#(see the poptarts and other snacks i put in the pantry)

[brittbax]

😤

[elizabeethan]

Safe 1 / 1

Killian finds a safe in Emma's closet and nearly loses his mind trying to figure out what she's hiding.

I'm not saying this is the start of another fic in this universe, but I'm also not not saying that.

This picks up a few weeks after the ending of The Days We Defend (Will Turn to Gold)

Read on Ao3

Rated T I guess

1441 words

For @the-darkdragonfly, who likes to beg me for more Corrine

~~~~

It started out as nothing. It should still be nothing, really, but he’s let that ship sail long ago. The curiosity got the better of him, and he’s been losing his mind ever since. 

 It’s easy to expect the worst. He and Emma have discussed the unpredictability of her magic, what with her pregnancy and recent curse and subsequent traumatic events, and he thought that they were on the same page with her taking it easy. She’s only a few months along, just starting to show, and she’s been totally on board with his suggestion that using magic she can’t fully understand, with few resources to help her, could be dangerous. 

 But then he found the damn safe. 

 He had no idea she owned it, but he probably shouldn’t be surprised. Based on who she was before he knew her, he can’t be shocked at the knowledge that she has secrets. But still, he’s worried. He’s worried at the thought of her needing to keep things from him. He's worried at the idea that she may not feel she can trust him with every aspect of her life. He's worried that she’s keeping something magical and dangerous locked away in their closet and not telling him about it. 

 This is what he gets for doing the laundry, he supposes. It’s a cursed task, to be sure. 

He didn’t mean to at first. He didn’t intend to try and break it open. But when he found himself punching in 1-2-3-4 and then 1-0-2-3 and then 0-8-1-6 and then 0-6-2-4, he realized how insane he was acting. Trying to hack into her safe using her family’s dates of birth was insane. Trying to violate his fiance’s trust by hacking into her locked safe was completely insane. Not to mention, diabolical. 

 But then he found himself going even more insane, trying to pry the heavy metal door open with his hook when the combinations he guessed failed. The safe was small enough, mounted into the wall and hidden behind a myriad of dresses hanging from the bar in the closet. There’s nothing to even say that there's even anything inside. But for some reason, he can’t help but to picture the worst. He pictures a magic dagger powerful enough to destroy everything they hold dear. He pictures a magic bean that could rip their family apart. He pictures the hat that holds the ominous power of the Dark One. 

 He wonders why he can’t trust his fiance. 

 He should’ve heard the front door open and slam shut. He should’ve heard his toddler tromping up the stairs and running to his room to greet him. 

 “Daddy, what doing there?” she asks pensively, leaning against the doorframe exactly as she’s watched her father do. 

 “Well, hello, my love. I’m just finishing up. How was Mimi?” 

 “What doing?” she asks again, crossing her tiny arms over her chest. “Landy?” 

 He clears his throat and stands, feeling a burn in his knees as he realizes how long he’s been sitting here trying to violate his love’s trust. “Yes, angel, I’m just doing some laundry.” 

 “Mommy!” she screams, turning towards the door that leads out to the hallway as he hears Emma’s footsteps approaching. “Daddy does landy.” 

 “Does he?” Emma asks, smiling and cocking her head to the right as she takes in the sight before her: Killian standing and groaning as he brushes off the backs of his legs. “Isn’t that nice of him.” 

 He recognizes the suspicious smile on her face immediately as she bites her bottom lip and raises a brow at him. “Yes,” Corrine confirms, ratting out her father just like the pirate he knew she would become. “See?” 

 “Yes,” Emma responds, smiling down at their daughter. “I do see. I see your daddy fiddling with things that don’t belong to him.” 

 “Ah, well,” he laughs nervously, scratching behind his ear and clearing his throat. “It certainly is lovely to see you both.” 

 “I’m sure it is,” she rolls her eyes in response, stepping towards him and placing a chaste kiss to his cheek just beside his mouth. “0-9-1-8.”

 “Pardon?” he asks in confusion. 

 “The combination,” she clarifies. “0-9-1-8. September 18th; the day you found me in New York.” 

 “Swan,” he starts, his guilt manifesting into something out of his control. “I meant not to…” 

 She giggles at him as she moves into the closet, Corrine mimicking the sound, and punches in the code. The door opens easily and he rolls his eyes as he recalls the effort he had put forth in opening it, thinking himself a fool for even trying. When the door swings open and reveals it’s contents, he wants to bury his head in the sand to quell the embarrassment that plagues him. 

It’s filled with snacks. Bags and bags of chips, poptarts, candies… all of the things she craves and he refuses to let her eat in excess. 

 “You won’t let me keep them in the pantry, so I hide them up here,” she explains. “I’m sorry for being dishonest.” 

 Bloody hell. If there’s one thing that can make him feel even worse about his foolishness, it’s her apologizing to him. “Love, I should--” 

 “I want that one!” Corrine shouts, pointing at the small pastry wrapped in clear plastic. “Mommy, I can have it?” 

 “Now look what you’ve done,” she jokes, playfully rolling her eyes at Killian. “Come on, Coco. Let’s have an apple with this Honey Bun.” 

