#So in lieu of the stuff I actually wanna work on

[wizardandgalaxy]

Dumb Connection That Was Probably a Coincidence, Let's Go

"You're not coming from a place of intellectual honesty, so debating you would be pointless!"

"But that man doesn't care about anything but his need to be the hero in his own delusion."

(Plus a bonus, perhaps more serious parallel I found while getting these pictures:)

[literaila]

"i don''t wanna get you sick"

from either reader or peter (sorry if you've already written a fic like this)

where’d you get your medical degree

tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings: the ask says it all.

a/n: in lieu of sick season. and because of many illnesses (such as writers block, and insanity) which are preventing me from writing anything serious

*

“no,” you whine, pushing him away. “don’t touch me.”

peter is looking down at you with an incredulous look on his face. his hair is loose and his eyes are close, and he’s unbelievably pretty. like you have to blink a few times, just to make him appear normal—and a little less blurry.

you think he’s smiling too, but you can’t really see it. you might be dreaming.

“is there any particular reason why not, bub?”

his hands near you again, cold fingertips on your jaw, around your head. you groan and move your face away from them—even though it feels wonderful.

“i don’t know where those hands have been.”

peter snorts. “trust me,” he says, tilting your head back to him, “you do.”

your stomach turns, and suddenly his hands are a saving grace, so you grab both, holding them to your cheeks.

“change your mind?”

“cold,” you sigh, leaning as close as you can get to him.

“you’re burning, love, and not the elvis kind.”

you shake your head, eyes closed. “not funny,” you mutter.

“can you look at me real quick?”

you moan and close your eyes even tighter. “i’m tired, peter. come back when we’re open.”

“just let me see those pretty eyes and then you can sleep. i’ll even get you some comfier clothes. and some water.”

you move your legs around, feeling the stiff polymer pants you wore today, assuming that you wouldn’t be halfway to death by 3pm.

“how bout some ice cream?” you ask, opening one eye.

it is not lost on you that peter is trying to flirt with you. or that he’s frowning.

“your pupils are big,” he says, concisely. “did you get drugged?”

you giggle, moving away from him, his fingertips suddenly ticklish. “yes, from my computer,” you grin at him, closing your eyes again. “at my office job.”

“okay, stoner, what medicine did you take?”

you frown. “none.”

peter is frowning back. you can feel it. but you’re not going to open your eyes, just in case he’s suddenly brushed his hair or something. put on mascara. who knows what lengths peter would go to surprise you.

“wait,” you hold a finger up. “whatever’s in my bag, i think. i took it at work.”

peter sighs, patting your leg before he moves about the room, looking for a purse you must have lost.

you actually can’t really remember how you got home in the first place.

“if your fever gets any worse, we’re going to the doctor.” peter says this from across the room, and you’re pretty sure he’s not even talking to you. “here. this is just acetaminophen. how long ago?”

your face is pushed into the pillow beside you. it smells like peter, so you keep it there.

“loopy, can you just answer this one question?”

“the pillow is speaking to me.”

peter puts a hand on your back. “i am so sure you’re on drugs,” he says, almost adoringly. “the pillow is telling you that you need to clean up. trust me, we’re close. let’s get you into pajamas and then i’ll find you some stuff.”

you don’t move. maybe you didn’t hear him.

“bub,” he says, a bit louder, sterner. “c’mon, it’ll only take a sec.”

“not moving.” your voice is muffled. “ever.”

“how am i supposed to kiss you, then?”

you turn and peek out at him, lip curling at the mention. and then you cough. “you cant kiss me. i’m sick.”

“it’s disappointing that you think that would deter me.”

“if you’re sick how are you supposed to take care of me?”

“i’ll always take care of my baby,” he swears, leaning into you. if you were of right mind you might realize he wants a kiss. you might realize what you want.

but you only nod approvingly, and then smush your face back into his pillow.

peter groans. his hand moves to the back of your head, and he massages your scalp for a moment. “i know those clothes aren’t comfortable,” he pulls at your tight blouse, the one you wear when you want to feel good about yourself and you don’t mind neglecting to breathe. “even though it looks good on you. you’re sweating through it.”

your muffled voice returns: “do i smell?”

it’s a miracle that peter can understand anything you’re saying. “just like you,” he sniffs, “and maybe a bit like coffee? did you spill something on yourself?”

you don’t move. just hum into the pillow, hacking up a lung into it.

peter shakes his head. “i’m gonna need to wash that. up, baby. a shower would help your sinuses, but we’ll change if you’re tired.”

“baby,” you giggle to yourself.

“yes, baby, because you have de-aged significantly in the past hour. do i have to carry you to the closet?” his voice is teasing, but you’re not really sure that you can hear anything.

you finally turn, sitting up so you can look at peter. “am i being difficult?” you ask him, worriedly. your skin has shifted colors, and your voice is more like rock on rock. but you still frown at peter. “i’m sorry. you don’t have to do anything. i can change.”

but as you say it you double over in a coughing fit, and while you can feel peters hand on your back, you’re almost worried he’s already left.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers when you’re silent again, swallowing. “i like taking care of you. though, i’m not loving that cough. do you need some water?”

you look at him, checking his eyes for something that you’d never be able to recognize in this state. and finally you nod, silent.

peter kisses your forehead and leaves for the kitchen.

you sit there, trying to keep your back perfectly straight. even through the overwhelming urge to lay back down in the bed and suffocate in the blankets.

you really just want to smell that pillow some more.

your head is pounding, and you try to remember if you even took that medicine in the first place. how long you’ve been sitting there. if peter even took your temperature in the first place.

but peter is back before you figure it out. “here,” he hands you a glass of water, watching you with narrowed eyes. “drink all of it.”

“i’m not thirsty.”

he glares at you and you smile, sipping on the water.

he smiles back, sitting down next to you and feeling all over your face with his hands. “what’s the status report?”

“still sick, but my mental capacity is coming back.”

“oh good,” peter says, leaning back but not letting go of you. “i was worried when you didn’t laugh at my elvis joke.”

you snort and lean right back into him, your head against his chest. he smells a lot better than cheap cotton.

“sorry ‘bout your pillow,” you cough out, leaning away from him suddenly so you don’t spit in his face.

“it’s fine. i enjoy a little snot with my sleep.”

“gross, peter.”

he grins down at you, kissing the top of your head again, because he is beyond adorable. then he sombers, still staring, carefully evaluating you. “do you want some more medicine? i think we’ve got some cold stuff in the cupboard.”

“the sleepy kind?”

“probably. take some of that. do you want to shower?”

“not really,” you say, letting him hold your head up. “i’m a little dizzy.”

peter frowns at you. “i’d make sure you don’t fall,” he offers.

“that’s okay,” and then you, once again, hack up some mucus in front of his face and sigh pathetically into your own hands.

“how about some tea? for your throat?” his hand moves yours away, brushing the hair out of your face.

“peter, it’s okay.”

you kiss his hand and push it away.

“the teas okay?” he frowns. “as in yes?”

“i’m okay,” you repeat, shaking your head at him. “you don’t have to do anything else. i’m fine.”

“you’re sick,” he corrects.

“i’m a big girl. i just need a nap. i’m probably not even sick.”

you emphasizes this point by choking down a cough, making your eyes water.

peter raises a brow.

you smile, tightly. “i’m just gonna go change now—“ you stand up, and then fall back down. your head spins as you feel peters hands wrap around your waist, his lips pressed against the side of your temple.

“just let me help,” he whispers, into you. “i’m not busy.”

“you had a long day.”

“i just want to cuddle with you anyway. i can take a few extra steps—like making you tea and getting you medicine.”

you shake your head. “i can do it.”

“i miss high you,” peter sighs. “c’mon, bub, stop being stubborn.”

you frown. “you’re the stubborn one. go swing and save someone else,” you tell him. “i just need a nap.”

“then i’m napping with you.”

you tilt your head back, groaning, and regretting it immediately when there’s a sharp stab in the front of your eyes.

peter kisses your now exposed neck, moving his hand so it keeps your head still. “you probably need to go to the doctor.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

peter scoffs. “you’ve got a fever of 103 degrees. i’m not dramatic.”

“i think i missed the era where you got your medical degree.”

peter scowls at you, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and making sure you can see his conviction to never ever let this go. “it’s called webmd. it’s a wonderful place.”

“peter,” you whine, trying to push him away.

“baby,” he whines back, but smiles as he picks you up, like a literal baby, making sure not to jostle your head. “pajamas. what do you want to wear? and what’s the verdict on the tea?”

you sigh and lean your head into his neck. you don’t appreciate this, but it’s hurting to keep your eyes open. you cough into him, muffling yourself from the world. “can i wear your shirt?” you say, softly.

peter smiles like he’s won the lottery. you can feel it against your head. “yup,” he pops, “but it’ll cost you.”

“what?” you ask, sniffling.

“a kiss.”

he pecks your cheek, then your nose, and carries you away.

*

[munson-blurbs]

For your 2k celebration: Eddie/Lover's Lake/book 🌼

Big, gigantic thanks to @trashmouth-richie for helping me with this one!

Warnings: attempted drug deal, mention of drug use

WC: 899

--

Mud squelches under your trainers as you make your way towards the lake. It’s a familiar destination; your favorite place to write. But today, you have other plans.

Eddie’s already there, waiting for you. He’s sitting on a stone wall, idly tapping his ringed fingers against his tin box. Your stomach flip-flops at the thought of what’s inside. 

Come on. Don’t be such a coward. 

“Um, h-hi,” you stutter, mentally kicking yourself for letting your anxiety seep into your voice. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“Yeah, no sweat,” Eddie says, patting the empty spot beside him and popping open the box lid. You oblige, bringing your backpack onto your lap. “All right, I can do $15 for half an ounce.” He takes out a crinkled plastic baggie, frowning as you inspect it critically. “I really can’t go any lower; you’re already robbing me blind here.”

“No, no,” you shake your head, “‘s not that. Um, I was wondering if you had any, like, magic mushrooms?” Your face burns as you say it. 

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Never took you for a psychedelics kinda girl,” he laughs incredulously, “but, yeah, I should have some.” He digs through his stash, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. “So, what’s the occasion?”

“Huh?”

“The shrooms. You going to a party, or…”

“Oh.” You wipe your palms on your jeans. “I, um, I’ve been having bad writer’s block, and I heard that drugs can help…unblock things? I smoked weed with my friend, but it didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie asks, not breaking his focus. “What are you trying to write? Essays and school shit?”

You shake your head. “I’m working on a novel, actually,” you admit. It sounds silly when you say it aloud. “It’s like a horror-mystery hybrid? I don’t know,” you finish lamely, hoping he finds the shrooms soon.

But you’ve captured his attention, and his chocolate brown eyes light up as they meet yours. “No way!” he exclaims. “I love scary stories. I swear, I’ve read everything Stephen King’s written.” He crosses his heart for emphasis. “Can I get a sneak peek of your book?” He pouts adorably, melting your heart and easing your nerves.

“It’s just some chapter outlines so far,” you explain, tugging your notebook out of your backpack. It’s an assuming marble composition notebook, but it holds all of your hard work. “And I haven’t written anything in weeks, hence the…” you gesture to his lunchbox of drugs in lieu of completing the sentence.

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he scans your writing. “This is…really fucking good,” he muses, flipping the page and continuing to read. “How do you come up with this stuff? Puts my Hellfire campaigns to shame.”

You laugh bashfully. “Sometimes, inspiration just strikes, y’know?” Your smile falters when he skips to the rough sketches you have for your characters. You’re not an artist, not by a long shot, but you know he’ll be able to recognize who you’ve modeled a protagonist after. “Okay, give it back,” you blurt out, attempting to grab it from his hands, but his grip is too tight.

“What, you got some naughty drawings in here?” He waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle despite your embarrassment. “Don’t worry; I won’t judge.” Before you can protest further, he finds the one picture you were hoping he’d somehow skip over. It’s a tall, lanky guy with curly brown hair that touches his shoulders. He’s wearing a concert t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, displaying his tattoos, and ripped black jeans. “Whoa,” Eddie breathes, and you’re praying to be swallowed up by a black hole. “This dude is totally metal.”

“Wh-What?” Did he really not know who it was supposed to be?

“The guy,” he says, pointing to the drawing, “he looks so badass.” He closes the notebook but doesn’t hand it back. “Could I hang onto this? I wanna read more, but I gotta get going. Promised my uncle I’d make dinner tonight, and he’ll kill me if I say that and then order pizza one more time. Actually,” he pauses, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “do you wanna help me cook? And stay for dinner, obviously. You could maybe tell me more about your story. Might help get those creative juices flowing or something.” He shrugs like he didn’t just use all of his courage to ask you.

“Sure,” you smile, hopping down from the wall and brushing off your pants. “And you can tell me about your…campaigns?” You furrow your brows, unsure if you used the correct terminology.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “I don’t know…how can I trust that you’re not working as an enemy spy?”

You gasp, startling him. “Sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “but that just gave me a great idea. Maybe Kal–that’s the totally metal dude–used to be allegiant to the enemy, but is trying to redeem himself!” You pluck the notebook from him, flip to where a pen serves as a bookmark, and jot down your thought before you forget it.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Eddie teases, taking the book back and tucking it under his arm for safekeeping. “You’d better mention me in the acknowledgments. Better yet–dedicate the whole book to me.”

“I can see it now: ‘For Eddie Munson: thanks for the idea and for not selling me shrooms,’” you joke back, walking in tandem with him.

“Perfect.”

