#yeah we ALL know you’re going to california/the west coast at some point

[asterdeer]

no offense but if mbmbam doesn’t come to gulf shores for a twenty sun and sea surf the vibe live show then they don’t deserve the year name

[atlanticcanada]

'It just seemed like a no-brainer': N.S. man completes 6,300-km hike from Mexico to Canada

A Nova Scotia hiker recently made the trek of a lifetime when he hiked from the Mexican border to Canada in 175 days.

Colin MacDougall's journey averaged 36 kilometres a day, for a total of more than 6,300 kilometres.

MacDougall says he went through six pairs of shoes during his hike.

"I approximately wore through a pair of shoes every 1,000 kilometres, so yeah, I burned through around $1,200 worth of shoes," he said.

As to why he chose to make such a massive trek, MacDougall says he's always looking for ways to challenge himself, both physically and mentally.

"And I've kind of heard about these long-distance trails through friends and media, and initially I heard about the Appalachian Trail, but since we live in the Appalachian, I decided I wanted to kind of go west coast and that's when I found out about the Pacific Crest Trail," he said. "And it just seems to travel through such a diverse landscape that I've never even seen or touched or imagined. So, it just seemed like a no-brainer to me to just go over there."

As far as the scenes and views MacDougall experienced during his adventure, he says many were "unimaginable."

"You start out in the desert, and then you make your way up to the High Sierra. And then you travel through Oregon, which some people view as mundane, but then you go to Washington and Washington and the Sierra are absolutely breathtaking. They're just somewhere you have to be."

According to MacDougall, he didn't shower, sleep in a bed or take a rest day for 32 days at one point due to a deadline with his visa.

"That was in Arizona. So, I kind of had a bit of a deadline because my visa was expiring and I really wanted to finish the Arizona Trail, and just with the nature of the difficulty with the trail, we were some of the first people to go through the season because of the visa issues and yeah. We just really couldn't take any rest days. There's no time to go shower, there's no time to sleep in a bed. It was just basically hike all day every day."

He says he was able to finish his trek one day before his visa expired.

"So, if I didn't do that, I probably wouldn't have finished."

In total, Macdougall lost 25 pounds during his adventure, and experienced temperatures from as low as -6 Celsius to as high as 44 Celsius.

As far as where he was able to get some rest, he says he used a very thin mattress to sleep on at night.

"Most people would not be able to sleep on it and think it's quite uncomfortable, but when you're hiking around 40 kilometres a day on average, on a day when you're hiking, you can almost fall asleep standing up," he said.

"I generally cowboy camped, which is just sleeping under the stars and not in a tent. I don't think I slept in a tent until 89 days into my trip, so through all of California I just slept under the stars and I just had a little sleeping bag or quilt over me. And I generally just used random things as my pillow, like a food bag, or my down jacket."

"For food, that's when it gets a bit more difficult because you have to eat these high-calorie dense foods. You don't want to be carrying a lot of weight, you don't want to be carrying something that might spoil or go bad, so you're generally eating a lot of sugar, you're generally eating a lot of salt and I wouldn't cook or prepare my food. I generally would just eat it how it was or I would do something called cold soaking, where you soak your food in cold water and eat it the way it is, like ramen noodles."

Following his hike, MacDougall says it was a bit of a shock returning back to his normal life.

"You're kind of just used to being by yourself or with a couple of close friends that you met along the way. So, initially I came back and was kind of just surrounded by many people just because I also had a small presentation on the subject and it was a bit surreal. It kind of felt like I was disassociating a bit and I just didn't know what to do with myself, and I just found myself just kind of sitting around all day and just kind of dying to get back outside," he said.

"Eventually, I went for a small hike with friends and it was kind of what I needed."

As far as Colin's next adventure, he already has plans in the works.

"So, I'm actually heading out in, I believe, 10 days to fly to New Zealand and I'm going to hike a trail known as Te Araroa , and that's a 3,000-kilometre hike across New Zealand from the north island to the south island."

MacDougall is chronicling his adventures on social media.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/G7nLKv0

[inkandpen22]

California Dreamin’ (2/?)

Pairing: Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: underage drinking, mild violence, drug use 

Part Summary: Y/N and Topper have lunch together and later attend the Cameron’s party. 