 ~~~~

 Later in the evening, when they’re sated and panting and she curls into his side to squeeze him tight, his guilt takes over again as the thoughts of what he expected to find in her secret hiding place plague his mind. He’s always quick to ask her to trust him, and he feels as though he’s failed her for not doing so in return. Why he couldn’t let it go-- why he couldn’t tell himself that she wouldn’t dabble in dangerous magic and hide it from him-- he isn’t sure. 

 “What’s going on in there?” she asks when her breathing steadies, lifting her arm from his torso and brushing her fingers along his temple. 

 He smiles down at her and says, “nothing, love. I apologize if I seem distracted.” 

 “Is this about earlier?” she asks thoughtfully, cupping his neck with her palm and stroking her thumb along the line of his jaw. “The safe? Are you mad because I kept it from you?” 

 “No, Swan, never. I only… well, I suppose I should apologize for that. I shouldn’t have attempted to violate your privacy like I did.” 

 She sighs and hugs him close again, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, and whispers, “why did you?”

 Remaining still and silent, he allows the darkness of the room to trick him into a false sense of security. He knows why he did it; he knows it’s because he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months since they broke the last curse. The last curse, because they’ve been cursed countless times before. And with a new baby on the way… he isn’t sure how to care for a newborn with one hand, never mind with some new form of dark magic potentially threatening them. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers. “I suppose I’m just…” 

 “Waiting for something bad to happen?” 

 “Aye,” he breathes in relief, because of course she would know exactly how he’s feeling and what he’s thinking. “We’ve certainly had our fair share of challenges.” 

 ��The dagger is right where we left it,” she promises. “It’s safe, locked away in the basement where it can’t escape. Me and The Apprentice put a spell on it, remember? I promise, nothing is going to happen to us.” Her words are forceful and confident, but her tone is anything but. 

 “Aye, love, you’re right. I’m sorry for doubting you.” 

 “Good. Now, it’s time to move on from this, because only one of us is allowed to freak out at a time and if you're scared, I’m definitely going to get scared soon.” 

 Kissing her temple, he holds her tighter and focuses on the sounds of their breathing filling the silent room. “You don’t have to be scared,” he finally tells her. “Everything is going to be alright. I’m sorry I had a momentary bout of insanity earlier.” 

 “It’s okay,” she whispers. “I love you.” 

