#old Vic drawing that i never finish

[parched-chaos]

Bang

[rosemaryreaper]

Where was Nick when Hancock evacuated the Diamond City ghouls to Goodneighbor?

Back in September, I started working on a fic that covered exactly that…then I tossed it aside because I thought it was bad. But now I actually want to finish it. It’s a short Nick POV fic that follows the three days before McDonough passes the Anti-Ghoul decree. Also featured are Ellie, Security Captain Lennie Sullivan, and a still human Hancock. Here’s a snippet from Chapter 2, which is the night before everything goes to hell.

* * * *

In the end, there was nothing to be done but wait. Ellie returned with more than enough documents to fit the bill, and after another round through the line, the guard let him through with minimal hostility. When he tried to subtly linger to keep an eye on things, Security threatened to shoot him for loitering, so there was no choice but to return to the office. Lennie never returned. Neither did many of the ghouls.

Convincing his old circuit board of a brain to focus on work after that morning was difficult, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had a half dozen interconnected missing persons cases on his desk. Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t going to help anyone, ghoul or missing girl, so the least they could do was be productive with the spare time. He got Ellie to bring out what she had dubbed “the conspiracy board”—a big map of the Commonwealth they had pinned to a corkboard—and the two of them spent the afternoon moving around colored pins and strings, trying to work out which route the traffickers were using to smuggle these girls around the state.

“Think Bunker Hill could be a stopover?” Ellie asked, tapping her fingernail on a red circle to the northeast.

“They’d have to go through Goodneighbor first,” Nick said.

“I don’t doubt it. Sounds like the sort of business Vic’s gang would get mixed up in. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s responsible for this whole horrible trade.”

“Still could be a third party. Or a bit of both. We won’t know till we learn more.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t be surprised either.” He added another pin to the board. “If they’re using Bunker Hill, then they aren’t the only party stashing that particular kind of cargo there overnight. I have a contact I can talk to, see if his guys have noticed any odd goings on.”

“Sounds promising,” Ellie said.

“Let’s hope so. This is one trail I absolutely do not want to leave to get cold.”

Arturo was the neighborhood tourist. Nick would have to catch him alone sometime soon; ask him to get a message through to Deacon and his crew. If anyone was an expert on smuggling people through the Commonwealth undetected, it was the Railroad.

The door screeched open, and a choked sob tumbled through its frame. Violet shuffled in, fully weeping within Riley’s embrace. To her, Riley said, “Here, sweetheart, let’s just sit down for a spell, okay?” To the rest of the room, she said, “I’m going to fucking kill someone.”

“Oh, Violet.” Ellie rushed to grab a blanket from the bedroom. “Here, have a seat, honey.” While Riley lowered Violet into the cushioned chair, Ellie wrapped the blanket around the poor ghoul.

Jax stumbled out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed and in their undershirt, which had rolled up to expose their bandages. “Vi? What happened?”

Riley’s brows shot up. “What the hell happened to you?”

“New exercise regime,” Jax said.

“Jesus Christ,” Riley said. “Somebody jumped you.”

“What?” Violet gasped through tears.

“It’s nothing, Vi,” Jax said. “What’s wrong?”

Violet let out another sob. “I’ve never been s-so humiliated.”

“Oh no,” Ellie said. “They didn’t accept any of your papers?”

“None! The boys and I tried everything. Yefim even tried to draw up something last minute, but they wouldn’t take any of it! Now I’m going to lose everything—my home, my job. I won’t survive outside the Wall, not for a night.” She bowed her head and cried.

Ellie yanked open the drawers of her desk, pulling out a whole stack of handkerchiefs and a mug, the latter of which she filled from the coffee thermos. She murmured to Violet, out of even Nick’s broad earshot, until she could convince her to hold the mug in her hands. Nick sent a silent thanks to fate that he had hired her. He had been about to say something a hell of a lot more blunt.

“Nonhumans,” Riley snarled. “Nonhumans! We’re not another species. We’re not animals. I have half a mind to march up to the Stands right now—kick down doors until I find every councilman responsible. They want to see feral? I’ll show them feral.”

Nick said, “You’ll get yourself shot.”

“I’ll get myself shot outside too. This way will be quicker.”

Jax said, “None of our lot are getting shot outside if I can help it. Not if they stick with me.”

“Oh, look, it’s the ghoul savior,” Riley deadpanned. “Right now, if I had to bet on who would win in a fight, you or a mole rat, I’d back the mole rat.”

“It’s not all hopeless, is it?” Ellie asked, rubbing Violet’s back. “Some ghouls still managed to vote. Riley, you did.”

Riley scowled. “I did, barely, because I’m fortunate. They gave us no warning, no time to get our papers in order—and a lot of ghouls didn’t. Screw all the drifters, I guess.”

Nick could sense Jax giving him a look out of the corner of his eye. One of the “I told you so” variety. Ellie was giving him a different kind of look. One that placed far too must trust in his nonexistent ability to overcome the odds. You can do something, Nicky. Right?

Nick could do something. He could turn his investigation towards the city, root out who was pulling the strings—who had organized the guards, who had influenced the Council, who had to benefit from all the chaos. It would take time, but he was nothing if not persistent. His joints hadn’t rusted to a halt yet.

But the ghouls didn’t have time. They had tonight. The proverbial nuke had already been launched. Catching the crook here wouldn’t save anyone until after there was no one left to be saved. So, Nick would do something all right: he would shield them from the blast best he could and help those who survived out of the debris. No more. No better.

“Jax is working on an escape route,” Nick said. “I’ve been scrounging up supplies. You need something—help organizing a caravan, a spare gun, anything—you say the word.”

The room calmed, but not in a comfortable way. The room calmed in the same way a snake calms when it is too cold to move. Violet had quieted. Jax looked determined; Riley grim. Ellie turned her face away.

Jax crossed over to Violet, offering her a hand up. “Come on, Vi. Why don’t we get you back to the Dugout? You look like you could use something stronger than coffee.”

Violet accepted, sniffling, and they slipped an arm around her shoulders. With a quiet murmur of thanks to Nick, she and Jax made their exit. Riley didn’t follow. She gazed down at the empty chair, then up at Nick with that grim expression. She stalked forward, and he froze, startled, as she threw her arms around him.

Most folks weren’t lining up to give the metal man hugs. It wasn’t the kind of relationship he had with Ellie, who was technically his employee, and it wasn’t something he would ever initiate with a client, no matter how distraught. He was hyper aware of his own strength as he lifted his arms, and they hung suspended for too long as he tried to recall the last time he had calibrated them. He briefly considered blacking out to run a quick diagnostic.

But the moment had already gone on too long, and something of the old Nick kicked in. He rested his hands on her back.

“Hey now, Doc, this isn’t like you,” he said with something like humor.

Riley chuckled, with something a little less like humor. “Just saying thank you, gumshoe—for everything. In case I don’t get the chance to.” She pulled away. “I could use a drink too. Might as well celebrate my last night, while it lasts. Feel free to join.” Then she made her exit.

Ellie was on the verge of a question again, but she still didn’t want to ask it, because she still wasn’t looking at him. He looked at the board with all its strings and pins. He looked at the empty chair, the abandoned blanket, the untouched coffee. He released a long breath, forever weaker than it should be. Then he donned his coat and his hat, and he offered his secretary his arm.

It got her attention. With a faint smile, she linked her elbow with his, resting her other hand on his forearm. And they made their exit too.

[teenagedirt]

Kissing in cars (4)

Chapter four- I don't mind

Vic x female reader

Vics pov

I reach down to grab her book,then I notice something. Her drawing, it looks like her in a loose shirt,the shirt looks familiar. Then It clicks it's my shirt. I smile to myself, "you know you could've just asked me darling" I turn back to her,book in hand.

"Oh- I,uh" she stutters and blushes.

"How about instead of you sitting in here dreaming about this,you come with me,and you can pick out a shirt and keep it" she smiles at me, and nods her head.

I grab her hand and gently pull her to her feet. She giggles and follows closely behind me as we walk to the other dude of our apartment to my room. I open the door for her and lead her to my closet. It's a bit of a mess because I've been so busy trying to write songs for the new album. I open it up and step aside so she can pick one. "So I just pick a shirt?" She asks rocking on her feet.

I nod and smile at her. She leans down and picks up one of my old sleep shirts. "Is this okay" she asks holding it up,smiling shyly.

"Yes, but why are you so nervous love,you're acting like you just met me" I ask moving slightly closer to her

"I don't know,I'm a people pleaser I'm trying to make sure it's okay"

she smiles weakly snd I smile before reaching back into my closet and pulling our a pair of gray sweatpants and hand them to her."Here you can have these too" tilts her head slightly before gently grabbing them from me with a smile."I'm going to go put these on" she whispers before leaving my room and going to the bathroom. When she comes out I smile at the sight, the most beautiful girl I've ever met in my clothes. She smiles slightly and walks torward me. I sit with my legs across the couch and motion for her to com over. She laughes under her breath and walks over to me,she sits facing me and wrapps he legs around my torso.

"I love your cuddles" she says snuggled into my neck.

"Belive me I love yours too" I say as a start to play with her hair. I feel her smile I to my neck

"What are you smiling about I ask a smile planted on my face.

"Is it weird to say I love the way your heart beats. Oh who am I kidding I love everything about you." She says looking up at me.

"I love everything about you too" she smiles and moves positions slightly.

"How's the album going pretty boy" she asks before laughing at the new nickname I have.

" first of all if you get to call me pretty boy,I get to call you pretty girl" I pause "and the album is coming along great, honestly I just need to finish sky under the sea and the painter and it will be ready"

"I'm happy for you! What are you doing for the cover?" She asks, when I went on my run earlier me and Jaime had talked about using her concept art. So now we just need to find the right people for it, which our manager is taking care of.

"Your concept art" he smile widens and her face lights up with joy

"Really?" She asks hugging my waist tightly. I nod and she squeals.

"Are you gonna do a tour after the album is out" she ask and I sit to think for a moment. She is allways happy when we do events or go on tour, she's allways happy for us but her anxiety gets really bad when she's alone I always feel bad because we never have enough room on the bus for another person,but maybe I can surprise this time,since our feelings are out maybe she won't mind sharing a bed.

"Me and the guys have talked about it, but it's not set in stone yet" she nods showing she under stands.

"You Make a good cuddle buddy" she says trying to get closet to me as if it were possible

"Well your an even better one" I say wrapping my arms around her waist

"Are you sure you don't mind me wearing your clothes" she asks looking up into my eyes. My heart flutters, the same way it always does when she looks me in the eyes. I love her eyes ,I love her, I'm in love with her.

"I don't mind not at all."

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, October 25

GILES: For as long as there have been vampires, there's been the Slayer. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One. BUFFY: He loves doing this part. GILES: Alright. The Slayer hunts vampires, Buffy is a Slayer, don't tell anyone. Well, I think that's all the vampire information you need.

~~BtVS 1x02 “The Harvest”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Sticky Solution (Xander, Cordelia, Norman Pfister, PG) by badly_knitted

A Stake WHAT?! (Faith/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter xover, E) by SnarkyGranger1

Never Unclaimed (Angel/Spike, E) by the_widow_twankey

Our Silly Little Game (Giles/Jenny, G) by Jess_Ann_Perreault

[Chaptered Fiction]

Soul Marks & Other Disasters, Chapter 5/5 Complete! (Buffy/Angel, G) by bluestarsandclouds

Slayers and Watchers, Chapter 7/7 Complete! (Buffy/Giles, E) by Skylark62

To Be Hers, Chapter 18 (Buffy/Spike, unrated) by faefawn

Days of Future Past, Chapter 27/34 (Buffy/OC, Angel/OC, Buffy/Angel, M) by a2zmom

Kinktober 2023, Chapter 25/31 (Buffy/Giles, E) by Skyson

House of Slayer: The Slayer, The Witch, & The Key, Chapter 21 (Buffy, Dawn, Harry Potter xover, T) by BrennaLynn

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 3/12 (Buffy/Angel, M) by Ilovebooks10

Her Old Fashioned Boy, Chapter 10 (Giles/Jenny, T) by Bobbie23

Return of the Soulless Vampire: BTVS S9 Rewrite, Chapter 43 (Ensemble, M) by Hoomanbeans

The Vampire's Daughter, Chapter 18 (Spike, OC, T) by Puella Pulchra

[French language] Une dernière nuit, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Zenzi

43, Chapters 1-2 Complete! (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dynamite

The Plunge, Chapter 20 Complete! (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Harlow Turner

L'amore troverà la via, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Violette-Milka

Shut Up and Dance With Me, Chapter 3 Complete! (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by honeygirl51885

When Anne met Spike, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, G) by To Be Hers

Plenty of Fish , Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, PG) by all_choseny

In the Depths of October, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by mcgnagallsarmy, acekoomboom, violettathepiratequeen

Ethan Rayne, Watcher, Chapter 17 (Buffy/Spike, PG) by Desicat

New Normal, Chapter 20 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by holetoledo

Old Fashioned Romance, Chapter 3 (Xander/Steve Rogers, Marvel xover, FR21) by calikocat

Vampire Whxre, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only) by ClowniestLivEver

He's a Friend from Work, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by DeamonQueen

Autumnal Shorts, Chapter 24 (Buffy/Spike, R) by VeroNyxK84

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: Mini willow for tiny buffy (worksafe) by pzyii

Artwork: Halloween headers (Ensemble, worksafe) by onegirlinallthewrld

Artwork: [Spike drawing] (worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Artwork: She's Hell on the Old Skins (Buffy/Spike, G) by HappyWhenItRains

[Reviews & Recaps]

*WHO DUMPED WHO?!* Buffy the Vampire Slayer S5 Ep 10 "Into the Woods" Reaction: FIRST TIME WATCHING by Nick Reacts

FISHES?! Buffy The Vampire Slayer | 2x20 'Go Fish' | Blind Reaction by Vic

Werewolves! // Buffy the Vampire Slayer Episode 2x15 Reaction // I did not sed that coming! by Brooke Whipple

THE KISS! Buffy the Vampire Slayer Reaction - 3X5 - "Homecoming" ( Buffy Reaction / Review ) by Java Java Reactions

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER 5X22 REACTION | First Time Watching by EvilQK

Let's Rewatch Buffy! Season 1, Episode 11 by Jenny Trout

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 4x22: Restless Reaction!!!! by Victor & Grace Reacts

So I just finished 'Slayers'. Some thoughts [contains spoilers] by FlameFeather86

PODCAST: Fanholes Episode # 226: Buffy The Vampire Slayer [Episodes Discussed: "The Wish", "Once More With Feeling"] by Fanholes Podcast

[In Search Of]

Does anyone have any good Halloween themed spuffy fic recs? requested by bisexualdawnsummers

[Fandom Discussions]

One of my favourite Season 7 moments of Buffy, in the top-tier episode Lies My Parents Told Me by centrally-unplanned

Rewatching Buffy is also a fun exercise in context-aware consumption by centrally-unplanned

The lack of fleshed-out Buffy Army Plotline in Season 7 is a big issue for one of the Season’s key plot moments by centrally-unplanned

No matter how much people complain about Buffy’s soul lore... by coraniaid

do spuffy ever have an honest kiss? by silvermars

You know i just realized the stupidest thing about the writers not giving a Buffy a paycheck for being a Slayer in the later seasons? by confusedguytoo

Glory's Hobbits started by NoShip

10 Harsh Realities About Buffy's Character started by Skanky Vamp

Reacting to Reactions! - BtVS Season 3 [cass reacts starts S3] continued by multiple posters

Reacting to Reactions! BtVS Season 5 [EvilQK reaction to The Gift] continued by multiple posters

What are some moments of all those super-great-always-talked-about scenes that DON’T get talked about enough? by Thisisnotforyou11

What would the events of the series feel like to you if you were in the Buffyverse? by Tuxedo_Mark

Did Cordelia and Connor really have a mother son type of relationship when he was a baby? by jdpm1991

I am obsessed with Cangel by Sweet-Siren

Angel's curse is SO DUMB by JeSuisLaCockamouse

If you guys were ever going to see a film continuation of the TV show, what would you like to see in by staplerbot

Buffy Summers, Class Protector by UnquantifiableLife

The Watchers Council did not always have custodianship of the Slayer by Coven_Supreme

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: 10 Spooky Buffy The Vampire Slayer Episodes To Watch On Halloween by Screen Rant

PUBLICATION: Buffy The Vampire Slayer’s Emma Caulfield Reacts To The Show’s Ongoing Legacy As Slayers: A Buffyverse Story Is Released by CinemaBlend

PUBLICATION: Buffy's Top 10 Scariest Monsters of the Week by Sideshow

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[bertolts]

Maddie, I think you've finally done it. I think you've converted me to the Dramione side. Do you have any suggestions for fics?

