#I will look at a seatbelt in the car and weep as I think about Them

[scootkiddo]

what was more culturally significant. the renaissance. or seatbelt.

[myconniebaby]

Love You More

Warnings: None really! Kissing, mentions of sex, being intimate, a tiny bit of swearing and talking dirty

Summary: You and Conrad go for a drive, enjoying each others company when you come to the realization that you have to have him right now and can't wait any longer...

Sitting in the car waiting for my boyfriend, Conrad, to finish pumping gas and I can't help but stare at him through the window. It's dusk, starting to get windy and I can see a storm bubbling on the horizon. It's one of those summer pop-up storms that comes out of no where and will most likely disappear as quickly as it comes. He looks so handsome, his hair perfectly tossled and his cheeks a rosey shade of pink. Sometimes I can't believe he's actually my boyfriend. He catches me staring at him and gives me a smile that makes my heart skip a beat. I smile back and he mouths "love you" to me and gives me a quick wink. I can feel my cheeks heat up as I shyly look away from his gaze. I hear the pump cut off and look up just as he opens his car door to get back inside.

"Miss me," he asks me with a joking tone and a smile.

"Always," I breathe out and answer him as he buckles up and puts the car in drive. He immediately reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together, pulling our clasped hands to his lips for a loving kiss. My cheeks get a flushed pink tint over this tiny gesture and he notices right away and smiles again.

"Love you," he says to me quietly.

"Love you more," I say leaning towards him and snuggling up as close to him as I can get in the car.

We're still holding hands and just enjoying being in each others company and drive around aimlessly for about an hour. When he finally takes a turn down my street my stomach drops a little. I don't want to leave him. I don't want to be apart from him for a single second, let alone minute or hour. I'm craving him in more of a way than I've ever craved being with another person in my entire life. The thought of being alone without him makes me want to weep. I love him so much it actually hurts. Almost as much as the thought of being without him. Instantly I realize that this doesn't need to end here tonight, not if we don't want it to. I gather my thoughts a moment and then clear my throat.

"Con...," I say as he pulls into my driveway. I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn my body towards him, his hand still in mine. He kisses my hand once again before letting go so he can put the car in park and turn off the engine.

"Y/n...," he mimicks me and puts his hand under my chin. He looks into my eyes and holds my gaze. I can't believe I'm staring into the eyes of the most gorgeous man in all of cousins. My boyfriend. My Conrad. Looking into his beautiful eyes and watching him, watch me makes my heart beat so fast, I feel like I can't breathe. He runs his hand through his hair and his bangs fall and frame his face. The way they gently swoops inward, drawing attention to his soft and loving eyes, makes me instantly smile. He smiles back and gives his head a shake, knowing how sexy I think he looks after he tossles his hair. I catch him glancing towards my mouth and then back up to my eyes and he sensuously licks his lips. My eyes go directly to his mouth and stare at those luscious lips of his. Red, full, pouty and begging to be kissed.

"Con...," I say again in a breathy and needy voice. He leans in and rests his forehead gently against mine, out lips dangerously close but not touching. I can feel his breath against my skin and we are both starting to breathe a little heavier even though nothing is really happening between us yet.

"Hmmm...," he manages to answer me. His eyes are closed and I close mine too, trying to control my nervousness and get ready to take this next step. I'm ready. More than ready and I know he is too. We have been waiting for so long. Waiting for the timing to be just right and this is it. It won't be either of our first times but in a sense it kind of will be. For me at least. I've never felt like this about anyone before. I've never been so in love, so over the top, head over heels, crazy for someone and I think it's going to make sex feel like a completely new and exciting experience with him. My boyfriend. My Conrad. I can't help but let a huge grin spread across my face at the thought. He must have been able to feel my smile because he pulls away gives me a slightly confused grin.

"Ok y/n, what's up? What are you thinking about that's got you smiling like that," he asks me.

"You," I state, knowingly.

"Me?," he says, dragging out the "e". "What about me...," he asks leaning in for a kiss.

His lips feel like heaven against mine. They're so smooth and so soft. They envelope my own and I can feel him sucking on my bottom lip, silently begging for me to open them. I revel in the way his lips feel against mine for another minute or so before I grant him access. As soon as I part my lips his tongue slowly melds with mine. He kisses me so passionately I feel like I could cum any moment with just his kiss. I can feel his love throughout my entire body and it's set me on fire. He is breathing life into me with every motion and every touch. I let out a throaty moan and I can feel him smirk into me. He pulls away and rests his head against mine again.

"What are you thinking about now," he asks me, brushing the hair off my cheek and pushing it behind my ear. His hand is cupping my face and his forehead is still pressed against mine and I let out a deep and happy sigh. I pull away and look right back into those beautiful eyes and smile.

"I want you," I say to him with every ounce of courage I can muster.

"I want you too, baby," Conrad says to me, putting his lips on my neck. I can feel him start to suck lightly and I almost get lost in it but force myself to focus.

"Come inside with me Con," I say. "Spend the night with me. Please."

The look on his face tells me he's trying not to get too excited yet as he asks me what I mean.

"Like SPEND the night, spend the night or just hang out? Either one is fine with me y/n, you know that. I'm just not sure what you're asking. No pressure."

I smiled sweetly at him and batted my eyes a few times. "Oh, sorry! Let me be more clear." I quickly got onto my knees and climbed onto his lap so I could straddle him. He pushed the seat back and I plopped high to to his lap, clinging to his body. I ran my hands through his hair and draped my arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him with everything I had in me. His body beneath me started to twitch a little and I could start to feel him getting hard. I lightly grinded over his cock, teasing him until I could start to feel him grinding up in his seat too. I stopped kissing him and let out bodies mash against each other a minute loving the feeling of us almost together. He let out a low and haggard moan and the sound made me instantly wet.

"Fuck me, Con," I whisper. "Take me inside, rip my clothes off and make me scream your name."

He lets out an elated "fuuuuckkkkk" and looks me up and down. "You sure?," he asks me, seriously.

"I've never been more sure of anything," I answer him, matching his serious tone. I start to climb back over to the passenger seat and he helps me swing back over to my side of the car. I start to pick up my purse off the floor and my phone and next think I know, he's out the door and sprinting over to my side. He takes all my stuff in one hand and reaches for me with the other, helping me out if the car.

"Love you," I say to him as he leads me to my door.

"Love you more," he says squeezing my hand, leading us through the door way.

🩵 Thank you so much for reading 🩵

[kirnet]

tagged for wip wednesday by @nsewell and also @mrs-theirin last week!! tagging whoever wants to and sees this bc its late :3

wrapping up actium chap 3 and also im working on a grave and weep rewrite!

”Who was that guy?” you whispered to him when you pulled yourself into the cab, worried that he could somehow hear you over the distance. “You can’t think working with him is actually a good idea.”

Henry huffed out a breath that meant he agreed with you, but he was going to argue anyway. “You’re not getting paid to ask questions, kid.”

You slapped his hand away before it could turn on the radio. The last thing your thin thread of sanity needed was a twangy guitar solo at ear-bursting volume. “You’re the one always telling me to go in with as much intel as possible.”

”Don’t throw my own advice back at me.” His hair was near matted when he pulled off his baseball cap, his fingers unable to work through the tangle. “You want to pay your mama’s debts? Then you need to get comfortable taking jobs you don’t want to. This is the life you chose.”

”I’m-“ Scared. You were scared. Whoever - whatever - Henry’s contact was, a beast with manic eyes and yellowed teeth, you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him. With sinking disappointment you realized that you yearned for comfort, that you wanted him to reach out and tell you that hey, it was going to be okay. He wouldn’t put your life in danger needlessly. A good mentor would never aim for his student’s injury. And maybe he realized it, too, the way his lip curled in disgust, like he finally just saw you for what you were: a trembling teenager fumbling with your seatbelt, not some bastion of untapped power. “I’m just letting you know that I’m getting my ‘I told you so’ ready, alright?”

It was a good moment to finish the argument as you usually did, with you conceding and Henry never acknowledging the tense silence. Instead, after a long moment of consideration where he almost shifted the truck into drive, he turned to you. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted, eyes dark. “You don’t either. Good. It means I finally beat some intuition into you.” He scratched his neck, the sound of his scruff making you cringe. “I’m not bringing you on as surveillance for the team, I’m bringing you on for me. To watch my back.”

If Henry thought that moment of vulnerability was going to put your fears to rest, he was wrong. It had a distinctly opposite effect. “You think he’s gonna try to kill you?” you snapped, lurching forward when he finally started the car forward.

The truck tumbled over curbs and potholes, finally connecting to an actual side street. He shrugged. “Always a possibility. Nature of the job.” With a casualness you loathed, Henry reached a hand out and smacked a palm against your forehead, never looking away from the road. “But I got you, yeah? You’re my ace. You just worry about making sure your frozen mice are appropriately thawed and I’ll take care of the rest.”

[tinyboxxtink]

"...So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 7*

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Yeah I know, that last chapter was....brutal.

And I have some bad news my babies....I work non-stop the next three days, so maybe no new chapter until Monday.

But I gave you this one with a little floof, to make up for that horrible angsty chapter. But also, it's kind of short.

Worse news....it ends on a cliffhanger.

I LOVE YOU ALL DON'T LEAVE ME PLEASE.

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu

@believinghurts

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

Back At Your House

You woke up in your bed, covered in towels and one of Kylie’s pull ups taped under your underwear, along with a million other different cloths/toilet paper.

“What the fuck…?” You tried to move but realized the towels you were surrounded with were mostly covered in blood. You quickly began to panic as the more you woke up the more the pain was coming back. You tried to think of the last thing you remembered before blacking out. Billy had been pumping in and out of your ass, you were in torturous pain, and then he called-- Oh god.

You began scrambling around the bed with your arms under the sheets and comforter, looking for your phone. You could hear the shower running and Billy humming from the bathroom. He was getting off on this, the sick fuck. You couldn’t believe you had been so blind to his psychosis before this. Love is blind sure, but what the fuck?!

Finally you found your phone on the charger, but it was on your vanity across the room. You dragged yourself across the bed and leaned over the bed as far as you could, reaching for the vanity desperately.

You fell helplessly off the foot of the bed, whimpering and crying from the pain in your rectum. You were pretty sure you were still bleeding, but Billy had shoved so much toilet paper and towels up there you probably couldn’t even shit right now. Maybe for a long time.

You weakly pulled on the cord so it made the phone fall off the vanity and land in your hands. You saw you had 30 missed calls, all from Rafael. Oh thank god, he still cared about you. Worried about you.

You hit REDIAL and waited for him to answer. You looked up to the sky and started praying for him to answer before Billy got out of the shower. Finally after what felt like hours, you heard his voice. It was frantic and terrifying, he sounded like he had been crying for a long while.

“What now, Lewis? I swear to God if you FUCKING--”

“R-Rafa?” Your small, weak voice in response made him almost drop the phone in relief.

“Y/N?” He almost choked.

“Mi amor? Are you okay? Where are you? Where’s Lewis?” He rattled off the millions of questions that had ran through his mind since Billy had hung up on him. Hearing him call you amor made your whole world brighten, you wanted to weep in happiness.

“I’m--” You looked down at yourself. You were literally wearing a diaper.

“I’m outside,” He responded before you could say anything else.

“What?” You breathed deeply, pulling yourself up and limping towards your bedroom window. You could see Rafael’s car a few houses down, with the lights off.

“What are you doing?!” You hissed into the phone, glancing fearfully at the bathroom door. “You can’t be here!”

“You can’t stay here baby, you need medical help,” He said into the phone, staring at your silhouette through your window now.

“I-I can’t leave the girls,” You twirled your hair nervously.

“Baby if you’re dead you can’t help them at all!” Rafael reasoned.

Well, he did have a point. You checked the phone for the time: 11:30 pm. You had been out for hours. The girls were probably asleep, you didn’t know how much longer Billy would be in the shower.

“Look he won’t hurt them, right? You said that?” Rafael asked, knocking you back to reality.

“Raff after tonight I don’t know what he’s capable of,” You tried not to start crying again. You knew how upset he already was, if he heard you cry you knew it would send him off the edge again.

“God dammit!” You could hear him pull the phone away and violently hit the passenger's seat several times as the image of your bloody body being rammed by Lewis reverberated in his brain images.