--

[n7punk]

the issue you have with "😶‍🌫️" (head in clouds) on ao3 is bc of fonts. the emoji is a combined character made of "😶" (face without mouth) and "🌫️" (fog emoji), but the font ao3 is using doesn't have that emoji, so it defaults to rendering the two parts separately instead. the specific font being used can depend on what browser/device you're using and what site skins you have enabled, so it might show correctly for some people but not for others. you can set your work to use a specific font by using a work skin, but that will only work for people who have those enabled, and won't apply to downloaded copies of your work

huh. okay. i didnt know that it was even possible for emojis to be "combinations". okay so the context here is im using emojis in lieu of profile images to distinguish who is speaking in a groupchat (and yall, dont expect an update soon, its possible i blitz through stuff one night but packing is fucking exhausting and after working six hours i collapse on the floor and Then have to pack in addition to that........ ugh anyway)

okay so im kind of attached to the smokeshow "icon". i guess the question is would it be confusing for yall for there to be two emotes on the default site skin? it doesn't matter if what i'm attached to doesn't actually exist on ao3 lmao. i've honestly been having enough trouble formatting this section to the point where i considered cutting it, but like, idk i like it lmao. short preview of what it roughly looks like (emojis not final) under the cut if you wanna 100% avoid spoilers

also the italics aren't final. ive been using them throughout the fic when there's a single line for a text so i have them here for consistency, but in a larger block of text i always try to avoid italics since they're hard to read, so i'm torn

(and i promise Troy makes sense in context)

[meet-me-in-the-pouringrain]

The Phoenix And The Rocket

Chapter 5 / 8-ish

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Emily Prentiss, at the insistent of her therapist, signs up for a Trauma ‘dumping’ site. She never expected that her Dump would connect her back to her old boss and the man she’s been in love with for over ten years.

Also the man she’s absolutely furious at for leaving

We’re moving spectacularly fast yall, i’m the one writing and i’m like 🫣 slow down guys

Edit : Since publishing I have been made aware that the term ‘Trauma Bonding’ is actually an abuse tactic and doesn’t mean ‘bonding over shared trauma’. Would like to make it clear that was a very strong mistake on my part and I apologise deeply for any offence.

Read below the cut

She's not surprised when Dave walks in her office when the case ends and they're home five days later, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other. She manages a smile at him as he shuts the door and sits up to pluck the bottle up.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Dave asks, teasing but Emily can detect the concern. "Who the guy is?" After her outburst at the precinct, he knew there was more to the story.

After the thing with Mendoza ended badly, Dave was Emily's sounding board. He was there for her in lieu of any of the girls as a drinking buddy, an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on.

Emily didn't have a father growing up, he ran out the second he could, and Dave has worked his way in, settling in her heart and filling that hole in her life. It's not a secret they have a relationship further beyond colleagues. He's her father figure in all walks of life and she's his daughter.

His favourite child out of all of them, if you will.

The concern he's showing her now is that of a father panicking about his daughter not of a colleague probing into another's love life.

She's told her girls, and they've most likely already relayed the information to Garcia so eventually the correct story is going to go around so she may as well confess her sins now.

Emily sighs and swigs the drink to hold of her reply. "I don't know" She admits finally. Seeing his confused expression, she looks down, fiddling with her glass. "It's an anonymous website" She tells him. "It's called TraumaBuddi-"

"TraumaBuddies" Dave finishes off, nodding. "Heard of it, it's where you unload all your shit right?"

"Yeah" Emily laughs slightly at his words. "Yeah it is. Some of the stuff on there is heavy" She breathes, shaking her head. "But uh. Yeah this guys story was intriguing so" She shrugs and finishes her first glass quickly, just after he took two sips of his own.

"So what is it?" The man asks, intrigued.

Emily pauses, wondering not for the first time if by telling a story that wasn't hers to tell would be betrayal. Dave seems to read her mind, for he nods and backs off.

But Emily decides to tell him everything that Rocket has told her. She can't hold it in any longer, and almost vows that she'll send Rocket an apology once Dave leaves.

She tells him all the details of his story but leaves out anything else. Dave gets told that Rocket's wife was killed by a serial killer but not that Rocket got a piercing on his ear when he was 15 and dared to by the girl who later became his wife. He gets told that Rocket had been stabbed more than 5 times but not that his favourite hobby is fishing because of the way his son laughed when the Bass he caught fought back. He gets told about how Emily talked him through the multiple identity crisis but not that Rocket's favourite movie is Interstellar.

"Wow" Dave laughs when she finishes. Emily is breathless by the time she spews all that out. There is more sneaky glinting in his eye that makes Emily want to scream. "Two serial killers, a car bomb, losing the love of his life?" He shakes his head and drains the rest of his whisky. "If I didn't know any better I'd say this 'Trauma Buddy' was Hotch" He says before standing and disposing of his glass.

Emily freezes mid pouring. His words echoed around her. "Hotch?" She laughs though it was shaky. Dave just looks at her suspiciously. "That's impossible" She shakes her head, resuming her task of pouring a healthy dose.

"Why?"

Another shake of her head and pathetic laughter. "Because it is, Dave" She insists through gritted teeth. A fume of anger sparks in her chest that she doesn't think is fair but also doesn't attempt to push away.

"Okay" The old man shrugs. "Don't drink any more of that bottle, Bella" He warns like a father on his way out of the office. "You drive here."

"Relax, dad" Emily grumbles. "I took a cab" He doesn't hear her as he exits the office otherwise he'd have been forcing her in his car.

Emily sat alone, making no move to follow him, and drank a further two glasses. Dave's words made her lose herself in thought.

It can't be, right?

It was an hour later when the cleaners showed up and the lights shut off that Emily got moving. One of the janitors flashes her a friendly smile, too many late nights in the office was the cause of that, as she leaves. Her hands itched towards her phone as she waits for her cab.

A serial killer who got his Ex-Wife.

Foyet and Haley.

A Car Bomb that made his hearing go fuzzy.

NYC and Kate.

Another serial killer targeting his son.

Scratch and Jack.

Rocket checks all the major boxes.

Emily curses loudly and angrily upon entering her house. She throws her satchel forcefully, stomping towards her laptop. She wonders how in the hell she missed it? Is she that stupid? What kind of profiler is she to not read through the subtext. She slams her fingers on the keyboard, logging into that stupid website and immediately going to Rocket's page.

With every new sentence she grows more angry and resentful until one made her pause.

"After my wife died, I moved on. But just two years later, I experienced the same heartbreak again when I lost the woman who I had grown to love. She didn't know that, of course, when she left but I lost her all the same. She came back briefly for around 7 months but decided to leave again.

In the span of a year I lost the love of my life twice.

In the span of three I had lost two."

It couldn't have been Hotch.

Emily would've have known - Garcia would have blabbed the second it happened - if something that detrimental happened while she was away. In Paris or London. It couldn't have happened while she was here and she just didn't know about it.

It couldn't have been Hotch.

With a sigh of relief, Emily begins typing out a new message.

PhoenixPren : Hey Rocket! I see you haven't replied to my last message is everything okay?

She starts moving around, not one to wait for a reply, when her laptop pings almost instantly.

RockyRackoon : Hello. Sorry for not replying sooner, Max and I are moving house and it's been hectic. How are you, Phoenix?

She smiles, ignoring the warm feeling in her chest, and shrugs as if her partner can see her.

PhoenixPren : Max? Is that your son?

She types and deletes that message a few times before ultimately sending it.

PhoenixPren : And I'm okay.Ish. We have a rough case at work

RockyRacoon : Oof makes me glad i'm retired.

RockyRacoon : And yes, He's my son. He's 16 nearly, we're moving closer to his maternal aunt.

Emily grins at the personal details Rocket shared.  Then her smile wavered. Jack Hotchner would be 16 and Jess still lives around here, somewhere, JJ saw her in a grocery store a few months back.

His name is Max, Emily.

She couldn't tell whether she was happy or disappointed at that.

Mid typing out a polite congratulations / good luck reply, Sergio suddenly shoots out of her workspace making papers fly everywhere.

"Sergio!" She scolds, exasperated. "What is up with you lately?" She shakes her head, putting a hand on her beating chest. She ignores the pest as he mewls for her attention, dropping to her knees to pick up the papers. Emily can't even tell you what half of them are and spends a while just reading over them with furrowed brows.

Until she gets to a paper that only she has and that she should have destroyed.

A letter of resignation, another of recommendation followed by two fake IDs.

Aaron and Jack.

Frank and Max.

Emily buckles, falling to sit awkwardly on her hip as she gasps. No fucking way. She scans each ID thoroughly, lingering on Jack's - Max's - for far too long.

Well now she was fucked.

A ping on her laptop made her whirl around.

RocketRacoon : Actually, Max's aunt lives in Alexandria, Virginia. Isn't that your neck of the woods?

She could scream.

With shaky hands, she types slowly.

PhoenixPren : Yeah. I'm in Dupont Circle.

RocketRaccoon : Oh, only 20 minutes away.

Emily is still on her knees on the floor, using her couch as a table.

Don't do it. Please don't ask. If you ask I cannot say no.

RocketRaccoon : This may be a bit forward, But would you like to get coffee? We arrive Friday Morning.

Ah, he did it.

Emily was typing before she could even think. The possibility that it was that man was making her act upon impulse.

PhoenixPren : Given that my team and I aren't on a case, absolutely. I know a great cafè in Alexandria. Rise and Grind.

She recalls, briefly, that R&G was his favourite coffee place but he never could get it because he lived in Quantico, almost an hour out.

RocketRacoon: I know the place. See you there, Phoenix.

PhoenixPren : How will you know it's me?

RocketRaccoon : I'll know.

Aaron stares at the computer, heart beating fast and filled with dread. Jack is next to him on the couch, waving his broken arm around like he could magically fix it.

He didn't know what the fuck just overcame him.

Inviting her out for coffee?

Where the fuck did that come from?

He removes the glasses from his face, wiping his hand over it tiredly. He groans lowly, making Jack snicker. The trees rustle harshly, mockingly, in the window making him shoot a glare out.

"Mom thinks you're funny to" Jack muses, smirking at the window. Aaron rolls his eyes and closes his laptop after Phoenix doesn't reply.

"Mom can shut up" He retorts, resisting a smirk of his own when the trees shake harder, as if Haley was yelling at him.  She probably was, if he could delude himself that far.

Jack snorts. "That's you told" He says, switching the channel on the tv. "Told you dating is okay."

Aaron groans again and puts the laptop on the floor in front of him. The coffee table is gone, sold in a yard sale they had two days ago. The rest of the nicknacks and furniture around the room baring the couch has either been sold or packed away. They fly out on Thursday night, the cheapest flight times he could find, with the rest of their stuff meeting them throughout the weekend.

It's taken a lot of effort. Jack is in his sophomore year at school so Aaron has had to deal with admin pulling him out, then actually finding a house that's moderately close to another school, vetting the school and seeing which is best for him but also trying to find a house that's close enough to Jess but far away from any of his old teammates.

And that's hard enough in itself when you haven't had contact with any of them so you don't even know where they are living.

So yeah, moving across the country is a little hectic.

"Jack" He scolds. "It's not a date."

"You've been chatting up a woman-"

"I don't think you can call it chattin-“

"You've been chatting up a woman" Jack repeats as if his father hadn't spoken. He smirks as he remembers the woman's user name but wisely chooses not to comment. There's a reason his dad didn't tell him it was Miss Emily, so he won't push. "Flirting a lot and then you ask her out to coffee? Sounds like a date to me dad"

The trees rustle as if to back up his point.

Aaron rolls his eyes. "No it was a moment of madness fuelled by you and your mother's" He points to the tree. "Meddling tendencies." He stands and puts his laptop away in the bag in top of his suitcase. "It is not a date, I'm merely going to meet and thank this woman for helping me. Now, Are we playing Mario Kart or what?" He asks pointedly.

Jack side eyes the window again as Aaron leaves to find the game in one of the boxes. "I don't think we meddle" He says to the ghost of his mom. "Do we?" The trees shake again and Jack takes it as if she's shaking her head. He carefully watches the doorway. "It is who I think it is right, mom?" He asks softly. "Be still if it is." The child that still lives inside him holds out the imagination that the nature outside really is his mom, still with him.

The trees shake gently a few times before the wind miraculously dies down. Jack breaks into a wide smile as Aaron comes back with the game in hand.

"What?" His father asks suspiciously.

Jack just shakes his head. "Nothin" He replies nonchalantly. The tree backs him up with another shiver, making Aaron roll his eyes and start the game with no other thought cast to his ‘date’.

Word count :2200

tag list : @lonelychicagos @84hotpockets @serqueljisbon @loriprentiss @velvetblackness @castielryan

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[lunarsilkscreen]

Management as a Job

Administrative positions, or management that is on the same level as every other employee, is a thing. They get paid the same, they do the same amount of work, the difference is; their job is to ensure smooth operations of a company. They fill positions, they rate on employees they don't work with (a level towards objectivity), they analyze systems and processes and work with other divisions to identify flaws in those processes.

Literally, management's job.

The things they can't do are job specific. Training employees, organizing workflows, and above that, producing which jobs have greater value or priority to be worked on.

Also management's job. (But Job specific, stuff you need experience in the field to properly identify)

So why do we need people above that?

Let's look at "treasurer" or CFO "Chief financial officer" their job, is to not embezzle the money, and to identify wasteful and non-wasteful spending. The first one is pretty easy I think, the second, however, requires industry experience and communication with the admin responsible for organizing purchases (and inter department communications.)

President or CEO (Chief Executive Officer) this job is to wear all the hats. You need extensive knowledge of all levels of operations to know what's brought to your desk can or cannot be executed.

At these levels however, there's certain tasks you can and cannot give. A president/CEO shouldn't be responsible for firing an individual, because they don't know enough about their day-to-day tasks, but the more broad command "downsize" can be given.