OwO Oh boy do I. I have so many suggestions but I’ll just link a few that I’ve read and reread. I tend to lean toward angsty romance fics so I’m unsure if I have any fluffy fics. Unsure of what exactly you’re more into but these are some of my faves:

The Rights and Wrongs series by @lovesbitca8 : An excellent series focusing on Hermione’s and then Draco’s POV in a 2 part story of their post-war relationship. It’s filled with intense pining, angst, sexual tension, and slowburn. Part 1 is ‘The Right Thing To Do’ and Part 2 is “All The Wrong Things” Part 3 is a ‘Voldemort Wins’ AU set in the same universe. This part ‘The Auction’ is currently WIP and is quite dark so I’d recommend checking the tags before proceeding. Hermione is captured and sold into the service of Death Eaters. “But despite the horrors of Voldemort’s new world, help - and hope - seem to arise from the most unlikely of places.” There’s also a few ficlets/oneshots in this series. (Part 1 & 2 Complete - Part 3 ‘The Auction’ In-Progress)

Wait and Hope by @mightbewriting : Is a fic I love so much I just finished rereading it for the third time this past weekend. It’s a memory loss fic. Hermione loses that past 7 years of her memory and finds herself married to Draco Malfoy. It’s a bitter sweet and angsty fic about Hermione relearning her own life and relationships. Some of the chapters really punch you in the gut. I’m tearing up just thinking about it. (Complete)

Shattered Oaths by @ JustAlongTheMirrorOfErised : Just picked this up this past weekend. “There have always been whispers of old magic in the woods. Some say that you could make a promise to an ancient creature for whatever your heart desires. What the stories never told her is that all magic comes with a price. Hermione could never have known that the oath she broke as a child would threaten to destroy everything that she worked for and everyone that she loves.It all started with the being who spoke to her with words forged from liquid silver. Destiny is just as fickle as it is inevitable.” It’s a Fae AU and it is a delicious slow burn. Draco is a Fae and Hermione essentially stole his magic. together they have to try and restore the imbalance she created before they die or WORSE! It’s the type of trickster dangerous Fae lore too. The whole ‘power in a name’ type of magic(In-Progress)

Bittersweet and Strange by @ UndiscoveredQueen19 : “ Trapped to share the same cursed fate in a world ruled by Voldemort, Draco and Hermione find that their differences are what make them similar and that their flaws are what make them whole. Dramione AU with a Beauty and the Beast twist.” Draco is cursed, Hermione is a desperate order fighter, and the two get bound together and locked inside a manor. Very much angst and fluff. (Complete)

Isolation by @ bexchan : This fic has somehow become a staple to the Dramione community. This takes place post-Half Blood Prince. “ Ron and Harry are Horcrux hunting and Hermione has been left at Hogwarts to help the Order make it safe for the other students. Draco is forced by Snape to stay in Hogwarts for his own protection, but he can't leave the room he is given; Granger's room. Hermione is the only student trusted with this information, so her and Malfoy share the small space, and Draco tries to avoid insanity as he becomes increasingly isolated with only the Mudblood for company. Something's going to give.” Read this one awhile ago. I think I’m due for a reread because I don’t remember all of the details. (Complete)

Never In Heart by @ In_Dreams :  “ Hermione Granger had never anticipated that Draco Malfoy would be her best friend, a decade after the war. She'd also never meant to wind up trapped in a marriage pact, borne of one late night with too much wine. But as his thirtieth birthday draws near, time will either seek to push them together or drive them apart.” This is heavy on the pining and is definitely a Friends to Lovers fic. It’s uber sweet but can get a bit heart-achey at times cause they’re idiots in love. I think this is also the shortest rec I’ve put on this list... (Complete)

Splash of Colour by @ kyonomiko : Here’s a fun short fic rec. This one’s 3 chapters and just recently finished updating. Hermione accidentally has a spell cast on her that makes her see the entire world in a different colour of the rainbow every day. But for some reason Draco is a different colour from everyone else. I thought it was pretty cute. (Complete)

Literally anything and everything that @senlinyu has ever written. Literally all of it. I’ve read every fic they’ve put on AO3. Manacled, All You Want, Love & Other Misfortunes, The Creature Anthology, etc. These works tend to lean towards darker themes, heavy smut or both. They also write a lot of creature fics which is my absolute favourite kind of AU. Sometimes the Omegaverse is traipsed into *coughs shamefully* I blame reylo tumblr for exposing me to that. Love & Other Misfortunes is a Veela!Draco vic and also the first Dramione fic I ever read. I fell in love with it. Manacled is my favourite fic I’ve ever read. Like out of any fandom. It’s so tragic and has what I consider the best portrayal of a morally grey Hermione that I’ve ever seen. However it is VERY dark and can be very triggering so please be careful and check the tags before even attempting to read it.

There are literally hundreds of one shots that I’ve read. Most of the soulmate oneshots are lovely and I’ve gone through the ‘Pining Draco Malfoy’ tag one too many times now. Also the ‘Veela Draco Malfoy’ tag.

I think I’ll cut myself off here. I definitely also recommend going through that list of Dramione fics I just recently reblogged as well. They have a lot of fics on there that are great and I intend to check out some of the ones I haven’t read yet. I really should start utilizing the bookmarks feature on AO3... That would’ve been a lot easier T^T But I had a lot of fun just gushing about some of my favourite fics. Dramione has been such a massive fixation these past 7-8 months.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Birthday R&S

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Victor’s 2021 birthday collection:

🐼 r&s ♡ l belonging date l video call l moments and texts l asmr

[ Released on 8 January 2021 ]

[ CHAPTER ONE - Special Present ]

Victor is about to welcome his 15th birthday.

This year, the first birthday present he receives is, as usual, from Little Vick’s zoo. Standing in his room and seeing the box filled with animal plush toys, Victor frowns in slight resignation. When he was young, his parents asked him which was his favourite animal. Without putting much thought into it, he gave the panda as an answer. Since then, he’s been constantly receiving all sorts of presents featuring pictures of pandas from his parents. When he was 9 years old, he even “owned” an actual panda.

As what his father says, since it’s rare for Victor to express that he likes something, there’s definitely a need to fulfil his wish.

Even though he doesn’t dislike this gift, he finds it a little difficult to handle when the zoo sends him a huge box of souvenir plush toys since he shares the same birthday as Little Vick. Other than these, the box would also contain photographs of Little Vick’s everyday life, taken by the rearing staff. Victor would keep them, and send the plush toys to the children of relatives.

[Note] In CN, the panda’s name is 言言 (Yan Yan). But MC used the name “Little Vick” in an EN Moment post, so I’m using it too!

This year, he plans to follow the same routine. Just as he tidies up the items in the box, a knock comes at the door.

“Please come in.”

He turns his head, watching as his father walks in and leans next to the door, a coat draped over his arm. It looks like he just returned from work.

“Are you done with work?”

“Mm. Dad freed up his weekend. Since your birthday is coming, why don’t we head out together?”

Victor looks at his father’s slightly fatigued expression, and contemplates for a while.

“Okay, as long as it isn’t too noisy.”

The man casts a fleeting glance at the cardboard box in front of his son, then offers a suggestion.

“Want to see Little Vick?”

“There are a lot of people in the zoo during the weekend.”

Victor answers very quickly. As such, the man recollects the places he’s taken Victor to in the past, attempting to find a location his son would like.

“What about the countryside park?”

“Okay.” Victor agrees, then raises his head to look at him. “Dad, has Aunt been at home recently? I’m thinking of sending these plush toys to her.”

Seeing the man nod, Victor takes up the adhesive tape and re-seals the box. Watching his actions, the man sighs in his heart.

Trying to figure out what this kid likes - it’s truly a difficult question.

-

[ CHAPTER TWO - Growing Up Problems ]

It’s a pretty long journey to the countryside park. Victor stuffs this year’s pictures of Little Vick into his backpack, preparing to flip through them along the way.

Actually, ever since adopting it, he’s never visited the zoo to see Little Vick.

He doesn’t really know how to define the relationship between himself and that panda. His neighbours call their three dogs “Boss”, “Second Boss” and “Third Boss”. The moment they’re called, they would rush to the owner, and are as close as family. But Little Vick needs to be meticulously raised by professional staff. Even if it’s given a name, it doesn’t mean it has become someone’s pet, much less a “family member”.

Moreover, everyone knows that a little kid can’t afford to rear a panda. Even if the adoption certificate has Victor’s name on it, he hasn’t offered anything personally. This makes him feel that his connection to Little Vick is even more indiscernible.

Precisely because of this, Victor is always a little surprised whenever he flips through the album featuring its growth. In just a year, Little Vick has grown by quite a lot, and looks like an “adult” - but it’s only 6 years old this year.

The car halts before the traffic light. The man leans over to look at the photographs in Victor’s hands.

“It’s grown quite a lot again. Animals always grow up more quickly than humans.”

“Mm.”

After a short silence between the two, Victor mutters softly.

“...I also wish to grow up quickly.”

Hearing Victor say this suddenly, the man is a little shocked, turning his head to look at him.

“Why?”

“Because there are many things I can’t do right now.”

The man deliberates on his choice of words. “The reason why Little Vick can grow up so quickly is because its lifespan is relatively short. But you're different - you have sufficient time to live out every stage properly.”

After the man finishes speaking, he doesn’t get a reaction from Victor for a long time. From the rearview mirror, he discovers that Victor seems to have sunk into a deep contemplation.

Could talking about such things be too heavy for his son’s birthday? The man lifts his hand to loosen his tie, planning to change the topic.

"But there’s still a chance for you to do things yourself if you want to.”

“For instance, you could try paying for Little Vic’s adoption fees.”

Seeing Victor raising his head, he continues.

“The adoption fees for Little Vick are in yearly instalments. Once you have the ability to do so, Dad won’t help you pay for them.”

Victor hesitates for a moment. “Doesn’t that still require me to wait till I’m older?”

“As long as you're able to earn money from me, it doesn’t matter how old you are. Didn’t you learn about the stock market simulator from Dad recently? I’ll let you use the profit in exchange for an equivalent value.”

Victor straightens up slightly in his seat, and asks in slight anticipation. “How much is it every year?”

"A hundred thousand yuan.”

[Note] Approximately USD$15,500

Victor lapses into silence for a while. To a kid, a hundred thousand yuan is indeed not a small number. Seeing his expression, the man prepares some words of comfort. However, he suddenly speaks.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

-

[ CHAPTER THREE - The Moment of Meeting ]

The car stops at the entrance of the park. Within it, father-and-son look at each other in dismay.

Five minutes earlier, the two of them were notified by the carpark staff that the park has temporarily ceased operations due to some internal revisions. As such, they have no choice but to head to another place.

“Looks like we should have given them a call to check first.”

Seeing the rare expression of vexation on his father’s face, Victor retrieves a map from the storage compartment. The both of them stare at it together, and it seems that the Loveland City zoo, which is only dozens of kilometres away, is the most suitable replacement.

“Shall we take a look?”

Sensing that his father is waiting for his answer, Victor hesitates for a moment before nodding in agreement.

After registering the adoption certification, the staff of the panda area enthusiastically receives the father and son.

“Little Vick’s birthday is coming soon. It’d definitely be very happy to see the two of you.”

Walking into the warm venue, there are excited visitors everywhere. With such an atmosphere, Victor starts feeling slightly expectant too.

“The one at the front is Little Vick.”

The staff brings the two of them before a glass room. At the front is a panda which is hugging a ball and amusing itself. Victor leans closer to the glass, giving it a detailed look. Little Vick seems to have been taken cared of very well. Its fur is fluffy, it looks sturdy, and refuses to let go of its favourite toy.

The man laughs inwardly as he watches his son subconsciously draw nearer to the glass. He even thought Victor didn’t like such adorable animals - it turns out he just refused to admit it. The phone in his pocket vibrates unceremoniously, and he signals to Victor, turning around to answer the call in a corner.

When it’s time for the pandas to eat, the rearer brings a large bundle of bamboo into the glass room. Seeing the look of anticipation on Victor’s face, the rearer specially brings a small bamboo leaf close to the glass. As expected, Little Vick sets down its toy and paces over. After circling the bamboo leaf twice, it suddenly lifts up his front paws and plops onto the glass. Victor is stunned, subconsciously bending down, reaching out to attract its attention.

The staff smiles as he looks at the boy and panda. “Looks like Little Vick really likes you!”

“...”

Saying that he wasn’t pleasantly surprised would be a lie. Victor looks at its slightly curved lips, and smiles along with it.

Should he greet it, or should he just stay like this quietly?

While he’s struggling internally to come to a decision, Little Vick slides off the glass, plopping its bottom onto the ground. Finding a comfortable position, its back faces Victor as it starts gnawing on the bamboo.

...as expected, eating is more important.

Victor hurriedly retracts his smile, straightening up to look at the back of its head. In order to alleviate the embarrassment from earlier, he broaches a new conversation topic.

“May I know,” he turns to the staff member at the side. “If it’s considered an adult now?”

“Yes, it’s already at an age where it’s seeking a spouse.”

“In that case, will it live together with its family in the future?”

“Pandas are very solitary, and Little Vick’s a boy. Even if it has children, it’d still lead a solitary life.”

As though in deep thought, Victor nods. Although these animals look charmingly naive, they aren’t as weak as imagined, and don’t need to rely fully on those around them.

As compared to them, perhaps he truly hasn’t grown up yet.

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR - Repaying Love ]

Returning from the call, the man sees Victor staring at the back profile of Little Vick. Even after leaving the panda area, he doesn’t speak.

“Why aren’t you talking?”

After a while, Victor responds.

“It doesn’t seem like it’d remember us.”

The man recollects the image he saw earlier. With some understanding, he nods.

“If we visit it a few more times in the future, it might remember.”

“But... so many people visit the pandas every day. I’m just one of them.”

“Victor, let Dad ask you something.” The man pauses in his footsteps and looks at him. “Without considering other factors, do you like Little Vick?”

Victor nods very quickly. The man continues with another question.

“After knowing it wouldn’t respond to you, do you still like it?”

After thinking about it for a while, Victor nods again. The man laughs slightly, bringing him towards the resting spot near the lakeside.

“Not being able to return the same emotions yet not affecting your liking towards it - isn’t this very good?”

“But it’s usually living in the zoo. We can't rear it personally. This kind of liking can’t establish any connections.” Victor seems to hesitate. “I remember you mentioning that the reason for “liking” is to establish connections with other people.”

The man pauses in his steps, turning his head to meet his son’s puzzled gaze. He sighs softly.

“What Dad tells you is not necessarily always true. You need to learn how to assess the appropriate occasion and target. You and Little Vick aren’t able to understand each other. Protecting it from afar like this isn’t a bad choice.”

Victor frowns slightly. These words are slightly confusing, and seem to contain things he has yet to understand.

“In that case, what if there’s mutual understanding?

A cool breeze brushes past. He watches as his father blinks, concealing a very small emotion in his eyes.

“A person who is willing to understand you is someone who is wiling to walk down the same path as you. If you meet that person someday, you must definitely cherish them.”

Because their original plan was to visit the countryside park, the man also brought the cake along. Since the scenery by the lakeside isn’t bad, the both of them select a bench and sit down. The man hands the cake box to Victor.

“Do you mind eating the cake a few days in advance?”

“I don’t mind.”

Victor takes apart the ribbon. Inside is a very exquisite cake, a small brand logo printed on the bottom right side of the chocolate sign. Perhaps noticing his slight pause, he quickly hears his father’s voice.

“...this year’s cake was bought.”

“It looks very nice. Thanks, Dad.”

“The zoo doesn't allow for the lighting up of candles. So we’ll blow out the candles and make a wish at home.”

“Okay, it’s all right.”

Victor carefully cuts out two slices of cake, handing one to his father. The two of them sit next to each other, eating cake while staring at the lake, neither of them speaking.

-

[ CHAPTER FIVE - Important Person ]

After returning home and having a bath, Victor walks towards his room with relaxed steps. While passing by his father’s bedroom, he vaguely hears him talking to someone over the phone.

It’s so late. Is he still working? Victor is about to continue walking, but his ears suddenly catch a few special words.

Weather, zoo, birthday... His father doesn’t seem to be talking about work, but about very trivial topics to someone. Just as he’s about to step away from the door quietly, his father calls out to him.

“Victor, come in.”

“It’s late and you aren’t asleep yet.”

His father sets down the phone, not giving him a reply. Victor glances at the screen which has yet to dim, and it displays that he isn’t currently in a call. His father doesn’t seem to know how to explain that “phone call”. After a moment of silence, he suddenly broaches another topic.

“Dad didn’t give you a present this year. You’re going to be 15 soon. Do you want something different?”

“You’re referring to...”

“For example, a present belonging to an adult.”

“Anything is fine?”

“Tell me what it is first.”

After giving it some thought, Victor scans his father’s room. Most of the items are either things he already owns, or things he doesn’t need in the far future. After taking a look around, his eyes fall back onto his father - to be more precise, the dark coloured tie he’s wearing.

“I want to buy a tie.” Victor pauses, then adds on. “One with a darker colour.”

Actually, there have been many occasions when he’s needed to wear a tie, and he doesn’t lack them. But most of them cater to his age, or are for school performances, and he doesn’t have one which is formal. Also, considering his mother’s preferences, the colours and patterns of the ties in the closet are very outlandish. One of them even has panda badges on it.

Perhaps thinking about the same image, his father suddenly laughs.

“Okay, you’ll pick one yourself tomorrow. But I have a condition.”

“Go ahead.”

“The reason why we didn’t light candles or make a wish this year is in hopes that you’ll say it directly when you want anything in the future. Especially when it comes to important wishes - you need to tell them to important people as soon as you can.”

“However, if it’s something I can do, I don't want to trouble someone else.”

“To some people, it isn’t troublesome.”

After saying this, he tousles Victor’s hair. Victor seems to comprehend it vaguely. In the past, he used to teach Victor how to be independent, so why is he suddenly changing his attitude?

Could it be that someone like his father has moments when he wishes to rely on someone else too?

-

Returning home the next day after buying the tie, Victor is once again called into his father’s bedroom. The two of them stand properly before the full-length mirror.

“The pattern of a tie is very critical, but tying a suitable knot is also very important.”

He watches as his father retrieves a tie from the closet, turning around to face him.

“Today, I’ll teach you how to tie a formal knot.”

“Okay.”

Before being taught, Victor never expected that such a complicated knot existed. Even though he follows his father step-by-step, the final knot ends up being crooked. Refusing to give up, he removes the tie, giving it another try.

“Does this knot have a name?”

“Eldredge Knot.”

“What occasion requires such a knot?”

His father doesn’t give him a direct answer. “The more complicated the knot, the more important the occasion. Even if you were to only use it once, it’s worth preparing for it.”

Victor watches his father in the mirror. He doesn’t say more, and simply tells him to practise by himself before turning around and leaving. Victor spends an incredibly long time in front of the mirror before he finally ties it into shape.

When he turns around, wanting his father to check it, he sees the wedding photograph of his parents out of the corner of his eye. This photograph isn’t foreign to him, but he still takes a curious, careful look at it.

With this, he finally understands what his father meant by “occasion”. In the photograph, the knot the father tied is the exact same one.

-

[ CHAPTER SIX- A flowing love ]

One more photograph of Little Vick nibbling on bamboo appears on Victor’s desk. Even though there’s a huge “generation gap” between him and Little Vick, the way it eats seriously without being picky is worthy of acknowledgement. Victor thinks - if he can fork out the adoption fees and enable it to lead a healthy and happy life, it counts as a one-sided, reasonable expression of liking it.

Aside from studying, Victor spends a lot of time over the following days researching stocks intensively. After a couple of transactions, he manages to recoup more than his original investment. This sale enables him to accumulate enough to cover the adoption fees. With the success of the stock market simulation, his father, as agreed, deposits the money into Victor’s savings account.

“Next year, you can see Little Vick with pride.”

“It’s fine as long as I can continue providing it with a good life.”

The man sighs in his heart when he looks at Victor’s small, deliberately stern face. It appears that he’s still troubled by Little Vick not remembering him.

"However, I heard that it could have its own children soon. Could I continue adopting its children?”

The man is a little surprised, but responds seriously.

“It’s your own decision. You have to ensure that you have the ability to do so in the future.”

“I’ve done some calculations. Before I turn 25, I can repay you for all the adoption fees over the years.”