 “I love you, too,” he promises, trying his hardest to put aside his assumptions that something catastrophic is about to happen and instead enjoy being here by her side. As if reminding himself as much as her, he says, “we’re alright, love,” before they both drift off to sleep.

~~~~

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[wndamaximov]

How I Met Your-

Natasha Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Summary: After joining the Avengers, you immediately felt at home with all of them- except for Natasha, and she wants to get to the bottom of why.

Words: 808

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Reader, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark(mentioned), Steve Rogers(mentioned), Thor(mentioned)

Natasha had been married to you for ages. You’d had kids that grew up alongside the Stark-Rogers; they all went to school together, and Nat and y/n had a carpool situation going on with Steve and Tony.

One day, they’d come home, curious about how the two of you met. When asked why, they replied that Uncle Tony told the story of how he and Uncle Steve had met, and complained that they didn’t know how their mothers met. So Natasha told them.

❃.✮:▹　　◃:✮.❃

Natasha wandered through the endless hallways of Stark Tower, running her fingers along the walls and shooting glares at anyone who questioned what she was doing. She had nothing on the schedule for today, and that’s what she was doing- nothing.

A couple months ago, Cap and Tony had found an enhanced individual with abilities on par with the ones Wanda had, and a skill set similar to her own. Nat had looked forward to getting to know her, maybe show her around a bit, but she went straight past her for Wanda.

It seemed she got along with everyone exceptionally well, that is, with everyone but her.

Natasha had never really been one for crushes, but it seemed that you were the exception. Koi no yokan. She was suddenly reminded of that phrase- knowing that you and another person will end up together, even without having feelings for them first.

It started like that with you. Nat had come to appreciate every one of your quirks, the way your mouth twisted up into a smile every time Tony was being stupid, the shine in your eyes when Thor brought you poptarts, and the half-grimace/half-smirk you shared with Wanda when the boys were being stupid. You had a special smile for everyone, everyone but her.

Whenever Nat walked into the room, you would promptly leave. You never even bothered to make eye contact with her, which hurt, in a way it had never hurt before.

Eventually, Nat found her way into the living room, devoid of any of the other Avengers. Perfect.

She climbed up onto one of the shelves, pulled out a container of cereal, poured it into a bowl, and began shoveling it angrily into her mouth. God, she was hungry.

While enjoying her mid-afternoon snack, Nat heard footsteps getting closer and closer. She retreated into on of the top racks in the pantry, shaping herself into a tight, but not uncomfortable position. Soon, she could hear voices.

“You should go easier on her, y/n.” Crap. It was Wanda, and with her, y/n.

“I know, but every time I see her, I just, agh!” From what she could hear, it seemed like you had just flopped onto a couch. “She just makes me so nervous!”

“Maybe if you talked to her, you’d find out that she’s not as scary as she looks. Okay, that’s a lie- she’s as scary as she looks.” Damn it Wanda, not helping.

“I thought you were supposed to make me feel better.”

“What I meant was, Nat is downright terrifying sometimes, but she’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You won’t regret talking to her, I promise.” She silently thanked Wanda and put another piece of cereal in her mouth, almost forgetting the bowl was still in her hands.

“I already have this speech planned. It’s dumb, I know, but I don’t know how to ask a former assassin out on a date. They don’t exactly have a class for it.” 

At this, Nat leaned closer to the door, not wanting to forget your voice. It was the longest she’d ever heard you speak, and you just confessed your feelings for her. Granted, you didn’t know she was there, but it’s the thought that counts. Natasha placed her hand on the door the second she heard you start talking again, which was the biggest mistake, soon to become miracle, she’d ever made.

The door came tumbling open, and Nat fell out, cereal bowl and all. She landed on the floor, not gracefully at all, but she made up for it by jumping back on her feet as quick as she could.

“Rumor has it, I make you nervous,” she said, giving you a wink, one she’d never used until now. This one actually meant something.

Wringing her fingers together, nervous for one of the first times, she asked, “Want to go out for coffee with me?”

“Su-sure?” You still looked pretty shaken from seeing the red-head’s entrance from within the pantry.

Success on the first try. Natasha couldn’t remember what she had been so scared about anymore. “Great! It’s settled then- Coco’s at 2 tomorrow. I still want to hear that speech though.”

❃.✮:▹　　◃:✮.❃

“And that kids, is how I met your mother.”

❃.✮:▹　　◃:✮.❃

Congratulations- you made it to the end! Please don’t be afraid to reblog, comment, or both.

Angels: @rebelwriter95 @jll72-blog

