#happy to report that other than getting socked in the face by a tiny girl with steel for fists

[gotham-response]

[unabashegirl]

HI!! cn u pls do one of y/n surprising harry on tour or sth and doing sth with the fans while doing so hehehe MAKE IT SUPER FLUFFY PLS KSNDJDND 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

CHOCOLATE CAKE

I sure can! I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Also, continue to SEND YOUR REQUESTS!

masterlist 

----

There he stands, hearing his name being chanted by hundredths of people but he has never felt as lonely; not even when he was single. At least then he hadn't had a taste of her. Now he is addicted to her love and her soft touch inflicted by her tiny, delicate hands. The same hands that hold him in his darkest times. And the same hands that he has held above her head when he makes sweet love to her.

Y/N is quiet, reserved — an introvert to the t. She prefers to stay home than dressing up and partying in crowded spaces. If there is one thing she enjoys the most is quietness. Perhaps that was what captivated him when he met her that afternoon at an art exhibition. He is so used to the screaming and loudness of people that he now naturally, gravitates towards the quietness. Thus, why he had stumbled into that small, serene exhibition that day. He started the conversation after noticing her admiring for far too long a single painting out of the bunch. Harry couldn't understand what she found so alluring and his curiosity got the best of him. They sat for hours on an uncomfortable bench talking about their lives as if they weren't complete strangers, but acquaintances.

Falling begins getting played by the band: an organic smile spreads across his face, product of remembering the first time that he played the album to her — in the privacy of his home. 

That day she sat on the couch with her legs crossed just after preparing herself a hot cup of tea. She wore one of his colorful jumpers and an old pair of grey pajama pants that were too big for her small frame. He would never forget the way, her eyes swelled up in tears when the last song was played. 

He’s been quiet all night and everyone has noticed. He hadn’t been his usual careless self throughout the rehearsal nor he had danced around to the music. The truth is that he hasn’t stopped thinking about her. He has been gone for far too long and it is starting to take a toll on his mental health. He misses the way she always manages to put him to sleep by just running her fingers through his hair. He misses how she always goes to bed wearing socks, yet wakes up barefoot. He misses the random conversations in bed when she can’t remember how to sleep and how she always wakes him up to a cup of tea and a minty, fresh, morning kiss.

His eyes are tightly closed with both ringed hands wrapped around the mic. His throat veins pop out as he hits the perfect note in the chorus. He knows he can’t do much about the obscure heaviness he currently feels in his heart. Nothing could ever fill the void that he feels in her absence. The only thing he is sure about is that he will never again leave her behind. He regrets the day he agreed on her staying because of work.

The melancholy song comes to an end earning quite loud cheers and howls from the crowd. He opens his eyes after taking in the last bit of his emotions. The crowd had felt his pain. They have known for a considerable amount of time, the woman that makes Harry’s knees go weak.  One afternoon a reporter had taken a picture of her getting picked up at work by Harry.  The next morning, her face was splatter everywhere. He was irate. He didn’t want to keep her hidden, but he wanted to reveal the relationship at their own time and terms. And the reporter had stolen that from them.

“What’s yeh name?” Harry asks an individual in the crowd as he approaches the edge of the stage. He knows how much fans appreciate and enjoy having some type of interaction with him. He also realizes he hasn’t been as in the moment as other times. Hence, why he is trying to make up for it. 

It takes him a few times to perceive what she is saying through the ear-piercing screams. 

“Are you sad?” A small smile appears, still surprised at the skill that the fans have developed to figure out his demeanor based on his tone and mannerisms.

“M’not” He replies, trying to hide the sun with a finger. No one in the crowd believes him especially with that little smile of his. 

Suddenly, their attention is ripped away from him. Their eyes drift back and to the side where the curtain is situated. It takes Harry a few minutes to realize that everyone’s got their attention focused on something behind him.

Y/N stands shyly a few feet away from Mitch, fiddling with her fingers. She looks tiny from where he is — adorable actually.

He is shocked — speechless even. Harry isn’t sure if he is more astounded that she has managed up the courage to appear on stage with him or that she is finally, in the same place and in the same country as him.

Meanwhile, the crowd is going crazy. They are just as shocked as Harry. Most are happy and giddy that Harry was reunited with his girl and that she had managed to surprise him. They thought it was a particularly precious gesture from her.

Y/N gives everyone a shy smile and a wave causing everyone to go nuts. It also manages to snap Harry out of his trance.

It takes him only takes four strides to stand before her.  He throws an arm over her and pulls her into a warm embrace while he holds the mic with his other hand. Harry kisses the top of her head. This is obviously not the only way he wants to greet her, but he recognizes that he is in front of a crowd with phones. He craves to kiss her but still wants to keep some grade of privacy and intimacy in his relationship. 

“Shows over. Go home” He jokes for the first time in the night. “Just kidding. This is Y/N — my girlfriend” A big smile covers his face, crow’s feet visible. She hides her blushing face with her hands. “She’s a bit shy. Aren’t you lovie?” The term of endearment is enough to cause everyone’s hearts in the arena to melt. “Anyway, I don’t think I should embarrass her any longer. Say goodbye to Y/N!” Harry asks the crowd as he escorts her off the stage. 

As soon as they are off stage, he doesn’t waste time in connecting their lips. “I love you” he mumbles one last time against her lips before running back on stage to finish his show.

Y/N watches him the rest of the night from the side of the stage. She is pretty proud of herself. She has managed to pull the whole thing through. Jeff had helped her planned it. He had arranged everything for her to fly out and arrive a few hours before the concert. Jeff had also managed to keep her hidden from Harry most of the night. 

--

Y/N sits next to him with an elbow on the table and her head resting on her hand. She knows it's not polite to have her elbows on the table at dinner, but she can’t help admiring her boyfriend. 

Harry sits beside her, his hips turned towards her even though he is talking to Mitch from across the table. His left hand resides on her thigh, holding her close while he uses his other to gesticulate. Even if it’s a habit of his to have the first buttons of his shirt undone, she can’t help admire his bare skin and the pearl necklace that wraps around his neck. 

Harry can feel her expressive eyes on him. He can slightly see her from the corner of his eye. He attempts to ignore her gaze and continues the conversation with him. Although it becomes harder to do with every passing second. 

“Stop looking at me like that” He whispers as he turns his attention momentarily to her. His grip on her thigh tightens as a warning. His tone is rough, but his cheeky smile contradicts his statement. Mitch smiles at the couple’s interaction and decides to give them a bit of privacy. Therefore, he turns to the next conversation happening beside him. 

“What are you talking about? I am not doing anything” She says just in time as dessert and coffee get served. Y/N had ordered a chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream and a cappuccino. On the other hand, Harry had ordered a double expresso and had refused to order anything else. Even though Y/N knows that he will probably end up taking most of hers. 

Harry’s hand reaches down and grips the edge of her chair, yanking it closer to him. 

“Hi” He smiles as he pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Hi” Y/N kisses the tip of his nose before turning towards her dessert.

“Lovely shirt you are wearing” Harry’s right arm wrapping around her as he leans in to kiss the skin below her ear.  He can smell the faint scent of her favorite Chanel perfume.

“Thank you. It’s my boyfriend’s actually. He is just kind enough to lend it to me” She shrugs feeding herself a mouthful of hot lava cake. She is wearing one of his white linen, button-down shirts along with her own beige skirt. The shirt seems to tie the entire outfit together. Plus, it still smells like him. It made sense at the time. This is why Y/N has been especially careful not to ruin or spill anything on the designer shirt — all night long. 

“Really?” Harry reaches out and with his thumb wipes the remaining chocolate off the corner of her bottom lip. “Lucky bastard,” he says, sucking the chocolate off his thumb. Y/N slices a piece of the dessert knowing what’s coming next. “Can I have some, lovie?” 

She giggles proceeding to feed him a spoonful of the ridiculously sweet dessert. 

“What?” 

“You always manage to steal my dessert” 

“S’not true!” Harry opposes even though he knows she is right. He doesn't fancy anything until she is already eating it. “okay. maybe a bit” it’s not until she gives him a look that he finally confesses with a mischievous smile. 

She responds by wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering near his ear an intimate ’I love you’. Harry grips her chin, giving her the proper kiss that he has been waiting all night to share with her. He can taste the combination of the sweetness of the chocolate and the bitterness of the coffee while kissing her. 

“Thank you for today. I’ll never forget this”  Harry admits with his forehead pressed against hers...

[megs-readstoomuch]

Newest installment in my “Shadowhunters: Parenthood Edition” stories. The rest can be found on AO3 HERE!!!

Happy Birthday Reesa!

Jace woke up earlier than usual. He stretched and immediately turned his head to check on Clary, as he always did when he awakened. She was still asleep, red hair fanned out on her pillow and the quietest of snores coming from her mouth. Jace grinned. She never believed him when he said she snored, but honestly, he found it adorable, so he didn’t complain that much. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment to breathe her in. He smiled and gave her one more quick, light kiss.

Jace slid quietly from the bed and went about his morning routine of shaving and dressing. As he sat to put his socks and boots on, he heard her. She was humming the lullaby Jace had played her last night before bed, as he did every night. The song his Mom had sang to him and his siblings when they were young. With a smile, Jace went into the nursery and found his daughter standing in her crib, the morning sun slowly turning the room a warm gold. Reesa’s strawberry blond curls were wild from her night’s sleep and stood out like a cloud around her head. She had a thumb in her mouth and was still humming their song, but broke into a smile when she saw Jace.

“Hi Dada!” She waved her hand excitedly as if they were seeing each other again after a long journey. Jace lifted her from the crib, kissing each cheek. She laughed and patted his face.

“How is my girl?” Jace said as he proceeded to change her sleeper. He picked out one of the bright, colorful rompers Magnus and Clary kept her closet filled with and started dressing her. She wiggled as she waited on him to finish the snaps and buttons. “Guess what Reesa?”

The little girl blinked at him in response, as he tried to tame her curls a little with the tiny hair clips Clary bought. “Today is your first birthday. It is a big day. You’ve been here with Mama and Daddy a whole year. You are one.” He surveyed his work. Dang, he was getting good at this hair thing.

“I’m one.” Reesa said, watching as he proceeded to put her shoes on. He let her fasten the Velcro tabs herself. “All done!” She held her hands out.

“Excellent work.” Jace complimented her, lifting her down off the changing table and stood her on the floor.

“Where Mama?” Reesa asked as Jace careful put her favorite old stele of his in the pocket of her romper.

“Mama is sleeping. It’s just you and me this morning.” Jace answered her. “Shall we have breakfast?” He held out his hand. She slipped a tiny soft hand into his callused, scarred one and Jace felt his heart swell again with joy over having this little girl in his life.

“Mama sleeping.” Reesa said. “Ssssh.” She twisted her face into a comical shush and pressed a finger to her lips. Jace grinned at her.

“Exactly.”

———

There were only a handful of people in the dining hall this early, as it was barely 5 o’clock. Jace liked it this way though. Mostly those present were coming in late off of patrol, bleary eyed and exhausted. But despite that, each one perked up a little at the sight of the toddler in her bright pink romper, with the butterfly clips in her hair. She always waved at everyone as she and Jace moved through to find a table to sit at.

Reesa refused a high chair on the grounds she was “nota baby”, instead kneeling in the chair next to Jace, happily eating her bacon. Jace nursed his cup of coffee and just watched her. He couldn’t believe it had been a year since she arrived. He still remembered it, he had never been so scared and happy. And now look at her. One year old.

He pushed away the ever present worry about her “Angel gifts” as the family called them. She was just one, but she functioned more like a 2yo. She was quick and smart, speaking in small sentences already. She could jump and run faster than your average child, quick with all her reflexes and motor skills too. She was also taller than average. Aside from all this and a predilection for being found constantly leaping off of the top of Jace’s baby grand and landing perfectly every time, she had yet to exhibit any other manifestations of her pure Angel blood inheritance. Jace still wondered if she would have any of Clary’s gifts. Tessa often hinted that there would be more to Reesa than she had shown them so far.

“More please.” A tiny voice cut into Jace’s thoughts. Reesa had finished her bacon and eggs and was looking expectantly at Jace. “More bacon.”

“Alright, but just two more, ok?” Jace answered her, raising up from his chair.

“Okey doke,” she said, picking her orange juice up with both hands. He chuckled.

———

Clary found them in the office after she had woken and had her own breakfast. Jace at his desk and Reesa on his lap, as usual. He was flicking through night patrol reports on his tablet and Reesa was concentrating on drawing runes on a notepad, her tiny tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Hi Mama!” Reesa cried, wiggling off of Jace’s knee to run around the desk and into Clary’s arms.

“Hi, my baby,” Clary kissed her on the cheek and then blew a raspberry against the soft skin. Reesa giggled. “Happy Birthday!”

“I’m one!” Reesa held up one finger proudly.

“Yes, you are! And we are going to have a party for you,” Clary kissed the outstretched index finger.

“A party?” Reesa crinkled her forehead in confusion.

“A party?” Jace made the same face.

Clary smiled at the resemblance. “Uncle Magnus is planning a party for your birthday. With cake!”

The one year old’s eye lit up. “CAKE!” She yelled, wiggling to be put down so she could run around her mother in a happy gallop while continuing to yell about cake.

“It will be at 5 this evening,” Clary told Jace over Reesa’s yells. “I already asked Underhill to cover your patrol so the whole family can be there.” Jace frowned a little. He hated to ask favors of the other Shadowhunters, even if he was the Co-Head of the Institute. Clary walked around the desk and sat on the arm of his chair. “It’s for Reesa’s birthday. Underhill was happy to do it. And you can cover his next patrol to make up for it, he said.”

Jace’s brow smoothed out. “Well, that does seems more fair.” Clary kissed his cheek and then leaned against him as they watched their daughter dance happily around the room.

———

“I think Magnus made the apartment bigger to fit everyone,” Alec whispered to Jace as they walked into the living room from the kitchen.

“You think? Because I don’t remember there being two bathrooms in the hallway,” Jace pointed out. “Or that hatrack. Tell me that’s not anyone we know, by the way.”

“Dang it, you’re right,” Alec agreed, ignoring the query about the hatrack and sipping from his plastic cup. He made a face. “What is this?”

“Something called punch,” Jace eyed his own pink drink warily. He didn’t like pink drinks in general . “Jocelyn insisted it is what mundanes drink at birthday parties.”

“By the Angel, why?” Alec muttered, quickly dumping the rest of the drink in the ficus behind him (that he was pretty sure hadn’t been there this morning).

“No idea,” Jace said, tossing back the last dredges in his cup and swallowing.

“You still drank it?”

Jace raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever known me to reject food or drink?”

“Fair enough,” Alec said.

Clary came over with two bottles in hand. “Here. Have some water. That punch is as gosh-awful as it was when I was kid.” The two men gratefully accepted the drinks.

A crash came from the kids’ room. The parents all turned, waiting for any cries of distress.

“Everything’s fine!”shouted Rafe. Alec raised an eyebrow.

“I think I’ll check anyway,” he shook his head and went down the now extra long hall to his sons’ room where Rafe and Max were “fighting demins”, according to Max.

Clary slid her arms around Jace’s waist and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. They looked around the room.

Jocelyn, Kadir, and Maryse were chatting in the corner, the every present dried paint visible on the back of Jocelyn’s hand and around her nails as she made a gesture in the air. Maryse nodded to whatever was being said and politely sipped from her cup, making no face but Jace knew his mother enough to see in her eyes what she thought of “punch”. He bit his lip to keep from smiling. Kadir was very focused on Jocelyn’s story, his own hands suspiciously empty.

Luke and Simon bookended the sofa, a 4-month pregnant Isabelle with the start of a baby bump sitting between them. All three were discussing a new weapon the Iron Sisters had sent to the Institute this week. Simon was particularly excited, waving his hands about. Isabelle rubbed her bump and watched him in amusement.

Tess and Jem were sitting on the loveseat, Reesa sitting on Tessa’s lap and talking with them. She was making some of the same gestures with her hands that Jocelyn was making and Tessa nodded encouragingly at her. Mina was sitting in the floor, leaning against her father’s legs with a surprisingly content Chairman Meow on her lap, bedazzling his fur with sparks of magic from her fingers.

Magnus was busily waltzing around the dining room, flashes of magic visible as he finished placing copious amounts of purple, pink, and blue streamers and balloons around a banner that said, “Happy Birthday Baby Biscuit”. Alec had gently pointed out no one else called Reesa that but Magnus had merely kissed him firmly and said, “I make the party rules.” Alec had said nothing more and left him to his decorating.

“You know,” Jace mused. “I never had family around for birthdays until I my 11th. And that wasn’t even my birthday, as we now know. And really by the time you get your first rune, it’s downplayed. Shadowhunters don’t do parties much. Just a cake if everyone is around. But the Institute was always empty. And of course I didn’t have anyone else...before. I got a gift or a wish as you know, but it wasn’t the same as this. I like this. Except maybe the punch.”

“I do too. I like birthdays. I had my first kiss on my 16th birthday, you know,” Clary gave him a saucy grin. Jace shot her a look that made her stomach flip. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“You better stop, Mrs. Herondale. I’m not a well-behaved man.” Clary giggled.

“Alright you two, stop it,” Alec rolled his eyes at them, coming down the hall with his son’s following behind him like baby ducks, each carrying a fake weapon of some sort, the two boys in their miniature gear jackets that they played in. Both their cheeks were red from their “battle” but they looked pleased with themselves.

“And the crash?” Clary asked.

“Bookshelf. Magnus will have to sort it,” Alec shook his head. Rafe and Max looked properly contrite, although Clary knew them enough to know they weren’t really. She winked at them.

“Time for cake!” Magnus announced and everyone gathered in the dining room. Reesa was given the seat of honor and a rounding chorus of “Happy Birthday” was sang. She sang along, much to everyone’s amusement.

She carefully blew out her candle, and Max relit it so he could blow it out too. Reesa found this hilarious, so Max and Mina kept relighting it until everyone had blown out the candle and Magnus finally had to remove the stub from the cake before a second round of candle blowing was started.

The cake was, of course, delicious. Magnus hinted strongly that it had came from France.

“I left money in the till,” He hastened to add before anyone said anything. “But our babies have to have the best cake.”

Clary watched as Reesa picked up her plate and licked the frosting off. “I think you chose well,” she said. Jocelyn shook her head in amusement and cleaned the chocolate off of Reesa’s nose and eyebrows.

“Bapak! Present time! Present time!” Max was bouncing in excitement as Rafe carried in the gift.

Magnus placed the brightly wrapped present in front of a wide-eyes Reesa who looked at him expectantly. “Magic?” She asked.

With a smile, Magnus snapped his fingers and the paper and ribbon unfurled to reveal a tiny gear jacket of her own. Reesa squealed. “On! Now!” She demanded.

Clary complied, slipping it over her bright pink romper and zipping it up. Reesa rubbed her hands over the jacket in amazement. Jace squatted next to her chair and adjusted the collar.

“Can you say thank you to everyone?” He prompted her gently.

“Thank you Unca Alec and Unca Magnus,” she whispered, still in awe. “And Nana and Papa and Gran’ma and Kad and Unca Simon and Ant Izzy and Max and Rafe and Jem and Nonna Tessa and Mina.” The adult all smiled as the little girl listed her whole family.

Alec smiled and knelt next to Jace. “Look,” he showed the little girl the pocket for her stele, tucking it in for her.

“You’re ready to fight now, Baby Biscuit,” Magnus said.

Max and Rafe bounced around her. “Yeah, we are all ready now!”

“Me too,” Mina cried, sending golden sparks through the air as she jumped down to dance with the boys.

“Well then, how about you all go train outside,” Magnus directed, snapping his fingers to cover every surface of the spacious balcony with large soft training mats, a low balance beam, and wooden swords. Reesa gave a suspiciously high jump off her chair and landed next to Rafe. He grabbed her hand and the four children ran outside.

———

The grownups sat down to enjoy decent, less sugary food (courtesy of Simon’s sister Rebecca’s restaurant, which Magnus used as often as he could) and watch the kids through the large windows. The punch had mysteriously disappeared (Jace wasn’t going to point fingers, but he suspected his mother had instigated a punch-removal directive to Kadir), so Magnus produced “adult drinks”.

Jace stood next to the window, watching the children play. Reesa was observing Rafe, who was showing Mina how to balance on the balance beam while holding her hand. When they were done, Reesa tried too, but refused assistance. She managed to walk it as easily as if she were on the ground and even did a large jump at the end.

“She’s good.” Jem had come up beside him, his eyes on his daughter who was comparing magic colors with Max. They were shooting little sparks in the air, and Reesa was laughing as they landed on her hair and arms.

“She is,” Jace said, a mix of pride and worry in his voice.

“Having a child with a gift you can’t exactly understand, it’s not easy,” Jem admitted. Jace looked at him, realizing Jem was a former Shadowhunter, with a half shadowhunter-half warlock wife and a child with an odd mix of warlock and shadowhunter blood.