“Does this count as your wish?”

“No, it’s a plan.”

The man chokes up for a moment. Even though Victor is at an age where nothing daunts him, he rarely boasts. If he can truly walk down the path he has planned, it’s truly worthy of admiration.

There may still be much his son has to learn, but he’s wiling to believe in him. But before that, he still has to return to the previous question.

“So what's your wish?”

The self-assured mini adult suddenly grows uneasy after hearing this question.

“I wish... that you’ll see me as an adult next time.”

“Hm?” The man displays an amused expression.

“If there are certain things I can do, you can let me shoulder them for you.”

At the sight of Victor’s resolute expression, the man can’t help but laugh.

"I could consider it, but you have to first learn how to not wear your tie crookedly.”

He looks down. Without realising it, his tie has become loose, and hangs on him crookedly. He hurries to the mirror to straighten it, but still looks in the direction of his father out of the corner of his eye.

The call which didn't get through in the bedroom earlier - Victor knows who it was made to. A proper calculation of the time differences , and the gentle tone used to talk about trivial matters - he’s already heard it for many years.

Certain things can’t be re-lived. But at least, they can continue through other means.

As a person who is about to become an adult, he believes he can do it.

Fun fact: Victor tied the Eldredge knot in his Deep Love Date T^T

-

🐼 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hot Blood [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex

This is dark! (mob) skinny Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Synopsis: Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there.

Note: This will only be two parts because I couldn’t fit it into a oneshot. Yes, I took liberties in terms of not making Steve brittle as a twig so forgive me for that. Also this is back in the 1940s, so keep that in mind. :) Otherwise, I love writing my skinny boy and hope you like it too.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You wanna prove you're the better man You wanna reach for the things that nobody can

🌆

You checked your watch as you strode down the sidewalk. You felt the snugness of the bundle just under your jacket as you pulled your hat lower over your eyes. At the right angle, you seemed a man about his business. A closer look and you were nothing but a woman in pinstripe trousers.

Another day, another drop. You were tiring of the tawdry tasks but the reality of your position, of your sex, was inevitable. The men were back from the war and the women were expected to return to their kitchens. Well, most of them.

It was easier in the days before victory. When you were the one sending others on your tasks. But Vic had survived his campaign in Italy and he was back with a vengeance, and few scars. The only thing which kept him from tossing you entirely was that you’d kept his organization afloat in his absence. You’d even thrown the feds off his trail and onto another’s.

Even so, life wasn’t what it was. You had to take orders, had to swallow your pride. Well, it was better than living as some bastard’s wife; better than a secretary in a tight skirt. You checked the time again and looked ahead to the brick building with the rusted horseshoe over its door.

You neared and leaned against the bricks. You turned to face the street and watched pedestrians pass. You knocked with your elbow. Two knocks, a pause, then three more. You waited and listened. The door shifted and you spun quickly as you muttered “iodine” and the code word saw you past the man on the other side.

And yet, another change. The warehouse was empty. You looked to the man who’d answered the door. It wasn’t the usual fellow. You frowned and your hand went to your waist and felt the wooden inlay of your pistol.

“Wouldn’t do that,” The man warned. “Boss is on his way. He doesn’t care for corpses. Too much clean up.”

“Boss?” You kept your hand poised but didn’t draw. “And who exactly is your boss?”

“People fall for that?” He ignored your question as he pointed to your jacket. 

“Fall for what?”

“You don’t exactly fill out a three-piece,” He reached into your pocket and you gripped your gun. He pulled out a silver cigarette case and popped it open. “Well, you know…” He gestured to his shoulder, “In some ways.”

You scoffed and shook your head as he offered you a smoke. He shrugged and put one between his lips.

“You didn’t tell me who your boss was,” You said as he struck a match and lit the cigarette.

“Vic didn’t tell you?” He asked. “Heli don’t run Brooklyn anymore.”

“He mentioned there was trouble but there always is in Brooklyn,” You tilted your head and ran your finger along your pistol handle. 

He chuckled and took a drag.

“Bucky,” He held out his hand. “Boss will be here soon.”

You shook his hand and retreated, pacing two steps back and forth as you waited.

“This isn’t how it goes. I drop the money and go.” You stopped. “Never more than five minutes.”

“You got somewhere to be?” He asked. “You must be popular with the boys. Hell, war was so long, they’d fuck a hole in the wall.”

“I usually tell em to use the wall,” You countered. “You’re boss better show in the next five minutes or--”

The back door of the warehouse opened and shut suddenly. You turned as a shadow fluttered in the small slats of light which peeked in through the high windows.

“Kid took a wrong turn,” The voice sounded as footsteps cut through the silence. “You get the money.”

“Drop’s right here,” Bucky said as he nodded to you.

Your mouth fell open as you saw the man who appeared before you. Short, slender; skinny, actually. Even his tailored suit added little to his figure and his chin seemed even sharper in contrast to the angles of his hat. His blue eyes met yours and he removed the hat.

“Miss,” He seemed as surprised as you felt.

You laughed. You didn’t mean to. You covered your mouth before you could guffaw and looked at Bucky.

“That the new boss man?” You asked.

“Steve Rogers,” The skinny man said tersely. “And yes, I’m the boss man so you talk to me, not him.”

“Course,” You said coolly. “Vic wants a single load through Brooklyn.” You carefully reached into your jacket and dislodged the bundle of money from the waist of your pants. “Tomorrow, clearance till noon.”

He watched you and then his eyes flicked to the money. Usually, they saw the green first.

“Your husband let you run around playing these games?” He asked.

“We know this isn’t a game,” You said. “And, if I did have a husband, he couldn’t keep me from my business.”

He chuckled.

“Sorry, I’m just, a little amused. I expected a man.” He said.

“Me, too,” You tossed the money at his feet. “But I guess they’re all busy doing the real work.”

His smile fell. He toed the money but didn’t take it.

“You gonna wear the pants, you gonna be treated like what you’re pretending to be,” He beckoned Bucky forward. “Cause I don’t see a lady.”

“No, you don’t,” You said defiantly as Bucky came closer. 

Steve nodded and Bucky bent to grab the money. You held Steve’s gaze, the anger obvious in their glint as his narrow jaw ticked.

“Tell Vic he’s got til noon. Sharp.” He said. “Bucky, see her out.”

He put his hat back on and turned away. Bucky waved you away and you followed him back to the door. His hand rested on the metal handle and he paused.

“Put the torch to this place,” He said. “Next drop will be on our ground.”

“Sure,” You said and he pushed down.

“Oh,” Bucky stopped as he opened the door just a sliver. “I’m not much for advice but work on the lip. He won’t put up with that for long.”

“Not my boss,” You uttered. “He got his money.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shook his head and opened the door. 

You stepped out into the sunlight and strode away. You’d have a word with Vic. You’d think he’d have enough sense to mention a change in personnel but he hadn’t had much sense since he returned.

🌆

You sat along the bar as voices buzzed in the late morning din. The old pub which had glowed during Prohibition had grown darker over the years. With rationing, it had become lifeless, barely revived in the post-war jubilance. It didn’t matter much; it had never been meant for just booze, merely a cover for more illicit trades.

As usual, Vic was in his office. He wasn’t the same talkative man he had been, though his temper had worsened. When he wanted to be heard, he made sure of it. His propensity for violence had turned to an indifference to violence. There was no barrier left between him and blood. His hair trigger made him vulnerable; it made you all vulnerable.

The bar door shook and you looked over. Several bangs before the latch busted and Donny burst in with Richie hanging from his shoulder. He dragged the bleeding man inside and dropped him onto the floor as he fell to his knees. You rose and quickly shut the door. No one used that door during the day.

“Get rags,” Arnold called and rushed behind the bar.

Donny’s arm was bleeding as Richie gripped his side, his hands red and wet. Arnold tossed you a rag and you bent beside Richie. You took his hand and pressed the rag between it and his side. You applied pressure as Donny tied up his arm with his belt.

“What fuck happened?” You ask as you leaned on Richie and tried to stem the flow.

Arnold ran out calling for Pauly. He’d been a medic during the war but tended to drink away whatever use he had left to the organization. He was likely sleeping off last night in one of the stinky rooms above that were rented out by the hour.

“Where’s the cargo?” Vic asked as he appeared in the broad archway which parted the barroom from the kitchen and his office.

“Christ, he’s bleeding out, Vic,” You hissed as Donny handed you another cloth and grabbed another for his arm.

“We got hit.” Donny leaned heavily on a stool. “It’s gone.”

“What the fuck?” Vic swore. “Who--”

“Rogers,” Richie gasped and you scrambled to keep the crimson from leaking past your fingers. “He said…”

“Take was short.” Donny finished. “Five shy.”

“Five shy. No, I gave him the right drop,” You insisted.

Arnold brushed by Vic and Pauly ambled in beside him. The former dropped the small chest of bandages and the like beside Richie as the latter came around to you and yawned as he knelt. He casually waved you away and took the rags from you. He peeked under them and pressed down.

“Got a lighter?” He asked. “Get me some tweezers.”

You held up your bloody hands and Arnold got down to search through the box ox of odds and ends.

“New boss, new prices,” Donny uttered. “S’what they said before they…” He looked at Richie and blanched.

“God fucking dammit, I new that little rat was up to no good,” Vic punched his palm. “Had the gall to come in here and put an offer down on this shit hole like he can buy what I built for a couple bills.”

“What?” You reeled as you tried to wipe clean your hands. “He made you an offer?”

“He’s a goddamn upstart,” He snarled. “I seen his kind back before the war, when the Depression had us scraping trash cans for dinner. He’d sell his own mother. Probably has.”

“How can he-- Heli didn’t have that much going on.” You argued.

“The twerp spent a couple years up in Chicago before he decided to come home and make his stake,” Vic said. “Too skinny to serve so he ran wild over there. Now he’s got a gun and some money and he thinks he can just take the whole city.”

“Hold him down!” Pauly yelled and you looked over as he was digging the tweezers into Richie’s side. The wail which rose was sickening.

“Vic, you didn’t even tell me he’d taken over,” You snarled. “Now I double counted that take but you’re the one who arranged it. He said fifteen not twenty, right?”

“I told him I wouldn’t give him any more than I did Heli.” He sneered.

“And?” You urged.

“He said we’d see. And I never heard nothing else.” He growled.

“You didn’t hear anything or you just made an assumption?”

“I handled worse over in Italy,” He grumbled. “Little twit doesn’t scare me.”

“It’s not just him,” You huffed. 

It was so much easier when he was gone. You and Arnold had been a great team. He was too old to serve and he was wise; pragmatic. Don’t play big, play smart.

“Another word,” Vic warned. “I’m tired of the fucking mouth on you. Men go away for a couple years and all you bitches learned to bark.”

“If we hadn’t, you’d have nothing to come back to,” You retorted. “And I learned more than how to bark.”

“You think you know it all. You run around in your suits and play gangster, little girl.” He snarled. “I saw men holding their insides; I ran into a haze of bullets and you did what? Gave away your stockings and baked cakes without sugar.”

“You got a man holding his insides right here,” You snapped. “I should’ve let Crane have this place. I drove that snake out on my own. Me. So don’t you call me little girl.”

A knock interrupted him as his face turned red. The front door had fallen open as a figure leaned in the doorway. So slim it could only be one person. You reached for your gun along with Vic and Donny. The other men continued their struggle on the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Rogers?” Vic pulled the hammer back on his gun.

“Wow,” Steve stopped a few feet inside and several men, including Bucky, entered behind him, guns in hand. “I’m not here for a fight, if I can help it. I’m here for the rest of my take.”

“You already shot my men. I don’t owe you shit.” Vic hissed.

Steve chuckled and put his hands on his hips. He looked to the floor, the blood, the whimpers, then to you. He took his hat off and nodded in your direction.

“But I see they’re still alive.” Steve said. “And I got your cargo. More than willing to hand it over so long as I get my dues.”

“Maybe it wasn’t that skinny fucking ass that kept out of the war; maybe it was that peanut brain,” Vic said.

“I’m all for negotiating,” Steve said coolly. “But I’m gonna need you to calm down, Victor.”

“Calm down. I want my goods.” He insisted. “And my money back.”

“I don’t often give warnings,” Steve’s voice was even and quiet. Scarily calm. “But I will allow you one. I will finish what my men started and then I will burn this place with your bodies inside of it. Then I will hunt down every man who ever tied himself to your limping horse and put them next to you in the ashes.”

“Bull,” Vic scoffed.

“Jeffrey, by the bridge,” Steve said. “Friendly guy. Knows a lot about the city. Gave me an interesting little map. Looks like safe houses… in your neighbourhood. I don’t need to barter with you, Victor, but I am, because I can be nice. I prefer it over having to get mean.”

“Jeffrey,” Vic shook his head. “That shit.”

“Oh yes, if it wasn’t for his ties out west, I’d already have done him in myself but… he has his uses.”

Silence but for Richie groans and the squelch of flesh and blood. You glanced between the two men. Vic looked tired. You realised he was halfway drunk.

“How long? For the five I owe you?” He slowly lowered his gun.

“How long?” Steve smirked. “I’m not leaving without it.”

“Don’t keep my safe here. That’d be too obvious.” Vic said.

“No? Or maybe… you don’t got it?” Steve challenged. “Besides, I can’t trust you to send anyone for it because I can’t have them returning with more than the bills, can I?”

Victor was quiet and you glanced back at him. He looked lost. It was a look which had become common for him. As if he was far away.

“But…” Steve said. “There is value beyond paper.”

“Take a cut,” You intoned as Vic remained speechless. “That would more than even the debt.”

“And have to sell it myself? No.” He said. “But I do see something that I want.”

Steve’s heels tapped on the old floorboards and he stopped before you. You stared at him then looked around. You lifted a brow as you looked back to him. He touched your gun and you lowered it. You wanted to raise it again but Richie’s cries tugged at your ears. He took the pistol.

“I’ll take her,” He touched the lapel of your jacket.

“What? No, that’s not--”

“Fine,” Vic agreed a little too quickly. “All yours. But I’ll let you know, she’s a mouthy one.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve winked at you. “But you won’t get anywhere if you’re not bold.”

“You can’t--”

“I can,” Steve leaned in as he lowered his voice. “Because if you leave this bar without me, you won’t get far. I put the word out and you’re dead before nightfall…” He straightened your jacket. “But I prefer you living.”

He drew back and walked back to his men.

“Truck’s out front. All is accounted for. Ledger’s are balanced.” He said. “For now.”

You were jolted forward as Bucky grabbed your arm. You hadn’t seen him approach and he easily dragged you along as Steve left with his men in tow. You were numb but angry. You struggled until Bucky had your arm twisted behind your back.

“I told you,” He said. “He doesn’t like the back talk.”

🌆

You were silent as you peered through the windshield then glanced at the man in the driver’s seat. Bucky had wrestled you into the car himself but it had taken the flash of a muzzle to get you to stay.

Steve sat beside you in the back of the long car. He still had your pistol in hand and you watched as he emptied the bullets and dropped them in his pocket. He turned the gun over in his hand and ran his fingertip along the wood inlay carved with intricate grooves.

“This is a nice piece,” He said. 

He checked the chamber one last time and handed it back to you. You holstered the pistol and leaned into the door as you looked out onto the streets. The buildings were strangely familiar.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“You talking to me?” Steve countered. You turned to him and arched a brow. “Because when you are talking to me, you need to look at me, doll.”

“My name isn’t doll,” You crossed your arms. “This isn’t Brooklyn.”

“We’ll get to that,” He said. “You should be more than familiar with these slums.”

You squinted and shook your head.

“How did you--”

“I got eyes across the city and a woman like you sticks out,” He said. “Now, I’d like to forget our first meeting and start off on a better note.”

“Yeah? Do you usually buy people like race horses.” You scoffed.

“You’re a fine mare,” He grinned. “But that mouth does you a disservice.”

“So, what exactly do you want? You want me to say you’re a big man? Tell you you’re the boss?” You taunted. “I wonder how that ego fits in that body.”

“One thing at a time, doll,” He said.

“It’s not ‘doll’,” You growled. 

He chuckled and propped his elbow up on the door.

“My eyes have ears. They’ve told me a lot about you.” He said. “Must be hard with all the men back in town. I dare say, you might have been rooting for the other side.”

“Oh?” Your nostrils flared at the implication. “You running with those double-dealing bastards down in Chicago and you’re accusing me of sedition.”

“Chicago was a stepping stone,” He waved you off. “And a valuable ally. This world’s a whole lot bigger than five boroughs.”

The car stopped and you looked past Steve. Your building stood just outside his window and you sighed.

“No doubt bigger than you,” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dumb enough to think you’re just giving me a ride home…”

“We got ten minutes,” He checked his watch as he opened his door. “Grab what you need. I got a schedule to keep.”

He got out and you pushed open your own door. You rounded the front of the car and peered down the sidewalk. You could run. The thought was tempting, but if Steve could figure out where you lived in less than a day, he could likely suss you out just as easily.

You followed him up the cracked walk of the building and he opened the grated door for you. You shot him a look before you stepped through. You fished around for your keys and unlocked the second metal door. He trailed you up the narrow staircase and you came to your door among the row of cramped apartments.

You entered with him behind you. His footsteps were light and barely disturbed the creaky floorboards. He closed the door swiftly as you glanced around your tiny home. There wasn’t much to it but it was yours. 

He brushed past you and went to the small kitchen which was barely more than a sink and stove. He pulled open the drawers one at a time and shuffled through them.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

He held up a box of bullets and shook them.

“Grab some clothes,” He said as he continued his search. “And anything else you need.”

You let out a breath and rounded the threadbare sofa. You went to the small closet on the other side of the apartment and slid open the accordion door. Inside hung jackets in varying tones of monochrome and pants to match. Dress shirts and vests filled out the rest of the assortment. You sensed movement behind you as you reached for a hanger.

“That’s all you got?” He asked as he came up beside you and tutted. 

You looked over at him as he slid the hangers from side to side and examined your clothes.

“No, no, this won’t do,” He said. 

“What are you--”

“This,” He tugged on your sleeve. “Is doing you no favours. Not to worry, I’ll send for some nice skirts, a couple dresses--”

“No,” You said pointedly. “No, I won’t--”

“You’re not getting this, are you?” He sneered. “I don’t need some pussycat in a suit, I got more men than I can count.” You stared at him as foreboding roiled in your stomach. “What I need is a gal on my arm,” He reached out and touched your cheeks. “With a pretty smile,” His fingers crept down your neck and rested on your shoulders, “In a pretty little number.”