How I Met Your- : @hollandsthot  @theadventurousqueen @jim-the-fallen-fan 

Ask to be in my Natasha tags!

[conquerorofshamballa2-blog]

This could not be more last minute lol

Sorry @tsumi-alchemist​ but you got stuck with the worst procrastinator on the planet for your @fmasecretsanta2018​. Here’s some royed domestic college AU fluff and smut for ya, hope you enjoy :)

Roy tapped his foot against the linoleum floors of their kitchen as he thought to himself, mulling Ed's question to him over in his head. But it was hard to think when he’s getting glared at impatiently, no matter much he loves those fiery eyes.

"Yes or no question, Roy."

"Don't play that card with me. You know it's more complicated than that." Nothing is ever complicated to Ed. Roy wishes he could live with that kind of clarity, knowing so strongly with all his being right from wrong, seeing the world in stark, contrasting colors. At least he’s had the comfort of getting to see the world in golden brilliance ever since Ed came into his life.

Ed huffs in annoyance, which is his typical response when Roy dares to make words with his mouth, as if he could ever be correct. Or at least, as correct as Ed is. "Fine. Okay... what if it's guaranteed that neither of us will get hurt?"

Well, that does make things simpler. Roy crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, hand coming up to stroke his chin as he watches Ed raid their pantry. He'll never understand how he can come home from movies hungry, after hoovering up both his own and half of Roy's popcorn like his body was fueled solely by salt and butter and he was close to dying.

"Hm... that does make it more tempting, but... no. No, I wouldn't let a symbiote enter our relationship."

Ed scoffs at him. "Coward."

"Selfish." Roy corrects him with an amused smile. "I simply don't want to share you."

Ed finally finds something that pleases him, kicking the cupboard door shut behind him as he unwraps the tinfoil prize in his hand, chomping into the poptart with gusto. And Lord, Roy loves him. How can he make the most barbaric behaviors come off as irresistibly charming?

“No wonder you changed your career choice.” He says with a mouthful of the cardboard snack, spraying crumbs as he talks. “You’d make a lousy scientist.”

“And what makes you say that?” Roy asks, though he doesn’t question Ed’s judgement on the matter. He’s barely an adult and already halfway through his PhD program, plowing through courses at a rate that makes even the coldest, most sardonic professors at their university worry about his health. His mind is as brilliant as the golden hair that halos him, and Roy marvels at being allowed to take up space in that ever whirring mind.

Meanwhile, Roy was at a loss with what to do with his BS in chemistry when he first graduated, not knowing how to structure his life outside of school. After a particularly miserable stint in the military, he returned with new purpose, finding a home in politics. He was a little behind, however, having to start over and now still working towards his MS in polisci at the tail end of his 20s.

He wouldn’t change any of it, though. Not at the risk of never meeting the incredible man standing barefoot with a mouth full of sugary sand in his kitchen. That’s the one good thing that came out of his now useless chemistry degree; the ability to sign up as a TA for the class he met Edward in. He’ll never forget that first meeting, a furious angel with looks that could kill storming into his borrowed office, failed assignment in hand and mouth already running. Roy could barely keep up with the colorful, creative insults (mostly aimed at his intelligence) hurled his way, partly because he was too taken aback by suddenly being face to face with the most beautiful human being he had ever seen in his life.

After finally calming him down and getting to take another look at his assignment, Roy was able to confirm that yes, Ed did get everything correct, and my apologies, I must have mixed your grade up with another student’s, and also, would you like to get coffee sometime?

The ridiculous, gawking look Ed had given him was almost worth the sting of rejection he felt when he stomped out of his office, slamming the door hard enough to knock off some professor’s doctoral degree that had been hanging on the wall, glass front shattering.

It wasn’t an entirely surprising reaction, considering what he had quickly learned about the young man’s temper within that brief meeting. What was surprising was when a familiar, golden wreathed angel stomped right back up to him in class the next day, shoving a scrap of paper with a cell number hastily scribbled on it into Roy’s hands before stomp stomp stomping away again without a single word.

It was a rare occurrence for Roy, getting surprised. He knew instantly this could be something special, something real.

“What makes me say that,” Ed starts, pulling Roy out of his nostalgic reverie, “is that any scientist worth their salt would not hesitate to fuck Venom. Or fuck their boyfriend while being bonded to Venom.”

Yes. This has absolutely become something very, very special.

“Well, I’m happy to know where your mind was at while we were watching that movie.” Roy says dryly, frowning at the crumbs that were now dusting his previously clean floor.

