#i WANT to be around books for 6 hours at a time. stacking. shelving. cleaning those precious books

[stuckinapril]

every time i walk into my local library i make sure to look at the receptionists with big wet eyes before heading to my corner to study bc i really want them to hire me as a part-time aide

[uglypastels]

Pleeaaassee I’m begging for another Hell Diver chapter!!!!

i feel ashamed for how long it took me to write this but i hope it's alright.

warnings: nothing explicit, kissing?? sneaking around. its all just fluff

Catch up on the mini series: Hell Diver - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

masterlist // inbox // add yourself to my taglist

Chapter 6: Up in the Tower

The second you returned home after school, you threw your shoes off and ran upstairs to your bedroom. It was just the right amount of chaotically out of character for you to get your mom off the phone to ask if everything was alright but not that much to make her worried. She was content with a rushed “I’m fine, mom!” from you and a slam of your bedroom door. 

Yeah, you remembered it right; your room was a mess. 

Piles of clothes were strewn everywhere; your desk was hidden underneath a stack of books, schoolwork, and makeup. All you could think about was how this would be the first time Eddie would see your room. You remembered what it was like in his trailer. You had looked everywhere, trying to get a bit of an insight into him. It is the natural response in a new place, to want to look around at everything, isn’t it? So you had to make sure to hide all of your most embarrassing items.

Unfortunately, you could not do anything about the dusty pink wallpaper you had chosen in middle school, but it could have been worse, you reminded yourself. And it wasn’t that you were scared Eddie would judge you; you didn’t want— well, ok, you were slightly scared of being judged. Who wouldn’t be? You and Eddie had completely different styles; your rooms spoke for that perfectly. The fact you had any common interests was a miracle in itself, yet here you were… cleaning up in a rush before he would come over to catch you up on the D&D campaign you were soon to join. 

You spent the entire afternoon cleaning up and would have kept going if your mother had not called you downstairs for dinner.

‘What are you doing up there anyway?’ she asked.

‘Just some spring cleaning.’ Which was technically true. And your mother had been nagging you to sort out your room for weeks, so everything worked perfectly. 

The rest of the dinner went by fast. Finally, the table was cleaned up, and your family went back to the TV room, but you excused yourself to ran back up to your room. The clock on your wall just ticked by 7. You still had three hours before he would get here.

It was a nightmarish 3 hours. You tried to busy yourself by going over all your shelves, straightening out picture frames, re-organising some books, and doing anything to ignore that feeling of anticipation gnawing at your stomach. There was absolutely no reason for you to be this nervous. You had never been really nervous around Eddie, just… you couldn’t quite describe how you felt around him, but it was pleasant. Nice. 

The clock neared ten, and you were getting worried for different reasons. Usually, by this time, you would hear your parents head upstairs, brush their teeth and go to bed. Your mother would come by and say good night, telling you off for not doing the dishes as meticulously as she would have liked. Lights would go off in the house room by room, but, 5 minutes to 10, none of that had happened. They were still downstairs, chatting away.

Then you heard it. At first, you weren’t sure where it came from. This ticking sound, louder than your clock. But it persisted, and you looked around. It was a pure coincidence you decided to look at your window when you saw a little pebble hit it. He wouldn’t…

You leaned to look out your window, and there, right below you stood Eddie Munson. He waved to you enthusiastically, proudly even. You pushed the window open, and the cool night air grazed your face. 

‘How did you know this was my room?’ You whisper shouted. 

‘I assume you don’t live in the basement and that was the only window upstairs where the light was on.’ He said something along those lines. You couldn’t hear him perfectly from how soft he was talking. Reminder, your parents were right there and would probably hear someone shouting in your backyard. 

You were unsure how he did it, but a few seconds later, his hands reached your windowsill and peaked his head into your room. The warm light from your room caught his eyes perfectly, illuminating them golden brown. 

‘May I enter?’ he looked up at you.

‘You sound like a vampire,’ you laughed. 

‘No,’ he said, ‘den I voold tok like dees,’ he put on some kind of horrible impression of the Count from Sesame Street. ‘Ok, that was pretty bad, but seriously, can I come in, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on.’

‘Oh, right, of course.’ You quickly paved the way for him by pushing some stuff away from the window. Unfortunately, all his elegance from climbing up to your room had vanished, as he let himself fall forward, nearly face-planting into your plush carpet. You cringed at the thump that your parents must have heard downstairs.

Eddie got up as if nothing had happened, dusting himself off of any invisible dirt and taking off the backpack you just noticed he had with him. It was black, like most of his belongings, but in a way that made you think he had dyed it himself. 

‘You can put it overwhere,’ you pointed at your desk, not completely clutter-free, only your school essentials laid out neatly next to each other. 

‘So, you’re one of those neat freaks, huh?’ He asked, looking around just like you had predicted. His words, however, hit you by surprise. Sure, your room was clean, but did it look obsessively clean? Oh god–

‘No, not at all. I mean, I’m not a big fan of mess, but I just had a little time today so I–’

‘Hey, calm down,’ Eddie chuckled, ‘I was joking. It’s cute.’ He picked up one of your stuffed animals that you put on the chair in the corner. ‘Really cute. Does he have a name?’

‘No,’ you responded quickly, trying to grab the fat bunny from him. Eddie avoided each attempt easily. 

‘No? I don’t believe that.’ He kept manoeuvring around you, ‘he must have a name. Looks like a Tony to me.’ 

‘Tony?’ you stopped in your tracks for a second to process his ridiculous suggestion.

‘You’re right, not Tony… but he is a Bardolph!’ Eddie got a bit too excited at that point, and you were quick to silence him. Without thinking, you leapt over to him and placed your hand over his mouth, shushing him. 

‘My parents are still up,’ you explained. ‘So we got to be quiet.’

‘Sorry,’ Eddie whispered. Then, slowly, he held up the bunny again. ‘What about Dorcas?’

‘You’re a Dorcas, Eddie Munson.’ You rolled your eyes and finally snatched the bunny out of his grip. ‘And I didn’t invite you here for you to make fun of my stuff.’ You put the bunny back in its place.

‘First of all, I’m not making fun of anything. I swear,’ Eddie let himself fall onto your bed, and the springs creaked only slightly. ‘And second, why did you invite me here, then?’ He leaned back on the bed, putting his weight on his elbows, looking up at you with a smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he was insinuating and leading the conversation to. 

‘Catch me up on your campaign? Remember that?’

‘Right, the campaign.’  he exhaled deeply with his words, dramatically. ‘The big scary campaign you’re o-so scared of ruining, which is why you needed your mighty and all-knowing Dungeon Master,’ he pointed at himself proudly, making you laugh, ‘to save you from this predicament.’

‘Woah, try not to sell yourself short there, Munson.’ You smiled and sat down beside him on your bed. He put his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, on which plastic glow-in-the-dark stars were glued. 

‘Cute,’ he said, tilting his chin up at the stars.

‘Not everything is cute,’ you rolled your eyes. Why must he be like this?

‘But it’s all yours, and you’re cute, ergo…’ If he had looked to his side at you, he would have caught your blank and dazed stare. The way you were incomprehensibly lost for words. Or maybe he did catch it from the corner of his eyes. Perhaps he took your frazzled expression as a negative because he closed his eyes and laughed lightly in embarrassment the next moment. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to–’ 

‘No, it’s fine, uhh, thanks.’ Your face felt extremely hot. Things could keep going like this; you wouldn’t be able to stay with him in a room if he kept talking to you like that and you stayed lost for words at everything. You had to get the conversation back on track, so you cleared your throat. ‘So, the campaign, what did you guys do up to now?’ 

Eddie started telling you about the adventures he had dragged the party through for the past weeks. As he went on, you made yourself more comfortable beside him. Your bed was large for when it was just you sleeping in it, but with Eddie beside you, the two of you barely fit. He had shuffled nearer to the edge, moving his arm away so you could place your head on your pillow. 

He kept on talking, and you tried to listen; you really did. It was just so difficult to focus when all you could think about was how different he smelled from anything in your room. You were used to a sweet smell, the air freshener and scented candles you’d put on some evenings. Then there was Eddie, who smelled like the fresh night air in the woods; musky, deep, perfect. 

You were so lost in it that you hadn’t even realised he had stopped talking. There was a peaceful moment of silence until he called your name. ‘y/n? You alright?’ 

‘Huh? Yeah, yeah. Sorry.’ You blinked slowly. He was now looking right at you, most definitely aware of how you had been staring at him. 

‘Did you hear anything I said?’ Thankfully, he was taking it all with humour, the corners of his mouth spread in a wide grin. 

‘Of course,’ you tried to regain your memory of the last few minutes, ‘uhh– dude, one arm, one eye- Vector….’

‘Vecna,’ laughed, ‘you totally didn not listen to me at all.’

‘I did!’ you said, way too loud, and immediately shut your hand in front of your mouth before giggling. ‘I did. I just–’

‘Uhuh, you just weren’t paying any attention to me.’ Eddie sat up, pouting. Then, before you could ask what he was doing, he threw his leg over you, blocking you in on each side and leaned so far forward that his hair was tickling your face, ‘how is that supposed to make me feel, princess?’ Did he really ask you that? How were you supposed to feel with your faces only inches apart, heat radiating off of each other? 

‘I’m sorry,’ you couldn’t help but let the nervous laugh out. He mirrored you with a chuckle, which was the sweetest sound you had heard, only enhanced by your proximity.

Your noses touched the faintest touch. 

‘You really hurt my little rusty heart, you know.’ He kept on pulling his pout while those big brown eyes pulled you in more and more. 

‘How can I make it up to you?’ with your faces so close, there was no need to speak louder than a faint whisper.

‘Well, I have wanted to kiss you since I saw you sitting in the drama room,’ his eyes had been locked with your lips, but after saying that, he looked directly into yours, and you could have sworn that if you had not been lying in your bed, you would have fallen. Fast and hard. ‘Would that– would that be alright?’

‘Yes.’ And he didn’t need anything more than that. Framing your cheek with his palm, his lips touched yours gently. The kiss was slow, filling up the silence in the room. The longer it went on, the more the fire inside you burned, yearning for more fuel. It felt like a deliciously beautiful dream, unreal and wonderful in every way.

But all dreams must come to an end, don’t they?

And yours ended with the sound of your door opening and your full name being shouted so loud the entire neighbourhood could probably tell your parents just caught you with a boy who was most definitely not allowed to be there.

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[monsterfloofs]

BirdMonster? (Quincey)  x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(I don’t have a species name yet for my lovely weirdo bird-ish shadow babies-- but I hope you enjoy the story!!)

You look down at your phone, chewing on your lip, reading and re-reading the text message that lay on its glassy screen.

“Hey! I heard you moved to the city, how have you been? =D I wanna hear all about it!”

You didn’t have the heart to respond this morning when you first saw the message. And you felt even less sure of yourself as you looked at it now. “It’s going okay,” You finally type out, you type a bit more, but then thinking better of it, you hastily start tapping your thumb on the 'x' to delete it.

You run head first into someone's back and you blink, backing away quickly, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” The shadowy figure turns around and his wide multicolored glowing eyes peer at you. A cigarette wiggles in his beak like maw. “Ey Nicky, look who it is! It’s tha hooman!” You wince and put your hands up nervously, as they lean forward curiously, their four hands resting on his waist and hips. “I’m really, really sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you--” “What have I told you about that!” You blink looking to the one beside him, they were short and chubby with a shorter beak that was slightly hooked on the end. Their hand flying up to swat at the taller figure. “Whatta keep tellin’ ya about them manners! You don’t say that! It’s rude!” “Ey! Ey! I’m sorreh! Jeeze Nicky!” The taller one complained in their high voice, “Why ya gotta slap at me! They were the one that ran inta me first!!” He jerks his thumb back at you before blinking and scratching his head with a hand, “Eh. . . they were right here. . . where’d they go?”

You had made a quick escape around the corner, breathing heavily before you looked down at your shoes and bit your lip. There weren’t that many humans around here, and you have been stared at enough by the residents to beat a hasty retreat when you were afraid of causing a scene. You shouldered your bag and continued down the path, your eyes peering around as you stuffed your phone into your pocket. It was a small city and many of the residents here, were these shadowy bird creatures. They had four arms and 4-6 eyes depending on their mood, covered in a very dark fluff that you weren’t able to discern if it was fur or feathers. With their luminous eyes and slick shadow like silhouettes, you stuck out like a sore thumb around them. At first you had been excited to live here, learn about them, but when you realized you were the one being stared at, you began to lose your social resolve. You stop walking, pausing in front of a walk sign and waiting for the light to turn as you shove your hands in your pockets. You had come here to make a new start, get away from your old town and the memories you had there, but with a new town came new problems. You hurry across the road, walking down the strip to turn into a little bookstore. 

You can see faint wisps of lilac smoke in the air and you give a little smile, you were able to make one friend so far, and you rather liked him. He sat at the front desk reading a book, his legs propped onto the countertop. His luminous eyes looking up. “Hey angel, how’s the city life treatin’ ya today?” You sigh and slump your bag onto the floor, “Horrible,” you mumble, “I ran into someone today Quincey, like actually. . . RAN into them. Way to go me. . .” “Ey, don’t say that.” Their cool voice replies from behind their book, “You were probably lost in your thoughts, and that's one of your best qualities.” You look at him, before giving a little smile. “You think so?” “I know so sweetheart. You’re a really deep thinker,” You stepping around the counter to put on an apron with the book store's logo stamped on it. “Has it been busy today?” Quincey chuckles, “Nope. ’S been dead all day.” You peeked at the stack of books sitting beside his crossed feet on the counter before you gave a little laugh, “I can see that. . . it looks like you’ve been reading your books more than selling them.” “Mmhm, if you want to, you can go home if you want.” You think back to the two others you ran into on the street and you shake your head, “No. . . I think I need to get out of there for a while.” “Feel free to hang around as long as you want, then. I could use th’ company.” 

You watch him read, his face buried in his book. You give a soft smile and nod appreciatively, you take a deep breath. “ Ah. . . Hey Quince, I was wondering, what are those things you smoke all the time?” Quincey looks up, “It’s a cigarette sweetheart. Don’tcha have them things back home?” You give him a look and smile, “Yeah. . . but they have rat poison in them and they smell awful, and they don’t give off purple smoke either.” Quincey’s eyes shift in number, as he blinks, taking the cigarette out of his jagged mouth and looking it over appalled, “Rat poison?” You giggle and rest your elbows on the table, “Yu~p! And they cause lung cancer and--” “Quincey waves his hands, “Urk, yeh, I’ve heard enough. I don’t wanna hear no more.” You giggle again as he hastily stamps it out. “Well, the ones back home do anyway, I don’t know what they make those kind with. It smells different. . . almost floral” You say thoughtfully, “I dunna sweets but I’m gonna look that up, I don’t wanna be killing myself with no rat poison,” You smile, collecting the stack of pre-read books into your arms and wandering further back into the shop to put them away. You scan the shelves, carefully sliding them back into their homes. 

You breath in the dry air with a smile, you were so thankful to work here, and thankful to find a friend. Quincey was kind, and understanding. When you first moved here, you had a moment of feeling distraught and panicky about the stress that was piling up in your life. You had started crying while you were working up front at the register and Quincey had been quick to send you to the backroom and tack over while you could sit in peace and cry it out. He had popped his head around the corner with a mug of tea. Sitting down to speak with you, his legs crossed as the two of you talked. You told him everything, why you left home, how hard everything had been and how desperate you had been to start anew. You spilled everything that had been warring inside your heart, going a mile a minute as your nerves had skyrocketed. But he listened through everything, nodding solemnly as he watched you with concern. You had felt guilty about that, just exploding your life worries on someone you just met, but Quincey had been someone you felt treasured to have now. He didn’t judge, he didn’t even really question. He didn’t ask for anything in return, and he didn’t try to make you feel like you had to act a certain way. You could just be. . . you. Having such a sturdy positive force in your life wasn’t something you were used to. You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you smile softly to yourself. 

You finished putting the books away, grabbing a broom to start sweeping the floors. Your mind slowly turns towards work and what needs to be done. Since it was slow today, you could focus on cleaning all the things you had been neglecting. Moving around the shelves and pulling out chairs so you could sweep underneath them. As you head up towards the front desk, you hear Quincey get up from his chair. Stretching his four arms as he bows backwards. “I see ya already grabbed my books, thanks for that.” “Oh,” you respond offhandedly, “No problem, I was already up,” “I was thinking about closin’’ up th’ shop earlier, it doesn’t look like anyone will be coming through.” You perk up cheerfully and beam. “What time were you thinking about closing?” Quincey eyes the clock on the wall, and squints. “Eh. . . Soon, I’m thinking, about an hour or so, no use wastin’ electricity if no one comes in.” You hum in response, keeping your head down as you sweep a pile of dust onto the dust pan. “And. . .” He began hesitantly, “I was wonderin’ if you would like to have dinner with me.”

You freeze, your head jerking up to look up at him. “Me?” You hug the broom shyly, Quincey rubs the back of his neck, his eyes winking closed, “Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable you don’t hafta--” You blink and look down, “I--” You stammer, you voice dropping to a whisper, “I’d really like that, actually. . .” You shuffle your feet, in embarrassment, you peek up at him, Quincey mirrors your shy posture, shifting from foot to foot as he rubs the back of his neck. You let out a soft giggle and take a deep breath. “I would love to. . . did you have a place in mind?” Quincey’s bright eyes dart in your direction before he gives a small jagged smile. “I know a few little hole in th’ wall places. One I’ll think you’ll really like, s’ nice an quiet. You nod, returning his smile, feeling your heart flutter. “That sounds great. . .” You stand their for a moment dumbly before you fluster and grin in embarrassment, picking up the dust pan and carting it and the broom into the back. When you are out of his line of sight you can finally let your heart to it’s erratic somersaults. Putting a hand over your heart and swallowing hard. A date. . . a dinner date, tonight, and you don’t have enough time to thoroughly panic because it’s going to be after work, which in an hour! You take a couple of deep breaths, easy, steady there! You busy yourself with scrubbing the tiny break room, your mind feeling like it was composed of marbles. Every thought you had rolling around and bumping into each other. There was no doubt you liked Quincey but oh gosh! 

It was like, now you knew, he knew, how you felt? Or was it, he knew, you knew how HE felt? You squish your face with your hands. Okay, you’re panicking, again, stop panicking-- just breath!! You let your eyes close tightly and you shake your head. You grab the bucket of soapy water and throw your sponge into it, hobbling out of the breakroom to start washing down whatever else you could find. You still had an hour to occupy your mind-- and in the meantime you needed to keep pep-rallying yourself! It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, it was just the things in life, made you feel like you had to be guarded. . . Or like you didn’t deserve it. You sigh, squeezing out the sponge and sitting on your knees to clean the dusty bottom of the book shelves. You keep yourself a buzzy bee, cleaning shelves and tables, until the very last minute. Your name is called and you lift your head, you can already feel your cheeks tingling with warmth. You wobble to your feet and give Quincey a shy smile. “Just let me dump the soapy water out! I’ll be right back.” You steal yourself into the break room, watching the water swirl down the drain, and turning to peer at yourself in the mirror. You give yourself an awkward but encouraging smile. Leaving the bucket and sponge on the counter as you join Quincey by the door. “I’m ready,” You say, feeling unsure, but when Quincey gives you his own crooked smile, your heart flutters. He holds the door open for you, and you step out together into the lamp light sidewalk.

It’s going to be okay, you tell yourself, hesitantly reaching for one of Quincey’s hands and holding it. He perks up and looks towards you, and you give an embarrassed smile and laugh in spite of yourself. 

[conradscrime]

Betsy Aardsma

May 09, 2021

Betsy (born Elizabeth Ruth) Aardsma was the second born in a family of four children. She was born in Holland, Michigan on July 11, 1947 to parents Esther and Richard Aardsma and grew up in a religious conservative household. Esther worked as a housewife and Richard was a salesman.

When Betsy was a child she found a love for art, poetry and developed a concern for the underprivileged. She went to Holland High School and was quite a good student, graduating with honours in 1965. Betsy had a dream of becoming a physician. 

After high school, Betsy enrolled at the Hope College in the fall of 1965, to become a medical student. In the fall of 1967 Betsy enrolled at the University of Michigan to study art and English. She then began to date a medical student named David Wright, who was her first serious boyfriend. Betsy graduated from the University of Michigan with honours in the summer of 1969. 

Once Betsy had graduated from university she planned to join the Peace Corps and travel to Africa, however she decided to enrol at Pennsylvania State University (known as Penn State) when she realized her boyfriend, David, would be attending there and he told Betsy he could not guarantee he would be faithful to her if she travelled abroad. 

Betsy enrolled at Penn State in early October of 1969 and she lived in Atherton Hall, a residence on campus with her roommate Sharon Brandt, who said that Betsy spent her free time either studying or hanging with her boyfriend. 

Thanksgiving 1969 came around and Betsy was supposedly very stressed out due to the fact that she was behind on an English assignment. She spent the day with her boyfriend, David, his roommates and their girlfriends before she returned to her dorm the following day with plans of meeting some professors for advice on the assignment. 

On November 28, 1969 Betsy left her dorm with her roommate to visit the Pattee Library to get research material for her English paper. At one point her and her roommate parted ways, agreeing that they would catch up later that afternoon to watch a movie. 