Masterlist

Y/N

After surfing for most of the morning, I've grown tired. The waves here are so different than in Malibu. I run out of the water onto the sand, tossing my hair to the side. I hadn't noticed Topper on the beach in the middle of a morning run until I return to my belongings. He slows to a stop once he reaches my stuff. 

"Morning," I greet with a warm smile. 

"I could see you down the beach. You're really good!" 

"Thanks! Years of practice." I giggle. 

He raises a brow. "What are you up to later?" 

"Well, there's the party at the Camerons since Ward and Rose are gone for the weekend. You're going right?" I ask. 

"I was thinking of making an appearance." He remarks wittily. "You free until then?" 

I shrug. "As a bird." 

"Would you want to get some coffee or something?" 

A faint blush forms on my cheeks. "Sounds good." 

____________________________________

Topper

Sitting at the small table outside of the cafe, I can't help but admire her as she talks about California. All changed out her bathing suit and into a cropped Boston band T-shirt and ripped up Daisy Dukes. Half of her hair is tossed up into a bun, the rest hanging loose in waves over her shoulders. She doesn't notice my absentmindedly listening as I analyze every inch of her, even her white Converse high tops, the laces so stretched that she can tie them around her ankles multiple times. 

The waitress interrupts my daze and takes our orders. 

"Regular black coffee and farmer's breakfast please," I request. 

"Lavender tea and granola acai bowl, please. Thank you so much." Y/N smiles, handing her menu to the girl. 

What the hell is acai anyway? Does anyone know? Because I don't. 

When her eyes meet mine, she giggles. "What? Are you gonna start calling me Granola Girl?" 

"I didn't even know how to pronounce acai until you said it," I admit. 

"You should try it! It's very good for you!" She encourages. 

I make a 'yuck' sound and cower. "Isn't it purple?" 

"Maybe... Don't let that scare you!" She giggles. "Branch out, Thorton." 

"Okay, I'll try it, but only because you're peer-pressuring me!" I laugh. 

After a few minutes, my coffee and her tea arrive. Almost immediately, she reaches for the bottle of honey on the table and squeezes some in. 

"Did you know it takes bees almost a month to produce honey?" She asks. "A little fun fact."  

I glance up from stirring my coffee right as she brings her honey-coated finger to her mouth and begins to suck on it. Her eyes meet mine innocently, not suspecting of my thoughts. Fuck me. 

I swallow hard and quickly return my focus to picking up my coffee. 

"Sarah mentioned a party happening at The Boneyard tomorrow. What's that?" She asks with furrowed brows. 

"It's uh... it's place on The Cut," I stammer, still caught off guard by the honey incident. 

She frowns as takes a sip from her tea. "Why is it called 'The Cut'?" 

"It's where Pogues live. It's just the less valuable part of the island," I do my best to describe. 

"Pogues?" 

"The people from The Cut." 

"Do you all from your neighborhood have a name?" 

"They call us Kooks." I shrug. 

"At least it's fair. Sounds rather West Side Story," she teases with a giggle.

The waitress appears with our food. My plate is rather basic, All-American breakfast. Y/N's is a symbol of the trendy West Coast. In summary, we fit our stereotypes. 

I'm hesitant to say what I'm thinking, but Y/N doesn't know the island as I do. She hasn't met any Pogues and should be careful. "You should stay away from Pogues. They have a tendency to steal and lie." I advise. 

Her face falters, apparently, they don't have stuff like where she's from. "Oh... wow... noted." 

"Yeah, I would stay close to Rafe or me tomorrow night," I suggest, genuinely concerned for her and partially for my own benefit. 

She smiles, taking a bite of her smoothie bowl. "Will do."

"Our friends will be there so you should be okay, but Pogues will be too. Tourons too."  

She laughs. "Is that what you call tourists?" 

I suppress a grin and drag my tongue across my lower lip. 

"So I'm a touron?" She questions with amusement. 

My eyes grow wide and impulsively, my hand travels across the table to land on hers. "No, no! Not you!" I then notice my hand resting on hers. Oh geez, I'm messing this up! "Oh.. uh.. sor-" 

Calmly, she glides her hand over, allowing our fingers to interlock. She brings them down to rest on her lap under the table. "You're fine, Topper!" She giggles. "You apologize too much. Relax. It's just me." 

