#Nora needs a nap

[bnhabadass]

missing my tumblr and discord friends who kept me sane from the months of september 2019 to april 2021. if any of you are reading this...what fandoms are you in so i can unceremoniously reinsert myself into your lives 👉👈

[tumsa]

oh my god the sunshine court came out in april and i had no idea?????????? i am screaming crying throwing up because i was ready to die for jean to get some happiness and nora wrote a whole book (and more is coming?) omg ahaha goodbye sleep

[missmaymay13]

whiskers - l.hughes x fem!oc

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l.hughes x fem!oc | 10k

summary: whiskers was a quiet oasis for those who needed it. a place where everything else in the world just disappeared for a moment and you were able to just. breathe. what happens when a certain new jersey devil stumbles upon this place and can't leave?

masterlist

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The scent of freshly brewed espresso clung to Mallory White’s sweaters like a signature. No matter how many times she washed them, the faint aroma of dark roast and steamed milk lingered in the fibers, a soft, constant reminder of where she spent most of her waking hours. Whiskers—her aunt’s pride and joy—was tucked into a quiet street corner just off Ferry Street in Newark. It was the kind of place you only found if you were looking for it, or if you needed it in a way you couldn’t explain. A cutesy, whimsical blend of mismatched armchairs, crowded bookshelves, twinkle lights strung haphazardly across the ceiling, and window seats that always seemed to catch the best kind of sunlight. Cats draped themselves lazily over the tops of couches, curled in the corners of shelves, or pawed at the steam curling up from customer mugs. Every one of them was adoptable. Some stayed a day, some stayed months, but all of them came to know Mallory’s gentle voice and steady hands.

She’d been working there part-time for years, ever since her aunt offered her the job to help cover books and groceries while she finished school. Full-time student, part-time barista, amateur therapist to half the neighborhood regulars—Mallory made it work. She always had. Psychology fascinated her, not just the clinical definitions or brain chemistry, but the little things. The way people picked at napkins when they were nervous, how eyes darted when a lie teetered on someone’s tongue, the unconscious rituals of grief, of joy, of healing. People told her everything. She had a face for it—open, calm, curious without being invasive. The customers who wandered in during slow mornings often left with more than caffeine. Confessions, vent sessions, old wounds cracked open over chai lattes. Mallory listened the way the cats did—quietly, patiently, without judgment.

Her life was quiet, a patchwork of routines and late-night study sessions, paper deadlines, and morning coffee grinds. She lived in a tiny walk-up two blocks from Whiskers, a third-floor studio with crooked hardwood floors and plants crowding every windowsill. Her rescue tabby, Clementine, ruled the place like a queen, sprawled across textbooks or wedged herself into the sink just to make a point. Mallory found comfort in the familiar—her regulars, the way the sunlight always hit the front window just right around 4 PM, the hum of soft jazz that played through the speakers when the place began to wind down for the night. She had her favorite mugs, her favorite playlists, her favorite pens for annotating psychology textbooks. Everything in her world had a place, a rhythm. Even the chaos felt choreographed.

Newark had never seemed small to Mallory, even though she’d never left it for long. She’d traveled a bit—trips to Boston for conferences, the occasional weekend in Philly with friends—but New Jersey was in her bones. It was in the cadence of her voice, the way she knew what joint served the best pizza at 2 AM, the way she rolled her eyes when people asked why she hadn’t moved to the city yet. Newark was home. It was messy and overlooked and constantly changing, but so was she. Her childhood was rooted in its cracked sidewalks, her adolescence mapped across its diners and bookstores, her adulthood unfolding in the scent of espresso and the soft, low purr of content cats.

Whiskers was more than just a job. It was her second skin. She knew every creaky floorboard and which chair the orange tabby preferred for his midday naps. Her aunt, Nora, had turned the place into a refuge, and Mallory—without even realizing it—had become part of the soul of it. She knew when a regular was having a bad day by the way they stirred their coffee, knew how to distract a lonely heart with a stack of books and a napping kitten. On weekends, families came in just to sit and laugh and maybe fall in love with a pair of green eyes and a twitching tail. Mallory floated through it all with practiced ease, pouring lattes and restocking biscotti, recommending paperbacks and refilling water bowls.

Lately though, there’d been a tug in her chest. A sense that something—or someone—was coming. Something she couldn’t name. Maybe it was graduation looming closer, the unknown pressing in now that her final semester had started. Maybe it was the weight of a future she hadn't quite mapped out yet, pressing against the edges of her carefully ordered life. Or maybe it was the way Clementine had taken to sitting in the window every night, watching the sidewalk below like she was waiting for something. Her tail would flick, her eyes fixed, as if she knew something Mallory didn’t. It made her uneasy, but also… hopeful.

Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was everything.

Whatever it was, it was on its way.

__

Jack Hughes was not having a good season. On paper, the numbers weren’t bad—solid stats, some strong games, the kind of season that didn’t raise alarms. But under the surface, it was a different story. The pressure was relentless, an invisible weight pressing down on him every time he stepped onto the ice. Every game felt like a test he couldn’t afford to fail. Produce. Lead. Win. Repeat. There was no room for off nights, no space for mistakes. The joy—the spark that used to fuel him—was flickering dangerously low.

So that night, with the sky heavy and gray over Newark, Jack laced up his sneakers and left his apartment without a destination in mind. He needed to breathe. No fans. No expectations. Just air. The city buzzed around him—cars, voices, the clatter of life continuing at its own pace. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and walked, letting his mind wander, his steps aimless but searching.

That’s when he saw it.

Tucked away between a boarded-up corner store and a laundromat with flickering lights, there was a shopfront Jack swore hadn’t been there before. The windows glowed with soft amber light, and the sign above the door read simply: Whiskers. It was quaint, inviting, oddly out of place in the gritty stretch of street. A place that felt… safe. Like the Room of Requirement from Harry Potter if it catered to coffee snobs and cat lovers instead of stressed-out wizards.

He pushed open the door, and immediately, the scent of espresso and vanilla filled his lungs. Warmth wrapped around him like a blanket fresh from the dryer. The bell above the door chimed softly, and before he could fully take in the space, a cat—an elegant gray tabby with white paws and an air of dignified authority—padded over to greet him. She sat in front of him, blinking slowly, tail flicking once.

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” Jack muttered, crouching slightly as if unsure how to proceed. The cat continued to stare, unimpressed but accepting. Missy, as he’d later learn, had that effect on people.

Jack stood up and glanced around, wide-eyed. The place looked like a Pinterest board come to life—string lights, overstuffed chairs, cat beds tucked in every corner, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that made the air feel thick with stories. It was the last thing he expected to find on a quiet walk meant to clear his head. And yet, it felt like exactly where he was supposed to be.

He thought he was alone until he spotted her.

In the back corner of the café, nestled into the cushions of a sun-drenched window seat, sat a girl with strawberry-blonde hair pulled into a loose, practical knot. A half-dozen cats lounged around her like they’d claimed her as one of their own. One lay across her lap, another perched on the back of her chair, while two more batted lazily at the dangling strings of her hoodie. Her eyes were glued to the screen of her laptop, fingers tapping away in focused concentration.

Mallory White glanced up at the sound of the doorbell, expecting a regular, or maybe someone looking for directions. What she saw instead was a tall brunette standing near the entrance like he wasn’t sure if he’d stumbled into a dream or a fever-induced hallucination. His eyes were wide, darting around the shop, lips slightly parted in bewilderment. He looked both exhausted and in awe.

“First time?” she called out, voice light but kind. She already knew the answer.

Jack turned toward her, nodding slowly. “Yeah…”

She smiled, something soft blooming in her chest. There was always something beautiful about watching people find Whiskers for the first time—especially the ones who clearly needed it. They came in burdened, distracted, lost. And they stayed, because something about the place told them they were allowed to rest. To breathe.

And for Jack Hughes, that was exactly what was happening.

__

Jack approached the counter slowly, his gaze sweeping over the handwritten chalkboard menu, though his eyes weren’t really reading. The place still didn’t feel real. Like he’d slipped into some alternate version of Newark, one where life moved slower and smelled like cinnamon.

Mallory stood behind the counter now, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a cat—Oscar—draped around her shoulders like a fuzzy scarf. She gave Jack a smile that didn’t force anything out of him, just offered something steady. Comfort without pressure.

“What can I get you?” she asked, pulling a mug down from the shelf.

He blinked, momentarily thrown. “Uh. Just… coffee? I think?”

Mallory bit back a grin. “Bold order.”

Jack laughed softly—an unintentional sound, like it startled him. “Right. Sorry. I’m more of a… dog guy.”

Oscar meowed in protest from her shoulders. Mallory feigned offense. “You can’t just walk into a cat café and say something like that.”

“I know, I know,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “I’m already on thin ice, aren’t I?”

“Extremely,” she teased, but her tone was still light, welcoming. “Lucky for you, the cats are forgiving. Mostly. Missy already gave you a pass, so you’re basically in.”

Jack watched her pour the coffee with a kind of reverence, like the ritual of it was grounding him. Something simple. Something normal.

Mallory set the mug in front of him, her voice dipping into something softer. “You look like you needed to find this place.”

He looked up, startled—not because she was wrong, but because she’d said it out loud.

He didn’t answer right away. He just nodded, lips pressing into a tight line before he picked up the cup and took a slow sip.

Mallory didn’t press. She just moved around him with quiet ease, giving him space while staying close enough to offer more if he wanted it. Eventually, he found a seat by the window. The same one she’d been curled into earlier, now cleared of cats. Like they knew he needed it.

The hours slipped by.

They started talking slowly, in fits and starts—about nothing at first. The coffee. The cats. The weather. But Mallory had a way of asking questions that made Jack want to answer. And she listened—not like she was waiting for her turn to speak, but like she actually cared about the in-between moments. The pauses. The sighs.

Without realizing how or when, Jack started to talk. Really talk.

About the season. About the pressure. The weight of being expected to be everything, every night. About how he couldn’t even remember the last time he played just for fun. How even on good days, he felt like he was chasing something he couldn’t name. He didn’t mention who he was. He didn’t have to. Mallory never asked.

She just sat across from him, legs curled under her, sipping tea and nodding quietly. When he stopped, she’d offer a thought, something gentle and reflective that didn’t feel like advice but helped anyway.

It was effortless. Unscripted. Safe.

And somehow, in the middle of that cozy café with jazz humming low and cats circling their feet, Jack Hughes—hockey star, exhausted athlete, public figure—let himself breathe.

When he finally looked at the time, hours had passed. The sky outside had gone from moody gray to a soft indigo. The shop was even quieter now, a few lingering customers curling up in corners with books and content kittens. Mallory stood behind the counter again, cleaning up with a rhythm born from years of closing shifts and late-night routines.

Jack stood, stretching like he was waking from a dream.

“Thanks,” he said, voice low but real. “For… I don’t know. This.”

Mallory looked over, smiling like she knew exactly what he meant. “Come back whenever. Whiskers shows up when people need it—but once you find it, it’s easier to return.”

Jack nodded, lingering in the doorway for a second. Then he stepped out into the cool night air.

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled.

Not for a fan. Not for a camera. Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

__ Jack didn’t plan on going back to Whiskers.

Not really. It had felt like a one-time thing—some serendipitous stop on a bad day. But the next time the pressure swelled again, sitting on his chest like armor he couldn’t get off, his feet led him there without thinking. And when he opened the door, the same warm scent of coffee and cat fur greeted him like an old friend.

No one batted an eye when he came in. Missy trotted over to him again, dignified as ever, and gave his shoes a once-over before returning to her perch by the window. Mallory was already there, at her usual table in the corner, laptop open, hair pulled back, surrounded by open textbooks and cats who insisted on lying across her notes. She looked up when the bell chimed and gave him a soft, familiar smile. Like she’d been expecting him.

From then on, he became a regular.

He didn’t always talk. Some days, he didn’t even get coffee. He just… existed. Found the seat by the window and sat with whatever book he was working through, or nothing at all. Sometimes he stared out the glass, watched the city move in its chaotic rhythm while inside, everything was quiet. Safe. Still.

There were days he came after a loss, his body heavy and tired. Days he came before a game, needing to ground himself. And days where he just needed a reminder that there was more to the world than headlines and ice time. That there were places where no one needed anything from him.

Mallory didn’t pry. That was what he liked most. She always greeted him with that same smile, then returned to her work. Her energy was calm, a quiet presence that didn’t demand attention. He learned she was finishing up a psych degree, that she helped run the café with her aunt, that she was the kind of person who read three books at once and always had pens tucked behind both ears. He also learned she had a cat named Clementine who hated car rides and a soft spot for vanilla scones.

Their conversations were scattered and slow. Shared glances over their mugs. A dry joke exchanged when a customer knocked over a display. Quiet chuckles when a kitten decided Jack’s lap was the best nap spot. But mostly, they sat in silence.

The kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.

Jazz played low in the background. Mallory’s keys clicked against her laptop. The espresso machine hissed softly from the bar. A cat would leap from one chair to another. And Jack, for the first time in months, felt okay not saying a word. Just breathing. Just being.

That bond—unspoken but steady—grew in the spaces between the stillness. In the shared routines. She would slide him a drink without asking. He’d bring her a croissant from a bakery he found downtown. Neither of them acknowledged the softness curling between them. It just existed. Natural. Unrushed.

Whiskers became his sanctuary. A place untouched by expectation or fame. A place where he wasn’t Jack Hughes, hockey star.

Just Jack.

And in that little corner café with cats lounging in the sun and Mallory humming under her breath as she typed, Jack found something he hadn’t realized he’d been searching for:

Peace.

__

It didn’t take long for Luke to notice the shift.

At first, it was small things. Jack stopped snapping at reporters after games. He didn’t spend as much time glued to his phone, doom-scrolling between practices. He started showing up early to workouts. Smiling more. Laughing, even. And not the hollow, media-trained kind of laugh either—the real kind, the kind that lit up his face and softened the edges of his exhaustion.

And then came the disappearing.

Luke would be halfway through a lazy off-day, sprawled across the couch, and Jack would toss on a hoodie, grab his keys, and say, “I’m heading out for a bit.”

“To where?”

“Nowhere. Just… around.”

Luke arched an eyebrow. “That’s not a place, Jack.”

“I’m just going for a walk. Or maybe a drive.”

He never offered more than that. No details. No specifics. Just vague, noncommittal answers. And then he’d come back three hours later like someone had hit reset on his entire nervous system—relaxed, clear-eyed, a little too peaceful for someone playing in a pressure cooker like the NHL.

It was starting to freak Luke out.

One afternoon, after a tough practice and an even tougher media scrum, Jack came home humming. Humming. He dropped his bag, cracked open a bottle of water, and leaned in the doorway with the kind of serenity usually reserved for people on vacation or heavily medicated.

That was the final straw.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “Are you doing drugs?”

Jack choked on his water, coughing so hard he had to lean forward, hand braced on the wall. “What? Are you crazy? No! Jesus.”

“I don’t know, man!” Luke threw up his hands. “You disappear for hours with no explanation and come back looking like you just won a million dollars. Or just got laid. Or both.”

Jack just laughed, which only made Luke more suspicious.

“So where do you go?” he pressed.

“Nowhere.”

“Stop saying that. You can’t just ‘nowhere’ your way into this weird Zen state. I know you. You're like a caged animal half the time and now you're… this.”

Jack shrugged, trying to hide the way his lips twitched like they wanted to smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

“If it wasn’t a big deal, you’d tell me.”

That part wasn’t wrong. Jack could tell Luke. He probably should. But there was something about Whiskers he wasn’t ready to share yet. Something about that cozy little corner of the world that felt untouched by everything else in his life. He wasn’t ready to let anyone else in. Not even Luke.

So he gave another half-assed answer.

“Just a spot I found. Good coffee. That’s all.”

Luke squinted at him like he was trying to see through the lie. “You don’t even drink that much coffee.”

“Maybe I do now.”

Luke groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch. “You’re so annoying. Just admit you’re seeing someone.”

Jack didn’t respond.

He didn’t have to respond. His silence said enough.

Luke sat up slowly. “Wait. Are you?”