“Rafael, calm down. Please,” You pleaded with him. “I-I don’t even know if I can make it outside,”

“Fuck,” You heard him mutter. “Then I’m coming in,”

“Rafael, don’t. Please--” But it was too late, he had already hung up. You closed your eyes and waited for the boom. You listened intently as the shower continued to run, then you heard your door open, footsteps come running down the hall.

Finally you saw him, Rafael. He scooped you up before you could say anything, grabbed some of your clean clothes out of your drawers and before you knew it you were sitting in the passenger's seat of his car, and he was speeding away from your house.

“Carino…” You felt his hand on the back of your head, rubbing your hair lovingly. “God I’m so so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault,” You shook your head weakly, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation of his skin on yours again. Even if it was just your hair.

You could smell his cologne wafting from his wrist and you placed a hand on his knee, turning your head to face him. He glanced over at you, giving you a sad smile. He put his free hand on your hand that was on his knee, then when he thought you were far enough away he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Wha---?” You looked around confused as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He unbuckled yours and then pulled you from your seat, over the gear stick into his lap.

“Rafa, what are you doing?” You cocked your head to the side like a confused puppy dog as he stroked your hair. Instead of answering your question, he pulled you into a deep, slow kiss. The complete opposite of what you had been through tonight.

“I just...I’ve wanted to do this since you left my office. Since I saw you with that gun pushed into your back. Since I saw you…” He started to cry so he looked down in shame.

You put one hand on his cheek and wiped the tears with your thumb. He put his hand over the hand on his cheek and kissed in between your thumb and first finger. You pressed your forehead against his while he tried to compose himself, then you just laid your head on his shoulder. He started to stroke your hair once more and just held you like that, basking in each other’s safeness and warmth.

“I love you,” He whispered while still holding onto you, tears still apparent in his voice. “I love you so much Y/N, I’m sorry. I will never let you out of my sight ever again,”

“I’m sorry,” You whispered into his shoulder. “I should’ve listened to you,”

“Hey,” He picked your head up and made you face him. “No, you do not apologize for ANYTHING, okay? This isn’t your fault,”

“Isn’t it?” You bit your lip while trying not to cry yourself. “I married the man, Rafael! I had kids with him, I--I would have stayed married to him if he hadn’t left!”

“But you didn’t know....” He comforted you.

“No but I should have,” You shook your head in shame at yourself.

“How could you have known that he--”

“Because my dad was like him, Rafael,” You finally admitted. You hadn’t told anyone that, not even Billy.

“....What?” You looked at him in shock, trying to make sure you heard him correctly.

“My dad, he--” You looked down at your lap in shame. “He used to beat the shit out of me and my mom,”

“....Me too,” Rafael finally admitted his own shame after a long pause.

“What?” You blinked several times. “Seriously?”

“Mmmhmm,” He nodded sadly. “Well you know when he was sober enough to hit. Sometimes he just wouldn’t come home at all. For hours, days. Finally never,”

“Oh, Raffi….” You gave a sympathetic look. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad drank himself to death,”

“How would that make me feel better?” Rafael raised an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t know, I was trying to say something comforting. I suck at it. I shouldn’t be a mother,” You shook your head.

“Hey now,” He put a hand to your cheek again. “You seem like a great mother,”

“Oh yeah, mom of the year,” You rolled your eyes. “I just left my kids with their psychopath father,”

“Hey, I kidnapped you,” He teased.

“Yeah you did--” You stopped smiling when the thought hit you like a train. “Oh fuck,”

“What?” Rafael furrowed his eyebrows.

“If I know Billy, once he realizes I’m gone and who I’m with, he’s going to claim you kidnapped me or something,” Your own eyebrows furrowed as you started going over worst case scenarios.

“But that’s absurd,” He shook his head. “Clearly I didn’t…”

“I mean you kind of did,” You shrugged.

“But you wanted to come!” He defended.

“You think he’s gonna word it that way?” You gave him a look.

“Well if they come after us then I’ll just clarify that--” Rafael kept reasoning with you.

“Then he’ll say that I just abandoned them,” You made another excuse.

“You left them with their dad--” Rafael was determined to make you see logic.

“He’s going to come after us Rafael!!”

“Okay, baby-- you’re spiraling,” He took both of your hands. “Inhalar, exhalar,” [pronounced

In-hall-ay, ex-hall-ay]

You took several inhales and exhales, long and deep.

“I just--” You breathed again. “I know this is going to end badly,”

“Not as badly as it could have,” Rafael pointed out. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do we need to go to the hospital or something?”

“...I...I don’t know,” You sheepishly admitted. “I haven’t had the courage to check,”

“What?!” Rafael cried, picking you up and standing up out of the car and opening the back door, laying you across the backseat.

“Baby these are fine leather seats! You’ll never get the blood out if you--” You tried to object but Rafael was already peeling off your “diaper”. He became more and more angry at the haphazard way Lewis had just patched you up so that he could shower. When he unraveled the mountains of toilet paper wrapped around your waist, he could see you were “Stopped up” by a bunch of cotton balls and tampons. And you were very clearly still bleeding. The sight made him sick.

“Fuck…” He whispered as he threw the “bandages” back on you, then went to get something from his trunk. He came back with an old t-shirt and wrapped it around your waist and butt area tightly.

“We have to stop this bleeding baby,” he began to panic again. “I-I don’t even know how you’re conscious right now, you must have lost a lot of--” He stopped talking when he realized you were in fact, unconscious now. All of those shitty bandages as shitty as they were, had been keeping your blood and and now it was freely pouring out of you and out of the car.

“Fuck…” He muttered as he slammed the door and got in the driver’s seat, starting his car again and speeding towards the hospital. Well, it would sure be a hell of a lot harder to explain he DIDN’T kidnap you now, if you weren’t awake to verify it.

He sped as fast as he could to the hospital, dialing Liv’s number as he drove. “Liv, get the squad to the hospital,” He instructed her.

“And we need a police detail at this address, but you have got to be discreet, I don’t want him going off the rails,”

As soon as they got to the hospital, Rafael jumped out and started yelling to EMT’s and nurses standing outside the emergency room to help him with you. They grabbed a gurney and helped Rafael put you on it, rolling you inside as you were immediately hooked up to things and had a team swarming you.

“How much blood has she lost?” A nurse asked him as she pushed him back away from you so the doctors could work.

“I...I don’t know,” He answered warily as he tried looking over her to see how you were.

“What blood type is she?” She moved him to face her.

“I don’t know…” He rubbed his hand across the back of his head, but it was covered in your blood. It made him panic more.

“Do you know anything, sir?” The nursed asked in an annoyed tone.

“Yes,” He was now glaring angrily. “I know she was brutally raped, and I’m pretty sure he tore her,”

“....He?” She eyed him up and down, seeing him covered in your blood.

“Oh come on,” Rafael exhaled with a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t think if I did this to her I would bring her in myself?”

“I don’t know you sir, I don’t know what you would or would not do--”

“No I did NOT do this to her--” He started to tell her she was nuts, when he heard the last voice in the world he wanted to hear.

“THERE HE IS!!!!” He turned to see Lewis walking in with Jersey PD, pointing directly at him.

“THAT’S THE MAN WHO RAPED AND KIDNAPPED MY WIFE!!!!!!!!”

….Well, fuck.

[upslapmeal]

The Dæmons

The Doctor this whole serial: no I don’t believe in magic, yes I am dressed like a magician and do magic tricks, we exist (and also it’s called science)

Three just having a chat with Bessie

“viewers of BBC 3” once again relevant

“...since Sutton Hoo” “would you like to explain that reference professor?” “no”

The Master didn’t waste any time showing up this time

“I am no sort of chap sir” see this kind of quote and ~general vibe~ is why Thirteen referring to her past selves as blokes just doesn’t sit right with me! looking like blokes? sure. being blokes? eh...

but I feel as though I’ve gone on about that enough

“with the costume and the wig” lmao RIP Three

...did I speak too soon? RIP frozen Doctor?

ah Three returning to his roots by lying motionless in a bed

I’m curious to see how/if they end up portraying this giant beast

oh they’re using a perspective trick!

wait no it’s just a lil guy

the og weeping angels: tongue out gargoyles

“I don’t get it” “probably because I hadn’t finished captain Yates”

does Bessie not have seatbelts??

Sergeant Osgood!! he must be related to Other Osgood right?

I hate that whenever I hear that fact about the impossibility of bees flying all I can think of is Bee Movie

reverse the polarity!

aha so we have our second Atlantis explanation / reference

we interrupt your regularly scheduled alien attack with Morris dancing 

and an attack on the doctor

never had a fight scene been quite so jingly

Thirteen must have been having flashbacks to this when she was accused of being a witch

also slightly concerned about how the rest of the village is so chill with a public burning at the stake

chekov’s car remote control

five rounds rapid!

Jo having the Lily Potter sacrifice effect

except instead of the day being saved by The Power Of Love it was saved by The Power Of Dumb Decisions

ahaha so that’s where the gif of the Master escaping by chucking his cape over Benton’s head and running away comes from

“I want to deal with him later”

it’s the end of the Master Season so I wonder when we’ll next see him around again

how long until he escapes from UNIT?

petition for every season/series of DW to end with a celebratory dance

A fun rural countryside vibe to this one with your classic Eccentric Village Characters, a bit sci-fi Vicar of Dibley. That said I did find myself zoning out during the long Azal scenes so I’d be lying if I said I was 100% sure what the dæmons’ whole deal was - something to do with Earth being an experiment?

[silhouetteofacedar]

When We Drive, Ch. 10: Resurrection, Gestation, and Frozen Casseroles

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated M

Alexandria, Virginia

April 7, 2001

He’s alive.

Scully can’t decide what feels more unreal; the past six months without him, or the fact that he’s back from the dead, buckled into the passenger seat of her car.

Her belly is cumbersome in its fullness and thrumming with life, and her lower back aches; but she hardly cares. Because Mulder, her Mulder, is breathing and healing and living right next to her.

She looks at him frequently, at safe intervals as she drives. Her eyes graze over the healing scars on his cheeks, the bags under his eyes, his messy crop of hair, and he’s so beautiful she fears she might cry. Again.

Mulder is subdued, eyes tracing the scenes outside his window. “It’s spring,” he murmurs, observing the trees in a park they drive past, lush green branches filled with blossoms. “I missed your birthday.”

Scully swallows a sob before the sound can reach her throat. “Don’t worry about that,” she says gently, laying a tentative hand over his. His skin is warm, just as it should be, and she wants to kiss each finger. “Let’s just get you home.”

“Where is home for me now?” Mulder asks softly, almost to himself.

“I… I kept your apartment,” Scully confesses.

He turns to look at her then, and she feels suddenly exposed. He’s held her naked in his arms, joined his body with hers, and yet the small admission makes her want to hide her face from him instinctively. Instead she keeps her eyes fixed on the road.

“You told me to never give up on a miracle,” she explains simply, the words strung tightly around a bundle of unspoken things.

I slept in your bed, wrapped in one of your shirts. I would wake up in the middle of the night and feel the baby kicking. Our baby, Mulder. Yours and mine. I would hold my belly alone in the dark, knowing you were cold in the ground miles away from us.

She has so much to say to him. She wants to cry, to scream, to shout how much pain she was in and weep with joy that he’s back. She wants to fall on her knees and swear oaths to him, beg him to be only hers. Plead with him to never leave her again.

Instead, she asks him if he’s hungry.

He isn’t. “Haven’t had much appetite lately,” Mulder explains. “‘M’not the biggest fan of worms.”

She hates him for making jokes about being dead, and it feels like love.

“I’ll bring some groceries over for you, once we get you settled,” she says. “You’ll need to have regular solid meals, rebuild your strength, even if you don’t feel like eating anything.”

“Haven’t you heard, Dr. Scully? I’m in perfect health,” he replies, voice tired.

Just let me fuss over you a little, she implores internally. Let me see and feel that you’re alive, it’s all I want. You are all I want.

“Let’s maintain that perfect health, then,” she says. “My mom is already planning to fill your freezer with casseroles.”

“How is she?” Mulder asks awkwardly. It almost sounds like he’s trying to be polite.