A smile forms on my lips and I nod. She's right, it's her, she's not scary. She's kind and understanding, more relaxed than anyone I've ever met. 

"Here, try this." She scoops up some of her smoothie bowl, picking up some granola and fruit on top. She guides the spoon into my mouth and I try it. 

I nod, processing the experience. "Okay, I'm a fan." 

"I knew you would be," she grins, giving my hand a faint squeeze. 

The remainder of the meal, on the walk to the car, throughout the drive, and until I dropped her off, we hold hands. It felt so natural and right, as though our hands were made for each other. It was difficult to let go, to say the least. 

__________________________________________________

Well into the party at the Cameron's, Rafe challenges me to jump off the roof into their pool three stories below. Kelce gets him fired up, encouraging the challenge. Y/N and Sarah innocently stand nearby on the balcony, smoking a joint together. I would be lying if I said I haven't been watching Y/N all night. That yellow bikini should be illegal. 

"I'll do it if Y/N does!" I compromise. 

Rafe grins wickedly and I instantly regret what I said. He gets up from his spot on the couch and jogs over to the girls. He rests his hand on Y/N's lower back, dangerously close to her ass. I swallow hard, doing my best not to make a scene. As they talk and laugh, he glides his arm around her. The way she looks at him so intently, makes me wonder if it's solely friendly. Then again, Y/N has the ability to make everyone feel like they're the most important person in the world. 

"Oh, you're on!" I hear her tell him. 

Rafe takes her hand and brings her over. "She's down!" 

The next thing I know, Y/N and I are standing on the roof of the Cameron's house. 

"Scared?" I ask her as I peer down at the pool below. People stand with their heads tilted back, cheering for us to jump. 

She shrugs. "It's just like cliff jumping. I do it all the time back home." She slips her hand into mine. 

My eyes flicker down to our interlocked hands and an idea pops into my head. I tuck my arm behind her legs and scoop her up. 

She instantly flings her arms around my neck and squeals. "Topper!" 

"Ready?" I chuckle. 

"On three!" She giggles nervously. 

I nod and begin to count. "Okay! One! Two!" I jump and cheers ensue louder. 

Y/N screams and clings to me. Her face is hidden within the curve of my neck. Within seconds, the cool pool water consumes us. We break apart and I kick to the surface. When I pop out of the water and wipe my eyes, I find Y/N close by. She swims over to me, smiling brightly. I snake my arm around her and guide her legs around my waist. 

I point to her and announce to the cheering crowd. "This is the coolest girl in the OBX!" 

________________________________

Rafe

The party has died down, the sun threatening to rise in two to three hours. Topper and Kelce finish a game of pong outside and Sarah crashed a while ago. I watch dazed as Y/N takes another hit from the joint and hands it to me. She sits back onto the couch and leans into my side, resting her head on my shoulder as I take another hit. Once there's nothing left but ash, I set it down on the ashtray on the side table. I rest my now free hand on Y/N's knee as she rests against me.  

"So soft..." I mumble, rubbing my thumb over her skin. 

Y/N rises off my shoulder, resting her chin against it. I turn my head, meeting her red and dilated eyes. She smiles softly at me. 

I lift my other hand to caress her cheek. "So beautiful..." 

She stares into my eyes and I'm left wondering what's going on inside her head. My eyes flicker down to her lips and I want to kiss her. Following my instincts, I lean in. 

Shaking her head, she presses a hand to my chest and moves away. "Rafe, don't." 

I persist, scooting closer to her. "Why not? It's not like you're still with Nate," I chuckle. 

"We're friends..." She reminds me. 

I press against her shoulder to urge her down onto the couch. "We could be more." I lean in to kiss her again. 

Within seconds, Y/N's palm flies across my cheek with a smack. "Jesus Rafe! I said no!" 

I hiss, my hand covering up my cheek. 

Y/N takes the opportunity to slip out from under me. She storms off toward the staircase. I slam my fist against the back of the couch. Damn, that slap fucking hurt. She really knows how to hit! Suddenly, Topper and Kelce appear from outside, laughing and talking about the party. I pull out my vile of coke from my pocket, ready to release the pain in my face. 