“My mind was at science. Shut up, everything I say makes perfect sense.” He commands before Roy gets the chance to tease him for his wording. “I mean, how can you not wonder at the logistics of it?”

“I also wonder at the logistics of cloning and creating advanced AIs that could one day destroy us all, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to do it.”

“Because you’re a coward.” Ed reiderates, putting the half eaten poptart, unwrapped, back in the cupboard, because he’s a savage.

“I already feel sorry for the poor ethics committee members who are going to have the misfortune of dealing with your bullheadedness once you start leading your own research projects.”

“Good, somebody has to. Cause I sure as hell won’t.”

“I’m aware.” Roy says with a sigh, making a mental note to sweep his kitchen later. “Are you aware that when we get mice, you’re the one who’s going to have to get rid of them?”

“I’m aware that I’ve been living here for a year and I haven’t seen a single mouse yet. Clearly I’m not as much as a slob as you think.” He retorts, leaving the kitchen behind so he can flop down on the couch in the living room.

Roy’s train of thought is completely thrown off by that statement, and he joins him silently without anymore witty remarks. “... Has it really been a year?”

“Almost. In about a month.” He sighs and closes his eyes, stretched out on the couch like a lazy cat soaking up sunlight. Roy sits on the opposite end, muscle memory commanding him to pick up Ed’s flesh foot and start rubbing, thumbs digging into his pressure points.

“That means it’s your birthday soon. I’ll finally be able to take you out for a drink.” He muses, already trying to figure out which bar Ed would like best.

“Who says I wanna go drinking with you, old man? 21’s a big milestone, I’m supposed to party all night. You like to be in bed by nine.” He mocks him, face scrunching up before the initial pain turns into pleasure, expression melting into a more relaxed state.

“You wound me, Edward. Also, I know for a fact that you’d rather help Professor Izumi grade undergrad papers than stay at a bar all night long.”

“And that’s sayin’ something.” Ed mumbles miserably, lifting up his arms so he can interlock his hands behind his head. “Win and Ling will still make me, though. Nothing says a good time like mandatory fun.” He pauses, then, before looking up at Roy with unsureness in his eyes. “I was joking, you know. You’ll come, right? It’s gonna be miserable anyway, but it will be beyond miserable without you there to distract me.”

Roy smiles at him reassuringly, thumbs pressing into the bridge of his feet as he runs them slowly up and down. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

The dusting of pink that coats Ed’s cheeks is delightful, and Roy can’t help but stare at it. He shyly looks away, suddenly very interested in inspecting the couch cushions. Ed never did quite get the hang of pet names, which means Roy uses them as often as possible.

“Sweetie. Sugar. Honey. Pudding. Pumpkin.” Roy’s smirk gets more and more devious as the list goes one, voice dripping with increasing amounts of fake, syrupy sweetness with every word.

That smirk transforms into a wide, laughing grin when he has to raise his arms to block the decorative pillow being hurled at him. He throws it back, of course, though not quite as hard. This turns into Ed holding onto the pillow as he batters Roy with it, which turns into Roy absconding from the couch to get extra ammo from the armchair. That turns into Ed chasing him, which turns into Roy running for dear life, stumbling into their bedroom to grab the bigger, bulkier pillows.

Things only escalate from there, the two of them ducking up and down from hiding behind their sides of the bed, taking pillows to the face and arms and tossing them back across the mattress. Ed’s loud, bright laughter fills the room when Roy vaults up onto Ed’s side of the bed, reaching down to pull him up onto the bed with him. His laugh is highly infectious, Roy laughing along with him as the battle continues in close combat, both their sides and chests getting pummeled by the plump, soft weapons. It ends with Ed collapsing backwards, Roy following and leaning over him as they both keep laughing, faces red from the exertion, panting and breathing in each other’s air as they struggle to catch their breaths.

He’s an absolute vision. Roy could stare down at the beautiful form below him for one hundred years, and still not be able to fully drink in and appreciate every perfect detail of Edward Elric. His chest rises and falls with each labored breath, cheeks a bright red and forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat, bangs beginning to stick to it. His one thousand watt smile lights up Roy’s life, sparkling eyes more beautiful than any star. A halo of mussed hair frames his chiseled face, ponytail loose from the pillow fight with a multitude of flyaway strands sticking every which way. One strand is caught on Ed’s deliciously plump bottom lip, and Roy brushes it away before reaching behind Ed’s head to pull his hair tie out, letting the silken strands splay out onto the sheets.

“You,” He starts, bringing a hand up to cup Ed’s cheek, “are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on.”