“I don’t care about her gifts so much anymore, I just want her to be happy,” Jace said quietly. “I wasn’t, as a child. I want her to be more than just her gifts.”

“I remember you,” Jem mused. “You were the quietest, most composed, well-trained, and polite 10 year old I had ever met.”

“The ship. The attack by the werewolves on that ship the night I came to live with the Lightwoods.” Jace looked surprised. “I had forgotten, that was the first time we met, wasn’t it? I used your staff. The one with WH carved on it.”

“Yes. Your gifts were very visible that day, I just didn’t see them clearly. I’m sorry you weren’t happy, though.”

“I was later. I found part of my happiness with the Lightwoods. And the rest,” Jace’s eyes searched out Clary, laughing with Tessa and her mother near the fireplace. “The rest with Clary. And now with Reesa.”

“I understand,” Jem replied. And he did. He knew the fulfillment of happiness that came with love. With Will, with Tessa, with Mina and Kit. He saw that same completion in Jace now, what had been missing all those years ago when he had been the solemn and determined child with those golden eyes and that Herondale recklessness that had reminded Jem of Will even then.

The two men watched as Mina and Reesa joined hands to run away from Max and for a moment, it seemed like Reesa’s eyes glimmered and Mina’s fingers sparked a brighter gold and they seemed to be moving faster than they should have been. He blinked and it was gone. Jace’s brow was slightly furrowed , as if he had seen something as well.

“I think...those two may be trouble together,” Jem said.

“A Herondale and a Carstairs? Definitely. I’ve heard the stories from Tessa.” Jace laughed and Jem joined him.

“Oh yes. Will and I.” Jem smiled at the memories. “Will and Tessa’s daughter Lucie, her parabatai was also a Carstairs. Their son’s was a Fairchild.”

“Herondales, Carstairs, Lightwoods, and Fairchilds. Chaos and mayhem since the beginning, is what you’re saying?” Jace queried.

“Yes,” Jem confirmed. The two men stood in silence for a moment, watching the children play.

“Mundanes have gifted children too, you know.” Jem murmured. “But I think it means they are better at things like math and reading.” Jace looked bemused at this. Reesa turned and saw him watching her. She waved. He waved back.

“I can’t wait to see what they do,” Jace said softly. Jem nodded in agreement.

“I think,” Jem paused as Reesa and Mina joined hands again, their black and golden-red heads bent together to listen to Rafe and Max. “I think they’ll change the world.”

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

4 with reddie?

4. Teacher/Single Parent AU

* * * * *

Richie had been an elementary school teacher for five years now and he had had his fair share of crazy kids and kids who were absolutely amazing. Yet, none of them quite stood out to him in the way that Lacey Kaspbrak did. She was a spunky, yet shy little girl who was also very smart and could learn something on the spot. She was always willing to learn new things, even if she didn’t understand at first, which Richie was in awe of. Lacey wouldn’t give up easily.

One of the things that Richie absolutely hated though, was the way Lacey was bullied. He had reported it many times, even spoken to the youngster privately about coming to him if she felt unsafe, but she never did. Richie knew it was because the girls who were tormenting her were threatening to make things worse if she ratted on them.

He had even tried to catch them out in the act, but was either too slow, too fast or there wasn’t enough evidence to report the incident. It was all very frustrating, as they were eight years old. No eight year old should be bullying, or getting bullied, it was as simple as that.

When the first parent/teacher conference rolled around, Richie was more than ready to discuss the incidents with Lacey’s parents, to ask if they had noticed anything at home or if Lacey had mentioned anything to them about troubles at school. He had all the paperwork sat out of his desk when the door knocked and a man, no older than him, walked in. He looked rather flushed in the face and the first thing that came to Richie’s mind when he got a proper look was; Fuck, that man is cute! Cute, cute, cute!

“I’m so sorry I’m late Mr Tozier, I had to drop Lacey off and then there was traffic. I hope I didn’t hold you back too much?” The man stammered out and Richie’s eyes widened just a little bit more. Oh no, oh god no. This was Lacey’s dad? Fuck, this wasn’t good.

Regaining composure, Richie cleared his throat and shook his head, motioning to the seat across from his desk, “Not at all, please take a seat.” He waited until he was seated across from him and smiled, “Mr Kaspbrak…”

“Eddie, please.” Eddie interrupted, a smile on his own face. “I hate it when people call me my last name. Please just call me Eddie.” He rested his arms on the desk and took a breath. “How has Lacey been? I haven’t had any calls about her, so I’m assuming everything has been okay with her schooling?”

Richie tensed a little and he bit his lip, “I was hoping to be able to talk to you, not about Lacey’s schooling as she is the smartest girl in her class and is always willing to learn, but about some issues between her and her peers.” He watched as Eddie’s face fell a little and he quickly continued, “Have you noticed anything in Lacey’s behaviour since the beginning of the school year?”

“Not...not that I am aware of,” Eddie whispered, shaking his head, a pained look on his face. “What’s been going on? Please tell me, I need...I need to know what’s going on with my little girl.” Richie felt his heart ache at the sight of Lacey’s dad looking so...distraught at the thought of his daughter being tormented.

It took a few moments of composure before Richie began to explain the ins and outs of what had been happening in his classroom. He also explained that he had tried on many attempts to report it to higher management, but there simply was not enough proof. “She’s strong, Eddie,” Richie finally breathed. “I can see that she doesn’t want to let them bother her, but I can also see that it does. A teacher shouldn’t have favourites, but I have a soft spot for Lacey, and I want her to be happy in my class.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment before he ran his fingers through his hair, “Things haven’t exactly been easy for us...ever. I’m not sure if you were made aware of our situation when Lacey transferred here?” He asked and Richie shook his head in a negative. “Lacey’s mother didn’t want her when she was born, and I was with my ex husband at the time, we were young and naive and she was a friend of a friend. So we offered to adopt her. Everything went swimmingly and Lacey became a part of our family...of my family. My ex didn’t really want anything to do with her, and I soon found out it was because he was seeing someone else behind my back. It was tough, and ugly, but we got a divorce with me gaining full custody of Lacey.” Eddie took another breath. “She was young, but these things stay with you no matter what and I’m sure it couldn’t be difficult for the other children’s parents to find out Lacey was being raised by an openly gay man.”

That seemed to strike a chord with Richie, and he felt a little sick. Slowly, he placed his hands on the table and tried to force a smile onto his face. “Well, I certainly hope that isn’t the case, considering their children are being taught by an openly gay man.”

Eddie’s eyes widened a little and he leaned back on the chair, “I see.” He pursed his lips. “You’ll take care of her...right? When she’s in your class? You’ll look out for her.”

Richie nodded his head, “Of course I will.” This time his smile was genuine. “Put it like this, Eddie, if Lacey was to snap and actually hit one of those kids? I will just so happen to be looking the other way at that time, leaving no credible witnesses.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Eddie and Richie felt a sense of pride and he had managed to turn his frown upside down. “You know, Lacey talks about you all the time. I was honestly a little nervous about meeting the infamous Mr Tozier. She has never had a relationship with any of her previous teachers like she does with you.”

“Well then, it must be my amazing charm and my skill with sock puppets,” Richie winked and Eddie burst into laughter. “If you want...and feel free to say no, but we can always meet up occasionally. To talk about Lacey and her progress. Over coffee maybe?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Sounds like you're asking me out on a date, Mr Tozier.”

Shaking his head, Richie leaned a tiny bit closer, “Not at all, this is highly professional. Anyway, I can't date the parents of my students.”

“Ahh,” Eddie nodded his head slowly before pushing the chair back. It was the end of the session and Richie had another three parent’s to see that night. “Well, I’ll think about it.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper, scribbling something down. His number. “It was nice to meet you, Mr Tozier.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Eddie. All mine.”

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @feldmancorey @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kaspzier @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster  @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead @xcottoncandykatx 

[star-spangled-steve]

His New Partner

Chapter 25: The Wedding Day

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1470

Warnings: Fluff, marriage.

Audio: “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers

A/N: So, this chapter doesn’t exactly have a huge conflict or main idea, I just wanted to give you guys a little glimpse of their big day. Also, Y/M/N means Your Mom’s Name and Y/D/N means Your Dad’s Name. Enjoy this short part!

Y/N sighed as she stared in the full-length mirror, running her hands down the satiny smooth skirt of her wedding gown. She let her fingertips wander to the bodice and proceeded to stoke up and down its length; almost as if she was testing if it was real or not.

The girl could hardly believe that she was finally getting married to the Captain America, the love of her life. After over a year of planning, organizing, arguments, and Steve forcing her to take sleeping pills in order to relax, the big day had finally arrived.

Dozens, possibly hundreds of news reporters and paparazzi were crowded outside, waiting for hours to even get one shot of the happy couple. After all, it was the wedding of one of the world’s favourite Avengers and one of the most popular actresses in the industry; the event would make for some great headlines. Steve and Y/N were basically American royalty, and everybody knew it.

Just take deep breaths, the bride told herself as suspense for the ceremony continued to grow. Her five bridesmaids, including her trusty Maid of Honour, were completely finished getting ready. They were now just helping Y/N finish up, tweaking her hair and smoothing out her dress.

“Five minutes.” Maria stated after checking the clock, walking up to the mirror in which the bride was facing. “You excited?” She questioned with a grin, placing her hands on Y/N’s bare shoulders.

The girl in white puffed out a breath, staring at her and Maria’s reflections. “Ya, ya.” She gulped. “A bit nervous too, if I’m being honest.”

“Relax, N/N.” Y/C/N spoke from across the room, reapplying her face powder.

Natasha nodded while adjusting the straps of her soft gold dress. “It’s ‘gonna be easy.”

Y/N hummed before turning around to face her friends, as well as her mother, who was currently having a chat with Pepper on one of the little plush benches. “D-Do I look okay?” She asked somewhat shyly. Even though Y/N had millions of fans across the globe constantly raving about how pretty she was, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t be self-conscious every now and then.

“Are you kidding?” Y/F/N chimed in. “You look so stunning!”

Y/M/N stood up and walked closer to the group. Pepper followed as well, all of the women now standing in a small circle around the puffy wedding dress. “So beautiful, Y/N.” The older woman smiled, feeling incredibly proud of her daughter.

“Let me just tell you,” Pepper fondly shook her head, “you’re going to knock Steve’s socks off.”

The actress laughed in delight.

“She’s serious, sweetie.” Natasha, the Maid of Honour, added. “That man worships you when you wear sweatpants. I can’t wait to see what his reaction will be to this getup.” She smirked, gesturing to the beautiful white gown that looked just exquisite on the girl.

Y/N spun around on the spot, giving everybody in the room a 360-degree view. Her dress was stark white and in the style of a ball gown; tight to her torso and extremely wide around the bottom. It was off-the-shoulder, a very tiny v-cut in the middle of her chest, and the outside layer was made of pure satin. Tons and tons of tulle was underneath, completely hiding Y/N’s tall white stilettos. She felt straight out of a fairytale.

“He’s a very lucky man.” Y/M/N commented before pulling her daughter into a gentle hug, still being mindful of the fancy attire.

Y/N smiled, rubbing a hand up and down her mother’s back. “Thank you, mom.”

Their precious moment was interrupted by a sudden knock on the dressing room door. “N/N?” A voice spoke from behind it, a voice that they instantly recognized to be the bride’s father. The women all looked towards each other, holding a breath as they waited to hear what he had to say. “It’s time.”

*****

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The ultimate, determinant words were spoken, and the couple gave each other bright smiles. Steve squeezed Y/N’s hands affectionately as small tears streamed down their faces. “You may kiss the bride!”

The guests erupted with applause as the pair leaned in, lips touching in a soft kiss. Steve placed his arms around Y/N’s torso and actually dipped her back for with excitement, just making the cheers and hollers from the audience become much louder.

The girl laughed as they stood up straight again, still in each other’s hold. Even though the room was filled with over a hundred different people, Y/N and Steve still felt like the only ones present. They were completely lost in each other’s eyes, each other’s arms.

The moment was pure bliss.

*****

“Let us welcome for the very first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Steven and Y/N Rogers!”

Once again, the entire group of company began to clap and cheer in support. They watched as the newlyweds came through the large doors and headed farther into the fancy reception hall, huge smiles on their faces. They saw how the man twirled his wife around while they walked, his eyes never straying from her beautiful form. It was completely apparent to everyone how completely in love with each other they were. People could tell that what they had would last forever.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom will now have their first dance. If you would please all gather round the dance floor and show your support for the happy couple.”

The room went silent in anticipation, until the live band began to play first couple beats of ‘Unchained Melody’ by The Righteous Brothers. All of Steve and Y/N’s friends were aware of how it was ‘their song’, or something like that. Ever since three years earlier when she had sung it for him in the living room of her old apartment, the man had been completely in love with its tune, its tempo, and its sensuality. He just adored holding Y/N while it played.

“Oh, my love, my darling

I've hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time”

Steve brought the girl closer, right hand on her waist and left hand clasping her own right one. He began to sway them back and forth to the beat of the song, eyes never leaving her’s.

“Time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Are you still mine?”

One moment Y/N was held tightly to Steve’s body, and the next he was spinning her outwards, making her giggle in response. He quickly brought her back to his chest, hands grasping her torso even tighter than before.

“I need your love

I need your love

God speed your love to me”

The actress laid her head on her husband’s chest, feeling the beat of his super soldier heart underneath her right cheek. It was racing fast, and she had no doubt that it mirrored her own.

“Lonely rivers flow

To the sea, to the sea

To the open arms of the sea

Lonely rivers sigh

‘Wait for me, wait for me’

I'll be coming home, wait for me”

Steve rested his chin on the top of Y/N’s head and smiled to himself. “You look so beautiful, babydoll.” He spoke quietly. “Did I tell you that already?”

His wife grinned into his tuxedo jacket. “Multiple times, Stevie.”

The Captain lightly shrugged as he led her around the dance floor. “Well, it’s true. You look like a pretty princess.”

“Oh, my love, my darling

I've hungered, for your touch

A long, lonely time

Time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Are you still mine?”

Y/N lifted her head to get a look at her man’s face, and he lowered it, making their foreheads touch. They could feel one another’s hot breath over their skin, and the air was electrified with passion. They had extremely intense looks on their faces; almost as if they were about to explore the great unknown that was each other. If it wasn’t for the classy wedding attire, you might even suspect that they were about to go in for their first kiss.

“I need your love”

Steve’s crystal blue eyes lowered to Y/N’s rosy pink lips, wanting yet another taste. No matter how many times they had touched mouths, neither of them had ever gotten enough of the sensation.

“I need your love”

The girl’s tongue traced the bottom of her teeth, knowing exactly what Steve had wanted.

“God speed your love to me.”

She did what any reasonable wife would do and leaned up, sealing their lips together in a chaste kiss. This just made their friends and family whistle, especially when her husband’s hands rose to either side of her head, locking her in place. But it’s not like he really needed to; Y/N was never going anywhere.

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!❤️

[flopgoblins]

Unconventional

Or: 3 weddings and a funeral. Weird things happen when you’re a celebrity. Mostly at conventions.

1. Katya

The girl was wearing Halley High knee socks and the ubiquitous plaid cheer skirt that Katya hadn’t felt the same about since Matt’s story about what happened after the cross-dressing photoshoot. The pigtails were a given. The extensions were off the rack, but the eyeliner was applied straighter than Katya could ever manage herself, and she told the girl so, eliciting a flustered giggle and a babble of thanks. Katya was glad she’d held herself back from making a joke about how hard it was for her to do anything straight, since it would have killed her publicist and made the girl turn an even brighter red. Plus, she’d stolen the line from Matt.

The boy was rather less effectively dressed as Wally, complete with cheap red wig, and Katya refused to examine him any further than that after feeling the bulge in his pocket when he hugged her for the photo opp. It wasn’t the first time, but it never got any less gross. At least he hadn’t made any comments about how hot it would be to see her and his girlfriend make out in matching outfits, but-

“Vanessa, there’s something I need to ask you. Um, and hopefully Katya doesn’t mind.”

Oh god.

Katya turned, ready to signal to the assistant standing off to the side of the backdrop, but then she realized the faux Wally was kneeling. The bulge in his pocket was gone, and in his hand was a small black box.

Katya let out an involuntary cackle of laughter, and clapped her hands over her mouth. Almost as mortifying as an erection in JCPenney khakis, but tragically longer lasting.

Next to her, the girl in pigtails burst into tears.

“Will you marry me?”

What followed was the predictable flurry of snotty affirmations, damp selfies, and fans still waiting in line craning their necks to see what the holdup was. Katya made as many exclamations of delight as she felt she could before warranting a SAG award, and then hustled the enfianced couple towards the exit.

But first….

“Wink twice if you need a way out,” Katya whispered to the still tremulous girl as she hugged her. “Totally understand if you only said yes because of the circumstances, it was a super weird position for him to put you in. And me. Romantic, of course. Sort of. But I can get you out the back door if you need an escape. No? Sure? Okay. Congratulations.” She released the girl, blew a kiss with a spangle-nailed hand, and turned to greet the next group.

“Oh hey! So great to meet you! You will not believe what happened with the last people who came through…”

2. Nico

Nico was still new enough to it that the meet and greets were both novel and incredibly weird. Matt and Katya didn’t even seem to register them anymore, viewing them with about the same lassitude they viewed comicon panels or table reads, but since Nico found panels and reads pretty fucking exciting, photo opps were still a definite thing. And, like having strangers touch your hair and face every morning to get you camera ready, a definite mixture of cool and intensely bizarre. He wasn’t sure if it was weirder to have people paying actual money to meet him - and hug him, and sometimes burst into tears - or to call him by Jack’s name instead of his own.

“You get paid either way,” Matt said, who’d just been Wally’d no fewer than a dozen times.

“Yeah, but,” said Nico, “they know we’re not them, right?”

Matt gave him a gentle, pitying smile, and then both were dragged off for the next round.

After some time, Nico got into the flow of it. He could almost always find something to compliment fans on - their costumes, or their memory for Halley High lore, on which he could generally go toe-to-toe, or their ability to quote his lines back to him word perfect. Katya and Matt had described all of it as vaguely awkward and mostly boring, but Nico liked it, up until the point something happened that he was pretty sure they’d been lying to him about.

‘At some point,’ Matt had said, ‘They’ll do something weird in front of you.’

‘Yeah,’ said Katya. ‘Like get you to roleplay with them.’

‘Or propose,’ said Matt.

‘Aw, fuck off,’ said Nico, who was used to them messing with him at this point.

“Sasha,” said the girl with purple streaks in her hair. “I’m asking you here, in the sight of the greatest thespian of our generation, to do me the very great honor-”

“Oh!” said Nico, and covered his mouth.

“Oh, Fern!” said Sasha, whose shirt proclaimed her a member of Wallack Nation.

“-of marrying me.”

Nico moved his hands from his mouth to his eyes as Sasha flung herself into Fern’s arms. “Oh wow! Oh my gosh!” He uncovered his eyes, saw tongue, and covered them again.

“Oh my god! Did you know that was gonna happen? Holy sh- Wow! Uh. It feels weird that I’m here. Should I leave? Kelsi, please don’t charge them the $75 for the photo opp, this one’s on me. Seriously, should I leave?”

3. Jordie

The rest of them always wrapped up meet and greets before Jordie did. Part of this was because Jordie was bad at ending conversations, and tended to let fans run riot over him, killing the time limit and the event manager’s soul. The rest of it was because Jordie’s line of fans was twice as long as anyone but Matt’s, and Jordie hated turning anyone away.

“Look on my works, ye mighty,” murmured Matt, forty-five minutes after the rest of them had finished and were still waiting for Jordie to re-emerge. He flipped his wrist, looked at his watch, and tilted against the wall. “And despair. I have seen the future, and it is blond, peppy, and nineteen.”

Katya was scrolling the #jordieswiftsdcc tag and perusing selfies from the line. “This person waited two hours to see him and is pretty much creaming herself for the opportunity. This person waited three hours and is getting his signature tattooed on her wrist. And this one looks like he’s had some minor plastic surgery to look more like him.”

“Jesus,” said Nico, horrified. He knew they sometimes forgot that their little cast member, who tended to have half the screentime and a third the lines the rest of them did, was not only a fan favorite but had amassed 5 million subscribers on YouTube for a reason. “Poor Jordie.”

Katya clicked ‘report’ on a Tweet that Nico couldn’t read beyond the handle, which was @jordieswift_tongue_my_taint. She slid her phone into her back pocket and tilted against the wall next to Matt. “Competition, Tiny. Your agency is gonna have a cow if he starts to surpass you.”

Matt curled his lip in what might have been a smirk. “My agency should just sign him and turn me out to stud.”

Katya slid down the wall until she was squatting on her heels, fringe from her boho vest brushing the floor. She dragged her finger through the dust on the ground. “Tiny ginger babies cropping up in pastures everywhere next spring. Seabiscuit, out of Georgina, by Matt.”