You grabbed his wrists and tried to shove him away. Despite his slim figure, he was stronger than you expected. He twisted his arms around and grabbed your wrists. He drew you close.

“If you were a man, you wouldn’t have left that warehouse,” He growled. “So consider yourself lucky…” His eyes drifted down. “The walk gives you away. Your hips…” He tilted his head from side to side. “The ass…”

“Get off of me,” You hissed and pulled away. He released you and you nearly stumbled.

“Don’t bother with the clothes,” He sighed. “But grab whatever else you need; hairbrush, soap… I guess you wouldn’t have lipstick, would you?”

“You really that hard-up for a girl?” You laughed dryly.

He smiled and licked his lips. “Women aren’t as complicated as they pretend to be. Not if you got your pockets full. So no, not hard-up for a girl… just you, doll.”

“Not doll,” You huffed and spun away from him. His low laughter made your lip curl.

“Five minutes,” He warned.

[send-me-your-hcs]

okay. for some reason mob boss tony kidnaps peter and it turns out peter is a little. (he gets so scared and couldn't help but get into the littlespace as a defence mechanism???) and tony freaks out because he doesn't know how to take care of a little.

This is literally so funny to me. Like just the thought of Tony going from “You belong to me now, baby boy” to “oh God why is it making that noise, Happy make it stop” is so fucking hilarious?? But damn if I’m not intrigued.

…

......am I doing it?

…….fuck me I’m doing it. Damn you, anon.

Warnings: mentions of human trafficking and abuse, ageplay, underage (but Peter’s age is unspecified and can be envisioned however you’d like).

The compound crumbles in less than an hour.

For all his bravado, Justin Hammer goes down almost too easily. Tony feels tempted to whistle as he walks through the compound’s warehouse, stepping over the slain bodies of Hammer’s underpaid cronies.

His team is just finishing up the last of the clean-up. The occasional gunshot echoes off the walls as Tony takes stock of all the merchandise he just inherited, debating what to do with Hammer once they get home. It almost feels like a waste of effort and time to torture the man before killing him, even with all the trouble he stirred up with the police. Tony’s tempted to just put a bullet in his brain and be done with it.

But, well. He isn’t called The Merchant of Death for nothing, and he does have a certain image to maintain. Plus, with Hammer keeping him company tonight, he’ll at least be partially spared from the usual tedium that comes with being the biggest mafia don on the east coast.

It’s as he’s wondering just what exactly he should do to Hammer first that Happy finally arrives, looking a little disheveled, but no worse for wear. “Boss,” he says, stumbling over the array of corpses with a muted curse, “compound’s clear. We’re ready to pack this all up and move out.”

Tony wipes the toe of his shoe off on some unnamed man’s bullethole-patterned sleeve. “Good. And Hammer?”

“On his way back to base as we speak, sir. I’ll have him ready for you when you arrive.”

Tony nods in approval, then notices the pronounced, telltale crease in Happy’s brow. Always a good sign.

“Something else you wanna tell me, Hap?”

Happy grimaces, deepening his forehead wrinkle. “There was an unexpected...uh...hiccup, sir.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow at the other man, equal parts curious and incredulous. “A hiccup,” he repeats, slowly, watching Happy’s face grow increasingly sour. “What sort of hiccup?”

“The, um...the teenaged boy kind?”

---

There are only two bodies littering the floor outside Hammer’s office: his enforcer, and his bodyguard. Happy scowls at the sight and starts clumsily rolling them out of the way, glaring at Bucky while he does.

Bucky smirks at Happy, pointedly not moving to help clear away the bodies lying between them. “Kid hasn’t stopped crying since you took Hammer,” he says to him, standing in the doorway like a sentry.

“Probably in relief,” Tony says, straightening his tie as Happy finishes kicking over the second body. “Who is he? Do we know?”

“My guess is a trafficking vic,” Bucky says with a shrug. “He’s got bruises. Seems kinda...out of it.”

Tony hums. “Well, I suppose we’re about to find out.”

Bucky steps aside and Tony strolls into the room, sparing a disinterested glance at Hammer’s shameful choice of interior decorating. The throw pillows are haphazardly strewn across the floor from the sofa; one of the grommet drapes is missing from the window. It’s a mess, but that’s not entirely unexpected.

Happy follows close behind him as he makes his way to the corner of the room, where the soft sound of pitiful sobs is coming from underneath the large desk. Tony peeks his head beneath the desktop just enough to confirm the kid doesn’t have a loaded weapon before he crouches down.

The little thing is balled up tight, wrapped in the missing window drapery and clutching one of the stolen throw pillows like his life depends on it. He seems naked underneath it, which confirms Bucky’s human trafficking theory and gives Tony almost an instant headache. There are bruises spanning the boy’s wrists and ankles that look new and swollen, standing out brightly against the boy’s very pale skin.

Tony clears his throat. “As comfortable as that looks, perhaps I could convince you to stand up so we can chat face to face, hm?”

The kid flinches, whimpering into the pillow he has pressed over his face. Tony sighs like an overburdened parent and says, “I don’t have all day. You have till the count of three to come out on your own before I come in there and make you. You hear me? One. Two…”

The boy’s soft-looking head of curls slowly lifts, and the next thing Tony knows, he’s staring into the biggest pair of honey-brown eyes he’s ever seen. They’re red-rimmed and brimming with tears, swollen from how long the kid’s been crying, but they stay obediently and nervously fixed on Tony as the boy slowly uncurls his limbs and crawls out from under the desk.

Tony’s somewhat surprised that the boy clings to his pillow religiously enough to let the curtain slip down to his waist, held up by only a single tiny, shaking fist. The boy won’t spare either hand to hold the drape up properly so it pools around his hips, revealing his slim, narrow torso, his perfectly unblemished skin.

There aren’t any other bruises, though more could be hiding under the curtain. Tony appraises the kid for a long, tense moment before he asks, “What’s your name?”

Thin arms squeeze the throw pillow tight enough to strangle it. The boy is still looking up at him with that damned pair of Disney eyes. He hasn’t stopped crying.

“‘m Peter,” he mumbles, sniffling.

His voice is cute. A little high for a kid his age, but in an endearing way. “Peter.” Tony nods, pleased. “I’m Tony. Tell me, Pete, how long have you been here?”

Peter glances at Happy, then at Bucky in the doorway, before shyly lowering his gaze to the pillow in his arms. He hugs it tighter and says, “Um...don’t...don’t know what day it is.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Happy says, sounding put out in that wonderful way he always does. “June 16th.”

The boy blinks, looking nervous and unsure as he says, “Since...two days.”

“Okay,” Tony says, “And where were you before that?”

Peter’s shoulders droop. He looks down at the floor with wet eyes, mumbling, “With bad guys.”

It takes everything Tony has not to smirk. “Bad guys? Worse than these ones?”

Peter nods. “They took me,” he says, his little voice completely heartbroken, “from Miss Jones’s place. They waited till she was asleep and they took me. S’been…” Confusion washes over his face, like he’s trying to access some memory that isn’t there. “It was winter. There was still snow outside.”

Before Tony can decide how to respond to that, Happy tactfully pipes up with, “Who the hell is Miss Jones?”

“Michelle Jones Adoption Center,” Bucky says, reading aloud as he stares down at his phone. “Looks like a non-profit adoption agency. Website says the founder also runs a foster home. Is that the one?”

All three men turn to look at Peter, who nods, staring at Bucky hopefully. “Uh-huh. They sent me there when my aunt and uncle died.”

Part of Tony is scared to ask. “What happened to your parents?”

“They died when I was little.”

“Yikes,” Happy says quietly under his breath, though not quietly enough. Tony gives him a reproachful look, then turns back to the boy, whose face is once again soaked in tears, clinging to his throw pillow like it’s a teddy bear.

Tony bites the bullet and says, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, kid, but now that you’ve seen our faces, I can’t let you go back to Miss Jones’ place.”

If the kid’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps staring down at his pillow, letting his tears drip down off his cheeks and soak into the fabric. “I just...I want…” His lower lip wobbles, and then the sobs come. “I don’t know. I don’t know. ‘m so - so c-confused. I just want my D-Daddy.”

For the first time in longer than Tony can remember, he’s at a loss for words.

“Want Daddy,” Peter says again, babbling, like a child. The crying is really doing nothing for Tony’s budding headache. “‘m scared.”

“I’m praying this isn’t what it sounds like, but, please tell me Justin Hammer wasn’t your Daddy. Ugh, Jesus, I’m never going to get the taste of those words out of my mouth. Blech.”

Thankfully, Peter shakes his head no, looking just as disgusted as Tony feels. Thank God. “I don’t...I don’t think so. I-I don’t know. They said I had to be good for Daddy. They said I couldn’t go home unless it was with h-him.”

Bucky jokingly says, “I’ll be his Daddy,” but he mutes himself when Tony lifts a hand to silence him, before turning to give Happy a helpless look. The man stares back, then silently gestures to his gun, the question clear as day on his face. Tony immediately shakes his head, waving the man’s hand away from his holster with a steely glare.

Okay, so. That’s interesting. Apparently mercy-killing the boy isn’t an option. Giving him back to gentle-hearted, law-abiding-citizen Miss Jones isn’t an option, either.

So where does that leave him?

Tony watches the boy cry a moment longer before resignedly asking, “Peter, how old are you?”

Peter wipes his wet face on the pillow, refusing to let neither it nor the curtain go long enough to use his hands. “Don’t...know,” he says, after a moment, his brows furrowed like he’s thinking it over hard. “They s-said that was up to my Daddy.”

Stellar. Great big help, that is.

Sighing, Tony rubs his temple to soothe his headache, taking a moment to really look at the boy in front of him. Peter is...well. It’s fair to say he isn’t unattractive. Hammer’s poor taste in interior design apparently doesn’t extend to sex slaves.

Tony’s done horrible, truly vile things in his career, but children are usually where he draws his thin, arguably nonexistent moral line. They’re rarely intelligent enough to interest him in any fashion, but Peter - for what it’s worth - has managed to pique his interest just enough that he finds himself actually opening his mouth and saying:

“Peter. Since I can’t let you go back to your foster home, tell me: would you rather come home with me instead?”

He lets the ‘instead of killing you’ go unsaid, since the boy is already having trouble wiping away his tears. Peter stares up at him with a frightened, mistrustful look that makes Tony’s hands twitch. There’s innocence in those eyes, sure. But there’s brightness too. For all the babbling and childish baby-speak Peter’s given him, Tony gets the very distinct impression that he’s far from stupid.

“With you?” the boy asks, hardly louder than a whisper. His tone is soft and wary, sounding every bit the child he believes he is. “You...you’ll be my Daddy?”

It’s a strange thing, to be fifty years old and still learning such intimate things about himself, like how fucked up he is for liking it when this sweet, baby-faced teenage boy calls him Daddy in his soft, childish little voice. Part of him can’t wait to turn around and see the looks on Happy and Bucky’s faces; the rest of him doesn’t want to take his eyes off Peter for even a moment.

He nods, giving Peter what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he steps forward, offering his hand for the boy to take. “That’s right, honey,” he says, his tone syrupy sweet. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Daddy’s here now.”

Peter looks between Tony’s outstretched hand and his smiling face, deliberating on what they both know is his only real option. Finally, he lets the curtain drop from around his hips to pool at his feet, revealing his slender legs and freshly-shaven pubic area. Tony’s brain momentarily goes white and fuzzy until Peter’s slim, soft hand hesitantly takes his own, still clutching that hideous throw pillow to his chest like a teddy bear.

Tony grants himself another long look over Peter’s gorgeous frame as he slips his suit jacket off and drapes it over the boy’s shoulders. Peter smiles gratefully and pushes his arms through the sleeves, his face darkening with a blush as Tony starts fastening the buttons. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Fuck. Forcing himself to swallow the growl building in his throat, Tony takes the boy’s hand again and leads him to the door. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

Peter clings to him as they step through the threshold. Well, Tony thinks to himself, his hand tightening around Peter’s own, at least things won’t be boring from now on.

[seriously-smitten]

When did you know

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“When did you know you loved Mummy?”

Remus looked up from the Daily Prophet and down to the seven years old boy at his side. Twinkling blue eyes watched him patiently, filled to the brim with the typical curiosity of a child. He gave an overly thoughtful hum and Teddy rocked on his heels in anticipation for his answer.

“That’s a hard question Ted,” Remus admitted.

Teddy deflated instantly, hair darkening to a stormy day gray and bottom lip slipping into a pout. Remus fought back a chuckle at his son’s dramatic response and lifted the boy onto his lap. He poked Teddy gently against his nose and he giggled, hair turning back to his favorite vibrant turquoise.

“Why are you asking, hm?” Remus asked rubbing a thumb under Teddy’s eye, across the dapple of freckles. He observed the smudge of yellow paint he had wiped off and Teddy’s cheeks turned pink.

Remus raised an eyebrow and Teddy wiggled free off of his father’s lap. Tonks was walking into the kitchen and he watched him maneuver quickly around his mother who stumbled. She shouted at the flash of blue hair zipping by her legs.

“Edward Remus Lupin what did I say about running in the house?!” Dora yelled.

The resounding slam of a door upstairs was her reply and she huffed, readjusting the laundry basket on her hip. Remus chuckled and cleared a spot for her to place the basket on the table.

“I swear he’s starting to listen to us less and less every day,” Dora sighed folding the laundry.

“I still think he’s the best behaved amongst the children,” Remus said with a proud tone as he helped his wife fold clothing.

She smiled at a pair of small trousers pulled from the pile and her nose wrinkled, “He is the oldest, but I don’t know though, Victoire is fairly mature as well.”

Remus’ head perked up and raised his eyebrows. Dora looked at him like he had sprouted a second head, “Sweetheart?”

Remus smiled to himself then, shaking his head and waving his hand.

“Nothing, love. Nothing at all.”

- 6 years later -

Remus knocked on the door in front of him a second time and waited. It swung inward as he went to knock for the third, and Teddy greeted him. Pounding music, concealed by a silencing charm to his bedroom now spilt into the hallway. Remus flicked his wand and the familiar lyrics of one of Dora’s old Weird Sisters Christmas edition albums cut off. Teddy frowned for a moment but shrugged and stepped back into his room.

“What’s up Da? Could you hear the music? Coulda sworn Mum reinforced the charm the other day,” Teddy said.

Remus looked about the room, always intrigued by some new drawing or painting Teddy hung about. The blue walls could barely be seen and he eyed the stack of sketch books leaning precariously in the corner. Teddy’s school trunk sat open at the foot of his bed, still packed for when he returned after holiday.

Teddy plopped back down into the chair at his desk. He ruffled his hair and Remus sat down on the bed across from him. His bones ached in protest and he sighed rubbing at his wrist. Teddy frowned at him but Remus waved his hand, “You know I’m fine. Your mother’s clumsiness has just rubbed off on me. Sprained my wrist is all.”

Teddy nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. Remus looked up towards the ceiling where the drawings started to encroach. There was this beautiful circle of papers magically attached to one another above Teddy’s bed. Each picture had a moon phase and a family of three wolves that moved from one page to the next in the moon cycle. Now the family of wolves was sitting looking up at a freshly waning moon. It was a wonderful little enchantment thought of and drawn by Teddy and charmed by Dora and Sirius.

“Da? Everything alright?” Teddy asked.

Remus looked back at Teddy and felt the clenching in this chest that had begun recently. He looked so grown up now and he wished time would just stand still, just for a little bit. Now, at thirteen years old, he was taller than Dora and an inch or two away from Remus’ nose. It seemed only yesterday that his little boy was still crashing into his shins and tugging at the ends of his robes.

“Your Mum and I invited some guests for Christmas Eve dinner. I expect James, Albus and Fred will want to bunk with you,” Remus said.

“Oh everyone’s coming? Brilliant!” Teddy grinned.

“Yes - including Bill and Fleur...”

Teddy’s grin vanished and instead of blushing, Remus watched Teddy’s hair turn to the same pink his mother’s did.

“Oh so L-Louis will be coming...”

Remus nodded.

“A-and Dominque?”

Remus nodded again and Teddy swallowed.

“Victoire too?”

“I do believe that if Bill and Fleur are coming then their children will also be,” Remus grinned.

“Right. Yes. Wonderful. I, um, I have to start tidying up then I suppose!” Teddy announced standing and pulling at his pink hair which he failed to notice had changed.

Remus reached out grabbing Teddy’s wrist and he looked over to his father who nodded to the spot next to him on the bed. Teddy sat beside him and Remus interlaced their fingers, staring down at their hands.

“I remember one time you asked me when I knew that I loved you mother.”

Teddy looked up at him with those same curious blue eyes framed by freckles. Remus squeezed his hand and shrugged.

“I never really thought about it. There was never a moment that I could pinpoint. I fell in love with your mum without ever realizing I had. Loving your mother is as easy as breathing to me,” Remus said with a fond smile at the wedding band catching the morning sunlight.

Teddy, yet having his question answered, seemed even more disappointed. Remus watched his face fall and his shoulders sag. Hair fading to that melancholy gray. Remus looked at him sadly as he leaned against his arm, head cushioned on his shoulder and grip tightening on his hand.

“But I thought you had doubts...”

Remus felt a twist in his gut and his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on his son’s hand. Remembering the awful ordeal of being honest with Teddy about their past. Watching hurt flicker across his eyes and knowing that for a moment there had been doubt about Remus’ love for him. He shook his head a little to try and clear his mind of those thoughts, “I never once wavered in my love for your mother or for you. I made wrong and foolish decisions thinking they were the right ones. You are both my greatest loves. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He kissed the top of Teddy’s head as his son nodded.

“I think - no, I know I fancy Vic. I just don’t know if I love her,” Teddy sighed.

Remus laughed pulling his hand away and instead wrapping his arm around Teddy‘s shoulders, “Edward-“

His nose scrunched in displeasure, “Dad!”

Remus ignored him and carried on, “You are thirteen years old. You don’t have to decide what you’re having for supper tomorrow, let alone decide if you’re in love with Victoire Weasley. Understand?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Teddy’s lip and he nodded, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Thanks da.”

“Of course. Although I must say she is very pretty and very sweet so do try not mess things up.”

“Da! Pressure!”

Remus barked with vicious laughter as Teddy’s hair turned bright pink again and he shoved his face into his hands. Remus ruffled the hair on the back of his head and Teddy swatted at him. The older wizard stood and gave his son’s room another look around while Ted grumbled on the bed. His eyes settled on one drawing stuck about waist size next to Teddy’s desk.

It was nothing compared to the other drawings he produced now, after years of practice. However, what made it stand out was the girl in the drawing, who was holding hands with a blue haired boy, and had bright yellow hair.