The problem in many cases is the compensation in which to perform the duties. If your goal is to save the company money, you should first identify what the larger economic impact is (are we hemorrhaging money because we really suck at budgeting, or are we being impacted by the broader economy?) In which case, would it be more prudent to take a defensive position and weather the storm, or would it be more prudent to let go of all the experience that knows how to run the day-to-day?

Or, should we cut-costs elsewhere... Perhaps, executive paychecks that could save the company the most money to weather the coming storm?

But if we do that, how can I trust that the treasurer won't just take everything he can get his hands on and run?

That's really what lawyers are for. To penalize people that do that. But small people, we can't afford that protection. That's why companies have legal divisions and people, on average, don't.

Another problem is how we the little guys interpret compensation. An executive might get hundreds of thousands in non-monetary value things. Stocks, Benefits (like health and dental, company car and chauffer, company chef, company paid dinners with the staff, gift cards they get from companies they work with in-lieu of cash)

We only read that the executive gets paid 8 figures. 8 figures in what? Chinese yuan? Corpocoin Digital currency? (Read: stocks without government protections) Delta airlines points?

Most everything in this world is given a monetary value, and the announced worth of a good, is how much a consumer or little guy has to pay for it. And I know, you're thinking "it's stuff that I have to pay out of pocket" and you'd be right. And we should be mad at them for their benefits we don't get.

But in some case, they can't just cut those benefits in a way that actually saves real spending. Perhaps, the company could sell those non-monetary goods on some kind of free-market system that competes with those prices. You know, like doing this thing I heard about called "capitalism".

When the going gets tough you gotta save money somewhere, right? Or, make money by selling things you don't wanna sell, maybe even for less than what they're worth.

I tried that one time, I was told "cash only" and then they were legally allowed to take everything I owned in excess of what I owed.

[corvidexoskeleton]

I have never been more disappointed that I can't remember most of the details of a dream

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Ransom’s Hallmark Moment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut including unprotected sex (imagine that birth control), Ransom's bad attitude and Ransom being soft (what?!)

A/N: written for the Hoelentine's Day Challenge hosted by @chrissquares @amythedvdhoarder and @drabblewithfrannybarnes

My giftee is Heather @hevans-angel and I hope I've been able to fulfill some of your wishes you sweet lady!

So much appreciation for @stargazingfangirl18 and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me and being so supportive and creative! Now, on to the fic!

Aside from the date on the calendar, it feels like a typical Sunday. You got a lot done around the house, allowed yourself some time to relax and baked enough for a small army. Wiping the last of the crumbs away, you proudly look over the pile of treats ready to be given out the next day at work - all sweet and sprinkled and festive in pink and red. Spending the day baking, relaxed and comfortable with old episodes of ‘Bewitched’ on for company is just what you needed before starting another week. Plus, you aren't really alone. There's always Andy.

The wind suddenly blows hard, shaking the windows. You glance outside at the darkened sky, noticing the heavy sheets of snow falling to the ground.

“Shit,” you hiss, making your way to the back door and opening it, “Andy!”

You wait a moment and shout again, “Andy! Come on in!” followed by a series of whistles.

Nothing.

“Oh no, no no please no, not again,” you whine, heading back into the kitchen to find your phone already ringing. You scrunch up your face in a grimace as you answer as sweetly as possible, “Hello?”

“Missing something?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s here of course. If you don’t get here soon, I might call animal control.”

“You always say that, Ransom, but I know you like him. I’ve seen the water bowl and that old tennis ball by the front walkway.”

“That’s from the housekeeper.”

“Mmhmm, sure. You know I’ll be right there. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are, see you soon angel.”

You scoff at the nickname. He’s always using a sweet one on you, while calling your dog something far less endearing like hellhound, or fleabag, or even Cujo. The first time he said that one, you looked over at your Lab/Husky mix, with his ears perked at attention and tongue lolling out from his dopey dog smile and laughed like you hadn’t in a long time.

Ransom was less amused.

For some reason, when you moved to the little cottage house set back into the woods, your dog decided to treat himself to adventures which almost always ended with him in front of the wall of windows at Ransom’s home smearing his nose, and drool and mud all over the panes of glass. 

That first pickup was not encouraging. You’d been out searching and going down the long driveways of your neighbors to search until you found him at Ransom’s, sitting and thumping his tail against the ground and staring at Ransom through the window, who for his part, stood with his arms crossed and scowling down at your dog.

That was the first time he told you to keep him contained or he’d call animal control. 

You gave him your number, begging him to call you instead if it happened again. After a few weeks the promise of calling animal control was more of a joke than a threat.

Half the time you were already on your way over, having noticed the dog had taken off, but the other half, it was a grumpy call from Ransom, complaining about being harassed by some wild beast. Apparently the ability to spin a tale was a family trait.

By the time you got there, Andy would usually be tired out from his little journey and be waiting for you to leash him, allowing you and Ransom to get caught up in conversation. And so began an awkward-sometimes tense-sometimes flirty almost-friendship with the man. You were equal parts grateful and pissed at Andy, because of course he would go out of his furry little way to make an ass of you in front of the most handsome man you’ve seen in real life. Tall, broad-shouldered, stoic and reserved, plus cocky to top it all off - the man was checking boxes left and right.

Weeks later, Ransom was still those things, but also sarcastic, witty, a bit playful and very charming when he was in the mood. You caught the appreciative looks he gave your body when you approached (not that he really tried to hide them), and you allowed yourself moments to linger on his features as well. Your little conversations on his front walkway almost always turned flirty, at least until Andy made his impatient presence known by tugging at the leash or barking to get your attention. 

You pack up some cookies, cupcakes, and truffles you made to make some sort of peace offering, grab the leash, and head out to retrieve your little trouble-maker. The thick, wet flakes are heavy, and make the journey down the wood-lined roads slower than usual.

You pull up, squinting through the falling snow, unable to see Andy in his usual spot. You see Ransom walk through the house and to the door, waving you inside, so you hurry from the car, head ducked down to try to avoid the chill and wedge your way in, shaking away the snow once you feel the warmth inside.

“He’s in my garage,” he tells you in lieu of an actual greeting, moving away as you shake off the snow.

“What? You let him inside?”

“Not inside-inside, but yeah. I know better than to leave a pet out in that. Christ. And you know, I keep telling you, princess if you want to see me, you don’t have to keep sending that mutt over as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure. But what a waste of all that training,” you quip back. It’s almost a routine at this point.

You roll your eyes when he gives you an over exaggerated, proud smile. You immediately want to roll your eyes again because of how good that stupid smile looks on him, too. Your gaze can’t help but travel up and down the length of him, long legs, slim hips that go up to those broad shoulders, all encased in a heavy sweater...with holes torn at the lower hem and at the stomach.

Without thinking, you rush forward to grab the frayed yarn cringing at the idea of needing to replace the expensive garment, “Oh no, did he do this? I know he gets jumpy when he’s excited.”

“No, he didn’t,” he wipes at the front of this stomach. “It’s fine. It’s just like that.”

He can’t even say anything else before you start with more apologizing and rambling, “I am so, so sorry. I swear I only left him out there for a few minutes so he could play in the snow, and he’s been so good. And here,” you thrust the package at him, “I made some food and I hope you have a sweet tooth, and I know it doesn’t make up for the inconvenience and-”

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it slightly and breaking up your word vomit.

“Uh, it-it’s just like some cookies and stuff that I made.”

“What for?”

“For Valentine’s Day. I made a bunch of stuff because at work we’re doing a thing tomorrow, so-”

“No, I mean why are you giving these to me?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought you would need to explain, “Um, neighborly kindness? Gratitude? Because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Huh. Does this make you my Valentine?” He laughs and turns on his heel, walking away toward where you can see is the kitchen area. 

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as the sweet and cuddly Valentine type,” you call after him, hearing him chuckle in response.

You wait in the foyer for what feels like too long, just listening as he moves around, opens and closes cabinets and goes on like you’re not there. You look around uncertain what you’re expected to do since you usually don’t make it past the doorway until you decide to pull off your boots and hang your jacket over a chair set near the door. You follow the path he made into the kitchen.

“Sooo. Like I was trying to say, I don’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, “I will just grab Andy and head on home.”

“You really wanna drive with that going on?” he gestures to the window. When you look, it’s practically a blizzard and your car is covered in a fresh, thick layer already.

“Shit,” you rub at the side of your face, nervous at the idea of navigating the roads, but just as anxious to not irritate the man staring you down from across the counter. “Not really. Where’s Andy? I wanna check on him.”

He points to a door down the hall. “Garage is through there.”

You make your way through the house with your jaw clenched, unsure with what you might find knowing that Ransom’s not exactly a fan of dogs. So opening the door he pointed to and finding your dog curled up on an old tarp with that familiar worn-out tennis ball, a full water bowl, all cozy and warm inside the otherwise empty garage is not what you expected at all. 

Your dog lifts his head, tail thumping against the floor as you approach, but he seems worn out from his romp through the snow, so you let him settle down after making sure he’s alright and head back to Ransom in the living room. A small smile in place of your grimace from a few moments before.

“The garage is heated,” Ransom tells you from his seat on the couch. “Figured he’d be alright in there. Can’t do much damage.”

“That’s...that’s really great.” You’re caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness of it. “Thanks for setting him up. I’ll just wait until it slows down and head back out, don’t want to mess up any plans you had.”

He laughs at that, hard and loud. “No, in fact you and the mutt gave me the perfect out from a family thing.”

“Oh really, don’t let us keep you.”

“Oh no, I’m too busy being a hero during the snowstorm,” he answers dryly, letting silence hang in the air for a few moments afterward. “Drink?” he offers.

“A hero? That’s the excuse you’re giving them?” You try to wave off the drink offer, but then he points back outside. 

“I think we’ve got some time on our hands. And yeah, makes for a great story, doesn’t it?” he chuckles to himself. 

You glance back to the wall of windows, seeing nothing but swirling white and sighing, “Sure, might as well. But just to let you know, Andy might not be thrilled that you’re using him as an excuse.”

He smiles and gets up from the sofa to pour you each a glass, then turns back and holds yours out to you, “I know a girl, I think she might be willing to put in a good word for me.”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin and sit on the sofa when he does.

A little while goes by and despite the somewhat awkward start to the situation, he’s not bad company. Andy is still content with his set-up, nearly ready to tuck in for the night when you check on him again later. When you return, Ransom’s opened the box of goodies, happily making a dent in the whiskey dark chocolate truffles you piled in there.

“So, you’re sure we’re not interrupting anything? No lady or ladies or even gentlemen you planned to entertain?” You ask as you settle back onto the sofa, closer to the center. Ransom had ignited the fireplace while you were up, dimming the lights and letting the orange flames illuminate the space in front of you.

“Will you drop it already? Nothing aside from the usual family obligation to show up, deal with passive aggressive bullshit, then some outright aggressive bullshit, and watching the show when it all implodes. I am happy to let a pretty girl and her big, messy dog give me an excuse to stay home.”

You laugh, trying to brush off the compliment thrown in there, “Hard to believe you want to miss out on all that. Sounds like a real special time.”

“Very special,” he drawls. He wipes some crumbs off his fingers as he shakes his head before adding, “Trust me this is much better.” He tosses his arm over the back of the couch, letting it fall on your shoulders and force you to lean a bit further into him. 

“Yeah,” you mutter as you look down to your feet and fumble a string of syllables of incomplete words as you try to remind yourself to not read too much into what he’s saying.

“Oh, come on.” He picks up the slack in the conversation when you still don’t manage to say anything else for a few moments, leaning into your space as he breaks the silence. “So, I finally have you all to myself and you’re gonna be shy for me?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and heat rising in your cheeks and chest. “What?”

The hand not wrapped over you reaches out and pushes your chin up, closing your mouth which dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise. His thumb slides up to trace at the pout of your lip.

“Please, baby girl. Neither of us is very subtle. I don’t really do romance, but we’ve got a fire going, we’re stuck in a snowstorm, and I’ve been wanting to get you all to myself since that mutt first showed up over here. If that isn’t some panty-soaking Hallmark crap right there, then I don’t know what is.”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh right along with you. The tension has shaken loose and your smile is uncontrollable. It’s ridiculous - the scenario, his words, that he can read you so well, that he isn’t wrong. 

“Hard to believe you don’t have women knocking down your door with all that to offer.”

“Just one woman, and her very stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you start in offense, but still move in when he does, smiling into the kiss. It’s chaste and soft for brief seconds before lips part and your tongues meet. His hands waste no time to pull you closer, tugging you along and making you shift on your knees until he pulls you over him to straddle his lap.

You’re grabbing at everything you can, bunching his thick sweater in your hands, then sliding up and down over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating how solid he feels beneath you. Until finally, you rake your fingers into his hair, ruffling it a bit and then grasping it tightly at the crown to pull his head back, drawing a short moan from his throat.

He tilts back into the pull and you lift yourself up higher on your knees to keep your lips together. When your hands finally let go, allowing him to ease the arch of his neck, you take your time sliding your body down against his torso, pushing your core over the hard bulge in his slacks.

“You gotta ride me, baby.” It sounds like an order, not an option.

Yes. You aren’t sure if you say it out loud, but you feel the air leave your lungs in a rush and your body quivers at just the thought. You don’t care if this is quick, or rushed, or frantic - it’s exactly what you want rightfuckingnow.

His palms rest at the edge of your hip bones, fingers spread and digging into your sides and just slightly pushing and pulling you to get some pressure where you feel that he’s hard.

You reach down, covering his hands with yours and pull them up your sides under your sweater, not so much encouraging as demanding that he move things along. He gets with the program quickly and pushes the sweater up, separating your lips long enough to take it off then pulling you back as quickly as he can. His hands find their own way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work of removing it as well and eagerly touching every inch of bare skin.