Matt prodded her until she tipped off her heels and sprawled on the floor. “I’m happy to sell my semen but if they actually need me to mount anyone-”

“Guys, please,” said Nico. He was getting antsy, ready to go get dinner, and bouncing a little on his toes to keep himself awake. “There are kids around. Maybe less with the semen?”

Matt dodged Katya’s attempt to pull herself up on his ankle. “How about the mounting, is the mounting okay?”

Katya grinned from the floor. “Oh, I’m sure Nico’s okay with you mounting-”

Matt yawned. “Where the hell is Jordie?” he said. “Seriously, they’re shutting down the venue any minute now.”

“Let’s go look,” said Katya, and clambered upright, scooping up her purse in one hand and Nico’s arm in the other.

Jordie was down to the last fan, but it was immediately clear why it was running over time. It wasn’t just a matter of exceeding the allotted five minutes so much as a ‘death do us part’ thing, given the fact the fan was down on one knee and Jordie looked about 30 seconds away from a nervous breakdown.

“Oh dear,” said Matt. “They got him.”

“I’ll call security,” said Katya.

Nico ignored them both and dashed towards the unfolding scene, where Jordie was babbling helplessly.

“Wait, me? You’re asking me? Oh no! I thought this was about - I thought you were going to propose to someone el- Please stop kneeling. I have - Listen, I have a- Okay, my agent didn’t tell me what to do if this happened? I think my contract says no. I’m sorry! Okay, please don’t - um, please don’t - ”

Nico took one look at the ardent worship on the fan’s face and their outstretched hand, one look at the panic in Jordie’s eyes, and leapt into the fray. “Whoa, hey. Yo! I object!”

“Wh?” said Jordie.

“I’m so sorry,” said Nico, grabbing Jordie’s arm and securing him protectively against his side. “I’m so sorry, but he can’t marry you. Bigamy’s illegal, you see, and he’s already engaged.”

“He is?” said the fan blankly. Nico could almost see them scrolling Jordie’s Wikipedia page in their mind, searching for the ‘personal life’ section.

“I am?” said Jordie, looking as terrified as if he’d actually forgotten.

The fan’s mental scroll had clearly come up blank because their eyes narrowed. “To who?”

“Whom,” said Nico, because children of English professors never missed a cue. “Uh.” He hadn’t thought this all the way through, but realized at once he couldn’t go for his first instinct and throw Katya under the bus. For one thing, it would only encourage the #katyathecougar hashtag, and for another, she might hurt him. He’d deserve it, too. “To me, of course.”

“Wh?” said Jordie.

“Come along, dumpling,” said Nico, and swept him away.

Katya and Matt watched as Nico hustled them both through an ‘emergency exit only’ door, Matt with arms folded, Katya with her phone still out and security ringing through on the other end.

“Well,” said Matt. “If Jack/Silas wasn’t a thing before, it sure as hell will be now. Quick, Kat, bookmark the tag on AO3.”

“Be honest, Matty,” said Katya, as con organizers descended on the still-kneeling fan. “You’re a leettle bit jealous that Jordie got the proposal before you did.”

“I’ve been proposed to no less than five times, Kit-Kat.”

“But never,” said Katya, with a sly smirk. “By Nico Martin.”

4. Matt

The woman clutched a silver urn in one hand and Matt’s fingers in the other. It had been at least five minutes and Matt’s smile was at risk of becoming a rictus, so he changed it to a look of quiet sympathy.

“He would have loved to meet you,” said the woman, pressing Matt’s hand even tighter. “Gloucester Lost was his favorite movie. And we had the box set of NICU: NYC. Watched it nightly.”

“I’m so glad he liked it,” said Matt. He eyed the urn, in which resided the last earthly remains of Milton Heslop, apparently Matt’s biggest fan. His agent would not be pleased to know that one of Matt’s most dedicated viewers was dust, but he supposed this was what came of approaching thirty. An aging fanbase was just what a turn on Halley High was supposed to prevent, but he supposed a woman holding her dead husband was better than yet another red wig and loosely glued protuberance. “Would you like a picture?”

“I’ve been going to all his favorite places,” said the woman, still latched to Matt’s hand like she was one of the parasite wasps from episode five and he was - well, himself. “I scattered some of his ashes at Yosemite, and some at Dollywood. He always wanted to see the Space Needle, but they wouldn’t let me through the metal detector. I thought of the beach at Gloucester, of course, where Vincent tried to drown himself, but-”

But that particular beach didn’t exist, since they’d done all their shooting in Rhode Island for tax reasons.

“-but then I thought I could do one better.”

“A photo?” said Matt again, a little desperately. The pill he taken with breakfast - ‘breakfast’ might have been a generous description, but with his morning coffee and kahlua, anyway - was wearing thin, and he would have given a finger for the chance to smoke a cigarette. Going cold turkey this week had been a mistake, no matter how much he liked being able to kiss Nico without brushing his teeth first. “We can take a - There’s a photographer right - ma’am, do you-”

She’d finally let go of his hand and was busily unscrewing the top of the urn.

“Ma’am,” said Matt, but he didn’t leap back in time. Slowed reflexes, another sin imparted by the cold turkey.

“This is for you, Milton,” said the woman sorrowfully, and upended the urn at Matt’s feet.

“Well,” said Matt later, brushing grey dust off his lapels, “I’ve had two proposals and one break-up at fan events, but I can say that was my first consecration of human remains. Slightly less awkward than the proposals, honestly. Kelsi, do you have a wet wipe? Or a vacuum?”

As the event manager hurried over with some hand sanitizer and a damp paper towel, Matt shot a glance at Katya, who was shaking helplessly in the corner with tears streaming down her face. “Kitty, if you don’t get me something to smoke and I mean now, I’m doing to sneeze Milton all over your McQueen.”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up at the crematorium,” said Katya, and dissolved into laughter once again.

[katsens-writing]

Holiday Headache

A/N: Sorry this is so very late guys. I’ve been getting adjusted to my new job and new work schedule. This is a little piece I wrote for @bitchassbucky‘s holiday writing challenge. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, so I’m a little out of practice. I hope you enjoy it and if you want to be added to my Marvel taglist or any of my taglists, just send me an ask or shoot me a message! (To anyone who read it, the epilogue to See You Again is coming soon I promise. Thank you to all for bearing with me!!)

Content: Loads of fluff and a little bit of harmless mischief.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader if you squint

Word Count: About 1.8k

Masterlist   Buy me a coffee? :)

~

     “No, Peter, on the other side, next to Pepper,” you directed. “That’s it. Harley! Stop messing with your sweater and hold still!”     “Why am I doing this again?” Harley complained, pulling on his itchy sweater. It was green with shiny, silver tinsel-thread glinting throughout it.     Pepper sighed and rolled her eyes, explaining for the hundredth time. “It’s for the Avengers’ latest public campaign to wish everyone a safe holiday season.”

     “Again, why am I doing this?” Harley grumbled flatly. “I’m not an Avenger.”     “You’re doing this because it’s a family photo and you’re part of this madness, kid,” Clint grinned as he straightened his elf ears.     Harley’s brow furrowed and his jaw fell open indignantly. “I never signed up for any of this!” He protested.     Maria gave an explosive, exasperated sigh and turned to the young man. “Harley, so help me if you don’t stop whining I’ll web your mouth closed!” She gritted, pointing to the web-shooter on Peter’s wrist. Peter snickered, glancing at Harley.     Happy turned to Peter, narrowing his eyes. “And if you don’t stop moving I’ll web you to a chair.” Peter’s face fell and Harley smirked. Happy rolled his eyes. “I swear, Morgan should be babysitting you two.”     The two boys frowned and looked down at the little girl in front of them. Morgan just looked up at her brothers and gave them the brightest, most angelic smile, her curled, brown hair hanging down her shoulders and down to the big, golden ribbon tied in a bow on her back. Her eyes sparkled in the soft glow of icicle lights decorating the mantle behind them.     “Well, why isn’t Y/N in the picture then, huh?” Harley retorted, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. He swore Morgan’s smile was hypnotic. If you weren’t careful you’d end up taking her to the International Spy Museum, something Pepper had forbidden after the last time Natasha babysat her. The last time someone stared at her smile for too long, Morgan was seconds away from convincing Bucky to steal her a panda from the National Zoo.     “Hey, someone has to take the picture!” You grinned, looking over the top of the camera on its stand at Harley. He opened his mouth to protest but you had already shifted your attention back to the rest of the group. “Peter, scoot a little to your left, I want to be able to see your whole sweater. I’m no expert but I know the menorah has more than six candles. There you go, perfect! Wanda, step back a little... a little more... right there, stop! Good.”     As you continued moving everyone around and giving directions, you didn’t notice Tony watching you closely. You told everybody that you needed to take the picture, saying you had an eye for things like that. That part was true, but in reality, you had offered to take the picture when you overheard Tony and Pepper discussing the campaign the week before. Tony had plenty of gadgets that could have taken it, but you seemed excited about the idea, so he agreed. Now though, Tony suspected there was a reason you didn’t want to be in the picture and he thought he might know why.     Tony sighed. You had only joined the team a few months ago, but anyone on the outside wouldn’t have known. You got along great with everyone around the compound, connecting with them right away. It may have only been a few months, but already he couldn’t imagine what the team would be like without you, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.     At the Avengers’ holiday party last week, you spent most of the night sitting at the bar in the ballroom, talking with Maria and Pepper. Whenever the team went out after a successful mission, you usually stayed behind, volunteering to do the report for SHIELD. Whenever they had nights in, you’d slip off to your room when you thought no one would notice. It seemed no matter how well you got along with the team, you felt like you didn’t belong. Tony could understand why you might feel that way but he really wished you didn’t. He’d been reading your file since you joined the team. He hadn’t finished it yet, but he knew if anyone deserved to feel like they belonged somewhere, it was you. Tony shook his head lightly as your voice broke through his thoughts.     “Vision, if you could--”     A snickering caught your attention and you turned to glare at Sam and Steve, laughing on either side of an irritated Bucky. You crossed your arms and glared at them. “Am I gonna have to separate you three?”     “No, you won’t,” Steve answered quickly.     “Sorry, Y/N,” Sam apologized. “Bucky was just saying how the picture would look better with you in it.” Bucky elbowed him in the ribs, his face reddening slightly. Steve snorted.     “Oh, I don’t know,” you replied teasingly, peering through the lens and hoping the camera hid the light blush forming on your cheeks. “I don’t think I could top Santa’s reindeer.”     Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly and Bucky smirked to himself.     “Hey!” Sam protested, lifting his hands to adjust his antlers. “I’ll have you know, we are Santa’s best-looking reindeer.”     “You know, they’ve got a point,” Tony spoke up, giving you a slight start. He had barely said a word since you started arranging everyone for the photo. “Not about the reindeer thing,” Tony rolled his eyes. “But you really should be in the picture. You are an Avenger after all, and part of the Avengers family.”     “Thank you!” Harley threw his hands up in exasperated vindication.     Your cheeks flushed a little, lowering your eyes. “No, I’m fine, really. Someone has to take the picture and besides, nobody would know who I am.”     Rhodey snorted and jerked a thumb at Scott. “You think they know who he is?”     “Oh, come on man!” Scott whined, the tiny bells on his hat jingling as he tipped his head back in frustration. “I turned into a freaking giant, multiple times even!”     Bruce shook his head with a reluctant sigh. “This is why I don’t do group pictures.”     “Come on guys! I would like to be done sometime before New Year’s.” Natasha groaned.     “Natasha is right,” Thor agreed. “The sooner we get this picture done, the sooner we can get out of these uncomfortable clothes.” He scrunched his face as he pulled at the collar on his sweater.     “Hey now, I think you look very handsome in that Christmas tree sweater,” you chided with a grin. How Tony had managed to convince everyone to dress up for the picture you would never understand, although judging by his, Pepper’s and Morgan’s regular dress clothes, you suspected there may have been a misunderstanding somewhere along the line...     You scanned over the group one more time, eyes narrowed in focus. “Okay... I think that’s it. Now everyone, smile!” You grinned in emphasis as you spoke the last word. “Hold it...” After a few seconds, the camera flashed. “Ok.”     Everyone sighed, their muscles relaxing. “It’s about time,” Harley grumbled. Maria rolled her eyes.     “Wait...” The chatter fell as everyone froze and turned to look at you. Harley’s face darkened with a look of murder on his face. “We need to take one more, Scott blinked,” you continued. A collective groan came from the group and Hope elbowed Scott in the ribs. “And Rhodey, stop acting like Clint’s ears poked you in the eye!” You scoffed, glaring at the two.     “Hey!” Clint’s brow furrowed as he turned to Rhodey.     “That’s what you get for saying my Kwanzaa socks don’t count as dressing up!” Rhodey countered.     “Nobody can see ‘em!”     You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed before shaking your head. While you were distracted by all the bickering and squabbling, Tony leaned forward and whispered something in Peter’s ear, all the while keeping an eye on you. Peter’s eyes widened a fraction as he sat up straight with the faintest nod and a small glint of excitement in his eye.     You straightened and smoothed out your red and white striped dress before clearing your throat. “Ok guys, one more time. Five seconds, ok?” your eyebrows arched. “Just keep it together for five more seconds. You guys ready?”     After a few seconds of shuffling and murmuring, Tony answered. “I think we’re ready, Y/N.” He and Peter exchanged a quick glance while you set the timer on the camera.     “Ok, five...” In a flash a web shot out and wrapped around your wrist, catching you by surprise. “Wha-- woah!” Before the cry left your throat, you were yanked forward. Narrowly missing the camera, the force of the pull spun you around as you stumbled into the group... and right into Bucky.     On instinct, Bucky threw his arms up to steady you and ended up catching just as you tumbled into him. “You ok?” he asked as you looked up and shook the hair out of your face. Flustered, you opened your mouth to answer but you were cut off.     “You’d better smile Y/N, ‘cause I’m not standing for another pic!” Harley gritted through a forced smile. Shocked, you turned to face the camera just as it flashed. Once your eyes adjusted again, you stood up to straighten yourself out.     Bucky lowered his arms awkwardly, letting them fall to his side before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, sorry.”    “It’s ok,” you replied flustered, quickly tucking your chin to hide your embarrassment and your blushing cheeks.     Bucky looked at you in confusion. “You ok?” he asked again. “What happened?”     As you straightened your dress you noticed the web tangled around your bracelet. You frowned and turned to Peter but before you could say anything to him, Tony interrupted. “Let’s check out the picture, huh?” he suggested.     “And that’s my cue,” Harley spoke up as he made for the exit. “I need to stop by the library before it closes for the holidays.”     “I’ll come with you,” Peter offered a little too quickly. “Happy Holidays everyone!” He called over his shoulder as he followed Harley to the door.     You watched him with narrowed eyes before shaking your head with a sigh. You walked over to the camera and with a few taps you brought the picture up. “Wow,” your eyes widened. “That’s--”     “Not bad,” Tony peered over your shoulder. “Not bad at all actually.”     You turned to him incredulously. “Are you kidding? It’s terrible! My hair alone--”     Tony grabbed the camera out of your hand and started toward his office. “Hey FRIDAY, remind me to send this to the ad agency first thing tomorrow.”     You blinked, stunned, as Tony walked away with the camera. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly again as he looked at you, wincing sympathetically.     “At least it’s only for the holidays,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away, rolling your eyes resignedly. “I’m already gonna be out of town. I’ll just extend my trip through New Year’s.”

~

Tags: @bla-369 @myworstdays @parkerspicedlatte

~

[gratsustingue-the-ot4]

Stinggratsu with angst prompt #42...?

Anonymous said:  If you’re still accepting Angst/Fluff prompts, how about: “I wanted to apologize.”?

I got both prompts into one fic, hope you enjoy! 

you are the best thing that’s ever been mineauthor: @splendidlyimperfect

Gray’s having a bad day, and Natsu’s music choices are making it worse.

—–

Natsu kicks Rogue in the shin as the front door of the apartment opens.

“Shhh,” he whispers, pulling the duvet up over both of them. “He won’t sing if he thinks we’re awake.”

Rogue frowns at Natsu but closes his eyes, and Natsu tucks his arm under his pillow and settles into a pretend sleep.

The bedroom door creaks open and Natsu hears Sting step into the room, humming quietly under his breath. The smell of fresh laundry hits Natsu as Sting sets the basket down on the end of the bed, then starts to pull things out and fold them.

Rogue twitches next to Natsu and Sting stops humming momentarily, but when neither of them moves again, he picks it back up. It starts off as just a jumble of notes, but eventually he starts singing the words under his breath, and Natsu recognizes it as a Taylor Swift song that Sting’s particularly fond of.

Natsu can barely keep a smile from creeping across his face as Sting’s singing gets a bit louder. His voice isn’t entirely in key, but Natsu loves the way he sounds. It’s sweet and happy, and when Natsu hears Sting change one of the lines to fit Gray’s name in, Natsu nearly cries.

Gray told me I was pretty when I looked like a messtoday was a fairytaletime slows down whenever he’s around

When Natsu hears Sting move away from the bed he cracks an eye open, holding in a fond sigh as he watches Sting dance over toward the closet. Sting keeps humming and singing, switching to a new song as he hangs Rogue’s dress shirts.

It must have been the way Rogue kissed mefell in love when I saw him standing there

When he turns back to the bed Natsu barely closes his eyes in time, and Sting’s quiet for a second. Natsu tries his best to keep his breathing even – he’s had lots of practice with it. Sting only sings when he thinks everyone’s asleep or nobody is home, so Natsu sneaks in these moments whenever he can.

Eventually Sting grabs the rest of the laundry and starts tucking it into their dresser as he picks up with a new song.

Well, he drives me crazy half the timethe other half I’m only tryingto let him know that what I feel is trueand I’m only me when I’m with Natsu

Natsu can’t help the tiny, adoring sound he makes when he hears his name, and Sting immediately stops singing. A balled-up sock hits Natsu on the side of the head and he pretends to grumble, opening his eyes and rubbing his face.

“Mornin’,” he says to Sting, sitting up and nudging Rogue, who also rolls over and fakes just having woken up. “What’cha doin’?”

“Your laundry,” Sting says, deftly catching the socks as Natsu tosses them back at him. “You really need to start checking your pockets for glitter before tossing stuff in the washing machine.” He holds out one of Gray’s dress sweaters that is now much more sparkly than it had been before laundry day.

“Oops.” Natsu makes a face.

“Where is Gray, anyway?” Rogue asks, kicking off the blankets and grabbing his phone off the end table.

“He left early for work,” Sting says, tucking the last of the shirts in the drawer and nudging it closed with his shin. He tosses the laundry basket back in the corner of the room and is about to head out into the kitchen when Natsu catches him by the wrist.

“C’mere,” Natsu says, tugging Sting toward him. He sits up on the edge of the bed and wraps his arms around Sting’s waist, resting his head on Sting’s stomach and kissing just above his bellybutton.

“What’s up?” Sting asks softly, brushing his fingers through Natsu’s hair. Natsu’s tempted to tell Sting that he wasn’t asleep, tell him that he’s sweet and perfect and Natsu would listen to him sing every day for the rest of his life. But Sting would turn pink and make excuses and stop humming sweet things for Natsu to wake up to every day.

“Nothin’,” Natsu says instead, sighing happily as Rogue leans against him and joins the embrace. “Just love you.”

~

Natsu’s still got Taylor Swift stuck in his head when he picks up Gray from work, so he flips to his favorite playlist while he’s waiting in the parking lot. They both work late today, so the streetlights are already on and are reflecting off the tiny drops of rain clinging to the windshield. The wipers move in time to the beat of the music, and Natsu taps the steering wheel as he hums along.

The passenger door finally opens nearly twenty minutes after Gray’s supposed to meet him. “Sorry,” Gray says, shaking the rain out of his hair and shooting Natsu an apologetic look. “I had to show Chad how to run the reports ‘cause Abby’s out of the office next week.”

“’s okay,” Natsu says, leaning over and kissing Gray’s cheek. “You hungry? Rogue just texted, he’s making chicken biryani for supper.”

Gray makes a noncommittal sound, tipping his head against the window as Natsu squeezes his hand, then puts the car into ‘drive’ and heads out of the parking lot. It’s not uncommon for Gray to be reserved after work – it takes him a lot longer than Natsu to decompress.

Natsu flicks on the blinker and merges onto the highway, taking the familiar route without thinking about it. The rain is louder now that they’re moving, and Natsu turns up the music so he can sing along.

“Why are you so obsessed with Taylor Swift?” Gray asks, leaning against the door and looking over at Natsu.

“I’m not!” Natsu insists. “Her music is just catchy.”

Gray rolls his eyes. “Her lyrics appeal to seventeen-year-old girls who just got dumped by their first boyfriend,” he says.

“The fact that you know that implies that you listen to her music just as much as I do,” Natsu says smugly, sticking his tongue out at Gray and turning the music up.

“I do not,” Gray mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s obnoxious. Can we please listen to something else?”

