

“Now what is going on here?” Vision’s chipper British voice was music to your ears as he made it to the ground floor.

You and Wanda shifted your attention to him—and you immediately started laughing. Vision’s green bodysuit paired with a golden cape and wrestling shorts, and the lopsided paper gem stuck to his forehead to cover his real one, was just too much. 

“What?” Vision said, sounding offended, as you had to lean against the table behind you while continuing to cackle. While you looked at him through teary eyes, he put on his best fighting face and threw up his fists to make a few boxing motions. “You think it’s smart to laugh at a world-famous wrestler? I’ll show you!”

You continued to snicker but forced yourself to settle. Wiping your eyes, you quipped back, “We’ll fight and then I’ll use my lasso to tie you up, seems fair to me.”

That made Vision, who was still taking a little time to get used to your boldness, freeze.

One of your favorite things about Vision’s awakening, as you liked to call it, was the gradual change in personality that had come with it. Regaining your past and your abilities also brought a great bout of self-confidence. You couldn’t be sure whether this had been your personality pre-Westview or simply a product of finally putting together a lot of the foggy pieces you’d once been missing but either way, you certainly weren’t complaining. You were still awkward and sometimes just a look from either of your partners could make you turn the color of a strawberry but at least you could manage a tease or flirt without immediately cringing in on yourself, and you certainly weren’t afraid to initiate a smooch.

“Behave,” Wanda scoffed in your direction. She gave Vision a comforting pat on the shoulder, which seemed to set him back on track.

“You started it,” you said with a grin, then stepped closer to try to straighten the fake diamond to no avail. “So. Wrestler?”

“Cowboy?” Vision questioned.

“Sheriff, thank you very much.” You tapped on the badge to make a point.

“My apologies.” Vision said in a teasing tone.

“My wrestler and my cowboy,” Wanda said with a pleased smile.

You squinted at her again. “Seriously. Wrestlers too? I’m fascinated.”

Wanda slapped your shoulder.

Three of you must have caused enough ruckus to break up the house’s other trio because then Pietro appeared at your sides.

“Woah!” the silver-haired man said, “Sweet costume, bro-ham-in-law.”

Your nose scrunched up in a mild cringe. Ew, hated that. 

“Let me guess,” Pietro went on, “uh, traffic light.”

Vision sighed. You snorted.

“Half-shucked corn?”

Also a good one.

“A booger!”

And back to ew.

Vision rolled his eyes and gave a begrudging “Yes.”

Pietro fist-pumped the air and danced away in victory.

“By the way,” Wanda said, “thank you for humoring me and wearing this ridiculous get-up, honey.”

“Well, there were no other clothes in my closet, so…” Vision trailed off with a suddenly somber expression, only to break into a teasing smile a moment later. “You are incorrigible, darling. I know you have a secret thing for wrestlers.”

You cackled again as he and Wanda got closer and continued to coo at each other in a way that you found equal parts cute and disgusting. You moved away from them to collect yourself, only to catch their attention.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Wanda said teasingly, “you’ll get your pony-talk too!”

“Please,” you begged with a shaking head and shaking hands, “dear god, no.”

Then Vision waggled his brows at you, hit you with a bad Southern-British combo accent and a pointed “howdy” and you screamed before breaking into laughter yet again. 

Vision laughed with you before turning his attention to the boys, while Wanda walked over with a grin and to help you off the ground. 

“What do you say, boys?” Vision hollered. “Who’s ready for that first hit of high fructose corn syrup?”

The kids and Pietro kept hollering over their video game.

“I hated every second of that,” you said to Wanda as she helped you to your feet. 

Wanda gave you a playful pout, then her smile returned as she straightened the handkerchief tied around your neck. When she was satisfied, she moved the hat from behind your back and onto your head. “You chose this.”

“Mm.” You hummed and nodded while fixing your vest. “I did in fact do that. Lucky me, two for one nerd deal.”

“So, about that Rocky Horror idea…”

You stared at her, bewildered. “What has this day done to you?”

Vision’s attention slowly refocused on you and Wanda as he was getting nowhere with Billy and Tommy, though his eyes still lingered on them and their uncle. “Wanda.”

“Yes, dear?” Wanda chirped, turning her smile to her husband.

“Never told me much about your brother,” Vision said with eyes still trained on the three. “I had no idea he’d be so…” He trailed off as the two boys and one man-child started shotgunning sodas; Vision made a face and gave a thumbs-up as he continued sarcastically, “…great with kids.”

“Yeah,” Wanda replied in a tone that shared his exasperations, “He’s just… full of surprises.”

At this point, you were watching the trio as well. After a pause, you piped up, “I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I think he’s a wonderful role model. Such manners.”

You received the gaze of two pairs of narrowed eyes. You gave them a cheerful smile and quirk of your eyebrows in return.

Vision rolled his eyes and began making his way to the door. “Well, you have fun tonight, darling. [Y/N], will you be joining me later?”

“That’s the plan, beanstalk,” you said. You pinched and tugged the stretchy fabric of his bodysuit and let it snap back into place, earning you a glinting glare.

Then Wanda was following after him, confusion wiping the happy expression off her face. “What? What do you mean? You’re all dressed up and ready to go, where the two of you going?”

Vision stopped faux-boxing your hands away as you continued to try to pick at his outfit to wave his arms around his head. “I’m undercover! Halloween is bacchanal for adolescent trouble-makers and the neighborhood watch is the only thing that stands between the trees and the toilet paper.”

“No,” Wanda said and her eyes blinked rapidly in the way that they did when she was trying to comprehend something that didn’t seem right, “that’s not what you’re supposed to—”

“What?” Vision interrupted in a stern voice, with a pointed look.

“Well…” Wanda crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. Her bewildered eyes darted in your direction just briefly before she turned a scowl on Vision. Lowering her voice a bit, she said, “You didn’t tell me you had plans.”

Vision’s hands rested steadily on his hips and his eyes pointed dull daggers back at her own; it was a stand-off. “Well, I am telling you now.”

I should probably step in, you thought.

“It’s their first Halloween. You have to be there.” Wanda’s gaze turned on you, as did Vision’s in the same moment. “And you too?”

Oh boy. 

Your eyes bounced between your one partner’s gaze and then the other’s before it settled between them, where you could see Billy, Tommy, and Pietro’s gaming session had slowed. Billy was talking into a nonexistent camera and you could pick out enough words that what he was talking about were his mom and dad. Pietro was glancing around like he was supposed to be doing something and he even began to stand and make his way over—before you hit him with a warning glare and mouthed “no” that had him glued back to his couch seat.

“Not to throw shade at Vision,” you offered, stepping closer and directing Wanda and Vision a few steps farther away from the rest of the household, “which I’m not doing, FYI, but I will be around for most of the festivities. A surrogate Vision, if you will.”

Both of their gazes softened a bit and Wanda opened her mouth to start her tri-parent inclusive spiel but you smiled and waved both her and Vision off.

“I know already, I know, I was just teasing. Wanda, my love,” you continued and turned your attention to her as you moved your hand from her shoulder to her own, “Vision is a neighborhood watch member and I do believe that all the dads of the cul-de-sac are taking part in… watching over the neighborhood during Halloween. You know how kids—and crazy uncles—can be. And I’m just trying to offer my help because let’s face it, I still haven’t exactly made the best of impressions like you two have managed to.”

Wanda tilted her head from side to side, no doubt remembering your interactions with Dottie that she was present for or perhaps your horror stories of previous attempts at impressing the watch, before giving a resigned nod.

“So, I’ll be here, Pietro will be here, Vision will be around and just doing his job, and everything is going to be fine and fun and… the bomb— Ew, did not like that, and if I ever say it again, please send me to the gallows or whatever cowboys punish people with.”

“Guns, usually,” Vision mumbled. 

You snickered. “Well, mine are plastic, so my bad, but anyway—”

Wanda huffed a bit gave you a dismissive wave before you could ramble further. “Fine, fine. But you have to promise that we’ll at least spend the night together afterward.”

That last part was directed at Vision, who responded with a nod. Then he cupped a yellow gloved hand around the back of her neck and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Of course, I promise, darling.”

Wanda, still upset, reacted very little but she didn’t stop him. 

Vision straightened up and directed his attention to Tommy and Billy, who were back to loudly playing their game. Making an ominous gesture with his arms as he backed towards the door, he said to them, “You have a spoo-OO-ooky time tonight, kids.” 

“Goodnight, Dad!” Billy hollered, with Tommy saying “Bye, Dad” at the same moment. Neither boy looked away from their TV screen.

“Wanda,” Vision said softly to her, “be good.”

As he passed you, he leaned down to give you a peck as well, but you caught him by the cape and kissed his jaw first. As you pulled back, you grumbled, “Be back, Vis.”

His gaze quickly trailed across your face before he gave you a nod and a kiss on the lips. Then he stepped away—and jumped into a strange, half-pouncing pose and said, “I smell crime,” before shuffling his way out the front door.

“I smell bellyaches in the morning,” you said to no one particular as you shut the door behind him.

Wanda trailed after you, frowning, and her hand lingered on the door.

“Hey.” You took her hand and brought it to your lips to kiss each fingertip as she turned your attention to you. “It’ll be okay.”

Now Wanda’s eyes traced a path across your face before meeting your eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

You replied simply, “I have faith in you and Vision more than I do in anyone else.”

Wanda nodded slowly and took her hand back. She turned around, was greeted by Pietro with a scary face and a bottle of shaving cream in each hand, and screamed. She jumped back against you and you circled your arms protectively around her waist. She scolded her twin, “Don’t do that!”

Pietro snickered. “Where do you keep your water balloons?”

“What?” Wanda’s brows furrowed. “We don’t have water balloons.”

“Where are we gonna put all this shaving cream?” Pietro asked, raising the large cans for her to see. He glanced at you where your chin was resting on Wanda’s shoulder.

You gave him a slight nod, then lightly jutted your chin in the direction of the kitchen. “Backyard,” you mouthed, “Shed.”

Pietro grinned. 

Wanda scoffed and gave your cheek a light swat. “Don’t encourage him!”

You snickered and smooched her cheek.

Tommy walked over with an opened plastic bag in hand; Pietro used this as an excuse. Pointing a finger at the boy, he said, “It was Billy’s idea.”

“I’m Tommy.”

“And I’m heading back to the house,” you added in. You peeled yourself away from Wanda after giving her a couple more teasing kisses, despite Tommy and Pietro’s gagging responses, and continued, “I’m going to try to get a couple more boxes packed, want to be done by the weekend. See you in an hour or so?”

“How dare you leave me with these monsters,” Wanda said goodnaturedly.

You shrugged as you opened the front door and began backing out of it.

“Don’t worry,” you said, then gave your partner a smirk and a wink, “you’re a goddess, after all.”

===

===

===

You were humming casually as you walked down the street. You kept a close eye on Tommy and Billy as they walked slightly ahead of you, chatting about candy, and a familiar tug in your stomach told you that Wanda and Pietro were still walking just behind you.

Suddenly Tommy and Billy ran off. Pietro yelled the mildly concerning encouragement of “Unleash hell, demon spawn!” Wanda let out a worried holler of your name but you were already heading after the boys.

“I got ‘em!” you hollered with a wave over your shoulder. You jogged after them and scooped them into the air from behind, shaking them around as they giggled. Setting them down again, you followed them up to a house, narrowly avoiding other kids and parents. “You’re not supposed to run off, you know.”

“It’s okay,” Billy stated, “Mom will take care of us.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed, “she’s magic!”

You snorted. “That doesn’t mean give her a harder time just because of it.”

The three of you reached the opened door of the house. An older woman dressed as a fairytale queen stood in the doorway, holding a bowl full of candy goodies that she lowered for Tommy and Billy to grab from. You glanced at them to see Tommy shoveling twice as much candy as he should into his bag and rolled your eyes before looking back to the woman. She smiled and said, “Good evening, Sheriff, how’s patrol going?”

You put on your best Southern accent and responded with a tip of your hat, “All’s well, Your Highness. Nothing can get past me and my band of… wizard and lightning bolt.”

Finished with their looting, Tommy and Billy spun around and ran back to their mother and uncle. You gave the woman another hat tip before running after them, chuckling.

“Next house, Mom!” Tommy cried as the three of you reached her and Pietro.

“What am I,” you huffed, “chopped liver?”

“You,” Pietro replied pointedly, “don’t have super speed. Whaddya say, boys? How about you let Uncle P maximize your candy acquisition, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy exclaimed, “kick-ass!”

“Language,” you warned with a tousle of his silver-painted hair. You stepped over to Wanda’s side as Tommy grasped Billy’s hand, then reached out for Pietro’s.

“I feel the need,” Pietro started.

“For speed!” Tommy finished. They grabbed each other’s hand and then the three of them were gone in a silvery blue streak. 

“Kick-ass,” Wanda said. She stared at you incredulously.

“I see the double standard I’m setting,” you stated. “Also, we’re going to regret letting them leave.”

“Probably.” Wanda gave you an empathetic pat on the shoulder, then spotted someone behind you. She made her way around you and walked over to Herb, who wore a fantastic Frankenstein’s Monster costume, and you walked after her. “Oh, hey, Herb.”

“Oh, hey, Wanda, [Y/N],” Herb responded. 

You noticed as you got closer, waving absentmindedly, that he had a wire in his ear, probably set up to communicate with the other neighborhood watch members. You wondered if Vision had thought his cover through and actually told anyone that he was going to help out the watch tonight.

“How’s the patrol going?” Wanda asked. 

“Eh, quiet so far,” Herb replied, only for a crackle to sound in his ear. He asked for the two of you to hang on for a moment, then put a finger to his ear. “Say again. All the candy has disappeared?”

As if on cue, Pietro and the twins went zipping by behind him, leaving no candy in their wake. You and Wanda exchanged nervous glances.

“And now all the jack-o’-lanterns have been smashed,” Herb continued. “And now everyone’s covered in silly string?”

“I said we’d regret it,” you muttered to her.

She anxiously looked about, trying to follow the streak flying up and down the street. “[Y/N], honey, could you maybe…?”

“I’ll get the pumpkins and silly string,” you offered, your powers already beginning to warm your fingertips, “you get the candy?”

“Deal.”

Wanda pretended to fix her hair and used the action to mask a subtle power-conjuring gesture. In response, the insides of bowls and bags being held by the people around you began to glow red as their candy was replenished.

Now that you had a handle on your own abilities, it was easy to manage with no hand movements required. The power itself was fairly simple: you could transform matter from one form to another. It came with a couple of other quirks, like a heightened awareness of certain energies—such as Wanda’s magic or Vision’s overall synthezoid being—and being able to use that awareness to find a person if you focused hard enough and paid attention to the pull in your gut but overall, you didn’t find it particularly special and it was nowhere near as powerful as Wanda’s. You could also drain your powers if you used them too long or focused on them too hard, and had to keep a constant source of energy intake to keep both your body and ability’s energy in check; in other words, you were almost always snacking. 

