#silly again. so anyways i had a ginger ale too

[broke-on-books]

😍😍😍

[e-dubbc11]

ericca my sweet! i thought i missed the deadline but saw you were keeping it open a little longer so SHOOTING MY SHOT

can I pls request taking care of our sweet Matthew Murdock when he’s sick and tucking that fine ass into bed (bonus points if he’s too tired to undress himself…!)

and congrats again my love, so happy our paths have crossed on this silly little site!! 💕

My lovely Kay, thank you and thank you for sending in this prompt. I have it in my head that when Matt’s sick, he doesn’t like to admit it so that’s what I went for here, I hope you like it!

Scarlet Fever

Oof…this gif. Nuff said. Anyway…moving on…

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: I think there are a couple swear words in here, Matt being stubborn, and fluff

Word Count: 1.6k-ish

Karen sounded a little panicked on the phone. “We need your help, y/n.” She said in a very low whisper.

“Sure Karen, what’s goin’ on? Why are you whispering?” You asked.

You heard cars passing in the background, people talking, and sirens off in the distance. She must be outside.

“It’s Matt, I’m whispering AND I’m outside because I’m hoping he won’t hear me but he’s burning up with a fever, a little delirious, his hands are clammy, he’s just a mess but he won’t go home. Foggy and I can handle the case that we’re working on but he needs rest.” She said.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you closed your eyes and let out a long exhale. Your thoughts flashed back to your days at Columbia with Matt “I’m fine” Murdock. He never wanted to admit he was sick, ever.

There were times when you had to tie him to the bed literally so he would stay put and to say Matt was unpredictable when he was sick, was an understatement.

“Ok, well shove him in a cab and I’ll wait for him at his apartment and see if I can get him to rest.” You told her.

Karen’s reaction was relief when you told her you would babysit the problem man child. “You’re a lifesaver, y/n! Thank you!” And she hung up.

The walk to Matt’s apartment was a short one but you wanted to make sure you were there to meet him when the cab arrived but on the way you stopped to get supplies.

Tissues, ginger ale, cough drops, Nyquil…you weren’t sure what he was experiencing so you just bought the entire pharmacy.

The cab pulled up to the curb, Matt got out and you paid the driver. “Thank you!” You waved to the driver and watched him drive away.

Matt’s tie was loose around his neck and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone.

“They called you? I told them I’m fine.” Matt said, his voice a little raspier than usual.

You touched the back of your hand to Matt’s forehead and cheeks. “You’re not fine, Matty. Your skin is on fire.”

“You didn’t need to come take care of me, y/n.” He said.

Grabbing his elbow, you held onto him while you walked towards the building and up the stairs. “Yeah well, who else is gonna do it, huh?”

He scoffed at you. “Pfft, Foggy should be doing this. He’s the one that found me asleep on my desk, and then pushed me into the cab, I thought he was getting in behind me but he just shut the door and the cab took off before I could stop him.”

It was hard not to laugh at the image of Foggy shoving Matt into a cab and slamming the door. You tried to keep from laughing but it didn’t work.

“This is funny to you?” He asked.

You covered your mouth with your hand, but the laughter escaped the sides of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, Matty but yes it is funny. What’s not funny is the fact that you won’t admit that you’re sick.” You said.

He tilted his head and stopped to regain his balance, now you really knew he didn’t feel well. You knew about his extracurricular activities, he trusted you with his secret. So you knew Matt didn’t just lose his balance. “I’m not sick, I’m just…off.” He said trying to sound convincing.

“Nice try, Murdock. Let’s go.” You ordered.

You had a spare key to Matt’s apartment, after unlocking the door you set the bag of supplies on the floor while you took his suit jacket off. The heat radiating off of his body was intense so you wanted to find out what his actual temperature was.

“I brought the thermometer, when you sit down, I’ll take your temperature.” You said.

He smiled wide, let you see that adorable dimple and started to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You asked him.

He loosened his tie a little more and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s not a rectal thermometer is it?” He laughed.

“Keep it up and it will be, Mr. Funny Guy.” You snapped back at him.

Matt left his shoes by the door then planted himself on the couch, and removed his tie completely. You noticed he had sweat stains on his dress shirt and his hands were like ice.

“Ok Matthew, let’s see what the winning numbers are.” You said as you held the thermometer close to his forehead. It beeped and the numbers flashing said 103, you needed to get his temperature down.

“What does it say, y/n?” He asked.

You shook your head and pressed your lips together. “It says 103, we need to cool your body down, now.”

“Hey do you remember that time at school when you handcuffed me to my bed because I kept getting up, saying I needed to go to class? Where did you get those handcuffs anyway, they felt like the real thing. I always meant to ask.” He said.

You didn’t mean to but you felt yourself starting to blush. The flash of warmth to your cheeks and the hair standing up on the back of your neck, surely he could tell but he didn’t let on if he did.

“Don’t worry about where I got the handcuffs from, that’s need to know information, counselor.” You quipped back. “Let’s try a cool shower to try and bring your temperature down.”

You led him into the bathroom, turned the water on and made sure he had a clean towel for when he got out.

“Ok get in, I’ll go find you some comfortable clothes.” You told him.

He gently tugged on your shirt and pulled you towards him. “Wait, I think I may need a little help…undressing.” His face was so close to yours and he rubbed some of your hair in between his fingers.

You swallowed hard. “Very funny, Matthew, you’re delirious. I don’t have time for this, I’m trying to help you get better.” You said very flustered.

Since college, you’ve always had a little crush on Matt but you pushed it down and away because you felt you were better off as friends anyway. But you didn’t expect your feelings to surface now, you had suppressed them for so long.

“You don’t want me to get hurt, do you sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

You took a step back away from him. “Take your glasses off, Matty.”

As he removed his glasses, you reached for the buttons on his shirt and slowly started to unbutton them from top to bottom. Naturally, you just closed your eyes as you continued, your heart was racing, his breath warm against your eyelids.

You gently pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and it floated to the floor as you reached for his belt. Your hands were shaking slightly at the sight of Matt shirtless, his broad shoulders, perfect chest and abs. It was hard not to stare but you managed to unclasp the belt and the button on his pants.

“You’re staring, y/n.” He said.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say except “No, YOU’RE staring.”

“Real mature y/n, good comeback to say to the blind guy.” He said with a warm smile.

“I think you can do the rest.” You said practically running out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

Your heart was in your throat and now you were sweating as you waited for the water to boil for some tea. You heard the shower stop and waited for Matt to get out. He emerged from the bedroom wearing sweats and a t-shirt.

“Sit down, Matty. I’ll take your temperature again.” You told him.

Matt sat down on the couch, he had put his glasses back on and his hair was damp. You sat down on the coffee table in front of him and took his temperature one more time. 100.8.

“What does it say, doctor?” He smirked.

“100.8. It’s better but not quite there yet. I want you to get in bed, some rest will help. If you’re good and take a nice long nap, I’ll tell you where I got the handcuffs from.” You let out a little laugh.

“Deal.” Matt said.

You helped Matt into bed, removed his glasses, and left some ginger ale and a bottle of water on the nightstand along with a couple of Tylenol. “I’ll stay until after your nap.” You said.

Matt stopped you from walking away. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Matty?” You said.

His voice was slightly raspy. “Can we talk about some other stuff when I wake up?”

You knew what he meant by that question. Sitting down on the bed, you leaned forward to gently kiss him on the forehead, his skin was still warm with a slight fever.

“Sure, Matt. I don’t have anywhere else to be.” You told him.

Matt sat all the way up. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” You whispered.

The amber color of his eyes was beautiful, you could easily disappear in them and didn’t stop him when he placed his thumb and forefinger on your chin, closed the gap between your faces and gingerly placed a soft kiss on your lips.

As you slowly opened your eyes, you said to him “You realize you probably just gave me whatever bug you have, right?” You said while laughing.

“Well then it will be my turn to take care of you, sweetheart.” He said.

“Go to sleep, Murdock.” You said as you rolled your eyes.

After sliding his door shut, you sat down on the couch with your book although it was hard to concentrate on anything except that kiss. That kiss you had wanted for so long and it was almost as if you could still feel his soft lips on yours. You definitely had a lot to talk about, but for now you would just sit, smile, and…wait.

Tag List: @skvatnavle @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @munsonownsmyass @elgrandeavocados @gijos @freshabogados

Others that might enjoy: @kayhi808 @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @missbeewrites @hellskitchenswhore @fluffyprettykitty

Please please tell me if you’d like to be added or removed from either list and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Big Baby Sick Baby~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

@zuffer-weird-girl​  I def wanted to post this waaay earlier but I was just too beat to do it. I would like to contribute to the sick Kai headcanon pool asap lol)

One of the main reasons you weren’t having/adopting kids anytime soon was because sometimes you were stuck seemingly raising a grown man yourself. How unfortunate for Pops who asks you for grandkids on the daily! You’d need to put it on hold especially considering the fact that Kai was not as mature as he let off to be all the time. One of the times was now.

You stood with your hand on your side while the other held a bottle of semi thick, smooth liquid to be drank. You tapped your foot impatiently as he grumbled and looked up at you. “I’m not taking that stuff so you can piss off immediately.” He wasn’t usually this blunt with you...well not more than you’re already used to of course, but today was different. Today he was sick and by God it reflected on his expressions, appearance, and actions as well. He was sluggish, slow and bumbling. It was shocking to most men to see him make so many mistakes. On top of that, he had refused to eat or drink along with announcing a headache as well. His eyes were lackluster and held their share of baggage underneath, creating dark circles. Even his skin was noticeably more pale today. Anyone with eyes could see the Capo was sick but in case this wasn’t enough to see with eyes, you could hear it in the way he spoke with a rasp and by the various couching and sneezing fits as well. “Chisaki please, I’m begging you here.” You pleaded with him and he scoffed from his desk. He paused trying to do his work and look up at you with enough annoyance that you would’ve thought he was blaming you for this. “I’m fine damn it. I’m not sick, I can’t be sick. Look at all the precautions I take.” He waved his hands dramatically and you sighed. “Kai please...everyone here knows you’re sick. I can tell too. Not to be rude but you literally look like shit right now. Can you please just cooperate just this once? I’ll give you anything you want if you just come with me.” You tried to negotiate/bargain with him but he wasn’t having it. “And neglect my work? Absolutely not, kiss my ass.” This would be the equivalent of a child refusing bedtime. 

Well fine. If he was going to act like a child then you would have to treat him like one...

“Kai Chisaki if you don’t get your ass up and come with me to the surface I WILL TELL POPS.” He paused for a moment and thought this though. Pops would most definitely tell all the men to halt the business for today and send EVERYONE home. Pops may have passed the Hassaikai crown to him, but the old man was still behind the scene taking over from time to time after self proclaimed retirement. Pops would also be the one to come down to his office and grab him by the ear and literally yank him up to the surface. He sighed and slowly stood up, reluctance clear by the way he glared at you. “Fine.” He grumbled while shutting down his operations and calling it a day. You breathed a silent sigh in relief as he trailed behind you to the upper layer and to your bedroom. Once inside, he leaned against the door and watched as you prepared the bed for him. “Don’t just look at me, silly! Go on, go get in the shower. Drop this on the floor when you get in there, okay?” You reached into a plastic grocery bag and handed him a vapo-shower tablet packet. “When did you get this?” He asked with genuine curiosity. “Hmmm? Oh! I actually noticed you earlier this morning and how you were behaving. I went out to the store real quick and picked up some important stuff because I planned on getting you in here today. Now go shower.” You kissed his cheek and he complied. Once out of the shower, he dressed in his pajamas and laid on the bed where you prepared a spot for him. By now you had the lights off with the curtains and blinds closed. There were some dim nightlights glowing in their usual spot, and the humidifier was running as well. 

His tired eyes carefully watched you dig through the plastic bag and pull out various items: a thermometer with disposable sleeves/covers, chicken noddle soup, ginger ale, saltines, a set of three simple face towels, aloe infused fuzzy socks, and some unfrozen popsicles. Not to mention the liquid medicine sitting next to what looked like ibuprofen. “My angel, have you become my health care provider?” He pathetically flirted with you as you rolled your eyes. “Oh hush. Even if I did, you couldn’t be flirting with me like this in here anyway. Doctors can’t have relationships with patients...right?” He chuckled at your pondering and you looked down at him with a smile. “Enough of that haha. Let’s try this real quick, okay?” You reached for his lips with the thermometer and he complied. His temp wasn’t too bad. He was running a low grade fever but knowing how rare it is for Chisaki of all people to get sick, of course he would be feeling like dying at the moment. You started by pouring the grape flavored medicine onto a spoon and holding it towards. “No, I-” as soon as he opened his mouth to deny it, you shoved it inside and he was forced to swallow. His face afterward was priceless. “That tasted like absolute shit. Please never give it to me again or else.” He threated and you rolled your eyes. “Or else what? What can you do, huh? I don’t work for the medicine company that makes it. Now be quiet and take a few ibuprofen.” You smiled at him and handed him the pills. He swallowed them down dry before letting his head flop back down onto the pillow with a groan. He took a few long blinks when suddenly there was a comfy, cold, damp rag on his head forehead. He wiggled his toes and realized the socks were on his feet as well. His sleepy eyes scanned the room for you when suddenly the bedroom door opened. 

“Heeeey yoooou. You finally woke up.” You spoke softly as you entered the room with a tray. “W-what?” He was thoroughly confused but also disoriented from his little nap apparently. “Yeah you fell asleep for a little while so I went downstairs to prepare the food stuff I got you. I also went to get a bottle of water.” You rounded the bed to take a seat next to him. By now his hair was disheveled a tiny bit but he looked to be a little better. He would still need to hydrate and get plenty more rest, but for now he would need food. “I got saltines and chicken noodle soup since it would be more filling and also easier to keep down. The ginger ale should help with an upset tummy and look there. The popsicles are finally frozen and I got your favorite, the blue one. The coolness should help soothe you a bit.” He nodded and slowly sat up, moving the damp towel to the bedside table and holding the tray on his lap. He began eating and his eyes watered just a bit. “Kai what’s wrong, is the food not staying down? I can bring you the trashcan to puke in real quick!” You almost stood up but he stopped you just in time. “The food is just fine. I suppose I’m just extremely thankful to have you taking care of me like this. I’m grateful to you, and I love you my angel.” He looked up at you with such emotion in those eyes that you knew it to be nothing but the truth. “I love you too Kai. Finish your food and get some more rest so you can get better soon. Okay?” You wanted so badly to sneak another kiss on those cheeks but you knew the risk of couples getting sick and continuously passing it to each other. 

He finished his food and drinks before slowly laying back down and bundling himself in the soft blankets, sighing with glee. “Get well soon, love.” You stroked his hair gently until the sound of faint snoring could be heard.  

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

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[morceid]

I Hate The Color Orange

SPENCER REID X FEM!READER

Summary: Spencer goes into work sick, and Y/N takes him home to rest.

Category: FLUFF. THE FLUFFIEST FLUFF IMAGINABLE.

Warnings: vomiting, general gross sickness, delirium, some swearing

Word Count: 2094

A/N: this is my first sickfic! i loved writing it so much! this is also my entry into @veraiconcos​ ‘s writer challenge. her fics are wonderful and you should check her out!

The first thing Spencer noticed when he woke up was how slow his brain was moving. It wasn’t like he couldn’t notice, especially considering how fast his mind usually worked. The second thing he noticed was the chills all over his skin even though he had multiple blankets covering his lanky body. 

Despite this, he pulled the covers up and got out of bed. He began to get dizzy as his brain caught up with his body. He pushed through as much as he could. He wouldn’t skip work even if he had a concussion.

As you walked into your place of work you noticed Spencer by the coffee machine. You had been pining after the young agent for quite a while now, and no one knew. Not even the beloved tech goddess Penelope Garcia, who was also your best friend. As you looked the genius upland down you noticed the discoloration in his face. He looked like he was on the verge of becoming a zombie.

You remembered an article you read about gum helping take your mind off of throwing up because your mouth was too preoccupied with another task at hand.. Your mind was wandering to what Spencer’s mouth could do…

“Hey, do you want some gum?” The words you spoke came from your vocal cords and your mind detached them from yourself. The orange package was flipped open and your hand was reaching towards Spencer.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” he was surprised by your gesture.

“Really? Are you? I read an article about how gum takes the idea of throwing up off of your mind because your mouth is already preoccupied.”

“How did you-”

“The orange might balance out the green tint on your face.” You explained.

“Oh, yeah I probably should take some.” He took a stick from the small box in your hands.

“Take it easy today, okay?” You hoped the concern in your voice wasn’t too obvious.

About an hour or two later you were working at your desk and felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N?” Spencer was behind you when you turned around, “Do you happen to have more gum?”

“Sorry, Spence, you took the last stick.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.” It was not fine.

Spencer walked over to the coffee machine. His hands trembled and his eyes looked more panicked than normal as he picked up the pot of coffee. He tried pouring it and spilled it onto the counter. He put the coffee pot down and rubbed his hands over his eyes. If you were close enough, his breathing would be deep and you would see his eyes closed. He slammed his hand on the counter and ran towards the bathroom, earning a head turn from everyone in the bullpen.

“You should go check on him,” Prentiss was looking at Morgan.

“Uh uh, I do not wanna deal with a sick Reid. It’s not like he would accept care from me.” He retorted.

Before the other agents around you knew it, you were out of your seat and halfway to the gender neutral bathroom Spencer ran to.

“Spencer?” Instead of an answer you were greeted with a retching sound, “I’m coming in.”

You found Spencer hugging the porcelain toilet, which was now filled with an orange tinted vomit.

“Spencer, did you swallow the gum?”

He nodded.

“Do you need to go home?”

He moaned and nodded in response before throwing up again.

“Not yet, I guess. Are you gonna need anything to eat considering its all coming out? I can get something from Garcia’s office.”

He shook his head.

“I’ll go pack up your stuff and let Hotch know I’m taking you home.”

Normally he would begin protesting at this, but his body was shaking against the toilet and he could feel bile coming up his throat.

You walked out and told Anderson to make sure no one went into the bathroom before heading to Spencer’s desk. You picked up all the files that were laid out and evenly separated them between Emily and Morgan.

“Hey!” They exclaimed in unison.

“Sorry, guys. Spencer is sick as shit. I’m taking him home.”

“That damn pretty boy. Tell him I hope he feels better,” Morgan said, somberly taking a case file.

You hopped up the stairs two at a time going towards Hotch’s office and popped your head in.

“Hey! Spencer isn’t feeling too hot, so I’m taking him home. See you tomorrow.”

He was on the phone but he waved goodbye and mouthed to take care of him.

Next stop was Garcia’s office.

“Hey, Pen,” you said, walking in.

“Oh my god, you scared me! Anyways, what's going on?” She turned around from what looked like a horror gameplay livestream.

“Spence is sick. Like really fucked up. Do you have any ginger ale in your stash?”

She turned back to her desk and dug into her secret drawer compartment.

“Spencer should really stop working himself over. I mean, I get that all he wants is validation and praise, but c’mon, boy wonder! Your brain isn’t all that you are, you still have a human body! Gosh, he’s so pretty, but honestly- What’s that look in your eyes?” She cut off herself as she stood up from her chair.

“What? What’s what look in my eyes?”

“Oh my god, you LIKE him! Oh my god, oh my god. Give him all of the kisses in the world for me and remember to use protection-”

“Penelope Garcia!”

You tried to retaliate but she was already pushing you out of your office and telling you to “get your mans!”

You walked back to the bathroom with Spencer’s bag on one arm and yours on the other. You thanked Anderson for guarding the door and opened the door.

“Spencer I got your things, and Garcia had some ginger ale in her office if that- Spencer?”

He was passed out on the ground, clutching his stomach.

“I knew something was wrong when i stopped hearing him throw up!”

“No, Anderson, it’s not your fault. He’s probably fine, just sick. Could you help me carry him to my car? I think he took the metro today.” It would be pretty hard to carry the gangly man when you were already carrying two bags.

The journey to your car was a hassle, but that was fine. After you turned on the air conditioning Spencer woke up fairly quickly. He was confused as to why he was in your car, and you told him you were taking him home. He was too sick to be awake and too tired to care, so he fell back asleep shortly after that.

When you pulled up to his apartment he was still asleep so you gently shook him awake.

“We’re home, Spence. You need to wake up.”

“Our home?” He mumbled.

“No, silly. Your apartment.” You said, chalking it up to his sick delirium. Spencer doesn’t like you like that. Right?

He stumbled out of your car and into your arms. You held him up with your hand against his back as you walked up the stairs of his building. He leaned against a wall as you dug into his bag for the keys to his apartment.

He fell onto the couch immediately and buried his face in the pillows.

“It’s too hot! Everything is uncomfortable!” he grumbled as he started loosening his tie. He took off his button-up dress shirt to reveal a regular t-shirt he wore as an undershirt. Before he took off his pants you stopped him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Keep those on!” you said as you sat on the arm of his couch. “Drink this.” You gave him the ginger ale Penelope gave you, remembering the conversation before you left the office building.

He reluctantly turned over onto his back and took the can you left on the table.

“Thanks for the straw,” His lips puckered around the plastic tube. It made you think.

“No problem.” You pat his calf, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t. “Is it too hot for me to lay next to you?”

“Nope,” He continued drinking the bubbly soda, pressing against the back of the sofa.

You laid in front of him but towards his face.

“Is it your tummy that’s bothering you?” You asked.

“It’s everything. I’ve had a headache all day and I keep getting flashes of hot and cold. I think that’s the first full sentence I’ve been able to get out all day,” He laughed

You reached your hand down to his stomach and pressed down.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

You continued to rub his stomach through his shirt. Every once in a while he let out a satisfied whimper. He asked you to put your hands under his shirt and you complied. You tried to keep the blush off of your cheeks when he asked you, but some things you just can’t help.

Spencer was asleep by the time you had realized how long you two had been sitting there. You left work at around noon and now it was four. You started to pull away from him and got up from the couch. He pulled in closer to where you were previously laying as you called Penelope.

“Hey Y/N! Since it’s been a pretty long day at work and there’s no case me and the girls are going out tonight. Wanna join?” Garcia spoke as soon as she answered your call.

“Uh, I’m not sure I'll be able to,” you whispered.

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU AT HIS APARTMENT STILL?!” Penelope yelled through the phone.

“Shh! He’s asleep on the couch.” Spencer mumbled something. 

“I think you just woke him up. Gotta go.” You hung up. “Did you say something?” You moved over to the couch and rested your head in front of where his laid.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” His eyes were still closed as he spoke.

You didn’t respond for a while and he opened his eyes, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Yes, of course, Spencer. I just canceled with the girls.” You said. There’s no way Spencer felt the way that you had for so long.

“No, no! Its not like that! I- I- Y/N!” he groaned in frustration.

“Then what is it, Spencer?” you moved his hair away from his eyes, thinking it might help him get the words out.

Instead of words Spencer leaned forward and took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly. It took you by surprise at first but after a couple seconds you leaned into it. His lips were soft and his mouth tasted like a sweet nothing. He reluctantly pulled away from you and his eyes looked watery like he was gonna cry.

“Hey. hey, hey, Spencer. It’s okay.” you ran your hands through his soft curls, “I like you too.”

“I like you so much. I just wanna cuddle with you forever.” A single tear streamed down his face.

“Oh my god, don’t cry!” you laughed out, “I’ll cuddle with you if you really want.” You climbed back onto the couch and pressed kisses onto his forehead.

You fell asleep in one another’s arms, feeling content with the world. You were no longer hiding from your feelings and instead facing each other. Everything was finally okay. You were the only two people in the world at that exact moment, and you would be until you woke up in the morning.

Spencer woke up first. His hands were on your waist and he remembered the dizzy words he spoke to you the near-evening. His mind swam as he tried to remember your response, but he was so sick he just couldn’t. But Spencer didn’t forget, did he?

There wasn’t much Spencer could do without waking you, so he tried his best to do so gently.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s morning.” He whispered.

You woke up and jolted your eyes open. You thought of the night before and instantly calmed down. You looked into Spencer’s deep, honey-colored eyes and kissed his still soft lips. He leaned into you and kissed back.

“So I guess last night went well.” He said as he pulled back, the kiss remembering him of the memories you created in his arms.

“Very. Are you still feeling sick? I can run to the store before we get to work if you need gum.”