Natsu sighs but acquiesces, gesturing for Gray to pick another playlist. “I’m not listening to your boring history podcast, though,” he says. Gray hmphs and switches to classical music, then settles back into his seat.

“Y’know what I think?” Natsu asks as the sound of piano music fills the car. Gray doesn’t answer. “I think you pretend not to like Taylor Swift ‘cause she makes you feel things and you hate it.” He grins and pokes Gray’s thigh.

“Shut up,” Gray grumbles, smacking Natsu’s hand away.

“Ooh,” Natsu teases, “truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Just drive the damn car,” Gray snaps, and suddenly there’s more than just exasperation in his voice. Natsu frowns, looking over at him, but Gray refuses to make eye contact.

“Hey,” Natsu starts, but Gray shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Let’s just go home.” 

~

Walking into the apartment is always a whirlwind – kisses from Sting, plaintive meows from the cats trying to trick someone into feeding them a second time, Rogue reminding Natsu to put his shoes on the rack and not kick them in a pile by the door. By the time Natsu sits down at the kitchen table, he’s nearly forgotten the exchange in the car.

“Where’s Gray?” Rogue asks, frowning as he hands Natsu a plate.

“Bedroom,” Sting says around a mouthful of bread. “Said he had a headache and he’ll eat later.”

Natsu frowns, glancing down the hallway. “When’s the last time you guys saw him eat?” he asks.

Rogue pops back into the kitchen and opens the fridge, then looks back at Natsu, shaking his head. “He didn’t eat his lunch,” he says.

“He left so early this morning, I don’t think he had breakfast either,” Sting says, brow creasing in concern. “You think he’s getting sick?”

Natsu sighs. “Yeah,” he says, setting down the plate and pushing his chair away from the table. “I think he is.”

~

The bedroom is dark, and when Natsu turns on the lamp on the side table, there’s a grumbled protest from somewhere in the middle of the duvet. Natsu kicks off his jeans, then pulls the blanket back and shuffles under it until he’s close to Gray but not quite touching.

“Hey, you,” he says gently. Gray’s curled up with a pillow against his chest and his eyes squeezed shut. Natsu’s pretty sure he’s been crying.

“I have a headache,” Gray says without opening his eyes.

“Gray.” Natsu reaches out and brushes his fingers gently over the back of Gray’s forearm. “C’mon, love. You don’t have to pretend.”

Gray doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t pull away either. He sighs, pressing his face against the pillow.

“When was the last time you ate?” Natsu asks. Gray shrugs and Natsu slides his hand up Gray’s arm. It takes a second for Gray to relax his grip on the pillow enough to let Natsu slide their fingers together.

They lie in silence for a while, and eventually Gray shifts a tiny bit closer to Natsu. It’s almost imperceptible, but Natsu knows it’s Gray giving him permission.

“C’mere,” he says, reaching out and pulling Gray into his arms. He kisses Gray’s forehead as Gray lets out a shaky breath and relaxes against him.

Gray’s quiet for a bit, and eventually whispers, “why do you stay?”

Natsu swears he can feel his heart breaking. “Gray,” he whispers, pressing his face into Gray’s hair and holding him tight. “How can you even ask that?”

Gray sniffs, rubbing his face. “I just—you’re all better.” His voice breaks on the last word. “Sting’s sweet a-and Rogue’s smart and th-thoughtful, and you’re… you’re you. And I’m n-not, and I just—my brain is stupid and even when I take my meds it doesn’t always work and I’m grumpy and tired and—”

“Gray.” Natsu interrupts him gently, running his hand down Gray’s back. “I know you’re feeling shitty right now, and I know that sucks, but we all love you so, so much.”

“Why?” Gray asks, pain and frustration clear in his voice. “I don’t understand. I’m always gonna be like this and I hate it.”

“And that’s okay,” Natsu says, voice almost pleading. He pulls back and tips Gray’s chin up. “I’ve loved you for a long, long time and that’s never gonna stop. You’re a part of me, in here—” he takes Gray’s hand and places it on his chest “—and nothing can change that. Nothing.”

Gray’s face crumples and he sniffs as Natsu pulls him close again. “When I was teasing you in the car,” Natsu says, “that probably didn’t help if you’re feeling like this, hey?” Gray shakes his head and Natsu sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“’s not your fault,” Gray mumbles into Natsu’s shirt. “You’re right. I suck at feelings.”

Natsu’s about to argue, but he knows it’s futile. Gray’s always struggled with expressing himself, and telling him that it’s not true isn’t going to help. Instead, Natsu combs his fingers through Gray’s hair and asks, “did the song we were listening to make you feel sad?” Gray exhales and nods against Natsu’s chest. “And you shut it off because you don’t wanna let yourself feel sad.”

“I just…” Gray sighs in frustration, cuddling closer to Natsu. “It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

“I do know all the words,” Gray admits. “I listened to that song a lot when we broke up.”

The statement takes Natsu by surprise. They’ve been together for so long – even before Sting and Rogue – that their temporary breakup feels like forever ago. They’d both been young and scared and overwhelmed by their feelings for each other, and it had taken nearly six months for them to drift back into each other’s orbit and stay there.

“I missed you so much,” Gray says quietly. “I thought—sometimes I worried that you left because I was too much. I know I left too, but I’d been…” He gestures vaguely at himself. “Like this, I guess, before it. And I felt like I’d ruined things.”

“Oh, love,” Natsu murmurs. “No, never. You were never too much. You’ll never be too much.”

“What if Rogue and Sting don’t feel that way?” Gray whispers. “What if they don’t wanna deal with me anymore?”

Natsu’s chest aches, and he’s tempted to call out for the other two so they can come and cuddle Gray and tell him he’s wrong; that they’re never going to leave. He’s not sure that’s what Gray needs right now, though.

“They love you,” he says instead. “Just like this, for who you are. Your brain works differently, and that’s not your fault, remember?” Gray huffs. “Think about Sting,” Natsu adds. “How many anxiety attacks has he had since we’ve known him? Since we’ve been together, even?”

“Lots,” Gray concedes.

“And are you tired of him?”

“Never.” Gray’s voice is so full of conviction, and Natsu can hear tears on the edge of it. “No, I’d never—I love him so much and it’s not his fault. He…” Gray trails off. “Oh.”

Natsu lets the realization sink in before he says, “you don’t have to pretend. You’re not a burden or broken, and you can always talk to us when you don’t feel right.”

Gray doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around Natsu’s waist. Natsu thinks back to the song they were listening to in the car and starts to hum it quietly. Gray tenses, but Natsu keeps playing with his hair until he relaxes again.

“I’ve got you,” Natsu murmurs. “It’s okay to not be okay.”  

~

They fall asleep not long after, tangled together and breathing in tandem. Natsu wakes at one point when Sting and Rogue come to bed, both kissing him before settling down on the other end of the bed to give him and Gray space.

When Natsu drags himself out of sleep the next morning, the first thing he notices is that Gray isn’t beside him anymore. Instead, Rogue’s curled up behind him with an arm thrown over his stomach. The second thing is that Sting is singing again, and it immediately brings a smile to Natsu’s face.

He cracks an eye open, hoping Sting won’t notice him, but Sting isn’t up and moving around like yesterday. He’s still lying on the bed, propped up on a pillow with Gray resting on his chest. Gray looks like he’s still half-asleep, but Sting’s holding his hand and is kissing Gray’s fingers between lines of the song. It’s the one that Gray had turned off yesterday in the car.

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of greyand I stood there loving you and wished them all awayand you come away with a great little storyof a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Natsu reaches down and rests his hand over Rogue’s, smiling when Rogue stirs and presses a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. Sting looks up, cheeks turning pink when he realizes Natsu’s listening, but he doesn’t stop singing.

When the song’s over, Sting kisses Gray’s forehead and Gray makes a sleepy sound, snuggling closer to him. Natsu reaches out and runs his hand up Gray’s back.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

Gray looks like he’s about to pretend he’s fine, but instead he looks at Natsu and quietly replies, “still sad.”

Natsu shuffles forward with Rogue until all four of them are touching. Then he grabs Gray’s hand and squeezes.

“You can be sad if you need to be,” he says, resting his forehead on Gray’s shoulder, “and we’ll be right here with you while you feel that.”

[dreamstormdragon]

OC Snippet Tag

Rules of the game: Pick an OC and answer the following 7 Qs!

I got tagged by @theblueskyphoenix

As for an OC… Darnit making me choose between all my babies.

I pick my Spider-Verse OC Athena Parker, because I’ve been wanting to do more with her but am on a bit of a “Don’t do anything new until after nano” so… Yeah.

1. Your OC is at a jazz bar when they see a mysterious, alluring dame being pestered by a joe that just won’t let up. What do they do?

She, really wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. She was just there to make a trade of goods, with a seller because it was cheaper than shipping.

However, she wasn’t about to sit there and watch that happen. The girl stood up, adjusting her gloves, taking aim.

The guy opened his mouth, for another pickup line, when he was silenced by a glob of web across his mouth. He let out a muffled yell of alarm, as he started looking around, expecting New York’s favorite webslinger to be hanging around the bar somewhere.

Athena tapped the woman’s shoulder gesturing for her to sit next to her.

“Thank you… I have no idea where that came from though.”

She smiled.

“Maybe there’s a friendly neighborhood spider chilling around. Root beer?”

“Please.”

2. The world will be destroyed in three days. What does your OC do with their remaining time?

The world, was going to collapse in three days. No one had expected that blasted device, to be recreated in another universe… Let alone a universe full of danger like no other.

“This is going to be tough.” She remarked, looking down at the ruined city, her hair blowing in the wind.

The man beside her, narrowed his eyes, giving her a nudge.

“You wanna sit and wait for the world to die, or get home in time for dinner?”

Athena smirked, pulling down her mask.

“Let’s stop the zombie apocalypse. I wanna punch zombie you in the face.”  She gave a thumbs up, showing she had a capsule in one hand. “We can make a cure rain right?”

Peter patted her head, before pulling his own mask down.

“Let’s roll.”

3. Your OC spends the night in a haunted house for a bet, only to realize that the rumours might be true… What do they do?

She hummed a little under her breath, her mind trying to block out any of the noises coming from around her.

Yarn over, pull through, yarn over pull through…

The air around her went cold, as something icy grabbed her shoulder.

“I, swear if you interrupt my counting I’m gonna sock you.” She growled, turning as a large misty apparition shrunk down behind the couch. “That’s what I thought!”

“Boss…” A voice whispered. “What do we do? She just gets mad!”

“Take her dang yarn!”

Athena held up a spray mister, meant for plants.

“You touch my yarn, I cleanse you out of this dimension.”

4. A character your OC cares deeply about has just passed away. How do they handle their grief?

She supposed, it was too good to be true. To believe she’d ever have a full and happy family, where no one was going to disappear from her life.

She sobbed harder, burying her face into a bundle in her arms. His spare suit, his mask… It still smelled like the laundry soap he used for it and baby powder.

MJ was downstairs, dealing with the press but Athena… Athena couldn’t go down there. It was just a reminder, that in the end…

 Spider-Man, chose to save her instead of himself.

Dad… Why? Why did you do this to me?

 She sat up, slowly staring down at the mask. No more night time runs in their casual clothes, no more sitting up late watching movies while making jokes.

No more dramatic sighing whenever we go to the craft store…

No more tucking me in at night… No more kissing Mom goodbye before patrol…

“You were supposed to be there for me… I’m not ready for this part…. I’m not ready,...” She growled, her voice shaking as she punched the mask down into her mattress. “You were supposed to give me away at my wedding you jerk!”

She sunk down into her bed, curling up.

“You… You were the only one who got what I’m going through…”

Dad….

Please come back.

Please let this be a bad dream I can wake up from…

I need you… I’m scared.

Daddy, I’m scared…

I’m scared of the dark...

 5. Your OC walks into a coffee shop. What kind of coffee do they order?

Athena hummed a little, strolling into her favorite shop.

“Ah, if it isn’t the weaver!” The barista laughed. “How hard did your dad’s credit card cry this time?”

Athena grinned, holding up a hefty bag from her favorite yarn store.

“Pretty bad. Can I have a mocha frapp with extra java chips, six pumps of vanilla and caramel?” She asked.

The barista winced.

“Oh… Oh, you are terrible. You want actual coffee in that?”

Athena stuck her tongue out.

“Nope. Give me my overly sugary drink fix please!”

6. Your OC finds themselves in a financial pinch - they need money, and fast. Who do they go to or what do they do to get the dough?

Athena sighed heavily, looking up from her laptop, to the people across the room. Her mother met her eyes, as she shook her head getting up quickly. She wanted no part of this upcoming war.

“Daaaad.” She called, in the most sugary sweet voice she could manage. “How much do you love me?”

Peter didn’t look up from the report he was typing up for the Bugle. “How much is this gonna cost me?”

“Just… a hundred and fifty…”

“For what?”

“Freshly dyed, baby alpaca yarn… and angora in some beautiful shades.” She batted her eyes, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. “I promise, I won’t ask for anything else!”

“Athena… I’m gonna teach you a lesson my aunt May taught me.” Peter looked up at her with a stern look. “I’m not made of money. I’ll drop cash gladly on your yarn that doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg but if you want that really fancy crap, either wait until the holidays or your birthday. Or find a way around it. But I am not dropping that much on new yarn, when you have tons of it upstairs.”

Athena sighed heavily, looking down at the skeins she oh so desperately wanted. She already could imagine the sweaters and shawls she could create from them.

Then… she got an idea… Athena looked up at him, giving another innocent look.

“Dad? Can I have an etsy store?”

“By all means, if it gets rid of the yarn you’re stashing in my spider shed go for it.”

A few days later, Athena was listing batches of Spider-Man related memorabilia on her new etsy store, from jackets to order by commission, to premade little plushies of the famous webslinger… and a few of her own persona.

“You think people really are gonna buy Arachne stuff?” She fidgeted, looking at the tiny plushie in her hands, that resembled her costume.

Peter patted her head, taking it and slipping her a twenty. She looked up at him in surprise.

“I know at least one person who will.” He winked, giving her a grin. “I think I’ll make her my little desk guardian at work.”

Athena giggled, hugging him tightly.

“Love you Dad.”

“Love you too Weaver.”

7.  Your OC somehow obtains the ability to time travel. Where do they go, and what do they do?

She was going to stop this. She had been so determined to stop it… she didn’t think about what would happen when she did. She saw her younger self, milling around a shop room, singing under her breath.

Before she had been bitten by a radioactive spider, dropped into her dimension… while it sucked her newly divorced future parent into another.

She had been intending to jump back, to stop the divorce from happening in the first place… but it made her pause.

Her younger self, had been so alone… She had her group home, yes. Her fiber art club at school.

But years of accumulating skills, taught to her by people who had said “we promise this is the last home.” Had hurt…

Arachne stared at Athena, spotting a familiar bright green, blue and black spider crawling along the wall.

Soon, I’m gonna get bit… Then in a few months, Mom and Dad are gonna drop in on my life...

Gosh and I was gonna mess up a good thing I had…

I love my parents… but I know if I stop that, then I stop this.

Then I stop my family from existing…

So, she turned away. She jumped back to her own time, throwing away the device that was letting her make the jumps. Trading her costume, for her favorite dress and jacket, bolting down the streets towards home.

Home, with her room that had the special shelves, just for her ever growing collections of yarn and thread.

Home, with the old school sewing machine her aunt May had left to MJ when she passed.

Home, with her weaving loom and her knitting needles and crochet hooks…

Home…

With her parents.

ooooo

Aaaaahhhh this was fun, to explore Athena a little bit, since I do wanna do more for my spider gal. For now… This shall be it. This was fun!

Let’s see…

I taaaaag….

No one. >83

[arianakristine]

Title: Mirror Summary: RH verse. She wants it to be noticeable. Note: I don’t think this one was actually based on a prompt, but I was working on 2 other RH fics and this one slipped out instead. Just a quick little thing, and then hopefully finishing up the other two!

               Emma dropped her keys on the table as she came through the door, sighing loudly. The apartment was dim, so she didn’t call out into the emptiness. The rolling hum of the heater was the only sound to be heard. She twisted the lock and then pulled her hands through her hair, tugging slightly.

               She was exhausted. The first sign of pregnancy had been that, but after the storm that was her hyperemesis, it had waned a bit. Now it seemed back with a vengeance, weighing down on her since mid-morning. She had just barely scrapped together the last reports from the Dolman payment before giving in to temptation and leaving her upper Manhattan office.

               She shed her coat and left it in a heap on the couch, then bent awkwardly over the bulge of her stomach to plunk her boots by the door. In socked feet, she padded to the bedroom, intent on falling into the sheets and maybe having an old sitcom in the background just for the noise.

               Emma frowned when she caught sight of herself in the mirror as she passed, then paused. She was a bit wind-blown but still professional-looking; her white blouse was wrinkled in parts but still crisp in the right areas, her pants dark and slim. The shirt, though, was boxy and a little fashionably oversized, hiding the distention. She twisted, trying to see if that made the bump more prominent, and then frowned deeply.

               Carefully, she pulled apart the buttons and let the material fall to the ground. For good measure, she flicked open the clasp of her trousers and left those in a pool at her feet as well, stepping out of them and then kicking them to the side. She examined herself closely, hands framing either side of her stomach.

               She was sure the baby could feel her anxiousness as he immediately began moving, twisting beneath skin. She smiled, then examined herself again, straightening her posture to check the progress and then arching her back to enhance it. She released a low huff of a breath and then placed her hands on her hips, brow furrowed.

               She jumped suddenly when a hand appeared in the side of the mirror and came to her shoulder. She whiplashed to face her husband. “Where did you come from?” she exclaimed.

               He chuckled slightly at her surprise and jerked his head toward the bed. “You didn’t see me when you came in. I was trying to nap.”

               She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Preoccupied.”

               “Looking at the twins?”

               She shot him a look and then rolled her hands over her stomach. “I keep thinking I’m huge and then I can’t even notice when I’m in clothes,” she said, pouting.

               He pressed his chest against her back and then melded into her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. His eyes met hers in the mirror and he grinned, then ducked his head. “You are stunning,” he said into her skin before placing an open mouth kiss into the juncture of her neck. “And I can tell when you’re in clothes.”

               “Just because you’re always trying to,” she shot back, and felt a bit of annoyance as she realized she was almost teary with it.

               He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just really love seeing you like this.”

               She leaned back into him, letting him sway them gently. “I just wanna be sure he’s healthy.”

               “Dr. Swanson said he is,” he countered matter-of-factly.

               She shrugged up one shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I trust him. He can’t even see enough on the screen to tell me if he’s a boy or a girl.”

               He sighed and kissed her cheek, then met her gaze in the mirror. “You were sick so long, Em, and you lost so much weight. You’ve gotten bigger, it’s just you can’t see it as much now that you’re healthy again,” he soothed, and ran his hands across her stomach. “Believe me. I’m checking every day.”

               She smirked at the playfulness in his tone as her skin sparked with heat. “You sure you’re not just enjoying the other side effect of pregnancy when you do that?” she asked. His touch stirred her exceptionally quickly now, and she couldn’t exactly deny that when she took to jumping him just as quick.

               “Hmm, maybe,” he said, then swept her hair to the side. He pressed kisses across the back of her neck until he straightened behind her. His hands were not idle, moving slow and steady across her middle until they drifted back and snapped the hook of her bra. It fell and she grinned up at him. His eyebrows raised as he made his best innocent expression. “What? I can see better without it.”

               She raised a brow and let the bra fall to the floor. “Of course. Your intentions are always purely so innocent.”

               “Always,” he echoed, and grasped her hips, rolling his thumbs under the waistband of her panties. “See, though? They’ve gotten bigger, too. It’s just a matter of proportion.”

               She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been checking those, too?”

               “I have you memorized, Emma,” he said into her ear, voice rumbly and deep. “And I like mapping the changes.”

               Her eyes fluttered shut and she collapsed back against him. She loved when he was like this, all cuddly and warm and comforting but also slowly building to something more. She didn’t need such a work at seduction, especially now, but she couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate it. “You’re home early,” she murmured in question. She tried calculating the time before Henry was due to come home.

               He nodded, a small smile on his lips as he spread his hands over her stomach. “Miller sent me and Simmons home for an extended lunch. We’re doing interviews tonight.”

               She stiffened and her eyes snapped open. She couldn’t keep the worry out of her expression as she placed her palms over his. “Interviews?”

               He let out a soft exhale. “Yeah. Still part of the job,” he reminded, and then resumed massaging her skin. “It’s an old case, Emma. Everyone we’re seeing is elderly. The youngest was a kid when it happened, and now is in their late fifties at least.”

               She rolled her eyes up to keep them from watering. “So are you,” she spit back teasingly, trying hard not to let it get to her. She hated this part of his job. She always had, after what happened with Fell. It had only grown from there, in every missed call and late night text. Every time she went to the precinct and saw the small red scar on Garcia’s neck … she couldn’t help the worry and fear that piqued. Her body tremored.