It was useful in times like these, though, where you had a target object or objects that needed to be covered up. All you had to do was focus—not too little and not too much, you found through trial and error; that was the trickiest part—and let the prickling heat coat your hands, and then thin wisps of black appeared to float around smashed pumpkins or entangle themselves with lines of silly string. Black turned to white as the transformation began to take place—silly string into fake cobwebs, Halloween-themed strings of light, or sinking into peoples’ clothing to become part of the pattern, and pumpkins into sturdier variations of themselves or other Halloween decorations—before white turned to red and then faded altogether.

You’d think at least one person of Westview would notice such feats of glowing magic and decorations appearing before their very eyes but no. The only indication that anything had changed at all was another crackle in Herb’s ear.

“Oh, nice,” Herb said in response to the talking in his ear, “everything seems to be all good now.”

“Huh, weird,” you said as you casually shook off the tingling sensation in your hands, “I wondered what happened.”

“Pranks, probably,” Wanda suggested after clearing her throat and dropping her hands. “Of course, the watch probably handled it. I’m sure Vision had a hand in it.”

“Vision?” Herb questioned. “Oh, he’s not on duty.”

Nice job, Vis.

“Oh,” Wanda said, “I… I thought…”

“Is there something I can do for you, Wanda?” Herb asked, suddenly staring intently at her. “Do you want something changed?” 

Wanda became visibly uncomfortable and she chuckled nervously. “No. It’s fine. Nevermind.”

You eyed Herb; his eyes weren’t quite glassy but they stared with an emptiness that made your intestines twist before they snapped back to normal when Wanda indicated that everything was fine. You placed a supporting hand on Wanda’s back and slowly ushered her away as Herb smiled, waved, and walked off down the street.

“Strange,” Wanda said with a few rapid blinks.

“Very.” you agreed as the two of you walked on. “Are you okay?”

Wanda blinked once more, then stopped walking. “Did Vision lie to me?”

You slowed and turned to face her before stopping altogether. “Well, he’s technically doing his job.”

Wanda stared at you. “Do you know where he is? What he’s doing?”

You winced, then shook your head. “I don’t. I’m sorry. I told him that he should talk to you and he must have decided he didn’t want to ‘get me in trouble’ or something.”

Wanda frowned and mumbled, “What is wrong with us…?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried again as you anxiously toyed with the hem of your short vest, “I want to help.”

Wanda sighed and gave you a small, sad smile. “You tried.”

===

===

===

Later that night, while you and Wanda were back walking with the group, Tommy found himself to have developed super-speed like Pietro because of course, he had. As you’d done for most of the day, you tasked yourself with watching over the kids while Wanda used her time to catch up with her estranged brother. This time, you were watching Tommy zip Billy and himself around to test out his new ability while Wanda and Pietro wandered a little further down the street. Now that Tommy had an energy similar to that of his parents, even if you couldn’t see him, you could hone in on him and follow a familiar pull.

You were leaning against the side of the local cinema, which was currently showing The Incredibles—Westview had apparently shifted decades again—and attempting to make a mental map of Tommy’s speedy travels while using the compass-like pull when the pull suddenly yanked your attention upward. Your eyes shot open as you sought out the call of your attention and against the starless night sky, you could see a pinprick of familiar golden light hovering over a floating silhouette.

You glanced over to Wanda and Pietro, who were deep in conversation. Then a flash of silver light zipped across your field of vision; you stopped Tommy and Billy by turning a section of the street in their path to wet cement.

“Hey, no fair!” Tommy whined.

“My costume…” Billy mumbled sadly.

You tugged them out of the wet cement, turned it back to asphalt, and transformed the mess on their shoes and pants into grass clippings that could easily be brushed off. After doing so, you straightened up and took the toy guns out of your holsters. You thought about turning them into squirt guns and setting the twins loose, then decided that wouldn’t make you any better than Pietro and settled for transforming them into massive chocolate bars instead. You held them out to the twins.

“Take these,” you said, “and be on your best behavior for the rest of the night. Go with your mom and Pietro to the movie showing. Tell them I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

Tommy eyed the chocolate skeptically before shrugging and taking it anyway. “Where are you going?”

“To make sure Vision gets home on time,” you replied. Tommy shrugged again and walked off, and you started to turn away when you felt a little hand grasp your wrist and the slight spark of magical energy that came with it. You looked down to see Billy staring up at you with wide eyes.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” he asked softly. “Mom and Dad?”

You took his hand and squeezed it. “Of course, hon’. If anyone can make something work, they can.”

Billy stared for a little longer before nodding. He squeezed your hand back, then dropped it. “Stay safe.”

“That’s the plan.”

===

===

===

You were following your inner compass to Vision, who was no longer flying overhead when you began feeling the weird sensation of something non-physical trying to clamber inside your head. You were tempted to try to block yourself from whatever it was trying to reach you but it didn’t feel threatening. Instead, it felt somewhat familiar and it felt scared.

You paused and try to figure out what exactly it was and as you did so, your head filled with radio static, struggling to get in tune. You focused harder, invited whatever was trying to connect with you to do so, and just as the familiarity clicked as Billy, the young boy’s voice rang inside your skull. 

It’s Dad, Billy’s voice said and then the radio static was reappearing. Before it completely overtook him, you could hear, He’s in trouble. 

Just as Billy’s voice and then the radio static disappeared from your head, a section of the barrier shielding Westview from the outside world exploded into view. From your previous experience with going through the barrier yourself, you recognized the warping of the static wall as trying to bend around something trying to leave to prevent it from doing so. 

Burning heat suddenly flared in your palms, strong enough to envelop your entire arms and lick at your shoulders and neck. Then you were running to Vision’s aid, throwing bolts of glowing energy ahead of you to transform obstacles like trees and signs into harmless items that were no longer in your way as you beelined to your partner. While the visible section of the barrier was easy enough to follow, it didn’t tell you anything about the condition of the person it was fighting against. Instead, the normally steady pang that was now quickly shattering and fading told you Vision was not just in danger but dying, and fast. You attempted to quicken your pace further. 

    By the time you reached the edge of Westview, you felt sweaty and exhausted, and the numbness of falling asleep limbs was setting into your hands and arms; you’d overused your abilities. Still, when you saw that Vision was nowhere to be seen, meaning he’d managed to make it through the barrier, you pushed forward and started forcing your way through it as well. Although your powers were weak from overuse and nothing compared to Wanda’s they did help make the passage somewhat easier. Just before you broke through to the other side, you felt what could only be described as the magic version of the pullback of a wave before a tsunami was about to hit.

    Then you were collapsing on the other side of the barrier. It was hell there—a high-tech military base was set up, trucks and soldiers were swarming around, a woman was being handcuffed to one truck by a familiar man—but all you could focus on was the body of your dying lover laying on the ground barely a foot ahead of you, pieces of him tearing from his body and flying backward to be absorbed by the energy field just behind you. You felt yourself choke out a sob from seeing him in such a state and forced yourself to crawl one inch, then two inches, then three inches forward until you could wrap a weak hand around his ankle and attempt to feed what little bit of energy that you had left into him. You drained yourself little by little of everything you had left until dark spots appeared in your eyesight and you didn’t have enough strength to lift your head or keep a tight hold on Vision’s ankle.

    You were about to pass out when Wanda’s magic hit crashed into you like a wave and traveled outward. Then everything went black. 

[lampmeeting]

D for Charles/Magnus, I for Magnus/Toki, L for Charles/Pickles, and F for Melm/JT.

eeehEHEHEHE DILF *rubs my little hands together* don't mind if i do~

D for Drunken Love Confession - Charles/Magnus

pre-klok. :') magnus has been chipping away at charles' resolve. there's just something about the bookish, put-together little chuck offdensen that makes magnus wanna break through all his defenses and see him come undone. he always did like a challenge. they have heated, passionate debates about the direction of the band. they get in each other's faces. magnus even kissed him once, but charles pushed him away, furious and blushing, and demanded he leave his office.

after six months of this weirdly charged back-and-forth they have, the band invites charles to come drinking with them to celebrate pickles' birthday. charles declines, concerned they're just inviting him to come because they want someone else to play designated driver. but magnus intervenes like "nah i'm driving tonight, promise. so go nuts." and charles seems to think it over... and eventually agrees.

so they all go out! at first charles seems to be pacing himself, but pickles gets shots, and it's all downhill from there. magnus, staying dutifully sober, watches the rest of the band + charles get sloppy and silly, not minding in the slightest the way charles leans against him a little in the booth and touches him when he laughs. he starts to regret not getting drunk himself, but he'd promised charles. it's enough just to see charles' mask slip, albeit not quite in the way magnus wanted. but he'll take it for now.

at the end of the night, magnus drops the band off at the apartment and then continues on to charles' place. he pulls up, and charles tries to get out of the car, but stumbles and falls. he's a lot more fucked up than magnus suspected. magnus helps him to the door, but charles seriously looks like he's about to black out, so he takes him inside, cleans him up a little, and puts him to bed (on his side, in the recovery position, he knows the drill). before he leaves, he can't help himself... he runs fingers through charles' sweaty hair and strokes his jaw. charles opens his eyes, seeming surprised that magnus is still there, and then... he smiles at him. a genuine smile. and as his eyes close again, he whispers something that freezes magnus in place.

"...mmfm...mmlove you..."

"...what?"

but charles is under again, and magnus leaves in a panic. charles doesn't, can't, have feeling for him. that's too much. magnus just wanted some fun, right? maybe get charles worked up enough for an angry fuck. but...love?

magnus can't sleep. the next time magnus sees charles, charles pulls him aside. "i apologize that you had to babysit me like that the other night. i can't exactly recall everything that happened, so if i said or did anything, ah...embarrassing, i'm very sorry."

so charles doesn't remember what he said. or he does and he's just trying to save face. magnus should be relieved about this, but for some reason his heart feels suddenly sore...

"oh, yeah, no...you were out like a light. don't worry about it."

--

I for "Idiots in Love" - Toki/Magnus

post-post-galaktikon. weirdly enough i'd probably write this from like nathan's pov or something. he's having everyone over to the house for some reason, maybe a holiday or his daughter's first birthday or something (her cool uncles wouldn't dream of missing it). this means..... rrugghhgh magnus is coming over. it's the first time he's interacted with magnus since pickles and charles' wedding, so maybe a good couple years, and he's not looking forward to it.

everyone arrives. toki and magnus are the last to show up, and nathan has to do a double-take because this is SO not magnus. half his hair is back in a ponytail, he's let his beard grow in some, and he's wearing a sweater?? and he's smiling? he genuinely seems happy to see nathan, gives him a hug, says a warm hello to abby.

over the course of the afternoon nathan has to keep looking at him and reminding himself that's magnus fucking hammersmith because he's just so... animated? friendly? he's sitting next to toki and they're holding hands, and when others are talking the two of them are making eyes at each other and cuddling and laughing at little things they seem to be sharing between themselves. they're being a couple of absolute goofballs together, and honestly it's a bit sickening to watch. is magnus just faking this?

at some point nathan excuses himself to the kitchen for something, and while he's in there he's joined by magnus, considerably more subdued.

"sorry, man, i just...i thought maybe we could talk for a sec."

so they talk. they catch up a little. nathan learns magnus has been hitting the therapy especially hard over the past year, making some meaningful strides. it's not an act, he's genuinely happier now. or at least trying to be.

"i mean, you know how it is, nate, right? doesn't abby make you wanna be better just because she exists and she loves you?"

okay, nathan can understand that. he still doesn't understand... them. but it really seems like magnus has turned a corner, which... good for him, he supposes. as long as he's treating toki well.

when they return to the party, nathan watches magnus sit back down with toki and give him a kiss like he'd been gone all month, and they giggle to themselves again. this time, it seems...all right.

--

L for "Love at First Sight" - Charles/Pickles

i'm gonna flip the script here!! i've already done the whole "charles sees pickles on stage and goes gaga for him" twice now... so i'd pull away from the 80s and do a fic where they actually did meet for the first time in the mid-90s when pickles was in dethklok.

so they've got their shitty original manager (the one from doomstar) still, and he's just not pulling his weight. he's managing a few other bands and his heart isn't in dethklok the way it used to be. pickles is worried they're stagnating, and when he learns that it's been magnus lately making sure they get booked, that's the last straw. they all come together, and they tell the dude to fuck off. but then this leaves them without a manager. magnus offers, but pickles has already been wary about how possessive magnus seems about the band recently, so when pickles says no the rest of them vote the same.

pickles blows through his old contacts looking to dig up some manager from his past who can either wants to manage dethklok or has connections to someone else. no dice. skwisgaar comes up with no one. magnus is still trying to campaign for himself. shit gets dire when somehow seth finds out dethklok is lacking management and leaves pickles a voicemail offering his "valuable fuckin' services". pickles blows his fucking top, swearing and screaming. "HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND ONE GUY CAPABLE OF MANAGING A FUCKIN' BAND??"

the doorbell rings, and pickles, still raging, throws it open.

"WHAT??"

"ahh!"

it's just... a dude. like a normal-ass dude. glasses. a nice dress shirt and slacks. nice hair. handsome. he's nervous as shit, but that almost makes him more handsome.

"i, ah...i-i was told that van on the street belongs to, ah...to someone here? i clipped the, ah, the bumper. just a little. but it's noticeable."

anger forgotten, pickles just... stares at him. are his eyes green or brown? and that jawline...

the man shifts his weight just a bit, peeking into the apartment with wide, curious eyes. "sorry, that, ah... that's quite the drum kit."

"huh?" pickles looks back at it and steps inside, and the man follows as if he's simply meant to be there. "oh, yeah, thanks. you play?"

"hardly. a small jazz kit in college for a friend's music project but it, ah, obviously didn't go anywhere." the man glances around and seems to realize that he's just waltzed inside. "right, ah, so about the van--" he pulls out his card. charles f. offdensen of finch & associates. an honest-to-god lawyer. huh. so he's a smart guy. good-looking to boot. knows a bit about music, apparently. and he's looking to make things right about hitting the van...

pickles smiles, hearts in his eyes. "ya like metal, charlie?"

--

F for "Fake Dating" - Melmord/Twinkletits

aaahahah... okay. so, this would be when melm is living with john as part of his continued therapy. a few months pass, and they've actually become good friends, melm thinks, not just therapist and patient. it's nice living there with john.

and then, john gets a call from his ex-wife, joy. she's in town, and she wants to come over for dinner one night before she leaves. the only thing is, she's got her new fiance in tow. she and john ended on pretty mutual terms, so there's really no bitterness there, but even so, john knows it's going to be an unpleasant evening. and then there's the question of what to do about melmord.