“No, I’m okay,” he kissed your nose, “I hate the color orange, and that's all the drugstore has in stock.”

[notmrskennedy]

Professor, pt 1

A/N - so i heard from like four of you which is enough to warrant me posting drafts that weren’t supposed to see the light of day - ANYWAY this was originally written in third person and let me tell you it takes a ridiculous amount of effort to change tenses like holy hell. 

(Technically the prequel Friendliness but can stand alone if you really want it to. There’s a part two to this so watch out for that tomorrow.)

Summary - Spencer meets a professor and falls in love for a few hours

W/C - 2k

Warnings - none-ish? there’s a small smattering of violence and horrible changing of the tenses 

-----

Spencer can’t help the irony that he’s in a freshman college class for the first time ever while protecting one of the students. Who knew that a tiny club of DnD players could incite so much rage out of an un-sub? So here he was, trying to blend in—even though he’s 25, he still looks 14 and there’s really no real reason why he should be worried about being caught—in order to protect a freshman who was more pimple than male specimen. 

Joesph—the poor kid in question—takes a seat in the front row and Spencer’s obligated to sit within tackling distance, though he hopes it won’t come to that. Hopefully, Morgan will have the kid the un-sub goes for and Spencer can just enjoy being in college again. The painfully familiar auditorium seats, the stale air, and bad fluorescents feel more like home than he cares to admit. 

College hadn’t been all too unpleasant. High school he’d gotten picked on mercilessly. College, however, had meant getting doted on by hot sorority girls and earning the protection of frat boys—they’d picked up rather quickly that he knew football strategy better than they did after Spencer had hustled a TV and 400 dollars from them. Sure, he didn’t drink, but every single drunk teenager had welcomed him with open arms and lots of ginger ale. 

There’s chatter and for the ten minutes before class starts, Spencer is torn between trying to figure out which song is quietly playing around the room and watching for a particularly rage-filled college student serial killer. Instead, he just finds too many bored faces. Most of the kids are drinking coffee like the best of them and he’s itching for his next fix just looking at it. 

The first two rows: a terrible vantage point to be profiling, but a beautifully defensible post. He watches absently as one of the TAs, who looks a little younger than him, organizes three stacks of papers on the front desk and flips through several different pages on the podium. His attention is focused solely on you for nearly a minute too long—he can hear the voice in his head chastising him for how often he gets distracted by pretty people. 

You look of the fragile sort, the in-the-lab kind of future scientist. There’s something about you that’s captivating. It might be the way you keep reorganizing the papers to perfection or maybe it’s the way you study the room so closely. And while he thinks that you might not be able to physically stop someone, you sure look like the kind of person that could crush him in chess. 

He’s 25 and is considering chess as a marriage proposal.  

Joesph shuffles his books around in the seat in front of Spencer and you, the beautiful TA in question, hold a watch up as you move to the centre of the room. Class is starting. Class is starting and he’s hopeful the professor never actually shows up. 

He notices your watch is on your right wrist—are you left handed?—as you smile widely and clap her hands together. First day jitters seem to keep everyone silent, waiting on baited breath for you to start. Spencer would stay on baited breath for the rest of his life for you. You were utterly captivating after all—he could see the drool from several students’ mouths a few seats over. 

“This is Anthropology 101,” you announce. “If this isn’t your class, you’re free to leave. Or stay if you want. Did you guys know that anxiety disorders affect more than 40 million US adults? Or 1 in 5, I guess, if you want the easier pill to swallow.”

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat and he wants to raise his hand just to ask you to marry him. 

“Anyway,” you sigh, leaning back agains the front desk, “I spit out a lot of facts. Usually something that begins with ‘did you know’ won’t be on the tests. I try to be fair. Which brings us to ice breakers.”

The class collectively groans. You scoff. 

“Oh hush, I’m the only one doing the ice breakers so chill out. Jeez.” Spencer waits patiently for your soft breath and then your further announcement of, “I’m officially Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, but that’s like only if my boss comes in or for any emails you send. You can call me Y/N because that’s like normal. I got my doctorate in forensic anthropology a year ago and I’ve been teaching since I started grad school three years ago. You’re in safe hands, I promise.”

He almost kicks himself. You’re the professor. How many times had he been nearly kicked out of a classroom when he was in grad school for saying he was the professor? How many times had he been 18 and trying to get an ounce of respect for himself? 

You continue, waving your hands about like you could pull your ideas back down to earth. “Um—a fun fact about me is that I am not welcome in certain parts of the world for ‘violating’ what are called exhumation laws, which is silly in my opinion. I had the legal right to carry that head on the plane and—and I hope you did the reading because there’s a first day pop quiz.”

The entire class lets out one simultaneous frustrated whine that alights something almost wicked in your eyes. You wave over two students from the other end of the front row and they begin passing out test papers as you explain. 

“You’ll have a total of fifteen minutes to answer ten questions. We’ll start on my mark. If you have any trouble, give me a shout and I’ll help you out. After this, we’ll go over the syllabus and if you’re lucky, leave early.”

Spencer’s passed a test and immediately notices there’s no place for a name. Just a bolded “Student #21” at the top. Another girl raises the question and you snicker. “I like puzzles,” is the only answer you give before the time starts. 

Question four: what are the top three songs you’ve been listening to? Please list.

Question six: why are you taking this class?

A: This is a requirement

B: I heard it was easy

C: I heard the professor was hot

D: I really enjoy anthropology! (liar)

Question nine: Creationism or Evolution?

Question ten: Quickly. If you were going to have dinner, would it be with Bill or Hillary Clinton?

Spencer can’t hide the grin he’s got the entire test. It’s all ridiculous get-to-know-you questions. He can tell what merit you’re getting out of them. There’s one judging study habits, one judging religion, feminism, politics—you’ve created her own little innocuous questionnaire. Spencer was sure the students would just think you were strange, but he saw the cleverness. 

Spencer also notices that once you notice him, you don’t stop noticing him. He wonders what you see. You’re so obviously profiling him that it hurts. Do you see the FBI agent? The scholar? The doctor? The drug addict? The man in a boy’s skin?

Your timer beeps and you shout for pencils down. Your makeshift TAs are dispatched to collect the papers and you make the stacks perfect when they make it to the desk. You move to the whiteboard, a set of papers clutched in your hand, and lean against it to address the class. 

“Test go alright?” your grin is contagious and Spencer can’t help but mirror it. You glance at Spencer, turns back to the class, and tuck your hair behind your ear. You let the class chatter on for a moment, setting the papers down on the table, and readjust the undone cuffs of your white button down. He never thought that a sweater vest and jeans could look so hot. 

You smirk and check your watch one more time. “Let’s talk about tests because I know you all have questions. Everything on the test is either written on the board, on the notes, or in the study guide—if you fail after that, come to office hours. I’ve got Advil for the hangovers.”

#

Thankfully, Joesph is one of those students who has to speak to every single one of his professors. Spencer waits patiently behind the kid, trying to keep the smell from the lack of deodorant just out of range. 

He keeps a hard gaze on all of the students moving in and out of the auditorium. There’s nothing to see, just a lot of students with a lot of normal college apathy. No anger, no serial killer, no one to tackle. 

“Sometimes the BO is worse than a corpse’s expulsion of gas,” you joke from your place atop the desk. Spencer looks up, and furrows his eyebrows as his brain processes. Your face falls for a split second, but your curiosity replaces it just as quickly. Joesph’s jaw hits the floor, stumbling for some way to explain himself or maybe some half decent way to insult the pretty professor. 

Spencer laughs, probably a little more than he should have, considering he wasn’t supposed to out himself as an FBI agent. You tuck your hair behind your ear again and, for someone younger than 25, you are surprisingly wide eyed with perception and curiosity. 

“Do you like puzzles, Doctor—“

“Reid,” he supplies, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Spencer.”

You raise an eyebrow, chewing on your bottom lip in contemplation. You turn your focus back to Joesph—a boy worse at talking to those scoring higher than an 8 than Spencer was at the same age. “So, Joesph, why does the good doctor need to be within tackling distance of you?”

Joesph flounders, turns to hide his blush, and yelps like God himself has come down to kick him in the ass. Spencer takes one good look at the 18 year old girl charging towards a pimple of a boy and he launches before he can give much consideration to how much its going to hurt. 

But between the noticing and the launching, he makes a list: she’s got so much black eyeliner that Emily’s high school yearbook photos would be jealous; she’s about to inflict about a 9 on the pain scale if she’s left to her plan; there’s obviously no plan other to scratch Joesph’s eyes out; her nails are the size of tiger claws and Spencer desperately wishes he had a better pain tolerance; there’s no weapon. 

The tackle takes seconds. It’s a practised movement. Roll. Knee. Handcuffs. The girl is screaming and crying and kicking and biting. His arm’s on fire and she’s struggling enough that it’s taking more than ten seconds to get the handcuffs on. 

It’s calculated as he presses his knee harder into her back. She yelps and stills long enough that Spencer closes the handcuffs on her tiny, sliced up wrists. The cutting explains some things…

“Hence the tackling distance,” You sum up, bending down just slightly to look the killer in the face. Your nose wrinkles. “You had very distinct ideas on the cultural value of suicide.”

Spencer shakes his head, hauls the girl to her feet, and beckons for Joesph to follow. The entire world falls out of view as he manhandles the girl into an easy walk. The students step to the side to gawk, and he’s thankful for the wide berth. If someone got hurt, the paperwork alone—

“It was nice meeting you, Dr. Reid!” you call and he glances back over his shoulder. You’re waving around the stack of papers in your arms, utterly ridiculous, terribly adorable. He hopes his smile is more suave than love sick, but the fleeting flirtation is especially over when Miss Unchecked Rage kicks out as Joesph comes into her line of sight. 

Spencer throws his whole weight into keeping her down. There’s no room to fall in love after a day. Especially with someone on a college campus halfway across the country from him. There’s even less room to manoeuvre Miss Eyeliner even without Joesph waddling into her eye line every few seconds. Seriously, he thinks, how hard is it to keep behind me?

[samingtonwilson]

Sweet Creature

Summary: sam is in love with the girl at the front desk of the VA, but he has the ability to help-- so he will. (named after the harry styles song but not ENTIRELY based off it. takes place pre-TWS, through AOU, until right before CW) 

Pairing: sam wilson x reader

Warnings: language. NSFW, sexual content, 18+. very slightly angsty.

A/N: i don’t usually write smut and here i am, writing 2 sex scenes in one one-shot. anyway sam wilson is an angel who has been through a lot and is still full of love.

gif below isn’t mine.

She’s hired in autumn and it’s like color bursts with every step she takes. 

Dull grayscale fades into red and yellow leaves, orange and pink sunsets. The burning sun finally cools, grains of desert sand stuck to his every memory slowly trickle away with the chilly breeze. Jack-o-lantern grins hurt his cheeks less, words exchanged over lukewarm coffee now spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg come easier. 

He hears the whistling of birds at dawn without the thought of malfunctioning wings, sleeps in a bed of softness without an ironic longing for dirt and rock mattresses under attacking stars. 

He falls in love in autumn. And smiles.

A smile that’s gap-toothed and silly by winter. A smile that brings warmth and sweetness to bitterly frozen December mornings. One which he offers her as he slides a cardboard cup across her desk, a white napkin tucked underneath it. 

She sees him listen in winter. Sees him as he lets others bleed on him while he bandages himself in silence. 

She hears him give heavy advice with a lightness that makes the others chuckle, like glittering rays of sunlight tearing through the blanket of clouds which is spread by mid-afternoon nowadays. 

He demystifies plastic bags that resemble harbingers of death, dispels blame and shamefully missed opportunities in favor of forgiveness and acceptance. He offers ribbon to tie a broken heart together, balm to ease the tightness of guilt. 

And it’s all done real easy. Pain isn’t discounted. It’s merely no longer thought of as the sublime mountain range of Romanticism. It’s real and surmountable, it has a slow-acting— but acting, nonetheless— antidote. There is liberty to be attained. Enlightenment.

There’s hope. A word which had lost its meaning until it’s said with those hot cocoa eyes and that woolen smile. A word that hurts less each time it’s used. 

She watches him radiate heat in the form of realistic optimism in winter. And falls in love. 

They’re setting up chairs one morning in spring. Half-past eight, the smell of percolating coffee and a greasy pink box of donuts in cool air. Sam’s phone is connected to the AUX cord, it plays something bluesy. A little sleepy sounding, but infinitely smooth. 

It reminds her of his voice as he greets her each weekday morning, his smile a saxophone solo and laughter a symphony. 

“I’ve been thinking.” 

Setting a chair beside the one Sam has just unfolded, she smiles. “That’s never a good sign.”

Deep brown eyes narrow in playful annoyance. “Cute.” 

“I’m aware.”

“I want to take you out.” 

She stills, rubber caps fastened to the end of the chair legs like boots are suspended just above the floor. Her eyes meet Sam’s as he stands a few feet away. He wears an effortless, confident smile and she stifles one back. Albeit miserably. “That’s what you’ve been thinking about? Asking me on a date?” 

“Among other things.” 

Something about the way he says it, that soft glimmer in his eyes and slyness in his smile, makes heat rise to her cheeks. She doesn’t look away, though. Simply narrows her eyes and sets the chair down. “Yeah? Like what?” 

He leans in her direction to take a folded chair from the rack behind her. She can smell his cologne, feel the warmth which rolls off him in waves, and something in her seems to catch on fire. Softly, he replies, “Say yes and we’ll talk about it on the date.” 

“Bribes don’t work on me,” she says, nose wrinkled as it almost bumps against his. She smooths his collar with nimble fingertips, gently brushing the cotton of his button-up. 

He watches as she looks up at him through her eyelashes and he nearly loses his balance— clumsy at the sight even as he stands still. 

“Give me until the end of the day to think about it?”

“Take as long as you want,” he breathes before he can help it, practically putty. 

Her nod comes with a smile. Something gentle and sweet. Steps slow and casual as she walks to the door. 

“Sam,” she calls, fingers wrapped around the wooden doorframe. Everything about her posture speaks to a reluctance to leave, a reluctance to follow that stupid advice from her old college roommate to mask eagerness. She grins when he looks up from the coffee he’s pouring. “I want you to take me out, too.” 

He grins as well. The coffee pot is set back down and he slips his hand into his pocket. Casual. 

Right? 

He hopes so. “You free tomorrow night?” 

“Tomorrow night?” she repeats with a laugh. Colorful against the beige walls, scuffed tile floors. “A little eager?” 

A shrug. Casual. 

But the look he gives her? Far from. “Maybe.” 

She looks away with a frown of consideration. Sends a smile to one of the regulars of Sam's sessions as he slides past her to enter the room with a short wave in greeting, sun-creased fingers and anemia-paled nails a brief flourish. “How about tonight then?” 

The gushing red of the first date seems to bleed into the second. 

The days between pass with sly looks, smiles hidden behind coffee cups and wrapped around smoothie straws. It’s as if his eyes have remained in hers since that night over a dinner she can’t remember the taste of. That same glimmer, that same miserably hidden desire and elation she knows are in her eyes, too. 

He touches her more in those days when the sun lingers a bit longer and the petals of flowering dogwood blossoms stick to the bottom of her shoes. Deep amber toned skin meets hers when a thumb sweeps over her knuckles, when a hand is placed at the small of her back, when fingers tangled together are hidden between them as they walk to the Hall C vending machine together— whispers about no other vending machine having the ginger ale she likes. 

There’s longing in those touches and whispers. In the looks exchanged across the lobby of the VA. In his posture as he stands in her doorway, a single long stem white rose in his hand. And especially in his gaze as he scans the length of her, done up all pretty for a movie he doubts he’ll be able to pay attention to. 

It’s just as well, though, as they don’t make it to the movie.

She invites him in, mumbling something about needing to fasten an earring, and forgets about it as soon as he takes a step to invade the space she’s kept open for him all along. 

A gentle breath when she thinks her eyelashes might caress his skin before she can and her laugh is a little nervous when she plucks the rose from his gentle grip. “I should put this in water.” 

He nods, but neither of them move. It’s only a second that his eyes slip a glance to her lips. But in that second he’s conveyed the shakiness in both their chests and the rose is forgotten at her feet as his lips claim hers. 

Warm fingers curve around the nape of her neck, holding her steady as he pours every bit of longing and withheld desperation into the kiss. She grasps the softness of his thin sweater in her fists and pulls him closer, smiling against his lips when a groan is ripped from his chest. 

A blind kick— one which has Sam worried that he’ll put a hole through her wall— shuts the door and a graceful spin has her back pushed into the splintering wood she’d painted turquoise a week after moving in. 

The brass knob digs into her side but it’s entirely ignored. All she can perceive is every solid, stone-like inch of his body— hot like fire beneath burgundy cotton— pressed against her, his soft but urgent lips moving with hers. 

It’s another minute, hour, decade perhaps of firecracker heat before he breaks the kiss. He smiles at the weight keeping her eyes closed, forehead lazily set against hers. He visually traces the slight swelling of her lips, the smudged gloss he’s sure is smeared over his own mouth in a thin, shiny layer on her cupid’s bow and the skin below her bottom lip. 

She sweeps her tongue over it, as if it’ll help bring her back to Earth. Her eyelashes flutter up toward her brows. Irises a mere ring around pupils blown wide, she gazes at deep brown eyes just barely honeyed by overhead bulbs. 

He watches his thumb glide over her cheek, feather-light over her lips. Commits the image and feel to memory. 

There’s amazement in his eyes. Perhaps at the confirmation that she is just as soft as he’d imagined. Perhaps at the feeling of finally. And, through harsh breath, his voice is hoarse as he says, “The movie’s in twenty minutes.” 

Before she can reply, he presses a kiss to her left temple, her left cheek then her right. Another kiss at the corner of lips now pitched upward and smooth lips glide over her jaw, then just below. She cranes her neck for him. “I have movies here.” 

His smile is felt rather than seen and it inspires one of her own. A strong arm winds around her waist, tight and answer enough. But, once he’s kissed his way to her lips again, he voices one anyway, “Even better.” 

She closes whatever centimeters of distance separate their lips and sighs when his hands slide behind her thighs, lifting her so that she can hook her legs around his waist. Her arms wrap around his neck and, somehow, she feels as if they aren’t close enough. Not with the layers of fabric separating them, not as he stands only feet from her door. 

His step backwards is hesitant, slow. 

“Down the hall,” she tells him, lips brushing his, “first door to the left.” 

His eyes open, but struggle to remain so when she presses kisses everywhere he had. Barely a foot past the hall entryway, she nips the skin beneath the hard line of his jaw a bit harshly. A soft hiss through his teeth and her tongue soothes the sting. It has his steps faltering until he presses her against the wall to join their lips in a deep but quick kiss. 

Her bedroom door is ajar and requires only the gentle push of her fingers to allow them through. The setting sunlight streaming through her drapes paints patches of her white comforter a deep gold, shining over her mirror and closet door. 

Everything about the space is warm and inviting. From the rumpled grey faux fur throw blanket and the floral rug placed before her bed, to the melted candles in glass jars and sloppily made porcelain vases he thinks she must have thrown and glazed herself. 

He lowers her onto the bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows haphazardly thrown near the headboard, and firmly kisses her lips— but only for a moment. “Baby, are you—” coffee brown eyes pop open to meet hers. “Are you sure? We don’t have to—” 

“I know we don’t have to.” Her nose wrinkles before she smiles up at him, sun outlining her features. “It might be a little soon, but I’ve wanted this for a while.” 

He grins in return. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So have I.” 

She narrows her eyes. A jesting glare, a contradictory smile. “And you waited this long to tell me? Disgraceful, Wilson.” 

“I’ll make it up to you.” The pitch of his voice is lowered, he ducks his head so his lips skim the skin behind her ear. He hears the hitch in her breath when his teeth scrape a particularly sensitive spot and shifts his weight so his hips rock into hers. “Over, and over, and over.”

The grind is faint. Barely there. But her mind reels, her nerves spark. Voice a mess of sighs, she asks, “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Guess you’ll have to be patient and see,” he says, but only once he’s nudged his nose against hers. Spared a long look into her eyes. Watched as her tender bottom lip is bitten.

His hands— such, such good hands, all warm and strong and safe— are everywhere. One grips the tip of her chin to mould their lips together, one skims bare skin just below the hem of her shirt. Fingers soft and the press of them gentle, blunt nails run up her side to follow the curve of her waist, tracing the band of her bra and just barely along the underside of a lace cup. 

He tips her chin upward to trail his lips to her throat. She gasps at the feel of a bite, the lap of a tongue just as his fingers pop the button on her jeans, and the muscles in her abdomen contract as he moves lower. 

His hands now push the knit fabric further and further up— slowly, inch by inch— until, in impatience, she lifts her shoulders and strips it away. Chin set just above her waistband, Sam grins at her. His low laughter is more felt than heard. “A little eager?” 

He’s met with a glower as she reaches back to unclasp her bra and toss it aside— and it only makes him laugh harder. However her frustration is merely a thin veil. A veil which has gone sheer the moment she struggles against a smile. 

Though there hasn’t been a loss of the heat in either of their eyes, their movements are now decidedly unhurried. The drag of his knuckles as he pulls black denim and lace the color of marigolds over her ass and down her legs once he’s tucked his shoulder under her thighs. The slow lift of his gaze as he seems to study every inch of her. The path of his lips and tongue from her belly button to her breasts to her lips. And the languid kiss that follows. 

Her leg hooks over his hip and, though she breaks the kiss, she speaks against his lips, “You’re a little overdressed.” 

Feeling him smile, she pushes against him and manages to roll him onto his back so her knees dig into the mattress. A playfully smug waggle of her eyebrows and she giggles— and, oh, he thinks his heart might burst at that. At the sight of her disheveled and a little scuffed from his ministrations. At the sight of her so bare and vulnerable, but so trusting and strong and happy.

He stares up at her, not hiding any bit of wonder or love, as she imitates the way he’d pushed the fabric of her shirt up her torso until he pulls it off the rest of the way. When she leans over him to kiss him once more, his hands cup her face to hold her there, barely registering in his mind how she unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans. 

Thoroughly kissed silly, she presses swollen lips to his jaw, his neck, shimmying lower until she’s knelt between his legs. A lift of his hips helps her remove the bothersome fabric and she gives him a slow study of her own. That deep shade of his skin— interrupted only by a few lifted scars littered over his chest— seems to glow and reflect the golden shade of sunlight. Early evening sunlight which brightens already sparkling eyes, an already shining smile. 

Just as she makes to lean down a bit, intending to teach him the feel of his hard length down her throat, he sits up, fingers comb through her hair to guide her lips back to his. 

His arm then wraps around her waist and he pulls her into his lap, those soft, deliberate fingers slipping between her legs. The kiss gains further urgency when she moans into his mouth. When she rolls her hips to grind against his fingers. When he slips in a finger, then two, as his thumb moves against her clit and she arches into him. 

A slight lift of her hips only to bring them back down, Sam’s lips are at her neck now. A stroke of his thumb, a curl to his fingers as they’re thrust deep inside her. Her whimper is broken, a little choked as her walls tighten around his fingers. “Fuck. God, Sam.” 

He looks up at her. Stares at the shadow her eyelashes cast over her cheekbones, the plumpness of her parted lips, that wrinkle of tension between her brows. His hand moves faster, impatient as if he can feel the tight coiling in her stomach, the heat slowly creeping through her limbs. 

A whine escapes his throat as she practically shivers at a particularly slow, purposeful stroke of his thumb. “There we go, baby. Come on, I’ve got you.”

She says something. Something she herself doesn’t grasp. Stutters it, stammers it, slurs it.

Arm resting on his shoulders, her nails dig into his back harshly as the coil snaps. All at once. Walls fluttering, pulsing around thick fingers. Heat impossibly higher in trembling legs and tense arms. 

But it’s not enough. 

Not until, a slight burn and quiver in her thighs, she rises to her knees and grasps him at the base. She swallows over the thickness in her throat as she twists her wrist in a slow stroke of her own. Over his answering shudder, she says, “Condom.” 

A steadying breath. “I’ve got one in my wallet.”

He looks over her shoulder to the floor where the dark denim has been carelessly tossed and nearly whimpers.