Well, I’m having a baby out of wedlock and haven’t told her much about it, but she suspects it’s yours. She’s glad you’re alive, by the way. Because you were dead.

“She’s fine,” Scully replies. “Excited about another grandchild on the way, circumstances aside.” She glances at Mulder and sees him turn his head away quickly, discomfort coming off of him in waves.

The silence between them is devoid of any of their previous warmth or comfort. It feels like every time she gets anywhere near the subject of her pregnancy, the air around him bites like ice.

Does he not realize it’s…?

“Ah, a familiar landmark,” Mulder says suddenly, fingertip pressed against the car window as they pass a newsstand a few blocks from his apartment building. “Do you think they have six months’ worth of back issues of UFO Magazine laying around?”

I love you. I’m sorry; I should have told you years ago. “I’m sure they do, since I imagine you were the only buyer,” she says lightly. Levity is a foreign sensation after all these months, like squeezing your toes into your school shoes after a long barefoot summer, and she decides she’s not quite ready for banter yet. “Do you want me to bring you anything else? Something to read?”

“Honestly Scully, I kind of just want to take a nap,” he says. “The old adage ‘you can sleep when you’re dead’ is false.”

Scully presses her lips together, nods. “Well, here we are,” she says, pulling up in front of his building.

Mulder inhales deeply and slowly exhales, gazing out the window at 2630 Hegal Place.

“I’ll carry your bag,” Scully says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

I’m carrying your child.

[just-some-random-blogger]

One Million In One Day | 9

GOT7 SugarDaddy!Jackson Wang x Reader + Park Jinyoung x Reader | Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Characters: GOT7 Summary: His mother’s final wish is to see him be happy in a relationship, knowing that Jackson would be fine when she left him. But, damn, he didn’t have time for relationships, especially not since he was busy running his father’s billion dollar empire, thus the compromise: you. Word Count: <2k Warnings: Stalking, fighting, cursing, mentioning of illness, TYPOS, etc.

A/N: HI IT”S BEEN SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS HKASHFKAFA

I’m tagging @tia-m94 because, well, she wanted to be HAHA, and I was looking for all the other messages I got about updating this but I can’t seem to find them, so yeah, if you wanna be tagged in the last chapter just ell me cos I’m actually planning on posting that soon as well.

It’s been two weeks since Jinyoung stopped talking to us, and I’ve had enough of it. He’s neither replied to my or Mark’s texts while clearly holding his phone in class, so obviously he wants us to know that he’s ignoring us.

Once Mr. Choi says class dismissed, I grabbed my things and jogged over to the other side of the room for him. He was still fixing up his things when I arrived and the blank expression he had somehow fell.

I move over to him once his row is cleared and call out to him, “Jinyoung.”

Much unlike him, he takes all his things and shoves it into his bag, out of spite. But it was too unlike his nature. He sighs and begins to fix it inside, not paying attention to me.

“I’m sorry that I upset you.”

Jinyoung glares at me, “you’re sorry? For what?”

I bite my lower lip and huff, “Jinyoung... please don’t be like this.”

Jinyoung scoffs, “you still don’t get it, do you.”

“Could you please just tell me? I don’t like becoming your enemy.”

“Do you? From what I can tell you don’t care at all for me.”

I pull back from his tight remark and frown, “how could you say that...”

Jinyong's eyes are on fire as he watches my expression in disgust, “You can’t play with me, just because we’re friends.”

“I’m not playing with you," I manage weakly.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes and finally fixes all his things and storms past me. I let him have a head start and run after him right after.

The moment I caught up with him, I grab onto his arm and blurt, “there’s only one thing I can think of... but I have no idea how you’d know.”

Jinyoung finally stops and turns to me.

I feel my feel tears well up in my eyes and I pull him to the side. Jinyoung looks down at me as I fiddle my fingers. I scratch my eyes and turn to him, finding he dawned a different expression on his face.

“Do you know about..." I suck in a breath and whisper, "my sugar daddy?"

Jinyoung clenches his jaw for a moment, then lets out a breath, “... yes. I saw him take you out in his sports car when I was supposed to come over. I was already outside your door when I called.”

I bite my lower lip.

Jinyoung clenched jaw, "you lied to me that day. You said you were going to sleep in all day. You even had the audacity to say you had fun with me the day before."

I turn to him, hot tears streaming down my face. I desperately reason out, "but I did Jinyoung. I love hanging out with you no matter where or when."

Jinyoung turns away from me and I begin to feel like the world was staring at me at this point. I turn to my feet in shame and embarrassment.

"Then why did you lie?" Jinyoung starts again, not caring if the world could hear, "between your teeth, in front of my face? And you told Mark though, so it infuriates me even more."

I suck in a breath for courage and grab his hand, "can we talk at my apartment, please. Give me a chance to explain."

I dread that he will rip him hand away from me and spit at my face. But instead, he grips my wrist and sighs, leading me off.

When we get there, Jinyoung's keen eye notices all the differences in the place. He doesn't miss to note on it bitterly, "wah, you bought an oven too. How cute."

I frown and turn to him, "ya... I did it for you okay."

Jinyoung looks at me, bewildered, caught off guard.

I whine and wipe my face. I drop my bag to the floor and push the thought of missing class today away, "I bought an oven so we could make cheesecake, because I just like you so damn much. And I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean for you to see Jackson. And I had to tell Mark because I had to spend all the money he gave me or else I would lose it."

Jinyoung shakes his head and hands, "wait don't tell me the story like this. Tell me from the beginning, from the very start till now."

And so I do.

By the end of it, Jinyoung and I are sitting on the couch with an awkwardly small gap between us. I don't know what was going through his mind now, but what I did know was that he wasn't happy.

"So what, you're going to keep doing this? What if he asks you to marry you for the sake of his mom?"

I furrow my brows, "Jinyoung, he wouldn't do that. And besides, I think he won't ask me to come over anymore."

"But if he does, will you go?"

"... I can't just leave him."

Jinyoung turns sour, "you most definitely can. You have nothing in writing."

"But he's like a friend now..."

He scoffs, "so you like this Jackson guy?"

I bitterly reply without turning to him, "it's like you want me to make a neon sign that I like you, Jinyoung."

When he doesn't give a sassy retort, I feel my insides grind in fear. I manage to turn to him and my stomach drops when I see he's staring at me, "do you mean it?"

I frown.

"Or are you just saying things I want to hear to get a pass?"

I feel my eyes glass, "what?"

Jinyoung scoffs out a chuckle, "are you an idiot, or are you an idiot?"

"... ... Jinyoung ..."

He sighs, "you still don't get it, do you?" Jinyoung diminishes the gap between us and casually wipes the tears on my cheek away, "I like you so much, you big idiot."

I just look at him, dumbfounded, not really knowing what to say, up until a thought popped up in my head, "is that why you were so upset?"

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, "what do you think?"

It may have been misplaced and untimely, but my stomach swirls in butterflies and I begin to feel giddy.

"You have to stop seeing him though."

I feel pulled back by his sudden statement.

"I don't want you going around with some guy that has so much leverage over you. Especially not because you wanted to by me an over for stupid cheesecake, the hell?"

I open my mouth to protest, but Jinyoung cuts me off, “you’ve done enough, pabo. Now, for my sake,” he grabs my hand, “don’t see any other guy, but me.”

My heart races. My breath hitches.”

Jinyoung clears his throat, “so, can I be your boyfriend?”

I can’t help but bite my lip and snort at him for asking like that. I, instead on answering, do what I have thought of doing whenever he pouts, or whenever he smiles, or whenever he’s stressed, or whenever he’s teasing me. I move forward and peck his lips, placing a chaste kiss and smiling back at him.

Jinyoung doesn’t seem to be surprised by this, and only pushes me back to plant a deeper kiss on my lips. We reposition, so that my torso is facing him and so is his facing mine. I wind up leaning on the arm rest of the sofa and Jinyoung’s hands are latching themselves on my body. He stops midway and inhales, “I want you to answer me though, just so it’s clear we’re on the same page.”

I pretend to think about it, “... I dunno, commitment seems a little too much. Why not just be kissing buddies?”

Jinyoung raises his upper lip and makes an annoyed sound. He then tickles me where he had his hands and I jolt and wither at the assault.

“Okay! Okay!” I scream, making him cease and narrow his eyes at me, “you can be my boyfriend, Park Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung scoffs, “ya, you think you’re so cool? It’s an honor for you to be my girlfriend.”

I forfeit another reply and only pull him close. Jinyoung reciprocates immediately.

My mind is already hazy when he pulls away again, “I want to hear you say it--”

“Shut up, Jinyoung.”

It’s kinda funny how Jinyoung and I go about now. I remember telling Mark about it during class and how much he freaked out because of it.

It was kinda funny.

Much like I has anticipated, an entire month had passed and I didn't even really think about Jackson. That was up until I got a call one night from no other than my sugar daddy himself.

“Hello?” I answer immediately

“Hey--” his voice is thick and low, “I know this is short notice, but can I meet you right now?”

I pull my phone away to check the time. I see it’s about 9:30pm. I pull my phone back, “I dunno, Jackson. I’m kinda scared to go out at this time.”

“What if I pick you up?”

I think of Jinyoung for a moment, then I reply to Jackson, “okay.”

By the time Jackson arrives, I had texted Jinyoung that I would go out with Jackson for one last time. He was hesitant, but he said that he trusted me more than anything.

I went into Jackson’s car and he immediately just drives once I get in. I barely even have time to put my seatbelt on. I look at him and see his face is dishevelled.

I decide not to speak up until he parks in a 24/7 supermarket’s parking lot.

“My mom passed,” Jackson says, immediately breaking down.

For a moment I am stunned, and I have absolutely no idea what to do. Jackson is gripping the steering wheel as he crumbles and weeps. I then have the decency to reach out to him and rub his back. I want to speak, to say something, but I just feel like I shouldn’t.

It’s Jackson that bursts out again, “the day you met her, she said she was really tired from being so happy. I stayed with her that night, watching her drama. I slept on the couch. When I woke up, she... she was stiff and... and-”

I cover my face with my hands, “Jackson...”

“It’s like she was just waiting for that moment and-- I- I feel like if you hadn’t met her then, she’d... she’d still be waiting... and it conflicts me so much.”

I begin to feel tears fall from my eyes as well.

“You know, at the very least she’s not suffering anymore, and you made her happy,” Jackson shudders, turning to me with bloodshot eyes. He frowns, lips quivering, “oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ve just made everything so depressing.”

“No,” I take his hand, “what you feel right now is normal. You’ve just had a great loss. I’m glad that I got to meet her and made her happy, Jackson.”

He chuckles, “don’t you resent me for doing something like this.”

I shake my head, “no. In fact, let’s stop this agreement between us okay. If you ever need me, just call me as a friend, okay.”

Jackson pulls his hand away to slap it on his face, “oh lord, as if I deserve that.”

“Jackson-”

“No... I shouldn’t take advantage of you.”

“You’re not!” I say, “I want you to be my friend. You can hang out with me, Jinyoung, Mark, and Nari. I think it would be good for you, especially now. I can take you to cheap restaurants and let you borrow two dollar shirts. You’ll finally taste boxed wine.”

He begrudgingly chuckles at that. I give a smile.

For a moment, he just heaves. Jackson settles and turns to me, offering a sad smile, “thank you... for everything.”

“Thank you too.”

[eerythingisshaka]

Ficsmas Day #6 “Away in a Spooky Manger”

[Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader]

Word Count: 1.3k

Spooky holds you up as you holler in pain making your way to his car.

“I can’t fucking believe this.  I can’t fucking believe this shit!  Did you get the bag?”  you repeat over and over as the snow crunches under your half tied boots with each step.  Your pajama pants are as good as tissue paper at insulating your legs from the cold but the rush is on to get you to the hospital.

“It’s ok baby, we don’t need it.  The hospital has all we need.  Come on, easy,”  Spooky tries to keep you at ease as he helps lift you in the backseat of his car.

“He was supposed to be here on New Years,  I’m so pissed.”  Your anger quickly crumbles to tears as the gravity of the situation overwhelms you.  You and Spooky just finished making some cookies  and picked out your favorite Christmas movie to watch and stay up until midnight to welcome in Christmas together.