"you can just stuff me in a back room and pretend i don't exist. i'll be real quiet."

"absolutely not, you've been watching too many sitcoms."

"excuse you, that's jane eyre."

john just doesn't exactly know how to approach explaining melmord's presence in the house. because he knows joy, and joy will ask.

"tell her i'm a friend who needed a place to crash?"

"joy knows i don't do friends anymore."

ouch go melm's feelings.

"well, uh... you could just tell her the truth? that i'm your patient and i live with you?"

john pulls a face. "absolutely not."

in a flash of sitcom inspiration, melm snaps his fingers. "i got it! i'm your boyfriend! we'll pretend to date!"

"pretend to--?? mel, honey, no. okay? i understand you're trying to help, but--"

"but what? what's your brilliant idea, doc?"

cut to john introducing melmord to his ex-wife.

"and this is my... well, he's uh, my boyfriend actually. my boyfriend melmord."

melm is all smiles as he leans in and takes joy's hand. "please, just call me mel."

and then of course at the end of a long night, joy and her fiance leave, and john and melm pat each other on the back for a job well done. they really gave it their all, put on a convincing performance full of long embraces and doting glances and romantic touches. neither of them really want to talk about how easily it came to them, and how unwilling they both are to bring it to an end.

"well, uhh... good night, then." john chuckles. "darling."

"yeah, haha, sleep good, uh... sugarbear."

they laugh. they're standing in the hall laughing. they should really move apart from each other and go to their respective rooms if they're going to sleep, but they're not moving. and they're still laughing. and now melmord is touching john's shirt, fingering a button, and john has a hand on melm's hip...

"maybe," melm says quietly, "we can just pretend for, like... a little longer?"

[starrynite7114]

Headcanon: Art Day

A/N: A headacanon! This idea was given to me by @carlaangel86​ and @justahopelessssromantic​ . We were watching some Tiktoks and well, here it is. Hope you all enjoy this update!

Laughter and Snapshots will be posted next!

Hope you guys had a good week!

Masterlist

Request tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic​ : @ifoundmyhappythought​ : @carlaangel86​ : @woahitslucyylu​ : @encounterthepast​ : @enamoured-x​ : @thewarriorprincessxo​ : @briana-mishell24​ : @bribri-82​ : @chibsytelford​ : @agirllovespasta​ : @twistnet​ : @everyhowlmarksthedead​ : @trulysuccubus​ : @jadert15​ : @sammskellington​ : @cind-in-real-life​ :  @claytoncardenasbabymama​ : @sadeyesgf​ : @thickemadame​ : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass​ : @gemini0410​ : @elcococruz​ : @samcrobae​ : @sesamepancakes​​ : @iambabyharry​ : @blackmissfrizzle​ : @soamayansfangirl​ : @1-800-imagines​​ : @phoenixhalliwell​​ : @lady-pswrld​​ : @dazzledamazon​​  : @getyourcrayoncas​​ : @fvckthisbxtchup​​ : @lukealvxz​​ : @scuzmunkie​​ : @lilac-tea-time​​ : @danie1432​​ : @cocotheclown​​ : @soaronmywings​​ : @my-rosegold-soul​​ : @buttercup812​​ : @itskiranbitch​​ : @angelreyesgirl​​ : @sheeshgivemeabreak​​ : @vicmackeybullshxt​​ : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​​ : @khyharah​​ : @strawberrywritings​​ : @cherry-icetea​​ : @fuzzy-jellyfish​​ : @losolvidad0s​​ : @brownsugarcoffy​​ : @courtrae89​​ : @prdsdjarin​​ : @blessedboo​​ : @marvelmaree​​ : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​​ : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ : @thesandbeneathmytoes​​ : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind​​ : @maddie-georges​​ : 

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

You and Angel have had a good quarantine so far.

Meaning you two didn’t kill one another and actually enjoyed one another’s company. 

Maybe the reason you two have yet to kill one another was due to the fact Angel locking himself in the third bedroom in your house, painting. 

Which you two recently purchased at the end of last year and now, you two were able to renovate as you two had planned. 

With the quarantine, your days were spent either painting a room, placing the hardwood floors in the kitchen and living room, or changing the cabinets in the kitchen. 

Overall, it’s been a productive first two months of quarantine

Now, the Santo Padre head was seeping in and you were not a happy camper. 

Though, another reason quarantine didn’t make you two hate one another, was because you and Angel love being in each other’s company. 

You two appreciated the days you two have together since you were always at work and he was always on a run. 

Living apart the first three, living together the last three, six years together in total, you and Angel knew how to avoid killing one another. 

Also, it helped that you were a respiratory therapist and worked almost six days a week. They tried to push you for more hours, but there was so much your body could take. 

Now, after being on for six, you were off for four. 

On your first day, you were nursing a margarite that Angel made for you while you watched a 90s Romcom on Netflix while he was in his art room.

You loved coming in Angel’s art room since his masterpieces gave you glimpses of how he was feeling.

When the whole thing with EZ went down? Everything was dark, upsetting, but you knew he had to let it out. 

It lasted for a few months, but eventually the colors came back. 

You didn’t know how to help him, you knew Angel was hurting then, but the best thing to do for him was to be here and you were. 

Angel never changed towards you, he was always silly, loving, and your Angel. 

But you knew he missed his family as well.

Your glad EZ manned up and spoke to Angel. 

You were in your room, waiting for glasses to break, but you didn’t hear anything. When you came out after EZ left, Angel held you, sleeping on the couch that night. 

And you also loved the artwork you inspired for Angel. 

It always made you smile shyly at him when he would tell you about the artwork you inspired him to do.

They were vibrant, so full of life. They varied as well.

Some were sketches of you that you knew he was doing since he asked you to model for him.

Others were candid sketches he took of you. Some of them you don’t even remember him doing since there was no sketchbook in his hand then.

“It’s from memory baby, EZ isn’t the only one with photographic memory. Though, you’re the most prominent image in my mind, it isn’t hard.”

You would blush and kiss him. 

Angel was too sweet for his own good. 

He didn’t draw often since the club took him away often.

So when he could, he dedicated a day for his artwork

And today was that day. 

While you enjoyed your margarita, Angel was enjoying his beer in his room. 

You wanted to take a peek since he’s been in there since eight this morning and it was already one in the afternoon. 

You figured you should think of making lunch soon, but you weren’t hungry since you and Angel had a big breakfast. 

“Babe!” You called out to Angel who left his door slightly ajar in case you needed him. 

“Yeah?” He answered.

“You hungry?”

There was no response and just as you were about to get up, you felt Angel hold your shoulders down and kiss you. 

“Jesus Christ Angel!” You placed your hand on your chest. 

He sat down next to you, your shirt was now dirty with the paint he was using. 

“Babe, you got my shirt dirty.” You pouted, not really caring, but you loved to give Angel flack every once in a while.

“You mean my shirt?” He teased.

“We’re partners, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.” You paused. “Except for the GT, that’s all mine.”

Angel laughed. “I swear, you love that car more than me.”

“No, of course not,” you looked at him. “Maybe just a little bit, but you’re still the number person to me.” 

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay.” He looked at what you were watching before taking a sip of your margarita. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really, but I know you’re a bottomless pit.” 

“I’m not that hungry yet, we can swing by Pop’s store and get a few steaks.”

“We do need some meat, we might as well stock up so we don’t have to go out again.”

“Great idea.” Angel kissed your cheek. “But, before we go, can we do something real quick?”

“Sure.” 

He took your hand and pulled you up. You two made your way towards his art room where there was a plastic table at the center and a LunaBean in the middle. You looked over at Angel who smiled at you.

“Oh god, are you sculpting me again?” 

Angel chuckled. “No, and you literally we’re not complaining the two times we did.”

“Angel, we ended up fucking both times.”

“Like I said, no complaints.”

You laughed. 

You stopped in front of the table, Angel letting go of your hand so he could stand across from you. 

Looking inside the bucket, your nose scrunched up at the mixture below. You weren’t sure what the material was, but it was light pink in color. 

“Um, I’m not sure I want to know what we’re going to do.” You eyed him suspiciously.

Angel chuckled. “Come mi corazon, you trust me?” 

“Um, that’s a hit or miss.” You stuck out your tongue playfully. “Alright, I do, what are we doing baby?”

You love being a part of Angel’s art process. It wasn’t rare you were able to do it, but you were glad you could do it now. 

“Give me your hand.” You gave him your left hand, his right hand intertwining with yours. He dipped your hands inside the bucket till it was on the bottom. “Stay still.” He instructed you.

For five minutes, you and Angel remained still, Angel watching your hands, while you watched him. He was a perfectionist with his art. Everything else, he was laid back, but when it came to art, he was a perfectionist. 

He pulled your hands out, wiping your hands, he handed the cloth to you so he could pour the casting stone mix inside. Once he filled it, he placed the second bucket down and smiled at you.

“Let’s go.”

“Is that supposed to create a mold?”

“Maybe, you kind of moved, so you might have fucked it up.” He teased. 

“You’re so lucky I love you.” 

You two went to Carniceria Reyes, and kept your social distancing as instructed along with your mask. You missed Felipe and the stories he told you about Angel.

How much of a pain of the ass Angel was, but how he was such a sweet kid who always looked out of his younger brother. 

He also told you how much Angel loved drawing more than he did sports, but Angel also liked popularity and art wouldn’t win girls over.

EZ was at the store helping their father as well. 

It’s been a rough year between EZ and Angel, but you were glad that things were better.

“So, am I getting a quarantine niece or nephew?” EZ called out before you two exited the story.

You blushed while Angel just laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

When you two arrived home, Angel put the groceries you two decided to get since you two were out anyway. 

You sat back down on the couch, resuming your movie.

Angel eventually joined you and soon, you two fell asleep. 

Angel woke up first, watching you as you slept. His favorite sketches of you were of ones while you were sleeping. You looked so peaceful and carefree. 

He carefully maneuvered you, so he could lay your head on the pillow. 

Once he was certain you wouldn’t wake up, he took his sketchbook, sat on the armchair and began to sketch you. 

A few hours later, you woke up to Angel banging around the kitchen. 

“Babe, if you were trying to wake me up, you’ve succeeded.”

“Good, dinner is ready.”

Angel was a tremendous cook and one of the things you two picked up whenever you were off work was cooking together. It was definitely fun. 

And you may or may not have started painting with Angel, though, he was a strict teacher, sort of. 

You two always ended up naked. 

After dinner, you washed the dishes as Angel busied himself in his art room again. 

His art ventures were usually an all day thing, so you were surprised you two even went out.

But with quarantine, he had more opportunity to work on his art. 

He always told you, art was a process, so you never went inside his room unless there was an emergency.

When you were done, you sat back on the couch and browsed through your phone, seeing what you missed in the social media world while you were asleep. 

“Mi dulce, can you come over here?” You heard Angel call for you.

“Sure babe.” 

You entered the room and found Angel standing beside the plastic table. You joined him, looking down at the molding of your hands together. 

“Babe, this looks amazing.” You studied the molding. Your hands were perfectly intertwined, the details were absolutely amazing. 

You then noticed there was a sketching of you in front of it. Curiously, you picked it up.

You took in the details, always in awe of Angel’s work. 

You loved it when he shared his work with you whenever he finished.

Self-esteem issues were a bitch, but every time you saw a piece Angel did of you, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Turning it over, there was a note behind it. 

‘Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of our meeting at the carniceria years ago. How you gave me that shy smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, thanking me for the suggestions I made. I began to look forward to your visits, trying to work at my pops’ shop as often as I could just so I could get a glimpse of you. After our first date, I knew this was it for me, which was fucking insane. These past six years have been the happiest I’ve been since my mother passed away. I’m not really certain what I did to deserve your presence, but I’m thankful every day. We’ve had our ups and down, but this quarantine made me realize that you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, especially since you haven’t killed me. I love you, mi vida, mi alma, mi sol, mi todo, will you marry me?’

You looked over at Angel, and he was on his knee, a black velvet box in his hand. 

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” He asked, the nervousness clearly evident on his face. 

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

Angel stood up, picked you up and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling away so you could bury your face on the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t believe it, it was finally happening. Angel proposed to you. 

Placing you back down on the floor, you smiled up at him, looking back down at your left hand. 

“Fuck, babe, I can’t believe it.” 

“You better, because once this quarantine is done, we’re getting married.”

You laughed.

“Guess we gotta make a new molding once we’re married.” 

“No babe, this can be our memorabilia of the day we got engaged.” 

Angel took one of his thin brushes, writing the date on your hand molding. 

“This is the beginning of our forever.”

Angel smiled. “It’s been us since the first day we met at the carniceria.” He softly began kissing your neck, making you moan. “What do you say we end this day like how we always do during art days?”

You two always ended Angel’s art days with sex. 

You never asked questions, you were a willing participant.

And you were a willing participant again. 

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (5/8)

If you’d like to read on AO3, you may do so here.

October 15, 2018

The leaves were beginning to change outside the window; the maples turning russet, the birch yellow. Scully felt pendulous and gravid, the child in her belly more active than her previous two combined. Sleep was becoming difficult, but by day they’d fallen into a comfortable routine, safe and unmolested from the dangers that were beginning to feel as though they had never existed at all.

She stretched and left Mulder, half his face obscured by his pillow, his lips soft and pliant in sleep. A fresh pot of decaf awaited her in the kitchen, its automatic timer set by Mulder late last night.

The kids were still asleep, as far as she could tell -- she'd heard Lily come home well after midnight. She'd been up reading anyway when her daughter had popped her head into their bedroom door and whispered "I'm home." The girl had been wearing a small smile and Scully recognized the look. Lily was falling in love.

Will shuffled into the kitchen sleepily, a palm rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He approached Scully where she stood at the counter and put an arm around her shoulder, leaning on her. He still smelled like the sleepy little boy who liked to cuddle into her side to watch nature shows when he was six.

"Morning Mom," he said, taking a snuffly breath. He leaned down and rested his cheek against her head (he was almost as tall as Mulder, though still as skinny as a maypole). Scully wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him in closer. Affection from her kids was getting fewer and farther between now that they were active teenagers. She was determined to enjoy whatever she got.

"Morning," she said, giving his back a little rub, "you're up early."

"Yeah," he said on a yawn. "There's an open rink this morning and a couple of buddies are going. Is it okay if I join them?"

Scully nodded. "Just make sure you tell your dad, too. Know the exits before you go and keep an eye on the crowd."

Will squeezed her once and then let go, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter and holding up like James Bond. "Call me Double O Billy," he said and sidled back to his room off of Scully's bemused chuckle.