Then she giggles. Presses herself closer and tilts a little to the left to reach into a drawer in the bedside table. She tears the package and seems to go purposefully slow as she rolls the latex down the length of him, smiling as her hand, loosely gripping him, sweeps back up and he softly groans. “Did you come here with expectations, Sam?” 

“Just precautionary.” 

Another laugh and a skeptical, “Uh-huh.”

So stiff she feels empathetic pain, she sinks down on him with little resistance. A bit of a lift, then down further. 

She, resisting the downward pull of her eyelids, watches him. As his eyes close, lips part, chest falls. All as he sighs. A loud rumble of relief from deep in his chest. 

He hits a point so far inside of her, it very nearly hurts. So thick, she feels she might have been split in two had he not taken the edge off so expertly. 

And he finds himself having to regulate his breaths. Not to choke at the silky feel of her stretched around him. Not to embarrass himself so quickly because it’s been so long. Since he’s had sex, yes— but especially since he’s felt anything near what she inspires in him, from wonderment to adoration, from blissful to so much love. 

“You doin’ okay?” through light laughter, she asks. Her voice is not much more than an exhale and there’s a soft squeeze around him. Not nearly at the strength of his fingers on her hips, though, bruising and stilling as she experimentally rolls her hips. 

She can’t help her smile at the hissed grunt he lets loose, at his own reacting laughter— dry, a little embarrassed. “Gotta give me a second, baby.” 

It’s only a few seconds— seconds she spends familiarizing herself with the heavy weight of him inside of her— before those same hands beckon movement. First by adjusting her legs so she crosses her ankles behind his back, then by pulling her impossibly closer.  

She pulls off of him inch by inch, sighs a moan at the slow drag of him, and whimpers at the snap of his hips, his voice gruff as he grinds out, “Fuck. You feel so fucking good.”

He punctuates the statement with a hard thrust, drawing a gasped whimper from her, and effectively takes control as his hands guide her hips forward and back. One hand, however, slides across her skin to her neck, his fingers curving around her nape and tangling through knotted hair to pull her into a messy kiss. 

She pants against his lips, kiss broken when his hips— definitely showing off— take on a somewhat circular motion as he thrusts. Her head tips back as he relearns the taste of her throat. 

His teeth scrape that spot he’d learned about just a few minutes— although it feels like a lifetime— ago just as his fingers slide between her legs, carefully passing over that bundle of nerves before pressing down fully with rapid movements. 

It’s as if that firecracker heat now sparkles up her spine, back arching into him as her vision seems to white out. Her walls tighten, her moans broken. 

“God, fuck.” His voice is harsh. Deeper than usual as he watches himself disappear inside her, each thrust more difficult than the last with the way she clamps down harder. 

He tries to stall the warmth that spreads through him, tries to hold himself back, but as his eyes trace every bit of her before focusing on the way pleasure twists her features, he thinks he might snap. Voice now verging on revelatory, he breathes, “So fuckin’ good, so perfect.” 

“Sam— Sam, I’m—” 

He doesn’t voice how thankful he is. Doesn’t praise the heavens aloud because fuck knows he wasn’t going to last much longer at all. 

He thrusts deep, hard. Sweet words mere babble against her lips, hips and fingers working quicker until—

His name is a mantra. The mingling of kaleidoscopic visions beneath shut eyelids and alight sandalwood incense nerves a kind of meditation. 

“Goddamn.” He slows but doesn’t stop working his hips against hers. The sounds from his throat blending with hers as he feels the quick squeeze and release around him, pulsing waves overtaking him entirely. “Fuck, fuck.” 

One last thrust. As far as he can go. And he spills white hot into the condom, words a mixture of curses and praises, declarations and damnations. She’d forgotten her own name in the throws of it all until he says it. Repeats it. A confirmation of reality to them both.

Silence apart from jagged breaths. Sunlight depleting, but she finds his skin still glows, eyes are still bright as he stares right back at her. 

It starts as a silent chuckle through her nose, one that is more felt as she shakes than heard. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip in an attempt to hold it in— this odd, messy laughter of happiness, and surprise, and so much love. It bubbles out of her anyway, especially as he grins in return. 

She doesn’t care about the goofiness of her laughter. The hiccupy punctuations liberally littered throughout. Doesn’t care about the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, along the bridge of her nose. The smudged makeup it sharpens. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips, smiling when he follows her after she pulls away. 

“So are we gonna talk about that condom you brought?” 

A groan born of a snicker, he buries his face in the crook of her neck. His hands follow the curve of her waist, the indents of her discarded bra against her back and shoulders. Touches meant to memorize, rather than rouse. His thumbs sweep across her ribcage. “Told you. They’re just precautionary.” 

She gasps. Entirely too dramatic. “‘They’?” Her nails dig into his shoulder a little mean when he refuses to loosen the strong arm around her waist. 

He immediately lifts his head to glare at her and she glares back, far more convincing than he could ever be. “‘They.’ ‘They’!” 

She pokes her fingertip into his side. Once, then twice when his hold on her only tightens. “Did you have a big night planned, Sam? Huh?” 

Twice more and he sighs, pushes off the bed to roll the two of them over, smiles at the surprised squeak falling from her lips. He slips out of her as he holds himself above her. “You never know what might happen.”

“At the movies?” she asks. He’s sure he would’ve been able to hear the grin in her voice even if he hadn’t seen it stretching swollen lips. Another jab to his ribs and he hisses. “Just in case we fucked at the movies?”

In one hand, he grasps both of her wrists and pins them against the mattress. “Try it now.” 

Though his grip is loose enough for her to simply twist out of, she glowers up at him. But the glimmer in her eye, the way her toes trace up his calf stirs something still burning inside him. Tone deadpan, she murmurs, “Oh, no. What a terrible position you’ve got me in. What will I do now?” 

Though night falls quickly, draining the room of light but not desire, she sees her bedroom walls turn pink, her comforter now the hue of strawberry bubblegum. 

It seems to blossom more and more each night they spend tangled together beneath her sheets. On the kitchen counter after an early morning trip to the farmer’s market. In her car when the film is just too boring and she kisses him just too fucking much to stay in that fucking theater any longer. Against the wall beside his front door after he’d vanished with that new super-friend of his to chase down a ghost story on a busy highway. 

A pink balloon which pops before summer. Wilted scraps cast a shadow over cotton candy skies, browning once-green grass now gone unwatered. The sun burns tense skin and she fans herself with an informational brochure from the plastic pockets mounted to the wall. 

A summer like the frosty can of lemon-lime soda she drops after having just purchased it from the Hall A vending machine. Barely contained, set to combust at the first purposeful touch. Bent. Entirely wrong. 

She watches as new counselors take over Sam’s sessions. Watches as regulars fall away. Watches as CNN pundits berate a different Steve Rogers than the Please, just call me Steve who drops by monthly with a fresh donation check signed by Tony Stark— a Steve allegedly semi-responsible for the destruction of Sokovia. Watches as the story shifts to one of hope in the glowing hands— and on the wings— of new recruits. 

He stands outside her door that August evening. Shadows under his eyes, a scar below his hairline. “I can explain,” is his greeting. 

The green of a freshly mowed lawn stains her white canvas sneakers. Humidity leaves a sheen of perspiration over the high points of her cheeks. One of the Mickey Mouse band-aids the VA jokingly stocks in the break room first aid kit pasted over her knee. He stores the sight away, something nice to hold onto. “Can’t you always?”

He follows her inside, she knows she shouldn’t allow it. 

He stands too close, she knows she shouldn’t allow that either. “It’s been two weeks. You’ve called maybe twice. You won’t tell me where you’ve been.”

And she believes him when he says, “I can’t tell you where I’ve been. I told you, some things are classified.” 

“Jake Tapper on CNN says you’re moving to New York,” her voice is as small as she feels under the warm, safe hands he holds her face— and every bit of her heart— in. 

There’s little anger in the eyes she watches him with, almost none in fractured words. And he’s fully aware he’s undeserving of that. Of her neverending kindness, that small smile hidden under the long-suffering frown she’d offered upon seeing him in the hall, the home she provides. 

But not the warm apartment with the gauzy drapes and mismatched dining chairs— it’s the heart she somehow hasn’t taken back. Neither through the Steve needs me to find someone explanation which is meager at best, nor the I’ll be back as soon as I can goodbye each time he gets even the faintest lead on the assassin who owes him a new steering wheel. 

He isn’t sure why she’s stuck around. Or why she’s allowed him to walk in and out this way. He sighs and gives her the most detailed explanation yet, “Things are a mess upstate. Steve, Natasha, Stark… They’re scrambling. Trying to get everyone who can help together to avoid another Sokovia.” 

“You could’ve asked my opinion.” She wishes she could sound more stern to even herself. But her voice is a plea and overhead lights do for her filled eyes what the sun does for the ocean. Blinding glitter. “I wouldn’t have said no.” 

“I wanted to tell you in person. Talk to you about it face to face.” 

Though he’s made his decision. Made it the second Steve asked. And she knows it.

Because this is the same Sam with ribbons, balm, and hope. The same Sam who knows there is no liberty to hold when it isn’t made available to everyone. The same Sam who does what’s right no matter the personal cost— and what’s right is helping, simply because he can. 

She forgets that, beyond the barren walls and slowly emptying shelves of his home, summer still scalds bare shoulders and lemonade made from concentrate is still being sold by five-year olds from plastic lawn tables. Too busy boxing up his life. Too tired from nights— and early mornings— marked by urgency and premature goodbyes. 

It isn’t like the first time. Tears punctuate laughter. He holds onto her tighter and thrusts into her harder. Leaves marks as if reminders of himself he knows will physically fade but hopes remain emotionally. Each kiss an attempt to imprint the shape of his lips on the brightness of the soul she’s already embroidered his every touch onto with sharp needles and gilded thread. 

On the eve of his departure, he’s a sinner in confessional. Tells her everything as he rolls them over, a delicate entangling of their fingers while the movement of his hips is anything but. “I love you,” is said against her lips, repeated when he hears her breath stall. But this time as he looks into her eyes. “I love you. I have for so long.” 

He finds himself unable to stop. Strung out on each moan and gasped breath of hers and how long it might be until he can hear it again. How long it might be until he can feel her tighten around him again. “You’re so good. My sweet, beautiful girl. I love you so much.” 

She can’t speak. Not around the knot which has tightened itself at the base of her throat. The knot which only lets his name through, only lets please’s and profanity wrapped in the voice of an angel through. 

She loses count of how many times he says it. Only remembers the different inflections each time. From revelatory and amazed, urging and pleading, to firm, as if it’s indisputable fact. And that, coupled with the way he angles himself to drag against her clit with every bit of push and pull, causes her to fall over the edge twice— nerves overshot and almost painfully sensitive. 

He wants a third. Needs to give her a third. Something to remember him by. So his fingers shoot down between them, thumb hooked between her legs. Even as she grasps his wrist. Her eyes shut, her back arched and head thrown back. 

“You have one more in you,” his voice is rough. Slurred syllables, dragging consonants. His free hand grabs her chin, an attempt to physically bring her gaze back to his. But her eyelids remain closed. “Look at me.”

Eyelashes with remnants of the day’s mascara flutter up toward her brows. Hazy. Yet through it all— through the sparks shooting up her spine as she comes for the third time and through the tears which seem to have found a home above her lashline throughout the past week— she sees him. She’s always seen him. She always wants to see him. 

So as he paints her pulsing walls in warm white ribbons and tells her he loves her for the nth time, she breathes, “I love you, too. Also have for a long time.” 

A beat of silence. Shallow breath held. And he smiles. Silly and warm, like winter in summer. “And you waited this long to tell me? Disgraceful, baby.” 

She rolls her eyes— well-meaning and fond. A giggle that makes him lose his mind. Thumbs brush feather-light over his cheekbones. “Come back to me in one piece and I’ll make it up to you. Over, and over, and over.” 

He makes her a promise that night. 

One he echoes the next morning and every subsequent night they manage to catch each other on the phone. The promise which becomes a goodbye whenever, after a day or two of personal leave as far as SHIELD and the Avengers are concerned, he’s set to take her heart back to New York with him.

“I’ll always come back to you.” 

---

[isidar-mithrim]

Writings Masterlist

So, with the amazing help of @ermynee – ana, for who met her on Discord! – I’ve updated and renewed my writings masterlist! 

You can find it linked at the top of my blog alongside the ask and the archive buttons, but since that link is only accessible from browser, I thought about sharing it on a post as well, which I’ll tag with “writing masterlist” for easy finding ^^ Edit: I've just realised that the post a bit messy if seen from the app, but whatever, the links are there ;)

Anyway, you can find all the stories and series on my Ao3 page as well ;)

Featuring: Harry Potter

As though by a mother: Voldemort is back, and Harry keeps revisiting the graveyard in his nightmares.

A new beginning: While Ron and Hermione are in Australia, Neville and Harry are about to begin their career as Aurors, the raw memories of the battle still fresh in their minds, among some happy thoughts.

Next Generation

Letter for beyond: It’s time to go to bed at the Potters’ house. This evening, though, instead of picking a bedtime story Lily wants to read to her father a letter for another Lily, one she’s never even met.

‘Godfather and Godson’ series (see below)

Silliness of love (see Hinny)

‘Godfather and Godson’ series

Features of the past: In the middle of the night, Teddy seeks the comfort offered by a surrogate of the Mirror of Erised.

What parents would want: Teddy is about to leave for his first year at Hogwarts, but he can’t clear his mind from an uncomfortable thought

Hinny

Extra – Souls of Ink: Now, though, there was something she couldn’t talk about with any of her brothers. Or better, someone. {Ginny Weasley & Tom Riddle’s diary}

[NSFW] Fantasies: Harry can’t stop dreaming about Ginny. {HBP Missing Moment – PWP – Explicit Language}

Letter for beyond (see above)

Silliness of love: Nineteen years later, James and Al have just left for Hogwarts, and the least Harry can do to cheer Lily up is having someone over for dinner. Ch 1 – Ch 2 – Ch 3

Better than fireworks: It’s going to be his first Christmas without the Dursleys, and Harry can’t express how grateful he is for Ron inviting him to the Burrow. The fact that Ginny will be there too is just a very welcomed addition. {Muggle AU – Hinny Incognito Elf 2019}

Featuring: Neville Longbottom

Of Malus, hugs, and toads {‘Letters from Hogwarts’ series}: For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed. The first story is that of a boy who lived for too long in the belief that he wasn’t a wizard.

A new beginning: While Ron and Hermione are in Australia, Neville and Harry are about to begin their career as Aurors, the raw memories of the battle still fresh in their minds, among some happy thoughts.

Worth twelve: Neville Longbottom, esteemed member of the D.A. and beloved professor at Hogwarts, is at home for the Christmas break. While his wife Hannah takes care of the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron, Neville is able to enjoy some alone time with his sweet daughter. They’re happily playing when she suddenly gets upset, and Neville will have to use all his tact, a clumsy Transfiguration attempt, a story, an old Chocolate Frog Card and a confession to understand what’s the problem and to make her feel better.

‘Have a biscuit’ series

“Do you happen to have a biscuit?”: When and why did Minerva start keeping a tin of Ginger Newt in her office? This is the brief story of how it all began. {A prequel}

Falling down: It’s the morning after the Third Task, and Neville has been summoned by McGonagall. He goes there worried about his marks, having no idea he’s about to find out that he lived for a year near the man who tortured his parents into insanity.

Standing up: Minerva is powerless in front of Carrows’ tortures, painfully aware there’s only one way to protect her students: don’t protect them. She also knows that, if Dumbledore was still alive, nothing like that would happen, and she can’t help thinking she failed her most important duty: to keep Hogwarts safe… to keep Hogwarts home. It will be her own students to prove her that hope isn’t lost yet.

Moving on: It’s the summer after the war, and Minerva invites Neville for tea. He goes there sure she just wants to know how he’s doing, unaware that she’s about to change his life.

‘Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum’ series

The first DBBG: Voldemort has fallen, and the Wizarding World can celebrate and relax, safe. Augusta can’t believe her luck: despite actively fighting, all her family escaped the horrors of the war, and Alice and Frank can finally raise their child in a peaceful world…

The sweetest DBBG: Two old women, strong and stern. Two short letters, one written almost seven year before the other. Two boys, one fearful and goofy, the other fearless and fierce. Yet, they are both known as Neville Longbottom.

The merriest DBBG: When the news of Voldemort’s ultimate defeat reaches St Mungo, the Healers celebrate with joy and fireworks. Although, not all the patients are able to understand what’s really happening.

The last DBBG: Alice Longbottom’s life is hard to be considered so. Yet, at her death Neville won’t be able to hold back his tears: despite everything, he very well knows he’ll miss her deeply.

Featuring: Hermione Granger

Of Matilda, War and Peace: {‘Letters from Hogwarts’ series}: For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed. The fourth is that of a girl rational enough to know she was special, but too rational to admit it. 

Deluded hopes: Hermione has the best friends she could wish for, the ones she shared the most intense and dangerous moments of her life with, the ones that watch her back, the ones that would be ready to die for her — the ones she’d be ready to die for. She’d never, never switch them with anybody, and yet, sometimes she can’t help be a little envious of Parvati and Lavender friendship, of their long chats shared in the dark of the night before falling asleep. {Quadruple drabble}

Dazzling illusion: Voldemort has fallen. For many wizards and witches is time to live again, while others are still licking their wounds, picking up the debris, grieving the fallen ones. For Hermione, it’s time to find her parents and abruptly drag them back into reality.

Night in Transylvania: Young Kate Stendeer is a capable and appreciated teacher. Many years have gone by  since the day she asked her students to read Night in Transylvania, and she still regrets it. That was the day she saw pure disappointment in the eyes of the brightest student she had ever had… That was the last time she had ever seen her. Perhaps, crossing paths with the Wizarding World will finally ease her guilt.

Romione

Until it’s over: Hermione looked up at him, surprised, but incapable to hold back a smile. Maybe he had listened when she’d said that next time there was a ball, he should have asked her before someone else did, and not as a last resort. Or, the brief story of a whispered promise made during a long due dance.

Standing on tiptoe: May the 2nd, 1998. The battle is over, and after Harry’s tales about the last events that brought to Voldemort’s defeat, the trio leave the Headmaster’s office, headed to Gryffindor Tower. Despite being exhausted, there’s one thing Ron needs to do before resting.

Extra – Night in Transylvania (see above)

Silliness of love: Nineteen years later, James and Al have just left for Hogwarts, and the least Harry can do to cheer Lily up is having someone over for dinner. Ch 1 – Ch 2 – Ch 3

Featuring: Minerva McGonagall

The right call: What if Minerva had something to object about not picking Harry as Gryffindor Prefect? And what if the last time she and Albus argued about an appointment there was another Potter involved, and Albus had been the one vouching for him?

Beyond the Veil: What if Minerva, in a coma at St. Mungo’s after being Stunned by four spells, had the chance to choose between staying or coming back – between living and dying – as Harry did in King’s Cross?

‘Have a biscuit’ series (see ‘Neville Longbottom’)

“Do you happen to have a biscuit?”

Falling down

Standing up

Moving on

Featuring: Albus Dumbledore

Of boggarts, Gobstones and cypress {Letters from Hogwarts – Remus}: For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed. The third story tells us of a child whose life had already changed when he was five years old, and who didn’t believe it could change again.

How it happened that Dumbledore convinced Snape to keep it quiet: Have you ever wondered why Severus, young Hogwarts student, didn’t reveal Remus’ true nature after finding it out because of Sirius’ trick? Well, for a long time I took for granted it was simply because Dumbledore asked him not to. Then, I realised the truth.

The most valuable gift: That Halloween, that terrible Halloween is close. Dumbledore is at the Potter’s, and James shows him something the old wizard can’t help but recognise, even if it’s been decades since he stopped looking for that extraordinary triad of magical objects.

Bounty hunter {Dumbledore asks Remus to be the DADA teacher.}

Balls of wool: Dobby couldn’t have gotten him a more fitting gift.

The right call: What if Minerva had something to object about not picking Harry as Gryffindor Prefect? And what if the last time she and Albus argued about an appointment there was another Potter involved, and Albus had been the one vouching for him?

The irony of life: Oh, the irony of life. How amusing, exquisite and cruel it can be. {Second drabble of the collection}

A pig for slaughter: Lying has never been so hard. {Drabble}

Marauders Era

“Do you happen to have a biscuit?”: When and why did Minerva start keeping a tin of Ginger Newt in her office? This is the brief story of how it all began. {A prequel of the ‘Have a biscuit’ series – see above} {James, Sirius, Minerva}

Farewell, Hogwarts: End of term, 1978. For James, Sirius, Remus, Lily and Severus it’s time to say goodbye. They look at Hogwarts for what they believe is their last time, unaware that three of them will cross its gate again. Unaware that two of them won’t live much longer…

Beyond the Veil: What if Minerva, in a coma at St.Mungo after being Stunned by four spells, had the chance to choose between staying or coming back – between living and dying – as Harry did in King’s Cross? {James, Sirius, Minerva}

Once upon a time: “Once upon a time… It’s a discounted – or should we say classic? – begin for a fairy tale that even more obviously ends with the merry end ‘…and they lived happily ever after.’ But for what ‘once upon a time’ could be more suited than for telling a tale about things that were, things that had been, things that are no more? To tell a story – no, not a fairy tale – that could never end with ‘…and they lived happily ever after’?”

Jily

The first (and last) Dursley-Evans-Potter double date

Farewell, Hogwarts

Extra – The right call (see ‘McGonagall’ and ‘Dumbledore’)

Remus Lupin

Of boggarts, Gobstones and cypress {‘Letters from Hogwarts’ series}: For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed. The third story tells us of a child whose life had already changed when he was five years old, and who didn’t believe it could change again.

Corroded by fate: November 1981. For the first time in his entire life, Remus looks forward to the full moon. Perhaps the agony of the transformation will wash away the ache for their loss, perhaps the madness of the wolf will make him forget that his best friends are two corpses, a traitor and a fistful of dust. {Drabble}

Bounty Hunter {Dumbledore asks Remus to be the DADA teacher}

And yet it tastes good: Victory’ll taste good, they’d promised. And yet, Remus can’t help thinking that war tasted better than Victory

Sirius Black

Whatever: Whatever, Sirius. How hard can it be enduring the pain that pierces your heart for a kiss shared in the dark? {Sirius/James – Sirius is secretly in love}

Beyond the Veil

Silence {Sirius finds the Potters’ corpses – Drabble}

Like yesterday {The dangerous criminal Sirius Black gets into the castle during the Halloween’s feast – Ficlet}

Make a wish {Sirius birthday in 1980 – Double drabble}

October 31st

With the tail between his legs {Voldemort finds the Potters – Double drabble}

Silence

Like yesterday

Extra – November the 3rd – Make a wish

Severus Snape

How it happened that Dumbledore convinced Snape to keep it quiet: Have you ever wondered why Severus, young Hogwarts student, didn’t reveal Remus’ true nature after finding it out because of Sirius’ trick? Well, for a long time I took for granted it was simply because Dumbledore asked him not to. Then, I realised the truth.

Asphodel, bezoar and aconite: It’s Harry Potter’s first Potions Class, and Severus can’t help looking at him, hating his unruly black hair – then, he sees his eyes.

One who I believe has left me forever… {‘Burns’, Drabble 2 – see ‘Featuring Death Eaters}

The irony of life: Oh, the irony of life. How amusing, exquisite and cruel it can be. {Third drabble of the collection}

Featuring: Death Eaters

Burns {because the Dark Lord is back}: A collection of drabbles to recount in about a hundred words the myriad of emotions – fear, joy, fervor, horror – that caught certain Death Eaters in the instant the Dark Lord laid a finger on Wormtail’s Dark Mark, and after almost fifteen years of silence they learned he was back. Each drabble has a different Death Eater as protagonist. Burning, of course, is the Dark Mark. Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5

Petty, pathetic Draco: A journey through Draco’s thoughts and emotions, since the Dark Lord demanded his service to the end of the war.

Sisterhood [Ch 1: Childless; Ch 2: Mother]: Two sisters, two Blacks. One is dark-haired, the other is blonde, but it doesn’t matter. One is childless, the other is a mother. And that’s what makes all the difference.