At around 4 pm Betsy spoke with one of her professors, Nicholas Joukovsky, where she stated she wanted to visit the Stack Building. Shortly after that she encountered two of her friends, Linda Marsa and Robert Steinberg where she had a brief conversation before entering the library. Betsy then placed her purse, jacket and book inside a carrel before walking towards a card catalog. 

When she found the reference she was looking for, she began to walk down a flight of stairs to the Level 2 core stacks, around 4:30 pm. The last potential sightings of Betsy occurred minutes after 4:30 pm, when an assistant supervisor named Dean Brungart saw a girl wearing a red dress standing alone in an aisle. Dean also noticed two young men talking quietly to each other in a nearby aisle. 

About 10 minutes later another witness, named Richard Allen, overheard a conversation between a male and female in the general direction of where Betsy was standing as he was using the photocopier. Richard told police he couldn’t hear what the two were saying but it didn’t sound like anything alarming to him or give off the notion that it was anything other than a normal conversation. 

A few moments later Richard heard a metallic crashing noise before he saw a young man “barrel” past him. Somewhere between 4:45 and 4:55 pm Betsy Aardsma had been stabbed one time through the left breast with a knife while she was standing between rows 50 and 51 in the Stack Building of the Pattee Library. 

After she had been stabbed, Betsy slumped to the ground close to the end of the aisle, falling on her back. Two other students, Joao Uafinda and Marilee Erdley observed a man running from the direction of the stabbing, concealing his right hand, and yelling, “that girl needs help!” Marilee said the man was dressed in knaki washable slacks, was wearing a tie and a sports jacket. He had well kept brown hair, was around 6 feet tall and about 185 pounds. He may have been wearing glasses.

The man apparently led Joao and Marilee into the Core, where he pointed to Betsy. Marilee began checking for signs of a pulse and Joao noticed the man leaving the library, so he followed him upstairs and aw the man run out of the library. Joao said he tried to chase the man, but was outpaced. This man was last seen running in the direction of Recreation Hall. The identity of this man has never been found. 

Marilee was joined by other bystanders, including a librarian as they attempted first aid on Betsy. They called the campus hospital at 5:01 pm, and responders were initially told that a “girl had fainted” in the library. Two student paramedics came to the scene moments later and Betsy was placed on a gurney and taken to the Health Centre as paramedics tried to perform CPR on her.

Everyone, including the responders thought she had fainted at first, because she had urinated where she fell and she was wearing a white turtleneck sweater, with a red sleeveless dress over the sweater and there was only small amount of visible blood. The sweater was very thick so it wasn’t obvious that there had been a tear in her sweater. 

Shortly after being transported to the Health Centre, a senior medical individual noticed the blood and they cut through Betsy’s clothes to reveal the single stab wound. Betsy was pronounced dead at 5:19 pm. 

Because everyone initially thought Betsy had fainted, there was no reason to think that the library was a crime scene and the janitor had already cleaned up the urine on the floor of the aisle. Police found that about 440 students had entered the Pattee Library between 4:30 and 5 pm that day. 

Multiple factors led police to believe that Betsy knew her murderer personally as she had likely been approached by this individual and had not attempted to scream or run away. Police didn’t believe she had been stalked and she had been expected to be at Penn State that day, she was supposed to be spending the day elsewhere with her boyfriend. They also found Betsy’s diary, where not once had she indicated that she felt uncomfortable by anyone at Penn State in the 8 weeks she had gone there. 

Another theory is that Betsy possible saw a homosexual encounter or witnessed a man masturbating In the library and was killed to silence her. More than two dozen pornographic magazines were found concealed between books where Betsy had been murdered and there was traces of semen on the floor, shelves and walls. It seemed as though people were using this area to engage in sexual activities without being caught. 

Another theory is that a Penn State professor by the name of Richard Haefner was responsible for Betsy’s murder. Haefner was born in 1943 and was described as well respected but socially awkward. He had obtained a doctoral degree in Geology from Penn State and was extremely intelligent. However, Haefner was known to have bouts of explosive anger, accusations of pedophilia and molestation and was accused of stealing the university’s rock collection. 

Apparently Haefner had dated Betsy but she ended it whatever they had in October 1969 because she was becoming more serious with David. Apparently when asked, Haefner claimed he had not known about Betsy’s death until November 29, the day after it happened. However, apparently Haefner showed up at another professor’s house hours after Betsy had been murdered and said, “Have you seen the papers?” Betsy’s death had not yet been reported in the papers. This professor said Haefner’s behaviour was so strange that after he had left the professors and his wife wondered if he had had anything to do with it, though the professor never reported this to police. 

Haefner was never charged and died from a heart attack in 2002. His cousin, Chris Haefner believes that he was involved in Betsy’s murder. Chris claimed one night in 1975 he overheard Richard Haefner and his mother having a conversation where he heard them talking about “what Rick had done to that girl at Penn State.” 

Derek Sherwood, a man who runs the website “whokilledbetsy.org” also believes Richard Hafener was responsible. “He was there, he had intimate knowledge of [the crime], he was interviewed by police and he lied to them,” said Sherwood. 

“I think that the Aardsma murder may have both burdened and emboldened Rick, if he truly committed it,” said Sherwood. “Burdened in the sense that he probably always felt that he had to watch his back for police and his past, so to speak, and emboldened in the sense that once you’ve gotten away with murder, everything else is small potatoes.” 

Betsy Aardsma’s murder remains unsolved 60 years later but the Pennsylvania State Police are still actively seeking any information about the case. The above photo is that of Professor Richard Haefner and Betsy Aardsma. 

[tobesobri]

𝒮orry for the delay in this chapter 😬but i just want to say happy birthday to the anon that said this chapter is being posted on their birthday, i hope you had the best day ever!! and yeah, i really hope you all like this one because it’s one of my favorites! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

CHAPTER THREE: DRUNK TO AN 80S GROOVE (3.4K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

Morning came and went by the time Harry woke up. With his curtains automatically shutting in the middle of the night and all sense of time lost, the only thing he knew for certain was that Y/N was gone. 

After confirming it, reaching out to find cold sheets instead of her warm body, he let out a huff and buried his face back into his pillows. He had wanted nothing more than to wake up with her in the morning and make coffee and just talk. But thinking back on his little daydreams from last night seemed extremely dumb to him now. She had a regular job with regular hours that she couldn’t be late for.

Once he got the energy to do so, he rolled onto his other side to grab his phone from the small, circular table next to his bed. He squinted at the bright light it gave off in his otherwise dark bedroom and then narrowed his eyes even more to read her message that had been sitting on his lockscreen for the past several hours.

(Y/N, 7:52 am)

Sorry I had to get to work.

Even in her texts she was concise. He grunted and practically threw his phone onto the emptied side of the bed. With his fingers dug deep into his hair and his palms covering his eyes, he thought about what she’d said last night for possibly the hundredth time since she’d said it. He still felt the knot in his throat and the stinging in his eyes from just simply repeating her words in his head again. 

For the entire time he’d known her, which was actually a decent chunk of time, he never would have guessed she felt that way. And he definitely would never have guessed she’d be telling him anything about it. He wondered how many nights she spent like last night where she didn’t have him to hold onto and he wondered if she was more like him than he’d thought. If she cried herself to sleep until it made her eyes burn the next morning. If she had the same destructive thoughts he did. Of not being good enough for anyone to stick around. Of desperately craving someone’s touch but being far too terrified to let anyone that close. 

They had their different reasons for it, but in the grand scheme of things, they were exactly alike. 

And he felt like a clown for never noticing it.

Friday night was suddenly not like all the other nights. She came home from work and didn’t immediately crawl into bed after throwing on her worn out sleep clothes. Instead she pulled out a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt she hadn’t worn in a long time and actually tidied up her room, instead of just tossing things into a chair or under her bed like she had for Harry when he slept over the previous week. She actually put things back where they belonged. She joined the ever-growing, untouched stack of books on her floor with the rest of them on her shelves. She gathered her dirty laundry and put away all the clean stuff that had been sitting in her hamper for weeks since she last ran a washing machine. She saw the clean, white table top of her desk for the first time in months and actually sat down to write in her planner when she was done with it all.

She’d been here before, coming out of the dark, but this time felt different. It felt like she actually had something to hold onto that made her accountable for keeping her shit together. 

And so, after a much-needed shower, she actually joined her roommates in the kitchen and ate dinner at a reasonable hour.

“Finally out of your room,” James commented while Y/N started helping herself to their overflow of Chinese takeout. Will and his girlfriend, Sasha, were already eating at their thrifted dining table with a very tired and stressed Violet sat on the opposite side from them. 

Y/N ignored him for the most part, other than to give him a mocking look, and made a plate for herself before reluctantly joining the others at the table.

“Look at this!” Violet exclaimed, pointing the screen of her phone almost right into Y/N’s face and then, before Y/N could even make out what the picture was of, Violet shoved it toward Will and Sasha. “He’s already with some other girl. It’s only been one fucking week!”

Y/N kept quiet, keeping out of that conversation completely after last Saturday when Violet had kicked her out at four-thirty in the morning because her boyfriend had broken up with her while he was getting ready for work. 

She couldn’t hold too much of a grudge, however, because if that didn’t happen, she would have never gotten into bed with Harry to begin with. On the other hand, if things hadn’t gone the way they did, she’d still have all her secrets to herself that she stupidly blurted out last night, which she’d spent the better half of her day trying to forget. She was pretty sure she trusted Harry, as much as she was able to, but telling him things like that made her remember just how much she hated anyone knowing anything about how vulnerable she could be. 

Ignoring Violet going on about her cheating boyfriend was made even easier when her own phone dinged in her pocket. Even poor Will tried to change the subject by asking who was texting her, but it was no use. Y/N shrugged him off once she saw Harry’s name on her lockscreen and Violet went right back to her rantings.

(Harry, 6:37 pm)

Can you come over again tonight?

She hated the way his text gave her butterflies. Like she was some high schooler with a big fat crush on the hot, popular jock she could never have. Still, she could not deny that him asking her to come over again made her fucking heart melt.

She ate a bit of her dinner before responding to him; just enough time to think up a believable story for her roommates. She wouldn’t get away with her coworker's place this time. She didn’t work tomorrow and had no reason to be spending the night there. So, after a moment to devise a believable plan for her roommates, she gave Harry her simple answer.

(Y/N, 6:49 pm)

Yeah.

Then she spent the rest of her time at her own apartment trying to find the right moment to squeeze into the conversation about her not staying in her own room tonight. She did eventually get it out, making up a lie that she was going over to a friend’s place. Friends she hadn’t talked to or seen since college, but Will, James, and Violet didn’t need to know that.

“I didn’t even know you were still friends with them.” Will questioned while he washed dishes and Y/N dried them. The others were in the living room after they finished putting away the leftovers.

“Well, I haven’t talked to them in a while, but yeah.”

Will just shrugged and handed her another plate to dry and put back into the cupboard overhead. “I know you hate it when I get all sappy, but I’m really glad you’re seeing your friends again and you just seem… happier.”

They all knew Y/N had really rough days and mostly tried to ignore it and let her be like she had asked them too, but Will often tried to get through to her, even if just to remind her that he cared about her and wanted nothing more than to see her happy. 

She felt guilty about lying, that he had no clue what she was really doing. And even though her sleeping with his best friend and colleague was just that, sleeping, it still made her feel a bit dirty, like they weren’t just sleeping if she felt the need to hide it from everyone. 

Telling some of her closest friends that she and Harry were friends-with-cuddle-buddy-benefits was not something she saw happening. Not any time soon. Or ever.

Once the dishes were done and she had a bag packed to take over to Harry’s, she was back on the same winding roads up to his house. This time, however, she felt a little more confident. He wanted her to be here. She wasn’t imposing on him. She’d let him see a glimpse of her true colors last night and he was still asking her to come over again.

They ended up on his couch this time instead of going straight to bed, mostly because it had only been nine o’clock when she showed up and neither of them were tired enough yet. Plus, they couldn’t exactly drown themselves in a shared bottle of whiskey in his bedroom without potentially spilling it all over his 400 thread count sheets.

Once both their brains were swimming in alcohol, Harry finally said what he’d been meaning to the second she stepped foot inside his house. What he’d been thinking about the entire time they sat together and watched multiple episodes of Whose Line Is It Anyway, but he never found the right words or moment to do so.

“You’re not ugly.”

“What?” She flipped her head over to him, staring at him like he was crazy while he laid back against the cushions, practically half passed out at this point.

His eyes travelled to meet hers and his frown became even more prominent. “You’re not ugly and no one would be stuck with you, they’d be lucky to have you.”

She stared at him for a while, not even blinking until she finally averted her gaze and let his words sink in. She knew he was just drunk and possibly talking straight out of his ass, but it still made her feel better nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry about what I said. It’s kind of hard for me to believe you know anything about loneliness.”

He still stared up at her even though she refused to look at him again. “I see so many people every day, but I still come home to this big empty house all by myself at the end of it.”

She was quiet, letting him explain all the things she didn't understand about his personal life.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but too many people, the only thing they want is an interview, a picture, a photoshoot. Whatever. All so they can make money, or get famous on the internet.” He paused and she could hear in his voice that he was tired, not necessarily physically, but mentally exhausted by what his life was truly like at the bottom line. “It’s extremely lonely when every single person you’ve let in your life like that just ends up taking advantage of you in the exact same way as everyone else.”

“What do you mean they’ve taken advantage of you?” Her voice was soft, trying her hardest not to sound as judgmental as she’d been with him last night. They both appeared to have their demons and she had no room to judge him for his. 

He sighed, picking at the front of his shirt distractedly. “My last girlfriend brought all her friends to this party I was having, but they just ended up stealing from me. They took pictures of my house, and of me when I was drunk. I felt like an idiot for trusting her the way I did… I still feel like an idiot.”

Her heart clenched in her chest listening to the way his voice cracked like he was only just breaking the surface of everything that happened in his previous relationship to make him as messed up as he was on the inside.

“So I was being a bit hypocritical when I got mad at you about not letting people in. You’re the first person I let get anywhere near me in over a year.”

“Why did you?”

He was staring at his hands in his lap when she looked over at him again. “I dunno.”

“Wow, great response, thanks,” she said sarcastically and it made him laugh at himself and come out of the hole he’d been digging himself into.

Once they were both done laughing, another risky question came to his mind, but just as he opened his mouth to get it out, she sighed and sat forward instead. “Think I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” he mumbled quietly before yawning at the mere thought of being passed out in his bed, “I’ll meet you up there.”

Nodding, she stood and on wobbly legs made her way upstairs where she vaguely remembered going last night. With her overnight bag in tow, she quickly found his bedroom again in the dimly lit upstairs area and flipped the lights on once she reached the bathroom. Her normal routine went a bit quicker this time, deciding one night without washing her face wouldn’t kill her.

She already knew, once she turned the bathroom light off and made her way back into his deserted bedroom, that she’d regret that decision when she woke up in the morning to new breakouts that had been waiting patiently to pop up.

Her tipsy mind didn’t care too much though and especially not when it cared a hell of a lot more about the view out his windows. So, instead of dragging her tired limbs to his bed, she went up to them, and looked out over the view of the city. At all the lights from tall buildings, other houses and traffic. It was beautiful, breathtaking and the whiskey swimming around her bloodstream couldn’t get enough of it. 

She stood there in front of the window for what felt like hours, staring off into the distance of a pretty good chunk of Los Angeles. It was a different view of the city than the ones she was used to. She usually hated it, the fake people, how expensive it was to do absolutely anything. She couldn’t even park her car at work for free. She hated how the streets always smelled like ass and the way her anxiety skyrocketed just from stepping out of her apartment building. It wasn’t a very forgiving city, but from way up here, she was in love with it.

Harry had already joined her in front of the windows by the time she realized he was there, a side effect of being in some weird drunken trance she supposed.

“This is the only thing I’ll miss about this place.” His voice was calm and quiet. Peaceful. His words weren’t so slurred and filled with disappointment as they had been earlier when he was dishing out his own confessions to her on the couch. 

She glanced over at him, lost now in the way the moonlight reflected off the high points of his face. She always thought Harry was attractive, but seeing him like this and knowing the things about him she’s sure he kept to himself most of the time, made her see him in a whole new light. Like she was meeting him for the very first time and just now realizing all the little things about him. From the way he stood with his weight off to one side and his arms folded across his chest to the way his eyes sparkled just like the city lights below them. All things she probably wouldn’t even be thinking about if she hadn’t gotten herself drunk.

“The automatic curtains are pretty cool.” He shook his head at her stupid little joke and she easily recognized the smile on his face from the shadows of his dimples. Another little thing about Harry she was just now learning to fully appreciate. As well as the way her stomach did cartwheels when he laughed at something she said. 

If she wasn’t drunk, every little feeling about Harry would be an enormous red flag telling her to slow the fuck down. That she was getting a little too carried away. 

And when he was no longer standing next to her, when he disappeared into the bathroom to get himself cleaned up for bed, she found one little thing about Harry she didn’t like. 

His absence. 

She was more at ease being the first one to crawl into Harry’s bed. She didn’t have to worry about getting too close to him right off the bat, or about pulling the covers off of him accidentally. She could get herself comfortable first and with this whole situation being so foreign to her and so new, she needed it. She needed a chance to get used to it on her own. To dip her toes into the water until she felt fully acclimated to the temperature. 

And once he finally joined her, she was. His bed slowly started to become like her own, even if she had only slept there once before. The anxiety subsided while it finally began to feel as though she belonged right there next to him. 

Even from a distance, as he left plenty of space between them, she felt the heat of his body radiating off of him and his impression in the mattress where he laid. She felt him wiggle around a little until he got comfortable. 

And then finally, she held her breath, prayed that she wouldn’t accidentally kick him, and backed up toward him until she could actually feel him. Until she bumped her shoulder into his chest and her foot against his shin. 

Only drunk Y/N would be pulling such bold moves. 

He kept his hands to himself though, and she grew anxious the longer he stayed silent. There was still a small gap between her back and his front, no more than half an inch. Space he didn’t attempt to fill for a long enough amount of time to make her overthink her actions. Like maybe she was being too forward. Maybe they were better off falling asleep apart and naturally coming together through the night. 

But, when she felt his breath on her neck, tickling loose strands of her hair against her skin, she stopped worrying so much. “S’it okay if I touch you?”

Her heart just about stopped when she heard him whisper that, because hearing him ask for permission she realized he’d been sitting there overthinking as much as she had. Wondering if he should just go for it or not. Not being sure if she’d be okay with that. 

And not that she’d ever tell him, but it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her, the way he’d asked first. Because Y/N didn’t like to be touched very much at all. It was a rarity for her to be okay with anyone putting their hands on her for whatever reason. 

But, for whatever reason, she hadn’t minded the few times Harry had done it. In fact, she’d craved his touch. It was something she never thought possible of her, but here she was breaking her own rules.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

As if in slow motion, he slipped his hand onto her side, bringing his body closer to hers as he carefully hugged his arm around her. And with her own arms crossed over her chest, cuddling into herself, he gently grabbed her wrist to hold himself into place. It took them both a couple more moments to get into comfortable positions, but it eventually worked out. He held onto her tighter once he laid his head down on his pillow, breathing in the scent of her coconut shampoo with his face practically buried in the back of her head, and he started drifting off. 

It became very clear, very quickly, that being the big spoon to his pillows was no match for Y/N. Not with how warm she made him feel or the way her breathing offset his and calmed him down. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt the way he did with her with anyone else either. It was different. Y/N had no cold spots, no ill-intentions. She couldn’t possibly want anything from him when she refused to speak to him up until a week ago. He felt free with her. As free as he had been as a child, when he didn’t care about disappointing people and when he didn’t live in a constant state of paranoia about who he could trust. When he didn’t overthink himself into insomnia or toss and turn all night from the stress of it all.

Feeling her against him, breathing her in. He was free.

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[anemonenemerosa]

Oops sorry!! I just assumed with oknutzy! Maybe 17 for Wolfstar 🥰

No worries, anon! Since your request was already written by @mooncat457writing (read it, it’s sooo good) and no other prompt of the list was simliar, I thought of a new one and wrote something for you. I hope you ike it!

"The door fell shut behind me while getting the mail. Now I'm stuck outside on a windy October day"

The bright side of locking yourself out 

It was 1 pm when the insistent ringing of the doorbell jerked Sirius out of his dreams. He grumbled for a few moments before his brain caught up and reminded him that he'd ordered a replacement for the broken gear-belt of his motorcycle. And Sirius really needed to get the bike repaired 'cause taking the tube to and from work was just the worst. So, he jumped out of bed and raced to the door of the building – there's no way he's missing the mailperson! Tough luck, Sirius was just in time to see the backlights of the delivery-truck disappear behind a corner.

"God, damnit!" He cursed loudly, mentally just warming up for a full-on rant when a particularly forceful wind-gust shoved half a ton of leaves in Sirius' face and caused an unfortunate bang behind his back.

No. Please no. Slowly, as if keeping off looking might undo what the dreadful noise promised, Sirius turned around, finally staring at the firmly closed door. It is just now that he realised that he's not only stuck outside on a rather unpleasant mid-October day, no, he's stuck outside barefoot, only wearing his pyjama bottoms and a worn shirt. No phone, no keys. It began to rain, no umbrella. What. A. Day.

Just two months ago, Sirius still lived with James and that wouldn't have been much of a problem. Back in the day, James was still writing his final assignment for his degree and stayed at home all the time.But since he graduated, found himself a paying job and moved in with Lily, Sirius lives alone for the very first time in his 25 years on this planet. And while he loved Lily dearly, Sirius couldn't always stop himself from feeling a bit abandoned and lonely, which was ridiculous, of course. Since they got together, James and Lily never let any doubt creep in that Sirius was anything but loved and treasured by both of them.