She spent an hour catching up on email that had been routed through the Gunmen and Darlene -- coded messages that they interpreted and sent to her mother, sister and brothers. Melissa was giving her a hard time about not letting her fly to Europe (where she thought they were) to be her doula when the time came to give birth. She was tempted to send Byers to her sister's house to explain exactly what was happening, but rejected the impulse. Their mother -- the only person other than the Gunmen and the X-Files triumvirate at the FBI who knew their situation (though not their location for her own protection) -- would talk her down eventually.

Mulder came padding up behind her as she closed the laptop and she felt a soft, drawn-out kiss on the side of her neck.

"Morning," he mumbled into her skin.

She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, then turned to receive his kiss.

"Morning," she said.

"I’ll be back shortly. I'm going to drop Billy off at the ice complex and then take Lil to campus -- she suddenly started liking football."

"I think it's the company rather than the sport," Scully said, turning in her chair to face him.

"...I'm going to choose to believe my version," he said.

Scully reached out and linked their fingers briefly. "Tell her to be careful," she said, "she's spending a lot of time out of the house."

Mulder nodded and squeezed her fingers. "I will," he said, "and when I get back, I have a few ideas for how we can spend our child-free afternoon." He waggled his eyebrows at her and let go, backing out of the room like the charmer he was.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“So why UVA?” Travis asked her. He had his head propped up on an elbow and his other hand was wrapped loosely around her foot, his thumb rubbing circles into her arch. She was on the couch in his dorm room and he was on the floor -- she’d been helping him study for mid-terms. They had been officially dating for five weeks and had seen each other at least every other day in that time. He’d introduced her to a couple of friends as his girlfriend.

“What?” she asked. It was hard enough to concentrate while getting a foot massage, and she’d been staring at the index cards in front of her, trying to find a question that would stump him.

“Why are you going to UVA? Brain like yours, you could have gone anywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever asked you why there.”

“Other than the in-state tuition?” She had told him that they’d moved from Virginia, but hadn’t elaborated.

“Other than that,” he smiled.

“I’ve always wanted to. When I was a kid, my dad would occasionally get called in to consult there and he would take me with him. I kinda fell in love with it.”

“What did your dad consult on?” he asked, “You don’t talk about your parents much.”

Travis tapped her other leg, and she switched feet, silencing a groan when his knuckle hit a particularly sensitive spot.

She had purposely avoided mentioning her family much and debated how much was safe to share.

“UVA has a Department of Perceptual Studies,” she said, and she saw him tilt his head in question.

“A department of what?”

“Perceptual studies,” she said, smiling, “it’s a research group devoted to the investigation of phenomena that challenge mainstream scientific paradigms regarding the nature of the mind/brain relationship.” Travis stopped rubbing her foot and looked at her. She went on, further quoting her dad’s friend Dr. Stevenson: “Their mission is the scientific empirical investigation of phenomena that suggest that currently accepted scientific assumptions and theories about the nature of mind or consciousness, and its relation to matter, may be incomplete.”

“You’re shitting me,” he said.

“I shit you not.”

“What kind of phenomena?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She tried not to smile, “ESP, poltergeists, near-death experiences, out-of-body experiences, claimed memories of past lives.”

“And what did they want with your father?” he asked, sitting up.

She shrugged. “He’s a shrink,” she said, being deliberately vague.

“This is an accredited university?” He teased her. She kicked at him, and he ducked out of the way and laughed, then looked at her thoughtfully. “You know, I myself had an out-of-body experience with Trudy Carmichael under the bleachers when I was sixteen. Pretty sure I saw through time.”

Lily chuckled, then playfully challenged: “Do I need to worry about this Trudy Carmichael?”

“I doubt it,” he said, hanging his head, “I lost my virginity, and she lost my number. Not my finest hour.”

“A whole hour?,” Lily said wryly.

“One way to find out.”

He looked at her then and she looked back. The moment was charged and sat in between them. The truth was, Lily was still a virgin. She and Travis had messed around, but fairly innocently, and she’d demurred on action below the waist/under the clothes. “I’m not waiting for marriage,” she’d told him a few weeks back, but she did want to wait for love. If only she knew what that felt like.

“Hey, Frisbee,” Travis said when she didn’t say anything, “please don’t take this as a negotiation tactic -- you’ve been clear on your limits and I totally respect that -- and with the full understanding that you don’t need a reason, and you do you and all that -- but… do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what exactly?” she asked, clarifying.

“When I say ‘no pressure,’ I mean it,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her foot.

Lily looked around his sloppy dorm room. There were clothes strewn about, though mostly out of the way— socks balled up near the laundry hamper, a sweatshirt hanging on the back of a chair. The wooden loft that held his bed was posted around the couch, made of flimsy-looking two-by-fours, and did not look like it could hold his weight, much less hers in addition, and remained untried (though Travis swore it had passed inspection). His desk was more fastidiously kept, a reflection of his mind, a structured order in the midst of chaos. He was kind and smart. His smile could make her insides go liquid.

“Honestly?” she finally said, “it’s my parents.”

“Super religious?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from laughing. “No, it’s… My parents love each other. More than anyone I’ve ever known. Their love is like… romance film love. It’s practically written in the stars.”

He looked at her contemplatively. “That’s a lot to live up to,” he said. “Is that what it is?”

“Yes,” she said, then, “no.” It was and it wasn’t. She didn’t know if there was a love out there that could compare, she suspected there wasn’t. Her real hang-up, and she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head since she found her father’s first wedding picture in their attic -- was that her father had obviously made a mistake. What if she did too?

She laughed, annoyed at herself. This wasn’t Regency England. Sex didn’t mean marriage. It didn’t even necessarily mean love. Still...

“Come on,” she said, sitting up and grabbing for his class notes, “this bio exam isn’t going to take itself.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

A sound woke her. Her hips were in agony and sleeping was difficult, so initially she was more annoyed than anything; she could rarely line up more than 90 minutes straight of deep slumber. And then she heard it again.

She reached over, squeezed Mulder's bicep until she heard him sniff sharply awake and silently, pulled out the sidearm she kept inside her bedside table. Mulder, slipping out of bed without a word, pulled out his own gun and went to the door. He held up a hand, trying to tell Scully to stay back, but she shook her head angrily -- she would have his back whether he liked it or not.

When he moved into the hallway, she stepped on the back of his heel and he ended up ramming his shoulder into the doorframe. He swore low under his breath. They were out of sync.

She watched as he put his head into the kids rooms as he made his way down the hallway, nodding at her that they were both accounted for. One more thunk from the living room.

He sidled up to the wall that led to the room and backed up against it. He mouthed one-two-three and they went in, but where she usually went low and he went high, this time they rammed shoulders and stumbled into the room. Mulder flicked on the light when she finally had her weapon aimed true.

There, sitting on a high bookshelf sat Apgar, her black tail swishing merrily. Maintaining eye contact, she swiped one more of the professor's knick-knacks off the shelf and onto the floor.

Mulder dropped his weapon and heaved a sigh, tipping his head back in frustration. "Fucking cat," he hissed.

Mission completed, Apgar jumped down with a thump and weaved a figure eight between Mulder's legs.

"She must be hungry," Scully said.

"Hangry was invented by cats," Mulder mumbled, reaching down to pet the cat with his free hand.

"Our tactical coordination was atrocious," Scully said, flicking the light back off and holding her gun at her hip.

"Yes," Mulder agreed.

"When was the last time you went to the range?" she asked.

"It's been months," he said tiredly.

"We're going tomorrow," Scully said. Mulder knew better than to argue.

XxX

There were more than a few Molon Labe bumper stickers in the parking lot. Scully had to remind herself that they were in Michigan Militia territory. "Michitucky," she'd heard it called by a few guys at the Bureau. Nevertheless, she pulled up to the firing range with fire in her blood. She might not share their politics, but she would share their space, and show most of them up to boot.

They signed in and bought ammunition. She got a few extra looks for being a visibly pregnant woman, but most of the men (and they were all men) who were at the range gave her begrudging looks of approval. Mulder stood, standing straighter and closer than normal, practically growling at anyone who got too close. She had to admit that his fierce protective nature was more than a turn-on.

The range was outdoors -- different than what they were used to at Quantico. And where there were metal tables and dividers and state of the art equipment at the government facility, here it was all beat-to-shit plywood tables and sunburnt grass littered with shell casings and old ear plugs. They took the lane at the end.

They both loaded and checked their weapons, snugged earmuffs over their heads.

"You want to go first?" Mulder asked, double checking the safety on his pistol and setting it on the table behind their station.

"I can do that," Scully said, looking down at her Sig.

"Care for a little wager?" her husband asked.

"You can't afford me, Dr. Mulder," she said, admiring the still-lanky line of his physique.

He raised his eyebrows, and leaned back against the tall wobbly table. "Oh-ho," he said, "I suppose that depends on the currency." He had a smug look about him that she wanted to wipe off his face. She was a better marksman and more competitive than anyone gave her credit for.

"What are you offering?" she asked.

"Dishes?" he offered, "Laundry?"

"We had children for the menial labor," she challenged, "I can win this with one hand tied behind my back. Make it interesting for me."

He licked his lips. She had him.

"I liked the part about 'hands behind the back,'" he said, "Winner decides who wears the handcuffs."

"You're not exactly incentivizing this, Mulder."

He had a flushed look about him; his nostrils flared.

"Prove it," he said, and she felt a flush. Second trimester hormones could be a beautiful thing, she mused.

It took her several rounds before she got back into the groove. It actually had been too long since she'd practiced and she was rusty. Considering their current situation, she ought not to let it happen again. Her last few rounds were dead center. Once her clip was empty, she cleared her weapon and stepped back.

Mulder's turn.

He wasn't quite as out of practice as she was initially, which irritated her to no end. However, his fourth and fifth shots were a bit wide, and he ended around the edges.

When he was clear, she stepped back up and took a bracing breath. She raised her weapon and fired rapidly; all her shots were center mass except the last two, which she swung up and finished with perfect shots to the head of the paper dummy.

When Mulder stepped forward for his turn, she nudged him.

"How big would you say the back of the Yukon is?'" she asked casually.

His first three shots went wide.

XxXxXxXxXxX

October 17, 2018

“Mom?” Lily asked. There was a hesitancy in her voice that made Scully look up from where she was chopping vegetables for dinner. “How did you know you loved Dad?”

Scully set the knife down and turned toward her daughter. “That’s a big question, Lil.”

“What’s a big question?” Mulder came breezing into the kitchen, shooting Scully an intrigued look.

Scully suspected something was up, but didn’t want to embarrass their daughter. Lily had always had an inquisitive streak and would occasionally come to Scully with problems or questions, but she was apt to clam up when pressed.

“Lily was asking me about how I fell in love with you,” Scully said, trying to catch Mulder’s eye.

“It was the day she met me, no doubt,” Mulder said. He grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter and shined it on his sleeve before taking a snappy bite. “I’m catnip to the ladies,” he said around the mouthful. Lily smiled. Scully rolled her eyes.  

“Suddenly, I’m struggling to remember,” Scully said with mock derision. Mulder gave her a cheeky grin.

“Did you know right away?” Lily asked.

Scully paused. “Not… Not right away,” she said thoughtfully.

Lily looked back and forth between her parents. “I guess it was a long time ago, huh.”

“Love in a time of sarsaparilla,” Mulder said dreamily. Scully shook her head and he caught her eye. “It wasn’t that long ago, Lil,“ he went on, and Scully felt the low bloom of feeling that always accompanied a look from her husband. For as long as she lived, she would always remember the first time she felt it; on the Tooms case, when he’d hooked his finger in her necklace and pulled.

“No, what I mean is… it was complicated,” Scully clarified.

Lily nodded and turned to her father. “You were married. Before Mom.”

“Yes,” Mulder said.

“Did you love her? Your ex wife?”

“I thought I did.”

“When did you figure out that you didn’t?” Lily asked.

“When I met your Mom,” Mulder said.

“So what you felt with Mom…”

“... was so much bigger than I was, that I couldn’t contain it.”

Scully felt her eyes well up. Mulder still sometimes had the ability to make her feel things all the way down to her toes.

Lily smiled, but looked pensive.

"But you thought you loved this other woman? I mean, enough to marry her?" she asked.

Mulder narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "What are you asking, Lil?"

Lily shook her head, her cheeks pink. She grabbed a soda from the fridge and walked out of the room.

“Oh boy,” said Scully.

“What?” Mulder asked.

“Travis,” said Scully. “She’s trying to figure it all out.”

“Jesus, he didn’t propose, did he?” Mulder asked. The look on his face was enough to make her laugh, but she held it in.

Scully turned fully to Mulder and leaned back against the countertop, crossing her arms in front of her.

“You want to know what I think?” she asked. Mulder nodded. “She’s trying to decide whether or when to...” She made a vague gesture with her hands.

Mulder looked at her, still not understanding. Scully gave him the stare of the dotard husband.

“Mulder…” she said, glaring hard.

Realization dawned and Mulder swallowed. “I should have had that boy killed,” he said.

Scully turned back to the vegetables she’d been chopping. “Let’s refrain from wetwork while we’re on the lam.”

“I make no promises,” he said, and slid up behind her, stepping in close and putting his hands on her waist.  

“I had the guys check him out by way of Darlene,” Scully said. “He is who he says he is. And he seems like a decent kid. Let’s let her navigate this on her own, huh?” She felt his fingers squeeze and then they drifted down to rest on her hips.

“I don’t like it,” he mumbled, and leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to,” she said. “But you do have to accept it, and trust that we raised her to make these decisions for herself.”  She remembered being nineteen and in college and in love for the first time. “You want to hear about Kevin McAvoy, my freshman year boyfriend?”

Mulder squeezed his fingers again and then started to turn her slowly toward him. She set down the knife on the counter and let him. His head was bent toward her and she felt his breath fan her face.

“No,” he said, leaning even more into her personal space.

“I was his Little Red Corvette,” she said playfully, tipping her head back in challenge. He smiled, but she saw something rough pass through his eyes. “He’d put on Prince and --”

Mulder leaned down and silenced her with a kiss.

XxXxXxXxXxX

In her room, Lily sat on the bed, the can of soda from the fridge sitting unopened on her bedside table. Condensation beaded on the side of it, sliding down silently to pool at the base, unnoticed.

Crusher liked to sleep on her pillow, and had left a black felted indent in the feathers, which Lily brushed away and fluffed. She looked about the room. Not much about it spoke of the young woman who slept there and had for months; no posters on the walls, no pennants hanging or pictures of friends. It was a sterile guest room decorated with the mute tones of an unmarried 60-something and lately it had been making her feel like she wasn't even herself.