The irony of life: Oh, the irony of life. How amusing, exquisite and cruel it can be. {Drabble one: Crouch Jr – Drabble three: Snape}

Severus Snape: see above

Miscellaneous

Souls of Ink: Now, though, there was something she couldn’t talk about with any of her brothers. Or better, someone. {Ginny Weasley & Tom Riddle}

Caged: Three Christmases, three cages, three frames of mind. A short journey through Percy’s thoughts, since he left the Burrow to the moment he wished he’d never left. {Ficlet}

Hidden Characters: Seven unrelated drabbles, seven mysterious characters. Will less than one-hundred words be enough for you to guess? {Test your intuition and your knowledge of the saga in a guessing game!}

The irony of life: Oh, the irony of life. How amusing, exquisite and cruel it can be. {Drabble collection}

Touch: A collection of random drabbles with only one thing in common – touch.

The time of Death: Thousand are the facets of Death: for someone it lasts an instant, for others an eternity; for someone it’s a choice, for others an unforeseen surprise. Only one thing is certain: Death will come for everybody. Link 1 – Link 2 {Drabbles}

Rainbow: A drabble for the dreamy Luna, with her her clear honesty and disarming simplicity. {Drabble}

Midnight tea: It was the first time he made tea. It was his first act of kindness. {Dudley Dursley – Drabble}

It’s a lifetime service or death: A drabble for the heroic death of a lion, a drabble for the vile death of a rabbit. {Drabble}

Seven hot wheels: {Meanwhile, in Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing their deaths to a gas leak, but members of the Order of the Phoenix inform me that it was the Killing Curse. - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows} – Because Muggles deserve to be remembered too. {Drabble}

‘Letters from Hogwarts’ series

For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed. These are the stories of four of them. The first is that of a boy who lived for too long in the belief that he wasn’t a wizard, the second that of a boy who lived for too long under the illusion of being one. The third tells us of a child whose life had already changed when he was five years old, and who didn’t believe it could change again. The fourth and longest story, at last, is that of a girl rational enough to know she was special, but too rational to admit it.

Of Malus, hugs, and toads

Of missives, felines and promises

Of boggarts, Gobstones and cypress

Of Matilda, War and Peace

Extra – Night in Transylvania 

May the 2nd 1998

Forgotten fighters: Few words are enough to bare the soul of a centaur – few words, to make him master of his own fate, to make him part of a strenuous fight for salvation. Few words are also enough to describe the helplessness of a gargoyle, the braveness of a knight, the fury of a little giant and the thoughts of many other characters whose effort we often forget about – wrongly so. After all, even a single grain of rice can tip the scale. {Collection of drabbles}

The aftermath: Perhaps May the 2nd 1998 seemed a day like any other to those who hadn’t been at Hogwarts to fight the last, decisive battle. Then the news of the victory and the name of the fallen began spreading and – for better or worse – it suddenly became a day impossible to forget. Ch 1 – The Prime Minister

Unfinished sentences: The war is ended, leaving havoc behind. Wounds and walls can be mended – lives can’t. {Drabble}

Standing on tiptoe: May the 2nd, 1998. The battle is over, and after Harry’s tales about the last events that brought to Voldemort’s defeat, the trio leave the Headmaster’s office, headed to Gryffindor Tower. Despite being exhausted, there’s one thing Ron needs to do before resting.

Drabbles & Ficlets 

(Recap – Summaries above)

With the tail between his legs {The night the Potters died}

Silence {Sirius}

Like yesterday {Sirius}

Make a wish {Sirius}

Corroded by fate {Remus}

Burns {because the Dark Lord is back}: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5

A pig for slaughter {Dumbledore}

Rainbow {Luna}

Midnight tea {Dudley}

It’s a lifetime service or death {Scrimgeour - Karkaroff}

Seven hot wheels {A Muggle family}

Forgotten fighters {The battle of Hogwarts}

The time of Death: Link 1 – Link 2 {Various characters}

Hidden Characters {Various characters}

The irony of life {Crouch jr, Dumbledore, Snape}

Deluded hopes {Hermione – Quadruple drabble}

Dazzling illusion {Hermione}

Touch {Various characters}

Unfinished sentences {George}

HP metas

Muggle clothing in the Wizarding World

Exclamations in Harry Potter

[benhardyisdaddy]

traveling affairs - part 2

MASTERLIST 

(woooow this has been requested by SO many people!!! i hope u all enjoy <3) 

Word Count: 5,415

3 Months Later 

“Why… Won’t… These… Fit!?” 

You’re stood in your bedroom by yourself in front of your long mirror. You were attempting to button up your favorite pair of jeans, but they just weren’t cooperating with you. You were able to fit into them about three weeks ago, so how was today any different? You were holding your breath as you suck in and try your best to button it. No use. It just wasn’t working. You let out a breath and slump. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror as your eyes dart down to your belly. You sigh as you turn to the side and lift up your shirt. You pull the pants down a bit and notice a slight bump. It’s not too noticeable, but to you it was. You run your hand over it and gently press down. It was hard and firm. Just then, a slight cramping feeling hits you. You hiss a bit, but then it’s gone. Your brows are knitted together and you keep admiring your stomach in the mirror from different angles. You were just beyond sad about your favorite pair of jeans. 

***

“Dinner’s done!”

Your new roommate, Joe, had shouted those words from the kitchen. You had finally opted for a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt. At least these fit you. You get up from your bed and slip a photo underneath your pillow - hiding it away from the world. It was your tiny piece of happiness that you had all to yourself. The night you had went to Joe’s pub for the first time, Gwil had taken yours and Ben’s photo on your phone and you hadn’t known about it. 

You only discovered it right when you got back. You right away got it developed and have kept it hidden ever since. You missed Ben more than anything, but you felt silly for that. How can you miss something you never had in the first place? You needed to forget about him, but that was easier said than done. You don’t think you’ll ever stop thinking about him. 

You had walked from your room and stopped suddenly. Your stomach growled slightly, but a bit of nausea hit you as well. You make an uncomfortable face as you continue walking and spot Joe sitting plates on the dining room table. He had on a pink apron that read ‘Kiss the Cook’. He looks over to you and smiles. The second Joe had told you his idea to leave with you, it sounded insane. 

“Y/n, wait! I have an idea.”

You were about to hang up as you hear him call out. You close your eyes and bring the phone back up to your ear, sighing to yourself.

“Just hear me out, okay? This is going to sound crazy, but… What if I went with you?”

Your eyes go wide the second Joe says that. 

“Go… With me?” you ask, confused. 

“I know we don’t know each other well, but I was thinking… I have family back in the states that I miss more than anything. I was thinking of going back anyways. Rent’s kinda expensive over there and any time you wanna jump up and go on another adventure of yours, you’ll have a place to come home to and not have to worry about money or anything. It's a win win for both of us if you think about.”

Everything he said made complete sense. You didn’t have a home to call your own back in the states. You were always leaving and couldn’t afford rent for a place you were never at. He was right, you barely knew him, but for some reason this was the best idea you’ve heard in a long time. You wouldn’t have to be alone either and right now, that wasn’t a good idea. 

“This is going to sound insane, but… Okay.” 

There was a quick pause as Joe takes in what you had just said. 

“Okay!? Really? You sure?” he asks very excited. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness. 

“Yeah! Why not, right? Fresh starts are always a good thing… Even with people I barely know.” you laugh out. 

“This is really happening! Okay, um, let me get everything I need and I’ll pick you up for the airport. Alright?” 

You close your eyes and laugh out at this insane moment. 

“Alright! I’ll see you in a bit.” 

You both hang up as you fall back on the bed and sigh loudly to yourself. You couldn’t stop smiling. Joe was going to go back home with you. You wanna talk about a spontaneous adventure, well here you go. This is it. You sit up and quickly think about Ben. Your smile falls and your heart breaks once more. Somewhere deep down you wish it had been him going with you. You were leaving this place and you knew for a fact that you were never going to see him again. Never. 

“Hey, you okay?” asks Joe as he watches you stare off into space. 

His face was worried as you look up to him. You shake your head and smile. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just… Really nauseous for some reason. Not sure if I can eat with you tonight, Joe. I’m really sorry.” 

Joe shakes his head and rushes up to you. 

“Hey, don’t apologize. You’re not looking very good. Maybe we should take you to see a doctor. Possibly a stomach bug?” 

You close your eyes and shake your head as nausea hits you once more. 

“I… I think I’m just gonna go lay down.” you whisper as you spin around and freeze. 

You lurch forward and cover your mouth fast. You dart towards the bathroom and make it just in time as you get sick. Joe’s behind you in an instant as he holds your hair away and slowly rubs your back. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just let it out.” he soothingly keeps telling you. 

You were so embarrassed that Joe had to see this. You finally finish as you lean away and flush it. Joe hands you a napkin to wipe your mouth. You’re frowning hard as he helps you to your feet and takes you to your bedroom. You slip under the covers as he leaves to make you some hot tea. As you’re laying there and waiting, your cell phone goes off. You debate whether or not to grab it, but you do. It was your best friend Lucy. 

“Sorry I missed your call!” she tells you. “I was out with Rami at the shops.” 

“That’s alright, Luc.” 

“You alright? You sound sort of bad. Are you ill?” she asks. 

“Yeah. I have this odd cramping feeling and the worst nausea ever. It’s horrible.” 

“Maybe you’re about to start your period. I just got over mine and I always cramp horribly.” 

Your period. You freeze as your hands become clammy. You haven’t been keeping track of it and don’t even remember the last time you truly had one. Lucy is still talking as you stare at the ceiling above you - your mind racing like crazy. 

“Y/n?” she asks, causing you to come back to reality. 

“Uh, oh, yeah. Um, hey, Luc? Can I call you back?” you ask fast. 

“Of course. You alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah, I just have to do something real fast. I’ll call you in a few.” 

And with that, you hang up. You sit up in bed and take in a deep breath as you slowly look back down to your belly. You stare at it with unsure eyes for what feels like forever. You’re overthinking all of this, you think to yourself. There’s a slight knock at your door as Joe walks in with a small cup of hot tea. He smiles, but it falls the moment he sees your face. It looks like you’ve just seen a ghost. 

“What’s wrong? Do you feel sick again?” he asks fast. 

You shake your head and continue to stare at him. 

“I need you to run me to the store.” you say quietly. 

Joe’s brows knit together as he lowers the tea in front of him. 

“I can go for you. What do you need? Ginger ale? Crackers?” 

You shake your head and swallow hard. 

“I need to get this myself.” 

***

“Are you sure you’re not ill?” 

You’re back in your bathroom with a pregnancy test in your shaking hands. You had already taken it and were waiting for the result to pop up. You then panic and set it on the sink counter, faced down. You were scared of the result. 

“No, I’m fine! Promise. Just, uh-” 

You decide to grab it once more and take a peek. You notice a word on the screen and close your eyes before fully looking at it. 

PREGNANT 

The word practically screamed out at you. Your stomach dropped as your breathing stops. You couldn’t stop staring at it. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. You keep repeating it in your mind over and over again. You were trembling as you walk to the bathroom door and slowly open it up. Joe’s still stood there as he looks at you with a worried look. 

“You alright?” he asks before peering down at the tiny test in your hand. “What’s that?” he asks. 

You can’t find your voice as you slowly hold the test up and reveal PREGNANT to him. It takes a second for it to click, but he now understands. He takes a step back with wide eyes. 

“Oh my god…” he whispers. 

Tears sting in your eyes as you finally look into his. 

“When was the last time you’ve spoken to Ben?” you whisper out. 

Joe shakes his head and tries to find his voice. 

“Um, this morning. He called asking about you again.” he murmurs. 

You take in a shaky breath and close your eyes. 

“I’m gonna be sick-” 

You turn around and hurry to the toilet. Joe once again holds your hair back and tells you everything will be okay. Everything will be okay. 

***

One Month Later 

“How is she? Does she still ask about me? I really want to come visit you all.” 

Joe is in the kitchen as he looks to you. You’re on the couch with a blanket as you watch TV. He had snuck away to make popcorn when Ben had called. 

“She’s uh,” Joe thinks for the right words to say. “She’s okay, Ben. I just don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” 

Ben sighs into the phone which breaks Joe’s heart. He knows you both are hurting and it’s tearing him apart. 

“Listen,” he starts. “Give her some time and I’m sure we can arrange something. Okay?” 

Ben’s mood was lifted by that. 

“Yeah? You think so?” 

Joe nods to himself just as you turn around and look at him. 

“Joe, I’m hungry! Where’s the popcorn?” you ask before realizing he’s on the phone. 

“Bringing it in just a second!” he calls out to you. 

“Was that her? God, I miss that voice.” says Ben. 

Joe turns around and holds the phone closer to his face. 

“Listen, I have to go. We’ll talk soon though, okay?” 

He says his quick goodbye to Ben and hangs up. He trots back to the couch with a bowl of popcorn, which you take instantly. Your slightly swollen belly was showing underneath your shirt and he smiled. 

“When are you going to tell him?” he asks, catching you off guard. 

You look over to him with a mouth full of popcorn and sad eyes. 

“That was him on the phone, wasn’t it?” you ask. 

All he can do is nod. You exhale and look down at your stomach. A slight movement of your baby makes you smile. You rub your hand over it. 

“I really don’t know.” you confess to him. “I’m scared to tell him, if I’m being honest. He’s so far away and the way we ended things, I just…” you trail off. 

“What he did was wrong. I will never not deny that. But the man’s so in love with you. Stella is actually more happy since the breakup than I’ve seen her in a long time. Ben can’t stop asking about you, it’s actually driving me nuts.” he teases, causing you to blush and laugh. “Just, when you’re ready, let me know. Okay?” 

You look to Joe and smile sweetly as you nod. You move yourself next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. You’re happy you at least have him in your life. 

***

4 Months And 3 Weeks Later 

“Where did you want the crib?” asks Joe. 

You’re both in your bedroom as he attempts to move it on the other side of the wall just where you want it. 

“Perfect! I know I’m a bit behind with everything, but I finally have my hospital bag all packed up with the babies going home outfit in there as well.” 

Joe appreciates his work as he looks to the white crib and smiles. 

“Better late than never.” he tells you as he spins around. 

You go to say something, but your baby kicks you hard and makes you hiss. Joe hurries to you and falls to his knees to face you. 

“You alright? Is it contractions? Should we go? I can call your mom!” 

You laugh loudly at his worried face and shake your head. 

“It’s not contractions, silly. She just apparently thinks it’s hilarious to kick mommy in the ribs.” 

Joe lets out a breath and smiles. 

“Here, feel,” you say as you grab his hand and place it on top of your swollen belly. His eyes go wide as she kicks at his hand and makes it move slightly. He’s felt this multiple times and yet he’s so shocked at every single one.

“Will you help me tie my shoes?” you randomly ask with puppy dog eyes. 

You two were going to go to the store for some groceries and for you to walk around as much as you can - doctors orders. Joe can’t help but laugh as he removes his hand and his attention is drawn to your feet. He ties one shoe when suddenly there’s a loud knock at the front door. You both look up and are half startled by it. 

“Expecting someone?” you ask as he stands up. 

“Thought maybe you were.” he tells you as he walks from your room and towards it. 

You’re sat there on the bed as you attempt to tie the other shoe, but it’s impossible. Joe turns on the porch light before opening the door. He has a slight smile on his face, but it instantly drops. 

“Ben?” he whispers. 

Ben is stood in front of him with a bouquet of flowers in one hand. He looks beyond nervous as he attempts to smile. 

“Hey, Joe.” 

“W- What are you doing here? How did you-” 

“Gwil gave me your address. I should’ve asked before showing up. I know! Just, she probably wouldn’t have let me. I have to see her, Joe.” he says sadly. 

“Joe!” you call out. 

You get off your bed and make your way to the living room as you stare down at your untied shoe. 

“Can you please tie the other one before I trip over myself-” 

You look up and over Joe’s shoulder as you spot a familiar face. He was staring at you with wide eyes. Your mouth fell open slightly as your heart begins to race. Joe was stood in a way where he was blocking the lower half of your body, only allowing Ben to see your head. He had waited for this moment for so long and it was finally here. 

“Ben?” you barely whisper out. 

“Y/n,” he whispers back. “I’m sorry for not calling, but I had to see you-” 

Just then, Joe takes a step back and reveals your giant swollen belly. Ben’s in mid sentence but stops once his eyes land on it. The hand that was holding the flowers had lowered as they slipped from it and hit the ground. His eyes were wide and he was trying to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. Your hands instantly go to your belly as if you’re trying to hide it. Ben looks back to you and then to your belly, then back to you, then back to your belly. 

“You’re-”

“Pregnant.” you finish his sentence. “Yes. I am.” 

“Is it-” 

“Yes. It’s yours. She’s… yours.” 

Ben looks back to you and shakes his head. 

“She?” 

You can’t help but smile as you sniffle and look down for a moment and nod. 

“It’s a girl.” 

“And I’m just finding out about this now, because?” he asks as he looks to Joe, feeling beyond hurt. 

“Because it was my idea. I was waiting for the right time.” 

“And that’s when? When you have it? When it’s ten years old and asks where I am? That’s when you’d tell me that I have a…” he trails off as a tear slips down his cheek.

“I was scared.” you sob out to him. “I was scared that you wouldn’t want her.” 

“Well that should have at least been my decision to make!” he says loudly.

“Maybe I was scared that you’d cheat on her with another daughter!” you shout back.

Ben tenses his jaw hard and looks down at his feet. He takes in a deep breath and looks back to you. You were staring at him with fire in your eyes and knives in your mouth. 

“I’m sorry.” is all he whispers. “I had met you and,” he continues as he takes a step forward. “And it had felt like I’d known you forever. What I did is unforgivable, y/n. I know that. But being with you felt like I could breathe again. Like I had something to look forward to when I got out of bed. It was nice to just feel wanted again.” 

This broke your heart. The sad puppy eyes he was giving you was enough to make you throw down your shield and run into his arms, but you can’t. You wouldn’t. You just continue to stand there as tears well up once more in your eyes. You look down for a moment and shrug. 

“You still did it.” you say quietly. 

The three of you just awkwardly stand there as silence hits. Ben then nods his head and sighs. 

“Well if you don’t want me… At least let me be there for her.” he pleads as he looks down to your stomach. “I know nothing about babies, but I know I’ll be a damn good dad. Please, y/n.” he begs. “I won’t let either of you down. Please.” 

You stare into his eyes and melt. You think for a moment longer until you slowly nod your head yes, which causes Ben’s face to light up as a huge smile appears. 

“Thank you.” he whispers. 

You can’t help but smile at his eagerness. 

“Come back tomorrow morning and we can go over everything. Maybe you can even meet me for my last doctor's appointment before I’m induced.” you tell him, causing him to become confused. 

“In-what?” he asks. 

“Induced.” you laugh. “Where they jump start labor if it doesn’t happen naturally. I’ll explain everything tomorrow.” 

Ben smiles and nods as he walks back outside. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” he says. 

You all say your goodbyes as Joe shuts the door and turns to stare at you with wide eyes. 

“What the hell just happened?” he asks completely in shock. 

“I’ll have to process all of this.” you say just as confused. “In the meantime… Can you take my shoes off now?” you ask with a forced smile, causing Joe to just laugh. 

***

“Well look at you all smiley this morning.” says Joe as he pours himself a cup of coffee. 

You realize that you’re grinning as you drop it fast, slightly embarrassed. 

“I’m not all smiley.” you say fast. 

Joe squints his eyes and watches you as he sips at the hot drink. 

“Mh-hmm. Then what do you it when your face does this,” he says as he dramatically does a huge toothy grin. 

You can’t help but laugh as you roll your eyes. 

“I guess… I don’t know. I was dreading about how I was going to tell Ben about this,” you say looking down at your belly. “I guess I’m kind of relieved that, in a way, I didn’t have to. Kind of like fate worked itself out, ya know?” 

“Ah, so that smile is because of Ben. Why am I not surprised?” he asks teasing you but suddenly goes serious. “It’s really good to see you smile again though. Everyone says you’re glowing, but right now, I can really see it.” 

You melt at Joe’s sweet words as you blush slightly and smile. 

“Thanks, Joe. That means a lot to me.” 

But before he can say anything back, there’s a soft knock at the front door. You jump slightly as your heart races, knowing that it’s Ben. Joe looks to you and presses his lips together as he walks over to it and opens. The two of them talked for a moment before Joe moves to the side and in walks Ben. He looks around at your home and then his eyes are glued to you. He grins as he walks forward and then down to your belly. 

“I was supposed to give these to you yesterday, but never got a chance.” he lightly teases. 

You take the beautiful flowers and look to him sweetly. 

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” 

Ben smiles and sticks his hands nervously into his pocket. You all stand there and say nothing for a moment until the baby kicks at you. You hiss and place your hand on your belly. Ben’s face goes worried as he watches you closely. 

“You okay?” he asks fast. 

You nod and half laugh at his protective nature. 

“She’s just really squirmy this morning. I think she’s happy that you’re here.” you say softly, causing his face to light up. “You wanna feel?” you cautiously ask him. 

Ben nods eagerly as you step forward close to him. You gently grab his hand and he suddenly goes serious. He remembers the last time he had touched you. That was the day you decided to leave. You bring his hand to your belly and place it down. You two wait for a moment until a big kick causes his eyes to go wide and for him to gasp slightly. 

“There she is.” you laugh out. 

“Wow.” is all he can whisper. 

“Would you like to go to my last doctor's appointment with me? It’s in an hour.” you ask as you look up with his hand still on your belly. 

Ben looks beyond thrilled as he can’t hold back a grin. 

“I would honestly love nothing more.” 

***

“You’re shaking.” you say as you watch Ben in the seat next to you. 

His leg is bouncing up and down as you lay back on a long bed like chair. Your belly is exposed as the doctor gets her ultrasound equipment all ready. 

“Guess I’m nervous.” he laughs out. “Never did this before.” 

“And the fact that it’s your baby you get to see.” sweetly says the doctor as she applies a warm, green gel to your stomach. “Ready?” 

You both nod your heads as she then lays the device down and begins moving it around. The screen lights up with black and white. It takes her only seconds to find your baby. 

“There she is.” she says as she presses a button to capture a photo. 

She moves the device around more until the babies little face is shown. 

“There’s her lips and nose,” she explains. 

You admire her tiny features and turn to look at Ben. He’s leaning in as his eyes are wide and his mouth dropped open slightly. He looks starstruck. 

“She has your nose.” he whispered in awe. 

“And your eyes.” you tell him as he looks to you. 

“Here are her hands,” says the doctor. 

Ben smiles as tears well up in his eyes. This was a lot for him to take in. Him crying had made you cry. You had wanted this moment for so long and now it was finally here. Ben was by your side. 

“She’s beautiful.” he whispers. “Gets that from her mum.” 

You all laugh as you playfully go to smack his arm, but after you do so, Ben grabs your hand before you can retreat it. He holds it in his as he looks to you. You know you should remove it, but you don’t. Instead you lace your fingers with his and keep it like that for the rest of the appointment. 

***

3 Days Later 

You were lying on the couch with your feet on Ben’s lap as he rubs them for you. You had a baby book in your face as you read out facts about childbirth. 

“Look at this.” you say as you turn the book for him to see. 

His face turns disgusted as his mouth falls open to a picture of a baby being born. 

“That’s not real!” he says loud. “That’s can’t be real!” 

You can’t help but burst out laughing at his reaction. 

“That’s definitely real! Get ready for that.” 

Joe walks into the living room and plops down on the opposite with a smile on his face. You both look to him and squint your eyes. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Oh nothing,” he says shrugging. 

“What is it Joe?” asks Ben, knowing he was going to say it anyways. 

“Nothing, just that you two look like real life parents right now. You’re rubbing her feet while she reads gross facts to you.”

You didn’t realize how this might look to someone else as you lay there with him, but you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Are you two… Ya know… Okay?” he asks cautiously. 

You sigh as Ben looks to you with questioning eyes as well. You remove your feet from his lap and sit the book beside you. As you do so, a sharp pain hits you hard, causing you to wince and lurch forward. Both boys call out as you take deep breaths. 

“Okay, that hurt.” you tell them. “I need to stand up.”

The go on either side of you as they help you to your feet. You take three steps when suddenly the sound of water hits the floor. You all pause and stare at one another. You slowly lower your head and look down to your feet as a clear, gel like substance surrounds you. 

“Guys,” you barely whisper out. 