When you both start to pant, breaths coming out hard and shaky, he moves his lips to tickle the skin on your cheek, down to your jaw, along the curve there and onto your neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin, nibbling and dragging his teeth when he gets focused on a single sensitive spot that makes you whine out loud. 

Your head hangs down to the side, letting him work his way down the column of skin there and sinking into the loose, ragdoll feeling as your body just gives in to every sensation of pleasure. His arms squeeze you against him while he keeps pushing his hips up and into you, teasing you with hints of pressure where you are starting to feel empty and needy.

“Yes,” you gasp, definitely out loud this time. “Yes,” over and over, every time he does something whether it is with his tongue, or his fingers - his blunt nails digging into the sides of your ribs to hold you tightly in place, or the twist of your hips as he lifts his own up against you.

It’s so much, and you’ve only just lost your shirt. It’s not worth waiting anymore. Your mind is set now to just get what you want.

You push away from him. He slowly comes to, eyes glazed and unfocused, a low mutter of “the fuck” slurred from his lips. Before he can reach for you, you lift off him. Your legs are shaky, but you stand as steadily as you can, undoing the button and zipper and pulling down your jeans and panties in a single push.

He watches for a second, then reaches behind him, gripping the neck of his sweater and hauling it up and over his head. He reveals almost exactly what you were hoping for - solid, defined muscles and smooth skin - but there’s more. Hair across his pecs and in a line down the center of his abs, and freckles dotting everywhere on his fair skin. You want to caress and trace every one, run your fingers along imaginary paths and press against him - but it can wait. It’s got to wait.

Impatiently, you kneel, kicking the legs of your pants away and shuffling forward to reach for his belt. His hands settle at his side, flexing, but letting you do what you seem to be compelled to do. You fling the ends of the belt apart and pull at the button and then the zipper, already salivating at the mingling scent of his cologne and sex.

He straightens his hips, lifting from the couch to allow you to shove his boxers and pants down his legs, his cock pulling with them, then bouncing back up once freed. It throbs, slightly bobbing with a rush of arousal and you can’t help but admire the thickness of it, the swollen head that glistens with smeared pre-come.

Heat burns over your skin, and when you look up at Ransom, he’s clearly feeling the same. His cheeks are flushed in patches of pink, his lips red, swollen, and parted as he lets out short, shaky breaths, hair hanging loose and disheveled. It’s more than you hoped for, and it’s disgusting how perfect he looks. 

As much as you want to tease, to keep this view while you swallow him down and taste him, your pussy throbs. You promise yourself again to take more time with him later, to lick and suck and taste him the way you want, but you can’t resist at least a taste. You grab his shaft, leaning in to swallow him deeply - just once - and draw a shocked moan from him before pulling off and pushing up from your knees, humming at the taste of him.

“Damn, princess. I thought I was going to ruin you, but fuck, you’re good.” He reaches forward as you’re moving up, his hand grabbing at the back of your head to guide you. He pulls a bit at your hair when you’re back up to the couch and spreading your thighs wide over his. His free hand reaches between your legs swirling through your wet, sensitive slit and pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit.

“Later,” he promises, “I’m gonna taste your pussy. Gonna lick it all up.” He pulls his hand away and sucks away your juices as they drip down his fingers. The promise is so dirty it makes your breath shake in anticipation. You stare into each others’ eyes, admiring the wreckage between you and moving without guidance to seat yourself on top. 

You gasp when you finally feel the hot, hard line of him pressed against your pussy. It feels so thick, and you’re eager to feel the stretch of him pushing inside. You lock your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts together, nipples peaking as they drag along the coarse hair on his chest. 

The lips of your pussy spread over his cock, coating him with your slick. His cockhead rubs over your clit, making you shudder and suck in stuttering breath, and that’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Can I have your cock?” Deep down, you know you don’t really need to ask. 

“Yeah,” he adjusts his hips, scooting himself out a little further to give you more room to settle against him. “You’re gonna fucking ride me, princess. Come all over me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, high and airy.

He takes one hand off you, using two fingers to angle his cock toward you. You lift up on your knees, tipping your hips until you feel him against your entrance. You pause for a brief second to ready yourself, then sink down, taking him all in at once.

The stretch makes you groan, the static-like buzzing mix of ache and pleasure spreading all over and making you throw your head back and deepen the moan.

He huffs out a few quick breaths. “That’s it, oh that pussy is so good. So fucking good, princess,” he mumbles.

Then his hands are back on your hips, warm against the bare skin and strong when he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull you further down, “This cock filling you up? Huh?”

All you can manage is another high-pitched, “Uh-huh,” while you start to roll your hips, barely lifting as you shift back and forth to grind against him, your walls still squeezing him tight.

“Come on, let go, baby,” he whispers, his mouth tight against your ear. Your arms loosen their grip around his neck and you place your hands instead on the muscles flexing at the tops of his shoulders. 

You move your knees to get them comfortable and then finally push yourself off him, sliding and gasping as you feel the head of his cock catching just at your entrance again, and after another silent beat, you slide back down, taking his hard length again.

With the space given, he dips his mouth to your breasts, swirling and suckling at your nipples, Harsh, fast sucks followed by quick nips when he catches the hard peaks in between his teeth until you gasp and moan. Only then does he switch it up, his tongue gently rolling over the bud, soothing the stinging ache.

All the while you roll your hips and the burn, the push, the fullness of him inside you is drugging. Your eyes fall closed as you focus on the steadily growing tingle low in your belly.

You start to chase it with slow, dragging strokes, easing up only to drop down and have him bottom out deep inside. It builds fast, making your thighs burn and knees ache as you try to keep your position; one knee has managed to wedge into the corner of the couch and the rhythm needed to build your orgasm conflicts with the concentration needed to keep yourself steady.

“Just take it, babygirl. I got you,” he whispers, feeling your body getting tired on top of him.

He shifts his legs, placing his feet on the ground and pushing up into you, letting you settle on his lap and rock yourself forward and back while his cock stays buried in you. He adjusts his hands to rest just at your tailbone, pressing you steadily against him and giving the pressure needed to your clit when you press against his pubic bone.

Cries start to escape from you, first quiet and breathy, but then building as the air gets pushed out in hard breaths. Your body inches closer and closer to that release, your body hot and burning and there’s a slight moment of too much just before it hits...and then it’s rushing over you - all liquid fire and bliss. You clamp down over him, legs straining over the tight muscles of his thighs.

He pushes up into you, his hands pressing harder at the middle of your back to keep you moving through your release as he works to find his. He hisses through clenched teeth, broken praises coming out on hard breaths.

“Yeah...There...Righthere...God...Fuck.”

When he curls into you, nails digging into your soft skin and breathing heavy against your chest, you know he’s right there.

“Come for me,” you whisper.

“God - yeah!” With one final, hard thrust, he does. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you when he releases, his hips jerking up slightly to keep pushing into you while the tense features of his face soften with relief.

For a moment it’s nothing but panting breaths and the racing beat of your pulse in your ears. Then it’s slow, dragging hands across naked skin and muscle, soothing the tense muscles and tickling sensitive spots and whispering praise to the man beneath you while he hugs you tight to him.

His voice is low and quiet as he asks, “Is the mutt gonna be mad that I stole his Valentine?” 

“You like me,” you smile against his neck and tease him with a sing-song voice, “And you like my dog.”

“I like you,” he agrees. “The dog’s okay, too.”

“Does that mean Andy should come harass you again on Friday night?”

“I’ll even get a dog-sitter.” He says with a smirk. “Let him know that 7 would be good.”

Tags: @jtargaryen18 @ozarkthedog @wi-deangirl77 @angrythingstarlight @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie  @sweeterthanthis @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim 

[hiinnys]

i buried a hatchet (it’s coming up lavender)

(hello! it’s been a minute! sorry, i’ve unfortunately been trapped under work’s capitalist foot!! but how are yall? MAJOR happy birthday to harry james! thank you for being my comfort character <3 anyways, hope you enjoy harry’s little 22nd party, which is also on ao3!) 

the planning starts in may. it’s nearly three months early, but may brings bad memories molly’s always tried to avoid. it’s a simple question about cake flavors pointed at harry and ginny, their birthdays always planned in tandem, but harry freezes nonetheless. it’s nothing anyone would notice, but ginny does because she’s ginny and harry’s always been what she’s good at. so when they’re alone later and she asks about it, he’s not surprised.

“it’s stupid,” he says, shaking his head in that way he does that makes him seem so small ginny’s heart aches.

“harry,” she pushes this one, feels like she has to.  

“it’s just…i’m twenty-two this year, aren’t i?”

“yeah?”

“i’m always gonna be older than them now,” he almost whispers, like it’s a crime to even speak aloud. he sits down on the bed just then. the bed in his flat that he’s been too scared to ask her to share with him. he wonders briefly if his dad was ever as scared to ask his mum something so easy; wonders if his dad ever got the chance to be, or if that was just another thing war took away from him.

“harry,” she sits next to him, body angled towards him so her legs are pushed up against his side. “talk to me.”

it’s a simple request; ginny’s like that, takes only the smallest pieces of him because she thinks everyone else takes too much. he wants to tell her that she can take as much as she wants, it’s all hers anyways, but he doesn’t know how, so he settles for giving her what she’s asked of him.

“it feels…wrong, i guess, to celebrate it,” he sighs, tries to quell the storm in his chest, in his head (doesn’t succeed). “it feels like i’m celebrating their deaths.”

she’s silent for a moment, like she’s thinking it all through, weighing the merits of what he’s said, and he can’t quite express how grateful he is that she gives him this - her respect, her thoughtfulness, her whole self, each and every time.

“i get it,” she finally says. “but you can’t live the rest of your life avoiding your birthday. i think you’ve already missed too many in your parents’ books.”

he knows she’s right, thinks about his years with the dursleys, about how he didn’t even know his birthday until he was five and a teacher at primary told him. he nods his head.

“but-,” he starts.

“just not this one,” she finishes. “yeah, i get it.”

the next time they’re at the burrow, ginny casually mentions that she’s actually surprised harry with a weekend trip for his birthday, seeing as he never takes time off otherwise, and if the family would like, they could do a joint cake at ginny’s birthday dinner.

***

she actually does surprise him with a trip, something that he wasn’t expecting, but she suggests they bring teddy along and harry reckons the kid’s due for a holiday. she doesn’t tell him where they’re going to start, just piles the three of them in harry’s car and tells him to drive (she’s yet to pass her driver’s test, but ginny’s one of the few people who genuinely enjoys the tube so she’s not in any rush).

it’s when they’re less than halfway there that harry realizes she has them set out for shell cottage.

“really? you thought bringing me to your brother’s place would be a nice birthday surprise?”

“first of all, you said yourself we aren’t celebrating your birthday, and, second, bill and fleur aren’t home. they’re in france, so i asked if we could borrow the place for the weekend and they said yes.”

“fair enough.”

***

teddy’s antsy for the water as soon as he sees it, so they only go as far as throwing their stuff in the sitting room before taking him down to the shoreline. he splashes happily through the calm water, and his clothes are soaked to the brim, but his laughter fills the air, so harry lets it be.

“harry!” the five year-old shouts, holding up a distinctly purple piece of coral. “look! pretty!”

“you wanna take it with you?”

“YES!” he screams, eyes wide with glee, and harry can’t help the rush of love for his godson. he exaggerates tucking the coral into his pocket when teddy hands it to him, just to affirm ted’s desire to keep it safe. when he turns around, ginny’s smiling at them from her place on a rock, jeans pushed up to her knees, feet in the water and red hair blowing in the wind, and harry finally feels peace settle into his heart.

***

the rest of the day passes rather quietly. when they finally make it in from the beach, the day catches up with teddy, leaving him exhausted and irate, so harry gives him a quick bath and settles the boy in for a small nap. when he gets back down, ginny’s changed and sits on a bar stool in the kitchen, picking at the last of the snack plate harry had made earlier in lieu of a proper lunch.

“hungry?” harry asks and, at her nod of affirmation, starts looking through the fridge to figure out what dinner can be. they sit in an easy silence for a bit, harry washing and cutting vegetables and ginny watching. over the years, he’s learned she likes to watch him cook, and though the reason for it doesn’t make too much sense to him, he likes having her there, so he’s never questioned it much.

“thank you for this,” he finally says.

“for what?”

“bringing us here. i’ve been in my head about it all too much, i think. the whole twenty-two thing. it’s nice to not have to think about it for a bit.”

she studies him for a minute, like she’s trying to look right at the core of him, so he puts down the knife he’s been using to chop the vegetables and gives her all of himself.

“you never have to thank me,” she says after a minute.

“i know.”

***

teddy “helps” harry clean up after dinner that night, which really just means that ted sits on the counter next to the kitchen sink and rattles on about something or the other while harry does the dishes. every now and then, harry blows some soap bubbles on the boy and basks in the glow of the laughter it brings out of him.

an hour later (and well past his bedtime), harry finally manages to get teddy to stay beneath the sheets, but it’s only when ginny reads him babbity rabbity twice and swears on her life that they’ll go back down to the water tomorrow that teddy settles in for the night.

“harry!” he whispers as harry’s switching off the light.

“yeah, mate,” harry stage-whispers back, his eyebrows raised for ginny’s amusement.

“happy birthday!” teddy murmurs tiredly.

“that’s tomorrow, mate.”

“still,” the boy whines.