But the sentiment was of no use just then. In that moment, he needed to find a pragmatic solution. What does one do, trapped outside with no phone, no keys and no shoes? Sirius sighed in resignation. One does walk to the next cafe, beg them to use their phone without coming off as a complete nutter and call James to rescue him.

About five steps from the door, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, quest forgotten. Walking right up to him was his neighbour from upstairs, the most intriguing person Sirius has ever met, or almost met, seen that they had never talked before.

The guy seemed very unassuming the few times he saw him in the stairway with his knit sweaters and washed out jeans. He was very quiet in the mornings as if he unknowingly considered that Sirius, as a bartender, worked during the nights and really needed his mornings to sleep. During the afternoon however, enjoyable music wafted down through Sirius' open windows together with the delicious smell of freshly cooked food.

The neighbour -Lupin, it said on the mailbox- stared at Sirius with wide eyes for a moment before he stepped closer, holding his umbrella over both of them.

"Erm." The other man said instead of greeting him.

"Please don't ask." Sirius implored him, completely done with this day already. But then again, Lupin had a nice voice.

"Right", Lupin laughed, "You live in the basement, right? Black? I'm going to ask anyway... aren't you cold?"

Not what Sirius expected to be asked. Naturally, his response was eloquent, he was absolutely not caught off guard, "Uhh -yeah, I live here. And- and I'm cold... but I thought you were-"

"-going to ask why you are out here?" Lupin laughed again, a really nice sound, "You clearly locked yourself out. No one goes around in the rain in October like this. Want to come in to mine? Dry off and call someone?"

With that he looked pointedly at Sirius, who took the glance as a clue to have a look at himself. So, summed up, he was drenched, with dirty feet and unkempt hair. Not the first impression he wanted to make on his neighbour. He's a proper adult now. Anyhow, this was by far his best option "That would actually safe my day."

Without another word, Sirius was led upstairs, offered a warm shower and some soft clothes, which were a bit too big for him (Lupin was at least half a head taller than himself). Clean and dry, Sirius sits in Lupin's little kitchen for his next task: calling James, who couldn't leave work for another three hours, meant that Sirius either waited for another four hours or paid 600 pounds for key-service to open his door, which he found out in the next call. He got a string of curses off his chest and was met with an astounded look of Lupin, who had poked his head though the door. Today, Sirius was impressively good at presenting himself at his worst.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, not looking at his generous neighbour.

"Nah it's fine." Said one just shrugged, "What did your friend say?"

"Another four hours or 600 pounds." Sirius supplied, feeling a little miserable.

"Oh, unfortunate. Do you want to wait here? I have some work to do but you can hang out if you want."

"No, thank you. That would be too much" It really would.

"No. Really, it's no bother. I wouldn't offer if it wasn't alright." Lupin waved him off, "I'm Remus, by the way. And before you ask: Yes, Remus like in the Roman mythology"

"Nice to officially meet you, Remus, like in the Roman mythology." Sirius bowed mockingly, "I'm Sirius, and before you ask, yes, like the star and yes, I've probably heard all of the serious-jokes in existence by now."

With introductions out of the way, Sirius was sat on the big and comfortable couch in the living room with a nice cup of milky tea. He had no idea what to do now and felt a bit awkward, but his neighbour seemed unbothered by his surprise-guest.

"Sorry to be such a bad host but I have a bit work to do, I didn't get to do last night. If you like, feel free to take whatever book sparks your interest from the shelves." Remus apologised and put on some quiet music over his phone while settling in a cosy armchair across the couch with a stack of papers on his lap. It was only then, that Sirius realised how good-looking Remus was. His hair, light brown, wavy and a bit shaggy was falling slightly into his bright hazel eyes, focused on the papers in front of him. Suddenly, Remus huffed, scrunched up his slightly crooked nose (dusted with freckles that spread over his cheekbones) and lifted his left hand to his thin-lipped mouth to gnaw at his thumbnail.

"Displeasing literature?" Sirius heard himself asking before he could check the question in his mind for stupidity.

"You have no idea." the other man grumbled, "That one actually wrote that the inhabitants of Egypt are the mummies!"

Sirius couldn't help but bark a laugh at the affronted tone of Remus' voice,

"So, you're teaching history?"

"Yeah." Remus sighed and plucked a red pen from the little table beside him and began vigorously scribbling onto the paper.

The conversation felt to be over for now as Sirius' host seemed, indeed, quite busy. So, Sirius took up the offer to have a look at the bookshelves lining three walls of the room. The carped felt warm and soft under his bare feet while he strolled along the shelves. Quickly he recognised several of his favourites among the countless books and when his eye caught on The Little Prince, he couldn't resist to take it with him back to the couch.

When he was settled again, Remus looked up to see what Sirius had picked and smiled around a soft hum "I've read so many books and this is still one of my favourites."

Sirius couldn't help but smile back. "Mine, too."

From then on, they sat in a far more comfortable silence than before, both engulfed in their literature. Now and then, Remus huffed or snorted and shared some of the more entertaining mishaps of his students. It felt like they've been spending their afternoons together like this for years. Sirius was simultaneously at peace and properly creeped out.

After a while. Remus got up and returned with a fresh cup of tea for both of them. Steeped for exactly long enough, with the perfect amount of milk in it.

"It's wild that I've been living here for a little over two months and we barely even saw each other, isn't it?" Sirius commented, cradling his new cup in his hands while Remus got once again comfortable in his armchair.

"No, not really." The other man supplied with a slightly sad smile, "See, I teach evening classes from around 7 pm to midnight, get home around 1 am and because I'm an absolute night owl, I usually do my grading and preparations right after until 4 or 5 and then sleep 'till noon. And while I thrive in my rhythm, it's a bit hard to meet, or just come across, people... or get to go out for breakfast. It's silly but I love breakfast and until I get up, most places have switched to the lunch-menu already."

What are the chances. "And here I thought that you were so quiet in the mornings because you are psychic and just know that I sleep during that time." Sirius couldn't help the chuckle bubbling up his throat at the puzzled expression of the man across him. "I'm a bartender and work from 8 to 3 in the morning during the week and until 5 on Fridays and Saturdays." He elaborated, "after that I'm often too riled up to go directly to sleep, so I often go to bed around 6 and sleep until 1."

Remus just stared at him. "Our schedules are nearly identical."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply when the sound of the doorbell interrupted them. Remus got up to open the door to a hurried James, who handed Sirius the spare-keys, kissed his cheek and stormed off again.

"So, this was James. Is he your boyfriend, then?" The cosy atmosphere dissolved with the appearance of a wary look on Remus' face.

"Nah. He is my best friend, practically brother. I know, kissing is rather uncommon between two male friends, but we've been doing that since we met fourteen years ago, and I don't give a shit about convention." Sirius explained with a fond smile on his face.

After that, they parted rather quickly as both men needed to get ready for work, but a lot still lingered in the air, unsaid. His shift went over much too slow for Sirius while he brooded over the change in the atmosphere at the end of his stay with his neighbour.

The next day, Sirius woke up with a plan. A potentially humiliating plan, but worth the risk. He got up much quicker than usual, fired up the oven and began preparing. Around 12:30 Sirius knocked at his neighbour's door and was met with a sleepy Remus in pyjamas.

"Hey- erm... good morning! Here are your clothes!" Sirius began far too loud. All he achieved was a furrowed brow on the other man's face.

Get a grip, Black! "Uhh...OK. Listen, I really like you. Would you like to have a breakfast-date with me?" He tried to put on a winning smile while lifting the tray in his hands a bit.

Remus, who had blushed furiously during Sirius' rambling, blinked at him once before a wide grin spread on his face and he stepped aside to let Sirius and the warm croissants in.

[northcarolinanative]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝟼)

Chapter 6: It Was Too Easy

A/N: This is a long one, some fluff I guess, I promise I'm getting there haha. Also two in one day? Kinda proud of myself haha. No warning on this one.. I don't think. 

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. Her and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

Need to catch up? Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 

I looked over the office space, it was pretty clean if I do say so myself, the cleanest I have ever seen it at least. The desk was bare except for a few supplies, the shelves neatly stacked with books, and the surfaces all nicely wiped down. I took one last glance over the door before making my way to the door that JJ was leaned against. I pulled it closed and locked the door. For a while at least, I would not have to be reminded of it. I walked out leaned against the counter, looking at JJ. 

“So what was that about back there.” I sat on the barstool as he moved to the kitchen, pulling out groceries. “What are you talking about?” He raised an eyebrow at me, pulling out a pot and some pasta. 

“Back at the police tent.” I walked over pulling out the spoons and stuff for the pasta. “You said I can’t be…” I paused and motioned over my body, “me. Why?” 

“Oh. Yeah umm, you know how I said Ward adopted John B?” I just nodded in response, beginning to pour the pasta into the water JJ put on the stove. “Well his social worker was standing over there, and I didn’t want her to know that you were his sister. She might try to take you too.” He looked up at me, his head still hanging low. 

My heart broke, the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes was heart wrenching. I walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. This form of comforting each other through physical affection, while new, was our go to. We knew that we both lacked the words to help the other. He put his arms around my neck. I squeezed him a little tighter. “I’m not gonna go anywhere. There’s no way you're losing me J.” I felt him hold me a little closer. 

Our moment was soon interrupted by the water boiling over onto the stove. I quickly moved to grab the spoon and stir it, moving to turn the heat down. JJ moved to grab a towel, out arms brushing, just enough for me to notice. We continued to cook in silence until it was ready. 

“So to the ferry office first?” JJ questioned as we began to eat. “Or should we start somewhere else?” 

“We need to know the area that the ship was in, or was found, you know? Before we get any other ship info.” I put another spoonful of pasta into my mouth looking at JJ. 

“Do you think Shoope will give that info out?” He questioned. 

“Honestly, I have no idea, but it was your boat. Maybe we can pull that string.” 

“My dad’s boat…” JJ said before falling silent. 

“Right.” I took in a deep breath. The room fell uncomfortably silent. I was no stranger to the way that JJ’s dad treated him. I had known him as long as John B had. It broke me to know that if Luke finds out about this or finds JJ, I don’t know what will happen. JJ risked everything to help John B, and hopefully, it wasn’t for nothing.

--

We finished up eating and cleaning the kitchen before starting off the walk back to the sheriff’s tent. I was hoping that giving my car a break would help her to start again. We approached the tent and JJ stopped. “I think that you should sit in the car.” 

“Excuse me?” I snapped. 

“Not that I don’t want you to come, but a lot of Big John’s friends and Co-workers are here.” I glanced up to see the other fishermen and neighbors in the tent. “And that lady, the social worker, she's close to the agent, and-”

“Okay JJ” I put my arm on his shoulder. “I get it.” 

“I just don’t wanna risk someone noticing you, and her sending you back to the mainland. I can’t go through with this goose chase alone.” 

I laughed. “Of course. Okay, you need to ask for the coordinates of where the boat went down, and where it was found, we’ll go from there okay?” 

He held his hand up to salute me. I mirrored his and saluted back, “Aye, Aye Capt’n.” He turned away, both of us laughing. I kept my head down as I walked back to the car. The more I thought about it, the more that what JJ was saying worried me. I was supposed to start school in the fall, I had no one to stay with and they found out my uncle wasn’t here. I needed to stay as undercover as possible. I undid my keys from my pocket and got in. I was right, my car started. I rolled the windows down enough to get some air in, but let the window tint still keep me hidden in the car. I flipped through radio stations, waiting for JJ to get back into the car. Half of me expected him to come back empty-handed, because of his relationship with Shoope, and the law in general. After this morning though, the way that he looked at JJ, half of me thought JJ would not even have to try too hard for the coordinates. 

“Ah, I see she started.” JJ said, opening the door. I jumped up from his sudden burst into the car. “Maybe next time you hide, lock the doors?” He turned, pulling the seat belt over him, as I did the same. “Oh, I love this song!” He turned up the radio sitting back. I just looked at him, a confused look on my face. “What?” He smiled at me. 

“You know what? Did you get it? What happened?” 

“Oh yea.” He dug in his pockets. He pulled out a yellow sticky note.”I present to you” He dramatically handed you the slip. “The last coordinates of the Phantom” 

His smile was big as I reached out and gripped the paper. “35.081289,-75.950656” is red. “JJ how did you even?” 

“Ah, it was too easy Y/N” He took the sticky note back from me and slipped it back in his pocket. “I told him that my dad needed the coordinates for some insurance thing.” He started. “Kie and Pope were there” 

“What? Did you talk to them?” I asked, worry coating my voice. Things didn’t seem right with them since John B left, which I hated. “You aren’t avoiding talking to them because I’m here right?” I had to ask, I did not want JJ losing his closest friends because I came back and he felt like he had to take care of me. 

“What? No! Absolutely not. I don’t know. Since they kissed they’ve been figuring things out I guess.” He reached over to grab my hand. “Don’t think you’re changing me that much Routledge” He joked, but I could tell he meant it. 

I squeezed his hand before moving to shift the car in gear. “So what happened?” I asked, still wanting to know. “Did they speak to you?”

“Oh, yea. They seemed a little worried when I was talking about my dad like they wanted to ask about me, what I was doing. They didn’t though. Shoope just gave me the numbers and I didn’t really stick around. They weren’t saying anything, I’m not sure what they were there for. Shoope said that they had not found anything, but they were still looking” He scoffed at the last part. “Compared to them, well, we’re literally better than the FBI.” 

“I’m sorry that Kie and Pope aren’t talking to you. I really am.” 

“Like I said. I’ve got you, you’ve got me” He said it with a smile on his face, causing one to grow on mine as well. “So where are we going now, Nancy Drew?” 

I laughed at the nickname he had given me, at least it was better than princess. “The ferry office, to hopefully con them out of one of those maps. And a ship list.” 

“Alright then. Sounds easy enough” I laughed again, I swear JJ could lighten the mood, anywhere anytime, and I was so thankful for that. 

-- 

We walked through the large glass door to the ferry office. “All the tickets are sold out for the next ride. Try again in a few hours.” The old man behind the desk said, without even looking up from the old box of a computer that sat in front of him. JJ gave me a disgusted look before walking to one of the models in the room, after motioning for me to talk to the man. I guess it was my turn to get the materials. 

“Uh, actually I was hoping you could help me find some public records.” I said walking up to the tall desk. 

He looked at me over the glasses that sat low on his nose. “And those would be?” I was hoping you could get me an ocean liner record and map from the days around the storm we just had?” I asked as calmly as I could. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I was extremely nervous. 

“And what does a youngin like you need with a liner map?” He said looking back at the computer. He started typing. “What area do you want?” I let out a breath. 

“The area surrounding the Banks would be fine if that's not too much.” I smiled at him. He gave me a questioning look. “And it’s for a school project, gotta work on that home history and workforce stuff”  I forced a smile, still had no idea what I was talking about. 

“Alright. Seems a bit intense for summer school?” He said standing up and reaching for the printer behind him, which began spitting out the large paper maps. 

“Summer classes, Chapel Hill. You're looking at one smart college girl right here” JJ said coming to stand behind you. 

“Oh. Alright, I’m glad they're covering this stuff over there on the mainland. It’s important.” The old man spoke handing you a few papers and 3 large maps. 

“Yes of course,” I said taking a few steps back. “Thank you so much! My professors are going to love this.” I said making the older gentlemen smile. JJ and I walked at a quicker pace. Once we were in the parking lot JJ wrapped his arms around my waist spinning me around him. 

“We did it Y/N! And it was easy. Nothing has been that easy before!” He laughed putting me down. 

“What can I say? I have a special touch.” We got back into the car. The sun had set while we were in the office. The ride was quiet, JJ messed with the radio the whole way back to the Chateau, flipping the station every thirty seconds, nothing peaking his interest. When we made our way back to the Chateau, We both sat on the folded out couch, exhausted. 

I placed the maps and took the sticky note from JJ on the counter. We went through the first map, from the night of the storm, seeing if any of the liners were running late, and possibly stopped their track because of the storm. We looked at all the times, the boat type, path and numbers, marking the Phantoms coordinates on the map, and drawing a path and radius. We were sorting it all out until later into the night. 

“Okay, As much as I want to work on this, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore” JJ collapsed onto the table for dramatic effect. 

“Alright Alright. It’ll still be here tomorrow. We’ll work on it tomorrow alright?” JJ lazily saluted to me. I walked into John B’s room, the same wave of nausea hit me, just as it had the night before. I quickly changed and left to go to the bathroom. I saw JJ standing shirtless in the bathroom brushing his teeth. I stood, leaning against the frame of the bathroom. 

“If you took a picture it would last longer” JJ joked. 

“Oh. Haha. I’m waiting for my turn to brush my teeth.” JJ just moved to hand me my toothbrush and the toothpaste, then stepped to the side. I slid past him and made my way to the sink. I looked in the mirror as he finished up brushing his teeth. 

“So, Are we sharing a bed again tonight?” Any other time I would have thought he was being a smart ass, but there was a genuine tone to his voice. “Because I don't mind the company” I just nodded, before finishing up brushing my teeth. I didn’t want to seem like a baby, but the thought of sleeping in my dead dad’s bed, or my missing brothers, just felt wrong right now. I laid down next to JJ, mirroring his position. We both stared up at the dark ceiling. 

“What are you thinking about?” I asked him. 

“That John B is really gonna owe me one when we find his ass.” JJ laughed. 

I turn on my side to face him. “What if we don’t?” My voice cracked, giving me up as tears started to fall down my face again. 

“Hey now.” JJ turned and pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “We will. You and your detective skills, and me with, well I don't know, but we’ll find him ok?” 

I just nodded into his chest. I put one arm over his side, letting him know I was comfortable. I just mumbled out a soft “ok.” 

“Alright, We worked hard today, let’s get some sleep alright” 

I slowly started to fall asleep, the long day had taken a toll on me. Before I completely fell asleep I felt JJ place a kiss into my hair and rest his head on top of mine, leaving me to smile against his chest like an idiot. 

Chapter 7

--

Tag List: @nikki082489 @lovelymaybankk @dolanfivsosxox @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @downbytheouterbanks @heyhargrove​ @kayln021 @readysteadygo23  @im-a-stranger-thing @thatsonobx @dumbxgurl @ameeraaa21 @zehnuhrfunf @imagines-and-preferences1216

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 6

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,400

Warnings: Spitting (Kind of)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah stared at the picture in front of her, memorizing the details of the staff. It was made of wood, intricately carved, and kept in a glass case.  The stand it sat upon was very likely pressurized, any change in weight would set off the alarm. There were no heat sensors in the display room, but there were motion sensors and a steady rotation of guards. Not super tricky, but not child’s play.

“Do you have blueprints of the building?” she asked, eyes looking to Brasa.

She’d been careful in how she looked at him for the entire meeting, not wanting to give away how she could still feel his lips ghosting across her skin. Though she hadn’t shared any more dreams with him, Lilah couldn’t keep her mind from going over how nice it felt to have his weight on her, how his hands (which she later realized were gloveless) felt as they coasted over her body.

“I do,” he replied, gesturing to Javier.

They were sitting in the vast room that served as Brasa’s office. Seth was standing next to the desk, going over the staffing schedule. Like most businesses, they had set shifts. Also like most businesses, their turnover rate was fairly high—the pay was definitely not enough to hold on to the more experienced or more talented staff.  This, of course, was all good for them.

Richie was sprawled in the chair next to her, “We got any of those explosives left?”

Lilah glanced at him, “Why? You want to blow a hold in the floor, drop the staff and its stand through to the bottom, and haul ass out through the sewer system?”

He smiled, lifting a shoulder, as if she’d perfectly described his thoughts. She took the blueprints from Javier and checked them over to see if they could make that work.

“As fun as that would be,” Lilah said, “and it would be pretty fun, the building doesn’t have an underground tunnel, sewer or otherwise. The foundation is too thick for that.”

“Well, damn,” Richie drawled, “Guess we’ll have to go with the old smash and grab.”

That wasn’t a bad idea, but Lilah hated to bring that kind of attention to them. It would not only set off the alarm, but the police station was less than three blocks away. Not a lot of time for their getaway. Better to do this nice and clean.

“Again, totally a fun idea, but not a smart one.”

Seth stood up, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Looks like we got about a half hour rotation for security. Plenty of time.”

It was plenty of time. There was no safe to crack, just a series of security measures to override. In some ways, that was more tricky. Lilah stared at the blueprints, her brain running over options.

“We’ll need a key card,” Richie prompted, sitting up and resting his forearms on his knees, “If we can get that, and the six digit passcode, we should be able to disable the system with no problem.”

She cut a look at him, “You have any ideas about how we can go about getting the card and code?”

He laughed, “Yeah.”

“Care to share with the class?”

“Knock out a guard, take the key card,” he explained, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, “There’s only one on-site during the evening hours.”

Not the worst plan.  To be fair, that was usually how their plans started out. Still, it left something to be desired.

“And the code?” She prompted lightly, setting the blueprints down on the desk in front of her.

“Oh, we’d threaten him first. Get the code that way.”

She blinked, “And if he’s lying.”

He paused, “Alright, we try the code first, then knock them out.”

Too messy.

Lilah gathered the photos she’d discarded in her lap and set them on the desk by the blueprints, “Maybe we get the code a couple days before, then wait until the gap in the rotation, break in, take the staff, and walk out.”