Spooky reaches for a seatbelt to put on you.  “I know, it’s fine though.  We’re gonna have our little one as a present, so that’s gonna be good!”

You smack away his hands.  “I don’t need a damn belt.  I need a tranquilizer, just fucking drive!”

Spooky closes your door and gets in the driver’s seat, peeling out as fast as he can down the road.  As he drives, you continue to curse and moan under the pressure of your body attempting to expel the baby boy you spent the last 39 weeks growing in your belly.  Pain radiates from your back to your pelvis as you sweat and squeeze the back of the seat behind Spooky’s head.

“How’re you doing?”  he asks while looking back in the rearview.

“How do you think, Oscaaaar??”  A contraction seizes you as you bellow in agony, beating his seat as he approaches a red light.

“What the fuck are you doing?”  You ask, unzipping your jacket as your body heat fights with the heat circulating in the car.

Spooky points, “It’s a red light, I can’t get another ticket.”

“If you don’t get this car moving Oscar!  What the hell is wrong with you, fuck a red light or a ticket!”

Spooky looks both ways before neglecting the laws of traffic, looking fully back at you with concern.  “You gotta calm down.  I’ll get us there, just breathe, remember?”

You give a laugh that is mired by your sounds of torture.  “How about next time I just breathe on your dick instead of letting you all up in here to plant your big headed baby, how about that huh?”

Spooky grips the steering wheel tightly as he rips around a corner, sliding on the slushy streets, and sending you flying from one end of his backseat to another.

“DAMN!  What was that for?!”  you exclaim, sitting up.

Spooky looks back again.  “Shit, you alright?  Am I going too fast?  I’m still getting used to riding in your area.  Don’t know shit about snow.”

You breathe through your nose and out of your mouth.  “I think you have to pull over.”

Spooky takes another turn, gentler this time.  “We’re almost there, like 15 minutes.”

You shake your head.  “No, no.  I’m not gonna make it.”

The engine revs a little louder as he accelerates.  “Fuck, just breathe baby.  Think of anything but the baby right now.  We’re so close to the hospital.”

Spooky looks in his rearview and sees you squirming around, grunting as you fiddle with something.

“What’s going on back there?”  Spooky asks right before a pair of grey flannel pajama bottoms of his that you like go flying in the front passenger seat.

“I can’t make it Oscarrr!”  you scream, laying flat across the back seat with your legs wide.

Spooky immediately pulls over to park, turning his whole body to see you fully ready to give birth.  His eyes are horrified as he rubs his head, trying to think.

“Ok! Ok!  Lemme call 911!”  he reaches into his pants to pull out his phone, hitting the emergency button.

“Please please come back here with me!  I need your help, I don’t wanna do this alone!”  Tears well up in your eyes as you feel like you’re being ripped in half as your baby makes his way out of your cervix.

Spooky gets out and back in the backseat with you.  He lifts you up against him, holding our head as he answers 911.

“Yeah we are on Jefferson and 38th, down by the office building.  My girl’s in labor.”  Spooky winces as you squeeze his hand, shaking your head back and forth through the pain.

“39 weeks….Contractions?  Uh like 5 minutes apart….The baby’s not out yet, I don’t know…”

Spooky goes quiet a second listening to the 911 operator.  “Shit!  Ok, I’ll see.”

Spooky gets out of the car again, causing you to panic.  “No no!  Where are you going Oscar?”  you hold your belly feeling the urge to push as he opens the other door that is in front of you, getting a clear view of burgeoning birth.

Spooky’s eyes are filled with fear and worry.  “I see him.  God, he’s coming out!  He’s got so much hair.”  He wipes his eyes as they turn red with emotion.  

“Oh God, that’s good.  Now get him out please!”  you beg Spooky as he puts the phone down and on speaker to talk to 911.

“Get a blanket, or jacket or shirt, something to wrap the baby up in,”  the operator instructs.  Sooky takes off his jacket, placing it down in front of you.

“Ok, now what?”   Spooky asks.  You cry out in pain as you instinctively push.

“That sounds like a contraction.  Every time she feels one, she needs to push and you have to be ready to catch that baby.”

“Ok, baby.  Push through the pain.  Come on.”  

“Once the baby’s head is out, don’t pull it but hold it as she pushes through the shoulders.  Is the cord around its neck?”

Spooky shakes his head as you scream.  “No, but he’s coming out so fast!”

“Get the jacket ready!”  the operator exclaims.  

Spooky looks at you straining once more to push as your child enters the world in a Carhartt jacket.  A wave of relief washes over you and you both begin to weep, looking over the prettiest gooped up screaming baby you both ever laid eyes on.

“That sounds like a good cry!  What did you have?”  the operator asks.

Spooky wraps him up tight.  “A boy.  He’s a baby boy.”  He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt.  Looking up at you with elation.  “You did it baby, here he is.  What about the cord, do I cut it?”

“I would hold off until the ambulance arrives.  Congratulations guys, for now keep the baby warm and tight, the ambulance should be there any minute to look over the baby and get him and mom to the hospital.  Merry Christmas you all!”

“Merry Christmas,” you both say.  You hold your baby tight to you, wiping off his face as his lower lip trembles with a whimper.  Thick dark hair covers the top of his head and you pull out his little hands just to kiss them.  

“All ten,”  you look down at his narrow feet, “...toes too.”

Spook kneels on the car floor looking down at his son with you, sniffling.  “He’s got eyes like mine.  Eyebrows too.”

You nod.  “Hair too.  Damn shame.  You should grow yours so you’re twins.”

Spooky laughs.  “Maybe.”  He lays his hand on the back of your head, kissing your forehead, your nose, your lips.  “You did so good, baby.”

“I think that’s the most scared I ever seen you be, Oscar.  A little baby had the gangster on his knees today.”

Spooky sighs.  “Please. It was you being in pain, cuz I never want to see you like that, and then...he’s out and...this is some tough shit."

You cradle the side of his face as his tears roll over the tattooed ones on his face. You coo at him, trying not to laugh just because his hard demeanor has turned completely to jelly for care over his new family.

Your eyes well up again looking from him to your son.  “I still can’t believe it.  He did me dirty for this one.  I wish he had the little hat I packed for him.”

Spooky’s eye catches something in the back behind his backseat.  “Yo, yes!  Look!”

He reaches over the two of you to find navy blue bag with cartoon doggies all over.  Your heart swells at the sight.

“The bag!  Why did you stuff it back there?!”

He unzips it, excitedly rummaging around.  “For an emergency!  It’s a backup, but I put this in here...”

He reveals a grey hat with multi colored triangles down the middle that makes your baby resemble a mini sleeping dinosaur.  You both help to carefully slide it on top, keeping his eyes free although his have stay cozily closed.

You chuckle to yourself.  “You got him his first.  You did it.  Daddy brought some Christmas to him.”

Spooky kisses his son once more before noticing the approaching sirens and lights in the distance.

“I’m gonna give him a lot. You both won’t need for anything, just so he can be great.  Greater than me even.  My first born, my world.”

[heyaeolus]

Overthinking

Summary: Kuroo lets out hurtful words carelessly and tries to pull you out off your mental misery. Genre: Angst to Fluff Warning/s: Overthinking (as the title suggests), self-depreciation, toxic past relationship

Feeling overwhelmed by the words he threw at me, tears came flowing out of my eyes. I could not even stop them. I've lost control of my emotions after those words escaped his mouth, "Let's just go home for now."

It wasn't anything serious but it tells a lot about how he feels about me at the moment. And possibly what he will feel for me in the next days. It could even lead to the end of us.

Before my thoughts could completely cloud over my consciousness, I was pulled back by the sudden halt of the car. Tetsurou's voice rung through the silence, "You're overthinking, aren't you?"

He closed his eyes, sighing. When he looked at me again, his lips were in a slight smile as he gazed at my tear-streaked face. "Oh no, this crybaby's on a roll again," Tetsu frowned—I noted the hint of playfulness in his tone. He pulled out my seatbelt and hoisted me up so I was seated on the center aisle. His arm stayed around my waist while the other scooped my legs to rest on his thighs.

"Tell me your thoughts."

I was ready to share but then his lips pressed against mine. The contact instantly made my brain go fuzzy, throwing my rational thinking outside the window.

He didn't stop from the light kiss, he cupped my face with a hand and left small pecks all over my face, wiping my tears with his thumb. "Hmmm... kitten, I won't know... unless you tell," he told me in between the kisses he showered me in.

I bit my lip in frustration which caused him to glare at me and pull my lip with his thumb resting on my face. "Don't bite that," a kiss on the lip, "We don't want that cracking again." I furrowed my brows, looking down.

"Kitten, time's running. Where did the words go?" he patted my thighs lightly, a gesture for me to speak.

I gulped down the lump in my throat before opening my lips to speak up, "I-I just thought... you-you don't want to see me again. Because... because you want to cut the night short already."

I felt his deep chuckle against my temple, the location of the freshest kiss he left on me. He pulled away, the first time since he started peppering me with kisses, "And is that all?"

His eyes gazed at me, etched with concern because he knows what it's like to be in my position.

I nodded meekly, not wanting to spill my thoughts and turn into a weeping mess before him once again. There's just a certain threshold of tears one could handle everyday and I know I'm reaching his danger level.

"Sure?" he prodded, insistent on getting me to talk. To add to the pressure of the thoughts running in my head, he let the silence hang between us. It was a clear sign that he won't let me go this time for this. In defeat, I started, "And that I'm not good enough. And all those girls are far better. And that..." His frown grew deeper at my words. "Oh kitten," his arms tightened around my waist once again, "What could I ever do to get that bullshit out of your head?" He moves towards me to put his body flush to mine, his warmth spreading on my skin.

It calms me knowing he knows how to handle me. He knows how to make me talk, smile, and laugh. It was a different experience with him. Dating a man, instead of a boy, definitely tells the correlation between dating and maturity. He buries his head on my chest and angrily mumbles, "I'll punch that asshole if I could but my hands are too expensive for that cheap surface." I chuckled at his comment. He had been throwing those random pokes at my ex ever since I told him everything — my past relationship, the toxicity, the guilt-tripping my ex bounded me with. All the reasons why the relationship dragged for so long just to exhaust me. And to think I said that to him to drive him off once because my insecurities were eating on me when he was talking to a client, made me realize just how understanding he is.

"That's my girl," his chin, rests on my chest now so he could gaze at me. It makes me squirm, being naturally ticklish. But his gaze made me settle, hazel eyes staring back at me with utter sincerity.

"You're everything, okay? There's no better fit for me than you," his hand reaches for the back of my head so he could pull me down, placing another kiss. His lips are partially dry, the surface felt hard before they were dampened as it touched mine. I felt his love and passion radiate through the kiss. It was beautiful. "You got that?"

I pursed my lips, nodding slightly. My cheeks were surely painted in a deep blush right now. "I think you don't," his eyes were narrowed as he looks at me.

"I-I do!" I protested, wrapping my arms on his neck. He snorted, "Kitten, the 'I do' is for the wedding." I hit his arm in retaliation to his joke while he chuckles at my embarrassed state. He reaches for the dashboard monitor and goes through his contacts. He stops on my father's details. I gasped when he wiggles his brows at me, "Don't do it! Anything you're planning, drop it now!"

"Don't worry. Dad's going to let me take you home tonight," he smirks at me.

"That's impossible!"

"Watch me, kitten," he kisses me again, pressing my father's contact to dial him up.

A/N: I actually didn't intend to post this on tumblr since I wrote this solely for the purpose of letting my stress loose. And I also don't know how people in here would like a first person pov, heh, and I'm rambling too much soooo... But tbh, y'all need to break up with dem partners if the luv isn't there anymore. Find a man like Kuroo.

[yabakuboi]

Ao3 Link in Replies

Stiles hits it, the Jeep rocking from the impact, screaming, “Is that the fucking mothman?!”

It’s not, going by the lack of man appendages and tight ass. (Really, have you not seen the cake on mothman’s kaboose? It would put to shame even this most delicious of booties, even Dere—)

Derek slides into the passenger seat, hissing, “Drive, idiot,” just as the not-mothman takes to the air all slithery like. Flying things shouldn’t slither. Stiles feels adamant about this as he puts the Jeep into gear and sprays gravel as he peels away. Monsters need to keep to their genres, no overlap. You can have wings, or you can be slithery, you can’t have both.