Jack finally met his gaze and smirked. “Didn’t say that.”

“You are! Oh my god, you’re totally sneaking off to see someone. That’s why you’ve been all floaty and weird.”

“There’s nothing weird about it.”

“Nothing weird about being in love with a barista and hiding her from your own brother?”

“I’m not—" Jack paused. "—in love.”

Luke raised both brows.

Jack shoved him with a pillow.

“Shut up.”

Luke grinned, already pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna figure this out.”

“No, you’re not,” Jack said, and for once, his tone was firm. “Not yet.”

There was a pause.

And then Luke looked at him, just a little softer. “Okay. I’ll drop it. For now.”

Because even he could see it—whatever Jack had found, it was helping. It was healing something.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

_

The truth?

Jack had fallen in love.

He hadn’t said the words out loud. Not even to himself. But it was there—in the way his feet carried him to Whiskers without hesitation, in the way he looked at her like she held all the quiet parts of the world in her palms. In the way just being near her was enough to make his chest loosen and his breathing slow. He wasn’t ready to explain it to anyone, not even Luke. Especially not Luke.

So he kept it to himself. Kept her to himself.

Until that night.

It was late. The apartment looked like the aftermath of a storm. Hockey sticks leaned haphazardly against the wall, gear dumped across the floor in a way that suggested frustration more than forgetfulness. A half-empty protein shake sweated on the coffee table beside a crumpled game schedule. Luke slammed the front door so hard that a picture frame rattled on the wall. He didn’t say anything right away, just paced—his strides tight, erratic, jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

The Devils were out of playoff contention. And it had gutted him.

Jack watched from the hallway, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn’t sure if now was the time to step in or stay out. Luke didn’t get mad like this—not usually. He was intense, sure. Emotional, absolutely. But this kind of fury? It felt heavy. Personal.

Jack didn't ask. He just said, “Get in the car.”

Luke frowned, thrown. “What?”

“I’m not asking. Just come with me.”

Something in Jack’s voice silenced him. A low, steady kind of calm that didn’t leave room for argument. So Luke grabbed a hoodie, still in his joggers and sneakers, and followed his brother out the door.

The drive was quiet. Newark passed them in streaks of streetlight and shadow, the car a cocoon of tension and unspoken words. Jack didn’t say where they were going. Luke didn’t ask. The only sound was the occasional click of the turn signal and the low hum of the tires against pavement.

When they pulled up to the quiet corner of the city, the streets were quieter. Whiskers sat tucked beneath a canopy of trees, its windows glowing golden against the dark like a secret waiting to be shared. The string lights on the awning flickered gently, casting soft halos across the brick sidewalk.

Luke squinted. “A café?”

Jack was already out of the car.

The second the bell above the door chimed, Luke was hit with a wall of warmth—coffee, cinnamon, faint vanilla. The soft lilt of jazz floated through the space. Cats lounged on cushions and curled in baskets tucked between bookshelves and furniture. Mismatched chairs, faded rugs, low lighting. The place looked like it had been pulled straight from a dream.

Behind the counter stood a girl. She had soft strawberry-blonde curls tied back loosely and wore a slouchy sweater that had definitely seen a few too many cat naps. A content gray tabby nestled in her arms like royalty.

Luke slowed his steps, eyes flicking from her to Jack. Was this her? The girl Jack had been seeing? She was gorgeous, effortlessly so, and clearly comfortable in this magical, cat-infested café. Luke felt a small, unexpected flicker of disappointment. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it felt too… obvious. Too perfect.

Then Jack walked right past her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jack said with a grin, reaching for the cat in her arms—the regal, unbothered Missy.

Mallory handed the cat over with a knowing smile.

Jack cradled Missy like she was made of glass, his entire demeanor shifting into something almost unrecognizable—softer, lighter, like someone had peeled all the pressure off his shoulders. He crossed the room, sank into his usual corner chair, and opened a book, Missy curling into his lap like she’d been waiting.

Luke stared.

That was the girl?

Jack didn’t even glance up. Just scratched behind Missy’s ears and exhaled like this was exactly where he was meant to be.

Then a voice called out, warm and curious.

“Hi J! Who’s this?”

Luke turned—and that’s when everything tilted.

Mallory was standing a few feet away now, closer. And suddenly, Luke saw her clearly. Her eyes, a shade of green that didn’t quite make sense. Her voice, melodic and kind. Her smile—soft, genuine, like she’d known you forever.

She extended a hand. “I’m Mallory. You must be the brother.”

“Yeah. Uh. Luke.”

She smiled and motioned for him to follow her to a small table near the window. He did.

And something shifted.

Mallory had a way of talking that didn’t feel like talking. It felt like being. Like she saw people the way they didn’t even see themselves. She asked about the game without pity, about his season without poking at wounds. Her voice was smooth, steady, laced with humor and grace. When she laughed, it was this low, genuine sound that settled something deep in his gut.

He didn’t even notice the time passing. Didn’t realize he was leaning in, actually smiling, until he caught his own reflection in the window and barely recognized himself.

Somewhere in the background, Jack flipped a page and shifted Missy on his lap.

He hadn’t said a word since they walked in.

Because he didn’t need to.

Whiskers did what it always did.

And Mallory—Mallory did the rest.

Luke leaned back, eyes still on her, and exhaled the weight of the entire season.

He got it now.

He really got it.

__

Luke started going back to Whiskers.

At first, it was innocent enough. Just a second visit. Then a third. Then one day he realized he was typing the address into his GPS without thinking. The café had imprinted itself on him—the warmth, the quiet, the smell of cinnamon and fresh espresso. But more than anything, it was her.

Mallory.

She was always there when he arrived, tucked into her favorite spot with a mug in one hand and her laptop open in front of her. Sometimes she was surrounded by cats, sometimes it was just her and the quiet music humming through the café. She always looked up when he came in. Always smiled. And Luke… yeah, he felt that.

Where Jack disappeared into Whiskers like it was a sanctuary, a place to go silent and still, Luke leaned into the space differently. He didn’t want to disappear—he wanted to see. To learn. To ask questions. And more than anything, he wanted to understand the girl who made a place like this feel like a refuge.

“Back again?” Mallory asked one morning, raising a brow as Luke approached the counter.

He grinned. “Addicted. To the coffee. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” She handed him a mug without asking what he wanted. She already knew.

He sat at the bar that day, watching her move through her rhythm—refilling the pastry case, whispering something to one of the cats, rearranging a stack of well-loved paperbacks. Everything she did had intention, but never felt rushed. She moved like someone who had nowhere else to be, even though Luke knew she probably had a dozen deadlines waiting.

“What are you studying?” he asked after a while, casually sipping his coffee.

She looked over, a little surprised. “Psychology.”

“Like… therapy?”

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Something like that. I want to work with athletes, actually. Mental performance, pressure management, that kind of thing.”

Luke blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t expect that.”

“Didn’t peg me as someone who understands sports?” she teased.

“No, I didn’t peg you as someone who understands me,” he said, quieter than he meant to.

She looked at him for a long moment. And then she smiled. “Maybe I do.”

That was how it began.

He started showing up more often. Sometimes in the mornings, grabbing a corner table while she worked behind the bar. Sometimes in the late afternoons, when the light poured through the front window and caught the gold in her hair. They started talking more. Long conversations that drifted from childhood memories to late-night game rituals to their favorite kinds of cereal.

She asked questions. Real ones. And Luke found himself answering, actually wanting to answer. He told her about growing up in a hockey family, about Michigan, about the pressure of always being someone’s little brother. She listened like she hadn’t heard those things a thousand times before. Like they meant something.

And sometimes, she talked too.

She told him about Whiskers—how her aunt had started it as a little dream project, and how she’d helped build it into what it was. She talked about losing her parents young, about how her aunt had raised her, about how cats were easier to understand than people sometimes. She laughed when he confessed he was still a dog person, and even more when Missy curled up in his lap for the first time anyway.

Luke didn’t realize how often he was showing up until Jack called him out one night.

“You’re there more than I am,” he said, lounging on the couch with his book, Missy sprawled across his chest like a queen.

“Maybe I just like cats,” Luke offered.

Jack didn’t even look up. “Maybe you like Mallory.”

Luke didn’t respond.

He didn’t have to.

__

It took Luke a few weeks—okay, maybe closer to a month—to finally ask Mallory out. Not because he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to. But there was something about her that made him nervous in a way he wasn’t used to. She was grounded, graceful in her own soft chaos, and totally unaffected by who he was. She didn’t care about NHL stats or jersey numbers. She cared about whether he slept well, whether the cats had taken to him yet, whether he’d been kind to himself that week.

She saw through him, and he liked it.

So one quiet Thursday morning, when Whiskers was still waking up and the smell of cinnamon rolls hadn’t yet left the oven, Luke leaned on the counter and said, almost casually, “Hey, do you wanna grab dinner sometime? Like, just us?”

Mallory’s eyes lifted from her tablet, a smile already forming. “Like a date?”

He nodded. “Yeah. A date.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’d love that.”

He didn’t dare take her to a coffee shop. No way. That felt too close to home, too close to Jack’s territory. Besides, it would be weird to take a barista to drink coffee, right?

So he went for the most classic, chaotic New Jersey move he could think of.

Pizza.

He picked her up that Saturday night wearing a hoodie and a nervous grin, and drove her twenty minutes outside the city to a tiny brick oven place tucked between a car wash and a liquor store. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was his spot. The one he’d found during his first year with the Devils. The kind of place where the booths were squeaky and the paper plates were flimsy, but the sauce was perfect and the crust had that exact amount of char only Jersey could do right.

Mallory eyed the storefront with an arched brow. “You’re taking a Jersey native to your favorite pizza joint? That’s bold.”

“I know,” he grinned, opening the door for her. “You’re either gonna be really impressed or never speak to me again.”

To his immense relief, she was impressed.

They shared a pie—half pepperoni, half plain—over a checkered tablecloth and canned soda. And it was easy. So easy. The conversation flowed like it always did with her—effortless, rich with little revelations and teasing jokes. She told him about how she once tried to make her own dough and ended up with a flour explosion in her apartment. He told her about the time Jack got into a screaming match with their mom over pineapple on pizza.

She laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from the corner of her eyes.

But it wasn’t just the laughter. It was her. Luke couldn’t stop watching her. The way her eyes lit up when she told stories. The way she listened—really listened—when he spoke. The way she saw the world with this quiet sympathy that made everything feel less sharp. Less scary. It was… admirable. Magnetic. And it was messing him up, in the best way.

He drove her home, walked her to her door, and lingered there with both hands shoved in his pockets, heart thudding like it was trying to leap from his chest.

“I had a really good time,” she said, voice soft.

“Me too.”

And when she leaned up and kissed him—quick, but sure—Luke felt like the entire world tilted into place.

Later that night, after Jack had already passed out on the couch with Missy on his chest and a documentary droning in the background, Luke stepped out onto the tiny balcony with his phone and scrolled through his contacts.

He called Quinn.

“Hey, you good?” Quinn asked after the first ring. “You never call unless something’s wrong.”

“No, it’s not— It’s not bad. I just… needed to talk to you.”

There was a pause on the other end, then the familiar sound of Quinn settling into a chair. “Shoot.”

Luke rubbed a hand down his face. “I think I’m in love. Like… really in love.”

Quinn didn’t laugh. Not at first. Just let that sentence sit for a moment before replying.

“With the girl from the cat café?” he said knowingly.

Luke blinked. “How do you—?”

“Jack talks in his sleep,” Quinn deadpanned. “Apparently a lot about Missy. And someone named Mallory.”

Luke laughed, the tension breaking like a dam.

Quinn chuckled too, but his voice stayed gentle. “So you and Jack are both in love, huh? One with the barista. One with the cat.”

“Don’t say that,” Luke groaned. “It’s not like that.”

Quinn was quiet for a beat. “You really like her?”

“Yeah,” Luke admitted, his voice quieter now. “I like the way she sees people. Like they’re all worth knowing. Like nothing is ever too broken. I don’t know how to explain it… She makes everything quieter.”

There was a smile in Quinn’s voice when he replied, “Sounds like she’s your Whiskers.”

Luke let that sink in. Yeah. Yeah, maybe she was.

“And what do I do?” he asked, suddenly young and unsure.

Quinn didn’t hesitate. “You hold on to it. You show up for her, the way she shows up for everyone else. And you tell her. Not with flowers or grand gestures. Just… honestly. You tell her when you’re ready.”

Luke looked up at the sky, the stars faint through the city haze. “Thanks, Q.”

“Anytime, little bro.”

Luke hung up, slid his phone into his pocket, and stood there in the quiet.

In love. In awe. In it—completely.

And somehow, not scared at all.

__

For all the time Jack and Luke spent at Whiskers, it had taken a few weeks before they formally met Nora—the soul behind the café, the woman who’d built it from scratch and passed down her love for quiet corners, cat cuddles, and warm mugs to her niece.

Nora was soft-spoken, but fierce in the most gentle way. She wore chunky knit cardigans and always smelled faintly of peppermint oil and flour. She had this way of looking at people that made them want to sit down and tell her things—stories, secrets, fears. Mallory was clearly her mirror image in spirit, molded by kindness and quiet strength.

“She’s the reason this place exists,” Mallory had told Luke one evening, her voice soft as they watched Nora teach a young couple how to coax a shy kitten out from under the armchair. “And honestly… probably the reason I exist the way I do.”

Nora wasn’t just Mallory’s aunt. She was her anchor.

So when Luke’s phone rang late one night, vibrating loud and angry against the nightstand, he answered without hesitation.

Mallory’s name flashed on the screen.

He answered with a sleepy, “Hey, Mal?” but was met only by ragged breathing.

“Mallory?” he said again, now sitting up straight, tension lacing his voice. On the other end, she was sobbing—hysterical, broken sounds that Luke had never heard from her before.

He was instantly alert. “Mallory—what’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?”

But her words were tangled. Mumbled. Drenched in pain. Luke tried to focus, heart racing, trying to make sense of it.

Then, finally, through the tears: “Nora… she’s gone. Luke—she… she had a heart attack. They couldn’t—she—she didn’t make it.”

The words landed like ice water down his spine.

Without thinking, still holding the phone to his ear, Luke stumbled out of bed and crossed the hall. He shoved Jack’s shoulder once, then again, harder.

Jack startled awake, groggy and disoriented. “What the hell—?”

“Get up,” Luke said, his voice flat but shaking. “Something’s wrong.”

Jack sat up fast now, reading his brother’s face. The look in Luke’s eyes—he didn’t need more explanation.

“Mallory’s on the phone,” Luke said, his hand gripping the back of his neck. “It’s her aunt. Nora’s—she’s gone.”

Jack didn’t say a word. He just nodded, already pulling on sweatpants and grabbing his keys.

They didn’t speak in the car. Didn’t need to. The silence said enough.

When they got to the hospital, Mallory was sitting in one of those terrible plastic waiting chairs, curled into herself like she was trying to disappear. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot, her hands trembling in her lap. She looked so small. So un-Mallory. Like her light had flickered and gone out.

Luke approached slowly, kneeling down in front of her.

She looked up.

And then she broke.

She folded into him with a sob so raw it felt like it tore through the sterile white walls of the ER. Luke wrapped his arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other anchored around her waist. She clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

Jack sat quietly beside them, eyes glassy but steady. He didn’t speak. Just placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

Mallory had always been the one who knew what to say. Who had the right words at the right moment, the kind of comfort that wrapped around you like a blanket. But now?

Now she had none.

And Luke knew—this was the moment that mattered most. Because what do you do when the strongest person you know is suddenly falling apart?

You hold them.

You show up.

You say nothing, but stay anyway.

Hours passed in quiet fragments. Nurses came and went. The waiting room emptied. Mallory stayed curled against Luke, her tears dried but her eyes vacant. Luke stroked her back gently, murmuring things he didn’t even know he was saying—soft nothings, reminders that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

At some point, she whispered, “I don’t know how to do this without her.”

Luke tightened his hold.

“What would you say to me if it were the other way around?” he asked, voice low.

Mallory was quiet.

“You’d tell me it’s okay to fall apart. That I don’t have to be strong right now. That it’s okay to lean on someone. So lean on me.”