Edward’s smile falls, replaced by a hungry expression as he stares up at Roy through hooded eyes. “Dork. Shut up and kiss me.” Roy couldn’t possibly say no to that.

He braces himself on his hands next to either side of Ed’s head, slotting their lips together easily and naturally. He watched Ed’s eyes flutter close before he lets his own eyes slip shut, letting his other senses take control of drinking in just how wonderful the man under him is.Their lips move together slow and sweet, the soft, wet noises between them lulling Roy into a state of absolute zen. He could stay this way forever if it were up to him, but kisses with Ed would never stay this gentle. It wasn’t long before he felt two strong, muscular arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer and a hungry, searching tongue probing his lips for an opening. Roy surrenders easily, lips parting so he can suck Ed’s tongue into his mouth.

And Ed always kisses like a dying man, hungry and passionate and dizzying in the best of ways, leaving Roy breathless. The slide of their tongues against one another sends a shiver through him, that shiver only intensifying when he feels one of Ed’s hands run up into his hair to grip it at the roots. He responds in kind with a none too gentle nip to Ed’s bottom lip, causing his breath to hitch and his grip on Roy to tighten.

Roy would let him hold on like that forever, if he wanted to.

Luckily for Roy, Ed was always quick to let him know exactly what it was he wanted. He accomplishes it this time by shoving his crotch bodily up against Roy’s, making his rapidly developing interest in the situation known. The boldness alone is enough to make Roy moan, nevermind the tempting hardness that just got jammed against his thigh. Ed could be shy to initiate, but once things got going, Ed certainly got going himself. And who was Roy to deny him?

With well coordinated deftness, he has Ed unbuttoned and unzipped, shoving his boxers aside until he’s got Ed in his hands. Roy was never one to find genitalia all that aesthetically pleasing, but he’d be hard pressed not to find anything about Ed a marvel to look at, and his cock was no exception. Hard and pink tipped, nestled atop a bed of golden curls, pulse thrumming strong and hot through the prominent vein visible underneath…

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Ed chokes out underneath him, eyes dazed and face alight as he bucks impatiently into Roy’s hand. “C’mon, Roy…” He whines so sweetly, and Roy was going to ask if he actually could take a picture, but well, he’s feeling rather distracted from that train of thought all of a sudden.

Long, slender fingers wrap more firmly around the beautiful, dripping cock beneath him, kisses migrating from Ed’s mouth to his neck, only so that he doesn’t block the litany of unrestrained sounds of desire that spill forth from Ed’s kiss bruised lips. The squirming beneath him does nothing to quell Roy’s need, and he can’t help but laugh at the frustrated moan that breaks free from Ed when he stops paying attention to him long enough for Roy to free himself from the constraints of his clothes.

He kisses his apology into the crook of Ed’s neck before taking both of them in his hand, pumping them together and rolling his hips against Ed as his own series of moans left his mouth, muffled against Ed’s sweaty, sweet smelling skin. He wasn’t able to appreciate the smell of a sexed up Edward for long, though, as two rough hands grabbed his face to pull him up into a hungry kiss.

The gasp that draws out of him gets swallowed hungrily by the ravenous mouth set upon him, the pace of his hand and hips quickening as a new desperation sweeps over him. That desperation turns into heat that pools deep within him, and if the frantic jerking of Ed’s cock in his hands is anything to go by, then Ed’s finding himself in a similar state. There’s no coordination anymore, no forethought, just bodies and tongues and lips and cocks rubbing and rolling against each other, slicked by mingling sweat and saliva and pre. The heat and pressure builds up to a point where it’s just almost too much to bear, nerve endings warring over whether to flood Roy’s brain with signals of pleasure or pain.

There’s a brief moment of absolute quiet and stillness below him before hot, sticky slick spills into his hand, a moan like shattering stained glass cracking through the air around them as Ed breaks from their kiss, finding his release. And that’s what Roy needed to finally tip over the edge himself, hips and hand stuttering as his cum mixes with Ed’s, moan muffled once he buries his face in the crook of Ed’s neck.

They stay that way for a while, clinging to one another as they struggle to catch their breaths, riding out the waves of oxytocin. Ed’s the first one to complain of stickiness, as usual, and after quickly discarding their clothes and briefly wiping themselves off, they’re finally snuggled back into bed again. They’re both quiet for the most part, a rarity between the two of them, as they soak up just how perfect an ending that was to a perfect day. Roy’s the first one to break the silence, living up to Ed’s constant insults about his ‘big fucking mouth.’

“Hey.” He takes Ed’s face between both hands, taking a moment to stare at his blissed out, post coitus expression before he breaks into a soft smile. “I love you.”