Not-mothman apparently said a big Fuck You to that rule however, when it slams into the top of the Jeep, the tentacles sliding through the open windows and ripping the roof from over their heads. And Stiles hasn’t really stopped screaming since he hit the gas to run the thing over, but he decides to kick it up a notch as his roof rack disappears onto the side of the road.

And Derek, like the absolute caveman he is, reaches up and rips the fucking head off of not-mothman.

There’s a spray of goop, and Stiles only barely has the wherewithal to close his mouth since he’s still screaming.

“I hate you,” he wails, when his impromptu gore shower is complete and his interior is ruined. Again. “I hate you so, so much.”

Glowering, Derek just sits back down and buckles his seatbelt. Behind them, not-mothman twitches and withers on the back bench, and Stiles internally weeps for his poor baby, used and abused by every werewolf she’s come across.

“I’ll pay for it,” Derek says over the whistling wind. “Just drive faster.”

“I’m supposed to be working on my thesis, Derek,” Stiles whines. “In my apartment. My cozy, safe, non-not-mothman-gore-encrusted apartment.”

Stiles can feel when Derek begins to sulk. “Well, sor-ry, I didn’t realize it was such an inconvenience to come and visit with your pack,” he hisses, crossing his arms and pointedly looking away.

“Oh my god, you’re such a baby!” Stiles crows, grinning now. “You could also be in my nice warm apartment. So could the entire pack! In San Diego!!”

Derek’s lip curls and Stiles snickers.

“We could have gone to Sea World.”

“I don’t want to go to a park that abuses killer whales.”

“Fine, La Jolla then. You like surfing.”

“That’s way too crowded.”

“Oh, c��mon baby,” Stiles coos. He reaches across the center console to wriggle his fingers into the tight press between Derek’s arm and his side. Derek doesn’t budge, still pouting, and Stiles loves when he pouts. “You’re just mad because I had to save your pretty ass. Again.”

“What were you even doing out here?” Derek grumbles.

Stiles holds up his phone without looking at Derek as he finally pulls back out on the highway. The glow of his screen is the only light they have besides the red darkness of the low moon, ocher orange where it hangs just above the trees. Derek glances at and scowls more, seeing the little dot tracking his phone make it’s steady pace up the highway they’re currently cruising down. “Literally on my way to save your sorry ass. What were you doing out here?”

Derek grumbles something that Stiles can’t hear over the wind and tires.

But he does relax his arms, and lets Stiles pull his hand over until their fingers are intertwined between them.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the collateral damage that is my fucking car!”

“I was coming out to meet you, jackass!”

Stiles glares at him. “You mean you were coming out to scare the shit out of me by standing in the middle of the road in the middle of the night, fuck you!”

Now Derek is smirking. “Woulda been worth it.”

“And, what? You found mothman instead?”

“It wasn’t mothman.”

“You saying it’s not mothman implies that there IS a mothman, which is horrifying.”

Derek says nothing for a long moment.

“Is there a mothman??” Stiles hisses. They hit the Beacon County limits, but there’s still only miles of forest on either side of the road. Beacon Hills is still a thirty minute drive.

“There’s no such thing as mothman,” Derek says with confidence.

“Which means there’s a high possibility there IS a mothman, and probably it will visit us at Christmas and will break all your window,” Stiles sighs. “I can’t believe you would speak that into existence, you know what your luck is like.”

Derek bares his teeth at him, but is otherwise silent. That’s how they stay all the way into town, through, and out the other side, back into the woods. The Hale House—new and whole after exactly five years of construction because Derek did every bit of it himself with only the pack for help because he’s actually insane—greets them with lit windows, warm and yellow and inviting.

Stiles misses it immediately when Derek lets go of his hand.

“Are you going to leave not-mothman’s corpse to rot in my back seat all night?”

Derek smirks at him over Stiles’s new topless Jeep. What would have taken him an hour to achieve, not-mothman managed in five seconds. “Something will come drag it off, I’m sure.”

Stiles rounds the front of the car, meeting Derek half way. “I would rather only one beast at a time in my Jeep, thank you very much.”

Derek’s hands drop to Stiles’s waist immediately as they step into each other’s space, pulling him in until they’re pressed flush to each other’s front. He doesn’t waste a breath before he dips down and kisses Stiles, tilting his head as he goes, smiling against Stiles’s lips when Stiles gasps into his mouth.

They stay there for a long time, tasting each other, slow and unhurried, until Derek pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Stile’s hair line.

“I missed you,” he admits. His eyes are closed, and his smile curves his lips in the sweetest angle. Something secret, for Stiles only.

“I missed you, too,” Stiles murmurs, and leans back in for another kiss, another stretch of time where it’s just the two of them saying hello again after a long time apart. He grins. “But also we’re both disgusting, and I feel gross, and I want to take a shower in your giant bathroom, preferably with you if you’re feeling amiable enough.”

“I thought you wanted me to get rid of the not-mothman.”

Stiles glances at the giant dent in the front of the Jeep and winces. But… If Stiles is going to choose between clean up and clean up (the naked, fun kind of clean up), he’s definitely going to go for the latter. Especially after a ten hour drive and eight red bulls. Seriously, he should have flown home and then he wouldn’t have a dead body in his car.

“Shut up,” Stiles grumps. “I want to be naked in like the next thirty seconds if you think you can manage it.”

Derek bends down and throws Stiles over his shoulder, snickering when Stiles squawks and kicks his feet. “I think I can manage that,” he says, and refuses to acknowledge the squeak he makes when Stiles pinches his ass.

[ubemango]

commission 4: slow burn/best friends/college au w/  jin

(+or: we’re best friends and you’re literally So Great and i suck at knowing what i want but anyway i’m starting to think i like you ??????? au)

note 1: For my very very sweet and understanding friend @yeuj​ who helped me out when I needed it most .... I hope you enjoy 🥺🥺💕!!!!!! And thank you to Micah + Clove for helping me with my questions—thank you for your thoughtfulness, insight, and love!!!!! 🌷🌷🌷

note 2: I tried to make ramen-making as unboring as possible but it really is just....water and spice. If you’re confused about eating ramen at convenience stores please search that up on Youtube, I’ve exhausted my link resource skills (except for when I want you to listen to songs.) Also, the songs I mention are titanic/the end by cehryl and Subside by Eloise. I actually listened to Sweet Night on repeat while writing this so if u wanna listen to that... ;_;

note 3: everything about this story is in medias res. I realized I had no proper beginning or conclusion and I didn’t wanna change the flow of the story by concretely adding one or the other... so if the story feels incomplete/fragmented then please understand that this was a conscious and intentional decision done on my part :,) It’s slow burn!!!! I Love you ha ha!!

(i)

The library is open twenty four hours. The convenience store in the student centre is not.

“Please use your car,” you assert.

Seokjin huffs. “Then pay for my gas.”

It’s an empty threat. He’s got no business driving hard bargains when he has capital in the form of a rich CEO dad. He ignores your glaring, calmly closing his laptop, shoving it into his bag. Closing up shop after a derivative crisis you’d called him up for because he lives on campus, plus he never sleeps early. You appreciate that he gives into you so easily.

“Fine.”

So you go, searching for a convenience store that has those instant noodles you suddenly came up with a craving for this late at night. Seokjin’s used to it by now. You get things done when you want to, even if it means making a home of the pillowy chairs in the library you’d claimed for studying purposes.

The mathematical theory of chaos. You don’t want to think about it, and you click your seatbelt with a yell, throw your bag in the backseat with as much strength your anger allows for. “I hate school!”

“Please don’t scream in the car.”

“I hate it!”

Seokjin slots the key in. “Can you look up where the convenience store is?”

He tosses you his phone to unlock. You jab at the screen with more grumbling and colourful cursing, pulling up whatever Google Maps says is the nearest store open.

“Plug in the AUX cord,” Seokjin urges next. He merges into traffic, which is really only one car and the late night bus. A quiet night for your suffering.

“Can I play my—“

“Nope.” You sneer. Tapping open his playlists, you pass under orange lamp post after orange lamp post and scroll in silence before Seokjin groans. “I made a new playlist, pick that one.”

“What’s it called?”

You can see that he’s stiffened up. You don’t comment. “The one with the three heart emojis.”

Simple enough. You don’t care to sift through the songs, and the first one plays with one more indulgent tap of the screen.

Why don’t you tell her? I think you should. You know how you’re feeling, you can’t fight the truth…

Google interrupts the soft voice with the indication of the next right. Seokjin eases on the gas pedal. You watch him nod his head to the softness of the stereo. “I can’t pay for your gas.”

“I know you can’t.”

“I can pay for your ramen,” you suggest. Seokjin makes a quiet noise, like he’s amused by your generosity, or maybe he just thinks you’re dumb. You think it’s the latter.

“I don’t want you to pay for my ramen.”

“Then what do you want?”

The lamp post light striking Seokjin’s face gives way to the harsh red of the stoplight. In the stillness, he sends you a hard look. It makes you feel weirdly vulnerable, like he’s stripped you bare.

To make things worse, Seokjin says:

“Nothing you don’t want to give me.”

He doesn’t heed your confusion because he presses on the gas, looks straight ahead. You do too, and you try not to contemplate the cool brevity of his attention you suddenly want back. You push your uncertainty aside.

(He has a handsome face, you think.)

Seokjin interrupts, “So why’d you wait till now to study?”

“You know me.” Procrastination. The complete and utter mistake of underestimating the allotted time needed to get a successful grasp of concepts for your midterm. In not so convoluted terms, this class sucks ass.

“Yeah but that was—a lot of notes.”

It was. You probably pushed five weeks of material in the span of three hours. You can feel the very tips of your nervous system frying up as you pass through gas station-lit intersections. But there’s a real answer to his question, and you have the intense need to curl in on yourself in this leather seat.

“Well I would have started yesterday, but I was busy,” you counter.

“With what?”

“So you know Hyukjae from Psych?”

Seokjin pauses to listen to Google’s instructions, and immediately makes a left onto another main intersection. “Sure.”

“We went out yesterday,” you admit.

He hums a tight sound, tapping on the wheel. “Hm. How’d it go?”

It wasn’t bad. You shared butter tarts and laughed at his anecdotes and Hyukjae-from-Psych paid for your Uber home. He gave you a very weak hug before you slipped into the car. It was in that seat you’d decided you wouldn’t be sending him an I had fun! text that night.

“It was okay. Like, nice to me and stuff. But nothing…”

“…Worth revisiting.”

“Sure,” you mimic, and you wonder why he’s right.

“The guy’s okay,” he says. Almost like it’s with relief. “It’s—not to sound rude, but. Uh. I think it’s, uh—good. That you weren’t… interested.”

You think he’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why?”

“Can’t trust guys with bad handshakes.” Seokjin chances a glance at you, and laughs at the confused scrunch of your eyebrows. “I met him during that networking conference in third year. Limp-wristed me. Like a chump.”

“Ew.” You can’t say he’s wrong. That hug Hyukjae gave you really was weak. The dude has noodles for arms. “But yeah, I guess you’re right. Wasn’t really my type.”

“Hm,” is all Seokjin comes up with. You watch him pass right through the turn Google tells him to take. “Oh shit. Sorry. I’m just. Thinking. About… limp… men.”

You snort. “What?”

“Like a man. A limp man. Hyukjae. Not me,” he clarifies fast—proudly— “just. Anyway! Back to you saying what your type was.”

“I wasn’t,” you accuse.

“Yeah well now I’m asking because I don’t wanna think about limp men. Your type, please.”

He sounds weirdly inquisitive. Demanding, almost. You chalk it up to the near-delirium of being awake past 1AM.

“I—don’t know,” you start. Somehow you feel like you’re messing something up. “He was kind, I like… kind. And soft. Sweet. You know Kim Taehyung? From Neuro? Like, almost big shoulders but not really. I like big shoulders. Yeah. Guys like Kim Taehyung-ish.”

Seokjin just hums again. There’s another song playing, and you don’t know how many you’ve rotated through in this playlist. You didn’t think it’d take this long to get to the store.

Google says it’s just two minutes away now. Seokjin says, “Cool,” and then sings along to the stereo.