Remus’s eyes crinkled warmly. Teddy finished his muttering and was focusing on his now purple hair, trying to get it back to his favorite shade. Nose scrunched up, and lips pouted in concentration, all Remus saw was Nymphadora in his boy.

He gave Teddy’s shoulder a squeeze and turned to go. He stumbled forward for a moment as Teddy collided into his back and wrapped his arms around him. He could feel his nose poking between his shoulder blades as Teddy spoke, “I love you Da.”

“Love you too, son.”

[ellie-winthrope]

An Echo of Innocence - [Victor]

A glimpse of Victor and MC’s childhood that was inspired by episode 7 of EVOL X LOVE anime. 

Word Count: 2089 words

Even as a child, Victor was mature and rarely showed his emotions. Despite being the only heir of a wealthy family, he never discriminated against others and regarded everyone equally. Thus, he wasn’t lacking in the number of friends.

However, it wasn’t until he had met her that he realized that the friends he had weren’t genuine. Once he realized that, he didn’t hesitate at all in breaking ties with them. After all, being alone would have been better than being surrounded by people who spouted flatteries straight to his face but badmouthed him behind his back.

Even so, Victor was not alone.

Ever since he presented the little girl with his homemade pudding as an apology gift for accidentally ruining her sandcastle at the sandbox, she had been chasing after him whenever she saw him at the park. He wouldn’t consider her as a friend. If anything, she was more like a ...  duckling? Honestly, Victor didn’t know how to define their relationship.

If he could have it his way, he would have preferred to have nothing more to do with the girl after handing her the apology gift. However, it seemed inevitable as he would have to pass by the park daily on his way home. Moreover, it would have been ridiculous for him, an eleven-year-old, to deliberately take a long detour home just to avoid meeting the five-year-old girl. So, instead of avoiding her, Victor continued to pass by the park like he normally would.

Every time, it was the girl who noticed his presence first and came running to his side when he stood at the entrance of the park. On the rare occasions when she didn’t appear, Victor would be the one who went into the park to look for her out of concern. Although he found it uncomfortable and annoying to be followed around and be bombarded with the girl’s endless chattering, he didn’t brush her off since he was hesitant to leave such a young girl alone in the park, especially when there have been several cases of missing children on the news recently.

Thus, Victor always ended up accompanying the girl at the park until her father came to fetch her home in the evening. Even though the thought had crossed his mind more than once, Victor never probed into the reasons the girl’s father had allowed the girl to be on her own in the park until late in the evening every day. He wasn’t the type of person who would pry into another person’s family affairs and he definitely wouldn’t want to get involved with things that had nothing to do with him.

Well, the little girl was an exception for the latter.

Without him realizing it, their daily encounters at the park had become a set routine for Victor.

“Brother Vic! Brother Vic!”

The five-year-old had hastily climbed up the bench that he was sitting on while waving a sketch paper towards him with an excited grin on her face.

“I just finished! Look! Look!”

“Okay, calm down. You don’t have to be so loud. I am not deaf, you know,” said Victor in an even tone, which was neither condescending or annoyed, as he reached out and took the sketch paper from her.

Having misunderstood Victor’s words as denigration, the girl stuck her tongue out at him before turning away with a huff and crossed her arms over her chest. As he glanced at the girl from the corner of his eyes, Victor felt nothing but resignation. Being the older one between them, it would be immature of him to hold her childish actions against her. With a deep sigh that didn’t befit an eleven-year-old, Victor diverted his attention back to the sketch paper in his hands.

It was one of the many scribbles that the girl loved to make. Most of the scribbles that he had seen before this were random and unidentifiable, which constantly made him question the girl’s artistic sense. Either the girl’s imagination was far too wild for Victor to fathom or she was just terrible in drawing things. For her benefit, Victor chose to believe in the former.

Surprisingly, this time, he was able to make out the details of the pencil drawing in his hands and it caused one of his eyebrows to arch up questioningly. He stared at the drawing for a little while longer before he decided to voice out the question that was lingering on his mind at that moment.

“You drew me?”

The question was spoken with an evident mix of disbelief and surprise.

In response, the girl had turned to look at him begrudgingly with a pout on her face. Since Victor’s attention was still fully focused on the drawing, she observed his expression carefully for a moment from the side before she eventually spoke.

“I didn’t just draw Brother Vic.”

The bitterness in her tone was hard to miss, a sign that she was still unhappy with what he had said earlier. Victor, who had noticed this, was about to retort her by calling her out on her pettiness, but he decided against it after a moment of thought. By calling her petty, it would only anger her and cause her to start a silent war with him, which would be a complete waste of time. Then again, he still couldn’t help but to jibe at her in another way as retaliation for her bitterness towards him.

“I noticed. It isn’t difficult to guess who is the tiny stick figure with a skirt and a stupid smile.”

As he had expected, the girl had glared at him instantly with pouty lips. Victor was tempted to laugh at her predictable reaction, but he held back and continued, “But why is there a funny-looking tall hat on this drawing of me? And is that a plate of pudding on one of the stick hands?”

To be honest, if it weren’t for three clues, Victor wouldn’t have guessed that the stick figure in the drawing was himself. The first clue was the fact that there was a slightly taller stick figure between the two inside the drawing, while the second clue was the expression on the taller stick figure’s face. It simply consisted of three straight lines, which can be deduced as nothing but a deadpan face. Last but not least, said stick figure was unmistakably carrying a plate of pudding.

Putting these three tell-tale signs together, coupled with his partial understanding of the way the girl’s mind works, it was plain obvious that she was implying the taller stick figure inside the drawing to be him. However, he didn’t feel pleased at all in making the correct guess. In fact, Victor wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be offended to know that those three tell-tale signs were the girl’s only impression of him.

Actually, the pudding that he had given her as an apology gift was his first attempt at cooking. Since he wasn’t sure of the outcome, he had made two servings at that time, with one for himself to sample. He didn’t know if the pudding would fit the girl’s taste, but he was confident that it was edible at the very least.

Before giving the girl the pudding, Victor had even thought of several possible outcomes and mentally prepared himself for it. The one thing he never anticipated was to be moved by her reactions when she tasted it. The way her bright brown eyes had crinkled up in delight and the way her smile gradually spread across her face at her first bite of the sweet dessert...

“It’s yummy!”

He never knew that having someone fully enjoyed something that he made by himself could be so fulfilling. It was a first experience for Victor. Even though he didn’t admit it, he found the sight of her contented face when she was enjoying the pudding to be pleasant. Therefore, he continued making pudding for her when she requested it or whenever he felt like it.

Still, for the girl to love his pudding so much that her impression of him was related to the dessert was something beyond his expectations. All Victor could think of her at that moment was...

What a glutton.

He turned to look at the little girl who was currently glaring at him with puffed-up cheeks. Despite her evident display of dissatisfaction, he could tell that she was actually mulling over whether to answer his questions about the drawing or to give him the silent treatment. It was a brief battle, though, as in the end, her enthusiasm in explaining her drawing to him had won over her indignation.

Not that Victor hadn’t anticipated that.

“I saw on TV that people who cook yummy food always wear a tall white hat.”

“You mean a chef?”

“Yeah! That’s what daddy said… I think.”

At hearing her uncertain afterthought, Victor was tempted to facepalm himself. However, he gestured for her to continue with her explanation instead.

“So, since Brother Vic makes the best pudding in the world-”

“It’s not that great.”

“It is the best!”

The girl had spoken with the same conviction as that time when she had declared to him that she knew he had brought her pudding as the apology gift and that she could see glimpses of the future. In the face of that same obstinacy, how could he retort her? So, he kept silent and once again, allowed her to pick up where she had left off in the conversation.

“Since Brother Vic make the best pudding, Brother Vic is the same as those people who cook yummy food on TV.”

“So, that is why you drew that … hat?”

The girl nodded eagerly.

“Then, the house, the table and the chairs?”

The girl seemed to brighten up instantly when he mentioned those details. Scooting closer to his side on the bench, she pointed at the house, then the table and the chairs while saying, “This is Brother Vic’s restaurant!”

For someone who was rarely surprised, Victor’s eyes had widened at hearing her words.

“Do you know what is a restaurant?”

Although he knew that she must have been aware of the meaning of the word to have drawn those related objects in her drawing, he had spoken out the question involuntarily, out of surprise.

“Of course I know! It’s a place that many people go to eat yummy food!” Looking at him, the girl had then grinned widely. “Brother Vic’s pudding is so yummy! So, Brother Vic must open a restaurant!”

It was a silly and simplistic idea of an innocent five-year-old, but Victor felt as though he had been given the best compliment and encouragement that he had ever received. He couldn’t help but to smile faintly. The smile had merely lasted for a brief moment, though, as he soon reverted back to his usual deadpan expression and derisive manner of speaking.

“It is already troublesome enough to make pudding for one dummy…and now you want me to open a restaurant? You must think that I have a lot of free time.”

Victor sighed and placed the sketch paper on his lap before shaking his head helplessly with his eyes closed.

“Besides, who would open a restaurant just to serve pudding? It’s impractical. The business would close down as soon as it’s open.”

Victor didn’t deliberately say those words to be mean to her. Instead, he was merely stating the facts because in the end, ideals are far different from reality. Despite being a child, Victor was well-aware of that, or to be precise, he had been taught to accept that at an early age.

Even so, the little girl was different from him. Younger than him by six years, she was still brimming with innocence and hope. She wasn’t someone that would easily be discouraged by his bluntness.

“It won’t close down! Because no matter what, I will definitely be your number one kuz-kaz-to-”

“It’s cus-to-mer, dummy.”

“I am not a dummy!”

“Whatever.”

“Meanie gloomy face!”

After a silent stare-down between them, they both turned away from each other at the same time, in which Victor had then taken that opportunity to chuckle inwardly.

As an only child of the family, Victor couldn’t imagine how it was like to have siblings.

However, through the time that he had spent at the park with this cheeky little girl, he had an inkling.

Perhaps, this is how it is like to have a little sister.

[rosevanhelsing]

Wendigo

Chap. 7

Vic rang the bell of her old house. Linda opened the door and said:

- Holy gracious God. Vic, darling, but what happened to you? Come on enter.- she said hugging her

Vic only told Linda that a man had attacked her, and that she believed he was the same guy who had killed Margaret Leigh. She didn't tell him anything about Manx's involvement because she believed Linda wouldn't understand Vic seeking help from the man who had killed Chris MCQueen in cold blood.

Vic showered and dressed, had something to eat and called Tabitha but she only told him that the Wendigo had attacked her and that she could give him a physical description of her.

- I will send you to our cartoonist for a robot portrait- Tabitha said and I will send someone to retrieve your things at the motel  but you know we will have to check the prints first.

- Do not bother yourself. I already draw it for you. Thanks Tabitha.

Vic had been portraying James while he was speaking. Then Vic called Lou and told him about the attack

Holy God, Vic. What a relief you're okay. How did you save yourself?

- Rather, who saved me.

- Manx

-Yes. And he took me to Mom's house.

- Vic. Now listen to me, my brave Jedi. I know Maggie never failed with her predictions and that if you want to beat the Wendigo you have to enlist the help of that son of a bitch Charlie Manx. But never forget who Charlie Manx is and what he's capable of. He was about to kill you several times, he stole Wayne, whom you were able to rescue by a miracle, and he killed your father. If things go wrong for him, he will abandon you to your fate.

- No, I'm sure he won't - Vic thought but she said- I know, Lou. I know better than anyone. That's just a job for me. I'm going to kill that bastard Wendigo

 When Vic hung up she heard Linda calling her from her old room, she went upstairs and Linda said

- I was sorting things and I found those books of yours. Do you think Wayne would like them? I think one of them was given to you by your father. If you don't want them I will donate them to charity or to a school library.

Vic glanced over at the books until she saw the one Chris McQueen had given her, nor did she remember that she had it. She was surprised by the title:

"Legends of Native American Peoples"

Without knowing why, she Vic she quickly leafed through the book until she found the legend of the Wendigo and read it and then she understood where James had gotten the idea for his nickname. What she was not clear is  James was a creative soul or not. She took the book and put it in a backpack along with a change of clothes. In the afternoon Tabitha came and brought her luggage and coin purse and Vic went for her Triumph. At night when her mother was sleeping, Vic got out of her, got on her motorcycle and drove away from home to the Shortcut Bridge and from there to the Night Road

Meanwhile Charlie had gone to his old shelters and removed any traces that could give a clue to where he currently was. Manx was not so naive as not to assume that the Wendigo was going to look for him somewhere and that he would try to locate his safe havens to track him down. Charlie had the advantage that no one except Bing Partridge who was in prison knew where  these shelters were. So even if the Wendigo found out that Bing had worked for him and wanted to visit him in jail, the information that asshole Bing could give to Wendigo about him would be of no use to the Wendigo. Once he finished the job he went to the Night Road

[softlass27]

Robert Week 2020 Day 3: Family A family dinner goes awry when revelations about the Sugden brothers' past come to light.

FYI, this is set in a slightly AU version of husbands era where Andy returned at some point and is living in Emmerdale again (I brought Adam back too, because why not).

Also, this fic refers to an old storyline that I must have watched but have no real memory of, considering how long ago it aired. So I've had to rely on gifsets and the Emmerdale Wiki, which you can see here:

https://emmerdale.fandom.com/wiki/Stephen_Butler https://isabellaofparma.tumblr.com/post/176241877331 https://robsugdens.tumblr.com/post/176241303211/i-didnt-have-it-easy

On a warm Saturday evening in August, the Sugdens and their other halves all gather round Diane’s table for their tea. Family time still isn’t a particularly common occurrence for them, but Diane and Victoria insist on it every now and then, and they mostly manage to get through the odd meal without any drama these days.

So as Aaron sits in his usual spot next to Robert and Seb, he doesn’t expect much more from the next couple of hours than some small talk with his in-laws over homemade shepherd’s pie and apple crumble.

Andy and Victoria are both in a nostalgic mood, it seems, tossing childhood memories back and forth as they eat. Nothing too heavy, thankfully, just funny – mostly farming-related – anecdotes from their youth.

At least, Andy, Vic, Diane and Doug seem to find them funny. Adam smiles and laughs easily along with them, but Aaron’s mostly left nonplussed. Honestly, the only thing getting him through it is the eye roll and small kill-me-now grin Robert shoots him whenever they catch each other’s eye. Aaron’s husband is clearly just as bored by the farm talk as he is, only chiming in when someone addresses him directly.

How many stories can you possibly tell about runaway cows, anyway?

As the first hour drags by and some of them start helping themselves to seconds, talk turns to Butlers farm and how the Sugdens had come to take it over back in the day.

“Who were the actual Butlers, anyway?” Adam asks, shovelling a forkful of mashed potato in his mouth. “Don’t think my mum ever said when we moved in there.”

“Just a bloke who was getting too old to keep up with things,” Andy replies with a shrug. “Will or Wilf, I think. And he had a son, too, about our age, right Rob?”

Robert nods as he wipes Seb’s mouth (he’s going through an incredibly messy phase of insisting on feeding himself) but doesn’t add anything.

“Drawing a blank on his name, though – ”

“Steve,” Robert interrupts quietly, turning back to his plate.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” Andy snaps his fingers as the memory comes back to him. “Steve… dunno what happened to him. We were mates for a bit but he moved away in the end. We’d fallen out, can’t remember why but – ”

Robert’s scoff cuts Andy off. Everyone pauses and turns to him as he finally lifts his head to stare at a confused-looking Andy.

“What?”

“Are you kidding me?” Robert asks incredulously.

Victoria tenses and glances warily between the two of them. “What’s the matter, Robert?”

“Yeah, what’s your problem?” Andy says with a frown.

“You seriously don’t remember what happened with Steve?”

“No… ” Andy’s bewilderment is quickly turning to annoyance. “Who cares, it was like, a million years ago. Do you remember everyone you fell out with when we were kids? Saying that, it’d be a pretty long list for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Boys, come on now,” Doug rumbles quietly. “Let’s not spoil the evening.”

Robert stays silent, but Aaron can see he’s biting the inside of his jaw. A telltale sign that he’s upset but trying to keep it together. He rests a hand on Robert's tense thigh under the table, ready to jump in to his defence if needed.

“Well, share with the class,” Andy drawls, ignoring Doug’s words with the beginnings of a smirk. Aaron has no idea what this is about, but he wants to punch it off his face. “What was it, then?”

Robert hesitates, eyes darting to Seb – who’s thankfully still oblivious to the tension – before shaking his head and stabbing at his food with his fork.

“What, nothin’ to say?”

“No.”

“Maybe we should just change the – ” Diane begins, but Andy speaks over her.

“No, come on, he’s started now. Spit it out, Rob, whatever it is that's got your back up.”

“I said no.”

No one else at the table would have caught it, but Aaron hears the wobble in Robert’s voice. He tightens the hand on his husband's thigh, trying to keep him calm, remind him that he's not alone at the table.

“What d’you bring it up for, then?” Andy isn’t taking no for an answer, apparently, and he’s starting to get on Aaron’s last nerve.  “God, you always do this, always have to turn everything into some big drama, don't you? Come on, what was it that was so bad that – ”

“You found out Steve was gay,” Robert cuts Andy off, voice low but unmistakably clear.

Silence rings over the table as everyone freezes on the spot. Adam’s fork hovers in the air for a moment, before he sets it back on the plate with a clatter.

“Or, you heard rumours that he was gay, from that Ali kid. I dunno if he actually was, but that was good enough for you. You heard the rumours, you believed them – started passing them on to other people too, if I remember right – and after that, you wanted nothing to do with him.”

Aaron’s heart is thumping loudly in his chest, a familiar anger and defensiveness – for Robert, for himself, for this Steve kid – surging through him like wildfire. He watches Andy open his mouth uncertainly before closing it again, the irritation vanished from his face and replaced with shock. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“I asked you what the big deal was, why you cared so much if Steve was gay,” Robert continues with an air of apparent nonchalance, though Aaron knows better than to fall for the act, he knows Robert's fuming. Hurting.

“You said he shouldn’t have kept it hidden from everyone, you had a right to know what sort of person you’d been hanging out with. You were also very keen to make sure everyone else knew that just because you’d spent time with him, that didn’t make you ‘queer’, as you put it.”

Diane and Doug both look on uncomfortably, while Victoria brings a hand to her mouth in shock.

“Andy, you didn’t… ” she whispers with wide eyes. Adam lays a hand on her shoulder, looking almost as taken aback by the situation as her.

“I… ” Andy flounders helplessly, head whipping to his sister then back to Robert.