She stood and walked to the desk, the one place she deposited her things. Her wallet, the phone Darlene had given her that she rarely used and usually kept switched off. Her purse was half hanging off -- likely knocked into such a position by a passing cat -- and when she righted it, she noticed the picture that sat under it. The photo of her father and an unfamiliar brunette, who's face conveyed confidence -- almost a smugness -- and a certain charm.

She stared at the picture. And she wondered.

XxX

October 20, 2018

Lily glanced over her shoulder when she sat, feeling as though she were doing something illegal, something fraught.

No one really used the computer labs anymore -- if you needed to, you could write an entire paper on your phone, though Lily found the practice ridiculous and immature. Nevertheless, there were one or two students sitting at the various desktops around the small library lab, and she checked to make sure no one was paying attention to what she was doing.

She tried to be careful. She had told Travis that she was hoping to log into the university's network to prep for some of the classes she’d be taking at UVA next semester and so she was using his password and login information. She'd checked to make sure there were no cameras on the area where she sat, and that her back was to the one aimed at the larger area.

With a bracing breath, she logged on.

It was surprising what you could find with a simple Google search, and the commonwealth of Virginia's vital records office would send you a copy of any marriage certificate for a fee of $45. Knowing better than to use a credit card, she'd opted for a more in depth search, and found what she was looking for in the Daily Press -- the local newspaper of record in Newport News, Virginia.

It was a wedding announcement, complete with two pictures -- one, the same picture she'd found in her parent's attic and the other of a similar style -- of Fox William Mulder and Lauren Edith Williams, married on August 17th, 1988. According to the article, Lauren had been a recent graduate of Georgetown University and had been employed at Schuster and McClure, a PR firm in the District of Columbia.

Lily looked at the new photograph on the screen before her. Her father looked so young. Only a few years older than herself. Lauren was pretty, had perfect posture, and was staring into the camera like a dare; her dress was all frills and white froth, the material of the dress ruched in large poofs at the shoulders, a crown of satin flowers around the lush brunette curls on her head. She looked like someone Lily wouldn't have dared talk to back in high school. She looked nothing like Lily's mother.

Lauren Edith Williams, she wrote down, and stared at the paper in front of her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

October 21, 2018

Lily was on the bus when she noticed him. It was his age that first drew her attention. Most everyone that rode this route (it went right into campus) was either a student or a professor, and something about him seemed the antithesis of scholarly. He had a sharp face, was dressed in loose clothing, a plain, black ball cap pulled low over his head. His knee bounced where he sat. She thought she could make out a tattoo curling onto the skin under the sleeve of his jacket. He could have been custodial staff for all she knew, but her parents had raised her to trust her instincts, and something inside of her pinged.

He hadn’t so much as looked in her direction, but she reached up and pulled the cord that requested a stop anyway, keeping him in her periphery when the bus rolled to the next stop. She was five blocks further away than she would have liked -- she was supposed to meet Travis just off campus for lunch. The man didn't move or rise from his seat. Nevertheless, she ducked out of the back door and onto the sidewalk, shouldering her purse and pretending to look at her phone. Only when the bus left with the man still on it would she exhale. The bus had just started to roll forward when it chirped to a stop and the front doors opened. The man in the cap trotted down the steps and onto the sidewalk, glancing briefly at her before turning and walking slowly west. Adrenaline awash in her bloodstream, she turned east.

The man had had a nondescript face. He was of average height and build, not someone you'd notice. She wracked her brain trying to remember when or if she'd seen him before, and had a hazy recollection of someone who might have been him: waiting outside of Travis's dorm when she'd come to visit him a couple days prior, or maybe even standing behind her in line at a coffee shop the day before. She should have been paying closer attention. Her parents had taught her to pay closer attention. Up until she'd done a search on her father and his ex-wife, she had. Lily silently cursed at herself.

She looked at her reflection in the shop windows along Grand River Avenue, trying to catch a glimpse behind her. She caught movement, but there were plenty of other people walking up and down the sidewalk. She needed a better look.

She swung up the stairs of the Student Union when she came to it a moment later, remembering walking in with her brother and dad only the month before, and felt the sharp pang of guilt.

When she reached the top of the staircase, she stopped to retie her shoe, glancing back behind her as she did so. The man in the cap was there, and had paused a ways away, looking down at his phone. Lily finished fiddling with her shoe and casually walked to the door, holding it open for a girl who was coming out, her heart hammering in her chest as she did so. Through the large doorway was a wide set of stairs going both up and down. When the door closed behind her, she bolted down the stairs to her right. There were a number of study spaces and she could pass through each one fairly quickly -- the day was busy and there were students everywhere; if she was lucky she could get lost in the crowd.

She ducked through the main lounge and past the small coffee shop on the lower level, looking behind her. She saw nothing, but that didn't mean he still wasn't coming. Seeing the full racks of clothing in the Spirit Shop across the hallway, she went inside, bending down to pretend to look at a few items on the bottom shelf.

Peering through underneath the hanging shirts, she watched as the man in the black cap came down the hallway outside of the shop and paused, turning toward it. Her heart leapt to her throat. He did a slow turn and then turned to keep walking. She kept her head down.

From the corner of her eye she caught her own reflection in the mirror outside the tiny dressing room -- she was wearing a bright blue shirt and her hair -- as bright and reflective as a stop sign, and always a part of herself she was fond of -- would give her away.

She stood, scanning the hallway outside the shop, and then she hastily pulled a green knit cap off a nearby shelf and pulled the tag off, shoving it over her head and tucking her hair up under it as quickly as she could. She grabbed a large tee shirt off the rack nearest her and took it plus the hat's tag to the counter, pulling some cash that her parents always had her carry out and plunking it on the counter.

"I don't need a receipt, thanks," she told the young woman helping her, and turned away.

"But what about your change?" the girl called after her.

"Tip jar," she said, turning back and keeping her voice low.

Once outside the store, she pulled the tee shirt over her head and made her way for the lower level exit that emptied onto campus. Seeing no one behind her, she took the steps out as fast as they would carry her and ran.

XxX

Darlene narrowed her eyes at Lily, and opened the door. “Quickly,” she said.

“Thanks,” Lily said, as Darlene let her into the house, peering around the block. “I didn’t want to use the phone.”

“I get it,” Darlene replied as she ushered Lily into her kitchen, where Lily sank onto one of the stools that sat before the peninsula of the counter.

"You want a lemonade or something, kiddo?" Darlene asked, leaning forward against the counter herself and giving Lily an expectant look -- there was more to it than just polite hospitality.

"No, thanks," Lily said, feeling the weight of Darlene's gaze and her own guilt in equal measure.

"Did you do something stupid?" Darlene asked outright and Lily, taken aback, sat up straighter, but didn't answer, thus confirming Darlene's clear suspicion. "How bad?"

"I think they found us."

Darlene huffed a breath. "Elaborate," she said.

"I... I ran a search. A couple days ago, in the university library. I was careful, but maybe not careful enough."

"What did you search?"

"My dad's ex-wife."

Darlene gave a low whistle. "Kiddo," she said, a statement.

"I know."

"Have you considered just asking him about her?"

Lily hugged herself.

"I have. I did. But… I wanted to know. For me. I don't want his version of this woman. I wanted to see for myself who she was. Is."

Darlene moved to the window and peered out, lowering the blinds as she did so. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Lily once again felt a pang of guilt. She looked down. "Not really."

Darlene moved around the counter to a sideboard table on the dining room side of the counter and began shuffling through a drawer.

"What makes you think they found you?" she asked.

"I think there's someone following me," Lily said, "I think maybe I’ve seen him a couple of times on campus, but I don’t know. I lost him and came here."

"Just one someone?"

Lily began to second guess herself.

"I think so?"

When Darlene straightened from the sideboard she was holding a pistol.

"Call your father right now, and tell him to get over here. Armed." Darlene's words were cold and calm. Lily's stomach dropped in her gut.

She reached for Darlene's phone, a relic from another time which hung on the wall, its cord coiled like a snake.

Darlene walked to the sliding glass door as she dialed the numbers, each tone sounding long and drawn out, Darlene pulled the long curtains closed with a snap.

"Dad?" Lily said, when Mulder answered.

"Hey Lil!" he sounded so relaxed, excited just to talk to her though he'd seen her that morning.

"Dad, I'm at Darlene's. She says to get over here. She said to bring your gun."

She heard his sharp inhale. “I’m coming,” he said, and then she heard a dial tone.

"Lily," said Darlene, walking over to her computer, which was booted up and sitting on her dining room table, cords snaking out of it and across the floor. She quickly typed hunt-and-peck with her right hand, the gun still clutched in her left. "I want you to go into the top right drawer in my dresser. In a small lockbox, code 9-10-9-3, you'll find an old Nokia phone. It should be fully charged. It’s untraceable. Do not turn it on. Take it. Put it somewhere safe -- your bra or your sock or underwear. Then get under my bed."

Lily walked to the hallway, her body on autopilot, her heart hammering and her blood roaring in her veins.

Darlene finished typing, clicked a few things with her mouse and then peeked an eye out the closed curtain toward the backyard, tapping the gun against the side of her thigh.

Pausing in the hallway, Lily turned back to Darlene.

"Is someone coming?" Lily asked.

"Kid," Darlene said, shooting her a look, "they're already here."

[samwrights]

First Year Daddies (+ Kyoutani!)

I’m trying to spread out my requests—I have a whole bunch of Kuroo ones that I swear he is my most requested person. So let’s take a break from our beloved rooster and get some daddies up in this! That being said, this will kinda be a part 2 to Karasuno as dads, with the addition of our beloved Mad Dog. @dreamyjaems you know what’s up.

Kageyama;

Alright, let’s redeem Kags cause I did him dirty last time.

It took him sometime to get used to being a parent, but when he finally got it down, he loved every second of it.

Your daughter, now five years old, loves daddy just as much as he loves her.

Now that you’d gone back to work and the two of you had some semblance of a schedule, Kageyama was 100% in charge of childcare while you worked in the morning.

Lucky break for the two of you that Kags didn’t start practice until the afternoon, giving him time to take your little girl to kindergarten with you picking her up.

It was the same routine every morning—mommy goes to work and daddy makes pancakes while putting on Disney movies.

Always a short stack and he made sure to cut it up just the way his little girl liked it—into 16 pieces. Yes, 16. No more, no less.

Your daughter was a lucky little bugger, getting her fathers thick, silky hair. By this age, it’s incredibly long and Kags always brushes it and does it nicely before taking her to school, then off to work he goes.

His locksreen is definitely a picture of him and his daughter. It gets him through the day.

After picking up your child from school, you help her with homework since Kags won’t be home until later.

Sometimes, it really shocks you just how lucky the two of you got for having such a well behaved kid—super low maintenance, doesn’t really cause trouble. That is, until she starts missing her dad.

Yes, she is a hardcore daddy’s girl 💀

Usually, it’s around dinner time that she gets fussy because Kageyama will be waking through the door any minute and that minute canNOT pass soon enough. She’s more like you than you think.

“Hi sweetie,” you call out while you know for a fact he’s scooping up his little bean in his arms before coming to give you a kiss. Routine was nice that way.

The three of you go about your evening as per usual—having dinner together, you giving your little one a bath and Kageyama reading her to bed so that the two of you can cuddle up on the couch before turning in for the evening.

After he finishes reading, he joins you for your quiet time, seeing that you’re watching a movie and drinking a glass of wine. “I wanted to talk to you about...something.” He says stiffly. You quirk a brow at him after hitting pause, patiently waiting for him to continue. “How...how would you feel about having another one?”

“Another glass of wine? Hell yeah.”

“[name], no. Another kid.” Oh. Well, this is a shocking turn of events. Kageyama, the barely legal adult that initially had no idea whether or not was ready to be a father, wanted another child.

“Are you sure, Tobio?” Was all you responded with.

“Obviously, since I’m asking you,” there’s a twinge in his voice that you aren’t sure you’ve heard before. Not quite begging, per se. perhaps imploring was a better word for it? “I love our family and I just want it to keep growing.”

This was such a far cry from the man that Kageyama Tobio was six years ago when you first found out you were pregnant, and you would be lying if you said that his admission didn’t turn you on in the slightest.

“Well we’ve got some work to do then, buddy.”

Hinata;

Hinata Shoyo finally got his wish. With his son, now 10, and daughter, now 8, your youngest daughter was nearing her terrible twos.

There was nothing more in the world that your newest baby loved more than daddy.

It was actually kind of irritating, actually, because if Shoyo wasn’t home, she would cry and throw temper tantrums until your husband walked through the door.

Shit, it even irritated your other two kids who, in order to avoid it all, would usually be at their friend’s houses doing homework and hanging out until they knew their dad would be home.

If only you were able to do the same.

The second that Sho walked through the door, every sound in the Hinata household ceases, as if your toddler wasn’t just screaming her lungs out moments ago.

“Hi, princess! Did you miss daddy today? I know I missed you a whole bunch!”

On god, he is such a good dad it hurts. He’s gotten even better since the addition of the youngest.

“Hi sweetheart,” you greet with a quick peck onto his lips. His daughter, and yes very specifically the almost two-year-old is his daughter, grunts in discomfort despite being held by dad. She doesn’t like the fact that you took dad’s attention away for a second. “Oh, quiet you.” You grumble at her.

“[name]! Be nice to angel!” You roll your eyes at him instead. As if you haven’t raised your last two kids, who were now walking in the door. “Come on, pumpkin, let’s go get some food in our bellies!”

Hinata places her in her high chair, obnoxiously making little airplane noises as he feeds her. Spoiled little brat.

“Mom,” your son starts cautiously, looking back and forth between his father and baby sister. “Was dad always like this?” He asks, referring to the overly enthusiastic train noises your husband was making.

“No, honey.”

“Okay, just making sure he hasn’t been a dork our entire lives.”

“Oh, that? Yeah.”

Tsukishima;

It needs to be reiterated, you felt, that Tsukki is an amazing father.

Your oldest and Kei’s step-daughter, now 12, and your youngest daughter, now 7, would vehemently agree.

They never did actually grow out of the habit of calling him Tsukki, as opposed to dad. Though when speaking to other people, they both referred to him as their father.

It was quite endearing, actually. Your family was happy with the way things were, even if they were slightly unconventional.

Sunday mornings were family days—an adamant rule in the Tsukishima household. Kei would be in charge of making breakfast while you and the girls blasted some upbeat music while tidying up your rooms.

While Kei does not find Kesha and Lizzo to be “the classics” as you so put it while you cleaned, he did find it amusing to see all three Tsukishima women dancing and singing while cleaning.

Lowkey, it warmed his heart to know these were the three women of his life.

Kei is still the same protective dad he was even before having his own child—it only got worse when your oldest started showing an interest in the opposite gender.

Ya know how he wasn’t afraid to fight a toddler for his little girl? He’s definitely not afraid to fight some middle school punk.