Their faces were pale as they just stare and say nothing. You go to say something when another pin hits you, but this time it’s in your back. You lean over and yell out as Joe comes back to reality and rushes for the keys to the car. 

“Alright, it’s okay.” he says softly. “You’re in labor, we gotta go to the hospital now, okay?”

You shake your head no as you back away from them. They stare at you confused as tears gush from your eyes. 

“I’m not going! I can’t do this!” you cry out. 

“What do you mean you can’t do this? They’ll give you an epidural and the pain will go away-” starts Ben, trying to calm you down even though he’s freaking out just as bad. 

You shake your head even more and try to catch your breath. 

“I can’t give birth until we’ve figured us out!” you sob. 

They finally understand. Ben’s face saddens as Joe’s shoulders fall. 

“I can’t bring her into with the constant thought that you’ll leave and go home! Or leave for someone else and abandon us like my father did!” you yell. 

Ben shakes his head as he walks up to you and holds your face with both hands. 

“I am never leaving you. Either of you. I lost you once and I told myself I would never lose you again. Understand?” 

You stare into his green eyes and watch as they’re sincere and hold so much truth in them. He meant what he said. You feel your worries melt away as he just looked at you. You then nod your head and sniffle before Ben lowers his and gently presses his lips to yours. You’re taken aback for a moment, but melt into him - that is until another contraction hits you and you’re yelling once more. 

“Okay, more lovey dovey stuff after we get to the hospital! Ben, grab her hospital bag!” says Joe fast. 

“Let’s have a baby.” Ben says to you with a smile on his face. 

“Let’s have a baby.” 

***

Four hours into labor and you were in the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. You were in a hospital gown as you lean over the bed and shout out. Your face was bright red as you squeeze at the sheets. Ben and Joe were in the room as Joe kept the corner of the room with Ben at your side. 

“Baby,” says Ben quietly as he places his hand on your back. 

You jerk at his touch and groan loudly. 

“Don’t… Touch… Me!” you shout. “You did this to me!” 

Ben’s eyes are wide as he removes his hand and looks to Joe for any kind of help, but gets none as Joe just shakes his head fast with wide eyes. He wasn’t getting anywhere near you. It was like momzilla had broken free. He was content in the corner as he silently feels bad for you. But it wasn’t like this forever. You had dilated enough for an epidural which made the pain go away completely. You had calmed down and were now in bed as Ben sat next to you with your hand in his.

“Alright,” starts a doctor as she walks in with gloves on her hands and a hospital mask on her face. “Ready to start pushing?” 

You look to Ben with fear in your eyes as he takes in a deep breath and grins. This was it.

***

Baby cries fill the room as you do a final push. She was here. You were sobbing your eyes out when you finally see your tiny baby. You couldn’t stop smiling as you look to Ben and notice his chin quivering as his face was twisted with tears spilling over. Joe was wiping at his eyes as he takes pictures of the new happy parents. 

“You did so amazing. You did so amazing.” whispers Ben repeatedly as he kisses your head. 

You couldn’t stop crying as the nurses brought her over to you and place her on your chest. 

“Oh my god, look at her.” you cry out. “She looks just like you!” 

Ben brings his hand to her little head and gently touches her faint blonde hair. This was the most nerve wracking, heart racing, mixed feeling week he had ever had in his life and every single moment was worth it. 

***

“This is your new home, baby.” you coo as you hold her in your arms and slowly walk around your bedroom. 

Ben walks in with your hospital bag and sat it down as he admires his two girls with a smile on his face. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” he says softly as you turn around and smile. 

“Me neither.” 

You walk over to him and gently place the small baby in his arms. His shoulders are tensed up as if he’s scared he’s going to break her. 

“Relax your arms. You won’t hurt her.” you tell him with a giggle. 

He just smiles and nods as he follows your instructions. As he does so, she smiles slightly in her sleep which makes his eyes go wide and looks to you. 

“Did you see that!? She smiled!” he says fast. “I think she likes me.” 

You lightly laugh as you smile sweetly to him, your eyes never leaving his face. 

“Well that makes two of us.” 

Ben looks back up to you with a half serious face. His eyes crinkle as he grins and leans in slowly to kiss you. 

“Out of every adventure I’ve been on,” you start. 

“This is by far my favorite one.” 

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[indigosandviolets]

Zim-Zam, Goddamn, We’re Easy Company

Pairing : Joseph Liebgott x OC x George Luz

Summary : Andrew Marin knew that Airborne school would be hell, and he knew that he wouldn’t fit in, but there just happens to be two men there to make it a little more tolerable.

Word Count : 1990

Special thanks to @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz for the script of Currahee! I wouldn’t have been able to get this part on if it wasn’t for that script.

Part One if We Happy Few

Camp Toccoa

The sweat dripped down into Andrew’s eyes as he stood under the sun, in line with the rest of the men of Easy Company. He stood at attention as Lieutenant Sobel found anything he could on the men to get their Weekend Passes revoked. A Weekend Pass could mean anything to an enlistee, and Sobel was intent on ripping it away to “teach them a thing or two”. Like it earned Sobel the respect of his men. Andrew wouldn’t be the first to tell you that this tactic didn’t work.

It came to be Andrew’s turn for berating, and he was not excited.

“Name.”

“Andrew Marin, sir.”

“Private Marin.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why are your boots covered in mud?”

“No excuse, sir.”

“Are you not ordered to keep everything clean?”

Andrew’s boots weren’t the only thing keeping him from godliness, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell Sobel that. “I was, sir.”

“So why aren’t they clean, Private?”

“No excuse, sir.”

“You disobeyed direct orders, Private. I’d ought to write you up. Weekend Pass revoked.”

Sobel moved onto the next soldier and Andrew let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Andrew wasn’t too upset about losing his Weekend Pass. He didn’t have anywhere he wanted to go. His friends had already had theirs revoked, and those who hadn’t would inevitably lose them before the hour was out.

Some of the infractions the men had on them were absolutely ridiculous. They were singled out for having something that wasn’t contraband or because they grabbed the wrong canteen or something that wasn’t up to Sobel’s personal standards. If Sobel didn’t like it, you clearly weren’t fit to be a soldier.

“Name.”

“Liebgott, Joseph D., sir.”

Sobel reaches for Liebgott’s bayonet and examines it. “Rusty bayonet, Liebgott. You wanna kill Germans?”

Sobel knew that answer. Everyone wanted to kill the Germans. “Yes, sir.”

Sobel hits Liebgott over the head with his bayonet. “Not with this.”

Instead of returning the bayonet to Liebgott, Sobel held it up over his head to show the company. “I wouldn’t take this rusty piece of shit to war, and I will not take you to war I your condition. Now thanks to these men and their infractions, every man in the company who had a weekend pass has lost it. Change into your PT gear, we’re running Currahee.”

Currahee. Fucking Curahee. If there was ever a way to make a Company hate their CO, it was Currahee. Run up the three miles, run back down in the allotted time. You go over, you do it again, and again, and again until Sobel decides you’ve either had enough or he’s too disappointed in you to go on.

Andrew had to run Currahee twice in one night. He had tripped on the way up and screwed up his time, so Sobel had him run double. Worst night of Airborne School so far. His chest hurt like hell for days after that night, but he never let it show. He couldn’t. Not now.

“Marin!” a voice shouted from behind Andrew. He turned to see George Luz, a good friend and one of the best parts of Easy Company.

“Hey, Luz,” Andrew says with a grin and he pulls his shirt over his chest.

“Still have to wear that posture stuff?”

“Yeah.” Posture stuff. What an excellent lie.

Luz looked down at Andrew’s boots. “Muddy boots make a muddy soldier, Marin!” He said in the most Sobel-like voice he could manage. Luz was always a fan of impressions. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

“Tell that to the dirt on your M-1.”

The walk to Currahee was a humiliating one. The men of the other companies would almost taunt Easy as they walked up to the mountain. Andrew happened to be by Liebgott on this occasion.

“Oh, Easy Company. ‘Ey while you’re runnin’, don’t worry, we’ll take your dames to the movies for ya.”

Dog Company. Classic.

“Yeah, good, they need some female company,” Liebgott says. Andrew laughs at it.

“Pretty sure there’s only two of us that have really got any women,” Andrew tells Liebgott.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t doubt it.”

Sobel was unrelenting on Currahee. When Muck tripped Sobel shouted for him to not be helped. Of course, Malarkey and Gordon helped anyway, because that’s what you do when you’re at the very least a decent human being.

Andrew suspects he got up the mountain in 20 minutes. His lungs burned and the sweat in his eyes stung to high heaven but he kept going. He had to.

~

The hour upon Currahee became days on that godforsaken mountain. Those days became weeks. Soon enough, Andrew found himself in the mess hall across from Luz with a plate of spaghetti in front of him. Well, what looked like spaghetti.

“What do ya think, Luz?” Andrew asks. “Fine Italian cooking if I’ve ever seen it.”

Luz put on a big grin. “Perfecto!” He says in a silly Italian accent. “

“Not too loud!” Andrew laughs at him. “You don’t want Guanere to kill you.”

Before Luz can reply, Sobel’s familiar whistle blows and the man himself marches up into the mess hall.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Andrew hears Liebgott mutter. It’s almost funny. Almost.

“All lectures are canceled! Easy Company is running up Currahee! Move! Move! Move!”

Andrew almost threw up. He really didn’t think he would make it to the top of that mountain without hunching over and vomiting himself inside out.

It was worse when Sobel started yelling, right in his face.

“Marin, your chest hurt? You look pale, Private! You’re gonna be sick! Sick men do not make Paratroopers! Get your ass off this mountain and go home!”

It was almost an incentive to get up the mountain. To do it out of spite. To show Sobel that Andrew really did have it, to show that unlike Sobel, he wasn’t scared. He had seen fear in Sobel’s eyes once, a fear that his men would be better than him, Andrew knew that. He just had to show that they all were.

Then, from beside him, Luz pipes up. “We pull upon the risers…”

Just like that, the men of Easy Company began their chant.

“We fall upon the grass,

We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass,

Highty tighty, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we?

Zim-Zam goddamn we’re the Airborne Infantry!

We pull upon the risers,

We fall upon the grass,

We never end upon our feet, we always hit our ass

Highty tighty, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we?

Zim-Zam goddamn we’re the Airborne Infantry!”

~

The showers that night were surprisingly empty for Andrew. He stripped down for the first time in what felt like forever. Without the “posture stuff”, as Luz had so affectionately called it, it was like Andrew could breathe again. His muscles ached as he slipped under the hot water, relaxing as he felt he could be totally alone.

The soap going over his body was a treat for Andrew, getting the caked dirt off his hands and the strange spaghetti sauce that someone had coughed up off of his back and the dried salt from his sweat off of his arms was a blessing.

Spaghetti. Andrew wondered if he could ever eat it again without wanting to vomit. He wondered if he could eat any food from the mess hall without thinking about that goddamned mess of spaghetti.

A few minutes under the spray of water was enough for Andrew to lose himself in the moment, to actually think about himself for once. He hadn’t written a letter to his parents except for the first week he was there, informing them of where he was and what he’d be doing. They weren’t too keen on the idea of him being in the military, jumping out of planes no less, but Andrew didn’t let that stop him. He’d gotten one letter from his brother, Albert, out in Chicago. It wasn’t all good news, as it was mainly about what was going on with him and his wife. The general outlook wasn’t great. His wife had cheated on him and he only found out when their daughter didn’t look like him at all. It was funny, but this was his Al, who was always insecure about everything, so it wasn’t supposed to be funny.

Al found out because him and his wife are very dark-haired. The baby was a ginger.

Andrew thought about how his plan didn’t really line up with his brother’s. Al was a real stand-up guy, who always knew what to say and what he wanted to do. Despite his insecurities, he fit in, he blended with the crowd. He moved out to Chicago, started a business, married a girl and got everything he wanted until very recently.

Andrew stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone seemed to know there was something off about him back home. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. He didn’t think he would make it that far. All he knew is that he didn’t want to be stuck with his parents forever. So, when the war started, he knew what he needed to do. It’s good pay, it’s respectable, he’s fighting for something he believes in. It’s good and he somehow manages to fit in with the guys, something he’s never been able to do.

Andrew gets out of the shower before anyone would’ve even realized he was there. He slipped his clothes back on, tied up his boots, but stopped in front of the mirror as he passed it. He almost couldn’t recognize himself. He’s not really sure if he wanted to.

His hair had become lighter from the sun and the freckles on his face began to become more prominent. He was still scrawny but he didn’t look like the wind could push him over anymore. His hands were now scuffed and his fingers became calloused, like the rest of the men’s. He hadn’t realized how hardened he had become. He supposed that all the men have become like this. Some of them were already hard, like Guanere and Martin. Others had hardened, like Winters. But there were some who Andrew couldn’t picture like that.

Like Luz. Luz wasn’t soft. Luz wasn’t hard. He was silly. He did impressions. He didn’t let Sobel get under his skin. He made fun of the Lieutenant. He was determined to get past Sobel and do what he wanted. He made jokes with Andrew.

Or Liebgott. Liebgott was more sarcastic but he had a perfect sense of humor. He was hard, but he had a real sense of humanity. He was always genuine, but always sassy. Liebgott, like Andrew, kind of stuck out. With his being Jewish and Andrew being Andrew, it made sense that two of them were good friends.

Luz and Liebgott. Liebgott and Luz. Andrew chuckled to himself. The two men he couldn’t really define in Easy Company and they both had ‘L’ names. Andrew stopped where he was. Luz and Liebgott. Thinking of the two made Andrew feel different. It wasn’t like that fun feeling around Muck and Penkala or that brotherly feeling around Bull and Martin. It was different. Safe. Comforting. It was nice.

Andrew knew it wouldn’t be good for him, but at least it was nice.

The barracks were quiet that night. All of the men were sore and didn’t want to deal with more than they had to. When Andrew had gotten back, Luz was fast asleep and most of the men were going in the same direction. Andrew found himself in his bed before long, a book in one hand and the other tucked up under his head. He wasn’t sure what time he fell asleep that night, but he knows that he didn’t get very far into chapter three.

~

tag list: @alienoresimagines

if you’d like to be added, let me know!

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 25 (Orange)

Summary: Well... when Bo fucks up, she really fucks up, Luckily, CVS is open 24/7. Even luckier, Alistair’s coming with her. How hard could it be to get some damn pink hair dye anyway?

---

There was nothing like the Normandy needing some repair work done that made him appreciate down time.

“You like that, Saren? I got it from your favorite place as a little surprise while I was out getting supplies for everyone.”

The small, round ball of fur continued to shove his food into his bulging cheeks. He was going a little faster than usual of course – that's what happened when he got his favorite snacks – but soon it would all be stored away for later. Until then, he would continue to look absolutely adorable as he sat in his enclosure.

Alistair had picked up more food and bedding for the hamster while he was out, along with a few chew toys and a new hide. Maybe he was spoiling Saren, but... well, why not? Space hamsters may have lived longer than their Earth counterparts, but they still maxed out at 10. They hadn't been sure how old   he was, so... why not make every day count?

Besides, he had pissed on Miranda. That made him a hero.

“It was really busy at the shop when I popped in today. I guess word got out that I go there.” He chuckled as he watched his hamster finish stuffing himself silly. “All full? You look like a little beach ball, Sar.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore he saw Saren's cheeks puff out in indignation.  At any rate, he was soon tunneling into his bedding, to wherever he was storing his food in this cage layout. Alistair would find the remains eventually when he cleaned. It was kind of like one of the weirdest treasure hunts he had ever taken part in...

“Well, bye I guess.”

He shrugged his shoulders and started to return to his desk. However. A beeping from his omni-tool drew the Spectre's attention. There was a message there from Bo – fucked my omni-tool again, might have water damage. Fix?

Oh great... water damage.

“She's lucky I got some extra parts when I went shopping.” Alistair shook his head as he grabbed his tool box and jacket. “Saren, watch the room while I'm gone. If you see anyone from Cerberus sneaking around, you know what to do.”

That was of course look cute to entice them in, then bite the shit out of them. It was a good plan, and Saren executed it like a pro. That's why he always felt a little better when he left to go on missions. How could he not when he had his own personal attack hamster?

Bo hadn't said where she was, but he knew her enough that he stopped by the crew floor to find the XO office. The door was open, so he nudged it open and stepped through. There was water running – was she showering?

Well, good to know she trusted him.

“It's on the desk!” Her voice called out over the water. “Did Saren like the snacks you got?”

Alistair settled into his CO's desk in order to fix her very water-logged omni-tool. He cocked his eyebrow as he examined it further. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but parts of the band looked to be faded to almost white. A smell test confirmed it as he shook his head. Luckily, he had a replacement band in her size.

“Yeah. Did you forget to take this off when you were bleaching your roots though?”

Bo shut the water off – must've been done rinsing. “Some of it dripped while I was working.”

Of course it did. Alistair resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he pulled the stained band off. After that, it was simple diagnostic and replacement. Apart from the soldering of some replacement bits around the screen, he could've done it in his sleep. Luckily, he was awake so that made it go much faster.

He hummed to himself as he worked. “No big deal, I figured you'd need a new one eventually so I picked one up.”

“Gotta love a well-stocked tech.” Bo sounded like she was shifting around. Then she stopped moving. “Aw fuck...”

Alistair cocked his eyebrow as he put the omni-tool down briefly. “Everything alright in there?”

His XO didn't answer. From the sounds of things, she was getting dressed. At least he knew she hadn't fallen or anything, but her silence was a little concerning. However, going into the bathroom was a bad idea, so he was left waiting on the other side.

“Bo?”

Two red eyes were soon on him. “We're going to have to go back to CVS.”

At first, he started to open his mouth to ask why. That question was answered for him as Bo came into view,  adjusting her shirt as she walked. She had indeed finished bleaching her roots and touching up the color but...

Well, that wasn't pink. In fact, it was pretty damn fucking orange.

She shot him a look that definitely could've killed. “Well, get it over with.”

Alistair returned the omni-tool to his toolbox for later and started patching up details for returning to the dock. “Well... let's be honest, ginger's better on me than you. You can fix that at least, right?”

After all, there was only one redheaded Shepard on the Normandy, and he was under 6 feet tall. Besides, pink really was more her color anyway. He may have been an utter failure when it came to fashion, but at least he sometimes knew basic color theory.

Sometimes, anyway... he still didn't see why he couldn't wear neon blue sneakers with green laces.

“Yeah, just go already.” her hood was already up over the nightmare. “Before anyone really starts making Shepard siblings jokes.”

Perish the thought...

---

“Have I mentioned how much I hate C-SEC?”

“Many, many times.”

Alistair could feel a dull headache throbbing at the base of his implant as he and Bo finally cleared security. For some reason, flying in on the fucking Normandy always attracted some measure of attention. He wouldn't have minded, but they were kind of on a tight schedule.

Bo still had her hood up as they walked. “I swear I checked that damn box before I bought it, how the fuck did this happen?”

“You're asking the wrong guy, maybe the manufacturer mixed up the packages or something.” He shrugged. “I'll check it out later once we get back.”

Hell, maybe a low blood sugar had caused it. Bo might not have been as sensitive to biotic-induced hypoglycemia as he was, but there were times she still got it. For all he knew, this could have been a hypo fuck up. Of course, he'd never suggest that – that was just insult to injury.

What could he say, he was a paragon of virtue like that. Though, maybe he should consider adding a CGM to her omni-tool when he got back...

At least the CVS didn't look too busy from the outside. The parking lot looked pretty empty, but that was probably due to the time. Even the Citadel had slow periods between shifts after all – people had to sleep and eat sometime. It was just a stroke of luck they hit it when they did.

What wasn't so lucky was the guy Bo all but body checked as she entered the store.

Alistair opened his mouth to apologize, but he didn't get the chance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone coming. His reflexes kicked in, and soon a glowing blue barrier was erected around whatever was moving towards him. A shot ricocheted, and then they were down on the ground with a hole in their leg.

Huh. Now why would two guys in dark masks with guns be in a CVS? And why did the few people in there look like they had just seen a ghost?

“Oh, thank God. I thought - “ The clerk paused, realizing who was standing over her would-be robbers as if they did this every day – which, to be fair, they kind of did. It was just usually in armor. “Wait... are you Commander Shepard?”

Alistair was already checking vitals through the barrier. “Yeah. Bo, go get your stuff. I'll handle these two until C-SEC shows up.”

Their gear and weapons were honestly nothing special, and their plan seemed laughable at best. It was just their luck they had run into amateur hour at thievery school. Well, no doubt they had both earned scholarships to clown college for their boneheaded stunts.

At least the bullet wound didn't look like it had broken anything vital. He'd be able to stand trial for sure at this rate.

“Fuck...” Yeah, his sentiments exactly. “How'd you find us?”

Bo appeared from the aisle, carrying the correct box under her arm. With her hood still up, she slid it over the counter. “We walked in. Can I buy this now, or does C-SEC need to count the total?”

“Oh, they didn't get the chance to take anything! You two showed up just as soon as they drew their guns!” There were stars in the clerk's eyes as she ran Bo up. “I don't know how to thank you, I thought I was going to get shot!”

Alistair's medigel applicator dinged as it dispensed the appropriate dose for the would-be robber still trapped in his barrier. It would hold until he got proper medical attention with C-SEC. With that done, he checked on the other genius. He was still on the floor, groaning.

No surprises there – it was hard to take a full body check from Bo ��The Pink Monster” Shepard and  make it out without anything broken. Definitely had at least some kind of concussion if the unfocused vision was anything to go by.

Well, at least he didn't crack his skull. Those were messy.

“I doubt they would've hit, their aim was terrible.” Bo accepted her bag just as the C-SEC sirens announced their arrival. “Well, took them long enough.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Al, mind handling them? I'm gonna get back to the Normandy.”

Normally, this was the part where a commanding officer would have totally pulled rank and made his XO stay. After all, he hated dealing with C-SEC as much as anyone did. However, unlike most CO's, he wasn't a total asshole. That he saved for people who deserved it.

“Yeah, hurry up before they realize it's you.”

Bo actually passed two C-SEC officers on her way out, hood pulled low. Alistair shook his head as he straightened up. His hands still felt sticky from the medigel, but there wasn't much he could do about that at the moment.

At least there were no news cameras.

“Stop right-” A turian with purple tattoos lowered her gun. “Commander Shepard?”

He responded with an awkward wave that highlighted the sticky residue from the medigel. At least nobody could blame him for the gunshot – for once he wasn't armed, even though his Spectre status gave him that permission. Who needed to bring a gun into CVS anyway, except idiots like the ones on the floor? “Wrong place, right time. These two need medical attention, but I think they'll be ok. Their pride, not so much, but I can't fix that.”

That dull headache promised to get worse with the incredulous looks he was getting from the officers. Alistair could only hope that the store's cameras were working, otherwise they were going to have to interview him. And oh, he hated going down to the C-SEC offices more than pretty much everything except the Illusive Man, low blood sugar, and the sound of his own voice.

Bo better thank him for this one later... hopefully when her hair was back to pink. Again, orange really was more of his color. Chalk it up to the Irish genes and all.

“So... guess you want to have a chat then?”

Why did he even ask... fuck. He should've stayed in his room with Saren.

[swiftlythebest]

Hi! I'm sorry you're feeling ill! I wish I could bring you meds or soup or flat ginger ale. 💖 If you're up to it, can you Nico/Levi drabble me this: ‘You’re really short and cute and you buy a cup of black coffee every morning but you make weird faces as you sip it and you never finish your drink are you trying to look mature or something’?

It’s okay, I’ll be fine. It just sucks right now. But this is such a cute idea! I love a coffee shop AU and these two boiz being dumb. I wrote it pretty quickly so it’s probably full of mistakes and not too great, but I think it’s still cute. I hope you enjoy!

“Nico, your favorite customer’s here.” At these words, Nico Kim looked up from the book he was reading during his break and caught sight of a gorgeous man entering the coffee shop. Nico was a part-time barista as he put himself through medical school, and this man was his favorite part of the job. He watched him look around, evidently trying to be subtle, before spotting Nico and hurriedly looking away. Smiling to himself, Nico made his way behind the counter and took up the helm of the cash register.

“Hello! Welcome to The Daily Grind. What can I get you today?” Nico had to ask, but he already knew. He would order a small cup of black coffee for Levi. He’d pay with a five dollar bill and drop his change in the tip jar. There was a routine to this man’s visit.