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t pull away either.

That was enough.

__

When the will was read, no one was surprised.

Nora had always made her intentions clear in the soft, matter-of-fact way only she could: Whiskers would belong to Mallory. It had been her safe place before it ever became her responsibility. The deed was signed over, fully paid off, wrapped in quiet generosity and love. No debts. No catches. Just a little corner of the world with her name on it now.

But standing behind the counter alone that first morning, Mallory felt twenty-two in a way she never had before.

The keys jingled in her hand as she unlocked the door, her reflection in the glass looking slightly too pale, slightly too tired. She could recite the opening checklist by heart. She knew how to balance the books, how to feed the cats, how to fold biscotti bags just right. But knowing and owning were two different things.

She was still a student. She was still grieving. And now, she was running a business.

Her older cousin, who had flown in from Oregon the moment the news hit, was the only reason she was holding it together at all. He’d taken over the official business side—taxes, inventory orders, payroll—and left Mallory to focus on keeping the doors open, the espresso flowing, and the regulars feeling like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Mallory pulled double shifts most days. Woke up at five to start the baking, stayed late after closing to do homework that never seemed to end. She hadn’t written a clean to-do list in weeks. The fridge at her apartment was empty. Clementine had started dragging her sock into the bed at night like a peace offering. And the exhaustion? It clung to her skin like sweat.

She didn’t complain, though. Because this place was hers now. And she had to make Nora proud.

Then one Thursday morning, after burning the muffins, forgetting to restock oat milk, and crying in the mop closet for twelve solid minutes, she stepped back behind the counter only to find two tall figures loitering near the espresso machine with entirely too much confidence.

“Morning, boss,” Luke said, already tying on one of the spare aprons.

Jack grinned beside him, flipping a bar towel over his shoulder. “We figured it’s time you trained us properly.”

Mallory blinked. “What?”

“You can’t get rid of us anyway,” Jack shrugged. “Might as well make us useful.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Luke was already setting up the grinder with perfect form. “I Googled it,” he said with a wink. “We’re basically professionals.”

“I don’t—guys, you don’t have to do this.”

“We want to,” Luke said, voice softer now. “Let us help.”

Mallory stared at them for a beat, her eyes glassy from more than just sleep deprivation. She could argue. She could pretend she had it all under control. But she didn’t.

And God, it felt good to let someone hold part of the weight.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing a third apron and tossing it at Jack. “But if you mess up the espresso, you’re on bathroom cleaning duty for a month.”

Jack caught it midair. “Deal.”

From that day forward, the Hughes brothers became part of the Whiskers crew.

Luke handled the register—charming customers, flirting with old ladies, remembering people’s orders like it was second nature. Jack took on espresso duty with laser focus, determined to master the art of a perfect pour-over. They bickered constantly over music playlists, tripped over sleeping cats, and oversteamed milk more times than anyone could count.

But it didn’t matter.

Because Mallory wasn’t alone anymore.

They filled the café with laughter again. With extra hands and clumsy help and early morning coffee runs. Luke took over breakfast duty some mornings so she could sleep an extra hour. Jack learned how to do inventory. Mallory caught them reading How to Manage a Small Business for Dummies one night after closing and pretended not to cry.

Whiskers stayed open. And somehow, through the chaos and grief and spilled oat milk, it thrived.

Mallory often found herself pausing in the middle of it all—hands dusted in flour, hair pinned back, cats weaving through legs—just to watch the two of them. Luke flirting with a regular who was at least seventy. Jack trying to argue with Missy about which stool he was allowed to sit on.

She’d never imagined she’d love two hockey players like this. Like family. Like breath and comfort and sunrise.

The truth was, she didn’t just love the Hughes boys.

She needed them.

And they showed up for her in every way that mattered.

__

It had been weeks—months, even—since Mallory had a proper night off. The kind where she wasn’t multitasking between homework and baking, or replying to emails with flour on her cheek, or falling asleep on the café couch with Clementine purring on her chest and the sound of the espresso machine still buzzing in her ears.

Sure, Jack and Luke helped. Constantly. Relentlessly. But they were still professional athletes. There were away games, long practices, press responsibilities. And Mallory, in her ever selfless way, refused to let them take on more than they already were. Especially since they refused to accept even a dime in return for the hours they clocked in as honorary baristas.

So Luke Hughes made a plan.

A real one. An honest-to-God, no-half-measures, operation-code-named “Date Night.”

He got Jack on board first. That was easy. Jack was all in, especially when he heard it involved breaking and entering—technically—with the emergency key Mallory had given them months ago.

Then came the cousin. Mallory’s older cousin, who had become the business brain of Whiskers, gave them the official stamp of approval. As long as nothing caught fire and all the cats survived, they had a green light.

And finally, the recruits.

By midnight, the lights inside Whiskers flicked on one by one, the glow pooling across the dark sidewalk like a secret. Inside, a sight to behold: a squad of confused but eager New Jersey Devils players, sleeves rolled up and eyes wide as they stared at coffee beans, brewing guides, and—most intimidating of all—Missy, perched atop the counter like a very judgmental manager.

“Okay,” Luke clapped his hands. “If we can run power plays, we can run a damn espresso machine.”

“Speak for yourself,” Curtis muttered, already holding the milk steamer backwards.

Nico Hischier, ever the captain and certified coffee enthusiast, took his training very seriously. He had a notebook. He had questions. He had already pulled three sample shots to get his “ratios right.”

Jack, self-declared floor manager for the evening, barked out orders with Missy balanced like a loaf of bread in one arm. “Dawson, front of house. Jesper, you’re bussing tables. Don’t look at me like that—you’re tall, you can carry stuff. Nico, stop trying to make foam flowers and listen to Luke.”

“It’s a leaf!” Nico snapped.

“It’s a blob, bro.”

The chaos was immediate. Cats weaving between skates left by the front door, espresso dripping unevenly, someone accidentally knocking over a bag of biscotti.

But the effort? Impeccable.

Luke taught them everything he and Jack had learned. How to pull a shot, how to tamp the grounds just right, how to gently nudge a cat off the register without being mauled. They practiced for hours, growing a little more confident—if not a little more competent—by the minute.

By 3am, the café was spotless, the lights dimmed back to their usual glow, and the boys slipped out the door with high-fives and groggy laughs.

The next morning, Mallory showed up just before opening with dark circles under her eyes, a bag full of books, and the expectation of another long, exhausting day.

What she wasn’t expecting?

A gaggle of very tall, very smug hockey players already inside, all donning matching Whiskers aprons with varying degrees of confidence.

She blinked. “…What the hell?”

Luke popped up from behind the counter, grinning ear to ear. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Why are you here?”

Before she could even process the full scope of the invasion, Jack appeared beside her with Missy cradled in one arm and a clipboard in the other.

“Team’s here. We’ve got this. Go put on something cute. You’ve got plans.”

Mallory looked around, genuinely speechless. Nico was fiddling with the espresso machine (and yes, proudly presenting his latte art to Jesper, who clapped even though it still looked like a leaf-shaped blob). Dawson was carefully arranging the pastry case. A cat was curled up in Timo Meier’s lap while he read a children’s book aloud like it was his own kid.

It was absurd. Beautifully absurd.

Mallory opened her mouth to argue. To protest. To insist that this was her café, her responsibility, her weight to carry.

But then she looked at Luke.

He stood there by the door, coat in hand, holding it open like a promise.

And suddenly, her knees didn’t feel so steady.

So she let herself be led out into the morning air. They walked hand in hand down to the docks, the world still waking up, the air crisp and quiet around them. Luke didn’t talk much. He didn’t have to. He just walked beside her, thumb tracing soft circles over her knuckles.

They stopped at the edge of the pier. Boats rocked gently in their slips. The water glittered like glass.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “But you needed a break.”

She looked up at him, heart so full it almost hurt. “How do you always know?”

Luke gave a small, crooked smile and leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. “Because I read you like a book, remember?”

Mallory let out a breathy laugh, soft and full of wonder.

She kissed him.

And for a moment, the world held its breath.

Because she loved him. God, she really did.

And Luke?

Luke had known it long before now.

__

Whiskers was at max capacity—and Mallory was at her limit.

The café had quietly become one of the busiest fostering hubs in the city, thanks in no small part to the steady stream of attention it had been getting from hockey fans and latte art lovers alike. But lately? It was too much. Too many cats. Too few hands. Every time Mallory turned around, another furball needed medicine, food, or affection. She had tried to downsize, to slow adoptions until things were more manageable, but that only made the list grow longer.

And Jack? Jack was one tiny, blinking kitten away from adopting all of them.

“This one’s looking at me weird,” he said one evening, cradling a tabby in his hoodie like it was his newborn child. “I think he’s trying to tell me something.”

“Jack,” Mallory sighed.

“He said my soul is his home.”

“Jack.”

“He’s already named. Horatio.”

“JACK.”

But Luke didn’t laugh like he usually would. He watched from across the café, leaning against the counter, something quietly forming in the back of his mind. That night, Mallory passed out at the café desk again, face in a textbook, Clementine perched protectively on her shoulder. Luke tucked a blanket over her and pulled out his phone.

He had an idea.

And this time, he was going big.

Within a week, the Devils’ media team was involved. Actually, they were obsessed. Once Luke pitched the idea—an adoption event pairing each player with a foster cat—the social media interns practically burst into flames.

“It’s like… a cat draft.”

“No. No. It’s a cat red carpet.”

“Devils x Whiskers: Catwalk to Forever.”

“Stop, I’m going to cry.”

Plans moved fast. The team created promo posters. Luke personally organized the players, matching each one with a foster cat like it was fantasy hockey but furrier. The rules? Each player had to spend a few days bonding with their assigned cat, then debut them at the event in a themed outfit of their choice. Yes, even the cats had to be dressed up. Tastefully. Adorably.

Mallory didn’t know what hit her.

One minute she was trying to wrestle a tuxedo onto an uncooperative calico, and the next, she was watching Curtis Lazar strut down a mini red carpet holding a gray kitten in a sequined bow tie like it was a high-fashion handbag. Timo Meier wore matching sunglasses with his foster. Jack came out with “his” cat (Missy, obviously) in a black tutu and announced she was debuting her solo album.

But the true highlight?

Nico Hischier, cradling a shy orange tabby named Peanut Butter, who was dressed in a custom little captain’s jersey. Nico tried to act indifferent, but by the end of the night, he was lying on the floor feeding Peanut Butter treats and telling Jack, “He seems really chill. I mean… if no one else wants him, I guess he can come home with me.”

Jack screamed. Mallory cried. Missy blinked once in approval.

And somehow—miraculously—every single cat was adopted by the end of the night.

Families came, fans came, people who had never even heard of Whiskers until the Devils posted an Instagram reel of Jesper Bratt waltzing with a tabby kitten came.

And Luke?

Luke stayed in the background, smiling the whole time.

That night, after the café had been cleared out and the lights dimmed, Mallory found Luke sweeping glitter off the carpet.

She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glassy.

“You did all of this.”

He shrugged. “You needed help.”

She stepped closer. “You got Nico to adopt a cat.”

“He loves Peanut Butter. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“And you—” she swallowed hard, emotion catching in her throat. “You made my whole heart feel so… full.”

Luke looked up at her, and for a moment, the whole café was still. The lights twinkled low, the faint scent of espresso and fresh catnip lingered in the air, and the boy who never really saw himself as anything more than a hockey player was suddenly the reason everything worked.

Mallory cupped his face in her hands and kissed him slow.

“You’re my Whiskers,” she whispered. “You know that?”

He smiled against her lips. “I was really hoping you'd say that.”

And from her cozy little café filled with love, fur, and far too much glitter—Mallory knew something with absolute certainty:

Luke Hughes wasn’t just the boy she loved.

He was home.

__

The morning after the adoption event was quiet.

For once, Whiskers didn’t open at its usual hour. A printed sign hung crookedly on the door, written in Mallory’s neat handwriting: Closed for the morning. Thank you for all the love. See you this afternoon.

Inside, the café was still. Sunlight filtered in through the front windows, scattering soft gold across the floorboards. A few of the permanent resident cats lounged in their usual spots—Missy on her throne of a cushion behind the counter, Clementine perched on the window ledge like a queen surveying her kingdom.

In the back, the tiny staff room smelled like fresh linens and vanilla. And in the corner, curled up together on the old loveseat that barely fit one person, let alone two, were Luke and Mallory.

She wore his Devils hoodie, sleeves swallowed over her hands. He wore a Whiskers apron that had definitely seen better days and smelled vaguely like cinnamon and cat treats. Their legs were tangled together, and Mallory’s head rested on his chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing.

It had been a whirlwind—the red carpet, the press, the laughter, the chaos—and now there was only this: the quiet after.

Luke stirred first. He blinked slowly, taking in the way the light danced in Mallory’s hair, the way her fingers curled into the hem of his hoodie like she didn’t want to let go. He didn’t move. Didn’t want to.

His heart was full. His world was soft. And she was here.

Mallory shifted, murmuring sleepily, “Are the cats making coffee without us?”

He chuckled. “Missy’s working the register. I think she’s unionizing.”

She smiled against his chest. “Good. It’s about time someone did.”

They stayed like that for a while. No pressure to move, no rush to clean or prep or respond to emails. Just silence, interrupted occasionally by a distant purr or the creak of an old chair settling.

Eventually, Mallory sat up, stretching and yawning like one of the cats. Luke watched her, chin resting on his palm, totally, hopelessly gone.

She caught him staring.

“What?”

He just smiled. “Nothing. You’re just… glowing. You know that?”

Her cheeks pinked. “I think that’s exhaustion.”

“Nope. It’s joy. And cat hair.”

“Mostly cat hair,” she agreed, brushing a tuft from her sleeve.

He sat up, hands finding her waist, thumbs pressing into her sides gently. “I meant what I said yesterday,” he told her. “You’re it for me. You always have been. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to carry anything alone.”

Mallory’s eyes stung. The good kind of sting.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. “So much, it scares me sometimes.”

“Good,” Luke said. “That means we’re doing it right.”

A soft knock came from the front of the café.

They both froze.

Jack’s voice called out, muffled through the door. “If you’re decent, I brought muffins. If you’re not decent… I’m still coming in.”

Mallory snorted. Luke groaned.

But when they stood, when they opened the door and saw Jack standing there in sweats, holding a bakery bag in one hand and Missy tucked under the other like a furry football, Mallory smiled so wide it hurt her cheeks.

Because this was it.

Her home. Her people. Her peace.

And she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[dadvans]

heavy loads

2.6k of self-indulgent lactation!kink bucktommy for @rcmclachlan based on baby probie-verse, where bucktommy have a whoops baby

It wasn’t a shock to find Evan, up from his nap, in the laundry room when Tommy got home from running errands. Tommy went to go peek in on Nora—still Probie to the 118 and Miss Nora to Evan’s parents and sister, a toss up between those and Mashed Potato or Babygirl between Evan and Tommy, or Miss Piggy when she was feeding and Evan thought he was out of earshot—who was conked out in her crib. He silently snuck back from her crib to return to Evan in the laundry room and ask if he needed any help.

Four weeks and some change since bringing Nora into the world, and it was laundry out of everything that had become the main Sisyphean task to own their lives. They’d given up on cloth diapers almost immediately, but between spit-ups and changes and their basic day-to-day, it felt like there was constant, never-ceasing mountain of laundry. And Evan kept leaking.

He’d always had well-defined pecs before getting pregnant, but now he had full on tits. Just perfect handfuls, in Tommy’s opinion, but after the first few weeks the only time he wasn’t complaining about them was when he was feeding Nora.

When he was feeding Nora, all frustration or anxiety melted away into dopey bliss. Evan loved that his body was producing something good for someone else, sustaining life. “S’what I was made for,” he would say, blinking sleepily down at Nora who made sweet, little noises as she tried to suck him dry. It was a welcome difference from the weeks leading up to her arrival, when he’d been so nervous, voice shaky as he worried out loud about faulty parts, that his body wouldn’t make enough or that she wouldn’t latch, right up until she did there in the hospital on the first try.