You got me losing sleep over you… I usually sit still but now I can’t help but move… When I see you, I don’t know what to do…

(ii)

“Spicy or not spicy?”

“Whatever keeps my stomach lining intact,” Seokjin says.

You don’t say anything more and grab two of whatever ramen packaging isn’t scarily red. The convenience store is void of any customers, and the cashier rings you up with a very sour face for interrupting the show he’s got playing on his phone. His face shrivels up even more because all you can pay with is coins. Seokjin laughs behind you when you apologize for clattering the dimes too harshly on the counter.

“Enjoy,” the cashier announces, and he doesn’t mean it one bit.

The hot water machine at the back is a very intimidating thing next to the tiny display of cookies.  Too many buttons and knobs you don’t understand, so Seokjin takes on the chivalric role and prepares everything for you. He rips the plastic open with gentle hands. Dumps the powder with too much conviction.

You both watch the water stream hot into the noodles. “Do you like macadamia nuts in your cookies?”

“I guess,” you say.

“Wanna split a cookie?” He hands you chopsticks to stir the ramen with, gestures at the cookie display with a jut of his chin.

“Are you paying?”

“Can you imagine if I made you pay after I asked to split,” Seokjin spits at you. “Yes I’m paying.”

“Then I want chocolate chip.”

He freezes, then jabs smartly at his noodles for a tense ten seconds.

“You make me mad,” he finally answers. “Should we eat in the car?”

“The bowl is too hot to hold.”

The counter at the window it is. You’re sad that you didn’t buy pickled radish, but your coin purse has weeped all its coinage out. Seokjin leaves you as Noodle Guard, going off to pay for that bonus cookie with a crumpled five. In the next second you contemplate the evaporation of ramen soup, the cookie is duly dumped right next to you, and Seokjin takes a huge bite of what still appears to be extremely hot noodles.

He promptly chokes, and makes sputtering noises.

“Holy shit,” Seokjin cries.

You take a much, much slower bite. “You’ll be fine.”

“I thought I could be cool for you,” he cries some more.

“You don’t need to be cool for me. Who eats ramen in a cool way?”

Seokjin nods his approval, that tear of theatrics sliding down his cheekbone. He eats carefully. A noisy car roils on outside, and passes quickly outside your periphery.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you remember to say.

“I love standing at counters and eating things hot,” Seokjin retorts. He dodges the fist you aim at his abdomen with swift ease. “It’s no problem.”

“I—“ You don’t really know why but you need to talk. “You know—you’re really, um, kind.”

Foolery. Absolute foolery that sentence was, and the cashier probably heard that foolery, and Seokjin definitely heard that absolute foolery, and he’s laughing. Like really laughing, caught with the noodles dangling from in-between his teeth. That’s all you had to say? The guy drove you out to get cup noodles out of his own volition. That’s kindness maxed out, and he deserves better than you fumbling between your teeth. Your nerves have fried up so bad, you guess.

Seokjin’s giggles dwindle down. “Thanks,” he says, smiling small.

You blame the heat of your cheeks from the heat of your soup.

Neither of you are desperate to get to that last quarter of noodles to broth ratio. The knots of your shoulders loosen with the sound of your slurping combined, and silently you are reminded of Seokjin’s warmth, standing so close to you.

The easiest path to a nice ending involves a happy belly and Seokjin driving you home with nothing more than a goodbye and a thank-you as you slam the car door shut. This is not unknown to you, because you and Hyukjae-from-Psych took that easy path yesterday.

You just don’t do this often, contemplating all the routes of romance. When is it appropriate to laugh at a joke, to wipe your mouth on the napkin? To smile and peel at your heart and grant that person access to all your inner workings? You belatedly notice that Seokjin did not bring napkins.

(The moment in the car—nothing you don’t want to give me—you want to laugh at his jokes, and smile, peel and peel and peel at your heart, but slowly. Slowly, you put your chopsticks down.)

How funny it is to come to very sound conclusions within a split second, because all you know is that it feels good, being with him like this.

Seokjin, in your quiet realization, takes it upon himself to decide the cookie-eating rights.

“Want the first bite?” He asks, propping the chopsticks horizontally on his bowl.

You nod. Desperately you try not to look at him because you might make more realizations, and you don’t think you’re ready for any more unleashed and unknown emotions. “Please.”

He gives it to you. The right side decidedly has more chocolate chips, and  it’s a very nice explosion on your tongue. So nice you groan into it. “Oh that’s really good.”

He snatches the cookie away before you can take another bite. “I get bigger bites because I paid for it.”

“That—? Uh, that’s not how sharing works.”

“Yes it does,” Seokjin argues. But he just takes as normal a bite as ever. You can’t say you don’t focus on his mouth for too long, though—

—And you immediately seize up at the thought. Horrified, you shriek: “Actually just—have the rest of it!”

He looks alarmed. “O…kay?”

“You’ve got a nice mouth,” you blurt out next.

An absolutely awful feeling settles heavy in your stomach. Because almost immediately you realize that this is a kind and soft boy with nice anecdotes that have yet to be uncovered this night (he likes telling you stories) and he’s got wider shoulders than Kim Taehyung and you’re not sharing butter tarts but you’re sharing a cookie with him.

Another realization: does Seokjin have limp arms?

He puts the cookie down. (His arm looks very strong, doing that.) “I—thanks?”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” you note.

He watches you slump over the counter. Purposefully burying your face in your elbows to muffle your betraying mouth. “It’s late,” is all he says.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” You don’t think you’re breathing. Your lungs have evaporated, like those steamy ramen noodles you just ate. Seokjin probably notices you’ve stopped moving, so he says, “Really.”

“Okay.”

“Did it—did it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” you say.

“Cool. Do you wanna go—“

You stand up straight, grab all your garbage before he finishes. You don’t look at him. “Yep, yep, please.”

(iii)

He puts the key in the ignition, and doesn’t budge.

“Somehow I feel like you wanna say something else,” Seokjin says.

You curl your hands into fists. “It’s late.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” You are acutely aware of how garbled you must sound. It’s starting to get on your nerves, how flimsy you’re being. “I’m not… thinking.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re being pretty articulate for someone with an empty brain.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seokjin sighs.

The seat squeaks where you tense up. “I don’t want to think about your mouth.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” You nod. Jesus. You’ll just let him do the talking from now on because your tongue can’t be trusted this early in delirium, late in the hour. “I—I…”

Seokjin struggles some more, then deflates. He starts laughing.

“I… don’t drive just anyone out to convenience stores at two in the morning for ramen. You have to know that.” He clears his throat. His eyes are shiny with the harsh glare of neon signs. “I guess I just—wanna know… what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking…” Your lips part. Searching for words feels like a physical thing—your stomach is swimming with what feels like a billion thoughts but nothing comes up for air. “I’m thinking I—don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Seokjin turns to look at you. “I won’t make fun,” he whispers.

“I think. I think, you look—um—really… Good. Um. R-Really… good, right now.”

“Thanks.” He looks up like he wants to say something but his eyes harden where he gazes, locking in on the dust motes of the windshield. Your lungs swell small in the quietude. “I think you really look good, too.”

If baser compliments already have you burning then you don’t know what you’d do if he tried anything more romantically complex. Some people are meant for loud love stories and grand gestures and you—all you can do is think too much and you want to say more but Seokjin understands. He understands your silence, your ineptitude.

In a fit of controlled passion, you reach over the console, grasping at his knuckles till he flips his palm right into yours.

“Feels… ”

You wait for something to come to mind. A phrase, a proper thought to give utterance to, all the failures and successes of the night. Faithfully, nothing comes.

It just feels.

And Seokjin seems to agree. He holds tight between the grooves of your fingers.

“You’re very pretty and it hurts,” he says, and he doesn’t try to meet your gaze, and one feeling comes resolute: it feels right.

[thewritingstar]

When the Night is Still Young

Pairing: Brute x Princess 

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

notes: Did I write this because @sxnalien art and couldn’t stop thinking about how good it was? absolutely Plus this ship needs more love and I shall serve. Enjoy :)  

tag list: @shellielyzabeth @over-under-through1 (if you want to be on my tag list I have a post about that.)

---

The wind was light and fair as it rolled through Townsville. It was one of those nights that nothing happened. No monster attacks or a bank being robbed. Rare but peaceful. Unless you were a part of the Morebucks household. No every night was pure bliss as the richest girl in the city and probably the entire country, waltzed towards her room ready to turn in for the night.

Her glass of milk was set on her nightstand that was embezzled with pure gold and hefty sapphires as the handles. She was one of high class and taste so anything under $500 would not cut it. Even the mountain of pillows that laid on her king size bed had more worth than most of the salaries of the kids on the far side of town. Big, flashy, rich. Her taste couldn’t be matched.

She grabbed her novel and slipped into bed where the finest silk sheets of a deep purple hue laid. Even at age 24, she was just as many remembered. Spoiled, chunning, spoiled, rude, spoiled, hot, spoiled, manipulative and of course spoiled rotten.

But when Daddy Morebucks had more money than most, what else were you to expect? In fact her taste proved in every aspect of her life.The food she ate was organic and came from the best chefs around. The clothes were designer and handbags imported from overseas. Her jewels had rare value and she loved nothing more than to show off her money. Even the people she dated were a part of her social level.

She flipped the page of her book as her lamp, that came from Paris and was crafted from stained glass, gave a soft glow. It was quiet and the estate had turned in for the night. The only thing she heard was the soft tapping of the wind.

And then the shuffle of the balcony door lock.

“You’re late.” Princess said as another page was turned. A grumbled came from the window as it closed.

“You’re lucky I'm even here.”

The book was taken out of her hands and she looked up to see the pair of greens eyes. Black eyeliner was caked around them, bringing out the rich color that glowed under the soft light of the lamp.

“Still dressing like a street rat I suppose.” Princess smirked and a dark chuckle came from the other girl.

“You act like you don’t like the chains and spikes. Sugar Plum.” Brute winked as she flashed a grin that showcased her slightly sharpened canines.

Princess pressed her lips together as her cheeks puffed out into a pout knowing she was right. But nonetheless her eyes traveled down. For someone who only wore Louis Vuitton and Gucci, she found out that her soft spot was black crop tops, leather jackets and a spiked collar that made her shiver every time it was worn around Brute's neck.

“Maybe I do. Get over it.” Princess spat as Brute leaned until her nose bumped hers.

“You’re such a little brat ya know?” She said as she took her lips into a bruising kiss.

--

If you would have told Princess that she would one day end up underneath the notorious green powerpunk. She would have laughed and thrown a gold bar at your face. She had only dated men whose wallets were almost as big as hers and just as snotty. Yet not once did she ever feel something more than physical attraction, even then it was slim.

She wanted high class and someone who could stand their own next to her. No one had ever come close to it. The relationships would turn to dust in a matter of months and deep down she wanted to have someone there who appreciated her for more than money, she was human after all.

And that's when she met Brute. One of the galas she had attended was coming to the end and she had decided that the world had seen enough of her for the night. Since it was one of the smaller events, Princess took her own car. Sometimes the limos were too stuffy and she preferred to drive the night with the windows down and her own tune humming.

“Damn these heels.” She groaned as the elevator to the parking garage was now out of order. She pushed open the stairwell and wished she had her jetpack to soar her through the sky. The click of her black stilettos echoed as she climbed the stairs.

The top of the parking garage came into view as she opened the last door and clicked her phone to make sure that whoever didn’t fix that damn elevator would be fired or seriously hurt. The luxury convertible with her signature license plate was on the other side and sometimes she wondered why she did this to herself.

Huffing, she continued in her tall heels not noticing the door behind her opening. In those mere seconds of her pulling out her eyes, she felt an arm wrap around her waist. She let out a yelp before throwing her elbow back and twisting the arm not caring about the snap that came with it. She turned before sending her foot in between the legs of the man who dared to touch her.

“Get the fuck off of me!” She growled before shoving the tip of her heel down next to his face, missing him by a hair.

Her eyes glared down at the man now weeping on the ground. His hands were raised in a shudder as he tried to regain his breath from being thrown to the ground and kicked in the balls. Quickly she leaned down and took a picture of his id before tossing it at his face and spraying him with pepper spray for good measure.