Richie smiled wide, “And, how do we get the code beforehand?”

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? They were lucky the codes didn’t roll over randomly—just one code assigned to each guard and used whenever they were on shift. Low maintenance, but high risk for this kind of location.

Seth crossed his arms, “Richie, you still got a couple of those tiny cameras laying around?”

Richie had bought about a hundred of these little cameras for ‘security purposes’, putting them around the bar. The move had paid off when they caught one of the bartenders taking some extra cash from the till at the end of shift. He’d never let Seth forget about it.

“Yeah, I got a few.”

“Alright,” Seth said as he braced his hands on the desk, “Lilah, you’ll going in and plant one of them in  the line of sight of the keypad. We’ll monitor until we get the passcodes.”

Lilah observed him with a wry smile, “Look at you, making your way into the future.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied dryly, her smile holding. It would take an act of God to get Seth to relinquish his way of doing things. Despite having an actual sun god in the room, Lilah was doubtful that she could get him to budge.

She rolled up the blueprints and handed them back to Javier with a nod of gratitude. He smiled wide at her, the expression self-satisfied. From across the desk, Brasa stood a little too quickly, a little growl cut off at the back of this throat.

“It seems you have this all in hand,” he said, a little too formally. “Lilah, I have the response to your edits in my personal library. If you’ll follow me.”

He turned and walked off towards a wall on the far side, hands tapping out a series of numbers on a pad situated on the wall. The smooth surface clicked open, and he pulled on it to reveal a hidden doorway. Impatiently, he looked back at her, a little nod indicating that she should hurry up.

With a click of her tongue, Lilah made her way towards him, moving through the doorway and into an incredibly dark hall. When Brasa pulled the door shut behind them, there was nothing to guide her way. Lilah felt her lungs draw in a shaky breath as she struggled to see. He stepped up and around her, taking her hand.

Lilah didn’t like the way she gripped the leather, didn’t like that she couldn’t see what was ahead. Still, she followed him until he slowed, the sound of keys being entered into a pad signaling that they’d come upon their destination.

When the door opened, he pulled her into a room that was lit with warm amber light. She blinked, her eyes adjusting. She knew this room. She knew the color of the walls, the texture of the ceiling, the feeling of the bed that dominated the space.

Already knowing the answer to the question, she asked, “Whose room is this?”

“Mine,” he replied, already moving to the far side and through an open door.

Lilah followed, feeling out of place. Awkwardly, she stood in the doorway and looked around the smaller, cozier room. Cast in dark wood and soft, sumptuous fabrics, the room was lined entirely with bookcases—floor to ceiling—that were absolutely stuffed with books.

Curious, she moved along the shelves nearest to her, hand skimming the tomes. There were languages she recognized and many that she didn’t. Her hands itched to pull them from the stacks and thumb through them. She wondered how long he had been collecting books, and how many of them filled this relatively small space.

At the center of the room was an overstuffed couch that sat opposite a desk with a computer and files scattered over it. Brasa was gathering paper and slipping it into one such folder, shoulders tense.

Lilah regarded him carefully, “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t spare her a look, tossing the file down and reaching for another, “I’m fine.”

“Yuh huh,” she said, “Seriously, what’s up with you? Five minutes ago, you were fine. Now, you’re...abusing office supplies.”

His expression, when he looked up at her, was incredulous, “What?”

“You’re throwing around files like they did something to you,” she couldn’t keep the laugh out of her voice.

His face hardened, and she could see the irises of her his eyes flicker. Lilah crossed her arms, waited. She’d found that if she waited a moment, he’d usually answer her, no matter the question. This seemed a good time to test that theory.

When her, admittedly small, patience ran out, she asked, “You going to tell me, or are you going to pout about it?”

“I’m not pouting,” he shot back, standing to his full height and circling the desk slowly.

She watched him warily, noting how tightly he was wound. He looked ready to lash out, and she was definitely in the line of fire. Irritated by his behavior, she shifted a little on her feet, unable to let it go.

“Well,” Lilah bit out, “You sure as shit aren’t talking about it.”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Brasa gave a humorless laugh, “You are impossible.”

She sneered, “That’s the second time you’ve told me that. It wasn’t true before, its not true now.”

His glance skittered away, “I realize that this is new for you, but you are walking a thin line.”

Lilah repeated the last three words, her eyes narrowed in confusion, “What the fuck does that mean?”

When his eyes found hers again, there was anger there, and not a little betrayal, “Flirting with other males in front of me is not going to get the response you want.”

She was...still confused. After a few more seconds, she was pissed off. Lilah took a step towards him, her jaw clenched.

“Who the fuck was—you know what? No, that’s not the point. The point is that you think I’m the kind of person who would do something like that to get a rise out of you.” She took a step back, “No, I’m not the asshole, here. You are.” And then, “You can email me the edits, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lilah walked as calmly (and quickly) as she could through his bedroom and out into the hall. In the dark, she cursed lowly and felt her way along until she reached the door, grateful that it was locked from this side and she didn’t have to wait for Brasa to key in the code.

Before she moved back into the office proper, Lilah took a deep breath and schooled her features. Her emotions were oscillating wildly from shock, to incredulity, to anger that burned hot in her belly. She hadn’t done a single thing wrong, and to be accused of...she didn’t even know what, made her want to blow something up. Damn shame that she’d already used all the explosives. Lilah took another calming breath.

With a well placed lie, she managed to get through the next few minutes of packing up. She was careful to keep conversation going on the way home, even stayed at the bar for a drink. Lilah gave nothing away as she quietly seethed. It wouldn’t do any good to vent this kind of frustration—not that she could really tell anyone.  Her personal relationship with Brasa was still secret, and she wasn’t going to upset the delicate balance that she’d set up with a childish outburst—unlike some people.

Lilah spent the evening vowing to hold this grudge as long as she could stand it, her fury remaining at a low simmer in her belly. When her phone vibrated in her pocket, she opened a text message from an unknown sender asking her to talk. She deleted it, focusing on the job she’d been contracted to perform.

Three days later, she was sitting in a van parked a block or so away from the museum, checking the comms.

“Everyone hear me?”

Seth’s voice sounded, “We can hear you. Now, shut up for a minute while I get this lock open.”

They had to do things the old fashioned away for the outer locks on the back door, no key code security measures. Lilah had rolled her eyes at the excited look on Seth’s face as he threw down his lock picks onto the table where they’d rolled out the blueprints Javier had loaned them.

From over the line, she heard Seth make an approving grunt, the sound of the door opening a moment after.

“We’re through the first set of doors.”

Lilah nodded, eyes on the computer in her lap, “Guard is starting his rotation. He’s just left the office.”

“Ten minutes for a full round,” Richie murmured, “I’ve clocked it.”

Again, she nodded, “I started the timer. Get in the office, cut the security feed.”

The museum had upgraded to digital a while back, but their servers only uploaded once an hour. She checked the clock. They had three minutes until upload. She watched Seth and Richie approach the office and bypass it for the server room. Two minutes. They were moving leisurely, almost sauntering through the hall. Wasting time.

“Pick up the pace,” she said.

“We’re on it, princess,” Seth retorted.

“Then get going” Lilah shot back in sing-song. “You’re down to a minute, fifteen seconds.”

On the screen, they found the server, and slipped the USB she’d made for them into the drive. Thirty seconds left. Lilah switched screens, watching the little yellow bar make its way from left to right. Fifteen seconds. The bar went green and she smiled.

“Server’s crashing,” she confirmed lowly. “Get out of there.”

With a salute to a camera that wasn’t recording, Seth grabbed Richie from where he was looking at the electronics, hauling him towards the next checkpoint. They would have to wait until the guard crossed back to the office, turn off the motion sensors, and get the staff out of the case.

That was the tricky part. The case was bolted down to its stand, and they couldn’t risk the sound of a drill alerting the guard.  They’d have to manually unscrew the case, hold down the weight sensor, lift the staff, replace it with the dummy weight, close the case, and get back to the checkpoint before the guard made their next round. Thirty minutes was a long time, but there was a lot to do.

“Guard’s coming,” Lilah warned.

They ducked behind a corner as the guard passed, Richie watching him discreetly. When it was safe, they circled around to the next room where the staff was on exhibit. Motion sensors disabled. On to the case.

Lilah appreciated how efficient they were, when they were focused. Moving as a single unit, they worked their way around the case, wrenches in hand, making quick work of it. Once they had it off, Seth reached into the bag they’d brought with them and held up the staff they’d created as a temporary replacement.

Richie had spent a few hours putting it together, and from a distance it looked pretty good. It would, at least, buy them enough time to get away and make the two hour flight back to Mexico. With any luck, it would be a few days before they figured it out. Lilah didn’t count on it. She’d booked a flight within an hour of when they were going to finish the job. No bags to check. Straight through security and onto the plane.

Lilah watched as Richie slipped a knife over the pressure sensor, his other hand nimbly plucking the staff from the stand. Seth carefully set the replica into place, both men holding very still as Richie pulled the knife free.  After a second or two where both looked to be holding their breath, Richie stuffed the staff into the bag as Seth replaced the case. Screws ratcheted back into place, motion sensors reactivated.

“Don’t forget the camera,” Lilah prompted, laughing when Seth scoffed and spun on his heel, snagging the device and pocketing it on the way down the hall.

“Guard’s on his round,” she whispered, “Get to the hallway. Now.”

Moving quickly, Seth rounded the corner, barely clearing it before the guard stepped into the room. They hustled back the way they came and out into the alley, locking the door behind them. Lilah closed down the computer and threw it in the backseat of the van, turning over the ignition. A few minutes later, the sliding door was opened and both men jumped inside. The van was already moving before they got the door closed again.

“Without a hitch,” Richie drawled as he relaxed in his seat.

Seth smiled at his brother, “That was good work.”

“We’re not done yet,” Lilah called back, “Still have to get it across the border.”

“Ah,” Seth sighed, “That’s the beauty of it. The postal system is going to do all the hard work for us.”

Reaching back, he pulled the prepped box from the third row of seats. He snapped at Richie, who handed him the bag. Into the box went the staff, with a little bubble wrap for protection. A little packing tape, and it was all sealed up and ready to go.

Lilah pulled off to the side and into the parking lot of the mail center, watching as Seth hopped out of the van and dropped the package into the chute. It would be at the bar within a few days. Easy peasy.

She slept on the plane, an alarm set for sunrise. Since she’d last seen him, Lilah had refused to sleep during the day, and only for a few hours at a time. It made her irritable and a little foggy, but she didn’t want to see him. Whenever she thought about their last interaction, Lilah got angry all over again. She’d take a little hit to her functioning to have their next meeting be completely on her terms.

Lilah had gone over the conversation a hundred times, wondering how he’d gotten the impression that she’d been trying to goad him by flirting with—she actually couldn’t figure out which male he’d been concerned about. Best she could figure, he was working off an old framework, the power imbalance between himself and his queen. That wasn’t going to fly, not with her. She had too much going on to deal with a partner (was he even her partner?) who’d go off half-cocked at the slightest feeling of jealousy. No. Lilah had other shit to deal with.

It was with regret that she knew she would have to go and speak with him. Lilah couldn’t avoid him forever—she snorted at the thought—things would have to be cleared up eventually. Besides, she needed to get back to her sleep schedule if she was going to be of any use to anyone. Better to rip this metaphorical Band-Aid off quickly, and soon.

Arguing that she had to deliver the next draft of the treaty, Lilah stashed the staff in the back seat of her car and headed out into the dying sun. The two hour drive gave her enough time to work out what she was going to say. First, she was going to demand an apology. Lilah deserved that much. Then, she was going to discuss boundaries for the future. That seemed like the adult thing to do.  Lilah congratulated her self at how mature the plan sounded in her head. Reality, however, wasn’t quite so easy.  

As she pulled into the parking lot, Lilah debated leaving the staff in the elevator to be found by whoever might be walking by and hauling ass back to the bar. That, unfortunately, would put the covering of their expenses (for which she had receipts) at risk. She’d never live it down if she came back empty handed. So, into the elevator she went.

In the carriage, Lilah felt warmth crawl up her side. She sneered to the ceiling, “Stop it.”

It stopped.

Steeling herself, Lilah stepped into the red light and headed for the bar. Brasa already knew she was here, so all she had to do was sit and wait for him to come to her. She pushed up onto a bar stool and set leaned the staff next to her legs. When the bartender approached, she ordered a bourbon, watching him pour the shot. When she tried to pay, he waved her off, telling her it was on the house.

Suspicious, she pocketed the cash and picked up the glass, sniffing. Nothing smelled off with it, so she took the tiniest sip. Tasted fine. She set it down. Suspicious. Lilah very rarely got free drinks, her looks too severe, her manner too cold. To be fair, that was her preference most of the time. Lilah didn’t have the energy or the patience to fend off advances from drunken men.

A shadow appeared beside her, but it was too cold to be the person she was waiting for. Lilah looked up, unsmiling.

“Can I help you?”

The man flashed his teeth, “I’m Benny.”

Lilah continued to look at him, unamused.

Uninvited, he sat, leaning an arm on the bar top, “You’re not what I expected.”

She debated answering him, a half dozen cutting remarks flying through her mind. In the end, she settled for turning her attention to her drink and ignoring him. Best course of action, really. Lilah needed to save all her quips for the person she was actually mad at.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

At this Lilah rolled her eyes, fixing the guy with a look that said, ‘what the fuck do you think?’

His expression grew still, and she could see the glint of his game face, though he worked to control it. He growled, his hand grasping her arm above the elbow. The grip was painful, and Lilah only just managed to keep her expression cool as she felt the very real danger he presented to her. She was armed, both gun and knife, but she was technically in enemy territory. Starting a fight with one might mean starting a fight with all.  Her eyes scanned the room, too many possible enemies nearby.  

She’d have to talk her way out.

Heat pushed at her back.

Or not.

Benny let her go, sliding off the stool and taking a step away. Lilah craned her neck to confirm what she already knew.

“Oh, thank God,” she murmured, reaching down and picking up the staff, “I got what you asked for.”

Brasa’s attention was on the culebra who was backing away. He stared them down for a few more seconds before his eyes turned to her. Lilah held up the staff, shaking it from side to side a little.

He glanced at the staff, glanced at her, then turned, “Come with me.”

Lilah stared at his back for a second before she sighed and followed him through to his public office. There was no conversation as they traversed the stone pathway towards his desk. When he reached it, Brasa leaned his hips back on the desktop, gloved hands folded in front of him.

Wordlessly, Lilah handed him the staff. He took it, held it in both hands for barely a moment before setting it aside. For as much effort as he was going through to get ahold of it, he certainly didn’t look pleased to actually have it in his possession.

Unable to take more silence, Lilah said the only thing she could think of, “For the record, I wasn’t flirting with him, either.”

First shot fired. Lilah shifted on her feet in preparation for return fire.

Eyes dropping down and to the side, Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets and released a heavy sigh, “I regret how I reacted last time we spoke.”

Well, that was unexpected. Lilah had expected him to double down on it, not express regret. Still, that wasn’t an apology. It did, however, take the edge of her anger.

Lips pursed, she replied, “I’m sure you do.”

Another sigh. It looked like she was going to have to take lead on this, if she wanted a resolution. Lilah very deliberately did not think about why she might want resolution as opposed to giving him the eternal cold shoulder.

“Hey,” she began, holding up her hands, “You can’t get angry any time I’m nice to anyone around me. I have work to do, and that involves having good relationships. Jealousy is not a good look.”

He nodded, “I am unused to these feelings and I am struggling to control them.”

A good explanation, but not an excuse for the behavior.

“That’s okay,” Lilah responded, taking a step forward, “But you need to talk with me about them and not...make assumptions.”

Another nod, “I’m sorry.” There was her apology. “I will try.”

She saw it for what it was, a gesture of good faith. Mollified by his words, Lilah’s shoulders dropped. She hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been holding in her body for the last few days. And now, she didn’t quite know what to do with all the built up anger. Suddenly, she was very tired.

“Good,” she said, “Let’s call it rule number one: if something is bothering us, we’ll talk about it.”

At this, he stood up straighter, his eyes finally finding hers, “I can do that.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to continue blocking me?” He asked in a small voice.

Brows together, Lilah responded lamely, “Blocking?”

He shrugged, “I haven’t been able to feel you while you were acquiring the staff. I worried.”

Ah. Lilah wondered if he’d picked that up. Of course he had.

“I’m sorry,” She said reflexively, “I needed a little space.”

He licked his lips, eyes regretful. Lilah felt a stab of remorse in her chest. She hadn’t meant to make him worry, she just needed to take a little time for herself to work out her feelings. And, she couldn’t do that if she could feel him with her in the interim. Still, she could also make a gesture of good faith.

“Alright,” she breathed, moving closer to him, “Rule number two, if we talk about it, we won’t block each other out of spite.”

Looking placated, Brasa reached out and took her hands, “I’m glad you are safe.”

“Me, too,” Lilah laughed, “There was no danger. We got in and out with no problems.”

He shook his head, “That isn’t the danger I’m worried about. The culebra out there? Benny? He’s been stirring the others up. He knows who you are to me, and I don’t put it past him to strike out at you to get to me.”

Setting aside the question of how Benny figured out that Lilah was bonded to Brasa, she took a minute to think, “Should I pull a weapon next time?”

He smirked, “You’re a terrible shot.”

“I didn’t say it would be a gun.”

“Oh?”

“I still have my knife. I did alright with the last guy. Got him twice before he threw me through the window.”

Brasa winced, “The point is that he was able to throw you through a window before I got there.”

“That is a good point,” Lilah said seriously, though she could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He rolled his eyes, “Be serious.”

“I am,” she shot back, “I can handle myself in a fight. Usually.”

That was only half a lie. Lilah could handle herself with humans, most of the time. She’d been struggling to hold her own in a fight with a culebra ever since she’d first come up against them. But, he didn’t need to know that.

Deciding that she needed to change the subject, Lilah nodded to the staff, “What do you need it for, anyway?”

He drew he a little closer, expression serious, “I intend to close the portal between this world and Xibalba, so that no others like me come through it.”

She blinked, “Like you?”

Brasa hummed in confirmation, standing and leading her to the side where the secret door was open and waiting.

“Culebras were slaves there, treated as slaves, culled when needed,” he explained, stepping into the dark hallway. “Xibalbans are, as a whole, selfish creatures—destructive, vain, apathetic. Despite my birth status, I experienced what it was like to be subservient to them for many centuries. I don’t want this world to see that kind of pain.”

Lilah listened quietly, walking with him into his bedroom and through to his library where she sat on the couch at his side.

“I’ve done a lot of research,” he continued, “With the relics you acquire for me, I can close the veil permanently.”

She waited a few seconds to make sure he wasn’t going to explain further, then said, “I’m completely on board with this plan.”

He smiled, “I thought you might be.”

“How many more relics to I need to get?”

Brasa laid his arm over the back of the couch, “Three. A cup, a book, and a knife.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“It could be,” he replied, reaching out to trace along her jaw, “I still worry for you. I think I always will.”

She could feel the heat of his body beneath the leather, and she found that she wanted to feel his hands—for real, this time, instead of vague remnants from a dream. In the moments of quiet, her skin remembered what it was like to be caressed by those hands, to feel his fingers curl around her.

“Why do you wear the gloves?”

His hand dropped, his head pulling back. Lilah regretted her words immediately, but he stopped her when she made to apologize.

“You know I’ve killed people,” he said plainly, “My queen, she made me do things that I couldn’t say no to. At first, I thought I was doing the right thing. I believed in it. In the end, I think I did it because I enjoyed it.” He looked down at his hands, “I guess I felt like if I didn’t touch them, if I didn’t feel it as I killed them, I could put distance between what I am and what I was made to do.”

Lilah was quiet a long time. He wouldn’t look at her. She could see the shame on his face, in the slump of his shoulders. She made a decision.

With deliberate slowness, she picked up his hand, saying, “I think we need to make new memories with these hands, then.”

Checking to make sure he was okay with it, Lilah very carefully pulled the glove off. His hand was a nice, normal hand. No scars, neatly trimmed nails, a wide palm with surprisingly fine boned fingers. Watching his face, she lifted it and placed it on her cheek, the warmth seeping in immediately. Lilah held it there, letting him feel.

He swallowed audibly, thumb swiping over her cheekbone. The touch was soft, delicate, testing. With just as deliberate a pace, Lilah pulled the glove off the other hand, placing it on the opposite cheek. He was breathing hard, eyes unfocused, plush lips parted. She could see the way his pupils were dilating, taking over the iris and bleeding a little into the white.

Lilah didn’t know why she did it, but instinct had her moving closer, swinging a leg over his hips and pushing him into the back of the couch. He kept his grip on her cheeks, letting her settle into his lap. Lilah dropped her forehead onto his, eyes half lidded. His body was fire hot beneath her, and she could tell that he was itching to move, yet he remained docile.

Letting the moment expand between them, Lilah touched her nose to his, bumping it affectionately. He smiled, his hands pushing into her hair.

“See?” she prompted gently, “New memories.”

He nodded even as he lifted up to kiss her, his hands holding her steady as he slipped his tongue inside for a taste. Lilah ran her hands down his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he kissed her nearly senseless.  The scent of him, the way his arms wrapped around her middle and held her tight, the taste, it all mixed together in a way that made her lightheaded.