“Babygirl’s still snoozing,” Tommy said, stuffing a hand in Evan’s back pocket while Evan leaned down to catch some stray wet socks for the dryer. “You need any help?”

Evan made a familiar disgruntled noise at the back of his throat, which meant he didn’t want to ask, but yes. So, Tommy squeezed his ass twice through the denim in a way that meant move. Evan rolled up, tossed the socks in and slammed the dryer door a little too quickly before scooting to the side. His emotions had always run high, Tommy knew, and the hormones during pregnancy and now made him even quicker to anger. In all honesty, Tommy still had to check himself when feeling annoyed about it, but it helped now when Evan twisted to let Tommy’s hand slide out of his pocket and catch on his hip. So,

“Hey,” Tommy said instead. “Hey.”

“We need to do, uh, sheets. Again,” Evan clarified, jaw tight, waving at the still-full hamper and half-emptied washing machine. He smiled like it hurt. “Passed out for a half hour and I totally soaked through them again. And I know I could leave it, let it dry, I’m putting a towel down anyway, but we already had a full load—“

“Evan.” Tommy didn’t shut him up with a kiss, but with a gentle squeeze. He’d found out that Evan’s tendency to pass out face down and sprawled out on any surface had not been fixed, but had simply laid dormant while he was pregnant, and he was up to his old habits again, which now had consequences. “I’ll take over in here. I grabbed you some more of those prebiotic sodas you’re obsessed with, if you want one.”

Evan softened.  “Ginger lime?”

“Yeah, baby, ginger lime.” Tommy gave him another squeeze. “So, get out of here and try not to give yourself heartburn while I finish loading the rest, okay?”

He finished loading the wash, and—poor baby, he thought—the sheets really were soaked through already. Both machines going, he closed the door behind him as he left and for one blissful second got to enjoy the sight of Evan settling down on the living room couch with his soda before Nora’s crying from the next room cracked through the silence like thunder.

Evan sighed, and he instantly crossed his arms across his chest, tilting his head back for a second with his eyes closed. The soda can in his hand crinkled in his grip before his wrist went limp.

Before Tommy could offer, Evan said, “Trust me. I got this one.”

xx

Tommy started re-making their bed late evening. Evan came in after leading Nora’s nighttime ritual, slingshotting his nursing tank from the doorway into the hamper, before finding a clean one in the dresser. Instead of tight, elastic straps that he could work loose, it had thicker, ribbed tank straps and deep, henley collar that he probably knew Tommy liked seeing him in. He walked into the master bathroom half-blind trying to slip it on over his head.

“You know,” he called out only to come back a few seconds later, still straightening himself out at the hem and carrying a ragged towel that he flipped over his side of the bed, “you know I think it’s cool that my body knows how to make food for our kid.”

“It’s very cool,” Tommy agreed, no-nonsense. He threw one side of their duvet over to Evan so they could snap it over the bed and peel it back evenly on each side.

Evan flopped himself on top of his towel face up the second they were done, kicking his own feet down to get his calves under the covers. “Well, lately I’m starting to feel like it doesn’t know how to stop, and I’m going to be like this forever. A leaky mess.”

Tommy crawled into bed next to him and leaned over to press a kiss to the meat of his shoulder. “I���m sorry about your tits, baby. Anything I can do?”

His mouth grazed down the strap of Evan’s nursing tank and something deep in his gut began to uncoil as Evan’s breath hitched in response. Instinctively, he pressed another kiss lower, near the crease of his armpit, and Evan shuddered on the exhale.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned.

Tommy smiled against his warm skin, eyes beating closed. “Good thing we’re both firefighters, then.”

Evan laughed.

“Fuck, I’m serious!” He said, first fond and then softer, “Really. I’m serious, though. If you were. Curious, I mean. Go for it. There’s always a little something left in the tank.”

Tommy hummed. Eyes still closed, he could feel the way Evan shifted underneath him to wrap an arm around Tommy’s shoulder and get a palm at the nape of his neck, fingers tracing up through his hair. Ready to cradle him like that, hold him there, if he wanted.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve already thought about it,” Evan continued. “I’ve thought about it, maybe a lot.”

“Jesus, Evan.” Tommy nipped at his shoulder again, just to tease, but found himself curling into Evan’s hold, reaching up to snap open the collar of his tank and slide his hand underneath to cup at Evan’s pec, which fit perfectly in his palm and sat soft and ready below his chin. His thumb stroked over the nipple, fatter and perkier than ever since Nora’d arrived, and Evan sank back against his body in return. “You gonna feed me?”

“Y-yeah.” Evan sounded shaky but so sure. His fingers in Tommy’s hair curled into a soft grip. “God, help me out, Tommy, please let me feed you.”

Tommy hummed. “Okay. C’mere, baby, I got you.”

It was so easy, taking Evan’s fat tit into his mouth, Evan’s grip in his hair growing tighter while the rest of him went practically boneless. Another shaky breath and then Evan made a noise, half-whimper, half moan, that went straight to Tommy’s dick.

“Need you to take it deeper. Open, open, oh—God, your mouth is so big. Stay there, like that, yeah,” Evan said, hushed, almost reverent, as Tommy adjusted his latch and started putting his tongue to work.

He licked up, chasing Evan’s nipple, trying to tease his milk out. Swallowed around him and threw an arm over Evan’s lap to keep him in place when he started to squirm, thrilled to feel the way Evan shifted as his heels started to dig into the mattress, getting hard, dick pressing up against Tommy’s forearm.

And there it was, suddenly, Evan’s milk streaming into his mouth. Creamy and sweet, like the leftover dregs of Saturday morning cereal when he was a kid, hitting his tongue in little hiccup spurts. He almost choked at the sensation and felt a little slip out the corner of his mouth, and Evan’s grip tightened at the base of his scalp again, holding him there.

Their sex life hadn’t suffered even in the past few weeks, not in the way Tommy thought back on many of his old guard colleagues at the 118 talking about—dead bedrooms, wives like cold fish ever since they popped out a kid for some reason. But between Evan’s body needing the time to heal and the recent arrival of a tiny drill sergeant who demanded to be fed, held, changed and bathed at regularly irregular frequencies, opportunities to be intimate with each other had been few and far between. Tommy wasn’t complaining, but the sheer wave of niceness he felt now—being this close and familiar with Evan felt just as good as the first hit of a dilaudid drip in the back of an ambulance, made his toes curl against their fresh sheets as he swallowed.

“Missed your mouth on me,” Evan sighed, clearly also feeling some kind of way. “Shit, that’s nice. Different, but good.”

His dick was more insistent against Tommy’s arm now, the head eagerly tenting the thin cotton of his boxers.

Tommy finally took pity on him and tugged Evan out through the slit in his boxers, lips slipping loose to murmur,  “Yes, hi, hello to you too.”

He licked his hand milk wet and returned his grip to stroke Evan and squeeze a little mean at the tip, the way that Evan loved, the way that made Evan pant and whine, before he resumed suckling. There was something meditative about Evan rocking into his hand and against his tongue, and Tommy found himself soothed by the give and take of his body, their natural rhythm together punctuated by Evan’s swallowed back noises.

“Okay?” Tommy asked, mouth full.

“Uh-huh.” Evan sighed, breath pitchy. “Starting to soak through my other side without my Haakaa.”

Tommy hummed, and licked a broad stripe up his nipple to his collarbone, biting there softly. “You want me to go get your Haakaa, baby?”

“Nah, I have a better idea,” Evan replied. He untangled himself from Tommy’s grip and carefully twisted to throw one long leg over Tommy’s thighs. “Hey, handsome.”

“Evan,” Tommy warned. They were supposed to be limiting the kind of sex they were having for at least two more weeks.

Evan worked the other side of his tank down his chest so both of his tits were exposed, rubbing at the neglected nipple. “I just want to continue what we started. Nothing else. C’mon. No funny business.”

“Maybe a little funny business,” Tommy murmured as he watched milk dribble out over Evan’s fingers. He leaned in to chase the wet line up Evan’s knuckles with his tongue and suck a hot-breathed open-mouthed kiss to Evan nipple before pulling away. Evan groaned and rocked forward, chasing him in response, which almost had Tommy laughing. “Hey, gimme a sec. I’m grabbing you some lube.”

“Me?”

Tommy, halfway stretched back reaching for the bedside table, gave an unimpressed glance down at where Evan’s hard dick still curved up through the slit in his boxers, plummy head drooling precome against the tent in Tommy’s own sleep pants. Then he went back to digging the lube out of the drawer, practiced hands making quick work with it until he was wrapping a slick palm around Evan’s dick.

“That’s right, said I was gonna take care of you.” He sidled back up against the headboard, and Evan shifted with him practiced and familiar, until Tommy’s hand was stroking him, snug and slippery between them. Licking another long, thick line up the small swell of Evan’s breast, Tommy said, “And you’ll take care of me.”

He pulled Evan back into his mouth, and something uncoiled in his gut as Evan’s milk hit the back of his tongue again. His eyes fluttered closed. Years together and Evan’s body was still finding new things to give, new ways to taste, sweet and warm like the rest of him, dripping down Tommy’s throat.

“Oh.” Evan’s voice was weak and pitchy, and he brought both hands back up to curl in Tommy’s hair and hold him there while Tommy continued to suck and let Evan fuck into his fist.

His stomach was soft against Tommy’s knuckles, recently tender enough that Tommy tried to get his free hand on Evan’s hip to control the roll of his hips, opting for a sluggish grind and tighter grip. In the past nine months and change Evan had ridden him, sure, actually ridden him, but more recently he’d had a belly full of their kid in the way, so it was always reverse cowboy, and not this level of skin on skin closeness right in his lap. Evan flush against him now was a reminder of their first several months together when they used a little more strength to push each other around and hold each other down and Tommy, mouth full, felt so hungry for it.

“Can’t wait to have you inside me again,” Evan said, like he could read Tommy’s mind.

Tommy moaned and swallowed in response, tongued at Evan’s nipple like he was begging for more. He could feel Evan’s dick throb hot, heavier now in response, the grinding rock of his hips going a little sloppy.

“Baby,” Evan said, right on cue, “I’m going to come.”

The hands in Tommy’s hair tugged back, Tommy’s mouth dragged away and up with a slick noise to be guided in for a kiss, milk slipping from the corners, passed between the two of them as Evan came, shuddering on top of him. Vaguely he felt Evan’s come seep through his tank and sleep pants, already damp with lube and sweat. He was defenseless against it as Evan kept kissing him through his orgasm, licking into him sloppy and greedy for what felt like an hour, big hands and long arms slowly sliding down to where Tommy was still achingly hard. His fingers curled into the elastic waistband to clumsily peel back what he could without moving to pull Tommy out into his own familiar grip.

“Evan,” Tommy said against his mouth, almost breathless with it.

“Let me.” Evan leaned back to spit on his own hand, equal parts too lazy and restless to grab the lube that was right there, but Tommy had been riding the edge practically from the start. He was so goddamn spoiled already.

Evan touched him like he knew, jerking him off hard and quick.

“Next time,” he continued, “next time we do this, you lay me down and I’ll let you jerk off all over my tits.”

Tommy came hard with an ugly noise, like it was ripped up his throat. His head kicked back and Evan laughed, smug, leaning in to kiss the noise down, their teeth clacking together instead. He body felt weightless, Evan’s weight on him the only thing keeping him from floating up to the ceiling.

“Jesus,” he said, eventually.

Evan hummed, settling back. He looked sleepy, and satisfied, and so pleased with himself. “Yeah? You good? Get your fill?”

“And then some,” Tommy replied, feeling half drunk. “You good?”

“Great,” Evan said, glancing between them. Both their clean shirts were soaked through in places. Tommy needed to grab a new pair of pants. “But I'll be even better if you take care of the laundry.”

[howlingday]

Pyrrha: (Napping)

Jaune: (Looks down)

Jaune's 2 legs = Pyrrha's 1 leg

Jaune: ...I need to do more exercise.

Nora: That's the benefit of being raised by a Amazons~!

[limetimo]

Thinking about Jean, Neil, and how Nora said Nathaniel would never leave Jean.

Thinking about the fic Raven!Neil subgenre where Riko beats Nathaniel an inch from death and dumps him at the Palmetto Stadium/Wymack's/Abby's as a taunt and a promise to Kevin... and maybe he means to leave for the Nest once he heals up enough, but in the end Nathaniel always agrees to stay with the Foxes and works on getting Jean out through making a deal with the main family.

But what if he didn't stay?

Barely conscious Nathaniel gets dumped on Kevin's doorstep. Abby patches him up, gives him the good painkillers, leaves him to rest. When she comes back to check on him later, the little fucker is gone with the wind. Along with the bathroom first aid kit and Kevin's vodka supply.

Three days later, Nathaniel is back, in an even worse shape. Abby patches him up (again), dopes him up with as much painkillers as she dares, and lets Kevin and Andrew guard the kid. This time they manage to keep Nathaniel until breakfast. They look away once (1), and he's gone, along with a bag of oranges and Kevin's vodka supply.

This is the beginning of a cycle.

Nobody knows what to think about this. Nobody knows what is going on. Why is Riko so set on sending the Butcher's son to Palmetto? Why is Tsetsuji letting him? Is it some sort of ploy? And since Nathaniel is clearly not cooperating, why not just kill him already?

Kevin is having a continuous mental breakdown. Andrew is fascinated, annoyed, stabby. Nicky is Nicky. Aaron fixes Nathaniel's stitches while narrating how he will suffocate him with a pillow in the night. Wymack wants to get black out drunk, this is so above his pay grade.

Nathaniel explains a little bit over time, though not much sonce he doesn't really know either. Power dynamics shifted after Kevin left, though it's difficult to say how? Riko isn't allowed to kill or long-term cripple any more players for sure tho or Nathaniel would have been dead five times over by now. Not allowing him to play with Ravens, and not sharing his stats with other colleges, Riko might be trying to kill Nathaniel indirectly by making him unprofitable and therefore useless to the Family. It might be for the best to contact his British family and flee the States.

Nathaniel refuses to leave Jean though. He keeps breaking back inside the Nest, living in all the hidden nooks and crannies like a creepy crawlie, coming out at night to care for his partner. Some backliners suffer tragic (if nonlethal) tripped-down-the-stairs accidents. There is a rumour going around that Nathaniel died and his ghost haunts the place like an especially vengeful spirit.

Every time the security catches him they rough him up and kick him out. He goes to Palmetto since he already knows Abby can fix him up without getting the police or mafias involved, takes a big nap, and hauls ass back to Edgar Allen. It becomes such a routine that Nathaniel knows which security guards will beat him up for real and which will only slap him around a little for appearance's sake. Meaning he's getting hurt a whole lot less. He still returns to Palmetto each time, because Abby's cooking is very good and Wymack is gruff but not scary and the Monsters are assholes but they never hurt him just for fun.

Janie Smalls attempts suicide, Couch Wymack has an empty slot he desperately needs to fill and no time to scout players. Nathaniel needs a college team if he wants to live past the start of the school year. It works out.

Nathaniel still makes the trip to see Jean more often than humanely possible. He's there when Renee and Stephanie storm castle Evermore.

At the end of the series when the FBI tries to strongarm Nathaniel into Witness Protection he's just as annoying as in canon but says ok. The very next week he shows up at Plametto like Sup everypony I need a new jersey

[ghostbsuter]

Ghostbsuter's Masterlist!

Every prompt and idea (outside of the multiple parts: section) is free to use! Have fun. Feel free to credit me as well when you do.

Got a prompt yourself? Drop it into my inbox! Chatting is fine too, haha.

・゜-: ✧ :-

Multiple parts:

Batclan and Catband

Selina is Danny's mom, recently got engaged to Bruce, and now they're meeting!

[ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ]

The house of Nightingale & Constantine | #the house of Constantine and Nightingale have infinite beef

Batman called for help.

Now, with Phantom's help and Constantines, they might have a chance. If only he knew those two were rivals and enemies in terms of dark houses.

[ chapters: 1 | ] [ao3] (soon!)

[ snippets: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ]

[ chap 1 snap-shot ]

Wonder MOM

Danny is a godling, born from the stars and son of Diana. Batman rescued him from abduction, and that's how the JL finds out about the son of WW.