“Steve ended up moving away from the village in the end,” Robert finishes, pushing his plate away and tossing his napkin on to the table. “I guess all the shit he got over it – the name-calling and bullying – became too much for him to cope with, so he got the hell out of there. And no one ever mentioned him again.”

“Robert… ”

“Any of this ringing any bells for you, Andy?”

Andy gulps loudly before giving the slightest of nods.

“I – I forgot.”

“That’s nice for you,” Robert lets out a hollow laugh, before abruptly pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “Sorry Diane, dinner’s been great but I don’t really fancy pudding. Lost my appetite.”

He scoops Seb out of his high chair and strides out of the room with a backward glance. Aaron rises quickly, muttering his thanks to Diane for the meal and following him, only stopping to throw a hard glare back in Andy’s direction. When Andy’s eyes meet his, he cringes and shrinks back in his seat.

Good.

*

“S’been a while since I’ve sat in on some proper Sugden drama,” Aaron say lightly, passing Robert a brew and Seb his sippy cup of juice.

Robert lets out a small huff but doesn’t speak, silently watching Seb playing with his toy cars on the rug. He hasn’t said much of anything since they left Diane’s and Aaron hasn’t pushed him. Not until now, anyway.

Careful not to spill their teas, he sinks onto the sofa and nudges Robert gently, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. Robert glances at him before sighing heavily.

“Probably gonna get an earful off Diane later,” he eventually mutters. “Causin’ a scene, spoiling a family meal again.”

“Somehow I don’t think she’ll blame you for this one. And if she does, she’ll have me to deal with.”

That gets him a tiny smile, at least.

“Gonna tell her off, are you?”

“I ain’t scared of her.”

Robert chuckles and leans into him, taking a slow sip of his tea. They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, before Robert begins to speak.

“I know Andy doesn’t have a problem with me, with you and me. I know he doesn’t think like that anymore, I wouldn’t speak to him if he did,” he says quietly. “We were just kids, and kids can be idiots, I get it. It’s just – it’s the fact that he didn’t even remember. To him it was clearly just a stupid bit of teenage drama, it didn’t mean anything. He probably never even gave it a second thought after Steve was gone. Whereas I… ”

Robert trails off, blinking rapidly and looking frustrated. Aaron reaches over to lace their fingers together, squeezing gently.  As out and proud as his husband is now, it's still difficult for him to talk about his sexuality sometimes, about all the time he spent in hiding it.

“That day,” Robert eventually continues. “When Andy said all that stuff about not wanting to hang out with Steve anymore, I thought I was gonna be sick there and then. The way he acted like it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever heard… I don’t think I got a wink of sleep that night. I just lay there in bed, picturing Andy’s face if he ever found out about – about me. If he knew what Dad knew.”

He sets his mug down and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It wasn’t like I’d been about to come out or anything, this was a couple of years after Dad… you know.”

Aaron nods wordlessly, feeling the hatred he’d carried for Jack Sugden ever since he learnt about that day bubble rapidly to the surface.

“I’d already buried the fact that I liked boys, I'd decided I was just gonna pretend it wasn’t there. But – but hearing Andy say all that stuff about Steve, the way he reacted to even the possibility that his mate was… It was like like the final nail in the coffin, y’know?” Robert’s bottom lip wobbles as he shakes his head, sounding so resigned.

“I knew then, that I could never tell him. Or my friends, or anyone in this stupid village. Any hope I’d had, deep down, that being myself might be... I don’t know, not accepted but… tolerated, maybe? It pretty much died that day.”

Sometimes, Aaron is reminded of just how drastically things in Emmerdale have changed in recent times. His adolescence and Robert’s were only a few years apart; on paper the time seems like nothing. But the reality is that in terms of mindset and attitude, things couldn’t have been more different for the two of them.

He remembers the fear, the absolute terror of others finding out the truth about him all too well. But once he was out, once the dust settled and everyone knew… apart from the odd snide comment from some tosser he didn’t even know, people were fine with it. His family, Victoria, Adam, Ryan, Holly… none of them cared, no one saw him any differently. If anything, he became closer to nearly every person around him.

The fact that Robert not only believed that the opposite would happen to him, but basically had actual confirmation of it played out right before his eyes, breaks Aaron's heart.

He puts down his own mug so he can pull Robert into him and tuck him under his chin, Robert’s arms circling his waist as he buries his face into Aaron's chest.

“I love you,” he murmurs into his husband’s hair, hands stroking softly. “You deserved better.”

Robert clutches him tighter.

*

Later that night, Adam texts him while Robert’s in the shower.

so that was fun

Aaron readjusts a sleepy Seb in his lap so he can reply.

What happened after we left? Andy say anything?

not much. diane and vic gave him an earful, he left pretty sharpish. looked proper ashamed of himself too. vic’s been going spare ever since, i’ve had to stop her from going to yours 3 times. u both ok?

We’re fine. Tell Vic that Rob’s alright, I’ve got him

will do. night mate

*

“Well, you’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” Is the only thing Aaron says when he opens the front door to Andy the next morning, folding his arms across his chest.

Andy shuffles awkwardly on the welcome mat, a hand coming up to scratch his bushy beard.

“Is Robert here?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t step aside to let Andy in. When Andy realises that Aaron isn’t budging, he sighs heavily, shoulders slumped.

“Look Aaron, I uh… ” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry."

“Not me you need to apologise to.”

“No, I know, but I just wanted to say that I was a right idiot back then, really stupid. Ignorant. And I’m – I’m not proud of it, but I don’t want you thinking I’m still like that because – ”

“I don’t think you’re like that,” Aaron cuts him off.

“…Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t still be standing here if I did.”

Andy pauses and blinks, face twisting nervously.

“Right, well uh… good, I’m glad. So… can I…?” He gestures to the inside of the house.

“Wait here.”

He closes the door in Andy’s face (not exactly necessary, but he takes some petty pleasure in it) and walks through the living room to the back door, stepping out into bright sunshine and the sound of splashing and laughter.

Seb’s playing in his paddling pool in the garden, happy as a clam, while Robert sprawls on the grass beside it, occasionally passing him one of the bath toys they’d brought down to the garden. The front of his t-shirt is absolutely drenched.

“Alright?” He asks as Aaron approaches.

“Andy’s here. Asking for you.”

Robert stiffens, grin dropping off his face.

“Want me to send him packing?”

There’s a long pause, before Robert sighs and shakes his head. “No… suppose he can come through.”

Aaron returns to the front door and beckons Andy, leading him to the back garden.

“Andy!” Seb cries when he spots them. “Pool!”

“Wow, look at this!” Andy calls as he steps closer. For all his and Robert's issues, he adores Seb. “You havin’ fun, mate?”

Seb nods vigorously, his damp sunhat bouncing on his head as he smacks his hands into the water. Robert tilts his head up to stare at Andy.

“Alright?” Andy tries for a hopeful smile, which Robert doesn’t return, instead refocusing his gaze on Seb.

“Can we have a quick chat?”

Robert passes Seb a rubber duck.

“Rob, come on,” Andy pleads, looking down at him imploringly.

Robert rolls his eyes, before pushing himself up and wiping his palms on his shorts.

“Can you – ?” He asks Aaron, gesturing to Seb.

“Course.” Aaron gives Robert’s wrist a brief squeeze as he passes him, before settling down next to the paddling pool, flicking some water in Seb’s face to make him laugh.

As he plays with his son, he keeps an eye on the two brothers, watching as they walk to the deckchairs at other end of the garden, sitting sideways on them so they’re facing each other.

Aaron can’t make out exactly what’s being said, not over the sound of Seb’s splashing and yelling, but neither of them look angry, which is a good sign. He just hopes Jack’s name doesn’t come up, otherwise that could all change in a heartbeat.

Andy’s doing most of the talking, elbows resting on his bouncing knees as he leans towards Robert. The expression on his face is uncomfortable but earnest, as he offers what is clearly an apology – Aaron doesn’t need to hear them to know that much. It makes a change; Aaron’s never known anyone so keen to deny any wrongdoing as Andy Sugden – especially when it comes to Robert and their childhood.

Robert keeps his face blank, sitting ramrod straight and staring somewhere past Andy’s shoulder as he listens. But as Andy continues speaking, his face begins softens a little and he eventually begins talking back quietly. Andy fidgets and looks down, but he doesn’t interrupt except to nod occasionally, replying only when Robert finishes speaking. It’s probably the most the Sugden brothers have communicated in years.

Aaron wishes he could lipread. Or that he had a slightly quieter child.

“Daddy!” Seb cries for his attention, hitting him in the chest with a plastic bucket.

“Oh, sorry mate, did you want a shower?” He fills the bucket with water and tips it all over Seb’s head until every inch of him is dripping, causing him to shriek loudly.

“That’s what you get,” Aaron laughs at the indignant expression on his son’s face, before glancing up to see Robert and Andy have stopped talking in favour of watching the scene fondly.

Andy stands and stretches. “I should get going, then,” he says to Robert, who stands to follow him.

“Stay for a bit if you like? We’ve got lemonade in the fridge, lots of ice.”

“Nah, you’re alright. I’m taking Sarah shopping soon,” he claps Robert on the shoulder. “Another time, though?”

“Okay, yeah.”

“I’ll see myself out.” Andy leans down to tickle Seb under the chin. “Enjoy your pool, Seb.”

He starts walking across the grass, before pausing and turning back to them.

“Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“You – you’re my brother,” Andy chews his lip, looking serious. “My family. Family’s supposed to rely on each other, and I made you feel like you couldn’t. I really am sorry.”

There’s a long silence as Robert stares at him, unmoving. For a moment, Aaron thinks he isn’t going to say anything back, and then –

“S’okay, Andy. It’s forgotten.”

“Okay,” Andy nods, sounding relieved. “Oh, and please let Vic know that I’ve spoken to you, will you? Before she castrates me.”

Robert’s mouth twitches. “Can’t have that. I’ll let her know.”

“Cheers. See you, Rob. Aaron.”

Andy takes his leave, shoving his hands in his pockets and disappearing around the corner of the house.

Robert sinks down onto the grass next to Aaron and lets out a long breath.

“Okay?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Robert smiles and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m fine. We talked, it was good.”

That’s probably the most Aaron’s going to get out of him, for now at least, so he smiles back and snakes an arm around his waist. If Robert’s good, then he’s good.

“D’you want me to get the drinks from the – hey!” Robert splutters when he’s cut off by Seb chucking a bucketful of water in his face, giggling madly when he hits his target with impressive accuracy.

“Good aim, kid,” Aaron grins, ruffling Seb’s soaked hair.

[beanie-beebo-writes]

It follows

Series Summary: Reader is running from financial problems and his/her studies, will they catch up with him/her? Charlie's close friends (none other than Sam and Dean) go to check up on the reader due to Charlie becoming worried for him/her. Trouble pursues, as the reader wants to keep silent about his/her struggles.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Chapter 4

"Alright, so I say we crash here for the night, wrap the case up in about a day or two, and hit the road." Dean thought aloud, dropping his large duffle bag next to the bed farthest from the door. "What do you think Sammy?"

Sam scoffed and looked at his brother in utter disbelief. "Dean, what about (y/n)?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his brother. "What about (him/her)?"

"'What abou- Dean, (he/she) needs help."

"(He/she) seemed fine to me. What makes you think otherwise?"

"I don't know Dean, maybe I was in a similar situation? I saw the look on (his/her) face; (he/she) was running."

"From what? And we probably can't help (him/her), Sam. Plus, we don't even know (him/her)."

"Maybe we don't, but Charlie does. And Charlie is family."

Dean sighed and began to unpack his bag. "It's the least we can do for her." Sam added.

He turned around in slight annoyance and reluctantly obliged to his brother's requests. "Okay okay, fine. Jeez. It's not like we don't have enough problems on our plate, right?" He snapped back with indignation.

Sam thanked his brother with a small smile and began to unpack some of his belongings. He powered up his laptop as he began to search through some of the police reports. Dean felt more security knowing Sam didn't want to completely drop the business and help another random citizen, who was not likely affected by their line of work.

"So, what do we got on 'Piranha' here?" Dean asked, peering over his brother's shoulder.

"Well, all of the vics are missing the heart, so we can already narrow down the culprit-"

"Werewolf." Dean interrupted.

"Bingo," Sam replied, emphasizing the 'B' "but, I can't find any connections between anyone. Not race, records, area, relations... nothing."

"Of course. When is it ever an easy hunt for us?" Dean grumbled.

Sam huffed in concurrence as his older brother practically jumped on top of the mattress and flipped through the Cinemax stations, skillfully turning on the bedside lamp in the process.

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

You looked over at the digital clock on your nightstand once again, the clock read 8:01 PM. Charlie would have likely text you some sort of message by now, she wasn't normally this busy. Usually, she would find time during breaks or before she turned in for the evening. You flipped open your phone to its plain background and started up a new message. After pondering, you settled on asking if everything was okay and sent the message. It wasn't until you were doing your bedtime routine that the small screen on top of your phone lit up. A little too urgently, you paused your nightly routine and rushed over to the night stand. When you found out it was Charlie, you exhaled air that you didn't realize you were holding.

"Yeah, everything is fine. Just a little last minute homework, no need to worry."

Even though the answer sounded reasonable, you couldn't find yourself believing it. Charlie wasn't a procrastinator, and she never broke off a conversation that suddenly, ever. You and Charlie had been friends since middle school, and you could read her like a book. There was no denying that something was wrong, but what exactly could you do?

"Are you SURE? I'm here for you Char, always." You replied.

Almost instantly, you received her one word reply, confirming her emotional front. She was keeping her stance, and whatever she was hiding, had to have been important enough to hide from her best friend, you. Sighing, you returned to the bathroom to finish your last task for the evening.

You turned in around the same time you did every evening, early. Just in case if you needed to sneak out into the world at dawn, you would be ready to adapt to the rapidly changing situation. But you couldn't drift off so easily tonight, your thoughts were plagued of Charlie, your old life, the simplicity, your dreams... And those two men, Sam and Dean. You stared at the ceiling, searching your wired brain for an answer. An answer to this life you were living, to your best friend cutting you off, to her two friends stopping by unexpectedly... No matter how much you searched, you had to keep returning to the drawing board.

Just as you began to close your eyes, a flash of light briefly scanned the room from outside your window. Sleep was the least of your worries now, they were after you. You briskly jumped out from under the covers and snuck over to the curtains. Sure enough, as you quickly peaked outside, there were two officers walking along each patio, occasionally speaking into their CBs. They were here, and you had to run. You stealthily covered your tracks and packed a couple of the belongings that were astray from your suitcase. You were lucky that the moon shone brightly tonight, or you were sure you would be constantly tripping over the furniture in the dark.

You crept back to the window with your suitcase by your side, hoping with every fiber of your body, that the officers were gone. Of course, you were wrong. The two men were still on the patio next to yours, chatting away about an unknown conversation. They could have been here for another reason, but why risk it? There was no way out, you were trapped, a goner.

"Unless.." You thought to yourself.

You grabbed a free umbrella from the umbrella stand by the door and took your stance. You weren't going to go out that easy, you would fight.

You opened your eyes to the suddenly bright room, and slowly stood up from the wall. You must have passed out without knowledge. Looking around the untouched room, you wondered what aroused you from sleep. A hard, gentle set of knocks followed your thinking.

"(Y/n)? It's Sam and Dean, open up."

Could you trust that? Without confirming you were there, you slowly opened the door and stood behind it with uncertainty. You heard guns click as the set of feet walked slowly into the room. It was the two officers, they were after you.

"How am I going to pull this off?" You thought to yourself.

You were just going have to make it up as you went, as always. You came out from your hiding spot from behind the motel door and swung rapidly at the two figures in front of you, being blinded from the sudden light difference in the room.

"Ah, shit! (Y/n), it's us!" The figure hissed in pain.

Your eyes slowly began to adjust to the room, seeing Sam keeled over and his brother pointing a barrel straight at you. The umbrella dropped along with your stomach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dean exclaimed, not lowering his weapon an inch.

"I- I thought you were-" You stammered. You couldn't tell them, they could turn you in. They could be friends of Charlie, but that didn't make a difference in the world. "Never mind, sorry. Got startled."

They both looked at you in disbelief, and then at each other. Sam raised his eyebrows, cueing Dean to lower the gun. Still a bit upset, he tucked the weapon into his waistband, as if he would need it later.

"(Y/n), is there something you should tell us?" Sam asked, finally standing back up.

"No, not really!" You snapped. "What about you? Why would a medical professional carry a damn gun? Care to explain?"

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Dean cut him off instantly. "It's good to be cautious in this world, got a problem with that?" He defended.

"No, I guess.."

"Good. Now why don't you start explaining why the hell you ambushed my brother and I, and then we can call it even."

You just couldn't trust them, there was no way. Open up, and you knew you would be spending the next few months behind a stand, facing a judge and some lawyers.

"I can't." You responded firmly.

"You can't, or you won't?" Sam asked.

"I have to go, I'm sorry." You said suddenly.

You stormed out of the door with your belongings as they called after you, wishing they would just disappear. Just before you reached your car, you stopped in your tracks as you stood inches away from a car. But it wasn't just any car, it was a special car. A black 1967 Chevy Impala, the car the Winchesters drove. It was the car. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. You knew exactly where you heard their names from.

A/n: I realize looking back on this, there are a LOT of italics. I must have used these excessively when I wrote a while back 😂

[erin-epica]

Woop-de-doo, it's Lord Scarlet stuff part 2

This was a post I planned on making WAY sooner, but I accidentally lost the original draft so I didn't even bother to try doing it gain until recently. And just now something happened that changed everything; and I mean what both DID and DIDN'T automatically give me the right to post this. I almost deleted my first post at that, and here's why:

In the first post, I mentioned that when I initially found out Vic was lying to me, I was quiet about it and just stopped talking to her out of fear, and then when I asked for help on what to do I was told to leave without a word. I don't think that was entirely the right thing to do in the long run, because it may have been the easiest way out but I'm better off with proper closure.

And the thoughts she left me scarred with never left my head. Time and time again, I'd find myself crying myself to sleep again at the thought of Brock forced to hide romantic feelings for Master Frown and not know who he was anymore while Frown was left unaware and in love with someone else, even if it wasn't Lord Scarlet.

And the pain sometimes came with a want to confront Vic one last time and open up to her about how I wasn't blind anymore, and how much she really hurt me. But I, again, wass scared she wouldn't care and would cut me off.

So when the pain got worse, I did what any coward would do: tell everyone else about my pain.