“Um, one small, black coffee please? For Levi.” Sure enough, he held out a five before Nico could even give him the total.

Levi settled into a seat by the counter, the morning rush having died down, making the shop much less hectic than it had been only ten minutes before. Nico filled his cup quickly, wanting desperately to interact with him again.

He was a college student at the same university Nico went to for med school. Maybe a sophomore? He couldn’t be older than 20. He’d started coming to the shop at the beginning of the semester, always ordering the same thing and always making Nico’s heart skip a beat with his doe-eyes and incredible smile.

“Coffee for Levi?” Nico held out the drink to him, making sure their fingers brushed slightly in the exchange, delighting at the barely audible gasp the touch elicited.

“Thanks.” Levi blushed and hurried back to his seat. He placed the coffee on the table, stared at it and took a deep breath, before lifting the cup to his mouth and taking an almost imperceptible sip. He winced, but kept at it for a while. Nico watched, amused, thoroughly confused and endeared by this part of the routine.

Finally, Levi seemed to have had enough, as he stood and tossed what appeared to be a half full cup of coffee in the trash. As he made his way to the door, Nico called out to him. He turned, startled, and met Nico’s eyes. Nico beckoned him over.

“Okay, you confuse me. You’re really short and cute and you buy a cup of black coffee every morning, but you make weird faces as you sip it and you never finish your drink. Are you trying to look mature or something?” Nico had been dying to ask this question for months.

Levi sputtered. “I… what?”

“Why do you order something you hate?” Nico cocked his head to one side, considering this beautiful and strange man.

“Um. Well. I just. You. You’re in the med school, right?” Nico was not expecting this, but he nodded anyway. “Right, so you must be like 23? 24?”

“24,” Nico affirmed.

“Cool. Well, I’m already at a disadvantage because I’m only 20. And then if I come in and order some sugary, frothy, colorful monstrosity, you’d definitely only see me as some dumb kid. So… I went with the most mature drink there is.” Levi swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing and a blush reddening on his cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Nico was now even more confused.

“I was going to get some crazy frappuccino thing, but then I walked in that first day and saw you and couldn’t imagine asking you for an extra pump of raspberry syrup in my cotton candy frappuccino. And when I ordered the black coffee, you looked… impressed? So I figured I’d get used to it,” He shrugged.

“Black coffee is gross,” Nico laughed.

Levi gave a relieved sigh. “It’s awful! Who drinks that? Why? What’s wrong with a little bit of fun in a drink?”

“Cotton candy frappes are great. Have you tried the smores one? It’s not as good, but I really like it.” Nico watched as a wide smile blossomed over Levi’s face, seeming to light up the whole shop.

“Uh, no, I haven’t had that one yet. I only drink black coffee, because I’m really mature and sophisticated.” They shared a laugh at that, Nico relishing in ease of the conversation.

“How about you let me take you out? We can go to dinner or bowling or something and then end the night sharing some awful, sugary drinks.” Nico was nervous, not expecting his morning to go this way, but thanking whatever entities were out there that it had.

Levi nodded rapidly, that beautiful smile growing impossibly bigger. “Yes. Yeah. Definitely. I… here’s my number.”

Hours later, Nico left the coffee shop with a new spring in his step, a new number in his phone, and a date with an endearingly silly and handsome man. Who knew a small cup of black coffee could be such a matchmaker?

[rwbyremnants]

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drug/alcohol use. Truth or dare, Monochrome(Weiss/Blake) kiss, grinding with boners, fainting.

=Chapter 39

"So the pizza and Chinese should both be here in about twenty minutes," Ruby sighed, getting off the phone. "And I told the Chinese guy I'd come out to the car to get it, okay? Is that better?"

"Alright alright, I'll hide out in here in that time. Hey, either of you guys want a drink? Might as well burn through my soda since there’s no way in hell I’m lugging it back to Tennessee."

They'd finally come to a compromise after so long arguing. Ruby and Penny would get their chicken and rice, Yang and the others would get their pizza. Half extra-cheese and bacon for Yang, and ham-and-pineapple for Weiss, along with alfredo sauce and spinach. And then a seafood topped pizza for Blake and Sun to share. Yang had pretty much memorised their pizza orders after this long.

"Oh, do we have Kool-Aid?!" Then Ruby heard herself and winced. "That's… not what grown-ups drink. Right. Um, is there ginger ale, maybe?"

"Dude I can always ask if Blake has some, you can be as much of a kid you want with me!" Already wandering into the kitchen to check the various cupboards for her sodas and other snacks. The things she knew Blake wouldn't want to keep anyway.

Having made herself comfortable on the sofa, Penny simply twiddled her thumbs as she waited for everyone to come downstairs, somewhat nervous of her surroundings still. These were all her girlfriend's friends, after all. "What game did you say we're playing later? Spin the bottle?"

"Yeah," Ruby replied with a nervous little chuckle. "I… well, I've never played it before, but Yang told me that you and me get a 'pass' if we come to a dare that's too far for us, because of… you know." Her voice dipped lower. "Because you're ace, and I'm, um, jumpy."

"Oh gosh, I wonder what they'd have us do if we didn’t pass," Penny wondered, although she budged over on the sofa to let her sit next to her, right away leaning against her once she did. "I'm sorry if I do pass a lot, Ruby… You know how I am with that stuff, heh."

"Doesn't matter to me," Ruby told her warmly, snuggling up to her side and leaning her head on the girl's shoulder. "You're all I need, just the way you are. Well… you and my right hand," she added in a joking tone.

"What's that about a hand?" Blake asked as she began walking down the stairs.

"AAAHH!!" Ruby yelped, moving away from Penny in a flash; not far, only sitting up straight and putting a couple of inches between them. Her glasses ended up slightly crooked on her face. "Nothing! I, um… nevermind!"

"Hey Blake! Do you have some Kool-Aid for the little flower? Only managed to find some soda for Penny and me, and I dunno if Weiss wants any booze or anything." Yang called out from the kitchen, though she had begun to head back into the living room with the others again. However, she right away noticed Blake's eyes. "Holy shit, you really did Blake-and-bake up there… I thought you'da done something else with Weiss going up with you."

"She BLAKED!" Weiss laughed, nearly stumbling on her way down as she clung to the railing like her life depended on it. Which, in all honesty, it sort of did. "That's great, because it's her name!"

All Blake could do was laugh self-consciously. "Well… I didn't figure out until we were about to do it that she was a newbie."

"You got Weiss high?!" Yang instantly looked toward her girlfriend, who was stumbling all over the place happily. One look of her eyes told her everything.

“WHAT?!” Ruby squeaked – betraying how shocked she was, even if afterward she tried to act like she hadn’t said anything.

Sun's inane laughter preceded him, as he too was stumbling down the stairs. "Fuck yes, we did! Man, she was toking like a champ. It was pretty hilarious watching her take the first hit, though."

"You hear that?" Weiss giggled, walking right up to Yang and looking up into her face. Her blue eyes looked darker with her pupils so dilated. "I'm a CHAMP."

"Ooof course you are." Yang patted her head slightly patronisingly, starting to guide her further into the room with the others. "Oh, pizza's gonna be here in fifteen, I got you the ham and pineapple with all your other… stuff."

"Oh, I hope you got me and Blake some, too. I could eat just about anything…" Sun had already wandered into the kitchen, and could be clearly heard rummaging through the cupboards himself.

"Look who's got the munchies," Blake laughed as she helped Yang plop Weiss down on the sofa, on Ruby's other side. The younger girl still looked a little nervous now that she figured out that Weiss had been smoking something technically only quasi-legal in some states, but it was as likely to be about sitting next to her idol as that, in all honesty.

"Hey, Rubble Bubble," Weiss said to Ruby, weaving from side to side very slightly. "How are you and Penny Pen-Pen?"

"I… we, um…" She turned to her girlfriend, scratching the back of her head. "How are we, Penny?"

"We are… going to be in… so so much trouble if my dads find out I've been in the same house as weed," Penny replied with wide eyes as she stared toward Weiss, amazed at how affectionate she seemed to become as she cuddled Ruby rather closely. Maybe a distraction would help. "Uuuuh, Blake? Could we start playing that game now? Before things get too…touchy-feely?"

"They're not too touchy-feely," Weiss said with a pout as she smashed her cheek up against Ruby's neck, causing the poor girl to blush heavily. "This is my friend! My bee-eff-eff! It's effed up not to cuddle!" Then she laughed, eyes flicking over to Yang. "Did you notice what I did there? With the letters?"

"Oh, I sure did." Yang almost had to humour her while she was in this state, nodding slowly with a half-serious smile. She was simply thankful there would be food soon arriving to distract the stoned crowd from getting too handsy with the more innocent of tonight's company.

But that wasn't to be helped when Sun arrived back in the room with a few bags of chips, and an empty beer bottle to boot. Seems the game really was going to start early, especially when he put it down in the middle of them. "So, ladies and… myself; what say you to a game, of unimaginable… things.…" Then he got quieter. "I have no idea where I was going with that…"

"Somewhere stupid," Blake sighed, facepalming. But she was smiling behind her hand. Then she lowered it and said, "Alright, Yang, you're the soberest one who's played before. Care to tell them the rules?"

"Caaaaan do!" Much to Blake and Sun's relief, Yang was in chipper spirits already. And she hadn't even had a drop to drink, or anything else! She was back to the Yang that Blake had always known. Or more, the Yang that Blake met in that brief time on tour. Shuffling closer to the group, she lowered her hand to the coffee table, ready to spin. "Rules are simple: whoever spun is the one that asks the question, or gives the dare. And whoever the bottle lands on, chooses if they want to tell the truth to a question, or complete a dare. Spin and get yourself, spin again." Sending it spinning rather harshly, she continued as it turned and turned. "You can pass, but the forfeit means you eat the most disgusting thing you have ever ever seen: anchovies!"

And then gradually it stopped, and she looked up toward the first victim. "So, Blake Belladonna; truth or dare?"

"Hmm…" Glancing between all of them, the hostess wondered if she would be up to any truth at all in front of so many. So she decided to take it easy on herself the first time and said, "Dare."

"Alright…" Putting her hand to her chin, the uncasted one, she thought to herself. What could she get away with daring the host to do? Seeing as she was high, the possibilities were endless. She snapped her fingers when she thought of the perfect dare. One that could even bury the hatchet between the two of them. "I dare you and Weiss to make out."

"WHAT?!" Blake yelped, eyes flying wide. "Dude, that's- I mean, she's your girlfriend! You're really asking me to-"

"Oh, it's fine," Weiss was laughing as she waved a hand around. "I mean, it's not like you two haven't kissed each other, and I've kissed Yang… pretending you and I haven't indirectly kissed is just silly." Then she seemed to hear herself and straightened up slightly. "Wait… I mean, that actually is kind of weird, isn't it? Wow…"

Eyes still wide, Blake turned to Sun. "Are you okay with this? I mean… I know it's how the game goes, but…"

"Hey, I'm not trying to sound like a creep here but, you're asking a guy if he is okay with watching his girlfriend make out with another girl. That's like asking if Weiss is okay with singing." Sun was clearly higher than he first planned. But when all he received was confused looks all around, he tried to laugh it off. "That's a ‘yes’, by the way. Totally fine with it."

"Then it's settled by the guy thinking with his dick, as per the norm," Yang joked, hit soon turned back. "Or are you gonna eat the fish?"

Something they didn't expect was for Blake to put her hands on either side of Weiss's legs, lean up and nuzzle her face right next to Weiss's ear. The pop star visibly shivered, and Ruby let out a little gasp of pure shock at the show and the mass of black hair suddenly right next to her… but it wasn't quite what the others thought.

"Listen… I know we're both pretty stoned here, but um… I can eat the anchovy. I actually don't mind how they taste, so if you don't want to make out, that's no big d-"

"No, I'm fine," Weiss said in a normal voice, then flinched when she felt Blake flinch from her talking so close to her ear. Dipping into a whisper now, she continued, "I m-mean… half the reason I tried doing weed was to see what Yang experienced while she was gone. Since she also kissed you, it’s kind of the same thing. I mean, that probably sounds really weird, doesn't it?"

It did, but Blake had no way to state that it did without sounding like she was judging Weiss's request. Which didn't make any sense, given she had essentially swooped in to get some free nookie while Yang was at her lowest point in life.

As Ruby let out a tiny squeal, she pulled back and took Weiss's pink little mouth with her own, lips kneading at the soft skin. Despite her insistence that she was fine with everything, Weiss visibly drew back, leaning into the rear of the couch… but Blake's body followed, crawling up into her lap and straddling it as she cupped Weiss's face, heart thudding in her throat.

"Mhhhh!" Weiss let out in a panicked voice, but quickly thereafter, it softened into an, "Mmm…" And the woman shivered, letting her own fingers press into Blake's back to help keep her from pitching backward. Her mouth fell open, and Blake wasted no time completing the ritual that moved things from "kissing" to "making out", as Yang had dared them; pressing her tongue against another tongue, exploring the inside of her mouth.

And all the while, all Blake could think was, 'I'm actually doing this. I'm making out with a celebrity - I'm making out with my ex-girlfriend-slash-ex-fuckbuddy's girlfriend, who is an internationally-known musician! What the hell is my life?!'

Being close to the events as well, Penny looked with wide eyes to what was happening, and couldn't help but grip the sofa a little tighter in fear. They'd never ask her or Ruby to do such a thing with anyone else, would they? Not likely. This was only because the two of them were high. She assumed she was safe. But Sun and Yang were loving it, both clapping wildly and cheering on their girlfriends with a clap and even a wolf whistle, right up until the very end of their kiss.

"Alright alright, girls. Save some for us later!" Yang laughed.

Of course, being that Weiss was not as accustomed to the effects of the chemicals tingling within her skull, she was the one to grunt against Blake's chin, "Holy shit, you are really good at that!"

"N-nah, you're the one who's been practicing," Blake laughed shakily, petting her neck for just a second as a way to wind down slowly. Then she extracted herself from atop Weiss and plunked down on the floor again. "Whoo… okay, my spin now, right?"

"Yep! Now to find out who your next victim is." Yang slightly rolled the bottle in her direction so it would be easier for her, eagerly awaiting to see who that would be. And if that was the first dare, she knew they would all be in for a pretty intense game tonight.

Sure enough, Blake didn't even quite touch the bottle before she was pressing the hand to her face instead, muttering under her breath, "I can't believe I just kissed Weiss of all the people on the planet…"

"Why, is my breath that bad?" Weiss laughed, allowing one leg to flop over her arm of the couch. This was a completely undignified pose that none of them had ever seen from her, either on TV or in person.

"Oh… just… nevermind." Then she spun the bottle, which whizzed around a few times until it landed on… herself. "Whoops," she giggled, spinning it again. This time, it came to rest pointing at her boyfriend.

"Awwwh, dangit!"

"Oooohhh, Monkey Boy's turn!" Yang laughed. But when that nickname brought only confused looks from everyone but Blake, she explained; "Last time we made him handstand for like a minute, and he did it with no problem. Like a monkey. Kinda scary, really."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Sun glared in her direction. "Just because I look after myself and do lots of work at the gym doesn’t mean I can peel bananas with my feet." And then straight back to Blake. The game was at a high point, he had to impress the others if they were going to get anywhere. "I'll go dare."

"You're not getting off with a headstand this time, not after what I had to do!" She looked around, trying to figure out how to wind him up best. Then she had the perfect thing. "You have… to sit on Yang's lap for the rest of the game. The bottle will still count for you if it points where you were before – and if you ever get up, you still have to eat the anchovy."

"Oh come on, even when the pizza gets here?!"

"Even when pizza is here. Only exception is if one of us goes to the bathroom," Yang encouraged. Leaning back just enough so he could find a comfortable sitting, she patted the top of her legs, eyes half closed as she smirked. "What are you afraid of, little man?"

"You guys are dicks." Moving from his position, he did as he was told, shuffling over and sitting himself on Yang's lap. At first he only sat on the edge by her knees, but Yang soon stopped that by pulling him in closer, right against her waist. To which he turned to glare. "Yo, hands off the goods! You have to wine and dine me before you get this booty."

Only a smug smirk from Yang. "Whatever. Just take your turn, my little lapdog."

"Hmph.…" Doing as asked, he spun the bottle quite harshly, until it landed on… "Weiss!"

"Ohhh great," Weiss sighed, cheeks still a little pink from the last time something had involved her. "Umm… I think I'll go with 'truth', actually. Hit me with your best shot."

"Ooohh… what to ask a popstar…" Sun tapped his chin in thought, looking back toward Yang to see if she had suggestions even. But when none came, he sighed outward through his nose. Until finally, he came up with the perfect one to embarrass his new 'seat' as well. "What's the craziest fuck you and Yang have ever had?"

"WHAT?!" Weiss burst out automatically, sitting up straighter. "But you can't ask THAT!" She hadn't noticed that she'd put her hand on Ruby's thigh to help propel herself forward… but Ruby certainly had. And by the blushy expression on her face, she was both scared out of her mind about it and unsure how to go about voicing her concerns.

"Actually, he can," Blake told her with an inelegant snort. "You can puss out, but if you do… there's the anchovies." Her fingertip nudged the can.

"Eww…" Curling her lip, she fell back again. Ruby breathed a huge sigh of relief when the hand went back to its owner's lap. "Well… okay Yang, judgment call. The time with the handcuffs or the, um… last time?" Her eyebrow went up challengingly.

"You had to make it one of those two…" Yang was blushing wildly, knowing either one of the stories would be potentially embarrassing, especially with her little sister in the room to hear it as well! But it had to be done. So in the end; "The last time… was pretty crazy, yeah. Go with that."

"Those are the two wildest." Straightening up, she smiled. "So it all began with an innocent little racist remark I made…"

The others listened in rapt attention as Weiss explained the setting and the thoughts going into what came next. A shadow passed over Blake's face when the hanfu was described, but she kept her feelings to herself. Now she understood Yang's reaction to her trying it on a little better.

Then she got to the part about the strapon, and everyone lost it. Penny looked like she was going to throw up and Ruby was clutching her ears and going "LA LA LA I DON'T NEED TO KNOW THIS ABOUT MY SISTERRRR", and the other two were laughing up a storm. So finally, she gave it up as a bad job.

"You can figure out the rest, right?!" Weiss snapped, folding her arms over her chest and blushing furiously.

"T-that, um… was certainly a… uh, wow…" Penny was looking wide eyed with a mix of her blush and concern. She certainly didn't expect to be hearing such intimate details about two people she knew very well, even if it was part of the game. And such a picture in her mind made her cover her mouth.

"Someone hug poor Penny, she looks so scared!" Sun remarked, unable to help shuffle in his 'seat' a little. "Hey, quit poking me!"

"I'm not," confessed a deeply-blushing Yang.

"You're no- oh.… I… ah fuck, and I have to stay here?" Soon Yang wasn't the only one blushing intensely as Sun resigned to his fate, crossing his arms and staying still, even though there was also now a warm, firm presence pressing against his cheeks.

Now it was Weiss who was smirking, even though she still looked very flustered. “Yang, are you trying to bang a boy in the butt?” Then she giggled, clearly still affected by her upstairs activities. “That had a lot of B’s in it.”

“Careful, or I’ll have to sit on Sun’s lap to keep that chubby down, and it’ll just be this vicious cycle of dick-sitting.” But Blake was smiling and clearly not serious. Then she looked over to Weiss. “Anyway, your spin.”

“Oh? Oh… okay.” Leaning in again — and much to Ruby’s relief, using her own knee for leverage instead of anyone else’s — Weiss spun the bottle, watching as it whizzed around until it landed on… “Hey, Penny! Okay, what’s it gonna be?”

"Oop…" Penny looked around at the various eyes that were all on her, still blushing intently from the story they all had to hear. But if she was dared, she'd probably have to make out with someone, or worse! In the end she played it safe, covering her eyes. "Truth! Truth! Just… Be gentle? I'm not as good at this as you guys."

Of course, that melted the diva's heart instantly. They had all been able to tell Penny was a bit more innocent than the others, and such moments only confirmed that. "Awww… okay, okay. An easy one. What is your favourite feature on Ruby?" As if it was necessary, her hand gestured to the girl sitting between them, who smiled awkwardly.

"My favourite feature?" she echoed. It was so much better than what she was expecting. Maybe she wouldn't need to eat anchovies after all. With a slight blush, she looked toward her girlfriend, smiling. "Well, she's simply adorable for one, but then she's also such good company, we can laugh about anything. Even something as mundane as what ice cream we like."

There was a chorus of "Awwwwww" from everyone. Then Weiss giggled, "Well, I meant like, her face or her boobs or something, but I'll accept that answer."

"Oh, that's easy. I like her cute little nose." And Penny even answered that as she leant forward to boop Ruby on hers, right before she spun the bottle again as Ruby giggled. And it landed on…

"Oh boy." Yang looked as it pointed in hers and Sun's direction. But she knew the rule, it was only Sun's turn when it pointed to where he was previously. Still, she considered this as an easy round. "Alright, dare me, Penny!"

"I dare you… To… Um.…" Penny was in thought for a rather long while, scratching her head and staring out into space. Although as soon as Ruby leant in to whisper something in her ear, she suddenly began to smirk, nodding her head. "Oh, that's good. I like it." Backing away from her girlfriend, she finally pointed. "I dare you and Weiss to allow me and Ruby to have the spare room!"

"What?! Oh come on, that's not fair!" Yang protested, even jumping very slightly, much to Sun's building blush.

"Eat the anchovy," Weiss told her. "Or that'll be the last fishy thing you eat for a whi-" Catching what she was saying, she slapped a hand over her mouth and let slip a muffled "Oh my GOD" as she covered the rest of her face with the other hand.

"WOW!" Blake guffawed, slapping the table. She tried to pull it together to further comment, but couldn't quite manage.

“Way to burn yourself!” Sun added.

"But… Ruby and Penny need the cuddle space," Yang protested. In truth, she absolutely hated the taste of anchovies, and somewhat wanted to sleep with Weiss on the sofa. It meant they would be extra close and able to do what they wanted downstairs. So in the end, she nodded to Penny. "Deal."

"Ughhh, Xiao Long, you disappointment!" Weiss flung at her as Ruby and Penny high-fived. "I'll sleep on the sofa and you can sleep in the bathtub for all I care!"

"Ohhh, don't be so mean," Blake chuckled, wiping her eyes. "She is supporting my boyfriend's muscular buttcheeks with her, um, lap at the moment."

"You're so in the dog house."

"Shut up, Sun."

And the game continued throughout the night. Pizza and Chinese both arrived on time, halfway through one of Ruby's dares to kiss Sun. It gave her a lucky escape at least, which everyone granted. But as the evening went on, the dares and truths varied in intensity. An hour and a half later, Ruby had had a small bottle of beer, Penny had been forced to wear her hair in ridiculous pigtails for the rest of the evening, Weiss's top was off and she was in her bra, Yang’s shorts were off so she was down to her underwear, and Blake had an anchovy when someone dared her to flash everyone. The consequence was kind of a copout for the hostess, after all.

Having just had an anchovy himself, when someone had dared him to touch Yang's member through her underwear, Sun spun the bottle again, until it landed on… "Ruby! Truth or dare?"

"Ohhh… I guess I'll take a truth this time, I've had so many dares!" she laughed nervously, biting her lip. Her silvery eyes had flicked to Weiss's chest a lot more than she had been hoping, but at least it was far less than she had been tempted.

"Okay… this one you can have a free pass if you want, only because I think your sister will kick my ass if it's too far." Briefly looking behind to Yang, who could only push her hips upward toward him in response, he laughed nervously. "Or even… something worse." Then he leant forward a little, asking, "What's the furthest you and Penny have gotten?"

"O-oh, we? Me and Penny? Well…" Glancing at her pigtailed companion with a nervous gulp, she looked around at the rest of them. "W-well, we have tried a few things, but not as much as you guys probably think we did."

"Come on," Blake purred, leaning on her elbow against the table. "Has to at least have been third base."

"Um, I don't know what that means? But like… well, we tried touching each other. And Penny told me afterward it didn't do much for her, in terms of horniness." By this point, Ruby was redder than her hoodie, but she kept going, probably due to the tiny drop of liquor in her system. "And um, I liked it, but I was so nervous that I, um… oh god, this is so gross; I think I peed a little."