[ part 1 ]

Twins, minus the Demon

Demon Twins Au, Damian and Danyal are the sons of the bat, demon and cat.

Implied and referenced past/current Bruce/Selina/Talia throuple.

[ part 1 ]

Magicians way

Danny is the son of Zatanna and John, member of the Young Just us and well... sometimes things don't go as planned.

[ part 1 | 1/4 ]

Team effort

Danny is a member of the Teen Titans!

[ part 1 | part 2 soon! ]

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Stand alones:

Birthday present (read the reblogs!) | (Martian appreciation)

High on fear (read the reblogs!) | (ghosts really like emotions)

Joker's Jr. or not? | (danny being the son of joker and harley)

He's Danny | (Joker's Jr. or not? continuation)

Titan missing! | (phantom is teen titans member and amity got kidnapped)

Wingman | (steph x sam)

Dog-napped | (cujo at it again ft. baby assassin)

One way to crush | (Dani crushing on Lian)

Speed running romance | (Dick x Jazz x Babs)

The Fries | (Nora going ghost)

Arson and consequences | (Roy!!)

Babysitting trouble | (baby yeti outside!)

Visitation | (Sam and young justice)

Syn eclipse | (being chased)

Elephant | (beast boy trolling)

Sibling rivalry | (just dan and danny things)

Team Bonding!!! | (JL + Danny get kidnapped)

Halloween skull | (supersons)

Young Justice Dark | (JLD + their own Jr.)

Actor au | (Team Phantom)

Human born | (Zatanna)

Death defying (not the ship) | (undying)

A massive Rabbit Hole | (Clark&Bruce&Elle)

Moon rejects | (Ghost explanation for the dumb)

Sir, please, that sweet sour sauce is NOT running away. | (Dick&Danny)

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Bats!!

Prompts and snippets of adventures Danny has with various Bats.

College student shaped stray | (dami befriends teen dad danny)

Mom!cass | (time shenanigans end with conspiracy theories)

Calico (read the reposts!) | (nighttime activities as family bonding)

Paranoia | (bonding activity between Duke and Danny)

Harsh truth | (the plans start the moment Ra's fell)

Meta-child | (dick centric)

Villain magnet | (just danny being danny)

Sweet revenge | (danny and bruce)

Diplomatic immunity | (danny in gotham)

Little Brother | (Danny is a drake)

Another Cain | (Danny Cain)

Buying your own mercenary! | (Danny in his deadpool arc)

Grayson's stray | (one police officer picks up a kid)

Robin manifestation!Danny | (child of gotham)

Governmental shit that is (read the reblogs!) | (dead tired)

1 (+3) new child | (scooby doo but its Danny-Johnny-Kitty-Ember and shadow)

Cell buddies | (Dami and Danny)

Its not a habit | (Tim and danny)

Keeping up with the waynes | (wes theories and denial)

Straying Twins | (demon twins)

Bat plans | (robin needs a new buddy)

Mantles | (cass prepares)

How to spot | (night shift bats)

Apologies | (timetravel is a great plot)

Play along! | (Agnes and Beatrice)

Spoiler alert! | (steph and danny)

Infiltration | (dick and danny)

Doubled | (talia and danny)

Strange animal | (damian)

Left and collected | (everlasting trio + baby tim)

Please leave | (he won't leave)

Annoyance at Patrol | (Red Hood shenanigans)

Catnapped | (Red Hood shenanigans ||)

Time anomaly | (Jason Todd and Danny)

Psychopomp! | (Danny doing his new Job)

.・゜-: ✧ :-

WONDER W

Prompts and snippets with the one and only! Wonder Woman!

Spiderman meme | (featuring Dani and Diana)

Demigods (read the reblogs!) | (fake it till u make it)

.・゜-: ✧ :-

SUPERS

Prompts and snippets with the local superfam

Metropolis | (hiding)

Twitter beef | (ft. Superman)

Super representative | (confused Clark kent)

New kid dropped | (they're so confused)

Fake it till u make it | (Jon dug his grave)

Civilian life | (danny is just trying to live)

School way | (Jon and Danny meet!)

Clone Club covers | (kon jumps in as elle)

.・゜-: ✧ :-

SPEEDSTERS!!!

Prompts and snippets of adventures Danny has with various Speedsters.

Bart & Danny | timetraveler & immortal (read the reposts!)

Bart & Danny | playdates

Barry & Danny | Found family via Villain

Bart/Danny | Crushing

Bart & Danny | displaced

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Godly shenanigans | #Billy and Danny are brothers in crime and losers in costumes

Prompts and snippets of Billy and Danny trying to survive in the world of adults.

JL's own trouble kids

Double the trouble

Pranksters in disguises

Grounded

Challenge

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Anything with Connie

Prompts and snippets of various ways of Danny interacting with John Constantine.

Troubled and Dad shaped

Imprisoned but not dead?

Breaking in

Hell adventures

Zones

Rush hour

He when (head wanted, not alive)

Haunted menace

Nail polish

[transparentkinks]

Wait, you're pre-war?

Hancock edition because he is my fav

He had no doubt she was a vault dweller the second she strolled into his town. Figured she had a little more teeth than most to threaten the guy trying to charge her protection money. More than just the bright blue suit, her pip-boy looked damn near untouched and she frequently brought it close to her face and adjusted the dials to check or write down different things. He wasn’t so sure about pre-war. He’d met plenty of people who claimed to be pre war, most of them were ghouls and half of them were liars. Actual pre-war folks were rare, and it wasn’t something to flaunt unless you’re looking to ‘disappear’. He half believed her when Daisy declared that she was legit, but he figured it wasn’t a hard guess to say people are still people and the amount of people around before the war was a lot, but then-

“Hi there Nora. Been a while since the pickman gig, I was hoping I’d run into ya.”

“Yeah?” She seemed amused in her ridiculous getup. Like a genderswap of that old world comic. 

“Guess what someone tells me? Some costumed freak is operating in Goodneighbor. And the kicker is, it ain’t me. How am I supposed to feel about this?” He cracked one of his typical jokes, sizing up the now well-known vault dweller wondering what the hell she was up to in his town. 

“This neighborhood is ill.” She spoke in the goofiest voice he’s ever heard and he had to stop himself from laughing in her face. She may be acting and in costume, but she’d already rubbed out plenty of movers and shakers on his turf to leave behind that little call sign card. “I am the cure.” She spoke confidently in her oversized trench-coat and hat. 

“God, You’re priceless.” He lost the battle to hold back a chuckle. “Like the silver shroud herself walked out of a comic book into my den. Just priceless.” This encounter with the vault dweller’s flavor of crazy was sure to be one for the books. If he could get this lil ball of crazy working for him, his town would be perfect. “You’ve been busy scaring people. Bashing in a few faces. I respect that- so far. But I gotta ask, one freak to another. Why the getup?”

“Many have sought to pierce the shroud-” She spoke haughtily, in her same ridiculous put-on voice. “To no avail.” Dammit this was supposed to be a kinda serious talk. He was one line away from busting out laughing. 

“You just don’t stop. Stay you, pal.” He spoke with no small measure of levity. Dammit hancock, focus! This barrel of laughs could be in the mood to wipe out more thorns in his side, considering those remaining thorns may start sticking in her side soon. “Those low-lives you took out all belong to the same asshole. And that asshole’s planning some old-fashioned revenge on you, ya dig?” Better make sure this superhero has the info she needs to take out the trash in his town. “Fortunate for you, I want Sinjin to take a dirt nap.” More fortunate for him really, want was an understatement. Sinjin and his crew kept the allys and private residences of goodneighbor dangerous, since his guys kept to the streets unless someone calls them. “He’s taken two-bit raider outfits and made them- scary. Small fish now, but if left alone-” Understatement of the century. These guys wanted to be a new kind of gunners. 

“He will be judged for his crimes.” She spoke with finality, not once dropping the comic book hero voice. 

“Trust me-” He spoke with a smirk. “He needs a lot of judging. Got a lead on two of his own: Smiley Kate and Northy. Smiley is gathering a possy to take you out. And Northy is just running scared, hired himself some goons and is holding up in Prospect. Just keep piling those body bags until you find the location of the big guy himself.”

“Sinjin thinks he is above judgement. But no one is safe from the Silver Shroud.” She loved her heroic declarations, huh? He just prayed she was as monstrous in a fight as they said on the streets, no need to get this lady killed for some costumed escapades-

“Don’t get killed.” He warned. “You deal with Sinjin and I'm inclined to show you some gratitude, you feel me?” She just gave him this quiet, confident smirk, like his warning was funny. Left with a nod, look of amusement never dropping. Talk about a rogue variable-

---------

Sinjin was dead, so says the rumors along the grapevine, and if Kent is to be believed saved him from near death. His men say she came back, visited bobby no-nose, and the two haven't been seen since. Fahrenheit says she thinks they’re tunneling underground by all the explosions that have been reported by traders, and she has a few different places mapped out for where they could be going. He couldn’t understand why the vault dweller was joining a heist against him instead of coming to claim their reward he promised for their caped escapades, but maybe she just had one hell of a screw loose. He figured once Fahrenheit stops them, he’ll be happy to let them go so long as they don’t start firing. He figured with the both of those nutcases together, who knows how they reasoned themselves into this. 

It kinda stung though, he respected Bobby. She ran some good operations, never targeted people who didn’t deserve it. The fact that she was clearly angling for one of his storehouses meant that by Bobby's definition, he was The Man. He was too selfish, too authoritative to be trusted to distribute fairly to his citizens. In his city, Bobby felt like she had to rob him. One of his people. That really hurt. It was in a way the definition of failure. Was the vault dweller convinced this was justice? If that was true, if that’s how Bobby felt, fuck- 

He needs to take a walk.

------

“Well if it ain’t Bobby’s little patsy.” He joked. She was out of costume when he saw her again. Fahrenheit filled him in plenty, her thinking she was pulling the heist on diamond city, chewing Bobby a new one and convincing her to stand down. He’s just glad no one died over this mess. “Here-” He dug into his pocket, pulled out a generous sized pouch of caps for her. “For protecting my stash, and for wiping out Sinjin. Real nice work there.” He complimented. “I’m glad you got her to stand down.” 

“Me too. Sorry for blowing the floor out your warehouse.” She laughed, and he couldn’t suppress a chuckle of his own. Damn, that laugh was contagious. 

“Hey, this is Goodneighbor.” He replied. “No hard feelings.” 

“I figured since the guard didn’t open fire the second I stepped into town.” She Jested, but it rang too true. He could with just a few words kill anyone in his territory. Wouldn’t even need a reason, his guard would be happy to listen. She was right, if he was mad she wouldn’t have made it into the statehouse. 

“Lemme tel ya-” He sighed. “This classy little tricorn hat of mine is getting heavy. Am I turning into the Man? Some kind of tyrant?” She was giving him her attention as he spoke, he appreciated it. “I spend all my time putting down the people I would've been proud to scheme with just a few years ago. I need to take a walk again, get a grip on what really matters; living free.” 

“Are you able to leave like that?” She looked at him quizzically. “Arn’t you the mayor?” 

“Hey, the mayor is still the mayor whether he’s ‘in residence’ or not.” He replied certainly. “I’ve walked outta here plenty a times. Keeps me honest. Can’t let power get to my head. That’s not what being in charge of Goodneighbor is all about.” She grinned at that, this bright, sunny, perfect thing. Shiny straight teeth, barely chapped lips, it wasn’t fair, making his old ghoulified heart skip a beat with nothing. With just a twitch of her face. Fuck, looking at her clearly, no shenanagains, no shock at the bright blue and shiny pip-boy or confusion at her costume and sunglasses, she was really, unfairly pretty. Like some chick in a pre-war magazine strolled off the pages. He could see where the pre-war rumors came from, they must have it really nice in those vaults. 

“If you’re headed out of here, why not travel with me?” She offered, and it was like she was pulling one of the millions of schoolboy-worthy dream scenarios out of his head and reading the script aloud. 

“Yeah-” He drawled, exceedingly pleased with how this was unfolding. “I like it. You might just be the right kind of trouble. Lemme just have a little chat with my community first. Give them the news.” 

--------

“I can’t believe you poached one of my citizens.” He teased as he re-joined her for dinner, having spent the afternoon exploring the aptly named little community of Sanctuary. To his shock, his travel companion was the infamous general of the minutemen, who’s been talked about like some sort of fairy-tale creature. Traders came through goodneighbor with stories of clean running water, strange buildings, and flocks of people immigrating to minutemen territory. To hear the folks on the radio tell it, most people couldn’t find sanctuary, and it was talked about like some foreign land. If you asked him, it sure looked like it. 

Turns out, as Nora had explained to him on the trip up, there’s just one way in or out and she’s been planting dense vegetation, on top of carving something she called earth-smiles into the barren soil. Indeed, the closer they got to her sanctuary, the greener their surroundings got. The security when they arrived was impressive, it looked like it was all pre-war tech. Mounted turrets everywhere, controlled bridge access, tall walls built from the same material as the houses, barbed wire embedded in the very top. She talked about it all casually, saying she just did this or that, but he didn’t actually put it together who she was until she had been immediately dragged away by people in uniform without any fuss, and in fact a great deal of humor, telling him she’ll see him later at dinner, go explore. Of course, her people were happy to spell it out for him just who she was and sing the praises of what she did.

The buildings all looked strange, rounded dirt walls and packed grass roofs, but they were pretty extraordinary. The bunkhouse was clean, the doctor’s even cleaner. The bunkhouse offered individual rooms, and when the receptionist he learned Nora employed let him take a peak he saw the rooms were not only were clean, but the beds looked new and the sheets, blankets, and pillows were an even cream, like they were dyed and not faded. Their cheapest room made his room in the statehouse look like a hobo shack.

The lady running the hospital claimed to be a robot and had a crazy accent and practically begged him for a blood donation, saying she had very little opportunities to work with ghouls like she does humans, lamenting to him there was only one other ghoul in sanctuary and she needed ‘replication’. She assured him it was all sterile, and by the time he felt like she would get emotional if he said no, he was convinced to get stabbed by the most polite doctor he’d met. She said, as they waited for his blood to pool in the bag, that she had explored many avenues of research in the commonwealth thanks to Nora and talked to him about her findings till the moment she pulled the needle from his skin. 

There was a playground for the grand total of two kids he could spot running around the streets, though Nora talked excitedly about the school she had underway on the walk up so there were probably more. The weapons and armor stores had impressive displays and a huge variety of items, the clothing store also sold toys, trinkets and jewelry seemingly handmade by the owner and her very talkative teenage daughter. He could see her toddler son on the floor, playing in a small box of scrap fabric with a sewn fabric fish. The woman looked preganant, and brought up her husband hunted and tanned the leather in their goods himself. He was pretty much pressured into buying a necklace the girl made as he chatted with he mother and examined their shockingly wide variety of wares. He couldn't begrudge them though, it was a fair price and he had never seen someone carve such a medallion from trash glass bottles. 

The necklace was wonderfully smooth to the touch and shiny, small multicolored beads of yellow and blue plastic and glass patterned in different sizes to accentuate the large amber glass medallion carved in the shape of the sun hanging down in the middle, all strung on a thin leather cord. He wasn’t sure he would wear it, but it was worth every cap. He’d never seen people make clothes or items so detailed. The people Nora had found here were talented. That, on top of the delicious roast squirrel on a stick sold at the bar that for some reason had vegetables skewered and cooked alongside the meat and their variety. Variety! Of cold beer, wine, and spirits. It was the best meal he’d ever bought during one of the most pleasant afternoons of his life, and the bartender warned him not to spoil his appetite for the community dinner. A free dinner for everyone?! Every Night?! Even visitors?! Yep, the bartender was happy to explain. 