Especially when your oldest comes home bawling her eyes out because she had decided to confess to the boy she liked and he had said he didn’t return feelings.

No matter how much you tried to console her, nothing you said seemed to work. It was dad’s turn.

Tsukki sits her down, his face as serious as ever, before adjusting his glasses to look at his step-daughter clearly. “Don’t tell mom that I said this, but boys ain’t shit.” 💀💀💀

“Ooooh, Tsukki said a bad word.” She joked in between her now calming tears.

“It’s true, though. Now come on, chin up. Princesses can’t have their heads down, their crowns will fall off.”

Yamaguchi;

Despite the years of torture and struggle that was raising your twin hellions, Tadashi was kind of feeling a little empty now that the boys had grown into being more independent.

They were now seven-years-old, in sports, getting good grades—it’s like they were replaced with a different set of twins.

However, this also grants Tadashi the chance to actually step in and be a father, rather than letting those two run him ragged all day.

I see Yamaguchi being a slightly more strict parent, but loving nonetheless. Because the twins have always sort have been troublemakers, he’s strict on making sure the boys are home in time for dinner and that their schoolwork is done.

If they aren’t 💀💀💀

Honestly, your guys’ life though is just all around peaceful and a small part of you is longing for chaos.

So before the two of you head to sleep for the evening, your both just chilling in bed, maybe reading a book. Ya know, like 90s sitcom style.

“Hey Tadashi, can I ask you something?” That was never a good sign in his book, but he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to proceed. “How would you feel if we had another kid?”

“Wait, are you pregnant?” You certainly didn’t miss the panic that filled his eyes. Oh. There’s your answer.

“No...I just...kinda miss holding a baby, ya know? Our boys are seven now, they don’t want mom anywhere near them and they think my hugs and kisses are gross.”

Ngl, it kinda hurts him to hear that because he knows it hurts you. All he wants to do his make you feel better.

“I mean, I’m not opposed I’m just—“

“Scared the next one is gonna turn out the same way?” He laughs at the fact that you know him so well. “Don’t get me wrong, I am too. But in the end, we raised them so well. I don’t think we’ll have anything to worry about.”

Kyoutani;

The two of you never ceased to surprise anyone.

At first, it started with the two of you dating in your third years of high school, all the way through college (which, it shocked some that he in enrolled in university at all), to bringing your three-year-old son to the class of 2014 reunion.

Where did people even begin? The fact that you two had been dating for ten years or the fact that the two of you were parents?

It bothered you when people made assumptions about Kentarou.

Yes, he was cold and brash and a complete pain in your ass, but he was a damn good life partner and father.

Kyoutani wasn’t satisfied with anything if he wasn’t giving it his all—that includes his relationship with you and your guys’ son.

While he isn’t necessarily the most affectionate person, he always made sure his little family had everything they needed.

Yahaba is the first one to approach the three of you, surprised to see Kentarou holding his little one. “Holy shit, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Language.” Your boyfriend bites out. A small laugh escapes your lips as you pat him on the back in reassurance as you give Yahaba a hug.

“Nice to see you too, Shigeru.” The former setter looks between the two of you, then looks at your son.

“It’s so scary to see your mini-me with his eyes.”

“Don’t be rude.” You chide him calmly, while Kyoutani feels his blood boil slightly. That sounded like an insult to him. Wordlessly, he hands over your son before squaring up with his former teammate. “Honey, please don’t start a fight.”

You were one of the few people to calm him down; a given considering your decade together.

Backing down, Kentarou retreats to your side, securing an arm around his waist and placing a chaste kiss in his sons hair. Knowing his mannerisms, you knew that was an apology to his child for losing his cool for a minute.

“Holy shit.” Yahaba repeats, stunned by the display of affection

“Language!” Your boyfriend snarls again through clenched teeth, making you laugh again. The three of you were far from perfect, but you had everything you needed.

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 5

Day 5: Mission Go- Cooking for @taiqrowweek

Wait what do you mean I switched the prompt days around? Dunno what you’re talking about ;)

(Don’t worry it’ll make more sense in the long run)

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Sleeve

~

Tai had started feeding him.

At first, it had begun with little things, shortly following that fateful day he gave him the picture. Prepackaged snacks or fresh fruits or vegetables as a healthy addition to the cheap, instant lunch meals he could easily afford. Then it quickly dissolved into tubberware covered leftovers of various pastas or stews, things that kept well and were well adept at making in large servings.

By late May, with the advent of Qrow’s twenty-sixth birthday, Tai arrived at his place loaded with grocery bags, a proper skillet and a determined purpose to make his favorite dish of chicken curry. It was, hands down, one of the best meals he’d had in years.

Yet, even after the occasion passed, the trend continued until it seemed Sunday became the day his stomach most looked forward too. Normally, Qrow would put up a fight about being doted after – Tai wouldn’t be the first omega to develop the habit. The most prominent of whom had been Maria, whose sessions had to be shorter than most both due to her age and the difficulty working with thinner, more wrinkled skin.

But she had also been a grandmother. A feisty one, who smacked him on the head a lot with her cane, but was also kind and worried and constantly remarking on his too-thin frame until he just gave up and let her do whatever she wanted.

But with Tai, he couldn’t even manage to feign annoyance. In part because Tai’s cooking was damn good and he’d be a fool not to gobble it up at every opportunity. But also, because it gave an excuse for their sessions to run long.

He didn’t even think it was a one-sided endeavor. Beyond the innate omega instinct to care for and Tai’s naturally generous personality, there was a loneliness in those blue eyes that told the truth behind all the fumbled attempts to waste time or make breaks run longer. By July, Tai wasn’t leaving his place until at least ten at night.

Neither of them complained about the arrangement.

Then August rolled around, and Qrow had an absolutely foolish idea.

The first Sunday of the month was on the 5th and it passed with little incident or notice. They were back at the first of the designs, arguably the most complex with the amount of color layers needed, so their dinner was nothing fancy. Just simple sandwiches and side salads, so most of their time could be spent under the needle instead.

He’d banked on that happening so that what would happen next wouldn’t have a chance of paling in comparison.

You busy tonight? He messaged early Wednesday.

Tai responded a few hours later, probably when his first break popped up. No. Why?

Come over after work. I have something to give you. He replied after he’d finished with his client for the day, sometime early afternoon.

The final response was cheeky and towards the end of the school day. You’re about as subtle as a brick.

Almost at 6 P.M. on the dot, there was a knock on his door.

“Coming!” Qrow called, dancing between the kitchen and the table to make sure everything was perfectly in place. He gave it all a satisfactory nod, then hurried over, sliding the door open only enough so he could wedge between it and the threshold, blocking Tai’s view.

The omega looked different, fresh out of work. His blond hair had been lightly gelled, just enough to give it a bit of bounce. The casual wear he was normally in was swapped out for a more professional look; pants and a collared shirt ironed of any wrinkles and shoes shined enough they gleamed.

So of course his eyes fell onto the one thing that completely ruined the look with a teasing snort. “Nice tie, Tai.”

“You like it?” He grinned, pulling at the absolutely hideous yellow abomination that was covered in yapping cartoon corgis. “The kids love ‘em. They call me the Funny Tie Guy.”

Oh Gods. “Bet you get a kick out of it every time.”

“I literally can knot get enough of it.” Tai had the nerve to wink as he said it too.

Qrow groaned. “You are so lucky it’s your day. Speaking of-” He swung the door open, revealing the room with a flourish.

Admittedly, it wasn’t much. Still, it was satisfying to see the way Tai’s face lit up with joy as he spotted the modest little table set for two, dinner already set in their bowls and the most expensive white wine he could reasonably afford already poured. The omega looked from it to him, grin growing, “You did all this?”

“Yeaaah.” Qrow flushed, trying to hide his anxiety. He’d never been great with giving gifts. “Happy birthday ya big lug.”

Tai laughed, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. “Thank you. This is just what I wanted.”

He could have stayed there forever – but he didn’t work himself to death to let dinner go cold. He pat his back, mindful of the healing wounds, and said, “Let’s eat.”

Qrow’s relationship with cooking was disjointed and the spread seemed to reflect that. The fried rice was perfect; it was one of the first things his mother taught him how to make on the stove. The garlic broccoli, more of a staple in the Xiao Long family, had a bit of crunch where some of the pieces hadn’t fully cooked through because he hadn’t had Tai beside him to remind him to stir. Just like the many other easy things he helped him learn how to make when he found out he and Raven had been living off nothing but white rice and peanut butter sandwiches for months.

The moo shu pork was the trickiest and most complicated dish by far and nothing he’d ever even attempted before. His amateur hand left it looking a bit of a mess as they poured it onto the tortillas. Unpretty as it was in presentation and lacking a few of the pricier ingredients like oyster sauce and sesame oil, the marinade had the pork still bursting with flavor.  

The wine was there to act as a garnish to make the food seem better than it was. Which was probably why Qrow kept pouring it until he and Tai had split two and a half glasses between each other. Either that, or because Tai was adorably chatty when he was tipsy.

“So, there we are, watching about thirty of these Fayblades spinning around, knocking into each other and some of the cheaper ones are falling apart. Everything is going too fast for any of us to do the math problems on them. And Missy and I just look at each other like we both just realized what a horrible mistake we made. It was only the first week back and I was pretty sure we were about to lose an eye or something.” As he told the story, Tai animatedly gestured around with his glass, liquid sloshing almost past the rim. “We get the kids to back up until they all stop. Then Missy starts gathering a few up, saying how this time we would try less so we can actually keep count – when Velvet speaks up from the back and says ‘Blue wins 124 to 90’.”

Qrow polished off his own glass, setting it on the table. “That’s the quiet one with the rabbit in her bag, right?”

“Mmhmm. She kind of tries to hide when everyone starts looking at her, so I don’t say anything right then. Just take it as fact and move on. But when recess comes around, I pull her aside and ask her how she knew the answer. And she tells me, completely serious mind you, that she’s a camera. So it was easy to do all the math when she basically had the pictures saved in her head. And I’m like, holy shit!” He taps his temple for emphasis. “She has a photographic memory.”

“Ain’t that just a myth?” He asked, starting to gather the empty dishes.

Tai waved him off. “Pfft. Qrow, you gotta stop thinking like the world’s just a big science textbook. It’s more like a-a fairytale! Where magic can happen at any moment.”

“Tai, you’re drunk.”

“I am not!” This time, when he gestured, some of the wine hit the table. He blinked down at it. “Ah, shit!”

He laughed. “Man, you still can’t hold your liquor.”

“You dishonor me.” The omega accused, pointing to his right hand as if it were an exhibit. “I’m holding it just fine.”

That only made him laugh harder, until he had to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.

~

Somehow, they found themselves laying side by side on the bed, shoulders pressed together. Tai’s scroll was balanced between the head of the bed and the wall, the display playing the finale of their favorite show growing up, Silver Eyes.  It was the height of the final battle. Rosette was locked in battle with Bastinda while the rest of her friends lay, unconscious or ensnared in traps, around them.

“Do you not yet see how pointless this all is? How my power eclipses you all?” Bastinda snarled as she swung her wand down. “You’re all just insignificant riffraff!”

Rosette seemed to find some strength, blocking the attack with her broadsword. “You’re wrong! No one is insignificant! Even the smallest of us has something good to contribute.”

“Foolish child!” A powerful gravity spell threw Rosette to the ground, knocking her sword out of her hand.

“Gods,” Qrow griped. “This is cheesier than I remember.”

Tai shushed him. “Hush, the best part’s coming up!”

He rolled his eyes, but his traitorous mouth smiled all the same. Alright, so maybe this part was pretty hype. Watching it play out again on the screen, he felt ten again, practically glued to screen as his excitement built.

A large shadow stretched across the valley, delaying the witch from striking the final blow as she turned to the source. Up on the hill, sun behind him, was Zwei. Rosette’s little corgi that had been with her from the start of the show. He came racing down the hill, stubby little legs barely able to pick up speed.

Bastinda sneered, pointed her wand at the dog. “Pathetic.”

“Zwei, no!!” Rosette cried, tears filling her eyes just as the blast fired.

It seemed like the end for the lovable pup as smoke filled the air.

And then, with a blast of light, something came flying out of the dust and landing before the witch. The world rumbled under powerful paws as the giant white wolf stood before her, letting out a powerful growl that brought her to her knees.

“I don’t believe it!” Blanca cried from her mirror prison. “Zwei’s a Guardian!”

The rest of the finale played out just as he remembered, Zwei turning the tide of the fight and giving Rosette a chance to free her friends, all of them coming together for one final attack that rid the world of the cruel witch once and for all. After that, the wolf turned back into the lovable and more marketable corgi pup, and everyone headed home to enjoy true peace for the first time in a millennium.

Tai sat up as the credits began to roll, stretching his arms above his head. “I still think it holds up pretty well.”

“Sure, if you ignore the fact they completely sidelined Silver Eyes. It’s only the title of the show.” He snarked.

“Come on now. It’s not about the power ups. It’s about the journey and the-”

“Friends they made alone the way.” He mimed gagging. It was only the motto shoved down his throat at the end of almost every episode.

Tai merely laughed at his antics, picking up his scroll and slipping off the bed. “It’s late. I better head home.”

Maybe it was the vestiges of the alcohol or maybe it was the other’s scent, sweeter and more inviting than usual, that loosened his tongue enough to offer, “You could crash here, if you want.”

“In your bed? We hardly fit.”

Acquiescently, he rolled onto his side, practically shoving himself against the wall as he pat the wide, empty space. “It’ll be fine. And your drunk.”

“Hardly. And I’ll have to get up early to get back home and get ready.”

“It’s fine.” The noise left him involuntarily. It wasn’t a growl, really; it was barely more than a rumble. Regardless, the regret hit him instantly as he bit down on his tongue and turned his face up apologetically.

The omega just arched a brow, entirely unaffected and unimpressed by his pitiful display. Then he chuckled, any meteor-sized tension there could have been burning up long before impact could be made. “Gods, you’re such a punk, you know that?”

“I…uh…”

“Alright, you win.” Tai set the alarm on his scroll with his right hand, while he crossed the room and got the lights with his left. He used the glow coming off of the device to find his way back, dropping it onto the nightstand. In the bits of moonlight coming from the window, Tai became an erotic beauty as he undid his tie and buttons, shrugging out of his shirt. His belt hit the ground next – though mercifully he kept his pants on.

Qrow watched him, utterly transfixed, as he lowed himself to the bed, mattress dipping anew with the readded weight as the omega stretched out onto his stomach. Beyond all comprehension, he had to fight every muscle in his body from reaching for him. The need to bring him close and curl around him was overwhelming. So, he shoved his hands underneath the crook of his neck and locked his elbows.

Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

Tai heaved out a long sigh, mumbling, “Goodnight Qrow.”