               “Hey, now, I’m not even thirty yet,” he quipped back, though his tone was careful. He grasped her hands and set them in front of her. Cautiously, he released her, taking a miniscule step back. “Let go.”

               She turned her head slightly, angry that she still couldn’t find another way to release the tension. She blew out a low breath along with a bit of the tingling nervous energy that had been coursing through her. The lights flared on and then faded out, the only visible sign of her magic. She watched as goosebumps covered his skin, and her nose and eyes stung. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

               He shook his head and kissed the underside of her jaw. “Not needed,” he insisted, even as she felt him work to relax back into the easy seduction he had been in before. “It’s keeping you both healthy.”

               She looked down and gave a half-hearted shrug. She knew it did, but she still felt guilty ever since she found that link. It was both because she had been the one making herself so sick, and also because every time she released it she was triggering memories deep within him. She cursed Regina once again, that pit of bile deeper than the fear. As good as their lives were, for as happy as they were, it couldn’t erase the past. No matter how much she wished it could.

               He dragged his lips up the side of her head and chuckled into her hair. “This little pomegranate is going to be something.”

               She smiled despite herself. “Yeah, he really is,” she agreed, and rolled her hands over her stomach one more time. Tiny though he might be, he was at least still on track. And definitely adding to these little magical and emotional outbursts of hers. She sniffed and swiped her eyes, trying to get back to something resembling herself. “You’ll be careful, right?”

               “I always am,” he said, and hugged her close to him.

               She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to let that fully comfort her. She inhaled him deeply, then hummed. She took his hands and dragged them over her skin. “So … how much time do you have?”

               He grinned and moved back slightly to tug the shirt over his head. “Enough,” he said cheekily, and walked backwards toward the bed.

               She lazily dragged her gaze over his chest through the reflection, and then bit down on her lip as she peeked over her shoulder. “Then why are you so overdressed?”

               He sprung forward to grab her by the waist and dragged her down into the sheets. She bounced on the mattress and let out a giggle as he settled over her. “I thought we’d focus on finding some more changes first,” he said, and tugged down the last of her clothing.

               She guessed it’d be okay to let him have his way.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Cocky Little Shit

This is for @sterekislovely for the incredible prompt, and also for Fanfiction Cocky Week, because #byefaleena! 

You can also read it on AO3. 

“Cocky little shit!” the grocery store security guard yells as John skates past the “No Skateboarding” sign on the sidewalk and shows the guy his middle finger. John’s been hanging out here for a few weeks now with his buddies, and the security guard wants to murder them. It’s funny as hell.

John does another pass, and thinks about dropping his jeans to moon the guard as well, but he’s caused enough of a distraction already. Enough for Rick to sneak out of the store with a bag of chips under his shirt anyhow.

John and Donny and Rick hang out around the grocery store most afternoons. Sometimes they go to the mall, but the mall in Beacon Hills is kind of lame, or at least John’s experiences of it are, since their security guards can actually run. So he and his buddies hang out here instead. A few blocks back from the grocery store there’s a vacant lot that nobody seems to own, and they end up there a lot, eating chips and talking shit as the afternoons wind slowly down into night.

When it’s dark, John walks home with his skateboard tucked under his arm.

He stands for a while on the front porch of his house, the boards sagging under his feet, before he pushes the door open.

The TV is blaring in the living room.

John treads down the hallway to the kitchen. His mother is chopping vegetables by the sink. She looks up as he enters the room. The bags under her eyes make her look ghoulish.

“Don’t upset your father,” she says.

John nods, then grabs a couple of slices of bread from the loaf on the counter and goes to his room to eat them. The noise from the television vibrates through the thin walls.

Don’t upset your father. That’s code for He’s angry tonight.

John sets his skateboard down, and crouches on the floor where his tape player’s plugged in. He finds his headphones, and jams the socket in.

He closes his eyes, and turns the volume up so loud that he can’t hear the TV anymore.

You’ll ruin your hearing, his mom always chides.

He gets so angry sometimes though, that this is the only way he can be in this stifling little house, stuck between his mom’s weary misery and his dad’s explosive temper. So he puts his headphones on, and cranks the volume all the way up, and listens to Kiss Off by The Violent Femmes.

***

John’s jeans are torn and his knees are bleeding. Turns out the security guard at the grocery store can run faster than John gave him credit for. He’d tackled John as John was bolting out the door, and they’d both landed on the pavement. The bag of chips in John’s waistband had exploded with a pop, and now his underwear is full of salt and crushed chips.

John hasn’t been inside the Sheriff’s Department before. He’s sitting on a bench outside the sheriff’s office, one wrist cuffed to the slats. His knees are stinging, and he really wants to pick the crumbs out of his underwear, but he’s in full view of the bullpen.

He’s also kind of shit scared, and trying his hardest not to show it.

He looks up when the door to the sheriff’s office opens, and the security guard from the store lumbers past, his face like thunder. And then the sheriff is standing in the doorway.

“Lieberman,” he says, and the deputy who drove John here from the grocery store gets up from his desk in the bullpen and comes over and unfastens John’s cuff. The sheriff motions for John to stand, and then looks him up and down. “Come in here, son.”

John shuffles inside the sheriff’s office, his heart thumping wildly in his ribs, trailing crumbs behind him.

The sheriff is middle-aged, with a receding hairline and a network of fine wrinkles expanding out from the corners of his eyes like cracks in a windshield. He’s tall, and lanky, and he has the beginnings of a paunch that pushes against his uniform shirt.

“Sit down,” he says.

John sits, grimacing at the sensation of chip fragments in his ass crack.

The sheriff sits on the other side of his desk, and looks down at the report in front of him, then up and John, and then back to his report.

“Janusz,” he says. “Janusz Noah Stilinski.”

He pronounces it perfectly, and John sneaks a look at the nameplate on his desk. Sheriff Mitch Gajos. Probably explains why Janusz was no problem for him.

“It’s John,” John says, his voice smaller than he wants.

“John,” Sheriff Gajos repeats. “How old are you, John?”

John swallows. “Twelve.”

“Twelve.” Sheriff Gajos shakes his head.

John feels a rush of bravado. “I’m not scared of jail!”

“Well then,” Sheriff Gajos says, “that’s good, because guess where you’ll end up if you keep shoplifting?”

John’s heart races.

“You’re lucky I’m a betting man, John,” Sheriff Gajos says, “and that I feel like taking a gamble on you.”

Which is how John finds himself in the back parking lot of the station, a soapy bucket of water in one hand and a sponge in the other, washing every police cruiser in the place.

When he finishes, Sheriff Gajos tells him to come back next week.

***

“Don’t upset your father,” his mother says to John as he slouches inside the house, and John nods and heads for his room to listen to his music. He has to turn it up as loud as he can to drown out the sounds of his dad yelling when the meatloaf is undercooked.

***

John doesn’t fall out with Rick and Donny over that winter, but he falls away from them. He doesn’t get to see them much because he spends every Saturday at the Sheriff’s Department. At first he turns up because he’s afraid that otherwise Sheriff Gajos is going to tell his parents what he got caught doing, or that he’s going to tell the security guard to press charges after all, but eventually he likes it. It’s warmer than hanging out in a vacant lot every day, and Sheriff Gajos always seems to have a couple of jobs lined up for him.

He still drags his feet and glowers when Sheriff Gajos talks to him, afraid that if he doesn’t he’ll reveal something about himself that he instinctively needs to protect. He still backtalks too, but Sheriff Gajos usually replies with a bored-sounding “Uh huh” and passes the bucket and sponge to him.

One day, when he walks in, there’s a girl about his age sitting on the bench outside the sheriff’s office. She’s wearing a shirt with polka dots on it, and pink shorts that come to her knees. She has dark hair, tiny dark moles dotted on her pale skin like sprinkles on a cupcake, and an easy, broad smile when she turns her head and sees John standing there.

“Hi,” she says brightly.

“Hi.” John shuffles his feet, and then blurts out, “What did you do?”

She wrinkles her nose. “What d’you mean?”

And then the door to the sheriff’s office opens, and Sheriff Gajos appears. “Ah,” he says. “John, this is Claudia, my daughter.”

John looks at his feet. “Oh.”

Claudia bursts out laughing. “Did you think I was under arrest?”

John wants to tell her to shut up, but her dad is right there. He shuffles his feet again.

“Dad!” Claudia exclaims. “He thinks I’m a bad seed!”

Sheriff Gajos rescues him. “How about you get started washing the cars, John?”

John flees, his face burning.

***

John has a growth spurt in the summer, and outgrows his clothes. His jeans suddenly don’t reach his ankles, and even when he tucks the cuffs into his socks they keep popping out again. His mom sighs and clicks her tongue, and drags him to Sears to get some new ones.

“I like your jeans,” Claudia says the next Saturday at the station. She’s wearing her Girl Scouts uniform—a green skirt, a shirt, and a green vest over it—and swinging her legs as she sits on the bench outside her dad’s office.

“Thanks,” John says. He’s not sure how to take Claudia. She doesn’t seem to notice that he doesn’t like her. She just keeps talking to him anyway, and laughing when he scowls, or flips someone off. He hesitates now, and sits beside her. “I like your, um, your patches on your vest.”

Claudia smiles widely, and pokes at one. “This is my newest. I got it for camping. We went out into the Preserve.” Her smiles transforms into something a little bit evil, and her eyes brighten. “I got in trouble for scaring everyone with that story, you know, with the guy with the hook for a hand, and he’s banging on the roof of the car, and it turns out it’s the boyfriend’s head. Everyone screamed.” She snorts. “Dumbasses.”

John laughs too.

Maybe Claudia’s not that bad.

***

“I like it here,” Claudia says on Saturday, when they’re washing the cars. She tosses her sponge in the bucket, and it lands with a heavy plop, splashing water onto John’s legs. “We used to live in Arizona. Arizona sucks.”

“Why?”

“There was a girl in my class who put gum in my hair,” Claudia says. “So, okay, that’s not the whole of Arizona, but Tiffany was a bitch and I’m glad we moved here.”

“You should have punched her in the face,” John suggests.

“I don’t think that would have helped.”

John shrugs, and scrubs at the grill of the sheriff’s cruiser.

It’s weird to have a friend who is a girl, but who isn’t a girlfriend. Like, that was okay back when he was a little kid, but John is thirteen now. Rick has a girlfriend. Even Donny does, even though nobody has met her and he says she lives in Canada. Rick says that he got to second base with his girlfriend, and John thinks that means boobs, and earlier today he took a surreptitious glance at Claudia’s chest, and she doesn’t really seem to have any? Her shirt is pretty baggy, and it’s kind of hard to tell.

“Will you teach me to ride your skateboard?” Claudia asks suddenly.

“Where?” Sheriff Gajos won’t be happy if John goes back to the grocery store.

Claudia gestures to the parking lot. “Why not here?”

Why not?

***

Claudia skins both knees, splits her chin open, and chips a tooth.

Sheriff Gajos threatens to toss John’s skateboard in the nearest dumpster if he ever lets Claudia on it again.

It takes about two weeks before they disregard him.

***

When John is fourteen, he and Claudia kiss for the first time, underneath the water tower at the edge of town.

John guesses that he has a girlfriend now.

***

John’s never been that talkative, but Claudia makes up for it. They hang out in the Preserve a lot, lying on the bank of the creek that runs through the woods, Claudia chattering like a bird. John likes listening to her. She’s funny, and she’s smart, and she lets him get to second base and then pretends not to notice how he’s tenting his jeans, and gives him time to adjust himself.

Claudia talks about everything and nothing, and tells terrible jokes that make John groan aloud. She makes him a mixtape, and he makes one for her as well, listening avidly to the radio one night and trying to hit record at exactly the right moment to cut off the announcer, but not miss too much of the intro to the song.

He gives it to her at the station one Saturday, and Sheriff Gajos sees and beckons him into his office.

“You’re a good kid, John,” he says sternly. “You remember how we first met?”

“Yeah.”

“That security guard was pissed when I told him to get out of here,” Sheriff Gajos says, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “A cocky little shit, he called you.”

John rolls his eyes.

“And he wasn’t wrong, was he?”

John shrugs. “Whatever.”

“I took a gamble on you,” Sheriff Gajos continues. “I like you, John Stilinski. And as long as you’re not a cocky little shit when it comes to Claudia, we’re good. If you want to date my daughter, then that means you stay on the straight and narrow. Understand?”

John nods, and turns to leave.

“Oh, and John?” Sheriff Gajos raises his eyebrows. “Age of consent in California is eighteen. Don’t either of you forget it.”

John flees.

***

When John is fifteen, Claudia breaks up with him. There’s a boy she likes in her history class. He’s not like John. That’s what she says.

“He’s not like you, John.”

Like there’s something wrong with him. John sneers.

“He’s…” Her forehead creases. The wind blows her hair around her face. “He’s happy. I wish that… I wish that you could be happy too.”

***

John’s going to get out of Beacon Hills. As soon as he’s eighteen, he’s going to join the army, and maybe he’ll see the world. Maybe he’ll only see it as far as Fort Jackson too, but at least it will be out of here. He hates being stuck living with his parents, like every minute he’s in that house feels like someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard.

He sits on the top of the old railway bridge, taking swigs from the bottle of tequila he stole from his dad’s cabinet.

He’s going to see the world, and he’s never coming back to Beacon Hills.

He turns the volume up on his Walkman, blasting REM’s The End of the World As We Know It through his already-throbbing skull.

He doesn’t even know the police cruiser is there until Sheriff Gajos has already climbed up the embankment and is suddenly there, one hand on John’s shoulder to make sure he doesn’t fall forward, and the other pulling his headphones off.

John takes another swig of tequila, and Sheriff Gajos doesn’t move to stop him. Just watches him with those wide brown eyes of his, and an expression on his face that John is too drunk to interpret.

“Leave me alone,” John mutters. “I don’t need your help.”

“Where’d you get the walkman, John?” Sheriff Gajos asks. “Because the Best Buy over on Elm is missing one, and one of the kids who works there saw you in there earlier.”

“Fuck you,” John says tiredly. He just wants to listen to his music, is all. So loud that it drowns out everything in Beacon Hills.

Sheriff Gajos hauls him to his feet, and down the steep embankment to the road. He shoves him into the back of his cruiser, and drives him to the station.

“Sober up, you idiot,” he says when he puts John in a cell, and John realizes it’s the first time in everything John had done that he’s heard Sheriff Gajos sound angry with him.

***

No drinking, no smoking, no stealing.

Those are the rules if John wants to keep washing the cars at the station.

He tells Sheriff Gajos to go to hell.

He drinks, he smokes, he steals.

He backtalks.

“Don’t upset your father,” his mom reminds him, and John says, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the TV in the front room: “Fuck him. I don’t care.”

***

The shattered glass sparkles like icicles in the white shag rug, blue and red lights flash and flicker against the window, and John blinks and thinks of Christmas. Blood as bright red as the berries on holly spreads around him.

“They were arguing, and he fell,” his mom says. “John fell onto the glass table.”

John thinks he’s been falling since the day he was born.

At the hospital, Sheriff Gajos asks him again, and John says, “I fell. Jesus. Why do you keep asking me?”

He hates his dad so much he doesn’t even know why he lies to protect him.

He remembers when he was twelve, pretending not to show how scared he was because he was afraid that if he did it would reveal some secret truth about him, something that he needed to keep hidden in order to be able to face the world.

It feels a little like that.

“When you’re up for it,” Sheriff Gajos says, a hand on John’s shoulder, “come back and clean the cars.”

John rolls his eyes, but he nods.

***

When John is eighteen, he joins the army. He leaves Beacon Hills. As he’s climbing on the bus, he sees Claudia again, driving past in that blue Jeep she just bought from the used lot on Lincoln Street. The stereo is blaring Beyond the Wheel by Soundgarden, and John likes to imagine that Claudia’s just going to keep driving, that she’s going to get out of Beacon Hills just like he is, even though she’s not running from anything.

She writes to him when he’s gone, and tells him about college, and the friends she’s making and the movies she’s seeing. She sends him a mix-tape every week when he’s in Iraq, even though the mail isn’t always regular and sometimes they arrive out of order, or a bunch at once.

She writes, Will you ever come back to Beacon Hills?

***

John is twenty-two when he gets out of the army. He’s twenty-three and a graduate of the police academy in Fresno when he returns to Beacon Hills. He doesn’t tell his parents he’s home. He books into a cheap hotel room on the outskirts of town, and drives to Sheriff Gajos’s house that evening.

“Jesus Christ,” Sheriff Gajos says when he opens the door. “Look at you!” He pulls John into a hug, right there on the front porch. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

“Looking for a job,” John says.

Sheriff Gajos ushers him inside. “Janucz Stilinski isn’t a common name. I gotta say, I was a little surprised when I got a fax from the academy down in Fresno asking for a character reference.”

“Thanks for giving me one.”

“You just assumed I wouldn’t tank your career right then and there, huh?” Sheriff Gajos asks. He shakes his head and snorts. "You always did have more bad attitude than sense.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” John asks with a grin.

“Yeah, you were, you cocky little shit.” Sheriff Gajos claps him on the back. “So you came all the way back here to ask me for a job as a deputy, did you?”

John’s attention is caught by Claudia coming down the stairs. She’s wearing her UCLA sweatshirt, a pair of ripped jeans, and no shoes. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“That’s not the only reason I came back,” John admits, and Claudia’s smile lights up the entire world.

***

“I wish that…” Claudia said, years ago now, when John was just a dumb, angry teenager. “I wish that you could be happy too.”

He tries to turn the key in the lock of the California bungalow on Maple Street, and it jams. “It’s stuck!”

“Put some muscle into it,” Claudia yells from the driveway, hauling a box out of the Jeep.

“I don’t want to break it.”

“John, you’d better have that door open by the time I get there. I want to be carried over the threshold, not crawl through a window.”

“It’s—” John wiggles the key, and this time it turns and he’s able to open the door. “Got it.”

Claudia sets down the box on the front step, and bounces from foot to foot. She holds out her arms. “Okay, now do the thing!”

John laughs, and sweeps her up into a bridal carry, and carries her inside.

He’s happy now. He’s happy too.

[kee-writestrashh]

Guns for Hire

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

Summary:  You are the wife to the Heir of the Red Kings, Ramsay Bolton. living the undercover life of a mob wife has its perks, and you love your husband. But you find out something that seems to unfold a series of unwanted events…

Chapter 36: The awakening

"Thank you for the shower." You said, sitting down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

Now that you were comfortable, warm, and clean it was easy to feel how exhausted you were. You really couldn't keep running around like this anymore. You'd have to tell Ramsay you desperately needed a few days to do nothing. You were too fucking tired.

"Not at all, sweetie." Charlotte said, handing you a blanket, as you curled up on the couch, waiting on Ramsay to get out of the shower. But mostly waiting on Matt to show up with food.

You yawned, glancing around the living room, resting your hand on your belly when a pair of yellow eyes under the entertainment center caught yours.

"Kitty!" You practically squealed, sitting up straight and holding your hand out.

"Herman. He's shy." Charlotte said with a laugh.

"Here, Herman. Let me love you!" You said, sliding from the couch to your knees on the floor.

Herman slowly pushed his head out from under the entertainment center. He was just a baby. A little gray fuzzball, with white socked front paws.

Ah! Baby animals! Aren't they just the best?

You sat patiently, with your hand out stretched, waiting on the kitten to get close enough to scoop up.

You giggled as the kitten touched his nose to your finger tip, finally deciding you were okay as he pushed his head into your hand.

You scratched him behind the ear with your finger, a swooping sensation in your chest making it hard to breath as you thought of Kira and Willow.

You blinked the tears away with a small sniff, and scooped the kitten up, holding him close. He purred loudly and rubbed his head into the crook of your neck.

Charlotte watched you with a sad smile as if she could feel your heartache.

"I caught him and Damon cuddled up on the couch this morning. He says he hates cats, but I keep catching them together." Charlotte said with a small laugh.

"How could anyone say no to this little face, though?" You giggled, holding the kitten out to look him over.

It mewed and twitched it's tail. You set the cat down and sat back on the couch.

Damon and Matt entered the living room a few moments later and you were ecstatic to finally eat. You lodged yourself comfortably in the couch with drink between your legs and sandwiches on your stomach.

"Where's Ramsay?" Damon asked, running his finger along his game collection across the room.

"Trying to drown himself in the shower, I think." You said thickly, as you stuffed the toasted bread crust in your mouth.

"Figures. Never met someone who takes showers as long as him." Damon said, tossing Matt a controller and throwing himself down beside Charlotte, resting his head in her lap.

"Kid, roll one." Damon said, lazily pointing to the coffee table.

Matt sighed and pulled a metal tray in his lap, "dude." He moaned, "break it up. Then I'll roll it."

"Quit whining. Grinders in the kitchen." Damon said dismissively.

You blindly watched Matt roll a joint as you finished eating. Ramsay would be disappointed. You could only make it through four whole sandwich crusts. You threw away your trash and returned to find Ramsay sitting in your spot. You scowled.