“thanks, ted,” harry responds, gentle smile on his face.

when they finally make it into their room, harry places a quick silencing charm on the door. at ginny’s raised brow, he says, rather simply:

“for good measure.”

ginny snorts.

they’re silent as they get ready for bed, and harry lets himself sink deep into the warmth of it. they don’t get this too often, the pair of them; ginny’s spot in the harpies takes her across the world and, when harry’s not in some obscure town somewhere tracking some homicidal maniac or the other, kingsley has him on diplomatic missions across the continent. it grates at harry sometimes, how little he gets to be with his girlfriend, but ginny has games to play and championships to win and harry has people to catch and (every now and then) laws to change, and neither has any desire to stop anytime soon so they live with it. in his opinion, they’re pretty good at it. they know their limits. they carve time out for each other, always. harry makes it to all the big games, the ones she’s nervous about. ginny makes it to every stupid ceremony and the endless galas that make harry want to claw his eyes out. she keeps him going; he keeps her sane, and the rest they take as it comes, together. always together.

“harry,” her voice, light as the sun, breaks him out of his reverie. “where’d you go?”

“sorry,” he whispers back. “just in my head a bit.”

“that’s okay. it’s a nice head.”

“it’s a nice head?” he grins at her, knowing she’s caught. ginny rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her face, and when she’s done feigning her annoyance, she pulls him in for a kiss. it’s calm and confident and everything that is ginny and when they fuck, they look into each other’s eyes the entire time, and he’s reminded, with each thrust, of just how much he loves her.

***

when he wakes up, the room’s dark, the spot next to him is empty, and he can hear voices coming from below. his heart clenches for a minute, a piece of the war he’ll never be able to let go of, but it eases when he sees ginny’s wand, still on the table, still next to his.

he gets out of bed silently (mentally thanking his auror training) and makes the short walk down the hallway towards the stairs when he sees teddy’s door open too. before he has the chance to panic this time, though, he hears the boy’s laugh followed by ginny’s own giggle. there’s a smile on his face now that he knows ginny would tease him about if she could see it, but he honestly can’t help it. not when he’s in this house, full of a warmth that he’s finally, blessedly, allowed to be a part of. he spots them in the kitchen, but from their angle, he knows they can’t see him. ginny’s leaning against the counter, mixing something in a rather large bowl, while teddy’s sitting on the counter next to her, weirdly, waving a strawberry in the air.

“we gotta put it in!” he whispers, in the way five year-olds do, which isn’t much of a whisper at all. “harry loves strawberries!”

“strawberries in a birthday cake? i’m afraid you may be a genius, ted,” ginny announces in a quiet voice, while harry’s eyes fill with unshed tears. he stays glued to the spot for a bit longer, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’s ruining their surprise, but not being able to turn away from his family. eventually though, he does. he climbs, silently, back up the stairs and slips back into his and ginny’s bed. when he falls back asleep, it’s with the ghost of a smile on his face and a feeling he doesn’t think he’s known until this moment.

***

he’s woken up in the morning by teddy trying to pull his arm off.

“wha-”

“come on,” the boy whines. “it’s breakfast!”

at that, harry wakes up instantly, feeling the guilt wash over him at the idea of leaving teddy without food. it’s only then that he smells the coffee in the air and realizes that ginny isn’t next to him. he breathes just then, quickly realizing that teddy isn’t hungry; he just wants harry awake.

“sorry, mate,” harry smiles at him guiltily, voice a bit rough with sleep. he lets ted drag him down stairs, the boy practically bouncing the entire way down. when they get to the kitchen, he’s met with ginny - long hair in a knot atop her head, eyes still a little sleep tired - grinning around a piece of toast.

“morning,” she smiles up at him and he gives her a lopsided grin in return.

“ginny, ginny, ginny,” teddy bounces next to her. “we’ve gotta do it now!” he whispers.

“we should probably let him eat first,” ginny whispers back.

“no! we gotta do it now!”

“alright, alright,” she responds. “harry,” she gestures to a seat, which harry takes, brows furrowed though he thinks he knows what’s coming. sure enough, ginny and teddy disappear for a few seconds, then come back with a slightly lopsided cake adorned in strawberries, a single candle lit in the middle. he beams the minute he sees them, which turns into an all out laugh the minute teddy starts up his rendition of ‘happy birthday’ which usually involves a lot of lyrics that never stay the same and none of them ever know. when ted’s done, ginny tells him to make a wish and harry asks teddy for help blowing out the candle.

they skip actual breakfast, choosing to tuck into the cake first. it’s sickly sweet and makes teddy smile from ear to ear, frosting covering his cheeks.

“like it, mate,” harry bemusedly asks. all teddy manages is a quick nod between bites, and harry knows he’ll regret letting the kid have two slices later on. but that’s later and this is right now and right now, he’s sat at a table with the two people he loves most in the world, eating a cake they made for him. right now, he’s celebrating - in his own, admittedly, small way -  a birthday his parents’ never got to. right now, he’s doing everything they wanted for themselves and him. right now (and everyday after), he’s their son, the same as he’s always been, keeping them alive with every breath he breathes, every birthday he celebrates. right now, he’s sat with the woman he loves, laughing as he watches his godson attempt to fit an entire strawberry in his mouth, so completely and ridiculously happy.

happy birthday, ginny mouths from over teddy’s head. harry smiles easily at her, love shining through his eyes, lighter than he’s ever been.

[demibillyloomis]

Hiiii, you’re like, one of my favorite writers on here! You kinda also inspired me to write my own stuff and allow myself to post it and be proud of it! even if I kinda suck

Anyway~

My favorite thing you’ve written so far is the sensory overload thingy and I was wondering if you’d ever write a part two, or a neurodivergent reader in general? Possibly having a stressed out moment, or how billy and stu would react to y/n during more noticeable stims. Whatever you wanna do :) I just really really love how you wrote them to be so caring, especially during something that can be really scary

So I wasn’t entirely sure what to write here but I this is what I ended up with, assuming this is earlier in the relationship and the first time they deal with Y/N having happy stims and very noticeable happy stims also just some cute Billy x reader centric stuff towards the beginnings

Poly!Ghostface with Reader having Happy Stims

Warnings: mentions of stimming (obviously), mentions of food and forgetting to eat due to hyper focusing (maybe that’s a more me thing but I think a lot of us do that) and bad writing (also one slight nsfw line in the authors note at the end)

“Hey babylove,” you heard as Billy walked through the door of your apartment, the nickname was new, something he had randomly started calling you after you had began the relationship. He walked behind you pressing a kiss to the back of your head before flopping down next to you on the couch.

“Hey Billy,” you hardly look up from the book your reading to greet him, to infused in the action to notice his slight pout, however you did curl into his chest after a moment enjoying the silence.

Eventually after a few hours of reading you zone back in enough to hear that Billy had (at some point) turned on a horror movie. Looking up from you book you peered around the room, “Is Stu here?” you asked not hearing any sign of him despite him having informed you this morning he’d be coming over.

“Nah he said he had something he needed to do I think he mentioned something about how it’s probably be kinda late before he got back,” he answered eyes trained to the screen where Glen’s death scene was playing out, you watch the smile creep over your lovers lips before he laughed at how the blood shot everywhere in the scene, you smiled slightly kissing his cheek before closing the book and setting it down finally.

“Do you want to order out for dinner? I do not feel like cooking, and I don’t think I’ve ate since breakfast,” without actually waiting for an answer you began to shift through the pile of take out menus St had allowed to cultivate on your coffee table (not that you had bothered putting them up either).

“Y/N you have to eat babe, I know you said you get kinda hyper focused or whatever but you can’t go all day without eating,” Billy began to lecture you, but instead of fighting you sighed continued to shift though the menus.

“Well I’m eating now. What do you want?” You hand him a menu from Stu and yours favourite place, and with a deep sigh Billy took the menu.

“I’m getting a number 7, you want your usual right?” He asked after a moment and you nod. “Okay can you hand me the phone, I’ll call it in for us,” and soon the two of you where watching the film again while waiting for the food.

“Want to watch Freddy’s Revenge while we eat?” You asked once the end credits began to roll.

“I love you,” Billy said in lieu of an actual answer but you got up to put it on anyway. As soon as it started however food was there, you the two of you left Stu’s meal on the coffee table as you waited for him, munching happily as your gaze was fixed on the film.

By the time the credits are rolling you’re half asleep on Billy’s chest, falling farther and farther as his fingers trace patterns lazily across your arm, and then finally the door is opening to reveal a smiling Stu.

He runs into the room with a giant grin taking over his face “Y/N you won’t believe it!” He says practically bouncing as Billy and you share a tired look.

“What won’t I believe baby?” You ask as he pulls out a copy of your favourite book, and a stack of papers, handing them to you.

Upon turning over the papers you see art work of the characters from the book, signed at the bottom by the author, you hands begin to shake widely at the intricate details, and you look at the book, a little worn with love and open it to see the authors signature big and bold on the first page. You begin to rock back and forth a smiling taking over your face as you stim trying to get the excitement out. Billy sits up alert behind you and Stu drops to his knees in front of you both looking concerned. Neither had seen you so like stim quite like this before, both thinking it was something that only happened when you where sad or angry or over stimulated.

“I’m so sorry I thought you’d like it, Y/N,” Stu said

“Y/N baby what wrong,” Billy ask placing a gentle hand on your back to calm you.

As calmly as you could with the overwhelming excitement rushing through your body aside to hug Stu hard still moving the rocking and began chanting a chorus of thank yous. You kiss his cheek before bouncing “I love it, I love it, I love you,” you say giving him another kiss, “thank you so much,” and Stu and Billy both breath out a sigh of relief, as they realise you’re happy.

You laugh loudly still moving as you try to get the energy out, “You’re the best,” you yell hugging him again.

———————————————

In other words this really sucked, and let’s assume you gave him something that involves sucking once you finally calmed down, I wanted to write something involving happy stims, because a lot of time people don’t mention those in fanfics but turns out I had a really hard time explaining it in action without stating what stims Y/N is doing because I mean I don’t know I didn’t want to write how I stim and not have it be relatable or whatever. I’m sorry it’s not the best love, but I hope you still like it... also I don’t know why I wrote the whole thing with you and Billy to be honest but I figured that’s a mostly relatable thing for me and other neurodivergent ppl and that it was kinda cute I’m sorry

[mypoisonedvine]

First Chanukah Together (Night 2) | Ari Levinson x reader

(you can read night 1 here, it’s not at all necessary to understand the plot of this one though!  this one doesn’t really have a plot anyways skdjghakjghsd)

summary: you really, really like ari’s beard.  he reminds you why.  (basically there’s no plot at all it’s just smut, guys.)

word count: bit over 1.3k

warnings: smut!! (oral f receiving), beard kink, other than that just fluff and religious references (all of these are gonna have religious references it’s chanukah themed!!)

"Anything good on?" you asked as you sat down on the couch, watching Ari on the floor as he adjusted the dials on the TV, flipping through the channels mindlessly.

"Just Christmas movies," he frowned.

"We need a good Chanukah movie," you realized.  "Are there any?"

"There's Fiddler on the Roof,” he shrugged.  “That one's also a Rosh Hashanah movie, and a Yom Kippur movie.  And a Passover movie."

"So it's sort of an all-purpose Jewish movie."

"Pretty much, yeah," he laughed.  "At least, in my family."

"I guess they don't show it on TV out here," you realized.

"Nope," he agreed, "just a lot of White Christmas."

"Oh hey, that Rudolph special is kinda cute," you commented as you saw him flip past it.

"Cute?!  Those clay people freak me out," he shuddered.

“You may be the most fearless man I know, but you’re afraid of a stop-motion baby reindeer,” you chuckled.  “You’re a trip, Ari Levinson.”

"It's getting pretty dark out, would you light the second candle?” he requested as he motioned to the menorah in the window.  You nodded and got up to do so, realizing how dark it was from the way you couldn’t see much of anything outside through the glass— just the reflection of the candles, and the light cast by the TV behind you.  Ari’s profile was always stunning, but in the faint blue-ish glow of the screen, you found yourself ogling a little bit.  You didn’t get many chances to look at him uninterrupted; he usually noticed and started teasing you, but now he couldn’t see you staring at all.  

“Please never shave your beard,” you blurted out suddenly as you turned to face him again.  “Or cut your hair.”

He looked up at you from the floor, smirking a bit.  “Really?  I was kinda thinking about at least getting an inch or two off the hair,” he admitted, running his fingers through it.  “It’s gettin’ sorta shaggy.”

“I like it that way,” you announced as you knelt down to join him on the floor, only to yelp in surprise as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him suddenly, both of you toppling onto the ground.

“Do you?” he pressed, leaning in to kiss your neck— his beard tickled you a little when he did that, and it made you shiver in his strong embrace.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded weakly.  His body weight pressing you into the floor was relaxing in one sense, and invigorating in another.  As his arms reached up to rest on either side of your head, caging you in, and his hips slotted in between your legs, you found yourself biting down on your lip without realizing you’d done it.

“You don’t think it makes me look like a hippy?” he chuckled, kisses trailing down to your collarbone; when the neckline of your sweater got in the way, he pulled it down and kept going.  You couldn’t find the energy to worry about him stretching out your favorite top, focusing instead on the way his lips felt against your skin— and the way you could almost feel him getting hard through his jeans when he pushed up against you just right.

“Kinda,” you admitted, barely able to keep track of the conversation as he kept moving lower and lower, “but it’s… I dunno, it’s hot.”

“Sounds like you do know,” he mocked as he moved his body down on top of yours, his head resting just above your stomach.  Your disappointment must’ve shown on your face because he started laughing.  “What’s wrong, pretty baby?”

“Um,” you stalled, having to focus to keep your hips from bucking up towards him.

“Just tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he shrugged.

A pang of need hit inside you, as if you needed reminding of what you wanted.  “Ari, need your mouth, please…”

He smirked and slid down that last little bit, grabbing your fuzzy pajama pants and pulling them down to your ankles— and your underwear along with them.  “What are you all wet for?” he cooed, stopping for a moment to kiss inside your thighs.  You could tell he was intentionally rubbing his beard against your sensitive skin, letting the ends of his long hair tickle you in a… specific place.