He swallowed, voice barely above a whisper as he responded, “G’night.”

Without a clock in the room, there was no telling how long he lay there, coiled up tight like a spring waiting for the pressure to come loose, listening to the sounds of Tai’s breathing slowly evening out. It wasn’t until Qrow was absolutely certain the other wouldn’t wake that he risked it.

Though it felt a bit reprehensible, it was with that same uncontrolled desire in which he found himself scooting his upper half forward, inch by agonizing inch, until the bridge of his nose was pressed up against the curve of Tai’s shoulder.

His eyes slipped shut, breathing in deeply. The omega’s scent swirled around him, sunflowers and soil and bright summer days; a smell that was unmistakably, irrevocably Tai.

Here. With him.

Slowly, the rigidity to his muscles relaxed and he finally drifted off, the scent embracing him as securely as its owner could.

[aliasimagines]

A Merry Little Christmas

word count: 1320

Merry Christmas @jmarshy97!! I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hope you have a magical, great holiday!💕✨🎄

and thanks so much for @jatpdaily for making this event happen! happy holidays to you all too! 💕✨🎄

Luke used to love christmas. It was honestly his favorite holiday as a small kid and that didn’t really change after he got older. There is just something about the colorful lights, the hot drinks and delicious foods that made the boy a big fan of the season.

But seeing Julie hanging up a few fairy lights on the studio while humming along to All I Want For Christmas caused him to recall his last christmas. Which was technically 25 years ago.

He thought back to the great christmas tree standing in the middle of their living room with the whole house being decorated. Luke remembers how he grabbed the garland out of his mother's hand with a smile because she couldn’t reach the top of the cabinet where she wanted to put it. Luke and his mom decorated the whole house in one afternoon while singing along to their favourite holiday songs. 

But he also remembers their fight, just a few days before christmas eve. She screamed at him, he screamed back, they all said some pretty bad things neither of them ment. That year he spent christmas alone and crying in the very same studio Julie and the boys are now decorating. Alright he wasn’t completely alone, the guys tried everything to make it a good one and he spent both christmas eve and boxing day at Bobby’s. But the fact that  it was his last Christmas alive and that he can’t ever spend it with his mother again came crashing down on him. Next thing he knew he poofed out of the studio.

He just couldn’t be there now. It was too..Too much? It wasn’t because of his friends, he just wanted to be alone right now.

Julie giggled as Reggie told her about that one time he, Luke and Alex decided to prank Bobby and feed him the lie that the only thing they got him for Christmas was a pair of socks. 

Alex was the first one to notice their friend's  absence.

“Hey...guys, where is Luke?”

Both Reggie and Julie looked up and glanced around the place with wide eyes.

“He was here a few minutes ago. Where did he go?” Reggie asks and soon after Julie puts her worry into words too.

“Why would he leave without a word?”

Alex shook his head before realization hit him like a lightning.

“It’s Christmas.” he said, mentally beating himself up for not thinking about it earlier. Julie looks at him with a puzzled look while Reggie just facepalms.

“Man, I completely forgot..”

Julie looks at Alex than at Reg.

“What? What’s going on you guys?”

Alex slowly exhaled, not that he needed air with being a ghost and all, and started to explain.

“Luke, he ran away from home just a week before Christmas back in the 90’s. It was really hard for him. And you know how he never got to make up with his mom so.. I guess Christmas is still a sensitive thing for him.” 

Alex felt the 'anxiety monster' inside of him creeping closer and closer. His thoughts were all over the place, trying to figure out what to do, blaming himself for not remembering. 

He started to walk up and down the studio while mumbling under his breath, he does this a lot when he is anxious, the boys like to call it his runway walk practice. 

"What do we do now?" he asked, finally stopping and looking at the remaining members of the band. 

"We are going to try everything we can to make this holiday extra special for Luke!" says Julie jumping up with a determined expression. 

"Yes, let's do this!" Reggie joined the singer and put his hand out mid-air. "For Luke!" 

"For Luke!" 

The studio looked amazing, it always did but now they really outdone themselves. 

All three of them, the two 'musician spirits' and Julie, stepped back so they could take in their masterpiece. 

"Wow, if I actually would have to like..you know, breathe I would be totally in trouble cause this-" Reggie gestures around the place " this takes my breath away." 

Julie nodded along. 

"I agree, now we just need to find him." 

Alex raised his hand.

"I'll go look for him." he starts walking towards the door but stops in his tracks and turns around "Hey, uhm.. Julie? Is there any chance we could watch Home Alone? Luke really liked that movie."

"Sure! I'll have it on by the time you guys are back."

Julie and Reggie went to find the movie as Alex poofed outside. 

Now he just needs to find a ghost who probably doesn't want to be found. Fortunately for Alex (and unfortunately for Luke) he knows Luke, so well that he doesn't really have to think for a  long time to figure out where he could be.

His guess is right because he sees the boy sitting in the sand. This was a small, kind of 'secret' part of the shore with overgrown bushes and trees blocking the view from the more busy part of the beach. 

They often came here, back when they were alive, this place was calm and the sound of the waves crashing into the sand was just so comforting. 

Luke loved it here the most probably. He is just such an energetic person always up and about, he just loved to escape it all and come here to relax. 

"Hey." the blond spoke softly. 

Luke didn't look up, he didn't need to, he knew who it was even before Alex opened his mouth. 

"Hey."

"Is this seat taken?" Alex awkwardly gestures to the empty space beside Luke. 

"It's all yours." he says simpy, sitting still and watching the waves. 

And for a few minutes they stay there, enjoying the silence and the company. 

"Luke.. I know how hard it is. And I'm sorry for forgetting about it.."

Luke finally turns away and looks at the drimmer. 

"No, bro, it's fine. You don't have to apologize. It's just- it sucks man. But at least I still have you..and Jules and Reg." 

"You will always have us, I promise. Do you maybe wanna get back?" 

"Why?" asks Luke quietly. 

"You love Christmas, and despite everything that happened I want you to still have a great time." he immediately goes to bite his lips, fearing that he overstepped. But then Luke smiles at him. 

"Let's go then." he gets up and offers his hand for Alex, who takes it, and pulls him up too. 

"Hey guys, sorry for- woah! What? The place looks incredible!!" Luke yells excitedly.

They rearranged a few furniture so the Christmas tree would fit in. It wasn't huge, but it was wide and looked beautiful with the handmade decorations on it. Small ghosts, instruments and fairylights hang from each branch. 

There are candles placed everywhere along traditional decorations that Luke's mum used all the time. 

"You like it?" Reggie jumps in front of him. Luke grabs his shoulders 

"Like it?? Dude, I'm in love with all of this! And you guys! I love you so much for doing this for me." 

They all laugh, happy they could make their friend smile. 

"Hey, Luke do you want to watch Home Alone?" Julie points at her laptop sitting on top of the small table in front of the couch. 

"Heck yeah! I love that movie!" 

They all went to sit down on the couch. 

"Thank you." says Luke for everyone but his eyes wander over to Alex. The blonde offered a smile as they gazed at each other for a few more seconds. 

"Khm.. Julie, how did you get your dad to buy a new tree?" asks Luke, tearing his gaze away from Alex. The girl grimaced at the question. 

"Well, about that.. I actually-" she was cut off by a yell coming from outside.

"JULIA MOLINA WHERE IS OUR CHRISTMAS TREE?!" 

[talvin-muircastle]

Am I Queer? It’s Controversial.

This is going to be long, and it’s going to cover a lot of ground, so please bear with me.  

Recently, this article came to my attention:

https://www.healthline.com/health/gender-nonconforming

I have spent a fair amount of time questioning my own sexuality/identity, and having it questioned by others.  Now approaching five full decades of life, I feel comfortable saying:

I identify as Male, and Straight.

I am Gender Non-Conforming by the standards of the culture I come from.

But I am not comfortable saying this qualifies me as “Queer” or otherwise under LGBTQIA+.   

That article (which is by no means the Last Word on the subject) identifies several areas where I do not conform to my AMAB status as culturally defined:

I have long hair.  But I also have a thick beard and moustache, and I like that combination.  Still, I grew up in a place where long hair on a guy meant you were A) Queer or B) into Heavy Metal.   Even though my teen years saw me sporting a military-style buzzcut more often than not, I tended to hang out with the Metalheads.  My long hair continues to be a point of contention with my conservative relatives and in-laws.   Some of them think I am a Hippie, which is funny because I am allergic to Cannabis.  Wanna watch me fight for breath and puke?  Blow weed smoke in my face.  

I am a Stay-At-Home Dad and Homemaker.  I have been the breadwinner for this family, but that is not part of my identity.  I am quite content to let my wife handle that part of things, and so is she.  I have been a Dad longer than I have been a father, in fact:  for most of my life I have been mentoring teenagers that find their way to me seeking advice, comfort, acceptance, and guidance.    I spent a lot of time worrying about what career should I follow, and it took me far too long to understand and accept that Dad was what I was after.  A woman seeking motherhood as a career is validated, a man seeking fatherhood in the same context is not conforming.  

When I was younger, I got hit with one hell of a double-standard: while wanting to be a Dad as a goal is not acceptable, I was supposed to go out there and sow my wild oats.  OK, I wasn’t really supposed to get girls pregnant, but I was supposed to try.  Wait, what? Try that again?  OK, if you were a teenaged boy in the 80s and 90s and I am pretty sure before that (not sure after, AIDS changed a lot of thinking all around), you were not supposed to get a girl pregnant, but you were supposed to make an attempt as often as possible, in fact you were supposed to score but fail.  If you are confused, don’t feel bad: I was living steeped in this paradox 24/7/365 and came out of it real confused.

Meanwhile, I was looking for a long-term, meaningful relationship with a woman who could be a partner in my life, and avoiding the one-night stands I was supposed to be after according to the standards of my culture, and so many of the people around me—parents, teachers, peers—decided that I must be Queer.  And that was Not A Good Classification To Find Yourself In in Rural Tennessee of the 80’s and 90’s.   Lacking real support, I entered adulthood like a trainwreck still skidding down the tracks, confused as hell and desperately trying to please people whose opinions mattered to me far more than they should.  I did finally find that relationship, and we celebrate 21 years of marriage this month.  Meanwhile I can’t keep track of who has gotten divorced and remarried from that crowd anymore.   

I am not a fan of American Football.  (I am not a fan of soccer, which is football to the rest of the world, but that’s not going to get you labeled Queer in the USA as yet.)   Even so, I got recruited to be the Football Manager for my high school football team, and then I spent several years studying to be an Athletic Trainer in college as an add-on to my English and Education degree.  The fact that I spent 7 years of my life on the sidelines of football games (and basketball, and baseball) and still do not really understand the rules of those sports should have been a clear sign to me that I was trying to conform and failing badly.  An American Male of my generation is supposed to like these things, he is supposed to scream at the television or scream from the stands when watching a game, he is supposed to have a Favorite Team and Wear Their Stuff.

Yeah, that’s not me.  I don’t like combative sports.  I like things that involve grace, beauty, and art.   Figure skating (either gender, singles, but especially pairs) is fun to watch.  The more artistic of gymnastics events are nice (uneven bars and vault are kinda boring, but I love watching floor exercise.)  Watching someone do tricks on a skateboard is more interesting to me than an MMA bout.  I enjoy the art of it.   I used to watch WWF Wrestling as a kid, but I found I enjoyed the “story” more than the violence.  Martial arts practice that is done like a dance is more interesting than watching two people try to kick each other in the face for real.   

I’m told I am supposed to like these things.  I am told that not liking them makes me less masculine.  

This extends into online gaming as well.  Oh, I like some combat games.  We aren’t going to talk about how many hours I have played the XCOM series.  But…I don’t like PVP or multiplayer. I like the story arc, and accomplishing things.  Minecraft?  I like building, and killing mobs is very secondary to that.  In single-player I usually just go peaceful mode and explore the world, build grand railways and tunnels, create comfortable houses or make a home under a lake with a glass roof under the water.  In World of Warcraft I spent more time exploring the world and getting cool screenshots than worrying about getting Phat Loot and XP.  I would take a whole afternoon just to escort a couple of new players through dangerous territory so they could find their friends.  

I have gotten a lot of grief over that.  I am supposed to go out and kill kill kill stab stab stab get the loot!  

And I am supposed to get more than the other person.  It’s competition.  Men are supposed to compete.  And if you can’t get more than the other guy you go dump buckets of lava on his house and laugh at the noob.  

I hate that.  

By the standards I was raised with, I am gender nonconforming.  I most definitely do not conform to the expectations that were laid upon me from my youth.

Does that make me Queer?   I am not comfortable claiming that.

The standards I was held to can also be considered Toxic Masculinity.  They hold that Queer==Less Of A Man.  “Queer” is not “Less.”  I was raised to think it is, but I have learned, and grown, and I know that it is not.  I also do not accept that I, myself, am Less.  The very premise of me being labeled Queer by those people is wrong on all counts.   I am different. I have always known that.  I believe that “Man” and “Male” can encompass more than violence, bullying, and competition.  I also know full well that many who identify as “Woman” and “Female” embrace those as ideals as well.  

I am no stranger to violence.  My life has often been violent.  I have fought off muggers who were armed with knives, I have stared down the barrel of a gun, I have been beaten because someone else wanted to establish himself as the dominant male in our school just after he moved there.  I am not a pacifist: the only reason I have not killed another human being in self-defense is because I was outnumbered.   I just don’t feel that defines my gender, and I have been told it should.  I fight to survive and to protect others, not to prove that I can.  

Others who look like me are guarding statues of Columbus with their Assault Rifles because they feel their masculinity is threatened.  This is another area where I do not conform to my expected gender roles.   Not only do I not feel my masculinity is threatened by BLM, or Pride, or the existence of Trans folks, I no longer feel my masculinity can be threatened.  I spent so many years under attack from “my” side, and gotten so much support from “their” side, that I now understand that my gender is not about what THEY think.  It is MY identity. I OWN it.  I am who I am regardless of their perception of me. Nothing someone else does can take that from me. 

And if anything about me is Queer, it is that: the understanding that my identity belongs to me and not to those who seek to mislabel me.  

I have been told by some in the Queer community that I am welcome among them, and I am grateful for that.  So, so many of my stories can be prefaced with, “There I was, the only Straight Guy in the room, when:”  I am proud to be an Ally.  

But calling myself Queer?  I’m not comfortable doing that.  I could, and I know some who would accept it.  But I feel it is more important to me to break the toxic definition of Masculinity and show that things like nurturing, caring, creating, dancing, loving, uplifting, and oh yes parenting, these ARE Male Qualities, always have been, and should always be.   No criticism of GNC folks who take the Queer label intended or implied: they are not Less, they own their own identity, they are valid.   They are themselves, and have a right to be. 