"What took you so damn long?" You asked, sitting beside him.

"Phone call." He shrugged, taking the joint from Matt and taking a deep hit.

"Got whiskey in the freezer, Boss." Damon said, glancing up from his game.

"Nah. Good man." Ramsay struggled to get out, trying to hold the smoke in and not cough, as he handed the joint back to Matt, who passed it off to Damon.

"Really?" You asked, slightly shocked, as your husband lost his battle and the coughing fit overtook him.

He simply nodded, and took your drink from you.

"Fuck dude. What is that?" He choked, wiping the tears from his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

"Martell shit, man. Good isn't it?" Damon said, trying to suppress his cough, as he handed off to Charlotte.

"Sorry, baby girl." Ramsay whispered, watching you watch the handoffs.

You shrugged, "it's okay. Not really a stoner anyways, ya know."

"Think you would change your mind over this shit. What I wouldn't give to get you baked and horny as fuck right now." He murmured in your ear with a sigh, shifting on the couch to pull you into him as he rested his head back, watching the TV screen through heavily lidded, glazed bloodshot eyes.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair, holding you close as you curled up under the blanket.

"What time is it?" You asked thickly, opening your bleary eyes a bit.

"Bedtime." Ramsay said, laying you down gently in a bed.

You scoot into him, burying your face in his chest once he laid down.

"Baby?" You asked, quietly.

"Hm?" He hummed, running his hand down your spine.

"What are we going to do about our house?"

"I'm working on it, baby girl. Besides, I told you we were moving anyways."

"Mmm." You hummed in response, letting out a yawn and relaxing into the bed.

×××

As usual, you woke up alone. You felt even more tired than before you had fell asleep on the couch the night before. You had slept fitfully; nightmares and disgust making you toss and turn.

You pulled clothes from the bag at the end of the bed, dressed, and went through your daily routine in the guest bathroom.

"Smells like a family of fucking skunks live in here." You gagged, walking into the living room.

"Really happy, chill skunks." Ramsay replied, looking up from his phone as you sat beside him.

You rolled your eyes, glancing at his phone. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Got the info on the guy I need to snuff for the Iron Bank."

You took his phone, examining the picture closely.

"Hey... I know him." You said slowly.

"Yeah?" Ramsay asked, raising a brow.

"Well I don't know him know him. But he's the guy from the bar last night. What was it you said Damon, over worked middle class who hates everything?"

Damon leaned over the back of the couch examining the picture, "hm. Suppose you're right. Janos Slynt. What a shit name. His momma musta hated him.What a cocksucking lookin' son of a bitch."

"Well this cocksucker is adding twenty k to our pockets. I figured you and I could take him. And now we know where to look." Ramsay said, pocketing his phone and rising from the couch.

You stifled a yawn and looked over at Matt, who sat quietly, staring blankly at the wall. Made you grin. So stoned.

"What are you boys up to today?" You asked, glancing over at Ramsay and Damon, both taking turns smoking a bowl.

You watched Ramsay blow his smoke in Herman's face before registering what you said.

"Look at this cat. He's such a stoner." He chuckled before turning his attention to you completely. "First, I'm going to get rid of this fucking cotton mouth. Then I'm making pancakes. Or maybe it's you making pancakes. But for real though, I have a safe house to set up, numbers to go through, and sneaky shit to get on with."

You raised your brows and gave a slow nod, "Right. Sure you can function today?"

Ramsay gave a dismissive shrug and left the room.

"Matt. Want this?" Damon asked, holding up the pipe.

You watched Matt jump at the sound of his name and slowly turn his eyes to Damon. He shook his head slowly, saying nothing, and turning back to the wall.

He was usually so talkative and lively. What was wrong with him? Maybe he was just slow in the mornings?

You rose from your seat following Ramsay and Damon to the kitchen.

"Where's Charlotte?" You asked, opening the flour jar, ignoring Ramsay down a bottle of water.

"Work." Damon shrugged, grabbing a box of Fruit Loops.

Both he and Ramsay sat at the kitchen table eating dry cereal as you mixed up the pancake mix. For two men in their late twenties, they acted more like teenagers when together.

"What's wrong with the kid? He's hardly said two words since last night." Ramsay said thickly.

"Dunno. He is a bit off. I think you scared the shit out of him." Damon said, flicking a cereal at the cat, who chased it across the floor.

"Why? He was there when I killed those two pirate fucks. He wasn't even in there when I tortured the fuck last night?"

Damon shrugged, "man, I don't fucking know. Maybe the reality of it is setting in. You're a scary dude."

You snorted, measuring milk in the cup.

"Speaking of the guy last night, he said he and his sister were back. What if she goes looking for him?" You asked, turning to Ramsay.

"Ain't shit she can do. Can't go to the police about it and file a missing persons. If his face gets out there the other families will know the Dragons are back. She can't afford that. Unless she's as stupid as her brother." Ramsay said, rubbing his eye and crossing the room for another bottle of water.

"Why does everyone hate them?" You asked, pouring batter on the griddle.

"You know, I don't know. I know their father was a real cunt. You think I'm psycho, but apparently I don't have shit on him. Everyone kinda rallied against him and fucked him real good up the ass. Everyone but the two youngest.... Oh shit! That reminds me! Martell's. Their sister was married to the eldest son, they had two children together. When the Lannister's sacked 'em, Tywin sent his executioner, the Mountain, to eliminate every person with Dragon blood. I remember reading the police report. Fucker raped the woman to death, murdered her children in front of her. Smashed their tiny little heads in. Strings were pulled and a shit ton of money was undoubtedly handed off because the Mountain did like a year in the pen. Gregor Clegane."

You swallowed, suddenly losing your appetite the more Ramsay spoke, as you flipped a pancake. You placed your hand firmly over your belly, holding back the tears.

You sniffed and cleared your throat, turning your back completely to the two men in the room. You heard Damon leave the room, talking to Herman as he went. You heard the flick of a lighter and exhale of smoke.

"Sleep okay?" Ramsay asked.

You shrugged, "I guess."

He huffed. You flinched slightly as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You relaxed into him.

"You're a terrible guesser, because you didn't. What's wrong?" He whispered in your ear.

You sighed, "I dunno, baby. Just couldn't get comfortable. I miss our bed. I miss sleeping on my stomach. It's getting hard finding a comfortable spot to sleep in all night. I'm just... I'm so tired, Rams."

"I promise I won't make you do anything until you feel better." He said gently, kissing along the curve of your neck and resting his hands on your belly.

"Thank you." You said quietly, adding the last pancake to the stack and turning to face your husband. You wrapped your arms around him and inhaled deeply, closing your eyes tight.

"Damon and I will be awhile. Kid stays here. He will do whatever you ask him."

You nodded, listening to the rumble of his chest as he spoke.

It was a good thing that you weren't hungry, because it would have been disappointing as two grown men and teenage boy with the munchies demolished your batch of pancakes.

"Call if you need anything." Ramsay said, grabbing your ass and kissing your forehead as he pulled on his coat.

"Be careful. I love you." You said, watching your husband and Damon leave.

"Love you too, baby doll." Ramsay replied, shutting the door behind him.

You sat on the couch, petting Herman, who had jumped up beside you.

This was awkward. At a house where the two people who owned it were gone. Left with a kid who should of been in his senior year of high school, not sitting here. And no idea what to even say to him. Joking and talking with him around Ramsay and the Boys was one thing... But this was weird. Ramsay must have planned this on purpose. Bastard.

"You can watch whatever." Matt finally said after twenty minutes of awkward silence.

"Are you okay?" You asked.

Matt sat up straight, "Are you?" His eyes went wide and he looked afraid, wishing he could take his words back.

"I don't really know, to be honest. It's weird isn't it? To kill someone. I mean, it's one thing to just shoot someone, but to torture them..." You said, giving a kind smile.

Matt nodded, "yeah. I don't know what I expected... getting into this, I mean. I should of finished school."

"Why didnt you?"

"Didn't see a point. Never met my dad. Mom is a strung out, crank whore who lives with a guy who beats the hell out if her. Had me when she was fifteen and was never really a mom. She said I was on my own when she got with him. He wouldn't let me stay. Next thing I know I'm sixteen and living on the streets. Bum around with some pals, trying to do school. But just gave up. Got into stealing and selling drugs to get by. I'd be dead if it wasn't for Ramsay. I owe him my life. Him and Damon."

Sadness filled you as you watched the boy talk. You couldn't imagine.

"Well do you have any hobbies? I know you said Ramsay caught you tagging an alley wall, and I've seen cars you've painted." You said, trying to figure this kid out.

"I'm alright at art. Always wanted to be a tattoo artist." Matt shrugged.

"Then do it, kid. You're one of the Boys now. You're family. Sometimes blood is not thicker than water. You wanna tat, then do it. I will find you a shop. Tat the Boys until you're confident enough in your work. I know they like to give you shit, but if they didn't like you they would of killed you already. Anything you need, just say the word."

Matt looked at you through his bloodshot eyes. "Anything?"

You nodded with a smile.

"I need to see my mom. I haven't heard from her in over a year. I don't know if she's even alive. I just need to know." Matt said with a sigh, staring down at his hands.

You stood, "then let's go."

Matt looked up at you, clearly startled. "We can't just... I mean...?"

You snorted, "you're to do what I say. Perks of being the Boss's wife. And I say we are going to go see what we can find out about your mother."

You grabbed up your purse after sliding your coat on, and pulling the Jeep keys from Ramsay's discarded jacket from last night.

"Ready?" You asked kindly.

Matt pulled his hat on and gave a small nod.

"Hold down the fort, Herman. I believe in you." You said, glancing back at the kitten who was trying to catch dust in the ray of sunlight from a window.

"I can't guarantee she's here. But this was the last place she was when I saw her last." Matt said, standing outside the door.

You knocked on the door. You could hear cursing and dogs aggressively barking on the other side of the door.

A series of clicking locks could be heard and a very angry looking older man cracked the door.

"What do you want?" He grunted.

"I'm looking for Ros who used to stay here." You said, feeling this was not going to be easy.

"Don't know no Ros and I don't talk to no undercovers." The man said slamming the door in your face.

You exchanged a look with Matt. Anger was beyond him.

"That him?" You asked.

Words seemed to fail the poor kid and he was only able to nod, turning his hat backward, reaching in his jacket for his gun.

You pulled Ice Cream from your coat pocket and took a deep breath.

"Ready when you are, hon." You said, fingering the safety as Matt kicked down the door.

"The fuck?!" The man raged as two aggressive dogs rushed Matt.

He shot both, point blank as if it was nothing.

"You can't be here without a warrant you fucking bitch!" The man shouted, pulling his own gun from the couch cushion.

It must have been your insanity that kept you calm.

"I'm not here on police business. I'm here on mob business. If you don't cooperate, I will kill you. Where is Ros?" You said, finally pushing the safety off, slightly excited to finally use your Christmas present.

"Bath-bathroom." The man wheezed, holding his hands up in surrender as you and Matt held him at gunpoint.

You glanced around the nasty home. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in 5 years or more. The smell was awful. You stepped lightly, avoiding the dog shit and caked on muck as you made your way down the hall. You opened the first door you came to and cried out in anguish.

There chained to bedposts were two teenage girls. They were both covered in their own filth. The urge to throw up was more than you could take as you went slightly dizzy.

You stumbled back into the living room.

"How many?!" You shouted.

The man gave a wicked toothless grin and spit on the floor.

"I always have room for one more." He cackled.

Without thinking you pulled your gun up and shot the man in the gut. He screeched, falling to the ground.

"Take his gun." You barked rather aggressively at Matt, pulling your phone from your pocket.

"Yes, my pet?"

"I'm sending you an address. Be here in no more than ten." You said, words shaking in suppressed rage. You hung up and looked around again. "If he so much as moves, kill him."

You set off through the house again, opening doors and finding more girls. Finally you found the bathroom where three women sat. All three chained by the ankles to a metal pipe in the wall.

"Is one of you Ros?" You asked, pulling your shirt up over your nose.

The woman nearest you raised her hand.

"Ros, my name is (y/n). I'm here with your son, Matt. We're going to get you all out of here." You said kindly, putting your gun away and fighting the urge to gag.

The woman dropped to her knees, sobbing. You watched her, anger boiling.

You stormed back to Matt and the nasty old man.

"What's your name?" You demanded, kicking the man.

"Fuck you bitch." He choked, clutching his side.

"What's your fucking name you nasty piece of shit?" You yelled, pulling your gun again.

"Fuck. You." He hissed, looking up at you.

You pulled the trigger. The sight of the destroyed eye socket not nearly as sickening as it should of been, compared to the filth of this house and the things going on here. Your anger and disgust only increased, and you pulled the trigger again, furiously pulling the trigger even after your clip was unloaded, the hot tears coming fast on your cheeks.

"You nasty fucking monster!" You screamed at the dead man.

Ramsay and Damon came rushing inside, guns at the ready, and both stopping dead, swallowing thickly as the smell hit them. You practically saw the color drain from their faces and eyes water as they stepped backward.

"The fuck is going on here?" Ramsay demanded, covering his nose and mouth in the crook of his elbow.

"It's a funny story, and we will be glad to tell you over beers and cheese fries, but right now we have work to do. Every room in this house, other than this one is full of three to five women. All are chained." You said, dropping your gun to your side again.

"I leave you alone for an hour and now I have to play vigilante good guy. I'm not a vigilante good guy, baby girl. I'm a psycho serial killer." Ramsay said, pocketing his gun and glancing around.

You could see the disgust in his eyes at the amount of filth.

"Baby, please. But first, there's a woman in the bathroom. Her name is Ros. I need her."

"Kid, make an anonymous call and tip off the police. Let them do their job." Damon said, lip curled in disgust as he stepped further into the trailer.

×××

"You are in so much trouble." Ramsay growled, slamming the bedroom door.

You dropped your shoulders and simply nodded, "yes sir."

"What were you thinking?! You could of been hurt! You had no idea what you were walking into!" He raged, voice strangled, running his hands through his hair.

"Baby, stop please. I know what I did was foolish. And you're right, I had no idea what I was walking into. It wasn't supposed to go the way it did. Matt just wanted to see his mom. To know she was alive. And it just... well, went really fucking weird."

"I'll say. You're like a sex slave magnet. Or is that what you want? Use your husband's scary reputation to free poor girls who are used for sex?"

"It was a fucking coincidence. But if that's what it took. And in case you didn't notice I handled it just fine on my own!" You said defensively.

He clenched his jaw, making a frustrated noise, running his hands through his hair again. Clearly struggling against the urge to come undone.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Baby girl, I refuse to let you put yourself in harm's way. For fuckssake, just behave. I won't ask again. Do you understand me?"

You watched him. Examining him closely, you saw he looked exhausted, upset, and he was still overly pale.

"Yes, daddy. I promise. I'm sorry. I just... wanted to show the kid that he's family too. You like him. He's broken and confused and angry. Just like you were. Circumstances are very different, but I know he reminds you of you. You're tailoring him to have a bigger part in your little scheme you have going in your mind. Just wanted to do something good." You sighed, sitting heavily on the bed.

"We aren't good people. You've killed three men in a month. You even tortured one. And if you ever do something as stupid as you did today, you will regret it." Ramsay said, turning on his heel to leave.

"Oh my god." You said with a gasp. "You were scared!"

Ramsay stopped, hand on the door knob. He said nothing, threw the door open and left.

×××

You sat on the couch, playing with Herman when Charlotte came and sat next to you.

You decided she wasn't as bad as you first thought. Maybe you could get her story out of her like you did Matt. You were on a roll after all. Becoming an expert at getting down to brass tacks with people and their secrets.

"Where are the Boys?"

"Dunno. I guess they're still working on getting a safe house set up?" You shrugged.

"Ah, I see. So, what happened to your cheek?" She asked, watching you closely through her hazel eyes, pulling her blonde hair to one side.

"A man who will be dead soon." You shrugged, staring at the floor.

"You okay? You look miserable."

"No. Not miserable. Just... confused?"

"About?"

You sighed, "I've killed people."

"So you feel guilty? Tell Ramsay. Be honest with him. He worships you. We all see it. I don't think he'd make you do it if it upsets you. He doesn't want to see you down in the dumps." Charlotte suggested.

You gave a dry laugh, "that's the problem. I'm not upset about taking peoples lives and that is what upsets me. I'm turning into a monster and it doesn't bother me. I want it to. I want to feel sorry. I should be sorry. But I'm just... not. I'm upset because I'm not upset. Does that make sense?"

"I suppose. But sweetheart... what did all of these men do?" She asked.

You stared at her, not taking the time to under stand her question.

"Charlotte, I tortured a man I didn't know! I cut off his fucking finger!" You cried out, throwing your arms up, and scaring Herman who streaked from the couch to hide under the recliner.

"A scumbag." She said, pulling you back into the couch and giving you a sisterly hug. It caught you off guard.

"Who was the first guy?"

"My ex boyfriend." You sniffed.

"What did he do to you?" She asked, pulling away from you.

"Physically and emotionally hurt me." You said, dropping your eyes to your lap.

"The guy you tortured? He was just the same. He wanted so badly to date rape you, I could smell it on him when I stole you away. And that nasty man today... Just look what he was doing. You've killed men who abuse women. Who think they are better than us. Who think they can own us and do whatever they wish to us. You rid the world of three men who would have kept hurting other girls."

You looked back up at her. Her words calmed you. But then Ramsay's words sounded.

"But Ramsay..." You began slowly.

"Does what he thinks is right. That's all there is to it. Really no good or bad. Just what we think to be the right thing. It goes beyond cops and robbers. It's what you believe in your heart to be right. If killing women abusing men is what is right to you, why should you feel guilty about not feeling guilty?"

"What's your story?" You asked, glancing at the TV as the 5:00 news signal chimed.

Charlotte turned her attention to the TV too.

The news anchorman wasted no time in starting off his hour:

"Tonight we start out with a breaking story from the south side, where late this morning police were given an anonymous call about an underground sex torture ring where sixteen women, ages thirteen to forty-five were found on the two acres of land owned by the man. Some chained in a shed, and the others residing in the house. Reporter Talisa is on the scene with lead Dectective Robb Stark."

The picture changed to a woman standing beside Robb Stark.

"Thank you, Yhon. I'm here with Dectective Stark at the home they are calling Craster's Keep. What can you tell us, detective?"

"So far we have uncovered the remains of no less than fifty persons, ranging from infant to adult, buried in deep pit on the edge of the land. After receiving the tip we arrived to find Craster dead, with multiple gun shot..."

You turned back to Charlotte, waiting on her answer. Her eyes seemed far away as she chewed her lip. She drew a long, deep breath.

"When I was seventeen I was smuggled into human trafficking. I left my home country, never to return. The most evil man I've met abducted me. Abused me for about three years or so until I was finally sold off as an exotic mail order. Was married to a wrinkly old windbag. He died of a heart attack and I was hoping to go back home. But, I was grabbed up again. Same shit, different man. Anyways, I was working as a show girl, and I saw Damon. He caught my pimp beating me in the alley behind the casino, and took me. Killed my pimp and took me to a church and told me he was marrying me. I was just like, okay. Used to this by now. But he's good to me."

"What about all the women I see him with?" You blurted before you could stop yourself.

Charlotte laughed until she cried, "think they're for him?"

You gaped, "really?"

She grinned, "yeah. I like to lay with women too. Damon and I... we have a thing. It works for us. I don't believe in love. It's not for me. But Damon... he's a good guy. He gives me freedom."

"What do you do? Like work wise?" You asked, suddenly very curious of this woman. And even Damon. You had never really liked him. But the last 24 hours had shown you a side of both Damon and Ramsay you didn't know.

"During the day I'm a boring sales rep at a car lot. But at night I'm a stripper." She shrugged.

"What's it like?" You asked, glancing her over.

"Well, car sales are boring. Though, I'm sure you didn't mean that." She said, giving you a sly grin.

Your cheeks warmed.

"It's fun. And men can talk all the shit they want, but pole dancing will keep you in shape better than any other work out known to man kind." She glanced at your belly, and gave you a wink as she rose from the couch.

Cheeks were definitely warm now.

"I... I don't think I could." You admitted.

"You can. Come on. It's fun. I doubt your husband would object. Come to the dance studio with me tomorrow. It's a Sunday, it'll be mostly empty. I won't push you. But it'll keep you fit, and limber. You'll need that. Trust me."

You followed her to the kitchen, "you have children?"

"One. But she's better off without me. They took her as soon as she was born. I never even knew what color her hair was."

You leaned against the door frame, "you're different than I thought you would be."

"Yeah. I was really strung out over Christmas. Just a dark place." She nodded, pulling the freezer open. "Any ideas for dinner?"

"Not really. I'd like to cook something though. I miss cooking." You sighed, again, missing home.