She ignored his scream as she walked away and texted the picture to her personal body guards. “Fucking scum bags.”

Her head was now sprouting a headache and all she wanted to do was get home and be surrounded by her riches. Princess narrowed her eyes as she came closer to her car and noticed a figure leaning against it. Smoke blowing from their lips as the cigarette sat between their fingers.

“Unless you are going to pay for those scratches, beat it!” She spat and pointed her finger.

The cigarette was dropped to the ground with an immature flip and black combat boots came down on it like a bug. The light gave out as she looked up with a dark chuckle, the last of the smoke dissipating into the air and Princess felt the shiver in her spine as she noticed the sinister grin coming from the other woman.

“This little thing?” The woman, she assumed was around her age, trailed her finger along the hood. “I’ve seen better.”

The red head rolled her eyes and looked her up and down. “What do you want Brute?”

Brute tilted her head like a dog getting offered a walk. “Ahh so the queen knows who i am.” She pushed off the car and threw a hand in her pocket. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not like you keep a low profile. Everyone knows who the Punks are.” She spat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to leave.” She tried to take a step but Brute blocked her path.

“The night is still young Sugar Plum.” Brute raised her eyebrow and Princess suddenly felt so small against those green eyes.

“Why would I want to spend my valuable time with you?” She asked.

Brute chuckled and shrugged. “Not too sure babe. But I did just watch you kick and spray that poor sucker over there and now I'm intrigued.”

Maybe Princess didn’t notice the blush creeping up on her cheeks but she pushed all thoughts away and scoffed. “He’s a creep and I don’t have time for nonsense. Goodnight.” She pushed past and clicked her car door open.

“Yay know. I wish I were in town to see the old Princess.” Brute said and she paused.

“Old Princess?”

“Yep.” Brute popped the P. “The infamous Princess Morebucks. Doesn’t take shit from anyone and does what she wants. So sad that we are so young and yet you parade around like daddys little golden medal, making sure to please everyone with an image you don’t want to keep.”

“It’s called running a business.” Princess said quickly yet she hated that the other woman was right.

“No need to get defensive, I’m just saying that I thought you were much more wild. Afterall you were a super villain but maybe you’ve been humbled down to a spoiled brat whose only reckless behavior is staying up till one.” Brute smirked before turning on her heel. “See ya later Sugar Plum.”

Brute began to walk. The metal chain belt made a slight rattling as she inched closer and closer towards the stairwell. Princess stood as she looked at her steering wheel then back at the punk. Something inside of her wanted to just drive away, feel the freedom that she used to as a teenager.

She got into the car, seatbelt clashing loudly as if all sound had been turned off around her. Her hands gripped the wheel and her eyes glanced towards the sky where the moon was hardly up.

The engine roared to life and she pulled out of the parking space making her way towards the exit.

“Get in.” She said and the punk turned around with a devious grin. A shutter went through her spine as the door opened and the seat filled in with Brute.

“Alright Sugar Plum, lets see that wild side.” And soon the parking lot was filled with dust as rubber burned through the city's streets.

--

You could hear the music blasting from the street as the pair walked up to the door.

“A club?” Brute asked yet she was impressed with the location.

It was located on the far side of town. The crime rate here had skyrocketed over the years and if you wanted to find a drug paradise, check between the cracks of the sidewalks.

Princess led her to the door. Her ID didn’t need to be checked as they passed the long line and were ushered in quickly. The dim lights only held a sea of bodies grinding against one another while cheap booze flowed in their veins.

The music was terrible and the smell might have been worse but she grabbed the punk's hand and led her to the dance floor without a care in the world. Their hips swayed and soon they had a drink in their hands.

The red head let the alcohol flood her system and soon the music wasn’t as bad as before. She kept her eyes focused on those dazzling greens. She hated the color beforehand. Thought that it was trashy unless it was a crisp hundred bill. But now even with the blazing light, she could see the flecks of the hue taking shape in her iris and wanted to explore it further.

“I never would have pegged you as a club person.” Brute said in her ear as the Princess pressed her back to her chest.

“It's the only place no one cares who you are.” She said as her hand made its way to Brutes cheeks and pulled her into a kiss.

Maybe she let the world of her father's business consume her before her life had even started. Maybe Brute was right. She was Princess Motherfucking Morebucks. The same girl who used to build rockets and lasers just to destoy the puffs and now she was wasting what should be her reckless party years, doing things she would be doing for the rest of her life.

Brute's hands traveled down until she spun the red head around and kissed her again. Princess’s hands wandered to her neck as she tugged slightly at the spiked collar with a large metal loop.

“There's that wild side.” Brute said against her lips as she pulled her impossible closer while the music played. “I like it.”

Princess couldn’t tell what was driving her insane. The third shot of vodka or the way her lips felt like molten lava, a tingling sensation she had never had before but she was craving it like no other. All her past relationships came into her mind.

Man after man, not one could even bring Princess the satsiaction to even smile. They had all been the one thing she hated most, boring. Fake smiles, only there for her last name and to climb the ranks, that all she was. She was a bank vault that many wanted to access and she had begun to just give up the code, but not anymore. She didn’t want boring and she certainly wouldn’t be that.

Brute was far from it. Piercings and tattoos covered her arm, something her father would disaprove of greatly, and yet she didn’t have a care in the world as she just let the music play on.

--

Princess kissed her back, enjoying the way the metal lip pieces felt against her lips. It was electrifying and freeing as Brute kissed her neck. She had been captivated by the punk. The way she doted on her like no man had before. She originally thought she was only here for the money, a big fear she kept to herself but although Brute loved cash, she enjoyed the presence of the spoiled girl more.

“I got you something.” Brute whispered in her ear. A shock wave of pleasure jolted through Princess' heart as Brute reached into her pocket and pulled out a velvet box. “I know how much you love chain babes.”

Princess took the box and opened it. It was a silver chain necklace with a small crown charm.

“But I also know that it's not your thing, so I thought something that would remind you of your royal status would do.” She joked but Princess stared at the small necklace with wide eyes.

It was simple and small, yet she felt tears threaten to spill. Her entire life she had been showered with elegant gifts and priceless treasures. She was accustomed to receiving fine things, because it was expected. Sometimes it was underwhelming to constantly get things that never had an emotional value.

She took the necklace out of the wrapping and put it on. The cool metal graced her skin and she felt her cheeks heat up at the sweet gift. She looked up at Brute who had a soft expression, something she wore rarely.

Princess set the box aside and placed her hand against Brute’s cheek.

“It's not diamonds but it will do.” She playfully teased before kissing Brute.

She felt Brute groan against her lips and soon she was laying on top of her.

“You’re still spoiled as ever.” Brute glared as she ran her fingers through the curly ginger locks. “But I still like it.” She winked “Reminds me of when I first saw you beat up that dude.”

“That was two years ago.” Princess blew on her bangs.

Brutes hand lightly slapped her ass making the redhead bury her face in her neck. “Yeah but it was hot.”

Princess hummed. “Whatever. Thank you by the way.” She said the last part quickly.

“Ooooo did I just hear the queen thank me?” Brute laughed and her hands were then held above her head pressing into the sheets. She looked through hooded eyes up at the redhead pinning her from above.

“I’m not repeating myself.” Princess batted her eyelashes.  “Now, let's go for a ride.”

“Really? At two a.m?” Brute smirked.

Princess practically jumped off her bed before walking to her closet and changing quickly. She reappeared wearing a short black dress and her own pair of combat boots. 

Brute sat up with a smirk and gave a low whistle. 

“The nights still young babe.” She said before grabbing Brutes hands and leading out the door to her private garage. Soon her car roared to life and the windows were rolled down as the drove off into the night. 

--

I hope you enjoyed :) 

shout out to my lovely betas: Lisa, Aves and Cilla :) 

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - II - Run

Frantic pounding on the door startles Russia awake.

He sees Finland run to the door and yanks it open.

"WE NEED TO GO!" Rhode Island shouts into the room.

"What?" Finland says and America sits up, tired.

"What's going on darlin'?" America asks sleepily.

"They're finding us, Daddy. There are weird cars circling the parking lot," Missouri stammers, "and Nevada says that they left to get back up."

Finland starts shaking the others awake and America turns to Russia.

"Can you sit up?" America asks.

Russia tries, but can't pull himself up. He shakes his head.

America grins happily.

"You can move your head!" America chirps.

"Okay, that's great," Texas says, "but we don't have much time. We gotta get going Pops."

America moves to stand, and Texas sighs annoyed.

"Come 'ere, I'll carry you. We have to hurry. Kandy, Ari, Mex-i, y'all got the luggage?"

"Yup, we're good," Kansas replies, gathering the bags.

Finland scoops Russia off the bed, and Texas pulls America onto his back.

Finland rushes down the stairs, and Russia lies stiffly in her arms. It was strange, being carried like a clunky box. There are several dozen other pairs of footsteps following them. Virginia bursts through the door, gun in hand, and she scans the dark horizon. The lights outside the side door had been smashed. They run through a near-pitch black parking lot, the crescent moon being the only light illuminating the cars.

Finland hurriedly drops Russia into the backseat, and America is dropped on top of him. America pushes himself up, and Russia looks up. The position Russia ends up in, under America, has his face on fire.

America meets his eyes and giggles.

"Yay, glad to know I didn't lose my magic," America teases.

America leans down and pecks Russia on the cheek. Russia feels his face grow even warmer. America lies back down on Russia's chest and drifts back off almost immediately. Someone jumps into the driver's seat and everyone else loudly scrambles into the car. Headlights and brake lights flicker on from all around, casting strange shadows against the car roof.

New Mexico pokes her head over the seat and sighs, shaking her head. She leans over the seat as Arizona slams on the gas. The car lurches forward, and New Mexico catches herself. She reaches over and pulls the middle seatbelt over the two, clicking it into place behind Russia.

"It's gonna be a bumpy ride," she mumbles before returning to her seat.

The car swerves. America stirs. Russia forces his arms up. It takes all his concentration to lift his arms. He lays his arms around America's back. America relaxes again.

Kansas' phone rings and someone connects it to the car speakers.

"So, I called the President, and I think we're in deep s***." New York starts.

Shouts ring out from the speakers, and America turns his head away.

"What did he say?" America mutters.

"What?" Kansas calls before turning back to the speaker.

"Dad asks 'what did he say?'" Kansas replies.

"He said something about how there's nothing to worry about. B******T!" New York screams in frustration.

"Anything else?" Virginia asks.

"The motherf***er implied that immortality wasn't just for us. I don't know what the f*** that's supposed to mean, but all I do know is that the gov is a bunch of backstabbing b****es," Massachusetts rants.

"That's not good. Not good at all," America mumbles into Russia's chest.

"You can say that again," Texas mutters.

"What are we going to do?" Finland asks aloud, directing the question to no one in particular.

"I don't know. I really don't know," Dixie says, "but for right now, we should keep moving. We can't risk them catching us."

"How did they know we were there?" Connecticut asks.

"I've got a hunch," California says, "they must have been following us since we left the hospital."

"Probably. Or they could be tracking us."

"What do you think they're using to track us?"

"I don't know."

"You think they bugged the cars?"

"Maybe."

The conversation continues, but Russia begins to zone out. Fatigue clouds his thoughts. He shifts slightly, moving his hands under America's shirt, feeling his back. He finds the bandage covering the stitches America has, and he pulls away. He hugs America around the waist, relishing the warmth.

America shivers.

"Your hands are freezing," he mumbles into Russia's chest.

Russia starts to pull away, but America shakes his head.

"No, you're fine," America says softly.

Russia slowly moves his hands back with great concentration. America sighs.

"God, I'm so glad that you're moving again."

'Me too.'

"I wonder when you're going to start talking again."

'Soon. I want to speak. I have a lot to ask about.'

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions. You want me to explain what's been going on?"

Russia nods. America traces small circles on his chest.

"Well, the symbol on the knife is the same as the one the cameras that Dixie found. We think they're calling themselves 'The Revolution'. We don't really know what they're doing or why, but there are several suspicious locations that just disappeared from public use. If you ask me, that's where they're building bases. I'm sure that there is more than just one place here."

America trails off and sighs.