Flashes of doubt and uncertainty shine through Ed’s eyes, as they usually do when Roy makes such bold declarations. He’s able to settle into a state of acceptance after a moment, though, and Roy dreams of the day he can make that doubt disappear entirely. “Love you, too. Cheesy bastard.” Is Ed’s mumbled response, and how did such a dirty mouthed little brat come to make Roy’s chest swell so?

His amazement is cut short when Ed’s face wrinkles up with a yawn, which is just about the cutest thing Roy’s ever seen. “So,” Ed starts speaking on the tail end of his yawn, “we both have tomorrow off. What do you want to do?” Roy can’t help taking this opportunity.

“The way I see it,” he says with a deep voice, a pathetic, humorous attempt at imitating Venom’s alien growl, “WE can do whatever WE want.”

The sting of the smack he receives to his bicep is absolutely worth the bell like laughter that rings from Ed’s chest, filling the room as it fills Roy’s heart. Roy smiles wide and bright as he realizes there’s not a thing in this world that wouldn’t be worth getting to hear his angel laugh.

[doodliedoo]

Today’s Story: Adventures in Babysitting

I am the designated caretaker in just about every facet of my life. With my friends, I am the mom friend (there’s a few of us, but that’s of little importance). With my family, I am the advice giver (why my mother comes to me for parenting advice for my siblings, and why my older sisters and younger brother– who have dated more than I have– come to me for dating advice, I will never know). At all parties I attend (my mom’s wedding, football parties, and any get together involving parents and kids and usually alcohol), I am the babysitter: I watch the kids until they fall asleep, and then I go make sure their parents don’t eat someone’s pet (goldfish has happened, turtle was a near miss). Naturally, I take babysitting jobs for some cash as well, and I never really run out of referrals unless the parents at the party were too drunk to remember me sober (which is rare, but has happened). 

So there is one occasion where I go to a babysitting job, it is my stepdad’s friend from work, and I am watching his two kids and his brother’s two kids. The oldest is seven, a boy, and thinks he’s too cool for this. There are two five-year-old twins, a boy and a girl, both amicable and very good listeners. The youngest is a four-year-old girl who is shy but also bossy. There is also a humongous, mixed-breed dog. All are adorable. The parents order us pizza and leave it on the counter, tell me the kids have a bedtime of 8:00, 8:30 at the latest, that they would really appreciate if I could give them a bath and help them brush their teeth, and head out for the night.

At this point, the kids are all playing outside in the front yard on a playset, or with their little electric kid cars. All is good. Then the neighbors show up. In the span of around three minutes I have gone from babysitting four kids to babysitting ten, but no parents run out screaming so I assume they have permission to be there. I’m nowhere near out of my depth, but wrangling ten kids is a handful, so I round them up with a game of hide and seek and that tires them out pretty quick. At sunset, or 7:00, I tell the neighbor kids they should head home before it gets dark. I get grumbles, but I have earned their respect and so they grudgingly head home.

Inside, I go to start dishing out the pizza from the box on the counter and find the box on the floor. Empty. The dog sits across the kitchen with a guilty look on his face. I am not one to give up easily, so I begin to look through the pantry– and of course I’m in one of those “trying to be healthy but not really committed to it” houses, so there’s some poptarts, but nothing else ready-made. Not even bread for sandwiches. Who the frick-frack-paddywhack-crackerjack-godsmack-tic-tac doesn’t have sandwich bread!? Anyway, I find some tortillas and cheese and a weird butter-ish variation, so I’m like “Who wants quesadillas?” and all of them are like “ME!” So I feel a little better, at least they’re not heartbroken over the pizza-- actually, they all start asking for strawberries, so I cut some up in between quesadilla cook-time. They’ve been watching the Angry Birds Movie this whole time, and by the time dinner is ready it’s ¾ the way through and 7:40, so I let them eat and watch TV– I saw them snacking on the couch when I arrived, so I know the parents are okay with it. The quesadillas taste weird from the butter-ish variation, and go mostly uneaten, but they eat a lot of strawberries to compensate, and enough of the quesadillas to be full. There’s dinner. Not as planned, but dinner.