"What? Wait…" Blake's eyebrows knitted slightly. "Was it really pee, or just clear? Like-"

"I don't really know, but I felt super embarrassed that it happened on Penny's hand and not mine, so w-we haven't tried that again!" Slowly, Ruby pulled the hood up over her head and drew her knees up to cover the gap in the front of it.

Penny was equally as red, covering her eyes and looking down toward the floor; this was definitely what she considered their lowest point. But at least it was over and done with rather than being delved into further. Only from behind her hands did she murmur, "This was that time we slept in Pyrrha's room too, and she and her boyfriend were asleep."

"Holy shit," Yang couldn't help but laugh. And once again, it resulted in Sun getting more and more flustered as he bounced on Yang's lap. As much as she was made uncomfortable hearing about her sister in that way, the story was something interesting. "Didn't think you two had that in you. In a good way, I mean."

But Blake wasn't quite through. For the first time since she had gone upstairs, she looked almost completely sober as her amber eyes gazed across at the totally mortified girl who was slowly unfolding herself. "Ruby… remind me to explain 'female ejaculation' to you, uh, sometime tomorrow. For now, go on and spin."

"Huh? Oh, um… alrighty." Reaching out, she flicked the bottle to careen in a circle until… "AH! I'm sorry, Weiss!"

"What are you sorry for?" the pop star yawned, stretching her limbs out. “This is part of the game.” But Ruby's eyes were glued to the display of her form, though she was trying to play it off as if simply waiting for her to finish yawning.

"Maybe we should make these few the last rounds. Looks like princess is getting tired," Yang teased while she watched Weiss for a moment longer, but then instead looked up to Sun as she gyrated her hips once again. "And this princess is getting horny."

"Oh fuck you," Sun complained, folding his arms and pouting for a moment as he looked toward Blake. "This is all your fault."

"Hey, if you wanna borrow him…" But when Sun didn't look amused, she just laughed and said, "Okay, Weiss, what's it gonna be?"

"Hmm? Oh… truth, yeah." Seemed Weiss really was tired from all her recent trauma, and not up for dares anymore.

"Okay, then." Ruby thought for a few seconds, trying not to pay attention to Yang's attempts to poke Sun in the front of his shorts. Then she snort-laughed as she asked in a joking tone, "What do you think is my best feature?" She sent a bemused look over her shoulder at Penny before turning back.

But Weiss only smiled, having missed that it was a callback to Penny's question earlier. "Probably your eyes. They're very open and engaging. But, I mean… I like all of you, so that's a pretty tough question."

"Aww, it's okay," Ruby said bashfully. "Now you can spi-"

"Actually, I thought about asking you out."

That certainly shut the younger girl up. So it was Blake who wound up demanding, "Y-you WHAT?!"

"Not that seriously," Weiss chuckled weakly, patting Ruby on the shoulder and being completely oblivious to how shocked the poor thing seemed. "But I mean, you're really pretty, I couldn’t quite tell if you and Penny were actually together or just really close buddies – but that was why I never asked. Not being sure. Still, you were so nice to me when I was… I mean, you know. Missing Yang. During that mess. And I started to feel really comfortable talking to you, so… maybe…"

The entire room fell silent alongside Ruby, including Yang, whose jaw would have dropped to the floor if it wasn't securely on her face. Of course, she'd meant the time they were in their brief absence from each other, which was entirely understandable for her to think such a thought. But the fact her sister was such a huge fan of her made it more interesting. She could never guess what Ruby's reaction was going to be.

One of Ruby's hands raised, finger pointed as if to make a response… and then she pitched to one side, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she landed in Penny's lap.

"RUBY!" Weiss burst out, startled from her sleepiness by the sudden turn. "W-whoa, are you okay?!"

But Yang could only erupt with even more laughter, only able to press her head up against Sun's back trying to contain the tears back from giggling so hard throughout the evening. "She fainted again! I can't believe it!"

But an ever-blushing Sun was getting even more squirmy each time Yang bounced. And eventually, he finally gave in and stood up. Seemed the game really was unwinding entirely now. "Okay, I give up, I can't do it anymore." Holding a hand out to Blake, he said lowly, "Anchovy me, my sweet. I'm too far gone for this world."

Chuckling, Blake instead reached up to grasp his hand, using it to help herself to her feet. "Nah, I think the game ended when one of us literally passed out. So I grant you a pass. You're did pretty damn well, though."

"Really? Oh thank god!" He grinned, standing as he watched the other four. Watching as Penny made a few futile attempts to get Ruby up and Weiss and Yang to both look at one another. It wasn't long till Sun remembered why. "So I'm guessing Yang gets the floor, Weiss gets the sofa?"

"Well, maybe Penny and Ruby could take this couch," Weiss said slyly, glancing at the unconscious form of the poor girl. "Since she has already claimed it by fainting here."

"Oh no, you're not getting out of this one! Anchovy or sofa, that's the deal!" Penny insisted, hauling one of her girlfriend’s arms over her shoulder so she could stand up with her, trying to keep her upright, or at least wake her up enough to walk up the stairs.

And Yang simply sat still in her place on the floor, slowly looking over to Weiss, until she finally grinned innocently and scratched the back of her head. "I really, really don't like anchovies, okay?"

The diva pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips, nodding downward. "Well, it looks like you like something well enough."

Laughing nervously, Blake said, "Hey, hey, this kind of stuff happens when you spin the bottle, okay? No big deal. You and I made out and I'm not standing here thinking it means anything."

"Well… alright, that's fair." But she did ask, "If Sun hadn't got up, would you have kept grinding against him until you finished? Don't forget that one time we didn't quite get you out of your shorts before-"

"NOPE! We're not telling people that story, lalalalallalalala!" Yang very loudly called, getting back up to her feet again so she could start to hurry everyone out the room. Even though Sun was only laughing even louder while Yang continued to poke his back with her finger, jabbing over and over until he started to move.

"Alright, alright! We're going, we're going! We'll try not to come down ‘til ten, alright?"

"That information is appreciated," Weiss half-laughed as she helped Penny get Ruby to her feet. She had been hoping to play off her fainting, but in the end it was Yang's dare, not hers.

"Wha…?" Ruby muttered as they got her closer to the stairs. "I… something happened?"

"You fainted when Weiss said she thought of asking you out a couple of months ago." Penny filled her in, still holding her closely as she slowly paced up the stairs with her, watching to make sure she didn't slip at all. Following just behind were Blake and Sun, who waited until the younger girls were completely up the stairs before they followed. Giving them just enough time to look back to them both.

"Well, we'll toss you down a blanket in a few minutes,” Sun chuckled. “But the sofa is fine, right? It's extra snug."

"Don't…" Yang slapped her forehead, groaning outward. "You'll only put me more and more into the doghouse."

"YOU'RE ALREADY AS DEEP IN THERE AS YOU CAN BE, XIAO LONG!" Weiss shouted. Once they got to the second-floor landing, she turned to Ruby and said, "Um… was that too weird for me to tell you? Like, I was never honestly considering… you know, just that I thought you were attractive and a good friend, and that-"

"Y-you had better stop now!" The poor girl was as beet red as she had been before she passed out, and weaving as they approached the bed. "You're w-with my sister, that's good enough, I'm h-happy to be sorta-kinda related to you!"

Snorting in laughter, she pulled off the girl's shoes while Penny was removing her glasses. Then they rolled her into the middle of the bed. "Sorry again. And I would never have come between you and Penny, anyway; I don't play games like that!"

"Oh, I know you'd never! In fact, I remember we didn't actually tell you that we were together; only Yang. So you had no way of knowing!"

Penny helped with her socks, giving Ruby a small kiss on the top of one of her bare feet just before she stood back up again to get herself ready. And the first step was to pull out the ridiculous pigtails and attempt to smooth her hair back to her normal, dignified bob. "I suppose such a confession makes up for us stealing this bed, correct?"

"Well… I guess it does, in a way." Watching how much Penny cared for Ruby made her smile, glad that her friend was in such good hands. "You two have a good night, I'll see you in the morning. And when Ruby's conscious again, make sure she knows I'm sorry for, um, throwing her for a loop that way."

"Oh I'm sure she'll be fine." Penny smiled, pulling the cover over Ruby, and then holding it so she could climb into bed by her side. Right away, even before Weiss left the room, she began to cuddle up against her. But that wasn't before glancing toward Weiss again. "And… I'm really glad you and Yang are going to be fine now. You make the perfect pair."

Grunting and rolling her eyes, Weiss was tempted to say something unkind about how ridiculous Yang had been that night… but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Expression turning contemplative, she breathed, "Yeah… I guess we do."

Once back downstairs, she saw Yang was doing her best to straighten up the room and she paused at the top of the stairs. "Okay, you brute! How many mistakes have you made tonight? Shall we tally them up?"

"Uuuhh…" A slightly more nervous Yang replied, hunching her shoulders as she stood back from Weiss's efforts. She'd cleared the floor of the empty boxes and bottles at least, but until they were handed the blankets and pillows, they couldn’t quite get to sleep. “Are we talking about the couch?”

"Aaaand you tried to fuck Sun," she added with a raised finger. "Plus, you didn't react jealously enough when I said I was briefly interested in Ruby."

"Well if I'm honest, I think all my jealousy was spent when you told me about you and Neon," Yang admitted as she was about to try and scratch her right arm, only to instantly stop when she felt the cast again. That snapped her back to reality. "But then again, I guess with Blake that's even… Okay, um…"

"Riiiight. Speaking of Miss Belladonna… you also didn't say a word when she climbed on top of me." Finally walking the rest of the way into the living room, she leaned against the stairwell railing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a show you were enjoying to the fullest."

"Well… I was the one who suggested it, dummy." But noticing Weiss wasn't stirring at all, her nervous laughter was beginning to die out slowly, until she looked toward the ground instead. "Should… I have not dared that? I thought it would be funny, and you and Blake seemed to be out of it, I just thought you'd both laugh or something…"

The glare only persisted, and she didn't move a muscle. "What do you think?"

Eventually she started to look downward, scratching her hair instead. "Okay, so it was mega hot to see the hottest girls I know making out. It's not like you protested! You were the one that got high with her!"

But by then, Weiss was starting to snort. Then she was giggling, doubling up as she leaned on the railing for support. And gradually, Yang was starting to look back up again and was able to notice as she was starting to crack. Thank god, she wasn't seriously angry.

Although that was cut short as she witnessed a quilt and three pillows headed straight for Weiss. And the clear voice of Sun yelling, "Heads up!"

"Ahah-huh? OW!" Instantly, Weiss was staggering toward the front door, throwing out her hand to brace herself from toppling. "HEY, we could have used a little more warning than that!"

But the loud laughter from Yang was enough of an answer for him, just as the snorting with laughter as well. It had been the loudest anyone had heard the bruiser laughing for the longest time. And enough for Sun to grin at Weiss from the top of the stairs. "It got your girlfriend laughing, so I don't think the feelings will be hard for long, do you?"

"That's not your call to make!" she called up at him. Yang, however, was still laughing, so she picked up one of the pillows and hurled it at her. "UGH!" And it hit straight in her face, forcing her to stumble for a moment, only for her to keep laughing for a little longer still, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Well, I'll leave you both to it." Sun had been just about to leave, before leaning to leave one more comment. "And no repeats of that crazy romp of yours on Blake's sofa!"

"Don't tell me how to live, you… you butt-monkey!" When Sun didn't reply, merely cackled and shut their bedroom door, she turned back to the other guffawing blonde and snapped, "Oh, cut that out before I really do make you sleep in the tub."

"I'm sorry!" It sounded like a high-pitched squeal as the laughter was starting to die down, being replaced with deeper breathing as she tried to compose herself again. "Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face! Best thing I've seen all month!"

"Oh really?" Even though she was still flustered, she also glanced upward in the direction of the bedrooms. Both of those doors had closed. What was to stop her? Pacing forward, past the blanket and pillow that remained on the floor, she reached behind herself and unclasped the bra, easily slipping it off and tossing it onto the now-clean coffee table.

"Still the best thing you've seen all month?"

The last remnants of her laughter completely vanished as she opened her eyes again, and bared witness to the sight she hadn't seen in so long. Her girlfriend, half naked. She never expected for it to hit her as hard as it did, but seeing it after all this time and sadness made her instantly relax, and speak softly.

"God I missed you."

The partly-haughty, partly-irritated expression on Weiss's face completely vanished, and she reached down and picked up the blanket and pillow, walking over to Yang. She didn't engage with her… not right away.

"Let's get comfortable. You might be a pig, but I… can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be than in your arms tonight."

"Think two months is a long enough wait." As Weiss set up the last of their temporary bed on the sofa, Yang picked up the last pillow that was thrown at her face, joining her again as she tossed it against one of the arms. It was certainly going to be snug, but Yang couldn't imagine a better evening after so long of being apart from her, to be cuddled right into her lover and snoozing off to sleep.

Pulling her own top up and over her head and off, she then also attempted to reach back and unclasp her bra, only to find that task incredibly difficult with one arm in a cast. Weiss told her, "That's okay, I got it." Once the bra was unclasped, she left a soft kiss in the center of her back. The breath that came after it had a slight shudder, and she passed her hands up from the lumbar to the shoulderblades, only pushing in very slightly with her nails.

"Hmm…" Allowing the bra to fall rather freely to the ground, she sighed contentedly at such a feeling. The soft hands of her diva were back, the tender touches, the delicate kisses, everything had returned. Part of her thought it was a dream, that she'd wake up and be back in the awful state she was in a week ago again, back to the scariest moment of her life.

But that wasn't the case. Letting her eyes flicker open again she looked back toward Weiss again, slowly smiling.

"Hey," Weiss told her quietly, biting her lip nervously as she gazed up into the violet eyes she had missed so desperately for so long. Now that they were finally, truly together and alone with each other, she wasn't sure what she ought to be saying.

But Yang was. She gradually turned around to face her properly. First thing was first: she pressed a soft kiss against her forehead as she took her hand, pulling her toward the sofa. "C'mon, let's snuggle."

"Let's."

Soon afterward, they were snuggled up in the sheets, shirtless but otherwise covered. Weiss was content to be Yang's little spoon, and snuggling her face into the arm underneath her head gratefully. Her hands were both pressing into the back of the cast nestled between her breasts, as if worried it might run away. And her big spoon was breathing softly, head nuzzled against the top of hers, occasionally dipping down to take a deep breath in through her nose. The same scent that she loved so much. All the little things she took for granted felt so good to finally have back. From the occasional little twitches Weiss did to get comfortable, to even the sound of her breathing.

But she couldn't quite sleep yet. Even if she was in the most comfortable place, she was simply content. Letting her her hand softly stroke Weiss's stomach, she spoke softly. "Anything you wanna talk about, now we're completely alone?"

"No," she breathed softly, smiling to herself as her eyes were closed, fingers running over the textured surface of Yang's cast. "The last thing I want to do is ruin this… perfect moment with my girlfriend. We have all the time in the world."

"That we do. So we'll have more cuddles, as well." She leant forward to press a soft kiss on the top of her hair, nuzzling into it again and getting comfortable. Somehow she could tell there was something still on her mind. A sense she didn't think she'd be able to have for a while. "So come on, spill it. Don’t want you censoring yourself."

"Well…" She raised the hand gently, careful of the cast as she pressed her lips to the fingers. "Not that I'm angry about it, or even that upset, or anything. I'm just… curious why you didn't tell me about your medication."

"…Oh." This wasn't a subject that Yang had expected. She knew Weiss was well aware of her hormones, but not that she knew of the antidepressants. But even though she wanted to run a mile away from the discussion, or ignore it completely, she accepted her fate. "I just… I didn't want you to worry. You did enough worrying about me this past week."

"I understand. I do, I completely understand that instinct. You wanted to protect me, and worry about dealing with this situation later." Unable to remain still, she rolled over until she was nose-to-nose with her girlfriend, eyes open and serious. "But that isn't what I want. I don't want to be protected by everyone all the time; it's not real life, I'm not a child. You know what Winter did, don't you?"

For a moment, Yang's eyes met hers. But the instant the question was asked, they looked elsewhere while she breathed out deeply through her nose. "Yeah… I know what she did." Though then she looked back up to her again, shuffling in the sofa slightly to try and get comfortable once more. "But this is… different. Winter's wasn't her fault, it was what people were doing. This is… this is my head. My fight, and I can’t expect anybody else to tag in."

"Wrong. I am your girlfriend, your partner. It is our fight." Moisture threatened in Weiss's eyes, but she fought that down. Now was not the time to go to pieces. "But I can't help you fight it if you keep things from me. I can't trust you if you can't trust me."

It didn't stop Yang from crying, however. Yet again she started to avoid eye contact, looking downward while her eyes were starting to water again. In truth, there was more to it than simple protection. There was fear. And that much was evident when she leant forward, pressing her forehead against Weiss's.

"I trust you with my life." She managed to keep it together to speak at least. "But I don't trust myself, that's all. I didn't wanna tell you, because I didn't want you to think what happened here last week would happen again. I wanted you to know I can handle it."

"You can. I have faith in you. But there's no reason you should have to handle it by yourself, just so I don't have to worry… that's stupid." When Yang only continued to cry quietly, Weiss pressed her lips up against the underside of each of her eyes. "Don't keep me in a fluffy fantasy world while you suffer alone. That's not going to make me any happier."

Finally she started to open them again, looking back into Weiss's. She was right. Fighting this battle alone would do more harm than good, and would simply leave her in the same state she was last week. She was lucky to have been pulled out once, to do the same thing alone would be not just silly, but insane. So in the end, she pressed a kiss against Weiss's forehead again, then huddled up to her closely. Still grateful she could have that after so long. However, she couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"God… What a catch, huh? Trans and depressed. Lucky you."

"I believe what you meant to say was, 'A badass bodyguard with the sexiest dick of all time, who cares so much about not worrying me that she'd try to handle a debilitating mental illness all on her own.' Yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty lucky." The smile was cautiously bemused, hoping they could at least joke about it that much.

Managing to free her arm to wipe the few spare tears away from her eyes, she let out a small breathy chuckle, smiling contentedly again as she leant in to peck at her lips again quickly. "You're incredible, you know? Even without being a popstar."

"And so are you." Her smile fell away as she leaned up to kiss Yang, doing so twice. "We both came pretty close to losing each other twice… and the second time was during the same disastrous concert. So yeah, after all that craziness, worrying about our lives? I wasn't really mad about Sun; you can do whatever you want. With him, with Blake… as long as I have you at the end of the day, that's what I need. And getting what I need is all that matters to me."

"You know all I need is you, right?" she asked, her uncasted hand finding hers as she threaded her fingers through them, holding her gently. "We were joking. As amazing as Blake and Sun are, and as much as I wanna thank them for this week and also keep them in my life, you're the only one I want to kiss, the only one I wanna bang. The only one I…" Then she was beginning to trail off. "No, that's dumb."

"Say it. Don't worry about it being dumb. If it is, I'll laugh at you and then we'll go to sleep." The last part was added with a smirk.

"Alright… Promise you won't freak out, or think I'm being an idiot, or whatever." When Weiss only continued to look and smirk, she continued the trail of thought. "The only one that I actually wanna settle down with. Like get a house, or apartment or something; a little Corgi or a cat of our own, even…" Swallowing a moment, she took a moment before she continued. "Even a kid, eventually, maybe."

"A kid?!" Bringing her emotions back under control, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was definitely a completely new area for them. "Okay, w-well… we'll talk about a cat. I like cats. The other things might come later. However…"

But then she stopped, a coy look flitting across her face. She had been about to say something, but decided to keep it to herself for the moment.

"What?" Yang tilted her head, noticing it was Weiss who was trailing off this time. Innocently chuckling, she squeezed her hand. "Oh come on, it can't be dumber than what I just said!"

"Nope." Leaning up, Weiss kissed the end of Yang's nose cheekily, then nuzzled it against her shoulder. "It's a surprise."

"Awwwh don't be like thaaaat," whe whinged, looking down at the mess of silver hair that was now nuzzled into her shoulder. And all she could do was squeeze her hand again.

"No way! I intended this to be a surprise and it's going to stay that way, Xiao Long! You made me wait an extra month to give it to you, so you can wait another week!"

"Ugh. Fine. I suppose I can manage." She finally gave in, settling into a comfortable position. And only once she was nuzzled against the top of Weiss's head did she feel truly comfortable. And truly content. Even if it was on a simple sofa.

"Yang?"

Cuddling slightly more into her, she sleepily replied, "Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're still with me. And I'm sorry about what happened with my sister, and about Neon, and… and I love you so much!" The last word was punctuated with a soft little sob, one that was so quiet that Weiss likely could have prevented it… but she simply didn't have it within herself to do so.

Yang wasn't exactly awake enough to reply with a whole speech, but she could at least repeat the words she spoke on camera. The words she now had no problem saying at all.

"And I love you, too. With all my heart."

[bakingthedetectives]

Chocolate Doughnuts For Lockwood And Co

'George had returned, carrying the tray on which he'd assembled a tea service I'd never before set eyes on. It was all fine-bone china and little pink flowers, the kind of mincing cups that are so delicate and brittle you expect them to shatter when you put them to your lips. This classy effect was slightly undermined by a teetering pile of fat jam doughnuts on a plate beside them'.

When I was young I had horrifying dreams on an almost nightly basis. When I look back they were all silly things, like the moon coming down from the sky to lurk outside my window. It seems ridiculous now but when you're 5 the moon being able to move really unsettles you. (Actually, I don't think we should just confine the fear of the moon moving towards us to when we're young, it really shouldn't be moving in that way at all, whatever age you are). Eventually I was taken to a doctor who said I was making it up, so we went to another doctor, and he told me to stop watching scary television shows, films, or reading scary books. I was 8 at this point...where was I getting access to scary films!? I wasn't, I wasn't involved in any frightening activity at all, apart from going to school but that isn't marketed as a scary activity. It is though. 

So anyway, the nightmare continued. I avoided all horror, shut myself away and suffered with insomnia for all of my early teens. Would you believe I accidentally watched The Wicker Man? Well, I did. I was at a sleepover at it happened to be on (by which I mean a small select group decided to wait until everyone else was asleep to gather round the tv. I wasn't one of those, but I was pretending to be asleep and watching it on my side). I loved it. I was obsessed with it. The psychology of it. The tragedy of it. And just like that the nightmares stopped. As it turns out...well, to quote Sherlock 'Your mind, it's so placid. Straightforward. Barely used.' Because I wasn't stimulating my imagination enough my brain decided to take over and all the little horrors came out at night. I wouldn't say I was the world's biggest horror fan, but a small dose of it now and again is enough to keep me sane! And this is the brilliant thing about the Lockwood and Co series. It is genuinely scary. The series falls into the 'young adult' category, but everyone would enjoy this. The difficult themes are dealt with honesty and wit. Children want honest stories, real people, and all of the characters are crafted so well you can really believe you're following a ghost-hunting agency in an alternative London. Lucy is clever and brave, George is a mother hen, and Lockwood is indeed dashing and scatty (it says so in the back of the book, but it's very true).