Brasa jerked back, pulling away even further when Lilah made to follow him. She panted, blinking as she took in the black of his eyes, the fangs that had descended. He hadn’t nicked her, she couldn’t taste blood, but she did notice a strange tingling on her lips, over her tongue.

“What?”

He ran his tongue over his lips, “I can’t kiss you like this.”

Her brows furrowed, “Because of your teeth?”

Mouth twitching, he shook his head, “Because of the venom.”

She drew in a breath, “I have no idea what to do with that information.”

He touched her mouth ever so gently, “Kissing you is arousing, Lilah.”

“Uh huh,” she said, nipping at the pad of his forefinger, “That’s kind of the point.”

Hand dropping, Brasa searched for words, “The muscle that controls the venom is reflexive, I can’t control it. Kissing you… like this...you’re very likely to ingest the venom.”

“And,” Lilah prompted, following his line of thought, “You think I’ll suffer from some of the effects.”

“Yes.”

They were going to have to get past this, sooner or later. Lilah voted for sooner.

Settling further into his embrace, Lilah cupped his jaw, leaning into his space, “Are you likely to be aroused any time we kiss for more than a moment?”

Eyes bright, he nodded, “Very likely, I think.”

“Then,” she reasoned in an even tone, “You’re going to settle for quick little kisses for the rest of our relationship?”

To give him an example to go by, Lilah dropped down and pressed a soft, but fleeting kiss to his mouth.  He tried to lean up to get at her again, but she pushed him down, surprised by how willingly he submitted to the motion.

“I mean,” she continued, giving him another quick kiss, “If that’s what you want,” she kissed him harder, but just as quick, “I can try to accommodate you.”

He looked so torn, sitting underneath her weight, hands rubbing at her hips, pulling her into the hard planes of his body. Lilah might have had mercy on him if she thought he would get over his hesitation on his own. Deliberately, she gathered all the bravado she had in her body, using it to do what might normally make her feel too vulnerable.

“You know what that means, though, right?” she breathed, her mouth barely brushing against his, “No deep kisses, no sliding my tongue against yours,” she carded her hands back into his hair, pulling gently and reveling in the little contented moan he made. Then, she went in for the kill, “And definitely no biting.”

Brasa flinched, and she knew she had him. His grip on her hips tightened to near pain, his body rigid. Biting was so deeply ingrained in his kind, a need so deeply held, that to deny it was unthinkable. Lilah knew this, and she was definitely above using it.

She released her hold on his hair, palms on either cheek, “Do you want that?”

“No,” he rasped, a low growl building in his chest.

Smiling, she asked, “Then, what are we going to do about it?”

He looked at a loss, “I don’t know.”

Lilah thought for a moment, half a plan already formed, “You said I could ingest the venom and feel its effects. Is that better than a bite?”

Hesitation, then a curt nod.

“Okay then,” she said lightly, “How about we start with that? We can work up to a bite when you feel more comfortable.”

Lilah had no idea when she’d become so relaxed about him kissing her, biting her, and all the things that went along with that act. What she did know was she wasn’t going to sit stagnant, waffling about the rightness of it. Lilah wanted more kisses, and that was enough for her.

When she moved to kiss him, he pulled back a little, shifting to the side. Lilah, off balance, fell to the cushions. He crawled over her, hips settling between her thighs, though he held most of his weight on his arms. She laughed softly, letting her body relax into the couch.

“Just a little,” he urged, expression eager, “To start. To see how you do with it.”

Willing to let him experiment, Lilah nodded, chin tilting up with the gentle pressure his his hand.

“Open,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers.

Lilah’s lips parted, her eyes falling closed. She felt his jaw flex, felt little drops fall onto her tongue. They were hot, like the rest of him, rolling over her taste buds to burn down the back of her throat. She swallowed reflexively, taking whatever he was willing to give her in that moment.

When he lifted a little, Lilah opened her eyes to see him searching her face. She didn’t quite get why he was so nervous—he’d told her that the venom wasn’t harmful, that the effects were pleasing. Still, she was charmed by the concern.

And then the tingles started. Over the length of her tongue, her lips, the inside of her cheeks, down her neck and into the pit of her belly. Little tingles everywhere, as if she were covered in little tickling bubbles. Lilah huffed out a breath, grinning.

“Good?”

She nodded, “Very good.”

Though clearly pleased, his face was serious, his gaze looking her over and clocking every little movement.

She said his name to capture his full attention, “This is nice.”

His mouth kicked up on one side, “Wait until it peaks.”

“Peaks?”

Brasa hummed a little, pushing hair away from her face, his touch light. A moment later and she knew what he meant. The pleasant tickle turned into a searing burn of pleasure, her muscles going lax and nerves firing sporadically. She let out a startled yelp, her hands coming up to dig into his broad shoulders.

“Hush, querida,” he murmured, hands running along her sides.

As quick as it rose, so did the feeling subside. Lilah was left sucking in air as she gained control of her limbs again. She wiped sweat from her forehead, her hand trembling.

Staring up into his carefully guarded eyes, Lilah gave him a soft smile, “That’s a good start, I think.”

[criminally--reid]

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :| 

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader 

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines,  but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development 

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day. 

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance. 

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in. 

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something. 

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation. 

"I take it you remember me?" 

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough. 

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me." 

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you. 

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books. 

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?" 

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?" 

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter. 

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper. 

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-" 

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.  

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding." 

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly. 

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them." 

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?" 

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer." 

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too. 

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years." 

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?" 

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off. 

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?" 

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you." 

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-" 

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too. 

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something." 

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink. 

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker. 

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something." 

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?" 

"Café Negra-" 

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?" 

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?" 

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?" 

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop. 

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away. 

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same. 

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished. 

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways. 

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his. 

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end. 

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact. 

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper. 

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears. 

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.” 

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?” 

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax. 

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction. 

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?” 

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat. 

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?” 

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.  

[ubemango]

commission 1: soft and silly dad!seokjin

this was for his bday hehe!!!!!! Thank you to anon for your help+request :)

“How long have we had that table?”

You pause with your drying, bowl cold from Seokjin's rinsing. The oakwood isn't as scrubbed clean as you'd hoped but Seoyoon isn't as meticulous with a dish rag as you like to be. "I don't know. Eight years?"

"Lasted a long time," he says. "Ikea stuff is nice. We got our bed there too right?"

"Yeah."

"And we've been pretty rough with that bed."

Seokjin feigns concentration with soapy hands on the pile of dishes to hide from your glowering. At the very least he saved the joke for when the kids have left the dining room. "Your point?"

"Just thinking about the—durability of our household items."

"Very introspective of you."

"I try," Seokjin sighs. You hear the tumble of building blocks just beyond the door frame, the squeal of a frustrated toddler and her little brother incapable of keeping the tower upright. At least that's what Seoyoon had complained about earlier; who knows what Junsu's been up to with his newfound 6-month-old motor skills. "Should I check on them?"

You shake your head. "Nah. Seoyoon's old enough to scream for us if she needs the help."

"Maybe Junsu's knocked over."

"He knows how to sit up."

"But those cheeks. Weighs him down so much he'll be hunched over at the back before I hit fifty."

His shoulders rumble with laughter he wants you to join in on, but you just elbow him out of the way to reach the shelves. "You think you're funny making fun of your own son."

"Nothing wrong with big cheeks," Seokjin clarifies. He tosses the sponge into place, rinses the rest of the plates. Then he slaps your ass with a still-wet hand. "Like these ones right here."

"I will kill you."

"You won't."

"You bought those fancy knives to cook, I use them to kill you." They stay slotted in the wooden holder, just an arms-reach away. You'd threaten him more if all your effort wasn't going into tippy toeing the cups into the highest shelf.

"You won't," he laughs again. "Babe you've been reaching to put that glass up there for a billion years, I'll do it."

"I can reach it."

Seokjin squeaks the water off. You can feel him watching your struggle, the squeak of his drying rag interfering with your quiet attempts to get the glass standing. He doesn't say anything when he walks over to the other side to stack the plates away. Not until he's right up against your back, bumping your hand away with his own to place the glass away for you. "Now what kind of husband would I be if I let my wife struggle like that."

"You think this gets you points." Your retort doesn't stand a chance against the warmth of his mouth on your neck. In the blanket of dark evening and dimmed kitchen lights, you melt. "Honey..."

He squeezes around your stomach. "C'mon. I call putting Seoyoon to bed."

"Whoever's done first gets the wine out after," you barter. Seokjin leaves one more kiss of agreement before you both go out to corral the kids, one of whom is, in fact, sprawled on his back because of those goddamn cheeks.

"Oh my baby," you coo, grabbing Junsu by his armpits. "Seoyoon, go with daddy to brush teeth okay?"

"M'kay. Can I ki-iss Junsu bye night?"

You crouch in the heap of multi-coloured building blocks, Seoyoon hobbling over for her obligatory kiss good night. Junsu's hair isn't as thick as his sister's but she ruffles through it like it is. "Ni' night!"

Seokjin grabs her hand, gaze soft. "See you in twenty?"

"I want the Currant tonight," you challenge, and you hear Seoyoon question mommy's choice in wine with a small what's coo-want? as her dad whisks her away up the stairs. Junsu stirs in your embrace, mumbling low noises as you follow. "You'll shower tomorrow bubba, I see your eyes closing already."

It doesn't take long for Junsu to go down. He feeds fast, and you realize it's because he'd pooped dinner out during playtime. Made for a thorough clean-up and a giggling Junsu because wet wipes make him feel happy. 

His full hamper of laundry remains untouched. You'd promised yourself you'd do it tonight for the sake of a cheaper water bill but the dryer is too loud for Seoyoon to sleep to. The contemplation of failed household duties can wait, though; you've got red wine to indulge in, a husband to complain to if he’s in the mood.

The building blocks are stowed away in the box of toys by the time you come downstairs. Seokjin's just about done pouring wine in a second glass when you settle in the couch, bones aching with the phantom pains of a long work day. Netflix stays idle on your TV screen. He hands you a glass, and you both take a quiet sip.

"Seoyoon really likes that book about spiders." Seokjin rests a lazy arm on the back of the sofa. It's an unspoken agreement as you sidle right into his side. "Did your mom get that for her?"

"I think so." 

"She likes to read like she knows how to read."

"Big brain. Gets it--"

"--From me," Seokjin says at the same time. He heeds to the pinch in his ribs with a yelp. "You may have a big forehead but who has the bigger brain cells?"

"You don't have to be rude!" You snort. He won't listen to the command, you know he won't. But he nods because it's what a nice husband does, and a nice husband also probably wants to get in your pants but he won't say it outright. Not at this hour. Half-asleep with the blur of a tipsy beginning and the paranoia of two slumbering children a floor above. 

"You don't have a big forehead," he admits to silence. You're both too lazy to reach for the remote on the side table. It's sweeter, the mindless atmosphere you soften under. Without all the static nonsense of movies you won’t pay attention to because the baby monitor sits as priority on the coffee table. "But even if you did it's not a bad thing."

"Stop talking about my forehead."

"Yes ma'am." 

The wine is slick along your throat. Seokjin doesn’t complain when you burrow deeper in his shoulder. “A year older, huh.”

“Still as sexy as ever,” he adds. You’re too tired to snark back. He’s not lying anyway. “If you still feel bad about not throwing a party, I’m telling you again: it’s okay.”

“But—“

“Honey, look how tired you are.”

It’s almost funny because you didn’t even notice your eyes had closed. “You know I would’ve been happy to host something.”

“Yeah. And I’m just as happy making dinner and washing dishes with you and reading to Seoyoon about spiders,” Seokjin says. 

You want to spite your boss for making you work overtime on your husband’s birthday. But coming home to your family is still as untouched a feeling as ever, and Seokjin gave you the gentlest smile and Seoyoon squealed into your tummy in her hug, and Junsu—well, Junsu was napping. All your worlds tucked into the walls of your small home. Everything’s alright when you feel them near.

“Are you happy?” You ask.

“Always.” Seokjin takes your glass by the stem, sets them beside the static of Junsu’s snoring. “Lie down with me.”

His chest is warm against your ear. “Sometimes I forget you’re my husband.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Like you married me,” you clarify. “I don’t know. Just—coming home today was really nice.”

“I was thinking about that today, actually.”

“Hm.”

“I was born. And then I met you. And now we have our own kids to take care of.” Seokjin sighs. “Crazy how our lives pan out, huh.”

“Right,” you agree. 

“I’m thankful for you. And Seoyoon and Junsu. And that our furniture holds up, and we have a house to live in.”

“Christ. That wine made us sappy.”

“You started it,” he argues. In the corner of your eye, Junsu stirs his neck to the side. You linger in your red-tinged breaths combined. “It was a good birthday.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I mean you rode me first thing in the morning—you know you have the best hips on this Earth?”

You burn. With pride mostly, but you steal a bite to his jaw for an angry effect. “You’re welcome.”

“I love you,” Seokjin kisses into your hair. “Even though you work too hard.”

You won’t disagree. It’s hard to come up with a coherent response, too focused on his lungs swelling with yours. Twined in his warmth like you both wanted today. He starts again with a funny story about Junsu and falling over, and you don’t say anything when he grabs your hand to fiddle with your wedding ring. 

[allie1804-fan]

The Middle of the Road

Chapter 2

Warnings: Explicit content

Chapter 1

Hannah slept on until 8.30 before she joined the boys downstairs. She found them in the library where Keanu was stacking books on the shelves from one of the packing boxes. Jonathan was lying on his front on the floor, pushing a toy motorbike around and trying to make engine noises. She gave Keanu a morning kiss and settled down in an arm chair to feed Hannah again.

“Thanks for getting up with Johnny sweetheart, I thought you might have meetings again today. That extra hour and a half was a real bonus!”

“No worries hun, and I’m all yours today”

Keanu could see Emily’s face visibly relax.

“They’re a handful on your own right?”

“Yeah” she sighed. “I can pretty much keep them safe and fed but beyond that, I don’t know ………”

“Come on Johnny is happy too, not just fed and watered. You’re wonderful with him and Hannah has all her needs met, you’re too hard on yourself”

“Thanks hun” she replied, trying her best to mask her feelings of inadequacy and frustration which had been building more and more in the last few days. He saw through it easily though.

“Let’s talk later OK? When these two munchkins are napping or in bed. I want you to be happy and I can see you’re not”

“Don’t hate me for it, I know I’ve got so much to be grateful for”

Keanu quickly stopped what he was doing and came to her side, crouching down by her chair.

“Now you listen to me, I could never hate you and it doesn’t matter how much anyone has to be grateful for, life can still be tough – we have two kids under 2  -  it’s no picnic!”

She was able to muster a smile then.

“OK, thanks hun. Let’s talk later then. In the meantime, you’re going to be my slave for the day. My designated children’s entertainer and box unpacker!’

“Yes maam”

The day passed quickly and they managed to achieve quite a bit of setting the new house to rights though Emily couldn’t help the sense of foreboding she felt about the conversation Keanu had said they should have later. He was a great listener and always non judgemental when she’d shared work or friendship worries or even when she’d had a tough time being a good friend to her bestie Chloe when Chloe was pregnant and Emily and her Keanu were struggling to conceive, but these worries and feelings felt so personal and wrapped up between the two of them and how they should navigate being parents and partners who were parents, she wasn’t sure she could honestly share them. And she knew he would know if she was holding back – he was too intuitive to miss it.

That evening after they’d got Johnny to bed, Keanu made them a quick pasta dinner which Emily ate one handed as she fed Hannah.

“I think she’s going through a growth spurt, you remember like Johnny did around this time and he was feeding non-stop in the evenings”

“Yup, do we have enough of your milk frozen for me to feed her tomorrow night? We should try to stop her feeding herself to sleep on you like Johnny did or you’ll never get a break”

“Good thinking” Emily smiled ruefully.

“And on that note shall we talk about what’s getting you down now, while she feeds?”

“I guess” she said somewhat reluctantly.

“Don’t you want to tell me?”

Emily took a deep breath. “Yes ……….and no!”

Keanu quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything just yet, leaving the silence for her to fill.

“It’s all kind of muddled”

“Listen, you can tell me, you know you can, whatever it is. We promised to always do our best to be honest remember, after all that bottling up we both did before” he said quietly, alluding to the times they’d struggled with their fears about the pregnancy when she was carrying Johnny.

Emily sighed in defeat, it was time to share, however hard it was to voice her worries.

“I just, I just don’t feel like me anymore, I know, I know  - things have changed, I’m a mum of two babies now but, it’s like that’s all I am. Not a writer anymore, not your lover, just their mum and I’m scared no-one is ever going to remember I’m a writer, I’m scared I won’t be able to do it any more even if anyone asked me and I’m scared I’ll never feel sexual again”

“Oh baby, you and we, just need time I think. They won’t be this needy forever and you’re a brilliant writer. No-one’s going to forget that.”

“How do you know? I’ve not written anything for 6 months. I don’t think I have enough good will or good work in my inventory to be remembered for much longer”

“Well I politely, but firmly disagree”  

Emily huffed in frustration.

“That’s lovely of you to say but, I don’t know how unbiased an opinion that is! And the stupid thing is I want to write and yet I don’t because I want to be a good mom to our kids and it kind of feels like that means not handing them over to some stranger or nursery, you know, just so I can concentrate on writing.

“hey, hey, remember me, their Dad…”

“Yes but you have work too right ….”

“not  on a film that would take me away or take up full days and, not to be too big headed,  but I think I can dictate when projects happen a bit more nowadays. I don’t have to start anything until the kids are a little older do I?”

“No I guess not, but are you OK with that? I mean what if something amazing came up that has to start before we’re really ready?”

“Then, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, right? We always said having kids would mean slowing down a tad didn’t we”

“Right” Emily nodded, smiling a little now although she also felt like she’d shown up as being a bit silly, making mountains out of molehills. She looked down at Hannah who had now let go of her nipple and was sleeping in her arms. Keanu looked pointedly at her breast.

“and about that not feeling sexual anymore……..”

Emily giggled.

“Am I coming on a bit strong for you, sitting here with my tits out?”

“Mmm, come on let’s get her in her crib and I’ll be happy to show you  that I still find you sexy!”

Emily walked upstairs carefully and settled Hannah in her crib before heading to the master bathroom to clean her teeth before joining Keanu in the bedroom. He was sitting up in bed, bare-chested and with the duvet barely covering his mid section.

“So how shall I prove to you that I find you endlessly sexy?” he asked grinning.

“How about you start here” she said, pointing to her lips “and then you have permission to go straight to 5th base” (she indicated her crotch) “and skip 2nd base altogether” (she pointed to her breasts) “as they are in danger of leaking! In short let’s go for effective parental bonking to get us to sleep base as fast as we can!”

Message received Keanu laughed – though in truth he missed the long sessions, now a distant memory, that they would have before babies came along, when he’d bring her to multiple orgasms with hands and mouth before fucking her hard and reaching his own climax. Afterwards they would lie together stroking each other’s skin softly, drinking each other in. But needs must, and tiredness, especially Emily’s (as she was the one doing the night feeds),  or the kids waking up would usually dictate a wham bam thank you mam approach to their love making. He longed for the day when he could really show her how sexy she was to him.

They kissed for a while until Emily’s moans suggested to him that she might be ready and he reached down to her wet folds. He groaned as he felt the slickness and crawled on top of her, quickly lining up his cock with her entrance. Emily had a coil fitted now so there was no need to stop for a condom. Emily groaned as he entered her. It had been at least a week and he was extra thick and very hard as a result of the wait, rubbing against her g-spot with each thrust. He brought her to orgasm with sultry ease and the pulsing of her vagina around him led him to quickly reach his peak also. He slipped out of her and rolled on his back, grabbing her hand and  lifting it to his mouth to kiss it.

“love you”

“you too” she murmured sleepily, rolling to her side and letting sleep take  her.

 Chapter 3

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Birds ~ Stan Uris (Part 6)(final)

A/n: Yes we did finally get here haha! Here's the conclusion :) Sorry it took me so long! I really am the worst oof

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 4100+

I wanna watch from somewhere undisturbing- quiet, calm, still. Sit right here and gaze at the unknown...

It had been an accident. Everything seemed to be these days.

The other Loser had kept Y/n and Stan up way past either of their bed times. Maybe you think that's silly but they were the kind of people that needed certain amount of hours of sleep to be functional, and it was far, FAR too late to be awake. The others had separated, leaving Y/n and Stan alone because they were being especially touchy tonight. With their sleepiness clouding their brains, they didn't have the usual things stopping them. 

Hesitance. Self doubt. Shyness. Awkwardness. Even now, as they walked, they were hand-in-hand, fingers twitching and brushing as they interlaced them to remind themself and the other that they were there. Their voices were low and their words sweet and affectionate as they lightly teased and flirted - something they never did in words like now. Stan had walked home on autopilot and Y/n had followed him without thinking. So now they stood in front of Stan's house at the ripe hour of three a.m., hand in hand and blushing and grinning and giggling and trying to stay quiet. 

Y/n sighed, their free hand raising to brush Stan's cheek. "I guess this is where I go."

"You don't have to," Stan blurted. "It's really late and something bad might happen if you're alone. Maybe- maybe stay here for the night?" All he was thinking was he didn't want them to go. They were warm and soft and adorable and glowing with sleepiness.