Now I DID tell friends of mine other than the Unikitty Amino staff about what happened, and they were all sympathetic and understanding about it. But then I told almost everyone, and then made my vent post on here (as well as Wattpad). As much as I wouldn't want to call them call out posts, they might as well have been. I didn't want people to harass Vic and make her mad...but at the same time I kinda did. I was too scared to face her that I was hoping that someone would do it for me. I even tagged accounts of Vic's. Not cool of me at all.

Now the Tumblr and Wattpad posts got me pretty much more of the same: sympathy, and acceptance that I had moved on. No one came after Vic but we could still agree that none of her actions were justified (I even got @careeningle's attention...sorry about the aneurysm)

Now comes the next important thing that happened, because I mentioned @friffinx kinda being responsible for me getting back to the Lord Scarlet Amino to write the message that I did. In it, I said that after I sent the message I did I would leave the Amino again & for good.

Well...I lied. I still checked in every day for the same reason I started venting: I kinda wanted Vic to see my message. Even if she'd ban me, I wanted to see if she'd ever notice my message. And that would've been the end of it if it wasn't for Brook.

I briefly mentioned Brook in the last post. She was another OC of Vic's, and was exactly to Brock what Lord Scarlet was to Master Frown; a carbon copy love interest. Except Lord Scarlet was far more developed and drawn & written about more. Brook didn't even really have a distinct personality, she was a girl Brock and that was it. But with reptilian overlord eyes. (To be fair, Vic drew Brock like that sometimes too)

(I didn't include Vic's art unless it was in chat bgs or whatever in the last post, but for the sake of referencing/proving a point, this is what Brook looks like)

No one really paid attention to her for the longest time. She was there in the fanfics because according to Vic, "Scarlet needed a friend." And like I said in the first post, Brook wasn't said to be canon so I never found a reason to really care for her. Plus I can only recall someone giving Vic fanart with her, and it was with Scarlet (@plastic-papercuts made it, go follow her she's gr8).

But then one day, for some reason, something in me clicked. I actually thought of a story idea for her. Somehow this bland cutout of a character had potential in my eyes, and I weirdly started liking her because of it. She suddenly felt...more real. I got pretty invested in my idea and newfound interpretation of Brook, and describing it would make this post way longer than it is so if anyone asks about it, I'll probably make a whole other post about it.

Anyway, I came up with a little plan: draw out this idea in the form of a comic and post it to the Lord Scarlet Amino. And see if Vic gets suspicious and checks out my profile and then maybe bans me. It felt a bit better than total silence and she'd probably see that someone gave a crap about Brook after all.

So I started a new chat called "It's Brook" to share my progress with the other members of the Amino, which there weren't too many of but we had fun in it. It was basically me, @friffinx , @soapycocacola, @plastic-papercuts, and a few others who aren't on Tumblr (or at least don't think are) chatting about how awful Vic was and calling out her lazy art tactics like tracing and using assets/clips right from the show. And of course me sharing the comic progress I was making. Again, this doesn't make anything we did right but it felt good getting everything off our chests. We were like a secret rebellion against an absentee dictator. One time Vic came online as we were chatting and even viewed my profile, but nothing happened. And it stayed that way until I opened Amino up one morning. For those of you who don't have it, the menu shows all the communities you're in when you open the app, and all of mine were there except for the Lord Scarlet Amino. I assumed I must've been banned overnight. But I wasn't banned from Vic's other Amino so I commented on her wall on that one. For Vic's sake, I won't show how the conversation went (and I'll explain why at the end) but here's how it went:

Me: Did you ban me from the LS Amino?

Her: There was drama in one of the chat rooms and I'm not having it. I didn't want to do it and it's not a big deal It's just an amino and you're still on this one AM I RIGHT?

Me: Yes, but I assume you read my updated bio. As I hoped you would.

Her: Nope.

Me: Oh. But you know what? Ban me from here too for all I care, I feel like you deserve to know why I left and came back: *insert me finally telling her how I know she lied, that she hurt me, and what I did was wrong here*

Her: Lol ok be that person but keep in mind that I'm one of those people that doesn't gibe a fuck lol

And then she banned me from that Amino too before I could type and submit a fitting farewell reply.

At least I finally got all the built-up emotional pain out of me, but it did help me realize something important: we never really were friends. I wanted more of her content despite all her red flags as a person so I tried enduring them, thinking it'd be worth it, and she only kinda cared about me when I was being a yes man. She never kept any promises and didn't respect me the same way I did her. So I could at least feel confident knowing she most likely didn't care at all when I first left.

@friffinx and the others didn't get banned, though, and Friff even started another chat on the LS Amino called "It's Brook 2" where they talked more about Vic being a terrible person. And it didn't take long for her to shut that chat down too and ban everyone from it that time. Friff sent me screenshots of what happened next (which again, I'm not gonna show), where Vic basically had a meltdown. She changed her username to "Little Miss Guillotine", and made a post about her being "finished with the bushit". In it, she announced that she didn't even like Unikitty! anymore but was still gonna keep/use Lord Scarlet because she wanted to. The part that made my blood almost boil wasn't her views on the show, she's free to have her opinion and I couldn't care less about it. What DID was that she acknowledged that she lied the whole time because "she didn't care anymore" and said that it was "our faults for believing it in the first place" and that "we needed to grow up"/"stop brining it up"

Ooooh boy, victim blaming, my favortie...

Since then she changed the Lord Scarlet Amino's theme to make it about The Penguins of Madagacar (again, fine with me). Either way she was still a narcissist and I thought she'd, sadly, likely never change. And my friends and I all thought that was the end of it.

Until a few hours ago...

I was browsing the Unikitty Amino and saw a new member named BlueCat. Didn't think anything else of it until the user PMed me. And this is what happened:

I didn't know what to think other than "I thought this day would never come", I was that shaken. This was so left field-ish that what else could I do but believe her? It didn't even seem suspicious or like she was trying to be a suck up, that wasn't Vic at all.

But the one thing I knew I had to do was ban her because even if she meant well and did it for the right(?) reasons, but I still asked if I should in the staff chat. @girly-glorious (also amazing so pls check her out :D) told me that yes, it was ban evasion so since I'm a leader too now I could to it on my own. But I knew I had to message Vic first and Girly told me to be careful, so this is what I sent:

And then I banned her, the end (not really)

Now I don't understand how or why this sudden behavior change happened but I don't know if I should question it in case it's personal. But again, I at least want to believe that she's really being genuine and had a change of heart because never in a million years could I imagine her being this mature. Again, she didn't demand that I forgive me or probably even expect me to. But the message still does leave me feeling sorry for her.

Now I thought that was the real end of it until I see the Penguins of Madagascar/old Lord Scarlet Amino on my sideboard.

She unbanned me.

Now I don't know where we'll go from here, if anywhere. I'm not too sure if I can really let my guard down around someone who hurt me so badly just in case she does it again. So I may not talk to her again, but if she really asks something from me, I might try and build up courage to ask her more about how she came to apologizing to me. Plus she followed me on Wattpad too.

But this is why I didn't show our conversation right before my ban or her "f.u." posts. Because I don't want people seeing more of Vic's past behavior and possibly embarrassing her about it if she ever sees this. But that's kinda why I felt like it was 100% necessary to finally make a sequel post in the end; I'm hoping people at least acknowledge Vic has changed and don't keep thinking about based on what I shared out of attempts to gain sympathy like a crybaby.

So before I go: PLEASE, DON'T GO AFTER OR HARASS VIC. I KNOW YOU PROBABLY WON'T, BUT THIS IS SERIOUS. ALL THE PROBLEMATIC LORD SCARLET DRAMA IS STUFF OF THE PAST AND NEITHER OF US WANT TO KEEP LOOKING BACK ON IT.

I hope this helps whoever's reading as much as it did me.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Family and Fantasy

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Y/N finally gets the life she’s been dreaming of with the man she’s in love with but it’s not all it appears. 

Warnings: Supernatural typical violence, bad writing as always

____________________________________________

The sun shone brightly on your face, warming your skin, as you leaned against the warm sun-heated Impala. A light breeze rustled through the leaves of the forest that surrounded the clearing you were in and across the field of mixed weeds and flowers. Dean always insisted they were weeds at least; you thought that it was all beautiful. 

A large smile spread across your face as you heard the squealing laughter of your three year old son, Marcus, “Daddy stop!” He giggled, Dean chasing him in small circles with a big grin. You watched the two of them run around in the middle of the empty dirt road in front of your home.

“I’m gonna get you!” Dean said, closing in on the little boy, snatching him up in his arms and swinging him around. Laughter filled the air as Dean tossed him in the air and and ran up to you. “Now let’s get Mommy!” 

You put your arms up, jokingly shielding yourself as Dean and Marcus came running towards you, Marcus’s hands outstretched. His bright green eyes - his father’s eyes - sparkled with glee. Marcus squealed excitedly. “No!!!” You teased. Suddenly, Dean thrust Marcus into your open arms, “throwing” him at you. 

“Got you!” Marcus giggled, throwing his slightly chubby arms around your neck. Dean came up besides you, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing you and your son into his arms. He kissed the top of your head and you snuggled into his neck, taking in everything. The feeling of his skin against yours, the scent of him and his cologne on his shirt, the slight scratch of his ever-so-slightly scruffy face on your cheek as he nuzzled against you, the squirming of your son as he vied for your attention over Dean. Most importantly, you looked up at Dean and you saw him smile. He actually smiled with genuine happiness and contentment. 

You looked up lovingly at him and watched his gaze scan across the scene in front of him: from the luscious green forest around a field mixed with grass and flowers to the dirt road that doubled as your driveway to the large dirt driveway that led to your home then back to your son, who there was no denying was his just by looks. Finally, his gaze drifted down, beautiful green eyes meeting yours as he kissed you gently, “I love you.” 

______________

Dean rushed into the motel room excitedly, setting the bags of take-out on the half-broken table. It was a good night. It was his night to take the bed instead of the floor and he had just gotten back from getting a double bacon cheeseburger. What wasn’t to love? “I HAVE PROVIDED!” He announced, throwing his arms in the air triumphantly for doing a basic human task like getting food.

He reached into the large brown paper bag, pulling out his burger before looking pu and noticing that nobody was getting their food. “Don’t all get up at once.” He commented sarcastically, looking at Sam, Cas, Jack, and… oh. That’s what was off. “Where’s Y/N?” 

Sam leaned back from his laptop, “Y/N’s not back yet.” 

“What do you mean Y/N isn’t back yet?” He asked. 

“I mean she isn't back. She left this morning to go check in on the girl we wanted to talk to about the potential case here but she never came back. She stopped responding to my text messages five hours ago. She won’t answer her phone.” 

“Maybe her phone died?” Dean suggested, trying to push aside the panic that was rising in his chest. 

Cas shrugged, “That’s what we assumed too but she’s been gone for almost twelve hours. Even if her phone did die, she should have been back by now or at least told us she went to go do other things. It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night. And nothing in this town is open past eight as far as I can tell.” 

Dean thought for a second, “Okay… so what do we do? Where do we start? What do we know?” He rambled. 

“I’m not sure,” Jack started, “But she went to interview someone who knew the vic right? Maybe we should go talk to the girl she interviewed? See if she knows anything?” 

Cas nodded, “That would be a good place to start.”

Before Cas even finished agreeing, Dean had the keys pulled out of his pocket and was heading towards the door, “Alright, let’s go.” 

__________________

“Excuse me boys but what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You questioned, hands on your hips, as you watched your three year old sitting on the granite kitchen counter next to your husband, both of them looking like a deer in headlights. Marcus quickly ripped his hand out of the pack of cookies he and Dean were sneaking into while Dean continued to look at you, mid-bite into his chocolate chip cookie. They knew they were caught. “I just got back from the store to make dinner! It is not time for cookies!” You exclaimed, not actually mad, just irritated at Dean for spoiling your son’s appetite. It was hard enough getting him to eat his veggies sometimes. 

“Daddy! Mommy’s home!” Marcus very obviously scream whispered, panicking. 

Dean leaned over, “Yeah, thanks buddy.” You cocked an eyebrow at him. After a second, Dean stood a little straighter, looking at you defiantly and finishing biting into the cookie. 

“Dean Winchester! Don’t make me fight you!” You threatened, reaching over to pick Marcus up off the counter. 

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Dean asked with a smirk and cheesy eyebrow wiggle. 

Your eyes widened as you cleared your throat, motioning to the toddler in your arms. 

Your husband rolled his eyes, “Awe c’mon, he’s three. He doesn’t know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes back at him, setting Marcus down. 

After watching him run into the other room, Dean moved a little closer to you, grabbing your waist and leaning close to you, his scruffiness scratching seductively up your neck, making your knees weak. “So… maybe we can get him to bed early tonight and we can make that a promise?” 

______________________

“Hello, Miss. Peyton Wilson?” Sam started, the girl nodding in response, “I’m agent Cole and this is my partner agent Wanek,” He gestured to Dean, “Another agent came by this morning to speak with you about your brother’s death, correct?” 

Peyton looked as if she’d been crying for days, her eyes puffy and hair messy, “I already talked to the police. But no, nobody from the FBI came by.” 

“No?” Sam asked, fear flashing in his chest, “Okay, well I’m sorry for bothering you so late. We’ll be back tomorrow at a more reasonable time to speak with you about the incident. Have a good night.” 

“So she never made it here?” Dean thought out loud as they walked towards the impala where Jack and Cas were. 

From the back, Cas said, concerned, “Then she’s been missing for longer than we thought.” 

“So where do we start then?” Dean asked, needing something productive to be said. He felt like they weren’t getting anywhere. 

In the backseat, a thought occurred to Jack, “What if whatever we’re hunting here got Y/N too?” 

Dean groaned, “Then we better find whatever it is fast. We don’t even know for sure what we’re hunting. But whatever it is, it’s not good and she probably doesn’t have much time.” 

“Three known victims so far, all completely drained of blood. So we’re down to… what? A vamp or a djinn?” Sam thought through before sighing, “Either way, it’s not good.” 

“And where’s the nest then?” Cas asked. 

Out across the dark, rainy street, what looked like a teenage girl walking down the sidewalk caught Sam’s attention. She walked straight ahead, shielding herself from the rain by pulling her coat over her head. Sam watched, noticing that she kept glancing behind her nervously. “Hey, guys…” Sam mentioned, drawing everyone’s attention to the young girl who was quickly looking more and more scared. The girl completely stopped, looking around and taking out her earbuds when suddenly a man appeared out of the bushes next to her. Within less than a second, his eyes glowed a bright blue, illuminating his heavily tattooed body, and he snatched her into the bushes, the both of them disappearing silently. 

All four of the men jumped out of the car, rushing towards where the girl and djinn just stood. “I guess we know which one it is now.” As they approached where they were, they couldn’t find where they went. Dean rustled the leaves around, trying to figure out where the djinn could have possibly taken the girl. That’s when he saw the opening behind the bush. 

“Right here guys!” He announced, ripping away the branches and diving straight into the tunnel, gun drawn. It was dark and entirely concrete, walls, floor, ceiling, and all. Water leaked from cracks in the ceiling, small weeds peeping through the seams between slabs on cement. The tunnel itself only went about fifteen feet in before opening into a medium sized room lit only by the sporadic, nearly-burnt out candle. 

Dean cautiously scanned the room, nodding his head silently to let the other three men know it was clear. They all entered, guns readied. Broken furniture littered the room except for the occasional mostly intact couch or table. The men spread around the room, each looking in different areas for either the man or the girl he took or (preferably) you. 

Jack followed along one wall, seeing a hallway that led off to the right. He rounded the corner, gasping when he saw the scene in front of him. Across the room, he saw a row of people strung up by rope around their wrists, feet barely touching the floor (not that it mattered considering they hung limp and unconscious anyways.) There were three people in total: one older gentleman, a younger man- the one who’s disappearance drew you all to the town in the first place, and you. Each of you were hooked up to an IV system, deep red blood flowing from your arms into a bag that hung next to each of your bodies.  “Dean! Sam! Cas!” Jack yelled, alerting the others. 

______________________________

You couldn’t help the slight quiver in your legs or the flutter in your chest as Dean’s lips dipped below your jaw and just behind your ear, knowing every spot on your body that made you weak. His rough hands gently crept under your shirt, calloused fingers resting on your soft skin, as he pinned your body between his hips and the granite kitchen counter. You tilted your head, giving him better access to exactly where you wanted him. A whimper escaped your lips as he sank his teeth into your delicate skin before soothing over it with his tongue. 

“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” He asked, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes with all the love and adoration that they held five years ago when you first fell in love. 

Gosh, the way this man made you feel. He had the power to make you feel like the strongest most badass woman in the world but he could also make you feel like the most beautiful, loved person on the planet. 

“Do you realize how much I love you?” You responded, hoping your eyes conveyed the exact same message his did. Before he could respond, you pulled him close to you, hand resting on his neck before craning your mouth back up to meet his in a fiery kiss. Dean’s large hands trailed down from your hips to your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter. He quickly closed the gap between you, hips coming flush with you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips as you pulled him impossibly closer, earning a grunt from Dean as the bulge in his jeans rubbed against your clothed core. 

Your lips still crashed passionately as his hand snaked around your lower back and he leaned forward, catching you off guard as you suddenly found yourself leaning back. Before you could lie all the way down, your hands shot out in panic, trying to catch yourself in a momentary panic despite the fact that Dean had you supported the whole time. In your panic, you accidentally knocked a small pile of books off the counter and they came crashing to the ground with a loud thud. 

You and Dean both froze, listening for Marcus to see if he woke up. After it was decided it was safe, you giggled at your mishap. Dean looked down at you and poked your sides in humorous aggression, “Gotta be quiet princess or you’ll wake him up! It’s already been so long.” He growled the last part, diving back into your neck, trailing hot kisses down into your cleavage and across your breasts, pulling your tank top down further to expose your supple skin. His teeth grazed over the tender flesh pulling a whimper from your lips. 

“You sound so sweet princess.” Ohhh that nickname. It really did things to you. His hands came up to massage your breasts , pulling your shirt and bra down, completely exposing you, and you found yourself arching your back into his rough palms. “You have no idea how badly I’ve missed this.” He groaned in your ear, grinding his hips into your heat and you could feel everything. 

“I’m pretty sure I have an idea.” You teased, your words broken by breathy moans. Slowly, he moved his left hand from your breast and down to your heat, massaging you through your shorts. 

“Oh Dean-” You moaned in ecstasy. 

_______________________________

“Dean…” You groaned quietly. 