"We're thinking that, with the organization and the uniforms, that The Revolution is some kind of army. Maybe a militia or something. We were under the impression that the government might be involved with how tight-lipped they've been. Now, with what my boss has said, I know that they're involved."

'Oh no. The American military? Is it involved?' that thought is terrifying for Russia.

"But they ain't telling me anything," America says, "not even through York."

America is interrupted by a shrill ring of a phone. Finland answers.

"FINLAND! Is that you?!" Sweden's voice rings out, and the rest of what he says sounds muffled.

Finland chuckles.

"Yes, it's really me. I'm okay."

Russia feels his heart sink and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Finland continues her conversation, but Russia tunes it out.

'I want to talk to my family. To tell my father that I'm okay. To tell my siblings that I'm okay.'

"Russ, are you okay?" America asks.

Russia nods. His eyes burn, and he feels tears begin to build up in the corners. He wished he could just wipe them away.

'Why is this so hard?'

'I miss my family. They might not like me, but I miss them.'

He sinks into his own thought, and with a stop to switch driver and navigator, they continue through the dark.

Then the thoughts of being stuck on the run and the realization that he's stuck in a country he didn't live in, on the run from a group with government involvement, sink in. It feels real, and his mouth goes dry.

Then he registers America started shaking. He looks down and sees America breathing fast. America's panic soaks into the air around him.

Russia tries to open his mouth to comfort him. To say something, anything. Not a sound came out.

He closes his mouth, feeling helpless. America begins to hyperventilate, and Russia can feel cold spots grow on his shirt.

'Tears'

America hugs Russia's torso tightly, trembling. Russia, through a trial of will, moves one of his hands up America's back. America whimpers.

Russia forces his sore, shaking fingers to trace small circles between America's shoulder blades. America buries his face into Russia's shoulder.

"I'm so scared," America mutters into Russia's neck, "I want to protect my kids. Now, I don't know if I can. What am I going to do?"

Russia tightens his grip.

"What am I going to do?" America whines in a quaking voice.

'You're not alone. I'll help you. I'm here.'

"They're my kids, and now we're all being fucking hunted."

America begins to sob, hiccuping. America tries to muffle it, covering his mouth with his hand. Russia's heart clenches.

"Dad?" Texas calls from the front seat.

America quiets but doesn't say anything.

"We'll make it through," Texas says, "and we ain't asking you to take care of anything. while you're still hurt."

America hums quietly. Texas sighs.

"Just hang in there. We'll make it through, and I'll help you take care of whoever is behind this, I promise. And I'm sure Dixie and Russia will too," Texas says.

Then there is a heavy silence before Texas turns on the radio. He tunes it to some country music being broadcast nearby. The music has a static quality. Texas turns the volume down and quietly hums along.

The quiet background noise helped fill the void around him.

America hugs Russia tightly.

'We will make it through. I'll make sure of it.'

America's breath is shaky, and Russia feels more tears land on his chest.

"I'm terrified that someone is going to get hurt, and I won't be able to stop it," America mutters into Russia's ear.

'It's not all on you.'

"God, this is all my fault."

'No, it's not. Why would you think that?'

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

'I'm here because I want to be.'

"And I can't do d*** near anything with this stupid stab wound. And I know someone is going to get hurt... and I can't protect any of them."

'They can protect themselves. You're going to make yourself sick with worry.'

America weeps into Russia's shoulder. Russia feels his heart crack.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Russia feels his heart shatter. These apologies continue, but what he's apologizing for, Russia doesn't know.

He had never wanted to speak more. Words stick in his throat.

'It's okay,' he wanted to say.

'I'm here.'

'You're okay.'

'The states are okay.'

'We'll make it through.'

But he can't say a word. He tries, but all he can do is open his mouth. He closes his eyes and hugs America as tight as his arms can manage.

"I'm so sorry," America mumbles.

'Don't be. This isn't your fault.'

"...sorry," America whispers. America slumps down on Russia's chest over his heart, and his shaking slows.

America drifts off, tear stains streaking his face. Russia feels the lump in his throat grow.

After a while in the quiet, listening to static-y music, Texas speaks up.

"I hope you can help him," Texas says quietly, turning down the radio, "you... Russ, you weaseled your way into this family, and I think you've found your place alongside Dad... please, he's strong, but... he needs help. He doesn't like relying on us states for that, says he doesn't want to 'bother' us."

Texas sighs. "Sometimes, I wish he would," he mumbles.

"He worries us," New Mexico adds, "We love him more than anything, but when we try to help him, he pushes us away. Won't tell us nothing. And talking with Dixie and Nada, he ain't telling them anything either."

The states trail off. After a few moments, Texas turns the radio up again, a little louder than it had been before, and continues humming alone, driving into the night.

Russia looks back down at his chest.

'Let me help you. Please.'

America looks so relaxed there, but Russia feels his breath catch at the numerous tear trails that stain his face.

Russia looks away and stares out the window at the stars, looking for answers in the vast, dark skies.

~

Next

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Table of Contents

[dastardlydandelion]

e is for escape

 ao3 link 

content warnings: implied abuse, mild blood

Susan doesn’t remember leaving the house.

She doesn’t even realize she’s been walking along the road until she’s caught in blinding headlights. She gasps and she needs to run, she needs to pitch herself out of its path, but instead she freezes like a doe. Tires screech as the driver slams the brakes and the car makes an abrupt stop. Susan releases a rush of breath, gaping down at the hood close enough to rest her hand upon, the hood that her entire body perhaps, would’ve expired upon.

“Are you alright!?”

The driver practically flings herself out of the seat and Susan recognizes her as Joyce from the general store. She doesn’t close the door behind her and hurries to Susan’s side, dragonfly eyes wide. Susan blinks rapidly, wetting her lips with her tongue and crinkling her nose at the unpleasant flavor she finds. She swallows instead of spits, lest she appear rude.

“Oh my, I must’ve interrupted date night,” Susan realizes as she studies the smaller woman’s appearance, dressed in a deep emerald cocktail dress, dark hair crimped. “I apologize…you, um, you look lovely.”

Joyce steps back from Susan, mouth agape as she too, studies her. Susan shuffles awkwardly and hugs her arms around her middle. When she glances down and takes stock of herself, she supposes she can’t blame the other woman for staring.

“Goodness, you must think I’m a mad woman,” she mutters critically.

What was she thinking leaving the house?

She isn’t even dressed. She’s clad in her bedclothes, pink bunny slippers on her feet, cotton nightgown under her somewhat ratty blue terrycloth bathrobe.

“Are you hurt?” Joyce asks and the severe set to her gaze makes Susan suddenly, incredibly uncomfortable.

“Uh.” Susan takes stock of herself. Her throat is sore. Not like the prickly itch when a cold’s coming on, but the dull throb that lingers when Neil squeezes so tight sometimes she fears she’ll die. She feels inclined to rub it, but she can’t, of course, not in front of Joyce.

“Are you bleeding?”

“Bleeding,” Susan repeats, unfolding her arms. She warily touches one of many tacky splotches drying in the terrycloth and quickly draws back, shaking her hand like she can rid her fingertip of the eerie feeling it gave her. “No, I…I was cooking. This must be s-sauce. I didn’t quite realize what a mess I made.”

Joyce takes another step back and swallows, exhaling slowly. She seems mildly disturbed and Susan twinges with embarrassment. Of course the poor woman is disturbed. She almost ran over a bedraggled bunny slippers stranger sautéed in marinara splashes. Well, near stranger, anyway.

“You know me,” Susan hums, hoping the reminder might soothe her nerves. “Well, n-not— you know my daughter better. Max is friends with Will? The kids always play at your place. She’s— you’ve had her over for dinner.”

“That I have. Mrs. Hargrove, where is Max now?”

“Please call me Susan.” She gives a short little wave with her hand, notices a thin cut across her palm. That’s odd. It makes her even more uncomfortable with this whole nebulous situation. “Uh, Max is at the m-movies. There was something she wanted to see— one of those, um, slash ‘em ups, I don’t understand her taste. But I knew she wanted to see it, so um, I told my stepson to take her. He’s old enough to chaperone her to the R-rated ones and…”

Susan trails off, blinking rapidly. It’s the strangest thing. But early evening feels so far away now, as if it’d been another lifetime rather than a few hours ago.

“I thought if they were going to go out, they might as well make the most of it. So I gave them enough money for a double feature…and he listened to me. It’s funny, really, Billy hardly ever listens to me. But tonight he did.”

“I have a teenager too, I understand.” Joyce cracks a smile but it’s a nervous thing, quivering uncertainly on her lips. “Everything goes in one ear and out the other.”

“Mm.” Susan bobs her head although she suspects it isn’t exactly the same. It’s probably different. Tonight she feels very different.

“Why don’t we get in the car? I can give you a ride.”

Susan’s first instinct is to refuse. Joyce rests a subtly shivering hand upon her sauce stained wrist and something in Susan stills. She rests her eyes upon the other woman’s gnawed fingernails and slowly bobs her head.

She follows her to the Ford. Opens the passenger’s door and swallows at the sight of her own fingernails. They’re also chewed. Except for the pinky nail. The pinky nail isn’t there at all. Only raw, wet grapefruit flesh weeping up at Susan where a nail is supposed to be. It hurts. Susan’s only just noticed how much it hurts, stinging something awful against the assault of cool air against unprotected meat.

She isn’t sure how it’s possible only to notice now that she’s hurt. Only to feel herself hurt as she sinks into the seat. Pain isn’t the only thing Susan feels. She feels an object poking into her thigh. She buckles her seatbelt and feels something thin and hard in her bathrobe pocket.

Joyce starts the engine. Susan can feel the other woman looking at her and schools her face into a mask of calmness. Plasters a smile over the confusion cresting in her chest and anxiety swirling in her stomach as she slides her hand into the pocket.

“So your kids are out,” Joyce prompts, circling back to the children. She seems very concerned about the children.

Susan traces the shape of knife in her pocket, heart hammering as her own concern grows. They’re fine. She knows they’re fine because Billy listened to her. She doesn’t understand why Billy listened to her. Why Billy listened to her tonight of all nights.

“They are. I don’t think they would’ve went home yet. Billy stays out all the time and I gave them enough for a double feature.”

“That’s nice,” Joyce says as she drives onward, trees blurring beyond the windows. “Do you mind if I ask what you were doing out here? On the road?”

Susan doesn’t recall, exactly. She doesn’t remember what happened. How she got from Cherry Lane to the part of the main road where there are no street lights. Why she’d leave home in her sauce-sullied pajamas, her admittedly childish but nonetheless comfortable bunny slippers. Her stomach clenches like a fist as she simultaneously clenches her hand around the knife handle.

“I don’t think you like me very much,” she breathes.

“Pardon?” Joyce raises a brow and she doesn’t look offended like Susan expects— she looks alarmed.

Susan shakes her head, harboring no ill will. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t expect you to. I’m sure you’ve heard what our neighbors say. Hawkins is a fishbowl and Neil is a friendly fellow, you know, helping the neighbors fix their cars, or move furniture, chatting away about sports games. T-Telling everyone what a useless heifer I am, I’m sure…”

“…to be perfectly honest with you, Susan, I’ve never liked your husband.” Joyce meets her eye, mouth twisting into a rictus as Susan licks an unpleasant metallic taste from her own lips for the second time tonight. “Neil is always friendly at the store. He smiles and greets me, occasionally even compliments me without ever being inappropriate. Sometimes he helps elderly shoppers with their bags. Max never speaks badly of him when she comes over with the other kids, but there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way.”

Susan throws her head back and she means to laugh but the sound that escapes her throat is far closer to a sob.

“I don’t remember running from my house in my pajamas,” she admits, and although she doesn’t remember doing it, she knows she did indeed run. She did not walk, she did not slink, she ran. “But I've just remembered why I left.”

“Yes?”

Susan looks over Joyce again, positively exquisite in her fine dress, soft crimped hair Susan sort of wants to run her fingers through. Such a contrast to her own disheveled appearance, hair in tangles, cut on her hand, torn away pinky nail, sweaty, wrinkly bedclothes stained with—

“I left to get rid of this,” she announces, pulling the knife out of her bathrobe pocket and holding it out in front of her, sharp tip pointing upward, smears baleful and accusatory. “Please don’t tell.”