Y/n was thinking along the same lines. Stan's whole body was relaxed, eyelids nearly closed he was so exhausted. His smile was enchanting and contagious and the thought of turning him down and having it go away was unacceptable. "Okay," they whispered without really thinking about it or making the decision to. Not that they wanted to go, but a part of their brain was still sensible and knew this was a bad idea- if for no other reason than their parents would be pissed tomorrow if they never came home tonight. Despite knowing that, Y/n still accepted and didn't even think about turning back when Stan took their hand and began pulling them after him into the house, into his room, and towards the bed. "Are you wearing jeans and a polo shirt to bed?" Y/n asked, hesitating on getting into bed.

Stan thought for a second. "No," he more hummed than spoke, sighing as he said the word. "And you shouldn't have to sleep in your clothes either. Here, I'll give you some of my pajamas. Is that okay?" Y/n nodded, smiling. Stan pulled out some pajama pants and his most comfortable t-shirt and handed them to Y/n before moving into the bathroom. "Be right back."

Y/n began to change, shrugging before deciding that the best time to change would be here and now. They reached behind, hand finding their collar before pulling, tilting their head forward so the shirt came off smoothly. Next was the pants. As they put them on and then began to put on the shirt as well, Stan came out with clothes in his hands, topless. Both froze upon seeing the other not quite as dressed as they were used to being and seeing each other. Y/n cleared their throat, pulling the shirt the rest of the way down and stopping down to pick up their clothes. "Where do you want me to put these?"

Stan snapped out of it at the sound of their voice, moving to a basket in a corner to grab a plastic grocery sack from it. Y/n then noticed that Stan's room was perfectly clean and organized. Well, mostly. The closet was like some rich middle aged single man's from some corny movie; the floor bare and cleaned. Stan walked with socks, shoes tucked neatly in a corner on the floor by the door. The bed was made, the books all in a place on the shelves so that it looked like a one-shelf library. However, despite all the otherwise cleanliness and organization, there was a single writing desk in the corner that was covered in all kinds of writing utensils - pens, pencils, crayons, highlighters; the works - and books and papers. Some books were open, some were stacked willy-nilly in piled ready to tip over. Some books even had oddly bent papers shoved into them, out of line with the binding as if they'd been hastily shoved in as a bookmark maybe, before the book was closed, leaving the paper only to bend were it passed over the middle inside binding. Some papers looked old; some new. Some were single pieces; some were stapled or held together with a binder pin. The desk was all kinds of messy, looking wild and out of place and odd in the otherwise spotless room. Like seeing a wild, overgrown jungle in full swing with the insane climate and dangerous wild life and everything- in the middle of a suburb that, outside of the jungle, was casual weather and normal people all wearing the same generic clothes and working the same generic job.

Stan noticed where Y/n was staring and turned a deep shade of almost-purple red, dropping the bag at Y/n's feet to trip over himself as he tried to cover the mess on his desk. Without thinking, Y/n dropped their clothes on top of the bag, still on the floor, and moved to catch his hands. "I- I'm sorry about the mess. It makes sense to me but it bothers me too, I just don't really have a place for all of this and if I misplace anything because I'm used to it being in this specific place on my desk I might actually go crazy- like, it's this weird thing where everything has a place and these things kind of have made their own place before I could find them a proper, actual space and, God, I'm so sorry-"

It was the sound of the light giggle, full of adoration, that caused Stan to grow quiet. Y/n moved over to him, their hand rising to gently caress his face. He was suddenly warm, melting into the touch and smiling, his gaze turning super dreamy and lovey as he looked at Y/n. "It's okay," they whispered. "I think it makes me feel less like I'm going to break something if I touch anything if there's at least a little mess. Let's get into bed, yeah? It's late."

Stan nodded, suddenly completely at ease for some reason. He climbed under his covers, Y/n following after him. They lay there a second, shoulders an inch apart so they weren't touching, before Stan snapped. He turned to face his crush. "Can I... hold you? Like, cuddle?" He had such a hopeful look in his eyes, but that wasn't what got Y/n to say yes. They wanted it as much as he did. Soon Stan was pulling them close, their back to his chest and his arms wrapping around them. Y/n rose their hands so their and Stan's fingers interlaced. Their legs tangled just a bit to bring them closer and make the situation even more comfortable. "Good night," Stan whispered after a second.

A contented sigh came from Y/n before they whispered, "'Night, Stan the Man." They were asleep before either could think any further about it.

The next morning, waking up next to each other was amazing. Stan was awake first, his arms tightening around Y/n as his mind slowly recalled the night before. Y/n pressed closer against him and he closed his eyes, trying to keep the moment for a few seconds before his anxiety got the best of him. Maybe he had nodded off again, or had just not been awake enough to properly register the passage of time, because it seemed only a second that he had blocked out the world, but when he opened his eyes again, it was much brighter and Y/n was facing him now, where they’d had their back to him before as he held them close and against him.

As if sensing Stan's being awake this time around, Y/n opened their eyes. Upon seeing Stan looking back, they smiled. Stan's whole body grew a degree warmer, buzzing a little like he had just drunk a lot of caffeine. "Good morning," Stan whispered. The moment was almost reverent. He was scared of disturbing it by talking too loudly.

Y/n seemed to agree. "Good morning," they whispered back just as softly. There was a while where they just sleepily smiled at each other and said nothing before Y/n broke the comfortable silence to speak again. "I like waking up next to you."

Stan was sure he was blushing. "I like it too. Especially because it means I can..." he deliberated on maybe not saying what he was thinking a second before adding, "Hold you. When we sleep. You're warm."

Y/n's grin was enough to wipe all the doubt from Stan's mind. "I like your morning voice."

Now Stan was DEFINITELY blushing. "I like your bed head," he shot back. The two still spoke just as softly as they'd begun.

Suddenly Y/n got much more serious. Not quite shier, but more genuine. "I like you."

Without any hesitation, Stan replied. "I like you too."

Y/n frowned, which isn't what Stan was expecting them to do. "No, Stan." They sighed. "I LIKE like you. I think about holding your hand and kissing you and wonder what it would be like for you to be my boyfriend. Like, romance like you."

Stan's smile had wavered before but now it returned back brilliantly. It was Y/n's turn to be shocked. "I know. Me too." He paused, letting Y/n process that. Right when they were about to say something, he threw them off yet again. "You know, my dad says that there's a difference between like and love. You can love someone but not like them, because you have loyalty and long term care even if you sometimes don't want to be around them." Another, shorter pause. "I like you." He smiled wider, his voice growing even softer as if what he said next was a secret for just them. "I also love you." In a way, it WAS a secret. But he was tired of it being a secret that he kept from Y/n.

The longest pause yet stretched as Y/n processed that. Stan waited patiently. Y/n didn't lean away or push Stan away or seem to be upset on any level. Stan knew that Y/n at least liked him. Wanted to date him. There wasn't anything for him to worry about, really. Or maybe he was still tired. Maybe he'd think about this later and wonder what had possessed him to be so reckless. 

He wouldn't regret it, though. He didn't know how he knew, but he did indeed know.

And he was right.

Y/n finalized their thoughts with a nod, snuggling even closer. "May I kiss you?" Stan mirrored the nod they had done and the two teens moved their faces closer, pressing their lips together softly. Stan didn't realize how tense Y/n was until they melted into him, body relaxing as the tightness caused by anxiety slipped away. Worry he, for some reason, just wasn't feeling. When they parted, Y/n stabilized their breathing before whispering, "I love you too."

For a moment, time stopped. They didn't age. Nothing mattered. There was no past or future- only now. Them. Here. Together. And it always would be them, here, now, like this. And it was perfect.

I don't wanna fly in the sky, I just wanna be alone. It's not a big deal, or anything... I just wanna be alone.

The little girl squirmed until the adult set her down. The second she was able, she shot off like a rocket and began scrambling onto the playground. The man next to the adult who had originally been holding the small child sighed, shoulders sagging. "I guess I was wrong. She doesn't like it after all. She's too young."

The other adult didn't agree though, watching the small girl climb and shoot right past slides and poles and everything else she usually so adored. Until now she'd never been able to deny the pull of them, but now they seemed to mean nothing as she climbed the jungle gym with a purpose that neither adult could quite pin point the source of. Until, that is, she reached the very top. She looked at the tree the man had been pointing to only a few moments before, pulling her binoculars from resting around her neck up to her eyes. The adult that had been holding her before laughed. "Ah, wrong after all! She just wanted to get higher up to see better!"

The man was glowing. "I'm right again!" He turned his gaze to his spouse. "Will you ever get tired of being wrong about matters like this? The pull of birds is strong- to those of any age!"

"Oh, heaven, Stan." The other person's head tilted back as they laughed. The light made their skin glow and the happiness on their face reminded Stan of how wonderfully attractive his partner was. "Must you always remind me when you're right?"

Stan nodded firmly, his pride lessening as his fondness overpowered his smugness. "If I don't, who will?" Y/n hummed, eyes returning to the child as if they were actually considering it. Stan knew better though, not expecting another word for a while. The conversation had ended and a comfortable, familiar silence fell between them. Y/n leaned close, resting their head on Stan's shoulder. His arm found its way around Y/n's waist, his cheek resting on top of their head.

When the small girl returned, this time it was to Stan. She yawned and Y/n chuckled. "Think it's time for bed?" They asked Stan. He simply nodded, as Y/n had already stood and gathered things so they could go.

By the time they got home, the girl was asleep. It was Y/n who unbuckled her as Stan went inside to make sure the house was quiet and the path was cleared to allow Y/n to walk without tripping over anything they wouldn't see around the girl in their arms. As Y/n passed the living room they nodded at an enthusiastic Bill who was sitting next to Mike. Across from the two men were Ben and Richie, with Eddie leanings against the back of Mike and Bill's couch and Beverly perched on the arm of Ben's seat. Ben had a hand over Richie's mouth and no one was moving.

When Y/n was gone and they were all sure the sleeping child wouldn't wake if they were quiet enough, Ben lowered his hand. Stan crosses his arms, his glare deep even if it was tainted by amusement. "What are you all doing here? We gave you an extra key for emergencies only."

With a sheepish smile, Mike held up a chip bag that Stan hadn't noticed at first. "It WAS an emergency," Eddie piped up, as quiet as Stan.

"We needed munchies man!" Richie input. Ben nudged him- he hadn't lowered his volume. He chuckled. "Sorry." This was quieter.

Before Stan had to pretend to be mad for too long, Y/n returned. "Are you guys just here for snacks again?"

Bill laughed, covering his mouth. "Actually, we're here to kidnap you two," Bev piped up. "Ever since Laila was brought into your little family, we haven't seen much of you guys."

"Actually, we haven't seen much of each other at all," Mike sighed. "When was the last time we were all in the same room together for an extended amount of time? Your guys' wedding? That was YEARS ago."

Y/n rubbed the back of their neck. "Well, we have a kid now Mikey. We can't just up and leave her alone."

Bev slid off the arm onto her feet, hands on her hips. "I called Kay. I told you guys about her right?" Stan and Y/n nodded. "Well, she said if we can convince you guys to come then she'd be more than willing to babysit Leila, as long as you're both okay with it."

Stan looked slowly, hopefully at Y/n. He tried not to give anything away. If Y/n was too tired or not up to it he didn't want to get too excited because then he wouldn't be able to hide his disappointment and then Y/n would feel guilty- or, even worse, would force themself to go. Y/n was grinning though. "Aw I'd love that! You know I've been dying to meet this special friend of yours for a while now. What did you have in mind?" At 'special friend' Y/n winked. Bev blushed.

Richie was next to stand up. "Remember when we used to go the Quarry?"

Y/n actually giggled. "You are too old to be jumping off that cliff!" they joked. Y/n and Richie had been teasing a lot about age recently, to make it seem like less of a problem. It was easier to ignore things when you simply just laughed at them.

Richie rolled his eyes. "I am NOT. We're bigger now; it's not as tall. And we can stay until the morning and wake with the sun rise!" He said this very dramatically, making the others feel a kind of childish excitement.

Stan rubbed his hand along his partner's back. "It took us hours to convince Mike and Eddie," Bill piped up. "Honestly you'd be the worst if you didn't come."

Y/n rolled their eyes. They were convinced the second Bev mentioned Kay babysitting, wiping Leila from their worries and opening the possibility to actually have some fun. Therefore it was unnecessary for Stan to lean close and whisper, "How romantic would that be? It would be like when we were kids. Except now I can take work off tomorrow and spend my time doing something much more fun than catching up on homework." COMPLETELY unnecessary, but TOTALLY welcome and encouraged.

Grinning, Y/n nodded. "You know, it sounds like a good idea."

No one else had heard, but there was an instant reaction from the others. Ben and Mike exchanged amused expressions as Richie yelled, "DAMN Stan the Man! GET SOOOOOOME!" on the top of his lungs, causing Eddie to throw his hand over the other man's mouth, hissing quietly to remind him of the sleeping child not too far away. Y/n and Stan got ready as they waited for Kay to show up. Here, Bev energetically introduced her girlfriend finally to the people who used to be her closest friends. Her family. Who had seemed to be far away of recent.

After that, it was time to go. On the ride there - Mike was driving, Bill in the passenger seat - everyone got caught up. Bev told about the divorce from her abusive ex husband and how Kay helped her get over him... leading Bev to fall in love with Kay. Mike and Ben were engaged, but they hadn't decided on when exactly the wedding would be quite yet. Richie and Eddie were thinking about adopting, since Richie was Y/n and Stan's number one go to babysitter and Leila's presents had them both baby hungry. Bill laughed as we poked at him for being the only one of us still single, eagerly updating us on his newest novel and how happy he was just... chilling, for now.

The time at the Quarry was just as fun and light hearted. Just like when they were kids. They stripped down to boxers and bras and jumped from the top. Richie and Y/n antagonized Eddie and Stan into a dunking match, nearly killing Ben in the process. Bill absolutely refused to do a chicken fight, causing everyone to tease at doing it the rest of the time, cracking up when he'd panic just a little without fail each time. They were shoving and screaming and cursing and Y/n and Richie were insulting each other so much that the others wondered for a second if one of them was actually mad. But no. They were just idiots. Nothing unusual.

For dinner they had a picnic, and then it was time to bundle up and dry off as they watched the sun set before making a small fire and starting up dessert. There was something unearthly about s'mores amongst friends when you were all laughing until you couldn't breathe and were acting like you were thirteen.

Ben stood up to begin telling ghost stories, only to be matched by Bill, who kept adding or giving input and making it even better. The two went back and forth before Bev and Y/n winked at each other, cutting in purely to top their fairly good story telling with ridiculous dramatics. This got Richie started, which then had Stan rolling his eyes as the chaos as Mike lost his mind laughing in the background.

After they calmed down from the 'storytelling' they all got in sleeping bags. Stan and Eddie had pushed for tents but in the end the others had won out- they wanted to sleep under the stars. ("With the bugs too?" Eddie had inputted, but he was a lot more chill with things like this than he had as a child so the others didn't worry about it too much.) One by one they began to fall asleep in the quiet chatting. The day took a toll on Ben first, Mike soon following as Ben's even breathing and heartbeat got to him. Next went Beverly and then Eddie.  Richie was mumbling but Bill shut him up and after a few seconds his speaking was replaced by soft snoring. It was kind of adorable that the loud Trashmouth had such a soft snore. Y/n was sure Stan had finally succumbed too, despite being determined as he lay on Y/n's chest, picking at grass.

Just as Y/n was dozing off, Bill spoke. "Anyone awake?"

"Me," Y/n hummed lightly.

Bill waited a few seconds, seeming to see if anyone else was too. No one else responded. "Y/n can I ask you some advice?"

"Of course Billiam. What's up?"

Bill snorted at the old nickname Richie had dug up again early that day, but soon turned serious again. "If you're in love with someone... well. What should you do?"

"Go for it," Y/n answered immediately. "It's so much better to have it off your chest and know the answer than waste time not being with them if they like you back, or wondering what could have been if you had spoken up. Eve if they reject you, at least you'll know."

Quiet again, for longer this time. "What if they're with someone else?" Y/n didn't respond to that for a second. "What if they're one of your best friends? And you may sort of also love the person they're with?"

Y/n smiled. "I think you should talk to both of them about it. Initiate it. Just establish that you have feelings for both of them and see how they react. I mean, you don't want to break them up right?"

"No," Bill answered immediately. Y/n imagined that his eyes were large, offended.

"I thought not. Make sure they know that. You can always move on - though dear lord that sounds so much easier than it is - but, I mean, what if's are the worst. That shit'll follow you forever."

Bill sighed. "Would you be down for a movie date with me if they reject me?"

"I'll bring the ice cream."

"I'll bring the tissue." This came from Stan, surprisingly Y/n and Bill both.

Y/n laughed. "See Bill? We've got your back."

Bill murmured a, "You have no idea how much of a relief that is."

Stan hummed in doubt. "Though, you should totally tell us who it is now. It's obviously not us, since we were your go to plan if you failed. So spill, Big Bill."

Y/n giggled. Stan smiled fondly. Bill watched them, his eyes falling slowly to Eddie and Richie. Y/n saw. They hummed knowingly and Bill looked away, blushing. "Yeah. Anyway. I'll let you know what happens."

After thinking a second, Y/n said, "I think we all had some crush or another on you at some point Bill. I'd be astonished if they didn't both jump on the idea of being the ones to win you in the end." They winked at Bill who blushed. Stan just agreed quietly, causing Y/n to laugh again. Stan and Y/n cuddled more into each other, falling asleep and leaving Bill to think.

Wherever the rest of their lives took them, they'd always find each other again. Just as they always did. No matter how long or what drama tore them apart, in the end: Once a Loser, always a Loser.

In the morning, birds woke them up. Stan was staring at them, a curious smile on his face. "Good morning," he whispered, and no one replied because they all knew he'd been greeting the birds. As they all packed up and headed out, back towards Stan and Y/n's, Stan leaned over to his partner, whispering, "You know this trip has me thinking. Maybe we should go on dates more often."

Y/n grinned. "Bird watching?"

"What else?" Stan shot back immediately, grinning.

Y/n had never been more grateful for the little, feather beings than they were now. Without them, where would they even be? Looking at Stan, they pushing possibilities out of their head. It didn't matter. They were here. What else could they ask for? What more could any of the Losers ask for?

-

Tag List: @campcampie @cedricisnotonfire (I can't seem to tag you but I'll send it to you!)

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.6]

Chapter:  Cosmic Rays

Summary:  Bucky has two days off and, he’s going to make the best of every second. 

Warnings:  All kinds of heartwarming fluff. I think we all need that after Endgame. 

A/N: This is my favorite chapter to date. It’s extra fluffy because my heart hurts (Thanks Marvel). Just keep in mind... slow burn. Send me love because i”m needy, okay?!  Plus all your comments make my day. BIG ULTRA HUGE thanks to my beautiful beta @lokissoul I love you 3000!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

For forty-eight hours Bucky doesn’t have to think about on-site drills, taking calls, Sam and Clint bickering. He doesn’t have to think about the damn station if he doesn’t want to and he has zero intentions of doing so. The next two days are going to be spent at home with his baby girl, and he can do… laundry. He glares at the mountain of dirty clothes sitting on the washing machine and the second pile laying in front of the dryer and several of Ori’s dresses and tulle skirts that have to be dry cleaned.

That is not how he wants to spend his day off.

Bucky pushes his chair out from the kitchen table ignoring the piles of dirty clothes that were now behind him. Can’t see it, none of it exists, right? He brings his cup of coffee up to his lips and freezes spotting the stack of dirty dishes from the night before and the batter covered waffle iron from this morning. Not to mention the oddly large number of cups they managed to dirty. How do two people use that many cups in only a few days?

 With a quick turn of the head, focusing his gaze on the living room in an attempt to escape the mess he’s greeted with puzzle pieces thrown about, Disney Pictionary cards tossed haphazardly, brightly colored pom poms and googly eyes spread out on the coffee table and his arch nemesis – glitter. It’s covering the couch, the rug, and coffee table. Bucky winces at the sight and sets his mug down, heading towards the pile of dirty clothes. They had to get out of this house today and the semi-clean joggers he’s wearing isn’t going to cut it in public.

Plucking one of the not so embarrassingly dirty pairs of jeans out of the pile on the floor he glances back at Ori coloring something with her glitter crayons. Her entire morning has been spent perfecting whatever picture she’s drawing, because Orion is a perfectionist. She gets easily frustrated when she can’t make things look or feel a certain way. If doesn’t know the answer to a question, tears are sure to follow pretty quickly. She simply doesn’t like to let Bucky, or anyone, down. 

As much as it worries Bucky, he can’t deny watching her color with her brow furrowed, eyes set in determination and her little tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth is adorable. As cute as she looks he needs to get out of this house before he ends up wasting the day on cleaning because that would be a tragedy. 

“Hey, Comet?” He shouts as he sniffs one of his discarded t-shirts and wrinkles his nose at the odor, tossing it back down onto the pile with a grunt.

“What daddy?”

“I was thinkin’, how about we go see Y/n at the bookstore today?”

Bucky hears something that sounds like a scream or a screech, maybe? He isn’t sure what happened, but he rushes back into the living room, sliding in on his sock-clad feet. The bright blue chair (teal chair as he’s been told several times) is laying on the ground and Ori is now sitting on the floor by the entryway, unharmed and slipping her shoes on.

She looks up at him and frowns in deep frustration. 

“Daddy!” She whines. “What are you doing? Get dressed. Y/n takes a break soon, and we can bring her a treat!”  

He blows a stuttering breath to cover the laugh he was failing to suppress. 