“Fffuck,” you stammered in lieu of an answer.

“Is this all for me?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you nodded quickly.

“You smell so good,” he purred.  You couldn’t be sure if it was the way his voice got deeper and darker that made your spine tingle and your nipples harden instantly, or if it was the filthy words that voice was actually saying.  It was sort of embarrassing when he said stuff like that, but in a way you had grown to find quite enjoyable.  Once he’d figured out your sensitivity to praise— especially that kind of praise— he’d taken every opportunity to exploit it.  “Bet you taste even better,” he finished as he dove in between your legs, licking a long, slow stripe through your folds.

You could feel his beard against your pussy and you thought you might die.

“Ari,” you moaned, “fuck.”  You let your head fall back against the floor, which he corrected instantly with a light slap on your thigh.

“Nuh uh, baby, wanna see those pretty eyes while I taste your cunt, okay?  Don't look away."

You were pretty sure it wasn't about him seeing your eyes, though; it was about you seeing him do this to you.  Those blue eyes of his pierced right through you as he latched his lips onto your swollen clit, your back arching instantly of its own accord.

You could feel him smile a little as he kept working you, tongue laving over every sensitive spot he could find— which, it turns out, is a lot.  Even more came into play as he pressed two thick fingers inside you.

"Ari, baby," you whimpered, pushing back against his hand.  Just his fingers were enough to get so deep inside you; it was a wonder you were able to take his cock at all.  "Right there," you sighed.

"Think I don't know that?  You're about to come already," he laughed as he licked your clit again.  Your fingers laced into his hair, tightening and tugging at the roots without really meaning to.  The long ends were swinging against the insides of your thighs as you rocked back onto his hand and face, and it made your whole body erupt into goosebumps.  "Come on my tongue, pretty baby," he encouraged darkly, "wantcha to soak this beard you like so much with your come."

"Fuck, 'm gonna," you hissed, "so close, please please don't stop."

The hand holding your thigh gripped you a little tighter, just as the fingers inside you curled a little harder.  Pressure seized up in your gut as you felt your walls clenching on him; warmth spread from between your legs, specks of color danced behind your eyes.  You heard his name before you even realized that it was you who said it.  

When his fingers slipped out of you and his face emerged from between your thighs, he was grinning so wide that it was impossible not to smile with him.  “That was…” you searched for the right word, still catching your breath, “unexpected.”

You giggled when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his beard nearly dripping with your arousal even as he tried to clean it off a bit.  “I bet I’ll be able to smell your cunt for days ‘cause of this.”

“Don’t be mad cause I gave you what you asked for,” you shrugged.

He leaned in to hover above you, ghosting his lips over your ear and pressing his hips between your legs so you could feel how hard his cock had become.  “Oh, I’m not mad,” he assured darkly, sending a shiver up your spine just with his voice, “but I’m not anywhere near done with you yet.”

[fics-n-stuff]

Secondhand Sofa

Pairing: Willie x Alex

Summary: Alex and Willie need to buy a sofa for their new apartment, domesticity insues. (Alive AU)

Word Count: 1097

A/N: There is nothing that actually connects them, so you don't have to read it, but I wrote this in the same universe as my previous Willex fic Really, Really. It's like a few years in the future from that.

Alex felt like he was dreaming watching Willie dance around the kitchen, but he couldn’t be because he had just woken up not five minutes earlier. Therefore, it had to be real that he and his boyfriend had moved into an apartment together, and said boyfriend was currently the cutest thing on the planet while they made breakfast.

“Morning.” Alex said softly, a fond smile on his face. Willie spun around to look at him, a grin spreading across their lips at the sight of the sleepy blonde. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes.” Willie chirped, turning back to the pan. “How’d you sleep?”

Alex hadn’t expected to sleep well that night, it being their first night in the new apartment. Technically they had started moving in almost a week ago, but they had only gotten a bed yesterday and still didn’t have a sofa. But, to his surprise, he had gotten a full night of sound sleep and he was pretty sure it was because he’d had Willie sleeping beside him.

“Pretty good actually.” He answered, coming up behind his boyfriend to watch the pancake making process over their shoulder. Completely predictably, both the countertop and the stove were a mess. “I am not helping you clean this up.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Willie chuckled. They reached back to grab Alex’s arms and quickly wrapped them around their own body, smiling when he tightened his hold and rested his chin on their shoulder.

The two of them stood there silently while Willie finished making the last few pancakes, and then Alex grabbed some toppings and plates and they moved through to the living room. The area was sparse – they didn’t actually have any furniture to sit on – but they did have an old table that Ray had gifted them and a slightly ugly rug that Alex had stolen from his parents' attic. They had ordered a TV that should have arrived already but seemed to be delayed in it’s delivery.

“There’s a pretty good sofa at the second-hand store a couple blocks away, if we buy it before noon they’ll deliver same day.” Willie said as they sat down on the rug. “Before you ask, it’s not an ugly pattern and there are no mysterious stains.”

“That sounds pretty good. Is it yellow, orange or green?”

“No.”

“Can we afford it?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go after breakfast.” Alex smiled, making Willie giggle and they leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “You have to clean the kitchen first.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to ruin it?” They sighed.

“Because you have a habit of making messes and I need to get into the habit of making you clean them up.” Alex answered. “If I don’t start enforcing the rules early then you’ll never listen to me.”

The two of them finished their breakfast, chatting and joking while they ate, and then Alex relented to washing the dishes while Willie cleaned the kitchen surfaces. He really struggled saying no to Willie.

The walk to the second-hand store wasn’t very long, and when they arrived Willie pointed out the sofa through the window before they went in. It was a plain grey, fabric three-seater without any stains, just as Willie had said.

“You know, I didn’t expect it to actually be so alright.” Alex teased, earning himself a light punch on the shoulder from his boyfriend.

“Come on, let’s go pay for it.” They smirked, pulling Alex into the store by their joined hands.

Not only did they get the sofa, but they also came away with a couple of blue tie dye beanbags; Willie’s eyes had lit up when they saw them and Alex didn’t have the heart to say no. The sofa was set to be delivered that afternoon but they carried the beanbags home on their backs, earning a few amused glances from the people that they passed.

“Now we’ll have space for guests!” Willie beamed, dropping their beanbag onto the living room floor. “See, perfect!”

“Yeah, perfect.” Alex smiled fondly, setting his down too. “Two steps closer to having a fully furnished apartment. We have about three hours until the sofa is delivered, what do you want to do?”

“Cookies, cupcakes or brownies?” Willie’s eyes shone so brightly with excitement that Alex almost didn’t think about the mess that they would make baking. “Please?”

“Willie, I love you, but I cannot deal with you constantly making messes in the kitchen; the kitchen that I also have to use.”

“Yeah, and that means you can make the mess with me.” Alex wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Willie look so mischievous, which was saying something. He pursed his lips, trying so hard to resist giving in to his adorable boyfriend. But, alas, he was a weak man.

“Okay, fine, let’s make brownies.” He sighed, and Willie’s smile widened.

“I love you.” They cooed, grabbing Alex’s hand and dragging him through to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but feel that the words were some type of precursory apology for the mess that was about to be made.

+ + +

“I hate you.” Alex huffed, looking at the mess of flour and chocolate around him. “I love you, but I hate you.”

“You helped me make it so you gotta help me clean it.” Willie grinned teasingly. They had somehow managed to get brownie mix smeared across their cheek, and Alex couldn’t help but move his hand up to wipe it away.

“You tricked me. It was entrapment.”

“No, it was baking with your very pretty boyfriend.”

“The prettiest.” Alex smiled, placing a light kiss on the tip of Willie’s nose. Just then, his phone started ringing where he’d left it in the living room. “Start cleaning.”

“You got it, hotdog.” They chuckled, and Alex scoffed as he went to answer the phone.

The caller ID said it was Julie, but when he picked up he heard Luke talking to somebody else – probably Reggie - on the other end.

“What do you want?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you guys have furniture yet? We’re still waiting for a housewarming party.” Luke said, and Alex could just picture the smirk on his face.

“Who said we were gonna have a housewarming party?”

“Bro, Willie definitely wants to have a housewarming party.”

“And so do all of us!” Reggie called from the background.

“So, do you have furniture yet?” Luke questioned again. Alex let the silence drag out for a moment before he sighed loudly.

“Our sofa arrives in an hour and a half. We still don’t have a TV but if you wanna come then tonight works.” He answered flatly.

“Awsome!” Luke cheered. “See you tonight.”

“We’ll bring takeout!” Julie managed to yell before Alex hung up. He rolled his eyes, stuffing his phone into his pocket and going back to the kitchen.

“What time should we expect them?” Willie asked with an amused smile, wiping down the counter.

“I have no clue.” Alex shrugged. “But we don’t have to cook dinner.”

The two of them finished cleaning the kitchen while they waited for the brownies. It was so utterly domestic, and Alex couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face the entire time. Once the brownies were out of the oven they settled on the beanbags with Willie’s laptop to watch some Netflix while they waited for the sofa to be delivered.

The delivery guys were nice when they arrived, getting the sofa into the apartment and not complaining that the building’s elevator was broken and they had to carry it up five narrow flights of stairs. Now, finally, they had an almost fully functional living room. And to top it all off, the sofa not only looked good in the space but it was also comfortable.

“This place is really starting to feel like a home.” Alex said, taking a moment to stand back and take in the room.

“It’s always gonna feel like a home as long as we’re here together.” Willie replied sweetly, grabbing his hand and dragging him with them to sit on the sofa. “I definitely think we could use a few plants though.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say such sentimental things and then immediately follow them up with a throwaway comment.” Alex explained. He'd never brought it up before but it was something that Willie had been doing a lot for quite a while, and it made Alex’s chest feel funny. He wasn’t particularly good at verbalising heartfelt sentiments – it had taken him a while to even get comfortable with saying “I love you" – but Willie didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

“Because I love you.” They shrugged in answer. “And I love you all the time, even during the most mundane moments. Sometimes I love you and it’s a really big deal and it’s a special moment, but sometimes I love you during super casual moments like getting our sofa delivered.” Alex just stared at them, his brain struggling to process what Willie had said beyond how fuzzy it made him feel.

“Okay.” He mumbled after an unnecessarily long pause, not knowing how else to respond. Willie giggled, adjusting the laptop on the table and hitting play before curling into Alex’s side.

“You could say it back.”

“Oh, I love you too.”

“I know.” They grinned.

They sat together on their freshly delivered sofa for hours, watching Netflix and chatting about random things. Their apartment was turning out to be actually quite cosy. They’d been sitting in silence for a while when all of a sudden Willie spoke up.

“You know what we need to buy?” They asked.

“A set of shelves for all of our miscellaneous stuff and more storage for our ridiculous collection of socks?” Alex suggested, practical as always.

“Well, yeah, but not what I was thinking.”

“Of course not.” Alex chuckled. “What were you thinking?”

“We need fluffy blankets.” Willie smiled excitedly. “And pillows to put on the couch.”

“Why?”

“So that, when our TV arrives, we can have movie nights on the couch and be all warm and comfy.”

“Hm, maybe that’s a good idea.” Alex smiled. He pushed a piece of hair away from their face and tucked it behind their ear, leaning in.

“Yeah, I think so.” Willie replied softly.

They were both smiling, faces only centimetres apart, when they were interrupted by very loud knocking at their door.

“FBI, open up!” They heard Flynn call from the other side. Alex groaned.

“Our idiots are here.” He said flatly. “What incredible timing.”

“We’ll have plenty of time another day. Go answer it, before we get complaints.” Willie replied as the knocking persisted. They pressed a very quick kiss to Alex’s lips before pushing him off of the sofa towards the door.

“Stop knocking, I’m coming!” He yelled, then lowered his voice to a bitter mutter, “I swear to God, this better not become a regular thing.” Willie laughed, and the sound warmed Alex’s heart.

He finally had his own space away from his parents and he shared it with the most perfect boyfriend he could have ever imagined having. He reveled in the feeling for a second before he opened the front door and his rowdy friends destroyed the quiet domestic moment. But that was okay, because this was his family and, although he acted like he was mad, Alex wouldn’t want it any other way.

[providencepeakrp]

CHARACTER INFORMATION:

Character Name: Rüya Seren.

Type of Connection: High School Ex/Former Roommate/Complication/Forme Mark?

Connection Name: UTP.

Connection Age: 31-34.

Suggested FCs: Serkay Tütüncü, Matt Barr, Ben Robson, Kellan Lutz, Miguel Gomez, John Clarence Stewart, Lewis Tan, Patrick Flueger, LaRoyce Hawkins, Serkan Cayoglu - UTP.

CONNECTION DESCRIPTION:

Okay so please bare with me I can never do anything short lmao and I have a lot of ideas for this!! Also trigger warnings for police, drugs, money laundering, jail.

So Rüya and this guy met in high school and dated. It wasn't a super serious relationship or anything and they broke up amicably and remained friends (She was very... wild child in hs due to some home issues and guilt issues so I imagine he'd have been part of that partying scene as well even if it wasn't as extensive or even more so. Up to you!)