They had guards, traders, hunters, builders he could see making another house in a cleared spot and fiddling around with the town’s water purifiers and generator building. Sprawling fields of razorgrain, mutfruit, melons, squash, every plant people could grow grew along the gentle slope down to the river, and he could see several people working in the fields. It was pretty picturesque considering they lived in an irradiated world. The place was idyllic, so it was pretty surprising to run into an old face running the general goods store. He was friendly enough, he knew the poor bastard was always a bit of a wuss. He guessed it got him through the years, but coward or not he was a part of goodneighbor. He guessed he couldn't blame the old bastard, the guy basically waxed poetic the second he brought up Nora and by the look and sound of it, he had a cushy ass setup here. Was a homeowner the old man bragged. 

“It’s not my fault.” Nora answered with that soft smirk that meant she was feeling mischievous. “You could say we’re old friends.” She sat down with her bowl of stew the cafeteria provided, happy to join him at his table. She was dressed all pre-war, hair tamed back with one of those sparkly pre-war hairnets and dressed in dainty black flat shoes and a bright red dress, complete with the lipstick and a tiny metal pin with “General Howard” pinned to her dress. He swore he saw her in a magazine when he was a kid, like someone dragged the model through time. 

“Man, what’s with the getup?” He found it hard to focus on any one thing, she was just ridiculously pretty. He was kind of stunned, he didn’t think he’d ever see, let alone talk to someone who looked like her. He’d seen plenty of people try, but out in the wasteland imitations of pre-war aesthetics were just that: imitations. Meant to show off to others that you can be fancy in the way people used to be, it showed you had enough, felt confident, lived safe, and it never quite looked right. Now he knows why, none of them can actually convincingly look pre-war, yet somehow Nora did so easily. “You look like someone from before the war, and it's all in great condition. Where’d you get that stuff? It must’a cost you an arm and a leg.” And it really should have. No stains, no wrinkles, the dress looked new, so did the shoes. 

“I am pre-war” She spoke through her smirk, barely containing her amusement. “Considering I bought them new, they were pretty cheap when I bought them.” 

“You’re shitting me. You look maybe 35, and that’s one hell of a stretch. There’s no way you can convince me you were around before the bombs fell.” He crossed his arms and re-appraised her. She looked like she was eating up this entire conversation. 

“Believe me or not, it's the truth. Me and my whole family were frozen in the vault near here, 111. My kid was stolen while I was frozen, that’s why I'm looking for him.” She explained. “We got free admittance to the vault because me and my husband both served, so we never had to use our personal bunker. Luckily, we just stored emergency items down there and used the rest of the space for storage, so it all came in handy when I made it out of my vault.” 

“You’re shitting me.” He was sure he looked stunned, he felt stunned. She was already an odd individual, a kind and oddly clever travel companion, and had little concept of personal space despite his ghoulish affliction. That was off-putting enough, this? 

“I am not.” She spoke with a grin, like the first she gave him that stopped his heart, this one stopped it then sent it back racing several times, and he knew he was fucked.

[heylabodega]

The year that I was 34 was filled with a lot of love and a lot of indolence. I took so many naps, I made naps a key feature of my personality. I was brought to tears (derogatory) by my little sister’s assessment of my constant need for sleep. I loved and was loved, felt at the center of a universe of love. I knew I needed to do more.

The year that I was 34, I stepped fully into my role as auntie. I claimed it. Aunt Lily. People I love keep giving birth and I am an expert, now, in the ways that love transfers so seamlessly from parent to child the second they exist but, also, the way it splits to become its own love for the new person as they become. I MISSED my…people (niece or nephew still feels too biological a term) when we were apart. In public, kids started to approach me, I hoped and felt that I am beginning to emanate a strong Auntie energy: I’m safe, I’m fun, I’m patient.

The year that I was 34, I showed up for my friends and their kids and their pets and their families and their friends when I could. At hospitals, front doors, police stations, cribs, uber doors. I wondered, occasionally, so briefly, if it was sad, actually. Is it sad, actually, some grasping gross thing to love other peoples’ children, to care for their creatures, to borrow families? To show up where no familial tie requires? No, I remembered, no. That society wants to commodify family and define love and limit care, but in fact my ability to love everyone who trusts me is a superpower.

The year that I was 34 is the year that Nora Ephron stopped exhorting women my age to wear a bikini and, indeed, I felt bodily insecurities I haven’t felt in many years — though I also bought my first bikini in a decade. I felt both the squeeze of societal beauty standards and the deep pull of my own understandings of beauty, sensuality, embodiment. I smoked cigarettes in Paris and drank martinis in New York and lifted weights in the gym and thought about Botox and then thought about the face my friends love and the aging I want to show to young people.

I painted a lot, I painted some of my best works but also painted minor things less frequently — my talent caught up to my taste and I was disappointed with many results. I painted a liquor label and a company card and I was recognized in a lot of ways for being talented and I thought yes, I am.

I travelled, alone, always alone. To Scotland and London and Maine and Charleston and Paris, to L.A. and Portland to see old friends and loved ones.

The year that I was 34 I dated not at all. I hooked up with one man at a birthday party, one man with broad shoulders and a crooked mouth like Milo ventimiglia, and danced with a lot of people, and never fell in love even once and barely had a crush.

The year that I was 34 I was injured the entire time! The first full year I’ve ever been physically incapable of running 10 miles! It shook me and tired me in many ways.

I went to trivia almost weekly, grew to ADORE my trivia team, trivia Monday and the group text became the safest spaces to express vulnerability about affection and attachment and confidence. I was so proud of my strength identifying the artist on one hit wonders of the 20th century. I was overjoyed to have that strength appreciated.

The year that I was 34, as has become my custom, I visited family, felt absolutely torn up about it, and that felt productive; I was grateful for the chance to examine myself and my relationships in the safety of a biological bond and then to know I have the power to override biology.

The year I was 34 I became even more ideologically skeptical of our ideas about biology.

At work I got smarter and better, I got promoted, and none of it helped me be less insecure cause that’s inside me not out. I still loved the work and my coworkers. I wrote better and felt surer of my value. On a farm, I scooped up horse poop and gathered turkey eggs and checked the wire in cow pens and it felt equally important, like there are many types of work to do, but like I wasn't embarrassed to talk about my work to my friend who went on fishing boats in the North Sea. I became in many ways an expert in the ways our country is collapsing and didn't know if I'd done enough with that information.

The year I was 34 I felt largely great about my age and experience. I recognized my constant ability to have fun as a talent. I became in some ways more confident in myself and in others asked more questions than ever before about who I am and what it means to be beautiful and how to connect with other people. I’m not perfect; I’m only 35. The year I was 34 I realized again how young that really is!!! So much life left!

[craziechwiv]

Dating someone super(human)

Ren: Thank you for coming on short notice.

Yang, about to sit down: What can i say? I was about to nap but when you came to me, I knew I was going to have me some peace and-

Ren: If you dare make a ninja pun, I will tell Blake about how much of a mess you really were when she left for her parents.

Yang immediately shuts her mouth, staring at Ren with a mixed eye color

Yang: Okay, rude. So, why did you need to talk to me about?

Ren: About Ruby and Jaune.

Yang: What about them?

Ren: Well...

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

In a hospital room, the rest of team JNPR are all looking at their leader, Jaune, as he eats some orange Jello without a care in the world. Meanwhile, his pelvis is completely shattered, lord knows how he is still alive or can be able to move his legs. And across from his team, his girlfriend Ruby isn't making eye contact with anyone, wanting to stare at the floor while her face matched her attire to a T.

Nora: Ren...

Ren: Right. Jaune, what happened?

Jaune: I got some Jello.

Ren, slapping his hand towards his face: That's not what I- Ruby.

Ruby: Y-Yeah?

Ren: What happened to Jaune?

Ruby: Uhm...personal training?

Ren: At least you gave me an answer.

Pyrrha: How are you...what's the right word?

Nora: How are you still moving and so happy about this?! I mean, don't get me wrong. When me and Renny do the-

Ren: NORA.

Jaune: My aura! I had it on nearly every time me and Ruby do it because, well I'm not surviving all THAT. For today however? It just so happens that she was....more pent up than usual.

Ruby then melts onto the floor as she heard Jaune's words. Making weeping sounds as well.

Pyrrha: Hm, I see. excuse me for a moment.

Pyrrha walks out of the room, trying to control her aura as everything metallic or magnetic follows her out.

Ren: sigh If she pulls out your life support, thisll be a teaching lesson.

Jaune: What's the teaching lesson for me dying?!

Ren: KNOWING WHEN TO LET 'IT' REST!

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

As Ren finished his story, Yang just looked at him with a petrified look while Ren looked at the imaginary watch on his wrist, thinking he broke Yang.

Yang:

Ren: So...

Yang: She used to watch-

Ren: Yes, yes. She used to be your darling, sweet, innocent, little sister. How about you tell her to try not to kill our leader by snu-snu anymore?

Yang, already crying: It feels like she was racking up her first slug on pee-paw's old shotgun...now she's just racking up white lead!

Ren: God damn it...how are we the future?

[baby-alien11]

Memories: The Drew Barrymore Show (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

taglist (open): @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2 @callsignwidow

Even if the premiere was the day before, and the only thing you wanted to do was sleep there was still media to be done, and that was going to the Drew Barrymore Show, you also had a zoom interview with Dead Meat the next month

Fortunately, you knew Drew since you were a child and Jack met her a few days ago, so the interview was going to be relaxed, and at first it was going to be a small part on the show and at last time they added a small game

Even though you wanted to sleep a little more, you and your team arrived earlier because they had to get you ready, and basically you were running on a Gotham Mocha and a Mermaid Acaí Bowl from a local coffee shop, and a Red Bull you grabbed from the kitchen room hotel was waiting for you in case you need it

Even though you were dressed in a long sleeved corset top, black leather shorts, black ankle boots, a golden necklace and golden earrings along with your ear piercings, and the team was straightening your hair and doing your make up, you were so asleep in the chair that you didn't hear when Jack and Anna arrived, nor even when Jack took a photo of both of you and a video doing a close up of your face

And instead of waking you up, they let you sleep a bit more, while Jack was getting ready

"At what time did you arrived?", Anna asked seeing your sleeping form curled in the make up chair

"We woke up at six a.m., we left the hotel at eight and grabbed breakfast, then we arrived and as soon as she finished her breakfast and got dressed, she fell asleep", Nora explained, "But she brought a Red Bull so she'll be awake by the time the interview arrives"

About half an hour later, a member of the staff anounced that you had to be in the set in ten minutes, meaning that your nap was coming to an end

"Angel, time to wake up", Anna said slightly shaking you up, "It's time for the interview"

"Hi", you yawned, "Good morning, what time is it?"

"It's interview time", Jack exclaimed giving you a kiss on the head, "Good morning, gorgeous"

"Good morning, babe", you smiled intervining your hands, "By the way, can someone pass me my Red Bull, please?"

During the whole ten minutes until both of you had to appear on camera, you drank the entire can of Red Bull and shared some sips with Jack since he was starting to fall asleep

"Hi guys, I'm so happy to see both of you", Drew exclaimed when both of you walked into the set, "You look amazing"

"Hi, auntie Drew", you greeted hugging her, "I missed you"

"I missed you too, I love the outfit", Drew complimented you before hugging Jack, "Hi, Jack"

"Hi, Drew", Jack answered, "Thank you for having us"

"At the contrary, I'm happy that both of you are here", Drew said, "So, what are we going to do is that we'll have a full interview and then we'll had a small Scream themed game"

Aproaching the small living room, both of you sat next to each other where it was indicated while the microphones were arranged, and Drew sat at the other end of the sofa

"We are joined today by two of the stars of the new fantastic film, I feel very lucky to have seen it, Scream VI, that's right, they are one of the publics favorite couples at the moment, she is a fashion icon in the making and daughter of the OG Ghostface, he is a cat dad to Butters, by the way I've been checking Butters instagram account, everybody, is Y/N Ulrich and Jack Champion!", Drew exclaimed causing applauses from the audience and both of you to smile at them, "Hi guys, welcome! I'm so happy that you are here with us"

"We are happy to be here", you smiled, "Thank you for inviting us"

"The moment I knew both of you were on the press list I knew you had to be here", Drew exclaimed, "Y/N, I've known you since you were a little girl, but Jack, we met just a few days ago"

"So, I was literally walking to go to Times Square with the directors Matt and Tyler, and then there was like some kind of filming thing, and then someone was like 'oh yeah, Drew Barrymore is filming' and I was like 'wait, what?', and my mom is like 'yeah, she's to your right', and I was like 'what' and you were just right there", Jack explained with enthusiasm

"And I said 'hello, I'm Casey Becker'"

"Yeah, you said you're Casey Becker", Jack nodded, "And then at first I was like 'Casey Becker? Oh my God Scream!' And it was so cool and random"

"And Y/N", Drew turned to look at you at what you smiled sweetly, "I can't believe how much you've grown, the first time we've met was when you and your siblings were less than ten years old, and now you are here sitting with us, I can't believe it"

"A lot of time has passed", you nodded

"I remember that your first aproach to Scream was your siblings putting a smaller version of the Ghostface costume on you", Drew continued at what you nodded, "And now you are part of the franchise, how does it feel?"

"It feels like a full circle moment", you responded, "Like, this franchise is part of my family, I watched the first four movies at eight years old, so being able to finally be part of it feels really special"

"Now, can any of you tell me anything about the movie?", Drew asked

"Oh, well, it takes place in New York, which is a big, exciting thing", Jack responded

"It's the first time they've done this", Drew commented

"Yeah, it's crazy", Jack nodded, "It's kinda like a new psycothic playground for Ghostface, you could say"

"And the fact that in the previous films the locations were Woodsboro and it's surrondings was like a small area, and now in the big city, you can find Ghostface in any part of the city", you mentioned

"Talking about big things, both of you are in a high right now, I mean, things are really going well, Jack, you had like, one day you got in Avengers, and another part in the same day", Drew exclaimed, "Tell us about that"

"Well, I was, I think I was like twelve years old and, like, I came home from my nanas, and my mom was like 'So I have some good news, you got the role, the small role in Avengers Endgame, and then you also got the screen test for Avatar, so we're gonna fly to Atlanta and then from Atlanta to LA' ans I had never been on the West Coast before, and I was like 'Oh my God', and now we live there"

"I mean, Avengers, Avatar, Scream", Drew listed, "And let's not forget about you, Y/N, and for those who don't now, my dear niece here, apart of being a content creator and model, participated in a lot of plays during her school years, do you mind telling us which roles you'd play?"

"Of course", you exclaimed, "I was Plumette in Beauty and the Beast, Sandy in Grease, Vanessa in The Little Mermaid, Matilda in Matilda, Eva in Bring It On, Penny in Hairspray, Cosette in Les Mis, Graziela in West Side Story, Chris Hargenssen in Carrie, and Sophie in Mamma Mia, even though we couldn't performed it properly because of COVID"

"You played a lot of multi-facetic and amazing roles", Drew pointed, "Which was your favorite?"

"Every single one has it's challenges, and I love playing them all, but I'm chosing Chris Hargenssen", you responded, "It was the role that I wanted with all my soul, I read the book multiple times, I watched all the version of Carrie including the sequel, listened to the soundtrack a lot of times, watched bootlegs of plays, so it was one of my most wanted roles"

"And if the opportunity to play it again, this time on a big stage, would you do it?"

"Of course, even though I want to become a VFX make up artist"

"Guys, both of you have a very bright future ahead of you, and I can't wait to be able to see it", Drew concluded with a motherly smile, "Ladies and gentleman, Jack Champion and Y/N Ulrich, Scream VI will be avaliable worldwide on march tenth, be sure to get your tickets, and don't change the channel because we will be playing a game in a few moments!"

Between the applauses of the public, the filming ended while the crew arranged the area for the game

"You know, I'm glad you are wearing shorts because of the game we are going to play", Drew said

"Auntie Drew, you are scaring me", you joked

A few minutes later, the three of you were standing in front of a Twister mat taped on the floor so it doesn't move while playing, and due to that, your hair was in a low ponytail, Jack wasn't wearing his BODE 'Winter Garden' shirt and neither of you were wearing your respective shoes (your socks that time were dinosaur themed)

"I'm fearing for the integrity of my Yves Saint Laurent shorts", you joked before start

"This is not a good idea after a night out", Jack nodded, "By the way, if we end up like one on top of another, I would preffer if you are in the top, if we fall at one point"

Looking at him with heart eyes, you got more closer to him to leave a kiss on his cheek while he circled your waist to help you to reach his height, which left him with brown lipstick in his cheek that he didn't care to clean when the filming started again

"We are back, and now we are going to play a game with Jack and Y/N, stars of Scream VI", Drew exclaimed, "Now, we are going to test your knowledge on the saga, but playing Twister, you'll have to answer ten questions, either of you can answer it or both at the same time, the important thing is to say it correctly, everything clear?"