[theaspiringwanderess]

Packing For The West Coast Trail; Essentials, Clothing and Food

Return to My WCT Story | Booking: Reservations/Transport | Clothing, Essential Items, Recommended Items, Optional Items, Food

You Don’t Need The Kitchen Sink - Trust Me

Packing is a BIG deal for the WCT. It’s a lot to pack and there’s the pressure of not getting caught without the essential gear while keeping it all at a manageable weight. My first WCT trek I vastly over packed a 53lbs bag! It killed my hike and was hard on my body and most of the extra was food I hated, which was the worst. My second time I managed 38lbs and it went down dramatically as I ate! I packed everything on each list below (minus the book which i forgot and the GPS which I didnt bring) and still kept it at 38lbs including my food. Always opt for the lightest version. Cut size where you can, even the smallest items eventually add up (ex. some people cut off tooth brush handles, I have a rain shell instead of a full jacket, a double foam sleeping mat is much lighter - but bigger- than a blow-up mattress, an ultra light single unit stove, etc)... One spork for all and all for one spork!

Clothing

The proper clothing is a key factor in keeping you dry, warm/cool and happy. It’s important to keep it light weight but you also must be certain it’s functional for your needs. In 2016, my sister brought a rain jacket she tested and thought was waterproof. A full day of beach hiking in pouring rain later, not only did she learn the hard way it was not, but poor girl was cold, soaked and shivering too hard to do anything but shiver. Be 100% sure about your gear. You also want to be selective about fabrics. Avoid cotton, which retains moisture, and feather/down which loses its loft (heat trapping ability) when damp. Merino wool is a great bet to stay warm and dry and is the best option for socks and sweaters. Synthetic, sweat-wicking active wear is light weight and dries quickly for the daily hike. I also prefer my leggings and shorts to have a zip-up pocket or two. 

I pack my clothing in a waterproof stuff-sack, and I put tanks in one small ziplock, underwear and bras in another, and pjs in a third so they stay dry, clean and easy to find. I keep a safeway bag for dirty clothing and my lesser used items at the bottom (towel, bathing suite).

I always pack my sleeping bag in a garbage bag every morning before it goes in my pack. In the event I fall in a creek... or the ocean?... it’ll add a level of extra water-proof protection. I also re-waterproofed my Lowa hiking boots for the first time ever... this is their second visit to the WCT after all. And, as a random side note, don’t plan to wash your clothes on the WCT. I’ve seen so many people make this mistake. Trust me, nothing that gets wet will dry. EVER. If you have a sunny day, air it out, dry it in the sun, pack it up in a ziplock.

It’s important to note everyone has different needs. You might be ok with 2 pairs of hiking socks! Or one pair of leggings... This is just what worked best for me based on the experiences of both my trips. Customize your WCT adventure-wear as you see fit ;)

3 tank tops, active wear / workout (sweat wicking, not cotton!)

2 pairs of leggings, active wear / workout (seat wicking and stretchy for flexibility and comfort with zip pockets)

2 pairs of workout shorts (sweat wicking and stretchy, w/zip pockets)

3 pairs of merino wool hiking socks

1 pair of wooly socks to sleep in (in case you get cold)

2 pairs of sock liners (major blister prevention technique)

PJs: 1 tank top, 1 merino wool sweater, 1 pair merino leggings or light weight sweat pants

1 or 2 long sleeved sweater(s) active wear / sweat wicking (to wear under your rain jacket or as a warming option in morning) *I took one, but in the event you’re sweaty or expect a lot of rain, 2 is advisable.

3 pairs of underwear active wear / workout (or merino wool if you want to splurge) *for women 7 panty liners (1 per day) to extend your underwear life.

1 bathing suite top (use a pair of used shorts for bottoms and you’ll double their use and wash them at the same time!) ... or dudes wear just your shorts of course!

Essential Items

*For your emergency kit it is extremely important to bring allergy and pain meds. Unexpected reactions and injuries happen all the time. On my Murtle Lake canoe trip, my friend had a terrible reaction to the abundance of mosquitos for the first time in her life and I myself, not having allergies, have come away from the WCT with skin infections and allergic reactions. On average 80-100 hikers a year are emergency evacuated from the WCT due to injury or inability to continue.

1 good hiking backpack with hip belt & chest strap & RAIN COVER

1 pair waterproof hiking boots high top - comfortable, already broken in

1 pair hiking gaiters (protect against ticks, bugs, keeps pants, legs and boots dry, shields mud!)

WCT Trail Map, Tide Tables (provided by parks staff)

WCT overnight pass copy (in a ziplock bag somewhere safe)

$160 minimum cash for water taxi, crab shack, chez moniques (in a ziplock bag somewhere safe)

1 pair ultra-light sandals

1 waterproof rain jacket

1 towel (very small, microfibre recommended)

bear spray

single size cooking stove (I love my jetboil flash lite)

cooking stove fuel for 7 days (2 small cans or one large 230 g can)

long handled spork (this titanium one is the shiznit!)

emergency whistle

emergency kit (gauze, medical tape, various sized bandages, disinfecting/antibiotic cream, a few tabs of common medications such as tylonel, asprin, allergy treatments like benedryl or reactin).

2 regular toilet paper rolls with cardboard tube removed (in a ziplock)

Fire Starters:

1 lighter & 1 flint striker (learn how to use it! This is a great video)

Dependable fire starter (2 or 3 tiny balls of dryer lint rolled with a small amount of unscented vaseline inside a ziplock bag work great in wet weather and will burn for 10-15 mins)

sunscreen

2 (1 litre) water bottles OR 1 bottle and a 2 litre camel back water bag

Water purification tabs (my go-to is Pristine brand). Ensure they are the 30 minute variety (not 1-3 hours). Alternatively some people use a UV light but this does require batteries and adds weight

tarp, lightweight

paracord (15 m or 50 ft)

2 carabiners, 1 that can hold 50 lbs, 1 small light (for random things)

1 sleeping bag, synthetic fill (ideally good for +5 celcius)

1 waterproof tent with rainfly (*I have a cheap 2 person waterproof coleman tent with a tarp bottom that I later bought replacement aluminum poles for. The poles made a 5lb tent a 3lb tent - impressive investment. I pack the poles and my friend the tent body = 1.5lb/each)

cell phone (I use my phone camera a lot so I brought 2 backup chargers. Solar charging is not an option given fog)

3 extra large black garbage bags and  

3 large ziplocks (for trash, as an emergency poncho, keep feet dry in wet boots, the uses are endless)

1 pocket knife

1 flashlight

sunglasses

closed cell foam sleeping pad or light weight blow up mattress pad

1 watch, battery or wind-up water proof or at least resistant - digital watches can get damaged when wet or expensive watches ruined)

1 poop trowel.. yes you read that correctly - the plastic kind

1 bug spray (there weren’t many bugs, lots of wind though!)

2 travel sized hand sanitizers (for covid & as well after nature’s call)

1 emergency blanket

1 small soap or body wash (environmentally friendly brand)

1 travel toothpaste & toothbrush [small]

gloves (fingerless mesh back type for weight lifting is best)

neck gaiter (*instead of a hat - can double as a hat)

Other Recommended Items

unscented lip balm... you don’t want to smell like a walking buffet

1 light weight sleeping bag liner to keep sand and dirt out (I prefer silk)

ball cap or foam visor *non-water absorbing (this can be worn on a sunny day or under a rain hood to keep rain off your face).

1 emergency plastic poncho

1-2 hair ties (it gets wet and windy and they double as pack ties!)

sweat band

baby wipes (good for cleaning your face, or dishes...)

a small book or time passer (don’t bring a giant novel)

Items I’d Consider Optional

rain pants (*optional as long as you have a long waterproof rain jacket. gaiters provide extra leg protection or if its warm don shorts! skin dries)

small camera with good battery life (not necessary if you use your phone)

pen and paper for notes or emergencies

small GPS or Spot satellite device

1 waterproof phone case (if you bring a phone)

1 extra light pillow (optional - i had one this time but usually use my sweater)

Food Recommendations

On the WCT you are expending roughly 3000-4000+ calories per day. That’s more than double the average 120lb marathon runner going hard for 2 hours if they ran 12 miles. You are Climbing, Hauling, Pushing, and your feet are operating at the agility level of “expert cat on steroids”. So, essentially you NEED the calories. But packing the right amount (and weight) of food is challenging. I’m happy to report this time I ate it all by the end so it was the perfect amount. If you find you are running low or forgot something, you might be able to grab it from the Nitinaht crab shack and likewise if you over pack you can leave extra food there for someone else. But please, do NOT leave garbage.

**Note, I must, must stress - DO NOT leave garbage on the trail. There is no garbage removal service. Parks staff do not remove it and with covid there are fewer staff in general. Garbage is a major bear attractant and you put others at risk leaving it behind. 2021 is a year with only Canadians allowed on the WCT and the amount of garbage was appalling.

The WCT, and island in general, is VERY humid. It’s best to bring items in individual packages, otherwise things clump or mush. On our first trip, my sister brought important medications that melted and became extremely difficult to take. My advice is to pack any daily meds you must bring in the plastic containers with individual days. This way if something similar happens to you, you can still be safe knowing the amount taken.

Additionally, I work with a very simple but effective system of ziplock bags. This keeps everything fresh, organized, and easy to find as you go. I have one large ziplock for breakfasts, one for lunch & snacks, and one for dinner. As I finish breakfast I move it to the bottom of my bear bag and put lunch/snacks on top for easy access and so on - Ta-da!

I consider lunch and snacks the same thing as we never stopped for a cooked meal mid-day. In 2016 my sister talked me into doing dried lentil dinners and it was the WORST (... for me, she loved it!). It made it hard for me to want to eat, which was a big set back. I have this vivid memory burned into my brain from our first trip of an adorable father - daughter duo whom we criss-crossed a lot. One rainy day he had her tucked up under a tree eating the most delicious looking meat and cheese sandwich and my instant thought was ‘awww, so cute... I’d kill you for that sandwich though...”. Who knew a sandwich could insight such murderous intent?!

My lesson learned was when it comes to physically demanding, multi-day hikes, pack healthy but also things you enjoy eating. I strive for light weight first and foremost. I love fruit but it doesn’t pack well, so items like fruit leathers work well. Real, individually wrapped, cheese sticks are a great too; by day 5 they get soft or oily, but they never go bad (harder cheeses like cheddar are naturally preserved), so I stick to 4 or 5 day cheese supplies. My ultra-favourite hiking snack - individual wrapped rice crispy squares! I pack 2 per day... and a couple extra for desserts! I never packed enough of each junk food to have one for every day, instead with treats I generally aimed to have 4-5 of each and mix it up. In between hikes, I also spend some time picking up and trying different types of nuts. Don’t get me wrong, peanuts are good, but after 4 days they get pretty boring. I often pop into a Winners or Home Sense store and look for enticing types of nut mixes and I’ll keep them in my car to snack on and decide if its a keeper.

Im also very careful about toothbrushing too because prolonged periods of hiking without proper dental care wrecks havoc on your teeth.

Ok! Down to the nitty-gritty! My dinner ziplock has 1 dinner for each night and sometimes a hot (dehydrated) dessert. And I have a small ziplock for items like my toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash slips, and anything else that might need to go in the bear bag. Again, I’ll preface this by saying its important to note everyone’s needs are unique and based on the experiences of both my trips, this is the food I packed.

Breakfast Ziplock

7-8 easy breakfasts (i pack 1 peaches & cream oatmeal for each morning and an extra in case we missed the bus).

coffee - starbucks via’s have been my favs! but nescafe also makes individual coffees and a fab toffee nut cappuccino option!

sugar and powdered creamer (individual pkgs) & tea in a smaller ziplock

a smaller ziplock for toothbrush/paste, body wash etc

Lunch / Snacks Ziplock

bag of beef jerky

individual (real) cheese sticks (usually cheddar, or a hard variety works best, soft cheese goes bad faster)

a few bags of different varieties of nuts (*lemon sea salt almonds, tamari nut mix, cilantro lime cashews, Dare brand Vietnamese coffee flavoured macadamia nuts)

2 bags snack sized hawkins cheezies

5 individually pkgd M&M’s chocolate & oatmeal cookies (*the M&M cookies were crumbly, the oatmeal squished but stuck together!)

16 Rice crispy squares - my ultra-fav hiking snack, individually wrapped (2 per day + couple extras)

4 fruit leather bars in a smaller ziplock

4 snack sized oh-henrys in a smaller ziplock

2 bags Stinger caffeine gummies & 2 capsules Nuune electrolyte/caffeine tabs in a smaller ziplock

Dinner Ziplock

1 dinner for each night and sometimes a hot (dehydrated) dessert

Presidents Choice brand (bagged) vegetarian chili *this was a new try for me, normally I advocate for dry only food because wet is messy, can leak, is heavy and can go bad fast. BUT! I ate this the first night on the trail so it was gone quickly, and it stood up to the abuse and was only $3!

AlpineAire potato cheddar soup (dehydrated) is my fav dinner. fast, hot, make in the bag, and tasty!

2 Stove Top brand stuffing; cut a small hole, let out the air, retape. write water and instructions on the bag. Throw away the box. (*mix with 1 pkg gravy)

1 Instant mashed potatoes; cut a small hole, let out the air, retape. write water and instructions on the bag. Throw away the box. (*mix with 1 pkg gravy) - FYI this is a BIG meal, make only what you can eat or bring a smaller amount if you cant eat the whole thing.

3 pkgs reduced salt gravy mix

1 Nomad Nutrition vegetarian shepards pie dehydrated meal.

1 dehydrated dessert hot option (maple rice pudding this time!)

Return to My WCT Story | Booking: Reservations/Transport |

[ghostbustermelanieking]

luminosity

part of the half-light universe, set post miraculous and the ending scene of chapter 15. 

They find out when she has another nosebleed. It's after dinner, William curled sleepily in Mulder's lap while they watch Jeopardy. She's working on grading papers, lost in the scratch of her pen and Alex Trebek’s voice in the background when Mulder says something that doesn't start with a cocky, “What is…?” “Scully,” he says, terrified.

Scully looks up, confused. “What…” Mulder motions to her nose, face sheet-white. She brings her hand to her nose and feels the trickle of blood.

At any other point in her life (in either reality), this particular ailment likely would've made her blood run cold with terror. But she feels curiously calm. Somehow, she knows what it is. “It's okay, Mulder,” she says, reaching across the cushions and taking his hand.

His eyes are wide; he reaches out and touches her face. “Scully, what if it's…”

“It's okay,” she repeats. She gives him a small smile before turning and reaching for the Kleenex.

“Mama?” Behind the wad of Kleenex she's pressed to her nose, she can see William staring at her in a similar way to how Mulder is looking at her, eyes wide with fear. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie,” she says, voice muffled by tissues. “I'm fine.”

William crawls off of Mulder's lap and onto hers. “You have a boo-boo?”

She pinches her nose and lowers the wad of Kleenex. “Sort of.” She wraps her arms around her son. “But I'm okay now.”

William kisses her cheek at the corner of her nose. “Better now.”

“That's right.” She kisses the top of his dark head and looks past him to Mulder.

Mulder is looking at her with less panic, though it hasn't completely faded. “Scully, you don't think it could be… like last time?” he asks softly, motioning to William where he can't see because he's got his face buried in her shoulder.

“I do,” Scully says calmly, rubbing their son's back. It makes sense now that she thinks about it: the nausea in the morning, the period she'd missed last month. She'd been autopsying on a massive serial killer investigation that lasted nearly a month, and had chalked everything up to stress. Somehow, she hadn't even considered the possibilities, but now. Now…

“We need to find out,” Mulder says stubbornly. He grabs her hand from William's back and holds on tight. “We need to find out right away.”

She would argue with him, but he's clearly focused on his goal, unable to give up on it. “Okay,” she says. “Why don't I go read Will his story and you can go on?”

Mulder nods, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before letting her go. She stands, scooping up William and holding him on her hip. “You're getting too big to be held like this,” she says to Will, smoothing his hair.

“Not too big!” William wriggles in her arms. “Not too big, Mama!”

“Too big for Mama, maybe,” Mulder says, and Scully socks him in the arm. He stands and leans down to kiss William. “Good night, buddy.” He ruffles his hair. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Daddy,” says William. “You did really good in Jeopardy.”

Mulder laughs. “Thanks, Will. It means a lot.” His eyes meet Scully's. “I'll be right back,” he says softly. She nods.

She tucks William in, reads two books and kisses him goodnight, leaves the door cracked just like always. She finds Mulder in the kitchen, strangling a Walgreens bag in his hand. “I got it,” he says abruptly, shoving it at Scully.

“Thank you.” She takes the bag and sets it on the counter. “It's okay, Mulder, really,” she says soothingly, putting a hand on his jaw.

“Are you sure?” He's apprehensive, practically bouncing.

“I'm not, but we'll know in a few minutes.” She motions to the bag on the counter. “And besides that, this feels different than when I was sick. It feels the same as it was with William.”

His eyes widen; he looks down at her stomach, still flat under her overlarge t-shirt she stole from his drawer. “It does?”

“It does,” she confirms. She leans forward and kisses his cheek. “It's okay, Mulder. Go check on William. I'll be out in a few minutes.”

When she's done with the pregnancy test, she sets it on the counter, sits on the floor and counts silently, fingers tangled in her lap. She hopes, she hopes. She pictures the pink positive sign in the little window. She hasn't thought about having more kids since William was born, but she's certainly never been opposed to it. Some part of her always wanted William to have siblings. And Mulder… Mulder has wanted more kids for years now. She moves a hand to cover her stomach, thinks of the last time she did this, in the other place: in a shabby motel bathroom, crouching on the grimy tiles, terror coursing through her, turning to relief as the negative sign had popped up on the little stick. She feels none of that now, only anticipation. She has her son, she's not going to send him away again. She has Mulder and they are happy. They're a family, the three of them, and she wouldn't mind it becoming four. She hopes it will.

She checks her watch, reaches for the test where she left it on the counter. Smiles.

Mulder is waiting for her when she comes out, looking down at his shoes. His head shoots up as she exits, nervousness dancing across his face. “Scully?”

She grins at him, handing him the test. “Remember how you wanted another kid?”

His eyes light up and he gathers her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. “You're… you're pregnant?” he says into her hair. She nods into his shoulder, arms tightly around his neck. He laughs, elated. “That's amazing! That's amazing… Scully…”

“I know,” she whispers, pressing her nose into the side of his neck. Her heart is pounding so hard that she thinks Mulder must be able to feel it. That the baby must be able to feel it. The baby, she thinks and smiles, tightening her arms around Mulder. He cups the back of her head, tipping it back and kissing her face again and again. She giggles wildly, smiling so much that it hurts. “Mulder,” she whispers, fingers curling into his hair. “We're gonna do this all over again.”

“I know.” He kisses her forehead, her nose, her mouth. “Maybe without the UFO risk this time.”

She laughs, kissing him again. “That's the hope.”

He gathers her closer, chin on top of her head. “Scully,” he whispers. “We're gonna have another baby.”

“I know,” she says into his t-shirt, and smiles again. They're going to have a baby. Everything is different in this universe, and they are going to have a baby.

---

They tell William a few days later, and he is excited, especially at the prospect of eventually having a new playmate. Melissa sends congratulations and a muffin basket with Monica to work. There is excitement from both sides of the family and it is dizzying, although the whole thing is considerably less dramatic than the last time Scully found out she was pregnant. Mulder is there when they find out, for the first time, and there are no abductions or UFOs this time. There are no visions, this time, no dreams of their future child telling her what's real and what isn't. This baby is a complete stranger. No underlying guilt or panic, just excitement and the scariness of being new parents without the underlying fear that they will lose this child, that it will all end badly. Just happiness.

Scully notices that nearly four months after they find out is the anniversary of Mulder's abduction. She doesn't realize until sometime after William has gone to bed. Mulder's gone on a case and Monica had called to say that they were getting on a flight home a few hours before, but the nerves still rise up when she remembers the date. She tells herself that this universe is different, that he's coming back this time, that it's going to be okay. She sits up and watches TV late into the night, her hand pressed against her stomach where the baby is moving. When he comes in the door, exhaustion written on his face, she doesn't get up and rush to hug him in relief. She takes his hand calmly as he sits beside her and leans over to kiss him gently. “Miss me?” he teases, hand moving over the slight roundness of her stomach.

“You have no idea,” she says, smiling softly.

They bicker over names, over whether the baby's a boy or a girl, over paint colors for the baby's room. Scully has something of a theory that Mulder picked this apartment because of the extra bedroom across from William's room that they'd turned into an office. In the end, they end up moving most of the items into Mulder's office and give the desk to Samantha. (She got a degree in journalism and is pursuing a job in investigative journalism after a brief stint freelancing for the Gunmen. Mulder likes to joke that it's ironic that his sister wants to be a reporter, the sworn enemy of law enforcement. Samantha claims it's revenge for all the teasing when they were kids.) William insists on helping paint the baby's room, which ends in the only way a situation like that possibly could: with William and Mulder both covered in paint and tiny handprints all over the wall. Scully can't stop laughing. She takes at least half a roll of pictures. Mulder kisses her in the midst of the bare bones of the crib and leaves green handprints on her white shirt.