“Alright, ya little general. Give me ten minutes to change.” He looks down at the mess of glitter in front of him, puts his hands on his hips and looks back at Ori, “You think I can get Uncle Sammy to come over and clean up the house for me?”

“You’re not that cute daddy.”

-------

Bucky opted to take his car, which he rarely uses, thanks to the enormous toolbox he chose to bring with them. He isn’t the only one bringing gifts to Y/n’s shop today. Ori had her backpack full of drawing after drawing and every single one of her glitter crayons - all sixty-four were in her travel case stuffed into her bag. Because turquoise blue is way different from robin egg blue and she absolutely needs both. They park about a block away thanks to every other person that thought driving was a good idea today. Just a harsh reminder why Bucky never drives in the city. They stroll down the sidewalk, and Ori nervously tightens her grip on Bucky’s hand the closer they get to the shop.

“You okay, baby girl?” Bucky asks, looking down at her.

She shrugs looking down at the rainbow bow on top of her black tennis shoes. “What if she doesn’t like it?”

“I think she’s going to love anything you got her,” Bucky replied earnestly. “I know she’s going to like the picture you made her and I’m sure she’s gonna like the present you got her at the book fair.”

“I guess so…” Ori mumbles as they approach the star covered storefront. She looks up at the letters displaying the shop name and then to her dad, stepping behind him and holding his jeans in her small fist. 

“You go first.”

Bucky holds back a laugh for the second time today and brushes her curls out of her eyes to get a better look at her. She is the same shade of green Steve was when he asked Sam out for the first time. She’s really spending more time than she should with Uncle Stevie. Bucky holds the door open letting a large group of people shuffle out and giving Ori a second to calm down. They wander into the shop, Bucky pretends to drag his leg behind him as if Ori weighs a ton and his Oscar-worthy acting skills cause her to giggle despite her nerves.

The shop is fairly busy, but it probably has something to do with it being Friday and the sale Y/n has going on. The sign hanging in the front window reads something about getting fifty percent off a total purchase if you buy three or more books and clearly people are excited. Might not have been the best day for surprises. He’s never seen this many people in the shop before. It’s hard to determine where Y/n is thanks to the crowds that have taken over the shop. 

A few sweeps of his surroundings and he finds her sitting on her step ladder between two of the smaller bookcases that sat in front of the register. He stops for a few seconds, just to watch her and he can’t help but smile. She has a store full of customers, and what looks like several stacks of books she needs to put back on the shelves, and she is sitting on a stool with a book open on her lap reading. 

She’s reading in the midst of all this chaos. 

“Hey,” he calls softly. 

Y/n pulls her nose from her book and looks over the bookshelf to find Bucky standing on the other side, smiling fondly at her. A huge smile splits her face in two, and it makes his smile grow ten times brighter. She abandons whatever she was reading and slips it back on the shelf, giving Bucky her full attention.

“Hey, Mr. December,” She replies, snickering as she does.

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?” Bucky groans, loudly, and hangs his head in shameful defeat.

“Nope.”

She walks around the shelves, and her beaming smile quickly turns into a frown when she spots Ori nervously standing behind Bucky’s legs. Ori’s never been nervous around her before, and Y/n’s mind instantly starts to race.  Had she done something to upset her? Was Ori mad that Bucky has been texting her on and off? One quick glance at Bucky for encouragement and she goes right into fix it mode.

“Hey, Ori,” Y/n tries, gently, squatting down to her level. “What’s going on here? What is this sad face all about?”

Ori looks up at Bucky who smiles and gives her a wink urging her on. 

“I got you somethin’,” she mumbles into the thick material of her dad’s pant leg.

“Oh, my stars! You didn’t have to get me anything, but I’m so excited to see what it is!” Y/n chirps, a huge smile on her face as she settles on her knees, carefully letting her dark blue A-line skirt flare out to hide her legs. The smile on Y/n’s face gives the little girl a small edge of confidence, and she slowly makes her way out from behind Bucky’s legs.

“Is it a spaceship? You know how much I want to go to space.”

“No. I can’t fit a spaceship in my backpack,” The little girl says with a giggle as she unzips her bright blue backpack. Y/n watches taking note of the beauty and the beast, book club and space themed patches Bucky had stitched onto the front. 

“You’re right.” Y/n says, nodding her head in agreement. “How silly of me.”

Ori pulls out the drawing she made this morning and hands it over with a tiny gift bag. Y/n grins as she looks over the picture in her hands. There are four different color planets in the middle that glitter in the lights of the shop, and Ori had left her a message. She carefully reads the words in Ori’s handwriting, ‘You are my favorite planet. I like you very much.’

Y/n looks up at Ori from her kneeling position and practically glows in response. Her eyes never leave the little girl as her fingers work the bag open. “You are my favorite constellation, and I like you very much.”

The faint blush on Ori’s chubby cheeks makes Y/n grin wider, she pulls out a small white piece of cardboard and flips it over in her hand, and her heart leaps. She’s had boyfriends who put fewer thoughts into a gift. Her silence must have made Ori nervous because she could hear soft mumbles coming from Bucky’s side as his hand worked through her curls. “I thought – you like space stuff and, and you have that book you write in…” 

She looks up at Ori and smiles clutching the space-themed paper clips to her chest like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever been given, and it is. 

“The little astronaut is my favorite. Or maybe it’s Saturn with the little star. I can’t decide. I love them, and I adore you. Thank you so much, sweet girl.” Ori flings herself at Y/n and wraps her arms around her neck, Bucky watches the two of them in awe.

“You’re welcome,” Ori whispers quietly.

Y/n squeezes her tightly for a few long moments and kisses the side of her head. 

“Want to go pick out a book, and we can read together for a minute and then you can help me decide where to hang my picture?” 

Ori nods and gives her one last squeeze before she takes off towards her chair at the back of the store, where her secret pile of books is stacked behind it. There is a long pause before Y/n can use her legs, she slowly rises to her feet holding onto her picture and her gift with gentle firmness for fear of misplacing them. Not that she would ever let them out of her sight long enough to lose them.

“Thank you for that,” Bucky mumbles softly, aware that Ori is somewhere in the store and kids can hear everything when they want to. “She was really nervous you wouldn’t like it.”

“Bucky…” Y/n sighs and clears her throat of the emotion that was bubbling up. “I loved it. It’s the best and most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

There was such a sincerity in Y/n’s voice that he suddenly found himself angry at whoever thought she wasn’t worth the effort. He wants to tell her that she deserves more than that and tell her how thankful he is to have her in his life and his daughter’s life, but he can tell she is struggling to keep her tears at bay, so he doesn’t say tell her now.

“What’s with the tools?” Y/n asks, curiously, ready to change the subject. “Are they props for your next photo shoot?”

His eyes narrow playfully, allowing her to change the subject without missing a beat, and he nods to the toolbox at his feet. “You’re gonna feel real bad for makin’ fun of me when I tell you that I’m fixin’ your door and that busted up front window.”

Her smile slowly fades, and her expression turns serious again. 

“I–” She stumbles over her tongue trying to gather her thoughts. “You don’t have to do that Bucky. You have enough on your plate and, and I’m sure you could be fixing things back at your place.”

“And you’ve given Ori how many free books?” Bucky challenges. “How many times have you closed the shop to spend time with her? I know it’s more than the two nights I know about. Let me do this for you. Believe it or not, I’m pretty handy, and the crack in the window is driving me nuts.” He huffs, frustration ringing loud and clear, his hand brushing his hair back out of his face.

“All your cool air is flying right out that little crack. It’s a waste of money,” Bucky gripes, goodnaturedly but it’s clear it’s bothering him. 

“And you got any idea how unsafe that is?”

Y/n giggles and shakes her head waving her hand to the front of the shop giving him permission to whatever he wants to - she had a feeling he was going to do it regardless of her permission anyway. 

“Alright, get to fixing it I guess. Starlight?” She calls through the shop and Ori comes bouncing around from her chair with a beaming grin on her face. “Dads gonna fix the door wanna help me with inventory?”

Ori’s eyes light up, and she rushes off towards Y/n’s office where the cart full of books is kept and yells back, “Yes, yes, yes!!!

-------

The day flew by weirdly fast. Before Bucky knew what was happening the sun had started to set, and the crowd of people had come and gone. There were waves of people in and out all day. At bits during the day, the shop was so full Bucky had to stop working and just hold the door open for the crowds. Then there were random quiet periods when the shop was nearly empty, and he could hear Ori and Y/n giggling through the quiet.

Those moments were his favorite.  

Bucky sets his tools behind the counter and strolls back into Y/n’s office. It was near closing time, they were only waiting on one last customer to finish up her browsing, and Y/n had Ori on her lap at her desk while they looked through her planner, crayons spread all over her desk. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the door frame, watching them.

“All done for the day?” Y/n asks not looking up from whatever they were coloring together. She didn’t need to, Y/n felt Bucky the moment he stepped into the doorway.

“Yeah, it’s all fixed.”

Y/n looks up and pouts at his empty arms. “Where is Timmy?”

He scowls as he glances back into the shop and then again at Y/n, “Who the hell is Timmy?”

“Um, your toolbox. Timmy the toolbox,” she says quickly, a slight frustration in her voice as if he should have known that Timmy was clearly a name for a toolbox and that she obviously would have spent time thinking about a name for the metal box, to begin with.

“You named my toolbox?” He asks, curious amusement filling his voice. Shit, she is cute sometimes, Bucky can’t help but think.

“I think the real shocker here is the fact that you had not named him up to this point,” She counters with a hint of disapproval, and he really doesn’t like disappointing her. Bucky chuckles quietly at the glare she’s shooting at him and throws his hands up in surrender. 

“I didn’t realize I had hurt the feelings of an inanimate object. I’ll apologize to Timmy.”

“See that you do.” 

She smiles triumphantly and turns her attention back to Ori who’s giggling away in her lap.

“How about after I apologize to Timmy we grab dinner?” Bucky offers, and Y/n quickly adds on. “I’m buying though!”

“What?” Bucky’s brows shoot up, and he shakes his head. “No, you’re not. How many books did you put in Ori’s bag today?” Y/n opens her mouth and quickly shuts up, her lips pressing into a thin line as she narrows her eyes.

“That’s not the point.” She whines, it’s hard for her to accept all this help from him. If anyone deserves to catch a break, it’s Bucky. Certainly not her. 

“You worked all day fixing the front door and then the window and don’t think I didn’t notice you came in and checked all the shelves and did that spackle thingy to the window that was leaking by Ori’s chair.”

“First of all, didn’t use spackle. That wouldn’t work on a wood frame doll.  Second of all, my time barely covers the amount of money you’ve lost in books,” Bucky replies, eyes filled with perseverance and his arms crossed back over his chest. He isn’t going to give in, and they both know it.

“Fine.” Y/n relents doing everything she can to hide her smile. She looks up just in time to see her last customer waiting at the register, so she hops up taking Ori with her. “You can buy dinner, but I get to pick where we eat, and I’m ordering two kinds of desserts.”

Bucky grins as he watches her skip back to the front of the shop Ori following right behind her matching her skip for skip. He chuckles quietly to himself and collapses into Y/n’s desk chair. The picture Ori drew was pinned up on the wall next to her desk, and Y/n had her planner out on the desk paper clips Ori had bought her at the book fair already in use. Y/n even let Ori add another movie night to next week’s agenda with bright purple glitter crayon.

“What did we do to deserve you?” He whispers softly.

The grin on his face slowly starts to fade, and his chest tightens when he sees what Y/n has scribbled onto Saturday night.

Dinner with Tony Stark. Masa @ 7pm

It hits him like a speeding truck knocking the breath right out of him. She has a date with Tony Stark. Bucky didn’t think Nat was really going to set them up.  He hastily looks back up at Y/n and Ori they are helping the young girl check out at the counter,  Ori is sitting on the wooden top laughing loudly at something Y/n is saying, scanning each book in Y/n’s hands and typing into the computer as Y/n directs her after each item.

Of course, he’s going to take her to Masa. Stark doesn’t do anything simple. Everything has to be flashy with him. Y/n probably won’t like all that flashy stuff. It’s stuffy there. Not that Bucky would know. He’s never been, and there was no way Bucky could ever afford to take anyone to Masa. There’s not a chance in hell he’s ever going to make enough money to spend a grand on some fancy dinner. Shit. Who is he kidding? She’s going to love it. Stark’s charming, handsome and could give her the best of everything.

If anyone deserves the best, it’s Y/n, but then again Stark didn’t have the best reputation. If he didn’t end up breaking her heart, which was more likely than not, his relationship with Y/n could affect her relationship with Ori. Bucky doubts Tony Stark’s idea of a fun night is watching Hotel Transylvania while eating pizza on the couch. However, if she wants to date him, as Y/n’s friend, Bucky has no choice but to support her-- even though he thinks it’s a terrible idea.

This is the worst idea and Bucky absolutely hates it.  

Previous // Next

[dyketectivecomics]

Chance Encounters of the Demonic Kind - Chapter 6: Sixth Sense

(New Year, Same Old Habits. Read on AO3 or below!)

For those of you who are new, this fic is the first, chronologically speaking, of my Magic Fam AU series, based off of DC Bombshells. A Simple Premise Really: Constantine and Zatanna adopt Raven and hijinks predictably ensue. (well, moreso lots of trouble rather than hijinks. but its certainly been a lot of fun to explore anyways)

...

The magician turned over another book, dropping it onto the coffee table in frustration before she began rubbing at her eyes. She must have read the same paragraph a dozen times in the past hour, none of it familiar, or relevant. But she needed the break from all of these useless files that surrounded Constantine’s workspace, even if it was with something that only seemed to exacerbate her growing headache.

Hearing a soft noise next to her, she stopped in her musing and turned.

Raven was tiptoeing carefully around the papers, grimacing down as her socked feet rustled against them. She’d chosen overalls and a bright pink shirt to match those soft pink socks; holding her arms aloft to keep her balance, and concentrating as she took each step. She nearly made it to the doorway into Constantine’s main office, before the magician’s voice froze her in her tracks.

“POTS,” she said, shaking her head, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

The young mage slowly shifted back from stepping on the balls of her feet. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she gave the magician a dismissive shrug.

And Zatanna found herself biting back a smile. She’d been with them little more than a week at this point, but that movement was definitely something she picked up from John.

“I want to help,” she said carefully, eyes roaming from paper to paper around the room, avoiding Zatanna’s.

She could only snort in response.

“And just how, pray tell, do you plan to help?”

The girl stood there silently, biting her lip to keep from talking, her shoulders tensing marginally at the question.

Zatanna could feel her stomach knot uncomfortably then. Her heart rate picking up, her palms sweating. But this feeling, once again, wasn’t her own.

She took a breath, a reminder to ground herself before she leaned forward from her seat.

“Raven. Why are we so anxious?”

Her eyes immediately shot to reach Zatanna’s, wide and fearful and searching.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The sorceress found herself running her hands over her eyes again, taking another deep breath in her nose and blowing it out of her mouth.

“I’m not upset, blackbird. I just want to know what’s bothering you.”

She turned away.

“Nothing is-”

“Nope. Gonna stop you right there, kiddo,” Zee smiled wryly, waving a hand, “This stomachache you’re giving me, tells me otherwise.”

Somehow, when the girl shifted her arms to cross them over her stomach, she seemed even smaller then.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

Zatanna only sighed before patting the space on the couch next to her, and picking the book back up from the table.

“Crazy as his system seems, there’s a reason for it,” she smiled fondly as she felt that sinking feeling slowly fade away. Raven only hesitated at her spot for a second, before she scrambled over to the sorceress, growing more at ease as she climbed onto the couch with her.

“I can’t let you help us clean up just yet,” she continued, “But you’re welcome to read with me. Is that alright?”

The girl took the book that was offered, gingerly from her hands before nodding.

“Reading is… fine.”

“This one doesn’t have as many pictures as the others,” Zatanna warned.

“I’ll manage,” she said, giving a small smile back.

The magician was grateful, as the afternoon passed in companionable silence.

She shuffled through several papers, quickly dismissing so much of the records and research. File after file of hocus pocus and hollywood witchery. All spinning the tale of a group playing at forces they couldn’t begin to understand, like children with matches.

The key was figuring out how they found a real, genuine spark.

Just before Zatanna was ready to call it and ask Constantine what his plans for dinner were for the evening, she and Raven both jumped as they heard his ecstatic shouts from the room over.

“I’ve got it! Zee!” he yelled, one hand wrapping around the doorframe to pull him out of the room, the other holding a bunch of papers in victory. “I’ve found it. I-” His smile dropped slightly as he saw the girl sitting beside her.

“Raven, what’re you doin’ down here, bird?”

She looked from the occultist to the magician and back again, a long quiet descending over them. She picked up the book in her lap.

“I’m helping.”

“Well,” John chuckled, “Carry right on, then.”

~*~*~*~*~  

The apartment still smelled like sulfur.

It no longer reeked of the stench, no. But it lingered. Mixing in a terrible way with the nicotine that already permeated throughout the rooms. Candles had long since been snuffed and salt cleared, but that terrible burning sulfur still remained.

A week since the girl had been summoned, days since he’d stepped back into the place. He’d let himself get a little too hopeful that it would clear in their absence.

“You couldn’t be bothered to open a window,” Zatanna berated, following close behind him.

He ignored the barb, deflecting. “You sure Raven will be okay with-”

“She’s already in bed and fast asleep, John. Besides-” She reopened his apartment’s front door to reveal her own Gotham suite again, “-we’re right next door if she need us.” Useful tricks up her sleeves, as always.

“Still don’t see why we need the two of us-”

“Two sets of eyes are better than one when searching, especially in the mess we left here. And I know better than anyone how you get when you’re searching for something that’s right in front of you, John. So let’s get this over with,” Zatanna wrinkled her nose, “And maybe crack open a few windows before we leave. God, it reeks in here.”

“God’s got nothing to do with it,” the occultist mumbled, heading right for the library.

The first thing that caught his eye, were the minor smears of chalk dust in the wood floor, and salt that lingered in the grooves. Those things could be found in most flats that Constantine had lived in over the years, of course. This one was no exception to the war scars he left in his wake. But since, like so many before, this summoning circle was mostly cleared away, that meant searching instead for all the research he had conducted before that fateful ritual he’d performed a week prior.

Something he should have kept better track of, before he and Zatanna had started tearing up his flat in their panic from before.

“Hindsight,” he sighed to himself, picking up a stack of books that he knew had already proved fruitless, and finally reshelving them. Not to the places they actually belonged, but he’d worry about cleaning that mess later. Right now, he had a mission.

The magician eventually joined him in the room, a stack of books in her arms and another few levitating behind her like ducklings in a row.

“I still think these top two might be helpful,” she said with a nod of her head towards the stack in her arms, “But the rest should probably go back.”

“Till next time,” John reminded, a smile growing on his face.

“Till next time,” she agreed. “Anywhere you want them?”

He only shook his head, “If there’s an empty space, fill it. Let’s find those notes.”

As they spent those next few, precious minutes shuffling and searching and shelving, Constantine felt a peace descending over them. It was a familiar pace they set themselves in, working together and not needing to fill the empty air with so many words. Enjoying a silence and occasional question exchanged.

He was not so naive, however, to believe that it would last.

“Be honest with me, John,” she asked, and the tone in her voice had his hair already standing on end. This was heading nowhere good. “Just what the hell were you thinking?”

“Would it help my case if I said I wasn’t?”

She gave a scoff, but said nothing, continuing to shelve the last of the books as she waited for an answer.

“It’s like I told you before,” he sighed, “It’s always been about Astra, but… Soon as I saw her, Zee, I knew I couldn’t just… send her back. She’s… she’s just not- ”

He stopped himself as they heard something crash, locking eyes immediately.

“That sounded like your place,” he said, eyebrow quirking as they heard another dull thud .

“Keep searching for your notes,” she nodded, “This conversation isn’t over.”

He waited until she left, sighing, “It never is, luv.”

~*~*~*~*~

She knew there’d be trouble, the moment she could first hear the girl stifling her cries behind the door.

“Raven?” she called, hand gripping the doorknob, something in her hesitant to turn it yet. “I’m coming in… Is everything-”

She stopped herself as she took in the room, or rather, how dark the room had become.

Not even the light from the streetlamps or neon signs along the street were able to cut through the inky black that now enveloped the space. Something had knocked the nightlight out of place, and far enough from the wall for Zatanna to see it in the small sliver of light carving a path into the room now. She could scarcely make out the outline of the bed or nightstand, as the shadows in the room hummed and shook every object with a violent energy.

She hesitated only a second longer, before rushing into the room as she heard a distinct sob escaping from the girl, curled and shaking in the bed.

“Raven! It’s okay! I’m here!”

“I’m- I- I’m-”

The magician only shushed her, kneeling down beside the bed. She only shook a little in the knees, though she tried her best to keep her panic at bay. Despite everything that set her on edge, some part of her knew that it wasn’t something to truly be feared.

This girl may also be a demon, but she had yet to show any such demonic inclinations.

“Take a breath. It’s okay. I’m here,” she whispered, keeping her voice even and slowly running a hand over her cheeks to wipe away tears. The other she ran through the girl’s hair, giving her a soothing brush.

“What happened? Was it a nightmare? It can’t hurt you now, blackbird. It’s over-”

She was surprised, when the girl leaned forward to embrace her, and something flashed right there in her mindseye.

A blip of a vision. Barely anything of real note, or anything that she could act on. Gone as soon as it had come.

Something she’d worry about later. Raven’s grip around her throat was starting to become a bit more of a pressing issue.