Finding a book that hands me everything I'm looking for on a plate brings me the greatest joy. 15 pages in comes the first mention of tea, soon after we've blossomed onto tea and biscuits. There's eggs and bacon and toast and cornflakes. There's jam sandwiches and ginger ale. And then there's the doughnuts.If you're going to be out battling ghosts all night I'd say doughnuts were the right amount of fortification needed the following morning. I was initially going to make blackberry and custard doughnuts, but as I was reading George decided to throw me off by talking about chocolate doughnuts. It's so rare that I make something specifically mentioned by the characters I felt I really must make more of an effort here. I went through chocolate dough, chocolate brownie mix, chocolate coatings, and then settled on an easy chocolate custard to go inside for a pure chocolate hit. They're thick and stodgy and I'm sure Lucy would say that rather describes George too. At the back of the book there's descriptions of all the different ghost entities. I think if I could be any I'd be a Gibbering Mist, they sound hilarious! What would you be? The only bread I am any good at baking is brioche. Anything with mounds of butter is a winner for me, so I've adapted my brioche loaf recipe to make doughnuts. I'm as surprised as you are that it worked! For the doughnuts: 375g strong white bread flour, or '00' grade flour 140ml warm water 45g caster sugar 7g dried yeast 3 large eggs 1/2 tsp vanilla extract pinch of sea salt 100g butter, softened Some caster sugar for rolling the doughnuts in cacao nibs (optional) for rolling the doughnuts in about 2l sunflower oil For the chocolate custard filling: 375ml milk 1 tsp vanilla extract/pure vanilla bean paste 110g mix of milk and dark chocolate1 tbsp cocoa powder 4 large egg yolks 200g caster sugar 60g plain flour ​1 tbsp cocoa powder 75ml double cream You will need a food thermometer, a heavy based saucepan and a piping bag. Put the warm water into a mixing bowl with all of the doughnut ingredients except for the butter. Mix for around 10 minutes in a mixer with a paddle beater (you can do this by hand but it'll take some welly). The dough will start to come away from the sides and look almost creamy smooth. Let the dough rest while you tear up pieces of butter. The butter should be soft enough for you to tear pieces off with your hands, but not so soft that it's melting and greasy. Start the mixer again on a medium speed and slowly add pieces of the butter and keep mixing until it's all been added. Mix on a high speed for around 5 minutes just to give the dough a good talking to. It should now be smooth and glossy. Cover the bowl with clingfilm and leave it to prove until it has doubled in size. Don't put it somewhere warm, just leave it where it is. It may take a while, mine actually never rises but I carry on regardless and it always works. Once it has proved, prod it a bit to knock it back, then put it in the fridge to chill overnight.   The next day, take out the dough and roll it into even sized pieces. I usually get around 16 at 45g each. Put them on floured baking trays, leaving plenty of space between them. Cover loosely with cling film and leave for around 4 hours to prove, or until doubled in size. Heat the oil in a fryer or heavy based saucepan, it should come to about halfway up the sides. Heat it to 180C. When the oil is heated and steady at that temperature, carefully slide in the dough balls, a few at a time. Fry for around 2 minutes on each side. Remove from the fryer and place them onto kitchen paper to drain. Carefully repeat the process until all of the dough has been used, then toss the doughnuts in sugar. Leave them to cool fully. Chop the chocolate into small pieces. In a large saucepan, heat the milk, vanilla, and milk powder on a medium-low heat. When it is steaming remove from the heat and add the chocolate. Leave it for a while to melt then use a whisk to stir it around. Put it back on the heat to warm through and thicken up, about 5 minutes. Leave to cool fully and thicken. To make the custard, heat the milk and vanilla in a saucepan on a medium heat until it comes to a gentle boil. Remove from the heat. Lightly whisk the egg yolks and sugar together, then sift in the flour and cocoa and mix well. Whisk some of the hot milk into the egg mixture and mix it all in, then slowly add more and more while whisking until it all comes together. Add the chocolate and stir together to melt it a bit. Put this all back on the heat and whisk until thick, about 5 minutes. If you feel the need you can pass it through a sieve to ensure there's no lumps but I've never bothered. Put it into a bowl or onto a lined tray and press the top with clingfilm to stop a skin forming and leave to cool fully. Whip the cream it to soft peaks and fold this through the custard and chill again to set it. When ready, fill a piping bag with the custard and pipe into the doughnuts by putting a small hole into the the pale ring round the centre. Pipe until the doughnuts feel full and provide resistance against the bag. Repeat with the remaining doughnuts and serve. These are best eaten on the day they are made, although if you wanted to keep them put the custard  in the fridge and keep the doughnuts in an airtight container, then fill them as you want to eat them.

Next time on Baking The Detectives...

'I've never done gardening. I don't know, what is gardening?' Braving some herring for Knut Angstrom. Use the social sharing buttons below to send this to the Detectives in your life.

[nerdforestgirl]

@antylar suggested: Could you write a prompt with both Amy and Sheldon being drunk?

“Hey,” Amy said when Sheldon returned.  He handed her the drink she requested.  Then he sat down under the umbrella next to her.  He sipped from the piña colada of his own.

“Virgin?” Amy asked.

“No.  I’ve had coitus several times,” Sheldon told her.

“I meant the drink,” she started, but Sheldon grinned at her.  She realized it was a joke, and she laughed at him.  And not just because she had to.  Sheldon was the funniest.  Sometimes.

Sheldon’s drink was not virgin.  He decided that if Amy was going to make them spend a whole day of their honeymoon out by the pool, he was going to need some alcohol to help him cope with it.  He was covered in sunscreen and had rented a big umbrella for them to share.  It actually wasn’t too bad.  Amy looked nice in her bathing suit.  He had a book he had been meaning to read for a while.  And now he was on his second piña colada.  It was still the worst day of his honeymoon, but it was not the worst day of his life.

As the day went on, the pair slowly sipped their drinks.  However, because they were mostly lying in the sun, they didn’t really notice the alcohol catching up with them.  Not until they stood to go back to their room.

“Oof.  Maybe that was too much,” Amy announced when she stood from the poolside chair.  She laughed at nothing and leaned into Sheldon.

“I agree,” Sheldon said.  Then he swayed a little.  He hoped he could even make it back upstairs to their room.  Sheldon gathered his things, but then put his arms around his wife’s shoulders to give himself some stability.

The pair carefully made their way upstairs to their room.  Sheldon thought the room was spinning when they got into it.  Then he remembered it was him.  It was the booze.  He started giggling.

“What?” Amy asked.

“The room is moving.  It’s like a ride at Disneyland,” he explained.

Amy started giggling too, but she still didn’t get why Sheldon was laughing.  It was all just somehow so silly.  She sloppily kissed his upper arm.  He was so kissable.  All of him was.  She kissed him again.

“Maybe we should get something to eat,” Amy suggested.  They hadn’t eaten much, which may have been part of the problem.  Then she fell onto the bed, facedown.  She did not move.

Sheldon inspected the room service menu.  He ordered a very expensive pizza and then joined Amy on the bed.

“Are you dead?” Sheldon asked his wife.  He poked her shoulder with his finger.  She groaned, so he assumed that she wasn’t dead.  “Let’s make out.  If I don’t do anything before the food gets here, I’ll fall asleep,” he warned.  He felt so tired now that he was on the bed.  He hadn’t been tired before, but it hit him suddenly.

“Have your way with me,” Amy offered after she rolled over onto her back, but otherwise did not move.

Sheldon shrugged and climbed on his wife to start kissing her.   Sheldon knew he wasn’t being as precise as he would be when he was sober, but there was freedom in this kissing.  She was his wife and he was drunk and he didn’t care about anything other than the way it felt to kiss her.  It felt good.  The kisses felt good.  Amy’s hands touching him felt good.  He wasn’t usually like this, but he loved being physical with her.

Just as Sheldon was about to take off Amy’s bathing suit cover up, there was a knock at the door.  At first he wanted to ignore it, but whoever it was knocked again.  Sheldon went to tell them off for interrupting him, but the man at the door just rolled a cart with Sheldon’s pizza and soda into the room.  Then he was gone as quickly as he appeared.

Sheldon peeked at his wife, who sat up while the man was in the room.  Her hair was messed up and her cheeks had a nice blush.  Sheldon looked at the pizza, but decided that Amy looked much more delicious.   He walked over to her and pushed her back down so they could kiss more.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Amy asked against his lips.

“Later.”

One thing led to another, and they didn’t get around to eating.   Instead, they went to sleep early after doing some other things that wore them out.

Amy woke up before the sun the next morning.  Her stomach was churning, and she ran to the bathroom because she was sure she was going to throw up.  Only since she hadn’t eaten in a while, nothing came up. It was still unpleasant.

A nude Sheldon showed up at her side a moment later.  He had a can of cold ginger ale pressed to his own forehead with another in his hand held out for Amy. He felt utterly terrible.  That was the downside to the fun of alcohol.

“There is cold pizza too,” he told her.  He didn’t know if food would help now. It would have helped the night before, but they had gotten distracted by coitus.  Amy gagged again at the suggestion of the food.

“I didn’t mean to drink so much,” she told him as she took the can of soda.  She cracked it open and took a tiny sip.  Her mouth tasted terrible.  She didn’t want to drink again for a very long time.

“Let’s lie down,” Sheldon suggested.  He didn’t want to get out of bed anyway.  The room was spinning again, but not in the fun way it had been the night before.  As it was, Sheldon wanted little more than hydrating and snuggling his wife.  It seemed that those would be the only things that might save him from his hangover.

[transformers-why]

Sickness' Suck, But They Don't!

Plot: You, the only human on the Lost Light, have gotten sick. @kalechips9 would like to see what Whirl, Rung, and Ratchet might do to take care of you!

(Whirl x Human! Reader) (Rung x Human! Reader) (Ratchet x Human! Reader)

Hope these are to your liking! (Long Post) Lemme know if there are any important typos!

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

Whirl

- The moment you let out this ungodly sounding cough, Whirl was curious.

- "What was that???"

- "Ugh," You would sigh, "I'm getting sick."

- "Oh." To be honest he was hoping you had developed some sort of sonic wave that could kill bots or somethin'.

- And while he wouldn't be concerned over a bot feeling a little under the weather, he doesn't know a lot about organics.

- Sick could mean death for you guys, right? Like, sick -> disease -> kaput. Right?

- Whirl is on high alert, even if he doesn't show it.

- But he does decree himself your protector against germs until you're better.

- Translation: Whirl is making you a fort in his room that you're gonna stay in until your not feeling like death. No questions, no protests.

- Like, he doesn't even tell you until you've made it to his habsuite and collected mass amounts of blankets, human sized furniture, and all the icky-sicky stuff (and fluffy stuff) you need to get improve your health.

- "Now can you tell me what we're--" *loud, dramatic sneeze* "--doing?"

- "Quarantine, silly!" He exclaims.

- You wish you didn't know what that meant.

- To be honest though, it was nice being under Whirl's... care? It only lasted a week, but it was comfy.

- Whirl spent a lot of his time with you, learning random Earth games and watching Looney Tunes and such.

- But when he wasn't doing that—so, 40% of his time—he was guarding the door. Anytime someone asked he would just say: "I have fragile company and you aren't allowed to infect them." or something like that.

- The food was nice too, apparently Swerve hooked you up when he learned you were sick.

- "Hey, Swerve just stopped by with some soup to help with your stomach..."

- "Aw, cool! Tell him I say thanks, okay?"

- Swerve didn't stop by with soup.

- Whirlybird is still low-key concerned when you're back in action.

- Like, for the next week he's basically staring at you constantly to check for any sign of sickness. Cyclonus gets a little concerned that Whirl's going to hurt you.

- But that suspicion is completely demolished when he notices Whirl reminding you to wash your hands, "Ratchets orders".

- Before you two go anywhere he makes sure the place was sanitized and stuff, just so the bug doesn't kick you down on your way to full recovery.

- Of course, you don't know any of this.

- Until you thanked Swerve a couple days later and he was completely clueless on what you were talking about.

- After piecing things together and processing that Whirl did all that for you, it was hard not to burst into tears from sheer awe and thanks because ohmygoshWhirlsasecretsweetheart

- Only when it comes to you, though.

Rung

- All I can say is that you are so lucky to have the universe's kindest, most understanding bot taking care of you.

- The minute he learned you were sick was literally a day before it happened. He saw every sign after reading through some organic medical books and getting a bit of advice from Ratchet.

- So when you stumble into his office, blanket wrapped around you and looking miserable, he can only frown and ask if you're alright.

- "Nooooooo...." You drone with a sluggish voice.

- So carefully, that way he doesn't pick you up wrong whilst you're wrapped in the blankets, he carries you a couple rooms over.

- Where he has a bunch of medicine set up on a small table and blankets and sick food and water and ginger ale and cartoons and----

- Your heart is pounding because you can't believe he thought of all this.

- But since you're kinda in a daze from being sick all you can manage is an "Awwwwww, that's so niiiiceeee..." in a very, very sickly and stuffy tone.

- Nonetheless Rung's heart soars when he learns that he's taken the right course of action.

- He does have patients during the day though, so for most of the day he has to leave you be. Rung figured rest and alone time would be better for you anyway.

- Although he does check in on you at least six times a day, to see if you ran out of anything or need assistance.

- He always saves a time halfway through the day to stop by and make conversation too, so you don't get too lonely.

- Rung will bring simple games, or maybe a ship to tell you about while you're not feeling well. He figured that telling you stories and playing easy games might help your mental state: make you feel less miserable.

- He's concerned, but actually isn't very worried you'll die or anything from being sick. Reading up on everything and checking in with Ratch kinda dulled any knife that was directed towards the "You're going to die!" idea.

- But he takes up the recharge slab in the room, incase you need something during the night.

- Because of Rung you recovered in about 2-3 days!

- And after sanitizing the room you made it you and Rung's peaceful hangout spot.

- While Rung is concerned you may fall ill again, he's aware that you're both prepared for when that time comes up. He's not too worried.

Ratchet

- Let's be honest when you walk into the medical bay all sickly at first, he assumes it's a joke and brushes you off.

- And then you go into a coughing fit that's so long it brings tears to your eyes and makes your lungs feel dry and makes Ratchet feel guiltyyyy

- And talk all you want, but I guarantee that Ratchet has your room about two doors down from the medbay.

- The first thing he does is sigh of course, and then he gently picks you up after he's done with a patient and takes you to your room

- "Come on, then." He would say in a tired tone.

- "What're you doing?"

- "Giving Starscream a grammar lesson, what does it look like? I'm taking care of you."

- Well obviously he's feeling fine.

- When he takes you to your room and sets you on the bed, it's a little surprising to see him walk over to a high shelf—that you didn't notice—and suddenly pull out a couple of bottles.

- "Here, one of these should help with your cough and sniffles, the text is too small for me to read." He makes you pick out the right one, and while you do that he disappears.

- Upon return the medicine kicked in, and Ratchet can't help but give a soft smile seeing you a little better.

- "Where'd you go?"

- "To get you this." He sets down a bag containing any food you may need for a cold, and continues saying that he's willing to help any way he can.

- But doctors orders are to get rest and eat. He'll help you, but first you're gonna do everything in your power to recover. He has other work to do you know.

- However still expect him checking every hour or so.

- He's a doctor so he is a little paranoid about you, the only organic on the ship, falling ill.

- Ratchet's acting pretty nonchalant but it's hard not to notice the concern in his gaze when he checks on you.

- But he is totally that person that would come in only to see you asleep, walk up and pull the blanket to your shoulders, kiss your forehead and leave.

- He apologizes to you when you fall asleep, about being so rude and not believing you were sick at first.

- No ifs, ands, or buts though because you are not leaving your room or the medical bay until you feel better!

- Those are the only places you're allowed and the only people allowed to see you is the Doctor Squad™, Ten, and Ultra Magnus.

- He'd allow Drift to see you but he's concerned that Drift'd try some ritual to heal you.

- He's not wrong, you turned King Religion down on his proposal when he snuck into your room to say hi.

- In Ratchet's care, it's a 4 day recovery, and a pretty comfy one.

- Although Ratchet can and will be paranoid about you getting sick again, and will bring back the "iiiip-yip-yip!" from Earth to shush and scold you about getting sick in the first place.

- But you'd hug his foot anyways, him trying not to smile, and give him a thank you. Because Ratchet always does the best he can, even if he's not good at showing his concerns in a positive light.

- Translation: He will go through and worriedly list all the bad things being sick could do to your body. And unless you fill him in on the common cold he will not calm down.

- Do expect him to be recharging in your room for the next couple weeks so you don't do anything stupid and are assured to get rest and stay healthy.

- You never got sick again on the Lost Light.

- Ever.

- It just didn't happen.

[acaseforpencils]

Jason Chatfield.

Bio: I grew up in the far flung suburbs of Perth, in Western Australia, and used to spend my paper route money on MAD Magazines (I cheaped-out and stole my dentist’s waiting room issues of the New Yorker. I think I was the only kid who looked forward to going to the dentist).

I moved to New York in 2014 and started pitching to the mag in person. I’m not sure Bob liked me, so I went back to pitching via email. Then I went in on his last day and finally sold my first piece. I feel like it was his final f—k you to the magazine. “Here! Have a Chatfield!” 

Find this print here!

The cartoon was a goofy play on Vlad the Impaler. 

I didn’t sell to the magazine again until last month, but I’ve had a handful sold as dailies. And I’m published in MAD often, so they’ve clearly done away with any of their standards.

When I’m not drawing gag cartoons I write and draw a syndicated legacy strip called Ginger Meggs which I took over 10 years ago. It’s been around since 1921 and now appears daily in 34 countries. He’s kind of an Australian version of Dennis the Menace, except he predates him by about 30 years.

Tools of choice: For drawing/roughs, I use a Prismacolor Turquoise clutch pencil with a red lead and try to find some paper with a little bit of tooth. The mixed media pads at Blick do the trick nicely.

I ink using a Uni-ball Vision Elite Stick Roller Ball Pen… or a Pigma Micron 03. 

DO NOT use the Uni-Ball Vision Rollerball Pens, Fine Point (0.7mm) if you’re traveling. They explode on planes. And ruin your copy of The New Yorker.

For a wash, I just use watercolor and whatever brush is lying around. Nothing fancy. There’s a scanning app on my phone called “Adobe Scan” which does a nice job of scanning line-art into a PDF when I’m out of the studio and need to email in a quick rough.

I use a Wacom Mobilestudio Pro for finished artwork. I like to get out of the studio and work from a bar or restaurant, so it helps that I can take that with me. I use a little glove that I got on Amazon so I don’t grease up the screen, and the felt-tip nib that comes in the pen-holder makes the friction between the stylus and the screen more like pencil on paper. Unfortunately, they’re not waterproof, as I found on a recent vacation…

My wife plays piano and sings at bars around the city so I’ll often sit at the bar during her sets and draw. Digital/Traditional depends on what deadlines are most pressing. (She has a weekly residency in Astoria —if anyone’s interested in going, let me know!)

A lot of people email me for advice about tablets —I’ve been trialling/demo-ing Wacom products for 15 years— I think they’re great. If you’re married to doing stuff by hand but want to colour digitally, you can get a decent tablet without going broke. Depends on your workflow.

Writing Desk: My wife and I were living upstairs in 5A when my neighbour in 4B died. He was a brilliant poet and had an incredible old writing desk. It’s the only thing that was left in the apartment, so I’m looking after it ’til his grandson moves in at the end of our lease. I work for countless hours at this old thing. It’s beat up, but I’ve patched it together enough that it won’t collapse and bury me mid-brushstroke. I’ve stuck a few of my favourite toons on the top of it.

Tool I wish I could use better: My brain. It really is a sack of cats. Whenever I want to sit and do work, it clocks off. Then it comes up with a pearler of an idea at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. I write it down in my phone, but autocorrect makes it indecipherable by morning.

I like working with my writer friend, Scott. We both do comedy at night and have developed a nice short-hand. We also seem to have the same library of references and can build on each others’ premises, which tames my sack-of-cats.

Tool I wish existed: The Deadline Extender.® I’ve never missed a deadline, but that said… an extra 3 or 4 minutes to allow for a terrible wifi connection, or a errant scanner wouldn’t go astray.

Also: The Deadline Extender® PREMIUM: Let’s you go back in time to when you were procrastinating and slap yourself in the face. $30 p/month.

Tricks: Ok, well. This is going to sound a bit Dalton Trumbo, but bear with me: I do my best work…in the bath.The most productive 3 hours of my week are during Scotchbath Sunday; an immoveable chunk of time on Sunday evening whereby I lock myself in the bathroom, run a bath, lug my drawing stuff onto a bit of wood that sits over the bath, and just write and draw. Nothing else. I write weeks worth of my syndicated comic strip (Ginger Meggs), I write New Yorker cartoons, scribble up roughs for dailies— and when I feel like I’ve earned it (usually 2 hours in) I tap the side of the bath three times, and my wife peels herself from her piano and I unlock the door to a nice big glass of scotch. It’s a hell of a carrot on a stick to work towards when you’re stuck. (PS. Lest you think I’m some kind of Don Draper-era misogynist; the scotch reward part was her idea. I think she realized it keeps me in the bath and out of her way.)

Anyway. It’s a great way to switch gears creatively. It’s like being on an aeroplane. No wifi, no phones — just the work you need to get done. Get involved. #ScotchBathSunday.

Oh! And if I get my deadlines done for the week, I have a small budget for a solo lunch somewhere where I can eat cheese and draw. I really didn’t know cheese ’til I moved to America. (And yes, I’ve already been to Wisconsin. Good Lord.)

Tips? I always tell younger artists to not even think about touching a drawing tablet until they’ve learned to draw by hand first. Otherwise they’ll always be drawing away, knowing they have the insurance of the CTRL+Z key at their disposal if they screw up a line. That’s not a good habit to have when you’re working to a deadline. But, once you do know how to draw, by all means dive head-first into the digital realm. It’s incredible. Procreate, Sketchbook or Photoshop are all great.

Misc: One of the hangovers from working in advertising illustration is that I’ve had to be a bit of a chameleon style-wise for the last 15 years and haven’t allowed myself to just settle into one style. Lately, I’ve just decided to say “Bugger it!” and try and find a loose, consistent style that I’m comfortable with, that’s an apt conduit to my silly ideas.

I always loved George Booth’s line, and his ability to create a scene with so much movement but just at the right moment in time. Also Sam Gross’ dark, hilarious cartoons with perfect line-economy. And I’d give my left arm (I draw with my right) to know how Barry Blitt has so much control with his washes…

Chatfield’s portrait of Sam Gross

While I’m geeking out, I love seeing younger cartoonists find their feet and thrive in a style that just feels like they’re speaking to you— Ellis J. Rosen, Sofia Warren, Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell, Jason Katzenstein, Amy Kurzweil, and a seemingly endless list of talented younger artists who are putting in the work are a big inspiration. 

I know it should be Steig or Thurber or Addams, but my favourite cartoonist is Sergio Aragones.

I was always so enamoured of MAD growing up and studied the lines of Jack Davis, Mort Drucker, Al Jaffee and the Usual Gang of Idiots. I remember being so frustrated I couldn’t even come close to getting my work to look like theirs, but I think I found a style somewhere in between when I fell short. 

I think Wil McPhail’s poses are masterful, and I wish I knew how how the hell he did that. One day I’ll trudge up to England and knock on his door to ask him. I find myself doubled-over at John Cuneo’s Instagram, and Ed Steed’s absurdly funny gags. I have a slew of toons I’ve torn out of years’ worth of magazines and taped to my studio wall, or my zillion year-old writing desk. I’m constantly humbled by how generous and welcoming the existing crop of New Yorker cartoonists have been to a goofy Aussie immigrant — Joe Dator, Matt Diffee and Pat Byrnes, Mort Gerberg and an ever-growing list of prolific, talented cartoonists who make the 99% weekly rejection tolerable.

I’ve made some of my closest friends and have been lucky enough to meet my cartooning heroes through the National Cartoonists Society. I got to spend a lot of time with Sergio at the Lakes International Comic Art Festival in the UK last year which made my year. We were signing together for a whole afternoon and I spent more time geeking out with him than signing.

Okay. Enough drooling. Sorry.

I’m a fan of cartoonists.

Website, etc. I have a weekly podcast where I throw around ideas for New Yorker cartoons with a fellow comedian and writer, Scott Dooley. It’s called “Is There Something In This?” It’s a bit of fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, but we do take the art of writing gags very seriously. It’s an extremely difficult skill to master, and we’re virtually zygotes at it. We have lots of listeners now, which is bewildering. Talking about drawing is like dancing about architecture, but here we are. Anyway you can find it on iTunes or wherever you waste time listening to podcasts.

My website is jasonchatfield.com and my comedy stuff is up at jasonchatfieldcomedy.com  ( I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for 11 years. If anyone wants to come see a show, hit me up! I’ll put you on the door). My instagram is @jasonchatfield. I’m still trolling the British chap who has the @jasonchatfield handle on Twitter to no avail. To that end, I’m @jason_chatfield on Twitter.

If you want more art supplies in your life, A Case for Pencils is on Instagram and Twitter.  You can also find me, Jane (the person who created/edits this blog), on Twitter here, which is where I stick the paintings that I’ve been doing instead of interviewing people consistently (I needed to balance working on other people’s work and my own work!). Oh, and If you’d like to support this blog, which is always very appreciated, there are many different ways to do so, which you can find here!