I am me.

I am a Man.

I will never be the Man they wanted me to be, and I am PROUD of that. 

Happy Pride Month.  

Don’t let the bastards get you down.

[heirloommtomatoes]

you’re in a car with a beautiful boy

I’m at least 90% sure this ask was not sent with the intent of receiving a fic as a response but. Here we are. This got way longer and more convoluted than I had intended it to be and I’m jus gonna post it at this point bc i’m losing my mind re-reading it jsksk ! The title is from part 24 of Richard Siken’s poem “You Are Jeff”. Perfect poem for their first kiss, I think! Enjoy reading! :)

Warnings: Two instances of canon-typical homophobic language; canon-typical swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k~

The day Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, red-cheeked, out of breath, and wanting, no — “I need to see you” — needing him, Mickey knows he’s done for.

What comes out is: “I thought you were working today.”

Nice, dumbshit, that’s helpful, he registers the thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but mostly he just can’t stop staring at Ian. His eyes flick over his face, and he doesn’t have time to be shocked by how much he cares.

He’s embarrassed to reveal that yes, he did memorize Ian’s work schedule because he was in fact listening to the guy when he was busy running his mouth at the convenience store. Instinctively, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He can’t let Terry see this gay shit, Ian all worked up about some mommy issues and Mickey trying in his own way. To do what exactly, he’s still not completely sure. Comfort him, maybe? He doubts his father would clue in, his head’s too far up his homophobic ass for that, but like hell Mickey’s gonna risk it. Nothing’s gonna touch Ian. Fucking ever, if it’s up to him.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Mickey says a short while later. He closes the door and goes back inside to stand around the dining table where Terry was going over some kind of raid or bust or heist while somehow managing to boss Mandy around every other word.

Mickey can’t focus on anything. He’s going to see Ian in twenty minutes. He’s bubbling with palpable excitement and fear and feelings he has no name for. What if Ian wants to talk about everything? Does he smell bad? What could Mickey say so he doesn’t leave? So Ian doesn’t see what a miserable shit he is? He hates Ian fucking Gallagher for making him care about dumb stuff like this, for making him incapable of hearing a word his Dad is saying to him and his brothers, for making him want to do some astronomically stupid thing like kiss him.

“Mickey, why you over there starin’ like some dumb fuckin’ fag?”

He doesn’t work up the courage for over another year.

Mickey slams the door to his room after running errands with Iggy all morning. It smells stale and one of the posters is curling off the wall in the mid-summer humidity. He’d changed his sheets this morning. The same red ones from the day Ian had burst in here like a maniac demanding the gun back. From then on, the two had been inseparable; no matter how hard their South Side circumstances had tried to pry them apart, every time they came back together like magnets.

Mickey knows he can’t really hide from Ian, and it scares him as much as it excites him. Ian reads him like no one ever has. The guy even had the nerve to smile that adorable smile that makes Mickey’s chest tight when he’d told him he’d rip his tongue out back in juvie. For some reason that Mickey cannot begin to fathom, Ian seems to want to spend time with him. Seems to believe in him.

He had thought himself perfectly fine to live a life half-awake, to spend his days either in prison or in the Milkovich household (one in the same, he thinks - except that juvie doesn’t have Terry), probably die by shivs or bullets or fists, and have his body buried in some unmarked grave all before his 50th birthday. Ian had wedged his place in the timeline of Mickey’s life. There was a before, and an after, and neither of them would ever be the same. Mickey pretends that its not this thought that keeps him up at night.

As soon as he realized that Iggy and Colin and Terry looked at girls and actually wanted them, that it wasn’t just some bizarre social act they all bought into, he knew he was fucked for life. His whole existence feels like some grand joke that everyone is in on but him, and when he lays down at night and stares at his ceiling and thinks about Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, he wonders if maybe he was the butt of it all along.

Ian Gallagher, who knew him and wanted him anyway, who took the time to care about him, who sought him out to spend time with him just because he wanted to. When had their ten minute fucks turned into smoke breaks? When had their smoke breaks turned into —

Mickey’s phone dings in his pocket as he sits on the steps of the Milkovich house, a cigarette dangling idly from his mouth.

Ian

what are ur plans today

He swallows his heart back down as it leaps into his throat, almost dizzying him with excitement. Get a grip, you fuckin’ girl. He’d done all that he needed to do for the day. He’d helped Iggy with some errands in the morning and had planned on laying low, playing Halo 3, and chain-smoking his way through a pack until dinner.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say. He texts back:

Mickey

don’t have any

He wants to say “why, what’s up?”, he wants to say “let’s go to the dugouts”, he wants to say “let’s do something”, “let’s hang out”, “i want to see you”, “i want you”. But he’s not allowed to want things. Certainly not…this. Whatever this is. He receives a response almost immediately and can’t help but crack a fond smile. Someone’s eager.

Ian

come with me to that abandoned building near the L

you know the spot

That’s how Mickey finds himself sitting atop a wooden platform, watching Ian run military drills below at 1 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

He fires his gun into the sky while resolutely pretending not to be checking out the younger boy below.

“Hey,” Ian says, breathing heavily and squinting against the sun and Mickey finds himself realizing he is made of things he cannot ever have, “You know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?”

Of course Mickey remembers. His stomach flops at the mention of him.

“He wants me to sneak into his mansion and take all of his crap.”

“Really,” Mickey responds dryly, firing off another shot. He doesn’t want Ian to keep talking about him, “Hi-larious.”

“Can’t get it himself,” Ian continues, as if Mickey cares. And the worst part is that he thinks maybe he does — he cares about everything this alien-looking ginger has to say and he hates it and he can never, ever get enough of it, of him, of Ian, “Divorce. Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey fires shots at the ground by Ian’s head where he’s crawling under some boards. He’s remembering seeing them at that bar in Boystown, out in the heat and in the sun and in public, cracking jokes and living a life Mickey can only watch from behind glass, from behind bars. Fuck that old guy for getting handed on a silver platter what Mickey so desperately craves but cannot have. Not just Ian — freedom. Though Mickey thinks they’re one in the same these days.

“Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?! Fuck.” Ian shouts up at him, dragging himself up off the ground.

“Bring my cousins?” Mickey asks, refusing to look at him. Every time he does he sees them together and wishes that it had been him, sun-drunk and laughing and free by his side.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs.

“‘Aight, I’m in,” Mickey fires off another shot. He’s angry at Ian for nothing other than exercising his complete right to see other people since they weren’t really together anyway, he’s angry at that old ass man for being able to go out for drinks with him, touch him, kiss him, and most of all he’s angry at himself.

He feels broken for wanting him. He feels broken for not being able to be brave enough to admit that he wants him. He gets cut on his own self-hatred any direction he turns.

“I dunno what you see in that geriatric viagroid,” he says, forcing himself to meet Ian’s gaze, if for a brief moment.

“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian says nonchalantly, looking up at Mickey. It’s obvious how much he’s been working out. His shoulders are hard and defined, his chest chiseled through the dark green of his military shirt. Mickey feels the familiar sting of contempt rising in his throat and fires off two more shots.

He can’t buy him anything, let alone room service. The fuck kind of response is that? More than anything, it annoys Mickey because he knows it isn’t really true. He’s bullshitting him, and that gets to him more than Ted or Ned or Fred or whatever the hell is name is ever could. He knows he’s not that superficial. Sure, he doesn’t doubt those are nice bonuses, but he knows there’s more to it than that.

He knows Ian. He knows Ian and he wishes that didn’t have to mean he loves him, but it does. He doesn’t understand how anyone could know Ian and not love him. But he’s not quite ready to admit that yet, least of all to himself.

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me,” Ian adds.

Ah. There it is.

His world has become a breathing thing with Ian in it. Before it was stagnant, stale, drowning. It has become a beast with teeth that threatens to tear him from the careful scaffolding he has built around the most fragile parts of his life.

If he kisses him, then everything he fears he is will be true.

Some dumb fuckin’ fag.

So Mickey brings his cousins later that evening and doesn’t stop thinking about Ian’s comment for the rest of the day. The van ride is full of loud music and rolled down windows that let in the warm, fresh summer air, and Iggy and Colin are endlessly bickering and hitting each other in the back of the car.

“Can you assholes quiet down when we get closer? You’re gonna wake up the old lady and everyone else in the goddamn neighbourhood before we even roll in the fuckin’ driveway,” Mickey says, swatting at them from where he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ian glances his way with an amused smile that Mickey only just catches when he settles back. He grins in return around the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Oh hey, pass one?” Ian asks, holding out his hand. Mickey’s about to give him one before a car speeds around a corner and almost T-bones the side of the van. Ian’s hand snaps back to the wheel to swerve out of the way, and Mickey drops the cigarette to the floor of the van in all the commotion.

“Asshole, watch it!” Ian exclaims as he uselessly flips off the car that’s now long gone down the road. Mickey lets out a guffaw of a laugh and abandons handing him the lost cigarette in favour of placing his own half-smoked one right between Ian’s lips.

The intimacy of the action doesn’t strike him until he’s nudging the cigarette against his mouth and his eyes are tracing the outline of his lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath against his tattooed knuckles. The raw familiarity of the action and the fact that Mickey’s own lips had just been on the cigarette that’s now resting on the edge of Ian’s mouth has his heart racing so quickly he can feel it in his chest like a ton of bricks. Ian casts him a side-glance out of the corner of his eye as he parts his lips to accept it. Mickey takes his hand away and clears his throat, glancing at the rear-view mirror to an oblivious Colin and Iggy.

“Thanks,” Ian mumbles, remembering himself as he snaps out of whatever it had been that passed between them just now.

Mickey wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’d tried fucking girls and had been less turned on than he was just now doing nothing other than placing his cigarette in Ian’s mouth.

Ian pulls into the drive minutes later, cigarette since burned through and discarded out the window. Mickey tries not to feel the absence of it as though it were his own lips against his and not just the ghost of them stained onto the cigarette.

Colin drags open the side door and hops out with Iggy, zipping open a duffel bag full of guns. Mickey’s grateful for the distraction, for the absolute focus violence requires that he hopes will shove his desire to do something as stupid as kiss Ian out of his head.

“Hey! Whoa, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there,” Ian says, brow furrowed as he looks at Mickey.

Trust Gallagher to be the defender of drunk old ladies. Mickey bites at his lip, trying and failing to ignore the way his chest swells with adoration at Ian’s request. Soft motherfucker. He’s right, though — any unnecessary violence and this could be a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Plus, he’d rather not piss off his only and best friend. He grabs the guns back from his cousins, much to their disappointment, and makes off toward the house.

He hadn’t woken up this morning thinking that today would be the day he’d kiss Ian. Hell, even now he’s sure that if he thinks about it any more he’ll chicken out and never kiss him at all. Mickey Milkovich, with the F-U-C-K U-U-P knuckles, who wears dirt and a scowl like they’re permanent accessories, is going to kiss Ian Gallagher, the freckled boy who protects drunk old ladies and smiles at him like he hangs the damn stars. He figures he was about to storm into an old lady’s house brandishing firearms without second thought or fright. Is kissing someone really that much more terrifying?

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But there’s nothing between them but the van and Mickey’s fear. And fuck the fear. Fuck it. 

He can pretend that he kisses him for no other reason than to prove a point, than to fulfill some implied dare. 

At the end of the day, he kisses him because he wants to. 

He kisses him because he likes him. 

He kisses him because he loves him.

Mickey’s heart is racing so badly he feels that he might throw up and well, what an impression that would leave. Every part of him is shaking as he turns and takes one step, two steps, pulls himself into the van and…

His lips are against Ian’s. They’re so much softer than he’d imagined (and he had imagined, often) and warm and Mickey can feel the breath from his nose against his own face. He tastes like smoke and freedom and something sweet Mickey can’t place -- a fucking Snickers bar? -- but loves the taste of anyway.

His brain short-circuits. He lingers longer than he had intended to, but it’s real and it’s better than he ever thought it could be. He’d kissed Sarah Perkins on a dare back in 7th grade and he’d gargled vodka afterwards to wash his mouth out.

He’d thought himself broken for it just not feeling right. But this…this feels right. Ian makes him feel right. He had expected, hoped even maybe, that it would feel wrong. That he would kiss him and feel as though he had done something terrible, something worse than stealing from an old lady’s home, but if it does he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

On his tongue, in his touch, with his laugh, Ian has given him the vocabulary to understand himself. To put a name to feelings mostly only understood in the illuminating glory of hindsight.

He’s spent his whole life outside of himself. Is this what it is to know yourself? Is this what it is for everything to suddenly make sense? He isn’t allowed soft things. He isn’t allowed this.

But here he is anyway.

And the world spins on.

He wants to kiss him again and again and again but he remembers his cousins in the house and what he suspects was probably less than five seconds feels like an eternity and Ian’s lips are starting to respond and move and is that his hand starting to lift to touch him? oh shit what if they come back to get him and this is what they walk in on and --

He pulls back and retreats as quickly as he’d arrived, throwing up a middle finger at Ian. Afraid to kiss him, Mickey’s ass.

Fuck he thinks as he runs back to the house, and can’t think much else but fuckfuckfuck, every inch of him charged and shaking and electric.

“Forgot somethin’,” he says breathlessly to the two boys who are, as it turns out, barely paying him any mind as they bicker between themselves about how they’re going to manage picking up a cabinet heavier than the two of them combined. Mickey’s not listening to them as they end up dropping it to split up and tackle smaller bait.

He grins wickedly to himself. He did it. Mickey goddamn Milkovich made a choice that wasn’t about pain or hurt or violence. He’d made a choice that was his and his alone and it was soft. Mickey Milkovich could choose to be soft, and gentle, and maybe even caring.

And if he can kiss Ian Gallagher? He can do anything.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

      After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

        "As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

        "What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

        "Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

        Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

        "But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

        Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

        "If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

        "And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

        "Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

        "In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

        Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

        "Promise me."

        It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

        Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

        "You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

        Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

        "Done."

        She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

        Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

        "It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

        "Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

        He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

        Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

        "Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

        "My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal        

         Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

         "When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"        

         "It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"        

         Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.        

         "Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"        

         Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.        

         "I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:       

          'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

        Claire reached for her glass again and drank.        

         "What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida        

         "How did you react to that?"        

         "Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

         Claire paused for a moment, then she went on:                  "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘          I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.”                  Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.        

         "Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."        

         "How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?”          "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it."                   "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?"          "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio         Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.        

         "Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific."          "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research.                  "You did your own research?"                  Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her.          "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week."          She paused for a moment.          "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue."          Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue.          "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials."          A fine smile appeared on Groide's face.          "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes."          Claire took a deep breath.          "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.”          To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels          "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian."          Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside.          "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data."          "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."        

         "Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?"          "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie.          "Certainly."          He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.