When both of you nodded, Drew spinned the spinner to start the game

"Left hand red", Drew instructed at what both of you did the action, "First question, what was used as blood in the first movie?"

"Corn syrup and red food dye", you responded quickly

"That's correct", Drew nodded spinning the wheel again, "Left foot yellow, Roger L. Jackson is famously known for being the voice of Ghostface, but he also has another popular character in an animated series, which character is that?"

"Mojo Jojo of The Powerpuff Girls", Jack answered

"Correct; right foot red, which of the movies has the most deads of the franchise?"

For a moment both of you went silent remebering the deaths of all the movies

"It's the fourth one", Jack almost screamed, "Fourteen deaths"

"You gus are good in this", Drew pointed out, "Left hand blue, name every Ghostface from the first five movies"

"Billy, Stu, Nancy, Mickey, Roman, Jill, Charlie, Amber and Richie", you said quickly

"Perfect; left foot blue, which number of kill was my character, Casey Becker?"

"Second on screen, and third off screen", you said again, "By the way, sorry about what dad's character did to yours"

"Don't worry sweetie, it wasn't your fault; right foot green, how many times did Wes Craven rejected the project before accepting to direct it?"

"Two times", Jack responded

"Correct, you can do this kids, only four questions left; right hand red, what was going to be the original title of the saga?"

"Scary Movie", Jack answered again

"Left foot yellow, the sorority on Scream 2 also served as another house in another 90's movie, which movie is that?"

"Matilda, Trunchbull's house", you exclaimed

"Right foot blue, what is the song that sounds in every movie, except the fourth?"

"Red right hand by Nick Crave", Jack responded

"Guys, we are in the last question", Drew anounced causing the applauses of the audience, "Right hand green, what is the kill count in the franchise?"

"Holy cow", you sighed already feeling your arms failing out

"Think wisely, and remember all the movies", Drew adviced

Talking in low voice, both of you started to remember the movies and also the Dead Meat Kill Counts of the saga

"Fifthy! It's fifthy", both of you screamed at the same time

"That's correct", Drew exclaimed, "You won!"

Relieved that the game was over, Jack who was on the bottom of the strange tangled position laid down on the floor before you did the same thing but on top of his back, and then standing up to catch air again

"And here are your trophies", Drew exclaimed again as someone from the staff apeared with two bowie knives with the blade in gold, "Thank you so much for being here with us, Scream VI will be avaliable worldwide this friday so go get your tickets! Have a nice day everyone!"

With the last goodbyes, the filming ended with the applauses of the audience, and when the interview and game came out, it became viral on Twitter and Tik Tok

[humongousgothskeletonfarm]

TSC CHAPTER ELEVEN SPOILERS AHEAD

STARTING OFF THE CHAPTER STRONG AS FUCK DISASTER BISEXUAL JEAN MOREAU AWARENESS

picturing jean in a pair of raybans is good for my mental health

-

“Missed a couple spots. Need a hand?”

jeremy u flirt

-

do the trojans ever realise that jean is NOT IN FACT deaf and standing right in front of them when they are talking about him?

-

oh ok so chapter 11 is in fact worse than chapter 10

if anyone reading this has ever believed that they deserved the abuse, trauma/suffering they’ve experienced, i’m here to tell u right now that nobody deserves that and it is not ever ur fault, no matter what others might say or try to convince u. whatever happened to u is unequivocally not ok. please seek help from a professional if u are worried about urself or others in ur life.

if u have ever felt uncomfortable or violated in certain situations just know that no matter how ‘big’ or ‘small’ the situation may seem (i use these terms loosely because i do not believing in ranking peoples traumas), ur feelings are 100% valid and u always always deserve to be respected and heard.

i hope u know that u are not alone and never will be.

sending lots of love to all of u

-

wtff jenkins is a girl?? did we all know this or have i just read too many fanfics always thought jenkins was a guy?

-

It was sacrilegious even in the privacy of his head, and Jean hunched his shoulders against a blow that never came.

fuck that’s a good line. traumatic as fuck and makes me wanna cry for all these boys have gone through but god as an ex-catholic raised queer person i can tell u this line struck hard even though i cant relate to the specifics of the scene

-

Jean didn’t mind cooking, but he didn’t say that. This was the first time his room truly felt safe and right, and he was content to hold onto it for as long as he could. He closed his eyes again, but now his thoughts were snagged on Jeremy. At length he broke the silence to say, “Two beds would fit in here.”

jean moreau u are so loved

-

“You are not them,” Jean said. “Kevin would not have sent me here if you were.”

THE PARALLELS IN THIS BOOK ARE FUCKING KILLING ME PLS NORA LET ME LIVE IN PEACE THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME TO HANDLE

ANDREIL EXISTS IN EVERYTHING

-

Just because he had to meet with this man didn’t mean he had to speak to him.

jean, u diss aaron earlier in the books but really ur just the same as him

-

betsy dobson to the mother fuckibg rescue someone get this bitch a ‘worlds best therapist’ mug

and jean, dude do u know how fucking similar u and neil are, seriously like u guys should be besties like-

“It was not my choice,” he sent back in warning. “I do not need counseling.” He didn’t trust her at all, but there was no point spelling it out.

CHAPTER TWELVEE

dude wtf is it with me and napping while tryna finish this book, literally just accidentally fell asleep for 2.5 hrs when i could’ve been reading

-

“Imagine getting changed so we can practice,” Jean said.

king is fed uppp

-

“It’s not about size, anyway.” ​“Defensive,” Jean said, tugging his glove straps with his teeth. ​Jeremy straightened in indignation. “I don’t have anything to be defensive about.” Jean lost his grip and bit his lip, and Jeremy hurried on before either of them could think too much about that double entendre.

OKKKK JEREMY I SEE U

-

“That’s not—I do care. I want you to play with us, and I want you to have fun again. I want to see what you can do on the court and what you bring to our defense line. I want us to finally win this year after coming so close and failing too many times. But it’s just a game, Jean. Your safety and happiness will always be more important than our season.”

GOOD GOD ITS WHAT U DESERVE JEAN

-

“Every time you say that you take a year off my life. I’d really like to live to ninety, so please knock it off.”

now the trojans understand how the foxes feel when neil whips out his ‘im fine’ line,, also i’m never gonna stop saying that neil and jean should be besties it’s literally just a fact

“I do not believe you when you are drinking such filth,” Jean said, with a disapproving look toward her drink. Laila stared him down as she sucked a long gulp through the straw,

this book is so devastatingly depressing and explores some of the most horrible traumatic things that could happen to a person but it’s interspersed with some of the funniest scenes that it gives me whiplash

-

“Pat and Ananya have wanted to fuck Cody’s brains out for almost a year now. I really thought Cody moving in with them this summer was going to finally get that ball moving, but apparently not. It’s getting kind of pitiful.” ​“Pat and Ananya have been engaged almost as long as Cody has known them,” Laila pointed out as she fit herself against Cat’s side. “You can’t blame Cody for being scared of where they might belong in something like that.”

NORA GIVING US THE POLYAMORY WE DESERVE AFTER CUTTING KANDREIL FROM THE OG BOOKS LETS GO QUEER REP

YK THAT RUNNING JOKE THAT USC IS THE QUEEREST TEAM AND NOBODY HAS AS MANY GAYS AS THEY DO??? IM SO FUCKIBG HAPPY NORA HAS BASICALLY MADE THAT CANNON

-

CHAPTER 13333

jeremy is so hopelessly crushing on jean and that’s real of him

meanwhile jean:

Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth.

sureee buddy

-

They’d arrived holding hands and dressed in matching cream-and-teal outfits. Even their gold-rimmed sunglasses and teal sneakers were identical.

well that is definitely an outfit!

-

“Speaking of happy endings, has Laila bought you a sex toy yet?”

EXCUSE ME

this whole scene was so fucking random but jean deserves great friendships

-

ANOTHER TRANS TROJAN LETS FYCKING GOOOOOO CONGRATS ON UR TOP SURGERY XAVIER

-

‘i’m sure the ravens wouldn’t have taken neil in if they’d known he was the son of a mob boss!!’

uhhhhh…

i don’t know how to tell u this buddy

-

dude i just cannot stop think about the whole new world of fanfics we’re gonna get now that tsc has come out like the aftg universe is expanding and becoming more detailed it’s gonna be crazy

chapter 14!!!

-

Jean eyed him. “For what purpose?” ​Jeremy looked to the ceiling for patience. “For fun.” ​Jean sighed as if Jeremy was the one being unreasonable.

oh jean we’ll get there eventually

-

Jean was a starving dog on a short chain who’d learned years ago not to bite back.

OH MY FUCKING GOD GIVE ME PEACE

MY CHEST IS ACHING AT THIS METAPHOR

-

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP THE PARALLELS ARE DESTROYING ME I CANT FUCKING TAKE IT ANYMORE

“You are Jean Moreau. Your place is here with me, with us. I’m your captain. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to be doing this together, aren’t we? Stop leaving me behind. Look at me.”

-

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that he hurt you, I’m sorry that you’re still afraid to talk about it, and I’m sorry that you think I’ll never understand. I’m sorry that he tricked you into thinking you deserved it. But I’m not sorry he’s gone. I can’t be.”

“Neither am I.”

TEAR MY HEART OUT AND STOMP ON IT NORA JESUS CHRIST

-

everytime one of the trojans says ‘we’re here to listen whenever your ready to talk and open up to us’ and then they go and demand he tell them every secret he’s ever kept

-

kevin and jeans relationship in this book is so fucking well written, it’s tearing me apart and giving me so much life

they have so much shared trauma and the relationship is so complex but they understand eachother so deeply

He is not used to having a voice, and he has never had power. I cannot promise he will ever talk to you.” ​“I will wait as long as it takes,”

“Be careful with it,” Kevin said. “Be careful with him.”

-

“Night practices with Andrew and Neil,” Kevin said. ​“Obsessed,” Jeremy

exy fiend kevin day representation

also

“No, Jean is fine. As fine as he can be, anyway. Yes, I know.” (kevin when talking to someone ‘offscreen’) i just know he was talking to neil

-

She crossed the room and leaned over, catching Jean’s head in her hands so she could plant a kiss to the top of his head.

this is the love jean deserves

chapter 15:

“Your fourth line has a smart mouth, Coach,” Jean said. “I was hoping he would bite his tongue off in the fall and save us both some grief in the long run.”

jean i love u

-

Jean wished he had the common sense to shut up,

he’s so me

-

“And keep Kevin’s name out of your ignorant mouth,”

THEYRE SO IMPORTANT TO ME UR HONOUR

-

i keep forgetting that jean only learnt english after he moved into evermore and that kevin probably taught him but i love the subtle little reminders every now and then when he has to clarify a word, like when he has to ask what a ‘floozy’ is and:

due to egregious injuries.” ​Jean didn’t recognize that word, but since Lucas was already running his mouth, he didn’t get a chance to ask.

it’s such a good detail that just adds so much more depth to his character

-

“Permission to break his face, Coach?” Jean asked. ​“Denied,” White said.

SCREAMING

THIS IS SO NEIL AND WYMACK CODED I LOVE IT

-

JEAN MOREAU ON A MOTHERFUCKING MOTORCYCLE HOLY SHIT

catalina alvarez u wonderful human i love u

-

jean realising how big the world is and the fact that he’s explored more of california than any other place he’s been before is making me tear up he never should’ve been kept trapped inside he deserves to see the world

-

So long as she existed as fractured memories, she was safe and small and sheltered.

oh god don’t do this to me

-

Jean gazed out at the endless horizon, feeling small and infinite from one moment to the next.

beautiful, just beautiful, absolutely immaculate

A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads.

A COOL EVENING BREEZE. RAINBOWS. OPEN ROADS

-

SECOND LAST CHAPTER!!! LETS GOOO

“He is not going to hit you. Okay? We don’t do that here. You said you’d try to do better and that’s enough for us.”

starting off strong

-

You’re one of my kids now.

don’t mind me i’m just sobbing

-

no no no no no no no no no

holy shit no what the fucking fuck

don’t do this to jean rn oh my fucking god i’m sick to my stomach on the verge of fully crying right now

actually dreading reading on right now

-

um ok yeah so i read it and to anyone who hasn’t finished the book yet beware there is a graphic violent scene followed by an intense panic attack in chapter 16 that’s is very difficult to read

i did cry and all i can say is thank fuck for lisinski’s timing

-

Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.” ​“I do not want you to look.” ​It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie,

-

only redeeming part of this chapter is that neil’s back but i’m still in so much shock over what’s just happened that i cant properly appreciate him

chapter 17 the finale:

feeling incredibly somber as i reach the end of the book

please god destroy anyone who has ever hurt jean moreau

-

nora’s really filling in all the plot holes left from aftg - why did nobody question why neil’s hair was dyed after evermore ????? why did nobody question neil being at evernote in the first place???

-

i’m laughing at neil’s map print-outs he’s so uncool, also i keep forgetting this is still meant to be 2007

-

jean-yves moreau oh my fucking god

-

“says who?” Stuart asked. “The dead kid?

stuart hatford u are so funny, is this where neil inherited is sarcasm from?

stuart hatford says fuck riko and so do i

-

Neil shrugged. “Do you have anyone who can take on local work?”

NEIL JOSTEN U ARE MY HERO I LOVE U U BADASS MOTHER FUCKER

-

Neil offered her a disarming smile that would never sit quite right on his face.

devouring these scraps about my boy

-

YOOOO WTF NORA RLLY JUST WANTED TO GIVE JEAN THE WORST FUCKING DAY HE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE HUH?? JUST DROPPED THE FACT THAT HIS SISTER IS DEAD MY POOR BOY

-

Neil filled in the finer details with an ease that would have been impressive to listen to any other day

- yes neil is incredibly smart, thank u jean for confirming to us

-

The only thing left to ask for was something he barely understood: “I want to go home.”

oh the complicated nature of home and one’s sense of belonging that persists throughout these books will never fail to make me feel absolutely everything. nora knows exactly what i want in a book

-

“I can see the kitchen. There should be a door out to where the dumpsters are. We can make it back to the garage from there.”

to be loved by neil josten is to be offered a way to evade the fbi together

-

“Tedious,” Neil said. “I’m trying to eat.”

my hero

Neil waited until he was done before deciding he wanted to finish his drink. Neither agent was impressed with their absolute lack of urgency,

i love u neil josten pls give me ur autograph

Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to its front bumper and said, “That’s illegal, just so you know.” ​“Shut up and get in the car.”

i wish neil josten was real

-

He couldn’t fear a government who was so easily infiltrated and manipulated

FUCK THE GOVERNMENT

-

Neil flipped his takeout box open and started eating. “I’m allowed to visit people.”

he’s everything to me 🥰

-

“You’re one to accuse others of intolerable attitudes,” Browning said, and Neil only shrugged indifference.

and—for once—without any of your usual bullshit.”

- browning u love him just like the rest of us don’t lie rn

-

ngl i’m never getting over the fact that jean and neil are the same age like this is crazy to me nora whyd u have to do this i cant cope

-

“The more people I hold onto, the less of a threat I am, because I won’t want to endanger them by acting out.”

oh neil look how far uve come, i’m so proud

-

“Lock your door tonight if it will help, but Grayson will never bother you again.”

THANK U LORD FOR THE BRILLIANT NEIL JOSTEN HES ANSWERED MY PRAYERS U BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL HUMAN IM SO THANKFUL FOR UR PRESENCE

all my favourite bamf! neil fics have him taking out a hit on someone for the benefit of the people he loves and i’m so glad that’s canon

-

i’m going fucjing crazy i didnt think it was possible to love neil anymore than i already do

best friends ❤️

-

jean tearing up and throwing away the notebooks and realising he trusts the trojans and the four of them going to eat one of cats new recipes after they waited up last midnight for him

A COOL EVENING BREEZE RAINBOWS OPEN ROADS AND FRIENDS

!!!!!