Lost touch throughout the years, ya know, as people do

Once Rüya moved back to New York she reached out to him to see if he knew of anyone looking for a roommate and he was like 'Yeah! Me and my friends!' so she moved in with them

Prior to moving in with them, and tbh probably for the first few months, she had no idea about any of the criminal stuff they were doing- she just focused on taking care of her mom and working

She and this character kind of reconnected during this time, they became closer friends and just kind of vibed ya know

Slowly Rüya kind of became overwhelmed with her mom's medical bills/debt and her own bills and she was kind of floundering, vented to this character, who was like... maybe I can help

He talked to his pals and vouched for her and they brought her in on their operation

She started off slow because she had to gain their trust, but she did it quickly and she was *good* at it all

Then she got caught by an FBI agent trying to sell a big shipment of pills and was turned into a CI in lieu of going to prison

So she turned CI (one of the agents she worked with is actually in game and there's a WC for the other so!!) and she kind of... got closer to this character in order to get more information

He wasn't the like top dog of the operation, he trusted her, they got along *very* well so it made sense to her- esp since she was kind of trying to get as much information as fast as possible at first so she could get the whole thing over with

I was thinking that she kind of "dated" him during this time, pretended to have feelings and got closer to get this information... but the lines kind of got blurred between her actual feelings and what she was pretending in order to be trusted and brought further in

Whatever she WAS feeling for him was muddled/overshadowed by the v intense kind of... fling? Idk what to call it, she was having with one of the agents (that this character obviously wouldn't know about)

Anyways, all this to say his feelings were very real and so was his trust in her; so when shit hit the fan and she was produced as the prosecutions big ass confidential informant witness he was hurt, livid, confused... you name it, he probs felt it?

Rüya left NYC after the trials of her now former roommates were over and moved to Providence Peak six months ago

Rüya carries a lot of guilt about how she screwed this character over specifically, because she really did/does care for him in her own fucked up way especially with their history, so she wrote him a letter

I wanna say maybe a month or so ago? (Totally up to you, pls feel free to change it) this character was released from prison because his conviction got thrown out. The cops arrested and Mirandized him, he asked for a lawyer, and in their infinite wisdom/arrogance they ignored him and kept questioning him. SO his rights were violated, his lawyers found out AFTER the trial was over, and worked real hard to get him released

So dude is out now, and I think he's decided to track Rüya down- whether it's for revenge, to find out why she did what she did, or whatever- it's totally up for discussion and plotting!

We could also go the route of him just showing up in Providence for a fresh start and finding her working at one of the bars she works at and... oof. Instantly angry lol

I know this is a lot but I'm open to anything! And his history/future/everything his pretty much up in the air aka totally up to you. I just want the angst and the drama of him popping back in, her being scared/guilty, him being angry. And see where it goes. Please note though, I don't see him as a violent person so any sort of revenge isn't like... he'd kill her sort of thing. I have a Pinterest board for them here.

Do you need to be contacted before someone applies? Yes Please.

[best-ghoul]

GRAVEN: Okay so slang, right?

Honestly I’m glad I finally decided “Everyone’s speaking Ingenue [local lingua franca]” means “characters talk in equivalent vernacular register to the modern era.” Because nobody actually speaks Ingenue,  y’see. It means I can put as many “what the shit” and “are you fucking kidding?”s in as I want!

Liberating stuff, as you might imagine.

It shouldn’t be laborious to at least think in GRAVEN’s lingua franca, so I’m using our own lingua franca, American vernacular english with modern slang that’s at least cognate everywhere (i.e. “dick”, “cop”), where accuracy’s burdensome. If you don’t speak it yourself, you at least hear it all the time.

Imagine I’m translating for you on the fly, if that helps. It’s DM-voice.

Tooltips also mean that I can add tl notes, so apply mangaka logic for concepts with no vernacular equivalent that nonetheless need a clear “evergreen” (that is, works for 1820 or 2020) from a grab bag from the cultures they source from. Idioms, where untranslatable, are nonetheless illustrative.

Hard loanwords are printed as spoken, and get an entry in the glossary: they generally imply an equivalent structure in the culture of origin. Obviously stuff that’s complicated gets answered via narrative, and you can pick up “disciplines” and “etiquettes” (dialog option tags, in lieu of throwing dice mid-convo) if you wanna be an expert in a certain area.

Ironically, this also means that “senpai” is setting legal, I had to wrestle with that one for like, 20 fucking minutes.

[everybodyscupoftea]

something out of a disney movie

sigma chi jj x reader

leading up to winter formal and a glimpse at the weekend ahead

finished school today :) kinda drunk at the moment so there’s that

(warnings: cursing, same editing as usual)

You worked on the cooler for so long after JJ asked you to his frat’s Winter Formal. From YouTube videos to Google searches to social media groups, you’d looked through it all trying to come up with ideas. 

Sarah, who was working on John B’s at the same time, offered to do it with you. The two of you holed up in her apartment working together when you finally decided a proper theme. “What about the Outer Banks?” you asked Sarah.

She hummed, “Like what do you mean?”

“Stuff he likes to do that we’ve done together, surfing and fishing, some of his favorite restaurants. That kind of vibe.”

“That’s pretty personal, but I like it since you guys are actually dating.”

You smiled, excited, “Me too. Okay, let’s do this.”

-

After the cooler was solved, you realized you needed a dress. Sarah stepped in yet again to take you to a boutique she really liked. The two of you were browsing happily, a glass of champagne handed to you at the door.

Maybe that should’ve been a sign of how expensive everything in the store was going to be, but you didn’t process that until you’d pulled a few to try on and accidentally flipped a price tag over.

Choking on your sip, you exclaimed, “$250 holy fuck!”

Sarah wandered over, “What’s up?”

“This is so expensive. Dude, I’m not sure I can justify this.”

She waved your concerns away, “Don’t worry, I’ll sugar daddy you.”

Part of you, a big part of you, wanted to say no, you didn’t need charity. But you figured eventually, through coffee and food, you could pay her back.

“I-” you paused, “are you absolutely sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I get discounts here, no worries! Pick out the dress that you love, no looking at price.”

So you did. It was really cute, and both Sarah and the lady working really hyped you up about it, of course you had to get it after that. Sarah sent JJ a picture of the color so he could match, but told him he couldn’t see it until the day of.

When he begged, she sent back its so pretty maybank. be patient

-

“Okay,” you told JJ stepping into his room, “I have the cooler outside the door with the alcohol if you want to look now.”

JJ stood up from where he was laying on the bed excitedly, “I wanna see it.”

You held your hand out and he took it, walking outside the door with him. He looked down at it and smiled. Crossing your arms in front of you after he dropped your hand to turn it around, you asked, “What do you think?”

“It’s fantastic.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Of course! I mean I’d like anything because it was from you and I’m a fan of everything you do.” 

Your cheeks heated up, “Sap.”

“Only for you.”

“I wasn’t sure what alcohol you wanted so I grabbed some vodka and tequila. Plus some White Claw for either mixing or pre-game. Figured we could pick up some mixers on the way out.”

“Sounds great to me,” he bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, “I’m so excited for this.”

“I am too,” you told him honestly, “when do we leave?”

“Few hours. Figure it won’t be too long a drive, and we won’t have to leave super early. You got your bag in the car?”

“I do.”

“Sweet. Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Absolutely.”

JJ laid back down on the bed, giving you room to crawl in next to him and started the Grinch movie. About 30 minutes after it started, his head snapped over to face you, “How’d you get the alcohol Miss Underaged?”

“Sarah helped with that. Not sure how she did it, but I got her a list and Venmoed her my share.”

“The two of you did a lot together for this, huh?”

“Well it is a first for both of us, so of course we did.”

JJ shook his head, “Should’ve known y’all would end up decent friends.”

-

The drive to Charleston was short, and JJ led the two of you to check into your hotel room. It was a fairly basic room, and he immediately disappeared to the bathroom to start getting ready. All you had left to do was put on your dress.

“Let’s try to not be late, yeah J?”

“Too late at least. You’re never on time, hon.”

You scoffed, “Maybe this is me turning over a new leaf.”

He stuck his head out the room to give you an incredulous look, “No.”

“I’ll prove you wrong for sure.”

“Bet I’ll finish getting ready before you do even though you’re already mostly ready.”

Your jaw tightened, but you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, “Bet.”

You weren’t entirely sure how ready JJ was, only that if you wanted to be first, you needed to start getting your dress on. The one thing you had going for you was that he struggled tying a tie and he’d have to figure that out before he could be finished.

JJ stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, tightening his belt, and you stood up, already in your dress with a smirk on your face, “I win.”

He rolled his eyes, “Win what?”

“We bet but since we don’t normally bet money, you have to bring me drinks all night.”

“It’s my formal.”

“Yeah, it’s still your formal, but you have the added responsibility of keeping my cup full. I’d do the same for you if you were better at getting dressed.”

“Dude,” JJ shook his head, “I’ll give you this one, but I’ll get you next year.”

“Sure,” you smirked.

And then it was like JJ processed that you were in the dress because his jaw dropped and he let out a low whistle, “Damn.”

“What do you think?”

“You look,” he paused, “incredible, beautiful, stunning, all the good adjectives.”

Shaking your head, you smiled, “Thanks, J.”

“I’m gonna have the prettiest date there tonight.”

“Now that’s an exaggeration,” you told him, ears warming under the attention.

“I never exaggerate.”

-

You were both late. The party was in full swing when the two of you finally got downstairs, and JJ kept his arm around your waist tightly the whole time the two of you walked around. There was a small buffet set up that the two of you ate a little bit from, but JJ took you straight to the alcohol for your first cups.

It was loud and dark in the hotel ballroom, barely lit by candles scattered all over the room like out of some sort of Disney movie, and you couldn’t see much, but JJ found Pope and John B fairly quickly. Sarah and Pope’s date were both there, and you felt relieved, finally being with someone you knew.

“Wow,” Sarah called out when she saw you, “worth every penny.”

You did a little twirl, “Looks pretty good,” you admitted.

“Pretty,” JJ scoffed, “try very or incredibly.”

Sarah snorted, “Hype man JJ. I’m glad your tie is the right color to match.”

“Hype man?” John B interrupted, “more like simp.”

“I paid attention,” he defended, “and you fuck off.”

“This time,” you muttered. JJ playfully poked your nose, “Slandering my name there sweetheart.”

“I’d never,” you told him, placing a hand over your heart.

In lieu of an answer, JJ pulled you out on the dance floor. You smiled, recognizing his deflection tactic, but let it happen.

He twirled you around twice, and you laughed when he almost stepped on your toes. 

“Careful bud,” you told him, “Trying to knock me out?”

“By stepping on your toes? No.”

“Trying to get out of dancing then?”

He smiled softly, “With you? Never.”

You couldn’t help but kiss him at his sappy words, excited for the long weekend ahead.

~

for day 15 of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: winter formal

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Twenty-Four

“Robs, we got a meeting in five minutes,” Beverly stated as she stood beside Robyn’s desk.

“I know. I’m trying to find the vendor file for Albert’s. Question? Did you move some of my stuff off my desk while I was gone?”

“I unpacked that box that was delivered the day your boyfriend came by and moved some of your files to your inbox but that was it.”

“What was in the box anyway?”

“This,” Beverly pointed at a large marble figurine that was now sitting by her phone, “I left the card it came with in your top drawer. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it.”

“I’ve been on Zoom conference calls all day. I haven’t had time to look at my phone. It is beautiful though.”

“It is.”

“Did you read the card?”

“Thought about it but it seemed like a personal gift.”

“Well thank you for your restraint.”

Beverly laughed, “We need to get going to the meeting. I got paper copies of the presentation slides and of the vendor file, we’ll have to find the original later.”

“Works for me.”

Robyn grabbed her iPad and followed Beverly to the conference room.

“Just something for you to always remember me by and to brighten up your desk. Love you. Christopher.”

Robyn smiled as she read the words of the card. Chris got her a just-because gift. And it was expensive as hell, going by the price on the internet when she researched what the figurine was. It was a marble statue in the shape of two non-descript bodies, one male and one female, entwined with each other. She didn’t see one that looked exactly like the one Chris gave her so it seemed to be custom. She picked up her office phone and dialed a number. It rang for a few moments before she heard a voice, “Hello, Professor Brown speaking.”

“Professor Brown? I kind of like the sound of that.”

Chris laughed, “Hey Baby. What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. I just wanted to check on you. How are you?”

“I’m good. Getting back into the swing of things.”

“Regretting teaching for the summer yet?”

“Actually no. I got a pretty good set of students this summer. I’m happy about that.”

“That’s great but I wanted to thank you for my gift.”

“You finally opened the box?”

“The day you came over for lunch, I completely forgot about it. Bev unpacked it while we were in Pennsylvania. Why didn’t you say anything about it?”

“Because it was a gift, I didn’t want to assume you opened it already and then ruin the surprise.”

“I guess. Is it custom?”

“It’s one of a kind but I didn’t have it specially made. The artist doesn’t do mass production.”

“Well it’s beautiful. What made you pick that one?”

“It just seemed like something you would like. Was I right?”

“Very right. What you up to right now?”

“Just finishing up a lesson plan. Why?”

“You gonna be in your office for a while?”

“Maybe a few more hours. I got office hours this afternoon.”

“Cool.”

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Well I just wanted to thank you for my gift. I gotta finish up this proposal and take a nap.”

“You’ve been doing ok with working your normal hours?”

“As long as I sneak a nap in, I’m good.”

“Alright Baby. Finish your work and get some rest, I’ll see you at home.”

“Ok. Love you.”

“I love you too, Baby. Bye.”

“Bye.”

They hung up. Robyn glanced at the clock then looked down at the proposal on her desk, “that can wait until tomorrow.”

She logged into her computer system and pulled up the online order form for her favorite restaurant.

“Somehow I just knew you were gonna pull up on me,” Chris said as he opened his office door. He took the large cloth bag from Robyn’s hand as he leaned in to kiss her.

“I wasn’t going to but then I said what the hell, I haven’t seen your office yet.”

“You haven't?”

“Nope.”

“That’s crazy. I thought I brought you here before but regardless, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I needed to get out of the office.”

“Tough day.”

“Long day. I was gonna just take a nap and get back at it but I decided to just take the rest of the day off.”

“My couch is very comfy if you wanna stay and still take your nap.”

“I’m not trying to crowd your space, I just wanted to bring you something to eat for a change.”

“I like you in my space though.”