“I’m here! I’m here Y/N. C’mon wake up.” Dean told you, panicked, as he and Sam ran over to you. Dean checked your pulse while Sam whipped out his knife and began sawing through the ropes that held you up. It didn’t take long to cut all the rope and your weight crashed into Dean’s arms. He gently lied you on the ground, kneeling over you. 

“He’s dead. Is she okay?” Cas asked, looking over from his own work of cutting down the elderly gentleman. 

“She’s alive.” Dean announced, “C’mon Y/N, wake up!” He shook you slightly. Gosh, you were so pale and your skin was cold and clammy. Your lips were chapped and he could’ve sworn they were almost purple. His eyes trailed down to where the IV was and he quickly removed the tape, gently removing the catheter from your arm, blood squirting down your arm from the lack of pressure. “Jack! Help!” 

Jack quickly ran over to you and swiped his hand over your body. His eyes glowed bright amber and a warm energy flowed from his hands into your body, stopping the bleeding in your arm and trailing up. As he worked his way up, you slowly regained some color and your breathing became more regular. 

Before he could finish though, Sam yelled, grunting as he was tackled to the ground by a man. Jack stopped and stood quickly, his attention turning to Sam who was being attacked by the same man that had taken the girl earlier that night. The man choked Sam, his hands gripping tightly around his throat. “Jack-” He choked out, hands trying to pry the man’s grip off. As Sam met his eyes though he noticed them glow bright blue and saw the tattoos all over his body do the same and Sam knew right away what he was dealing with. 

With a flick of his wrist, the man was thrown off Sam by some invisible force and sent crashing into the cement walls. Sam rolled over, gasping and coughing loudly, managing to croak out, “It’s a djinn!” 

The tattooed monster didn’t stay down for long though and before the boys knew it, he was back up. The djinn rushed towards Castiel, who turned soon enough to take a blunt tackle to the chest. He found himself pinned against the wall. Cas struggled hard against the pressure but the djinn wasn’t budging. Again, he glowed bright blue and brought his fingers up to Castiel’s forehead. When he did, Cas’s eyes glowed as well and he stared off as if he were in a trance. 

Before the djinn’s magic was completely though, Sam rushed up from behind, running him through with the angel blade. His blue glow flickered before completely dimming and he crashed to the ground. Cas fell as well but quickly regained consciousness, the djinn’s magic having not worked entirely. 

“Jack!” Dean hissed, snapping a distracted Jack back to his previous job of healing you.

“Right!” Jack knelt back down next to you and ran his hands over your still body. Slowly, you began moving again, even if only a little. 

Suddenly, your eyes shot open as you gasped and sat up, nearly knocking Dean’s head with yours. You leaned back against your hands as you gasped, looking around at your surroundings.

How the hell did you get here? What happened? Where were you? Two seconds ago you were in your very happy home, doing very very pleasant things with your husband when suddenly you were jolted to wherever the hell this was. You really thought you were done with all that hunter stuff… 

“Y/N?!” A familiar voice gasped, “You’re okay! We’ve got you!” 

You looked over to see Dean crouching next to you but this wasn’t your Dean. This was the Dean you’d first started dating back when you were hunters. “What’s going on?” You asked, looking around frantically. Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack all stood around you with worried looks on their faces. 

“You were taken by a djinn,” Cas explained, turning to the boys, “Her confusion is probably caused by suddenly being jerked from whatever fantasy he had her in.” 

Fantasy. That was just a fantasy? “It all felt so real.” You sighed sadly to yourself. You wanted that to be real so badly.

Dean took your hand gently, “Believe me, I know. I’ve been zapped in by one of those suckers too.” 

“Let’s get her back to the hotel.” Sam suggested. 

Everyone nodded in agreement and Dean reached down to help you up. The second his skin touched yours, your heart sped up and you gasped, still feeling hot from his touch in your dream. Dean noticed and looked at you with a concerned expression, “You okay?” 

You nodded hurriedly, avoiding eye contact with him. It was all too weird. You’d been in love with the man for months and you finally had everything you’d dreamed of. You’d been with him in ways you could only imagine being with him in real life and now it was as if none of it had happened. Because none of it had. 

“I can do it.” You stated, pushing yourself up with wobbly arms. They were still sore despite the fact that your wounds had been healed.

Together, the five of you made your way out of the room you were in, along with the girl they’d saved. Once outside, you made quick work of making the scene look like a typical kidnapping-murder. Dean called it in to the police that you’d all been working with as FBI and told them that you’d found the victims. 

As soon as all of that was done, you’d gotten in the Impala and made your way back to the motel. Everyone noticed you were uncharacteristically quiet but chose not to push it. They had no clue what hallucination you were stuck in. 

But Jack, of course, with his child-like naivety and thirst for learning looked at you innocently in the backseat, “So you were stuck in a dream?” He asked. 

You nodded, trying to hide the sadness, “Apparently so.” 

“And he was feeding off of your blood while keeping you trapped in a dream?” He pressed, innocent curiosity all over his face. 

“Yes, Jack.” You stated simply, really not wanting to explain all of this right now. It wasn’t as if you’d just been strung up and drained of your blood all day or anything. 

He shifted in his seat to look at you, “So what did you dream about?” 

You stopped, unsure what to say. Silently, you looked up to the front seat to look at Dean, hoping with every fiber of your being that maybe that dream was some premonition, “It actually wasn’t bad,” You explained with a small smile, “It was everything I’ve wanted my life to be for a long time.” 

“Doesn’t sound like a bad way to die,” Jack commented, “Y’know, stuck in a perfect dream world where you can’t feel yourself slowly being murdered.” 

You cringed a little at the way he explained it, especially since he did it with his boy-like smile. “I guess you’re right, Jack.” You chuckled. 

“Well now that you saw your perfect life, maybe you can work on making it real!” He chirped excitedly. 

Again, your eyes found their attention on Dean and the way the moonlight and headlights highlighted his features in the night and the way he occasionally peeked back at you to make sure you were okay. How could a girl not fall for him? “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” You said with a smile. Maybe he was. 

[somefantasticplace]

MISTER AND MISTER

We asked comedians Vic and Bob the same questions in separate rooms. Then we compared their answers…

HERE for pictures.

What are the rules in your relationship?  Is there a line that you'd never cross?

Vic: We've never needed to have rules - apart from who makes the tea next.  We never speak to each other on the phone unless it's to say, 'I'm not coming in today,' or 'Will you bring some milk in?’ We have completely functional phone calls because we see each other every day.  We live about 10 miles away from each other. We're very medieval in that we do all our writing with a pen and paper.  Bob tends to hold the pen more and write things down more, but that's entirely down to my idleness.  I have to do the drawings because his drawings are indecipherable.

Bob: If we don't want to work, we don't have to and we never make an issue of it.  We never phone up and say, 'I'm really sorry, I've got to do this or that.' We just say, 'I'm not working today.  See you tomorrow.' We're both quite unassertive, so there's no obvious dominance.  It could be [why neither of them is the straight man].  We compromise - it's unspoken. We talk about most stuff, but not sexual things.  I don't know why that is.  You always imagine that everyone else does. If he's been out with a lass, I'll say 'So how did it go?'  I don't really ask anything like, 'Did she have nice tits?'

Tell us a secret about the other.

Vic: He's got an anal dysfunction.  Let's just say there's some kind of angle involved.  He backfires.

Bob: He collects a percentage of his used condoms in a jar and keeps them.  He does!  Last time I saw it was in his house.  So there you are!

What surprises can we expect in the new BBC TV series of Randall & Hopkirk (Deceased)?

Vic: I think the best bit is a very camp psychedelic episode, set in a big toy shop, with giant puppets and evil mannequins. it's got that late-60s Avengers feel.  I fly through the air a lot.  I was hurled down a corridor by a flaming man [no need to swear- ed].  No, he was on fire. It's always good working with Tom Baker.  When we're together we camp it right up.  He even gives me a kiss - it's quite full on and I wasn't expecting it.  He was telling me something really close up and he finished off by grabbing hold of my face and going mwwwwwww. I was pretty startled.  You don't think, 'Oh, he's a good kisser!' You think, 'What's he doing?'

Bob: There's one bit where we're in a jungle and Derek Jacobi is in a wheelchair with his face peeled off; Dervla Kirwan is on a sex machine (a punishment machine that gives women orgasms continually until they hate it); Emilia Fox is having a fight with a huge lady prison officer; and I'm being beaten up by two huge men.  It's a lovely little tableau.

Hopkirk (Vic) is Randall's (Bob's) spectral minder.  Who would you choose as your spirit guide?

Vic: Don Johnson from Miami Vice because he'd be suave.  Or Michael Knight from Knight Rider.  Or Peter Glaze [of Crackrjack].  He was quite short with little round specs and he'd look good if he appeared behind a bush in spectral form.

Bob: it would probably be quite good to have Jim [Vic's real name is Jim Moir].  He'd do anything you asked.  I'd get him to spy on people and report back.  I think he'd Iove it. I don't suppose he could carry a camcorder, but I'd like to see images from D-grade celebrities’ homes and Jim would be up for doing that.  I'd send him to spy on Anthea and Grant.  Could it be true that no one watched Anthea's show?  I take no pleasure in that.  I just couldn't believe her viewing figure was zero.  You'd think Grant would have tuned in, though.

Who has the better sense of style?

Vic: Bob has his own particular sense of style, which I admire. He’s a very clean man, but he wears dirty clothes.  I admire that because he pulls it off.  He sometimes buys unsightly shoes and I'll say, ‘I think we should burn them.' I've burned a lot of clothing and taken photographs of it.  I took a photograph of a pair of old woman's shoes on fire beneath a standing stone with a pool around the bottom.  I had eight copies printed; I'm going to frame them and offer them out at Christmas.

Bob: I have no sense of style and I get a lot of abuse for it.  But I'm beginning to think that I'm the more stylish man because I have no style.  I don't buy anything.  This is all bought for me by my girlfriend [points to his chunky sweater and scuffed jeans].  I hate male perfumes, male jewellers.  I hate walking into a room and the first thing people see is your suit.

Vic/Jim has said: 'People can't seem to understand that Vic is just a character I play.' Are they two different people?

Vic: It just goes back to the fact that not many people can pronounce Moir [rhymes with lawyer]. I changed my name because I was only going to do one night - and I thought it was right for that night.  'Vic' is when I'm on TV.

Bob: I think Vic and Jim are one and the same.

Who would you least like to be chained to a radiator with?

Vic: Terry Waite. Or Donald Duck.  I don't like the way he looks, I don't like the way he speaks.  His attitude is all wrong.  And his nephews!  If they were chained as well I'd slit my throat.  Eat them?  I'm not sure anyone's ever eaten a cartoon yet.

Bob: Bubble from Big Brother.  I'd probably irritate him - it wouldn't be a good mix.  I think Vic would pick Bigfoot out of Bigfoot And 7he Hendersons - that big hairy thing.

You wake up one day to discover you are women.  What kind of women would you be?

Vic: Probably much the same as the men that we are.  Vaguely interesting.  I don't think we'd be smart.  Eclectic.  I'd be wearing Victorian clothing, a high-necked, long, black dress, looking like a widow.  Or Miss Havisham in Great Expectations.  Dusty and dowdy.

Bob: I'd be the same as I am.  I’d be a mummy. I’d be like Nigella Lawson, but anonymous. Jim, he would be like Ulrika.

Complete the following: I’d die if I ever had to… again.

Vic: …live.

Bob: I couldn’t face doing the conveyancing on a house again. I used to do that in another life.

How do you make your kids laugh?

Vic: Stupid walks, fart jokes – they always win. I can’t fart to order, but I can belch to order. Words always make kids laugh. You’ve got to get on their level and sing things like, ‘There’s a woman on a bike, wike, thike, nike, fike, like.’ They love it.

Bob: Repeating a non-word such as ‘uballah’ over and over, very loudly – that seems to get them going. Or walking like a monkey.

What would you never, ever lend the other?

Vic: My car [a Jaguar], as he’s always crashing cars. The interior of his car [a Lexus] is like a council tip. When we were filming, we had a boot sale and put everything from his car on a trestle table. There was cat litter, one shoe, a bra, plants, food, jam – everything you could possibly imagine - stashed away.  He doesn't have his cars long.  I'd say it takes him about an hour and a half to fill one and perhaps two hours to wreck it.

Bob:  My dog and my cats.  He'd be useless.  He'd probably feed them the wrong stuff.

How do you know when he's down and how do you help him snap out of it?

Vic: I ring up Middlesbrough Football Club and tell them to pull their finger out.  He doesn't know I do this.  He gets into a terrible depression if they aren't doing very well, but that's the only time he does get depressed.  He always cheers me up with his cheeky grin.

Bob: I don't bother, he's always down, so there's no worries.

Who has the better body?

Vic: My body is turning into what it was like as a young boy - there's nothing there really.  Bob's is very manly - a big hairy chest, broad and brawny.  I'm in pretty good shape.  I do a lot of walking.  But Bob's in better shape than he's ever been.  He has this secretive world where he does a lot of digging.  He moves gravel around and stuff like that.

Bob: We fluctuate.  You'll see photo of him sixth months before and he'll be as trim as a tuppence.  But at this moment in time, I might be able to top him.  One thing Jim does is put weight on his face.  If he's had a Christmas where he's scoffed and drank for a week, it all goes on his face.

If you could send the other on a course, what would it be?

Vic: Fly-fishing.  I think he's got a secret wish to be a fisherman. We've been fishing about twice in 10 years.  I think it's something he'd be into.  I think he'd also benefit from learning how to draw. I would imagine his children can draw better than him.

Bob:   An assertiveness training weekend.  He came into work yesterday and said, 'The builders are after me for money.' I said, 'Have they done owt?' He says, 'Not that I can see.' So I said, 'It's very difficult, Jim, but when they phone up, if they haven't done the kitchen, the dining room and the bedroom, at least say, "Could you have the kitchen finished by five?" before you give them the cash.' He says  'Yeah, I'll try and get something out of them.' So he phones the builder and says, 'So you want some money? I'll put the cheque in the kitchen drawer.' He couldn't do it!

You’re in a room full of smart, beautiful women.  Who do they gravitate towards?

Vic: Neither of us, I'm convinced. They'd probably turn their backs us. Maybe they'd gather around Bob first because they'd want to mother him and I think that's the first urge of a group of beautiful women in a room.

Bob.  Jim.  He's sassy.  He's a single man and there's an air about him. You wouldn't notice me walking into a room.

Could you order for each other in restaurant?

Vic: Definitely.  He'd have what you consider old person's food  - tongue, potatoes and cabbage, and a steamed pudding with custard, with tea or a lager.  If he chose for me, he'd go for something more obscure. If there was something odd on the menu, I'd try it.

Bob: Jim always has the most bizarre thing on the menu.  He likes to try things.  He'd order me potatoes.

If you were invisible for a day, where would you hang out?

Vic: Can I breathe underwater or be ethereal?  I'd float over the capital and blow down chimneys and through windows at quite high speed.  I wouldn't be that interested in spying on anyone.  I might like to creep into a tiger's cage or maybe get inside an apple.  I wouldn't find anything interesting in being a peeping Tom.  I'd rather spy on a cat than a person.

Bob: I'm tempted to say at Grant and Anthea's again, but the truth, of course, is that I'd hang around wherever in 24 hours you'd see the most nude women.

How far would you go for friendship?  Would you: a) lend him your underpants; b) give him your kidney; c) help him on the toilet?

Vic:  a) I wouldn't want to wear his underpants.  Have you seen the state of them? b) I'd give him my kidney, depending on how many I had spare on my plate.  He'd enjoy it. c) I would help him on the toilet, yes, if I had to.

Bob:   a) Yes, I'm sure I would. b) Can you survive with only one?  I'd think about it. c) Yes, definitely.

What is the other's most irritating habit?

Vic:  He would probably say blowing his nose on his clothing.  But he quite often leaves some marmalade or something on the front seat of his car, so, when you get in, you really need to put a towel down first.

Bob: Not buying drinks.

What's the most endearing thing he's ever done?

Vic: Just being him really.  He always makes me laugh.  We're not present givers.  We ignore Christmases and birthdays.

Bob: There's lots. He bought me a very rare record, which surprised me. It was an original copy of Free Live! He always looks after me. With the odd lives we have, we do have to look out for each other. It's one of the stabilising things about being in a double act. You can't start being poncey because you've got the other person with you. You can help each other out.

What scares you?

Vic: I've got a terrible fear of heights.  Before I pass out, the sky comes in and I start ducking.

Bob: The thought of my children getting hurt.  You see something on the telly and think, 'God, if that were them, I couldn't bear it.'

Do you go on holiday together?

Vic: We do.  We've been off on our own a few times - we've been on motorcycling holidays, we've been camping.  We're probably quite insular.  We act like children.

Bob: On holiday, he's a bit too busy for me.  He can't sit down.  We're in a cafe and I just like watching people.  He'll be saying, 'Have you finished your fag?  Come on!'

If the partnership ended tomorrow, what would you both be good at?

Vic: I'd probably just paint pictures.  I think he'd like being a gardener or maybe do up houses.

Bob: I'd like to be a gardener, if I was financially able to just garden.  I can't act, so I wouldn't go down that line.  Jim does it already, but I suppose he'd like to paint.

What sort of old people will you be?

Vic: I will sit in an old people's home, staring out of the window, listening to a distant Alsatian.  I've often imagined myself sitting on a park bench with a dusty novel.  And a bottle of milk. If they stop putting milk in bottles, I'll be cantankerous and lead the march to Trafalgar Square to reinstate bottles of milk. I'd imagine Bob would be very much the same, but he'd be sitting on a dusty chair with a bottle of milk watching the TV - anything that's on.  He's a channel hopper.

Bob: Quite traditional, really: nice tweed suits, brogues, lonely. Together would be nice. We would probably be... [sighs at the inevitability] in a pub.

Former solicitor Bob Mortimer (42) was born only a few months and a few miles apart from Vic Reeves in Middlesbrough .  They didn't meet until 1986 when Vic was performing at the Goldsmith's Tavern in London.  Vic thought Bob was 'quite quiet' but it transpired he was eating a macaroon and didn't want to talk with his mouth full. Bob lives with his girlfriend Lisa Matthews and their children Harry (4) and Tom (3) in Kent .

Vic Reeves (42, James Roderick Moir to the Inland Revenue] lives in Kent with his wife Sarah (though they are separated) and their children, Alice (8), and Louis (4). It’s just down the road from Bob, at whose house they write every day. The two have had many series on TV including Shooting Stars, Families At War and Bang Bang It’s Reeves & Mortimer. Vic has also published a book of his paintings, sunboiledonions (Michael Joseph, £12.99).

Eve

Nov 2001