Gently pulling at her arms, Zatanna pushed herself up onto the bed once she was free, and gathered the girl up into a more comfortable position beside her. She continued sobbing right into the magician’s shoulder, cries slowly quieting. The shadows pulling back from the walls and drawing themselves back into their usual places. Most seemed to be gathering back underneath the bed, and Zatanna felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought.

‘Dealing with a girl, not a demon. You’re just trying to help a girl. ’

But even as she held the girl close, running a hand along the girl’s back and humming half-finished lullabies, she couldn’t shake the presence she could feel around them. A foreboding that sunk its teeth into the very air and lingered right at the periphery.

Just like the sulfur scent, that evidently had carried over, unbidden, from John’s apartment into her own.

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 14

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Grumpy | Leroy, Maurice | Moe French, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Merida (Once Upon a Time), Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Le Fou

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]  [Chapter 5]  [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]  [Chapter 8]  [Chapter 9]  [Chapter 10]  [Chapter 11]  [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13]

Chapter 14 - Please and Thank You

Belle shivered and turned up the collar of her coat, putting her head down as she made her way quickly between Granny’s and the library.  The rain seemed intent on committing aggravated assault, and in spite of how tightly she clung to the collar of her shirt, trickled inside and ran down between her shoulders, leaving what she knew would be a damp patch almost the entire length of her back.

The forecast had promised a break in the inclement weather, but so far it had pretty much rained every day since she’d been back, and not for the first time, Ruby’s question about what she saw in the town of Storybrooke flitted through her mind and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of an appropriate answer.

On her first day back, she hadn’t minded it so much, because she was so relieved to have actually managed to secure the position of head librarian and the funding for the library that she needed, thanks, she believed, in no small part to the presence of a senior member of the town council in the mayor's office when she arrived…

Belle glanced at her watch again for perhaps the tenth time is as many minutes, her heart fluttering, pounding even as she began to see the now familiar terrain, the tree lined road that led off from the highway, which would - she knew - eventually curve around to the fateful spot where the deer had caused her all the trouble, and was the reason she was now riding in the back of a private hire cab that had - quite frankly - been much more money than she could afford, but which she had no choice but to spend.

There had been a hold up on I-95 and that meant that what would have given her an E.T.A. that left a comfortable margin to get the paperwork to Mayor Mills, she would now have mere minutes, and that’s if she were lucky.  First she had to drop the boxes of books that she had managed to fit into the car at the library, and then once that was done, hurry off to the Town Hall, and thwart the mayor’s sabotage of her opening the library once and for all.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she heard the driver say, as she glanced at her watch again, and she cringed at the use of the endearment, “but I can’t take these bends any faster and be safe.  I know it’ll mean we’re tight on time, but what can you do?”

She hmmd an absent, non committal response, because she knew if she did anything else, she’d end up saying something she shouldn’t or that she would regret. What felt like hours later, but could only have been a few minutes, she heaved a sigh of relief as they rounded the curve in the road, and the ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign stood out starkly white against the darkening trees. She also noticed, as they turned around the bend, a newly erected series of black and yellow chevrons around the tightest part of the curve. A short way away from the bend, in the entrance to an access road - more a trail - into the trees, the flash of white showed her van was exactly where it had been left.

When they finally reached the town, Belle fought to keep down the panic that was rising in her.  The clock on the dashboard of the car read 4:45pm. She would barely have time to drop the boxes and her things inside the library before she hurried to the town hall with the paperwork.  She would be cutting it fine, if she even managed it at all.

She couldn’t give up now.  She had done so much the past few days to make sure that Regina wouldn’t have her way and keep her from opening the library. It had become more than simply a need to provide her with a livelihood, and the town with a working public amenity, it seemed to have escalated into a full on battle of wits with the mayor of Storybrooke.

Thankfully, she had already paid the private hire ahead of time, due to the cost of the journey, so as soon as they pulled up outside of the library, she was already all but jumping out of the car and beginning to haul the boxes toward the library doors.  She cursed herself for her fumbling with the keys, in her mind taking minutes from the amount of time she had remaining, but in reality it was less than one minute. By the time she had the doors open, the driver had brought several more of the boxes and stacked them with the others.  As he went back for the rest, Belle began pushing and pulling at the stacked boxes to get them across the threshold, propping open the door with one of the heavier among them so that the driver could put the others directly inside. At last they were finished, and Belle practically thrust the two folded bills she had pushed into her pocket for the tip, into the driver’s hand.

“Very much obliged,” he said, and gave her a nod, before ducking back into the cab and and heading back the way they’d come, driving along the road that led to the town’s suburbs, and then out toward the town line.

Glancing at her watch again, Belle saw she had less than five minutes to get to the town hall, and began opening the tops of the smaller boxes to find the one in which she’d packed the papers, to make sure she didn’t lose them.  One box… two… she found them, finally, on the top of the books in the third box she tried.

Snatching them up, she almost ran for the town hall, barely pausing to lock the library door again, not wanting to arrive breathless, but having little choice. When she got to the town hall building, she slowed her steps, forcing herself to calm by smoothing the travel wrinkles from her skirt and top, then, hoping she was presentable, she stepped into the office, and found her way around to the mayor’s office, where  she was confronted with a secretary just coming out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “You can’t go in there.  She has someone--”

Though not normally so rude, Belle shook her head, and pushed past the woman, bursting into the mayor's office, to see that indeed she had someone with her.  He turned in his seat as she bustled in, raising an eyebrow in her direction, and she found herself face to face with the besuited Mister Gold. She groaned inwardly.  For some reason she always seemed to make a poor impression of herself and she frowned then, not knowing why on Earth that should matter to her, but somehow it did.

It was Regina that spoke first, however.

“Miss French,” she exclaimed. “I don’t know how they did things in Boston, but you can’t just come… barging in here without an appointment or introduction!”

“But you wanted this paperwork,” Belle protested.

“Yes, by five, I said,” Regina said, “And I’m afraid it’s past five and…”

Belle immediately glanced at her watch, the time showing 4:58pm.  She was about to say so, when Mister Gold’s voice smothered Regina’s assertion like a fire blanket.

“No, no,” he said, correcting her, and as he stood, Belle noticed he had a pocket watch in his hand. “According to my watch there are still two minutes until five, and since I am the one without an appointment, far be it for me to interfere with the proper operation of the Town Library.” He paused, offering Belle an almost smile, that she thought from the other side of the argument might have looked more like a smirk. “After all, I’d be a poor representative of the Town Council if I stood in its way.”

He turned to Regina then, and added, “Please, by all means see to it that the paperwork is properly filed now that the appointment of our librarian has been made.” He slipped the pocket watch back into his pocket, and nodded first to Regina and then to Belle. “Good day, Mayor Mills.  Miss French.”

Belle moved to the side, finding herself holding her breath as Mister Gold passed her in the doorway, and his knowing eyes met hers for a second longer than was necessary, drawing that precious breath from her lungs, before he stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

Several days had passed since then, but in spite of now having her position officially approved by the Mayor, Belle felt no more secure than she had previously.  The cleaning and redecoration of the library was moving on a-pace, thanks to the efforts of Leroy and his friends, and a lot of hard work from Belle herself. The books that she had brought from Boston were now cataloged and standing proudly in the spaces on the shelves. There was still one not so small problem.

With the cost of having to take a private car from Boston, and staying at the Bed and Breakfast quickly eating through her disposable income, if she wasn’t careful she wouldn’t have enough money to rest a home, and the prospect of needing to sleep in the van didn’t really appeal to her, long term.

Speaking of the van, she supposed she should go to collect the vehicle. It would be quite the walk, but she thought she could use the time to set her mind straight, help her to make a plan, and since the rain seemed to have finally relented, Belle decided that it was a good time to do that.

On the way out of the library, a book sitting on the desk, one of the ones she had brought with her from Boston, caught her eye, and on impulse, she picked it up and put it into her oversized purse, along with the remaining signs she had been tying on the lamp posts.

As she walked she began to think through the problem as best she could.  Much as she loved staying at Granny’s, and Granny took good care of her, now that she had the library, she had to find somewhere permanent to live, especially since Regina had paid her a visit since the incident in her office with Mister Gold, and had made hardly-at-all veiled threats that if she didn’t have a permanent address soon, the town would have to revoke her appointment.

“We can’t, after all,” she said with a viper smile on her face, “have an vagrant hold an office of the Town of Storybrooke.”

The longer she stayed at Granny’s the less money she would have for a deposit and first month’s rent on a place to call home - not that there seemed to be much in the way of vacant homes in Storybrooke, and she checked… every day. She decided then, that once she had the library ready to open up - to her satisfaction at least, she would focus all her energies on finding somewhere to live.

She took a breath, picking up her head a little from where she was walking, looking at the road, and the verge at the side of the road.  It didn’t surprise her all that much to find herself nearing the place in the road where the sheriff had left the van, and she was relieved to discover that it was still there, just as she’d left it.

As she approached the spot where the deer had leaped out of the woodland beside the road, she noticed the dark patches on the road where she had braked hard to avoid hitting the deer.  Her mind flashing back to the moment even as she walked…

It had begun to feel as though everything were conspiring against her again, which she realized was a particularly paranoid state of mind as the only factor that appeared to be in any particularly existentialist state against her was Regina Mills.

Her thoughts were whirling rapidly around in her mind, in much the same way that the still naked branches of the trees were rushing past to either side.  She lifted her foot off the gas, just a little, to allow her to take the bend in the road more easily, one more bend and she knew she would see the sign, that at this time of night, would be little more than a silhouette.  She knew, from her previous bus ride back to Boston, that it read, Leaving Storybrooke , and perhaps wanting to be away, all the quicker to return, she did not slow as much on the second bend.

Out of the darkness to the side of the road a flash of movement startled her, and she didn’t realize what it was until, too late, a deer darted out from the trees into the road ahead, where, caught in the headlights of the van, it froze.

Drawing a gasped breath, and holding it as she screwed up her eyes, not wanting to see the coming moments, Belle hit the brakes, gripping the wheel so hard that her fingers ached. She was certain that there was no way she would avoid the helpless animal. The van snaked, first one way, and then the other, eventually lurching to a halt diagonally across the middle of the road.

The engine stalled.

Slowly, Belle opened her eyes. Released from the direct glare of the van’s headlights, the deer blinked once, flicked the white of her tail and bounded away from the vehicle, disappearing into the trees on the other side of the road.

...and as though that hadn’t been enough, she remembered the fear she’d felt at seeing the big rig barrelling toward her; how she’d felt her life was at an end. It was a strange juxtaposition of thoughts and actions, as she drew level with the spot where the truck had finally come to a stop, that she was now preparing to begin anew and open the library, and also to give the people of Storybrooke a new beginning.

She wanted to give Hunter something to mark his part in it all, and because… well because he’d been so nice to her, so attentive as he’d driven her to Boston after the near disaster.  The thoughts combined in her head as a warm feeling began to flow through her, and she reached into her bag and pulled out the book she had slipped into it, along with a plastic bag, and one of the signs announcing the opening of the library.

Looking around the area near to the tire tracks on the road, she spotted the nub of a broken branch that was large and sturdy enough to support the book she wanted to leave, and was in clear sight of the road.

It was a ridiculous notion, she thought, even as she slipped the book - Blue Highways: A journey Into America by William Least Heat-Moon - into the plastic bag and hung it over the knotty nub on the tree. Then she speared the sign that read, “Town of Storybrooke Library, Opening Soon,” onto the nubbin as well, tying the top of the sign into place with a piece of twine, but she hoped that Hunter would see it and realize she had left it as a gift for him.

[serahsanguine]

Vacation Series Pt. 2. Halloween Surprises Ch, 2

This is the second chapter of the second book in a two-part series

Book one. - pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

Book Two. - pt. 1, 

All chapters can be found Here on Ao3

This Chapter Rating; NC-17 NSFW

Tagging; @skullsmuldon @today-in-fic @baronessblixen @peacenik0

********************************************

Notes; The book referenced is an actual book for myths and legends in Martin County and thanks to Amber and Ian giving me the reference to write from. Everything that is in the ‘book’ related is actually how it is written in the book.

***********************************************

Chapter Two; Day Two -  Spooky Stories & Marvelous Myths

The sky was dark outside and the waves could be heard crashing into the shore. The smell of their escapades was still hinted in the air and the simmering embers of the dying fire crackling and hissing in the background. 

Mulder rolled over to find Scully’s side of the bed cold he sat up and looked around the room. He found the small light under the door of the suite. There was a sound of water running and the light being turned off. He lay back down and soon felt her weight cocooned into his body. 

“Are you ok?” he whispered to the top of her head. 

“I’m fine just needed a bathroom break.”

He chuckled and they fell back to sleep. 

Several hours later. 

Both Mulder and Scully were sitting in the kitchen Mulder was making pancakes and Scully was sitting on the kitchen island. 

“What time are The Lone Gunman due?” 

“Not until early evening, they have a story to wrap up.”

She took a sip of her coffee and admired the view of him naked wearing nothing but an apron. And smiled when she thought of the little marathon escapade against the kitchen table. Both vowed they would still eat thereafter doing what they had just done. 

“Thinking about earlier?”

He sat down placing a stack of pancakes in front of both her and him and a slice of toast as well along with fresh orange juice and coffee.

“How could you tell?”

“You have a look about you, you only have it when you’re thinking about either me or sex.”

“Describe it to me.”

He leaned over to her and brought his finger to her face and slowly caressed near her eye and spoke in a low voice. 

“You have a glint in your eye and your eyes change a different shade of  blue”

He moved his finger to the corners of her lips.

“The corner of your mouth turns up a little and you get little creases right here, a hidden smile and the look of affection and adoration.”

He placed his lips on her kissing her softly. He leaned back and sat back into his spot.

“And those lips tell me your in love and the happiest you’ve been in a very long time.”

“I do love you,”

“I know and I love you too.” 

They carried on talking and finishing breakfast, Scully went off to start getting ready for the trip Mulder had planned and if she was being honest it actually sounded nice. Visiting an old book store and browsing their books. She used to do it when she was younger, it was more for comfort back then peace quiet, especially when moving around a lot. The first thing she would do is go into town and find the nearest bookstore and sit in a quiet corner and she would instantly feel safe no matter the place, no matter the time. 

Mulder was cleaning up the pots when it had occurred to him that the only thing Scully had eaten was a half slice of toast. He was dismayed at her not eating but thought nothing more of it. Maybe she was just feeling a little under the weather from there journey yesterday. 

Several hours later they had walked into town managing to dodge the heavy rainfall that unexpectedly came up. They stood outside a cleverly named bookstore called Turn the Page Mulder could not help but smile at the pun. The bookstore from the outside was beautiful with dark brown stained wood bay windows with clear glass windows flanking it. With a display with purple silk and a few spooky Halloween children's books standing upright on display. The top banner above the window in black with white letters setting off the whole place. The door was the same wood as the window with small panes of glass at the top each spelling out the book store name.   

Mulder went through the door first and like any good bookstore, there was a little bell letting the owner know they had a customer. Mulder being the man he is went straight to the Syfy and New Article's section. Scully went to novels first before working herself around to the Science/ Medical book section. 

The bookstore smelled of smoked almonds with a mixture of old and new books. Scully ran her finger over the shelves and each sequential book. Some covers feeling smooth and designed to barely touched or new, and others feeling rough, scratchy well worn and well-loved. There were first editions and third editions mixed together with the low lighting making it brilliant for reading and looking. She went through the sections one by one all the way to the back of the store where she found the quiet corner filled with soft table lamps emitting a yellow-orange glow. There was also a range of different chairs some hard and tall some soft and cushioned but each unique in their own way. 

She could spend hours at a bookstore reading through every book and when she looked over at Mulder he also looked in his element. No more than 5 minutes later he was trying to get her attention but without disturbing everyone else, she walked over to him and he looked like a kid in a candy store all excited.

“Look Scully!” he whispered.

“What is it?” she whispered back. 

“It's a book full of myths and legends.” 

“We, and I repeat WE, are not going looking for an X-File while were are on holiday,” she said a bit more loudly then she meant to and quickly looked around feeling like a schoolgirl that had been caught shouting in a library at school. 

“You wound me Scully, but I promise we are not going looking for an X-File on our vacation.”

“Good! So why are you all excited about this book?” 

“It just fits the theme of this week don’t you think?"

She looked at him sceptically before taking the book out of his hands and reading the title of the book. ‘Ghosts and Witches of Martin county’. She had to give it to him, this is actually what she had been looking for when she had mentioned it to him a mere few hours earlier. 

She thought back to when she asked. 

*****

“Mulder I want to go look for a book,” she said pulling the blue T-shirt over her head as he just turned on the shower.

“Well it’s a good thing we're going to the bookstore later than, isn't it?”

She rolled her eyes at him even though he couldn’t see it. She could hear the water splashing the tub and flowing down the drain and imagined his naked skin,  water dripping in slow motion from him. Her tongue following each trail of water down to the apex of his legs, where he was thick, hard and oh so swollen with a little clear liquid seeping from his tip. 

“For?” 

She was brought out of her thoughts as she heard the tail end of what he had been saying, 

“What was that Mulder, I didn't quite catch that?” she shouted a bit louder so he could hear her over the running water. 

“I said, what kind of book are you looking for?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Hum, try me,” he shouted back. 

“I will tell you when you're finished,” she replied.

No more than five minutes later he stepped out of the shower his hair wet and going in all different directions and a beige towel wrapped around his lower half. He walked through the suite and up behind Scully kissing her on the neck.

“What is this book you are looking for?” he said in between kisses and she melted at his touch. 

“A book of old myths and legends of different countries, Ahab and I used to do it every year near Halloween since then my mom and I  have done it unless we have been away with work.”

“That sound like something a family should do,” he said sadly. 

 She turned him around so now she could look him in the eye even with the height difference both knew this was an I'm telling the truth and mean everything I say and you'd better believe me. Look

“Mulder, if you haven't learned by now YOU ARE my family,” she kissed him on the lips and rested her head against his beating heart. 

 “I believe you, but why am I only hearing about it now?”

“It just never came up, unlike something else I know,” she said as she grabbed his standing erection and he gasped but soon disrobed her of her newly put on clothes before making their way into town.

***

He lead her by the hand over to the quiet reading corner their fingers interlocked the whole time and he began to read the first myth/legend to her. 

They sat down, Scully’s back against his stomach with the book in one hand and his other hand wrapped around her stomach. And he started to read. 

“The title reads, The Devil’s Pocosin,”

“Sound interesting do read on. ”

“The Devil’s Pocosin - a thick, dark, hazardous swampy area was the reputed heaven of ‘evil spirits’ as well as the wildcat, the panther and the bear during the colonial and ante-bellum days. Yet those wetlands produced such an abundance of huckleberries that groups of pickers would take a chance in its thickets even with the deadly cottonmouth moccasin that inhabited them. People generally believed that the pocosin provided haunts for the devil and the ‘witches’ from nearby communities.” 

Mulder read in slow whispers into her ear if people wandered past they wouldn’t have noticed. They were in their own bubble. 

“Here they were said to gather and plot wicked schemes against the good people of the area. Jack - o - lanterns or will -o- wisps were often seen around the borders of the pocosin, enticing men into the thickets where they often became lost and wandered around until daybreak. No hunter would dare to enter the pocosin alone.”

Scully turned her head so she could talk to his face.

“Will you read me another before we have to go home?”

“Of course Scully.”

“Title reads, Spell broken by old iron stake.”

Scully snuggled in deeper to him.

“The southern concept of ghosts and spirits were generally of English origin. African slaves delivered in both animate and inanimate belongs possessed of ‘spirits’ and both the slaves and the colonists believed in witches. Early settlers in the American colonies almost without exception believed in human ‘ghosts’ and the witches used their magic powers in various ways. Most of the slaves used bags of various witches' concoctions; and lacking material means, they used witchcraft as a means of revenge, sometimes even the master of the slaves turned to the witches for advice in seeking revenge on his enemies. Most people are afraid of the witches and did not relish the idea of being ‘conjured’ by them. 

They were broke out of their moment when the heard an elderly man speak to them. 

“Hello Sir, Madam, I’m closing soon.”

Scully stood up and looked at the elderly gentleman with his light brown trousers and checked red and brown shirt. 

“Oh, I'm sorry sir we will be getting out of your way. ”

“Oh no dear you’re not in the way. It's been a long while since two people came in here to read in our quiet corner and actually read if you get my meaning.” 

Scully helped Mulder stand and then blushed at what the old gentleman had said. 

“How long have you owned the shop?” Mulder asked.

“It’s been in the family for three generations now. ”

“It’s a lovely little store” Scully replied.

“Thank you, ma'am, you can have that book you’re holding for free as a thank you for talking to me and letting me enjoy your company for a little while.”

“It’s too much,” Scully said as she tried to hand the book back to the shop owner. 

“Nonsense my dear,” he said pushing the book back to Scully, “Just come visit me every once in a while.”

“We will, we promise,” Mulder said softly.

“Now you two love birds best be going before it gets too cold.”

Both Mulder and Scully put on their coats and slipped out the front door. What the shopkeeper didn't know is Mulder slipped 20 dollars just underneath a book near the till on their way out.

It was dark when they stepped outside, there were puddles of water along the cobblestone path and roads. The moon and stars creating shimmers of white in the reflections of passing windows. The sky was clear and not a cloud in sight, Scully moved into Mulder's warmth as they walked to the little house they called home while they were here.