Robyn playfully rolled her eyes as she sat on the edge of his desk, “so what’s the lesson for the week?”

“We are working on basic scales on the piano. This is my beginner’s Piano class that I’m teaching this summer.”

“You teaching composition classes?”

“Not this summer. I didn’t want to teach anything too complex. Beginner’s Piano lets me relax a bit because if I don’t want to teach, teach, I can always give them practice notes and they can do that in lieu of class.”

“Ah, good thinking.”

“I have good ideas sometimes.”

Robyn chuckled, “so when are you gonna play for me again? It’s been a long time actually.”

“Well after lunch, I could take you to my classroom, I keep a keyboard in there for illustrations.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great. So we’ll eat, I take you around to see some stuff then we’ll go to my class.”

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

“Dada!”

Chris pulled his attention from Robyn moving around the kitchen to Christian sitting on his lap. He carefully fixed his elongated curls and kissed his forehead, “what’s up, Baby Boy? Daddy not paying enough attention to you.”

Christian poked out his bottom lip and Chris chuckled, “your sister’s been teaching you a lot more than I thought.”

“Did he hit you with the pout?” Robyn asked with a laugh.

“He definitely did.”

“I took his teddy bear this morning and he did it to me. Isn’t it cute?”

“Yea until he realizes it’s power.”

Robyn laughed, “like Anesa has with you.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “whatever.”

“Our daughter has you wrapped around her finger and you know it.”

“She’s just like her mama.”

“I am not spoiled.”

“Yea. Right.”

“Well if I am spoiled, it’s your fault.”

“Whatever.”

Robyn chuckled, “you decide what you want for dinner?”

“Isn’t it a little early?”

“I’m in a cooking mood so I’d rather start while I feel like it.”

“I can cook dinner, Babe.”

“I know but I’m not asking you that. I’m asking what do you want to eat for dinner?”

Chris raised his brow at her and Robyn settled her hands on her hips as she tilted her head at him, “problem?”

“Nope.”

A big smile came over his face and Robyn’s brow furrowed in confusion, “why you smiling so wide?”

“Just realized something.”

“Something like?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Ok,” Robyn said softly, “you know what you want?”

“Oxtails.”

“Yellow rice or rice and peas?”

“Rice and peas.”

“Macaroni and cheese or cabbage?”

“Can you do both?”

“Yup. Dessert?”

“I’ll make it. What you thinking?”

“Apple pie with ice cream sounds good.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. I’ll get the oxtails started and in the crockpot so you’ll have your space for whatever you need to do.”

“Check and see if there’s any ingredients you need, me and the kids can go to the store for you.”

“I should be good. I did want to ask you something.”

“Anything, Baby. What’s up?”

“Do you have any friends?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m very serious. I never hear about any or see you leave to hang out or anything.”

“I do have friends but we all have busy lives so we don’t get together as much. Also I did leave most of our friends behind in LA.”

“Do you ever regret leaving LA, separate from the divorce?”

“Honestly? No. We lived there for a long time so there’s not much I missed while living there. You?”

“I don’t know. I think we spent so much time together and traveling all over the place, LA was a home base but it wasn’t home, if that makes sense.”

“I get what you mean. You ever think about going back?”

“I’ve thought about going to visit but never actively made plans.”

“We should take the kids. Go to Disneyland, show them my other profession.”

“How is the firm doing?”

“It’s going well. I haven’t had any fires that needed to be put out so other than occasional conference calls regarding budgets and project approvals, I’ve been pretty hands off.”

“You ever thought about going back to being an architect?”

“I get the chance to still be a part of the industry being on the board so I don’t feel like I totally left in a sense.”

“Understandable.I also need to know if you’re going to my gala with me.”

“Of course. I’m your forever date, remember?”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that but ok.”

Chris shook his head with a laugh, “there you go being stubborn for no reason.”

Robyn laughed, “I’m just saying that I don’t remember saying that.”

“OK Wife.”

“Ok Boyfriend.”

Chris stuck his tongue out at her while he stood up with Christian in his arms, “I’m gonna put him down for his nap then I’ll be back to help cook. Don’t start without me, I need to see how you cook these”

“Oxtails are not difficult to make.”

“For someone who’s been making them most of their life, of course not.”

“Am I giving you a cooking lesson?”

“You could call it that.”

“I think you just want to be up under me.”

“Up under you and a whole lot more.”

“You lucky he’s still an infant and not repeating you just yet.”

“I got some time before we have to start speaking in code.”

“You’re silly.”

Chris left down the hall while Robyn began rummaging through the freezer.

“Ok, you can put the peppers in now,” Robyn instructed as she glanced over into the crockpot. Chris gathered a pile of chopped green pepper and dumped them into the vessel, “those aren’t chopped too big?”

“Nah, it’s gonna stew for a couple hours so they’ll break down. If we diced them to start with, they’ll disintegrate by time the food was done.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“So what exactly do you know how to cook?”

“Anything as long as I got the recipe.”

“You don’t cook from memory?”

“Some stuff, mainly stuff I’ve been eating the majority of my life but everything else, I need a recipe.”

“And here I was all impressed, thinking you were cooking from memory or something.”

“It was still good though.”

“It was but we’ll work on that part.”

“What part?”

“Learning to cook from the heart and not from a cookbook or Google search.”

“That sounds way easier than it is.”

“I think you’ll catch on quick. So earlier, what was that big smile all about?”

“What smile?”

“When I was asking you about what you wanted for dinner.”

“Just reminded me of when we were first married. You get pretty feisty once you get comfortable with someone.”

“I’ve always been comfortable with you.”

“No you haven't, especially since we were kind of pushed into the next step of the relationship before either of us were ready.”

“What you mean?”

“We had only been seriously dating for a few weeks then suddenly we’re moving in together. I’m sure that was not part of your plan at the time.”

“I honestly didn’t have a plan. You were the one ready to get married again.”

“Getting married again and having a baby are two totally different plans.”

“Another baby wasn’t in the plans?”

“Considering your age, I wasn’t exactly sure if you wanted to try for biological children, that’s why I never brought it up.”

“We never talked about kids?”

“No. Nesa asked you about it once but other than that, the discussion never came up. And that was before we were even dating.”

“We didn’t talk about a lot of stuff.”

“Not exactly my fault though.”

Robyn cut her eye at Chris and he shrugged his shoulders, “you had me walking on eggshells and you know it.”

“That was never my intention.”

“I know.”

“You know you could’ve broken up with me at some point.”

“That was never an option.”

“Why?”

“I trust you and your judgment, you know when you’re tripping and will adjust accordingly. It’d be stupid as hell to break up over something that’s easy to fix.”

“I guess.”

“Did you want to break up with me?”

“I didn’t even want to get back with you in the first place, remember?”

“Actually you did but you were afraid to, not the same thing.”

“Fear was the reason. Not dating was the action. You and your semantics again.”

Chris laughed as he grabbed a bottle of juice out of the fridge.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re being feisty again.”

“You’re annoying.”

Chris chuckled as he walked over to her and leaned against the counter next to her. Robyn rolled her eyes as she placed the seasoned meat into the crockpot and put on the lid. She set it to high then turned to face Chris, “so what do you wanna do until dinner?”

“Let’s keep talking about this feisty attitude of yours.”

“I’d rather not,” Robyn pointed a wooden spoon in his direction, “and if that smirk turns into a laugh, I’ma pop you in the head with this spoon.”

“Now you’re threatening me? Oh, I should definitely start planning our wedding.”

“You get on my nerves.”

“And you love me.”

“You’re just a glutton for punishment.”

“Considering I dish it and don’t take it, I will disagree with that.”

“The lies.”

“I got some clips that say otherwise.”

“Shut up.”

Chris took a sip of his juice, “if you were to get married again, do you want a wedding or just a reception?”

“Neither. I’d rather just skip to the  honeymoon.”

“You wouldn’t want to celebrate?”

“Been there. Done that.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to make new memories though.”

“I just don’t want the theatrics. An uneventful proposal and marriage day works. Simple works just fine for me”

“Really?”

“Yea. What? You over there taking notes?”

“No, just asking questions.”

“I already know you’re gonna propose to me so you don’t have to play coy.”

“I’m not proposing tonight therefore I’m not playing coy.”

“Would you want a ceremony?”

“Something simple to mark the moment, yes.”

“Hmm…”

“Why you say it like that?”

“Just thinking. You wanna take a nap? The babies are still asleep.”

“Sure. Bedroom or couch?”

“Couch, it’s closer to the kitchen for when I gotta periodically check on the food.”

“Works for me.”

“When are you gonna make the pie?”

“About two hours or so before dinner, apple pie is better when it’s warm.”

“That’s true.”

“You gonna help me bake?”

“Considering my dessert resume only has pound cake on it, I’ll learn from you.”

Chris smiled then took another sip of juice.

“You and these damn smirks. What now?”

“Feisty then submissive. Just observing.”

“I am so over you right now.”

Robyn tossed the kitchen towel she was holding onto the counter and left out the kitchen with Chris’s laughter following her.

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

“Chris, what are you doing here? I thought you had a class today,” Robyn said as she opened her office door. Chris held up a to-go bag from her favorite BBQ place and smiled, “I came to have lunch with my wife and today’s my free day, remember?”

“It definitely is. Well, this is nice. I was just thinking about you.”

“You were? About what?”

Robyn shrugged her shoulders as she grabbed napkins and plastic utensils from the basket underneath her coffee table. Chris sat down on the couch next to her as she handed him some wet wipes.

“Nothing specific. You just crossed my mind.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Have you done something concerning?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t have to be concerned.”

Chris rolled his eyes and Robyn laughed, “forever the smart ass.”

“You asked. I answered. So what did you bring me to eat?”

“Chicken, hushpuppies and macaroni and cheese. Oh, and a Pepsi.”

“You are ruining my diet.”

“You aren’t on a diet.”

“Precisely my point, I can’t start with you feeding me like this.”

Chris laughed, “you don’t need to diet. As long as your doctor says you're healthy, the rest is welcomed to stay.”

“You just like my fat ass, you can say it.”

“You already did”

Robyn gasped and hit his arm, “you weren’t supposed to agree.”

“That ass is fat. I don’t know how you meant it but I know how I mean it and it’s perfect to me.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you really wanna lose weight or do you think I have a problem with your weight?”

“I don’t think you have a problem with my weight, considering how you always rubbing on my butt, hips and love handles, I’m getting the sense you’re enjoying it.”

Chris grinned at her and Robyn rolled her eyes, “but I’m still personally on the fence about it. I’m not as self-conscious but I’m still getting used to it.”

“Understandable. Well, since we’re talking about things you might still be on the fence about, I figured I’d get this question out of the way.”

“I know you are not proposing to me right now.”

“And if I was?”

“Chris, I am at work and sitting in front of you with Bbq sauce all over my hands and maybe on my face.”

Chris smiled as he used a napkin to wipe the corner of her mouth, “and you’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”

“This can’t be the moment. This is ghetto.”

Chris laughed, “This is not ghetto. This is real. This isn’t about having some spectacular story to tell because I think everything about our journey has been spectacular. I’ve always wanted to believe that you’d come back into my life and for seven years I was deathly afraid to but God and fate saw fit to bring you back to me in a manner that I never imagined. It gave us both clarity and allowed us to remedy a situation that honestly never ended, it just stopped. Robyn Rihanna Fenty Brown, I would be honored if you would be my wife again.”

“Oh my god, I need a napkin.”

Chris chuckled as he grabbed some wipes and gingerly wiped her hands, “better?”

“A little. I still think this is a bit unorthodox but...I’m completely ok with it.”

“Anything else you’re completely ok with?”

“I would absolutely love to marry you again.”

Chris grabbed her face and kissed her deeply before hugging her tightly, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now where’s my ring?”

“I don't have it.”

“How you gonna propose with no ring?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t get a ring. I said I don’t have it, meaning it’s not on my person.”

“So where is it?”

“You got it.”

“How would I have it?”

Chris smirked and Robyn hit his shoulder, “Christopher. Stop playing.”

“I’m not playing. You have your ring.”

“I did pawn our last ring.”

“I know and I wouldn’t use that one even if you did still have it.”

“Chris, where is my ring?”

Chris wiped his hands then walked over to Robyn’s desk and grabbed the new marble art piece that was sitting beside her phone. Robyn’s brow furrowed as Chris brought it over to the coffee table. She became more confused as he turned it upside down and pulled out a silicone plug. He shook it lightly and something wrapped in a white cloth fell into the palm of his hand. He placed the silicone plug back then set the art piece down on the table before turning to face Robyn. He carefully unwrapped the white cloth and a large marquise shaped diamond set into a platinum band that was covered in smaller circular diamonds glistened in his hand.

“Your hand, please?”

Robyn shakingly put out her left hand and Chirs slipped the ring onto her ring finger, “Robyn Fenty Brown, will you marry me?”

She nodded her head as she wiped the tears from falling down her face, “Christopher, it’s so beautiful.”

“I did good, huh?”

“You did but how long was that ring in that piece?”

“Since the day I mailed it to you.”

“So what would’ve happened if you proposed somewhere, not my office?”

“That was never the plan.”

“You planned this? I am not even dressed up or nothing.”

“Because I wanted it to be about us, not fancy dinners and stuff, which there is nothing wrong with, but we’ve also done that already. I thought you would appreciate me not making a huge spectacle of it.”

“I do but I’m also a little caught off-guard.”

“You just knew I was gonna propose in front of the Empire State Building or something with fireworks, huh?”

“I was anticipating it.”

Chris laughed, “are you happy?”

“I am very happy.”

“Good.”

“We’re getting married again?”

“We’re getting married again.”

“EEK!” Robyn squealed as she jumped into his lap and kissed him, “I love you, Christopher.”

“I love you too.”