I CSNT BELIEVE ITS OVERRRRR I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS HOLY FUCK

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | social media

disclaimer: photo credit to all original owners. they were found on google/pinterest/etc. someone requested some insta edits of mama from girl at home to see some more of her personality and I thought it would be really cute!! also marlee is going to be a new og character maybe

masterpost for girl at home

yourusername

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tagged: jaxhuxley

yourusername coffee dates w my bestie 🌞 thanks for getting my good angle Jaxon

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jaxhuxley hard to when you don't have a bad angle

user1 wait that's mat barzal's ex gf,,,, since when has she put her insta on public ⤷user2 are we sure that's her? ⤷user3 yeah i went to school with her.

lianabarzal MILF ⤷ user2 hold up MILF??? ⤷yourusername love u <3

yourusername

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yourusername don't let the smile fool you, there was nothing about the snow that I enjoyed

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marleejones how could it not be the best trip when it was with me?! ⤷yourusername bring me somewhere warm next time!

user2 did some digging and she and Mat are not following each other so guess they're on bad terms or something. ⤷user3 I heard he has a new girlfriend anyways so it doesn't rly matter

jaxhuxley I am glad i turned down the invite ⤷yourusername yeah I almost lost a toe from the cold ⤷yourusername anyways, someone had to watch Nora

user4 WHO IS NORA???

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yourusername two of my favorite things

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user1 what are you reading? ⤷ user2 ok why are we all suddenly invested in mat barzal's ex girlfriend?? ⤷user3 working on solving who Nora is

marleejones next time we'll all need to bring books

jaxhuxley yeah, ask when she's NOT reading

lianabarzal looking gorgeous as usual <3

yourusername

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yourusername my favorite days are with my mini-me even if they end in a nap

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user1 mat liked it omg ⤷user2 he's gotta be her dad ⤷user3 THE PLOT THICKENS

lianabarzal my favorite girlie <3 ⤷yourusername we love you!!

jaxhuxley I don't blame her, naps are the best ⤷marleejones i second that

user4 did he JUST find out about his kid?? ⤷user5 if it's even his kid lmao

yourusername

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yourusername my entire world.

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[howlingday]

Sun: Man... It must be nice having a harem. Having a bunch of beautiful women literally & metaphorically throwing themselves at you. How'd you do it?

Jaune: Ahahaha... I haven't slept for the past 3 weeks.

Sun, concerned: A-are you ok-?

Jaune, desperate: Please send help.

Ruby: Wait, why can't we go inside?

Sun: Dude needs his rest.

Weiss: He can get plenty of rest with his girlfriends next to him!

Neptune: Actually, the only one not getting plenty of rest is him. You're all on different cycles and Jaune is awake during all of them.

Blake: That's not right, is it? I mean, he gets a nap in the afternoon, right?

Yang: Er... Not really, since that's when I usually get him during our "workout" sessions.

Pyrrha: And I take up most of his evenings with our nightly sparring, but we're both in bed by midnight.

Blake: ...

Ren: Blake?

Blake: (Sighs) And then I come in for a quickie.

Yang: Really gotta get your midnight snack in, huh~?

Weiss: Honestly, you're all just deplorable!

Sun: Actually, he says you take up most of his time. He feels like you need the most attention out of everyone.

Weiss: (Scoffs) That is not true!

Ruby: Well, I usually have coffee with him in the morning, and that goes on for about an hour. (6-7)

Blake: I spend most of the night with him until about dawn. (0-6)

Yang: I'm working out with him from 'til about dinnertime. (14-18)

Pyrrha: And after dinner is when we're training. (18-0)

Weiss: ...

Nora: So... How long do YOU spend time with him, Weiss~?

Weiss: ... (7-14)

Yang: (Whistles) Damn, you really do take up his time, don't you?

Weiss: I HAVE PARTICULAR NEEDS, OKAY?!

Sun: Hey, hey, keep it down! A man is trying to get his sleep!

Meanwhile, inside Jaune's bed...

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | fic rec fridays ]

hi all! :D happy december! I've read so many amazing fics this past month and the tbr list just keeps on growing! I wanted to share some here so they don't get lost in the shuffle!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

that said, happy reading and enjoy! <3

in no particular order --

(i would stay forever if you said) don't go | @coffeecatsme | T+ | 6k

The words echo in his head, unbidden. The words from another life, practically another universe, shoved inside the small walls of a gilded cage, hidden in a room in London with shuttered windows and locked doors. A boy’s voice Henry still remembers ten years later, when he doesn’t quite remember what he had for lunch the day before. A boy’s voice on a phone that understood him better than every member of his family, even an ocean, a continent, three thousand miles away. A boy’s voice that told him in no uncertain terms that it was okay if he wasn’t okay, that allowed him to pave a path until he was. To open a new shelter in New York City, Henry needs to interview a host of potential lawyers to hire. He doesn't expect one of them to be the boy that saved his life ten years ago.

(mind the tags!)

a rich and complex tapestry | @everwitch-magiks | E | 8k

When Alex first hooks up with Henry, he's expecting a fun one-night-stand and maybe the occasional booty call. He does not expect to get so completely pulled into Henry’s orbit that it forces him to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about his sexuality. And he's not sure if it makes it better, or way worse, that Henry is actually a professional at all this stuff — what are the odds that Alex would hook up with the one guy on campus who hosts his own radio show about sex? 'Sleeping With Henry' is about to gain one devoted listener.

outta luck to spend | potentiallyunloveable | T+ | 9k

“Nora ignorin’ ya?” a voice says from beside him, and Henry startles, turns to his left, is suddenly frozen. The man who’s slid into the seat next to him, silently, without Henry noticing, is quite possibly the most beautiful man Henry’s ever seen in his life. He’s got the widest smile, sweet dimples, soft brown skin and impossibly long eyelashes. He’s wearing a fucking Stetson, and Henry feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. Or: Henry (lost, hopeless) meets Alex (bright, hopeful), in a bar in Texas.

(mind the tags!)

everything's growing in our garden | @matherines | T+ | 7k

That night, in the safety of his hotel room on the outskirts of the Olympic Village, Henry couldn’t catch his breath. He coughed and coughed, feeling like he was choking on nothing, but there was a scratching sensation in his throat that he just couldn’t shake – until a single blue petal flew past his lips, landing in the porcelain bowl of the sink. After an hour of painstaking Googling, he learns that it’s a Texas bluebonnet. He also learns what the fact that he’s coughing up petals means – the beginning stages of Hanahaki Disease. Rare, but not unheard of, according to the NHS website he browses in an incognito tab. Common in royal bloodlines (thank you, inbreeding). "Only curable if the afflicted’s love is requited with a declaration," he reads, and slams his laptop closed with a bitter laugh, wet with tears. "A surgical procedure removing the afflicted’s capacity for love may be performed if the love remains unrequited. Otherwise, the condition is terminal." So, then. He has no chance.

ocean waves | seafloor | E | 10k

Henry Fox wakes up with a toothache one morning, and has a lot of feelings about certain things for days afterwards.

while you were sleeping (I fell in love) | @kill8a | M | 3k

As their relationship progresses, Alex notices that Henry’s sleeping habits start to progress as well. Notably, more naps, less insomnia, and a knack for falling asleep at any hour of the day.

So I Will Weather The Storm | @sparklepocalypse | E | 9k

They’re in the air twenty minutes before the next report comes in, this time over their headsets. “Patient is located on the eastern side of Sgòr Gaoith. He reports a sudden snow squall came up, and he lost his footing and took a fall. He’s conscious and reports no major injuries, but he’s stuck on a ledge and can’t make it back to the trail. Patient is wearing a red jacket and a black knit cap and states his name is – ” there’s a burst of static over the radio. “Please repeat the patient’s name,” Henry says into the headset mic as Schlosser programs the mountain’s location into the GPS. There’s a bit more static, and then the dispatcher states, “Alexander Claremont-Diaz.” (Or, a movieverse canon divergent AU wherein Henry is in the RAF and Cakegate still takes place, but the PR campaign doesn't happen – and two months after Cakegate, Alex does something dumb on a mountain in Scotland.)

crawl | ironwords | E | 6k

“Well,” Alex says. He swallows, mouth dry. Closes his eyes, takes the hand not in Henry’s and runs it along his tummy, up and up to his bottom rib and then up over that as well. The skin is soft, but the bones under them are hard, firm under Alex’s palm; his fingers dance over the spaces and grooves, feeling along the edges of bone and dipping into the empty space between. Deep breath: in, out. In again, hold it for a few seconds, then out. Then: “I want to, like. Be in you.” Oh wow. Nice one, Alex. Awesome phrasing. Fucking great job.

'til the walls did crumble and | @ninzied | E | 5k

So much for using the wrong fork at dinner. He’s pretty sure this is a thousand times worse. Hundred-thousand? Nora could give him the exact number. Also, he’s pretty sure there’s still buttercream on his ass. (Or, Alex has his bisexual awakening in a bathroom at Buckingham Palace, and also finds leftover cake in Henry’s hair. The two things are not not related.)

Moon Bride (To Have and To Hold) | satinbirds | M | 7k

When the man is brought before him, it’s as if the whole world stops. Clad in delicate gossamer, his apparent frailty is accentuated by the sheer fabric. It is likely a cheap attempt to entice him, yet it only elicits displeasure from the king. He already wishes to dress this fragile figure in the veil of his people, cover him from invidious and lustful eyes.

It's Called Tact, Fuck-Rag! | @largepeachicedtea | E | 12k

Texas had been an odd choice, some might say. Henry thinks it's perfect. College is a time to go crazy, after all. (A Scream AU)

(mind the tags!)

Aftercare | @whimsymanaged | M | 2k

When Alex has an intense hookup without aftercare, he finds himself on his best friend Henry’s doorstep in desperate need of looking after.

--

that's all for now!! hoping to get some more free time this month to read once I finish up some wips! be kind to one another this holiday season, and happy reading! :D

-- sarah / anincompletelist xx

[thewulf]

Thank God For You || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - My friend’s husband just got back from an eight month tour and their first baby was born about a month before he left. Now that he’s back any time he tries to comfort the baby or take care of him alone the baby gets more fussy and upset... Read Rest Here

A/N: So sorry I'm so slow these days. Work is kicking my butt. Here's a cute lil one to tide you guys over until things slow down! Loved this one. It's shorter but oh so sweet. Love Jake as always!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 1.2k +

“Babe!” You ran down the stairs of your home stopping by the front door to look for your keys. You were still getting used to Jake being home after nine months away. He was shipped off to who knows what country, he couldn’t ever tell you, classification and what not, only three months after your daughter was born. Still being the emotional wreck you were, his mom moved in for a few months to help you out. And she actually did help. Her being there was literally your saving grace.

Jake walked out of the kitchen with a smile on his face. You, of course, had to return the smile to him. You’d missed him so damn much, “Hey.” He walked over to you stopping just shy of where you were.

“Hey.” Grinning, your eyes traced his face making sure to memorize every little detail you could. He loved his job, and you knew it, you just wished and prayed he didn’t have to go away for so long. But you knew what you were getting into all those years ago.

“You called?” He reminded you giving you a playful smirk when your eyes snapped back to reality.

“Yeah, I did.” You nodded, “I’m heading out to meet Allie at the mall. Nora’s down for her nap. She’ll need to be fed at three. Call me if you need anything. You got this babe.” You kissed his cheek trying to reassure the nervous father. He wouldn’t outright say it to you, but you weren’t dumb. You could see the hesitation, the looks over to you to make sure he was doing it right. It was hard and he was relearning it all with a brand-new baby to him. When he left she was barely three months and now she was becoming a toddler right before your eyes, almost a year old.

Nora Anne Seresin was a light to your life. She taught you so much about yourself. What unconditional love really looked like. You loved Jake, through and through but he could leave. You could never leave Nora, not ever. You finally understood what it meant, what all those moms said for years.

Jake picked out her name without even knowing it. He was putting names together after the two of you had found out you were pregnant. He was trying to mash up names like they had in Twilight. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t be giddier and happier. When he mentioned Nora for his mom and Anne for your grandma it just worked. You’d called the baby Nora all the way up to her birth, you certainly couldn’t have changed it then.

Jake nodded back to you, “Can you make it home by 3:10?” He asked.

“I’ll try, but you’ll be just fine. She loves you. She’s just got to get used to you again.” You squeezed his shoulder.

“Love you.” He pulled you back in for a hug before letting you go.

“And I love you.” You shut the door behind you praying Nora wouldn’t make a fuss.

But boy were you wrong. When you walked through the front door at 3:30 it looked like a bomb went off. And you heard Nora screaming from the kitchen. Poor Jake. Poor Nora. You sighed setting your purse down before heading to the scene of the crime.

“Oh, thank God.” Jake audibly let out a sigh of immense relief when he spotted you in the kitchen, “She won’t eat.”

You walked over taking the bottle from your overly stressed husband, “It’s okay. She might not be hungry.” Setting it down on the counter you motioned for him to follow you with the fussy baby in his arms.

He looked perplexed, “We’re not starving her?”

Oh, your poor confused husband. Clueless as all get out. Not that you minded, he was on a ship and couldn’t exactly do research on them. He was used to the newborn who sucked down food almost every hour on the hour, “No, she’ll let us know when she’s hungry. I try to keep her on track. 7:00, 11:00, 3:00 and 8:00. But sometimes she’s just not hungry.” You sat down on the couch patting the seat beside you.

He sat down with the red cheeked fussy baby in his arms, “You’re stressing your papa out Norrie.” You poked your daughter on the nose trying to distract her. She was confused. Her world as flipped upside down too.

She looked right at you giving you the biggest grin with that happy toddler giggle that made your heart soar, “That’s right, yes you are.” You poked her again earning another round of giggles and laughter.

Jake was looking down watching the entire interaction a bit defeated. His daughter wanted nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. When he tried to hand Nora off to you, you simply refused knowing how much they both needed this. She knew you, trusted you. She was just learning Jake. She needed to trust his scent, his touch, and his voice too. Jake pulled her back into his side. She looked to you, when you gave her a nod and smile she seemed to finally give in. Resting her head on Jakes chest he watched as her tiredness overcame her stubbornness. Her bright eyes drifted off into a sleep. You watched Jake as he watched Nora. He too was looking at her like you were looking at him earlier, studying her face.

When he looked back at you there was that sadness there that you’d seen earlier, “What’s wrong J?” You asked him, pulling him right out of his own thoughts.

He sighed looking away from you. Was he embarrassed? “Jake?” You asked again in a softer tone.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me honey.” He admitted in low tone, almost so you couldn’t hear him.

“She’s learning you.” You grabbed his free hand that wasn’t holding her close, “This is so new to her. She’s only known me. Look at her. That’s not the baby girl you had to leave nine months ago. She’s brand new. Brand new almost every day. It’s a pleasure to watch.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “And look at her, she’s sleeping on you babe. That wouldn’t have happened last week. Cut yourself a break, you’ve been home for a week.” You prayed that your words meant something to him.

He nodded looking back and forth between the two of you, “How do you always know what to say?”

You grinned, “That’s why you married me? Remember?”

He grinned before shooting you a mischievous wink, “If I wasn’t holding this baby right now I’d be putting another one inside you right now.” He contained his laughter seeing your eyes widen in shock. He just knew exactly what to say.

You threw your hand over your mouth trying your best not to gasp and wake poor Nora up, “Jake!”

He shrugged, “What? It’s true. You’re more beautiful than I remember my dear. So damn gorgeous.”

You shook your head trying to hide that blush he always seemed to get out of you, no matter how many years you’d been together now, “Thank God for Nora.” You winked right back at him playing the game he was so good at.

“Thank God for you.” His gaze gave away just how much he really did care for you.

Biting your cheek to hide the massive smile you stood from the couch letting the two of them bond alone, “You’re a sap Jake Seresin.”

He nodded right along, “Only for you my dear. Only for you.”

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