By the time the movie was over, it was around 8:00, and I’m sort of panicking because they should have been in bed already. I would have skipped the baths, except the kids were sort of filthy from playing outside, and they needed baths. So, I put the girls in one bath, and the boys in the other, and I start the water in both. I’m trying to get them to wash themselves, but there are two problems: one, they just want to play, and two, there is no soap in the whole damn house except for the little bit of body wash in the bathtub with the boys, and some expensive shampoo in the bathtub with the girls. So I use the little bit of shampoo for the girls and some of the body wash for all four of them. I’m also trying to find towels and their pajamas for them to change into afterward. All in all, I am frantically running between bathtubs with towels and clothes and soap containers, telling them things like “5 more minutes, and then you have to get out.” I probably looked like a loon. The girls get out first, getting quickly into their pajamas and heading to the kid’s room, which all four of them will be sleeping in. The boys get out second, slowly and with abundant giggles, they insist on letting the bathwater drain first and then having me leave the room for them to change. This whole process takes until 8:25. They still had to brush their teeth, which took around five minutes instead of two or three because the two cousins had no toothbrushes and I had to show them the trick where you use your finger, and then all the kids wanted to use their finger, but eventually it did get done. They were clean and ready for bed.

At bedtime, I read them a book I brought with me, The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss (it’s a favorite that I read to all the kids I babysit). They girls say they’re ready to lay down and sleep. The six-year-old boy is saying he has an erection that hurts very bad, and that he needs to wear a pull- up. I can see he doesn’t have an erection, because he is wearing tight-fitting pants, and I tell him that he doesn’t need a pull-up for that, and that they wouldn’t fit him anyway. The five-year-old boy, who is the only one amongst the four to wear pull-ups at night, says he peed, and needs to switch out his pull-up. I ask if he needs help, he says no, I say ok, and he goes to the bathroom, changes, and returns. By this time the girls have decided they both want to sleep on the bottom bunk of the girl’s bed, and the boys insist on following suit. At this point I am getting tired, so I’m like “You’re probably gonna be uncomfortable, but ok.” I say goodnight, and I leave. The six-year-old is still trying to tell me he needs a pull-up for his erection, he still doesn’t actually have one.

Around fifteen minutes later, I hear some commotion and head back to the kids’ room. All four are awake, the boys are giggling and the girls are telling them to shut up. I tell them, gently, that it’s bedtime and they need to go to sleep. The five-year-old boy needs to switch his pull-up again. He does, and I remind him that if he needs to pee, he can just go to the bathroom, that he should at least try not to pee in his pull-ups. The six-year-old tries to get me to let him wear pull-ups for his fictional erection again, and I remind him that he won’t fit in the pull-ups anyway.

This happens one more time before the kids finally go to bed, and by then it is just past 9:00. I have been keeping the parent’s in the loop via text (“the dog ate the pizza, I’m making quesadillas,” “Do any of the kids have food allergies,” “Where do you usually keep your bath soap/shampoo/conditioner,” “does the six-year-old usually wear pull-ups?” “kids are in bed”), but have yet to get a single response. When 9:30 rolls around– which is half an hour past when the parents said they would be home, and around an hour earlier than I expected them home, my parents text me, asking when they should pick me up. I tell them no parents are home yet, and that I’ll let them know when they are home or on the way. 

At around 10:15, the cousin’s parents come pick them up– the husband is drunk off his ass, but the wife is sober, so I let them drive off without mentioning it. The wife tips me for being late, and I thank her profusely, because you don’t get that a lot from the sober ones. At around 11:30, the parent’s get home, both hilariously drunk, accompanied by a few other adults I have never met. I text my parents, asking them to come pick me up and get no response. This one drunk pair have a conversation that is so incoherent I am laughing. They are so drunk I don’t think they noticed me. A girl hammered enough to trip on nothing tries to drive herself home, we call her an uber. Eventually only the parents are left, and the wife goes to bed. The husband tries to make awkward conversation with me in the living room. I text my parents again and get no response, I am beginning to think they fell asleep. 

The husband calls me to this weird little bar room they have to the left of the entryway and begins to talk to me passionately about how wonderful music is. I am confused and a little annoyed and I text my parents again. Then I call them; they had, in fact, fallen asleep, but now my stepdad was on the way to come get me. The husband is still trying to rile me up about music and how much you can learn about a person from music. He asks if I have a favorite song, I tell him the name of one that is very strange and obscure and usually puts people to sleep (literally, anything: dogs, cats, babies, drunk people, anyone). My stepdad texts that he is close, the husband is getting really amped on this music and he’s saying “Oh my god, this is so amazing, I have goosebumps, holy shit.” I’m beginning to suspect he is high in addition to drunk. 

My stepdad arrives at around midnight, and I am so ready to go home and sleep. When I get home, I make banana bread.