Scully has nightmares in the last few months of her pregnancy--not nearly as vivid as the flashbacks she'd had in the early years of her partnership with Mulder (here), but still awful. (Mulder theorizes that it has something to do with her pregnancy. She's not entirely sure.) But still: winter of 2001 she associates with Mulder's death, Mulder's gravestone cold under her palm and grave dirt under her fingernails, and William kicking furiously, kicking for the very first time as she'd crouched beside Mulder's grave and she'd sobbed, pressing one hand to her stomach and the other to the stone. She has nightmares about Mulder gone, William gone, and wakes up gasping for breath.

Whenever this happens, Mulder kisses her forehead, wipes tears from her cheeks, whispers, “I'm here,” over and over again until her breathing slows and she feels anchored to earth again. She grips both of his hands and presses her forehead into his shoulder; he hugs her tightly and she remembers where they are.

William comes and crawls in bed sometimes, and she is relieved every time it happens. He likes to talk to the baby, likes to recount his day excitedly as he curls between them. She breathes easy with Mulder and William's breaths right beside her and the baby kicking furiously under her palm. “She's as restless as her father,” she says to Mulder one nightmare-less night, smoothing William's dark hair absently as he sleeps between them.

“You don't know that it's a girl,” Mulder says sleepily, grinning at her.

“Mmm. I know,” she whispers. “Trust me, Mulder.” Mulder's hand migrates to the spot where the baby's foot is fluttering and Scully drifts off to sleep, warm and dreamless.

Their daughter is born in March of 2001, a freezing Saturday. They have to leave early in the morning, as soon as Samantha comes over to take William to Baltimore, and Mulder makes her take his coat as they drive to the hospital, his fingers white around the steering wheel. Scully focuses on breathing, her hand on her stomach.

They haven't decided on a name yet; they've been bickering for months now, and Scully tries to keep it going, breathing in short gasps, teeth clenched and voice sharp. Mulder has more or less given up at this point, trying to dodge her provokes and holding her hand. He lets her squeeze his fingers as she pushes, kisses her temple as the doctor holds up the baby, dark-haired and squalling. “We have a daughter,” he whispers. “Scully. You were right. We have a daughter.”

Tears flood her eyes as the doctors lay the baby on her chest; she cups the baby's wet head under her hand and sniffles. “Hi, sweetie,” she murmurs. The baby whimpers, blinking up at her with huge, dark eyes that remind her of Samantha. Mulder is trembling, offering his hand to the baby and letting her curl her small hand around his pointer finger. Scully is shaking, too, tears trickling down her face; she kisses their daughter's forehead tenderly. “We've got you,” she says. “We've got you.” The baby fusses, waving an arm. Scully kisses her again, overwhelmed, holding her close to try and keep her warm. A tear hits the top of her head as Mulder strokes the baby's tiny back.

The nurses come and take the baby to clean her up, and Scully immediately misses her presence. She delivers the placenta quickly, and leans back into Mulder’s warmth as soon as it's over. He kisses her damp hair again, arms wrapping around her from behind. “We did it, Scully,” he says.

They are both watching the baby in the corner. Scully rests her head lazily against his bicep, eyes tracing over their daughter again and again. “What was that name you liked?” she whispers.

“Which one?”

“The one,” Scully says stubbornly. She wishes she could remember what it is, but her brain is scrambled, she can't think. “You know. The one. It's perfect for her.”

Mulder's quiet for a minute before offering, “Lily?”

Scully sniffles, smiling. “Yeah,” she says. “That one. Lily. It fits her.”

(Later, she will seemingly change her mind: when Lily is in the nursery and they are both supposed to be napping, breaking hospital protocol for Mulder to be curled around her on the hospital bed, she pokes him hard in the arm, snapping him out of the brink of sleep. “Lily Scully.”

“Hmm,” Mulder murmurs. “You don't like it anymore?”

“It's annoyingly phonetic, Mulder, what were we thinking? I can't believe you talked me into this.”

“If it bothers you, she could always be Lily Mulder,” he offers, eyes still closed.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Scully says, disgusted. “God, and don't get me started on Lily and William. It's a good thing they're four years apart, because otherwise everyone would think they're twins.”

Mulder opens his eyes lazily. “No one's going to comment, I'm sure…”

“Oh, god, people are gonna want to call them Lily and Billy. Or Lily and Willie.” She sounds genuinely worried and annoyed. Mulder, even in his tired state, finds it slightly adorable.

“We made a pact that we'd only ever call him Will or William,” he reminds her. “Remember? No more variations on Bill, we agreed.”

“Oh, no one will listen to that,” Scully says with disgust. “My grandmother called Bill William and Charlie Charles for her entire life. Even though she knew they hated it.”

He pushes hair behind her ear. “Do you want to change it?”

“No,” she growls. “She's a Lily. She is. I'm just saying that it's annoyingly phonetic.”

He kisses her forehead slowly and she leans into the embrace. “You know,” he whispers. “Lily Mulder is still on the table.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” Scully snaps. And that's it.)

(When they bring Lily back for feeding in the middle of the night, Scully holds out her arms eagerly. After feeding her, she cradles Lily on her chest, stroking her downy hair. “She's a Lily,” she whispers to Mulder. “She is.”

“I know, honey,” he says, overwhelmed by the sight of Scully and their daughter. He reaches out to stroke Lily's cheek and she yawns, hand curling into a fist. Scully doesn't protest the honey.)

Mulder spends the night in the chair beside the bed despite Scully's protests. “Force of habit, Scully,” he says, squeezing her hand. “Get some sleep, okay? You're gonna need it.”

Lily falls asleep in her father's arms. Neither of them can take their eyes off of her. Scully tries and fails to sleep, her cycle thrown off by too many uncomfortable nights of insomnia spent on the couch. (“I didn't know insomnia was a contagious disease,” Mulder had joked beside her and she'd shot him a dirty look fierce enough that he'd gone to check on William.) She lies on her side, eyes glued to their daughter. “I feel so lucky,” she says softly. “That we got a chance to know her… in the other place, we would've never…” She can't finish. She has a lump in her throat. She swallows it back and holds Lily's little hand in hers.

“I know,” Mulder says quietly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Lily Scully sleeps peacefully, and Scully is so grateful. She's more grateful than she ever could've imagined. The sun streams in the window slowly, creeping in through the blinds, and their daughter sleeps through her first sunrise. The world has never seemed brighter.

i said i’d never write any further in this universe, but if i’m being completely honest, that was mostly because i wanted mulder and scully to have a second kid and i couldn’t pick a name for said kid. i started writing in this universe again when i finally settled on one. 

continuing my hypocrisy, this is somewhat a lead in to a potential sequel? i have an idea that i’ve already written a little bit of, and if i can get far enough into it that i feel secure about finishing it, than i’ll start posting. though i live in something of fear of ruining the original with a sequel, i’m having a lot of fun working on it as a side project. 

anyways! i hope this was enjoyable and not original-ruining.

[owl-elementary]

Pezberry: Santana, a single mother of a adorable 5-year-old girl, doesn't believe in Christmas anymore. Her cute daughter then enlist her teacher, Miss Berry, to help her bring magic back to her mother's life.

Okay…so I went vague, pre-ship with this??? Maybe I’ll continue?

Read “Learning to Love Christmas” on Ao3

“I’m so happy to meet you,” Rachel said, ushering Lyanna’s mom into a chair.

“Same to you, Miss Berry.”

“Please, call me Rachel.”

“Santana. Lyanna loves your class,” Santana said. “I was…sort of worried when we moved here. She’s used to the big city, and she left all of her friends behind.”

“So what made you choose good old Saratoga Springs,” Rachel asked as she pulled out Lyanna’s file.

“I’m a museum girl,” Santana explained. “The city offered me a great position as a curriculum director for the museum circuit here.”

“That’s great!” Rachel said. “Lyanna did mention something about exhibits, but I didn’t know if you were an artist or something. Here’s her progress report.” Rachel passed a group of three papers over to her. “She’s doing great in class. Things were a bit rocky at first, socially, but they usually are with new kids. She seems to be settling in just fine now. She’s made friends with Alexis, Tori, and Ricky. In terms of academics, she’s doing well in history and math. Only really struggling with science.”

Santana nodded, looking over the report. “What can I do to help her?”

“Frankly, I think it’s a confidence thing. I suggested she put together an idea for the science competition we have in the spring. I think she’ll have fun with it, and it’s a good way for students to personalize their learning. There is…one other thing.”

“Yeah?” Santana said, trying not to get too distracted by her daughter’s gorgeous teacher. When Lyanna had told her that her teacher was “pretty,” Santana had just chuckled. Now? She was thinking her daughter had drastically downplayed things.

“Lyanna got a part in the Christmas pageant,” Rachel began. “She’s playing one of the elves.”

“Wait, what?” Santana asked. “When is it? She didn’t tell me anything about it.”

Rachel passed her a tiny invitation in the shape of a Christmas ornament. “It’s this Friday. She said you…hated Christmas and wouldn’t want to come.”

Santana sighed. “Thanks for letting me know. Of course I’ll be there. This is a rough time of year for us, but…. Thanks. I’ll talk to her tonight. Anything else?”

For a moment, Rachel looked as though she was about to say something, but she just smiled and shook her head. “No. It was nice meeting you.”

*

Lyanna had been in her room all evening, and as Santana had no idea how to talk to her about the conference, the woman had just let her daughter chill. But it was dinner time, and they’d have to talk this out sooner or later.

“Baby? I made pasta,” she said, knocking on her door. “Lyanna?” Santana pushed the door open to find her daughter sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by all of her clothes. “Ummm….”

“I’m trying to find something to wear on Friday,” Lyanna said, glaring around at the mess.

“Friday, huh? So for your Christmas party.”

“Yeah.”

“And your Christmas pageant? I hear you get to be an elf.”

Lyanna looked up at her in alarm, and then her face got red. “Am I in trouble?” she asked, looking down at the t-shirt in her hands.

Santana pulled her closer and held her in a hug. “Of course not, baby. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me, though. Okay? We have to be honest with each other.”

Lyanna nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

“And hey,” Santana continued, “I will be at your pageant with bells on. There’s nothing other than a natural disaster that would make me miss one of your events.”

“But you hate Christmas,” Lyanna said, clearly trying one more attempt at letting Santana off the hook.

“But I love you. And I don’t hate Christmas, per se. It’s just…this time of year is rough.”

“Because of Momma?”

Santana smiled and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “What’s your elf’s name?”

“Trixie Wigglescarf.”

Santana tried not to laugh. She didn’t succeed, and Lyanna whacked her with a sock. “Okay…so, I think we need to go shopping tomorrow to make sure Trixie is the most fabulous elf at the North Pole. But I’m hungry, and I wants my breadsticks! So let’s eat.”

*

The pageant went off without a hitch - the normal kid-friendly fare of Christmas hijinks. Santana was actually impressed with the writing. Something about Mrs. Claus not feeling appreciated and the elves banning together to give her a great Christmas. And Lyanna killed her singing part, of course. But in a moment of weakness, she’d agreed to bring Lyanna to the Christmas fair that weekend. Saratoga Springs was lit up brilliantly. Little tents were set up for the events, and the food stalls were lining Main Street.

“Mom!” Lyanna said, pulling her toward the tent. “Gingerbread contest! Oh, hi Miss Berry!”

Santana looked up to see Lyanna’s teacher waving at them. “Rachel - nice to see you again,” she said as Lyanna ran to hug her teacher.

“You too. How are you enjoying the fair?”

“It’s great!” Lyanna babbled. “I’m going to go get a gingerbread house kit.”

“She loves every holiday,” Santana explained. “Seriously, it gets scary sometimes. Halloween last year? She recruited her godfather to turn the house into a haunted pirate ship.”

“Fabulous - I might have to tag her in for our Valentine’s Day decorating.”

“So…are you staying in town for Christmas - or, sorry, Hanukkah, right?”

“Hanukkah, yes. And yes, I’m here in town. My dads are on a cruise, and….” Rachel stopped talking suddenly. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

“Go on,” Santana said, giving her a playful nudge. “Don’t worry - the parents haven’t added me to the group text yet. Your secrets won’t get out.”

Rachel gave a little chuckle at that, and wrapped her red coat around her a little tighter. “I just went through a pretty bad breakup. It’s a little weird, you know? Right before the holidays.”

“Yeah. I know exactly how you feel. Lyanna’s mom - her other mom - left us around this time.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said.

“We’re getting through it. Anyway - your ex is an idiot. I’m sure he’s somewhere drinking away his sorrows and realizing how much of a sucker he’s been.”

“She.”

“Hmm?”

“She. My ex is a girl. But thanks.”

“I didn’t win,” Lyanna said, running back over.

“That was quick,” Santana told her.

“It was timed. Miss Berry, do you want to go to the hot chocolate hut with us?”

“I would love to, but I have to go back to the school and get some work done for next week. See you on Monday.”

Santana wasn’t sure what prompted her to say it, but she found herself blurting, “We’re going to make Christmas cookies tomorrow night, if you want to join us.”

Rachel smiled. “I’ll stop by.”

They wandered their separate ways. Santana and Lyanna decided to get their hot chocolate to go. Lyanna took her hand as they walked the few blocks to their house.

“Mom? I think Christmas is going to be okay this year.”

Santana hugged her. “I think it will be.”

[wetwellie]

Pacific Rim AU where Bitty is the cook who holds the morale of the entire population of the shatterdome on his shoulders.

 Initially he had trained to be a pilot, but flunked out due to a lack of drift compatible partners, and instructors saying they’d fear he’d chase the RABBIT while drifted with someone in a Jaeger and endanger himself and those around him.  Bad Bob and Alicia Zimmermann bounced between the shatterdomes from Seattle to Anchorage making a name for themselves as THE team that gives any kaiju an ass-whooping. That is, until they quietly retired a few years back. Publicly, the reason is due to a training exercise going wrong and injuring them. The true reason has to do with the radiation poisoning caused by the Alpha I’s finally getting to them.  Almost immediately after their retirement, their son Jack rose to take their place with his Drift Partner: Kent Parson. They were the golden boys until a very, very public failure while fighting a Kaiju off the coast of Vancouver. A combination of the mental strain of the PONS unit while also abusing his medication proved catastrophic. They barely made it out alive. Jack was Grounded  and works as a LOCCENT operator. Kent was reassigned to a Shatterdome in Panama City. 

I wonder who is gonna be Jack’s new partner??? I wonder??? No one else is drift compatible with him except this dude who makes really good pie come out of no where??? Where does he get those kinds of ingredients in Alaska???? 

It is a mystery

Anyways if you wanna know about where all the other characters fall in this AU...

Lardo is J-Tech Chief and LOCCENT operators. She oversees all operations of Rangers and Jaegers. She gets to be a living legend among the locals of every town she’s stationed in. (”One time Lardo and I went to a pub in Hong Kong during our shore leave. It ended with her taking me to get my eyebrow pierced and then she belched for three minutes in my face. It was awesome”) Johnson is a custodian, but everyone knows him because he seems to be more accurate in predicting Kaiju emergences than the War Clock. It annoys the scientists to no end.  Ransom works on the Med Team. He specializes in keeping the Rangers in tip top, fighting condition. It was a great job when he was a part of a team, and the Jaegers were a can of Kaiju Whoopass. But after a wave of budget cuts, staff cuts, no new equipment, and Kaiju getting stronger, his job is getting a lot harder. In his spare time he could be found -- ha ha what spare time? You can find him on his lunch break curled under his desk in the fetal position. 

Holster is the nice Ranger who runs a Jaeger with his older sister. He has every episode of Golden Girls on VHS hidden under his bunk with an absolutely ancient old TV with a VHS player built into it. According to a certain Medic named Justin Oluransi  he makes the best smoothies, hot chocolate, and cocktails. No one else, however, can verify that. Since Ransom is the only one he makes them for. His sister teases him to no end.  Shitty is the liason between the PDCC and any “political fucksticks” that try to shut it down. He graduated Harvard about 5 years after K-Day, so he knew that negotiating for the PDCC is what he wanted to do. But god can he rant about any of the social justice issues surrounding the breach. From the gentrification and pricing out of Middle America (Not only are the poor forced to stay in the safe zones, those that lived in those flyover states are being priced out of the place they lived for centuries! Not to mention how it’s fucking up the agriculture), to THE WALL( “A wall isn’t gonna stop these giant lizard dicks from busting in and taking what they want”). 

The only time he is seen wearing clothing is with the Marshal when he has video calls with Leaders of the Free World, and when he negotiate with certain...notso wholesome folk over obtaining kaiju specimens not so legally. He only wears a full suit for the latter.

Chowder and Farmer are a Jaeger duo born out of loss. Both were both witnessed Trespasser attack California firsthand. They both lost everyone close to them. Caitlin has a cousin she visits in Nevada as much as she can, though. The cousin was just outside of Oakland when the nukes came, and they were exposed to a lot of radiation. 

They met each other in a makeshift refugee camp outside of Yosemite, and they gravitated toward each other in their grieving. As soon as they were old enough, they enrolled in the Jaeger Program. Upon graduation and assignment to a nifty little Mark III, they were married in a swift but heartfelt ceremony. 

Dex is a officer in J-Tech in charge of keeping Chowder and Farmer’s Jaeger in fighting condition. It is a perfect combination of his programming skills and his striking ability to fix any machine placed in front of him. Well, except for the dryer in the laundry room. There’s only one and it can’t dry even one sock. He’s dedicated as much time as he could, but it just won’t work. Everyone is forced to dry their clothes on the roof. 

Dex’s paths cross with a certain drivesuit technician named Derek Nurse constantly, much to his chagrin. The first time that they meet is during Dex’s offtime. He got a call from the dome’s radio station asking to tinker with some malfunctioning sound equipment. It ends with a shouting match between the two having to be broken up by none other than Lardo.  Dex learns that he shouldn’t make enemies with the man who is second to only Bitty in boosting morale. It’s a sucky world without social media, and radio is the only way to really keep up with petty gossip. For the next couple of days, Radio LOCCENT hosted a Roast of William Poindexter. 

After that, they kept bumping into each other in the worst places: parties of mutual friends (Chowder), shore leaves into town with mutual friends (Chowder), the laundry room where Dex passive aggressively dumps out Nursey’s clothes the second that they’re done. (”There are 13 other empty washers what the HECK Poindexter?”) And you can bet your bottom dollar that Nursey would talk about it during every break between songs.  They only called a truce when the burden got too great to bear alone. No one except for LOCCENT could really do anything after the Jaeger was sent out. The only thing to do was listen to the reports being broadcast over the intercom. It’s been 2 hours since deployment and Dex is working on that damn dryer when he hears announcements that the Sharkpulse had gone dark. Last reports were that there was massive damage to Jaeger and, if the other Jaeger sent out 35 minutes later doesn’t arrive in time, is likely to be completely destroyed.  Nursey finds Dex in the laundry room beating the absolute shit out of the dryer. He grabs him and tries to comfort him the best they could. Sharkpulse is still dark, the Kaiju is inching closer to the miracle mile. Dex lets himself, if only for a moment, collapse in Nursey’s arms. And then the moment is over, and they both wish each other luck and make each other useful. When the Kaiju is killed and the remains of the Sharkpulse is recovered, they both stop holding the breath neither of them knew that they were holding. Somehow, both of them were alive.  They kept working. The animosity between them was gone and replaced with what could be called amicable tolerance with each other. After the eventual shutdown of Anchorage, they both volunteered to transfer to Hong Kong. There they would be forced to share a tiny room. 

ANYWAYS. WHO ELSE IS THERE?

Until K-Day, Whiskey was satisfied with studying economics and going into a cushy Wall Street job. Seeing tens of thousands killed in California by a giant alien changes things. Maybe he should join the PDCC after graduating college. And then they hit Manila. After that, Whiskey applied himself to the very fullest. He graduated high school a year early, and enlisted. He worked in Panama City as a drivesuit technician. For a couple years, he just kept his head down and focused on the work at hand. He made friends with the Rangers he met, and even was invited to spar with a couple of them. After quickly defeating many of them, he was recommended to join the Jaeger program.  There, he met his inquisitive partner in crime, life, the Jaeger, etc: Anthony “Tango” Tangredi. He absolutely loves drifting. It’s like every question that Tango never even considered asking gets answered in a split second. Unfortunately for the scientists, Tango cannot drift with them. He has to ask all the questions the old fashioned way. Most of the time, they are happy to explain what they are doing, but not when they are running on approximately 15 minutes of sleep that they got maybe 3 (??) days ago.  Foxtrot is the Marshal of the Shatterdome in Anchorage. She’s one of the youngest, but still as capable as ever. People will follow her to the ends of the earth.

Tater is was a Jaeger pilot in Vladivostok until his partner was killed in combat. It really shook him. He  used his status to build affordable housing for the poor inland, so that they could be safe. After that, he spends all of his savings on a one way ticket to the Hong Kong Shatterdome to help finish this once and for all in any way possible.