"Where did Y/N go?" Topper chuckles as they plop down on the couch with me.  

"I don't know, bed? Who gives a fuck," I grumble, pouring myself a new line on the table. 

“What’s with the attitude?” Kelce questions. 

“Nothing, man. Just don’t care about her.” I hide behind a disdained expression. 

________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things@hockeybabe87 @jolomez @plutooryectors

[daringyounggrayson]

I’m sure you all ready have a ton but 59 with Bruce and Dick?

59: “Do you ever regret it?” 

AO3

As much as Dick wants to idealize the early days, when he really thinks about it, he and Bruce have always had their problems. They’ve had shouting matches and misunderstandings and disappointments since Dick’s first year at the manor. Nothing has ever been perfect, not even close. So why is he so surprised that things have gotten worse? He shouldn’t be surprised that the distance has grown. He shouldn’t be surprised that their silences have become loud and thick and uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be surprised that he wants to leave.

“I’m almost eighteen,” Dick says. They had a stake-out tonight, and aside from a few necessary sentences regarding the case, the two hadn’t said a single word to each other. 

Bruce makes a sharp left. “You’re sixteen.”

There’s a pause.

“I got my SAT scores back today.” Dick had been waiting for Bruce to ask him about it—the man had known he’d gotten them, after all; Bruce had sifted through the mail before leaving for work—and when he hadn’t, Dick decided to keep quiet about the whole thing. He’d decided that he would apply to the farthest college from here and leave without ever telling Bruce a single thing. He’d live a whole life without Bruce and he’d be happy. 

Except, that’s not what he wants. He wants Bruce to ask him about his SAT scores. He wants Bruce to care. 

“And?” Bruce asks.

“2200." Then, knowing Bruce will ask, he adds, "That's in the 98th percentile.”

“That’s great. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Yeah.” A pause. “I could go pretty much anywhere I want.” Especially with Bruce’s name behind him, but Dick likes to know that he can stand on his own too.

“. . . Are there any schools you’re considering?”

Dick shrugs. “Maybe somewhere on the west coast.” 

Bruce doesn’t say anything. Dick’s telling him he’s going to run to the other side of the country and he has nothing to say about it, positive or negative. One of Dick’s friends wants to go to UCLA, and her parents are proud and happy to send her, but she also said they got all teary-eyed when they mentioned the distance. 

His parents would’ve done that, he’s sure. But with Bruce, Dick could leave the planet, the galaxy even, and he probably wouldn’t even notice until he tried to give Dick an order and didn’t get a response.

They pull into the cave and get out in silence. 

Soon Alfred appears with cookies. “To celebrate your SAT results, as well as the end of studying for and worrying over that dreadful exam.”

Dick smiles, accepting the plate of cookies and popping one in his mouth. “Thanks,” he says through a mouthful.

Alfred tsks at him and shakes his head, but then he sighs and places a hand on Dick’s head, smiling softly at him for a moment before going back to whatever he’d been doing before they arrived.

It’s clear that Alfred will miss Dick when he leaves, that he’ll care about the distance. It hurt Alfred the last time Dick left, it’s something that makes Dick hesitate to leave again, especially without a proper goodbye.

When Dick glances up to look for Bruce, he finds that he’s already at the computer, typing up a report. 

Dick walks over and sets down the plate of cookies on the desk, then leans against the chair. “Need help?”

Bruce pauses his typing, then continues. “If you want something to do, you can run inventory. Otherwise, get some sleep. You seemed slow tonight.”

Dick scowls, pushes off the chair. “We were on a stake-out all night. What? Should I have watched nothing happen faster?”

The typing stops. “I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever.”

The chair turns, and then Bruce is looking at him. “I’m glad you did well on the exam. I’m, I’m proud of you, Dick. I apologize if I didn’t make that clear earlier.”

Dick looks away and feels like California is far too close to Gotham. Maybe he should apply somewhere out of the country, maybe Australia. 

“Do you remember when I ran away? After Two-Face almost killed me.”

Bruce flinches, but Dick doesn’t feel bad about his word choice in the slightest.

“Yes.” 

“I wrote you a letter. Do you remember that?” They’d never talked about the letter and what was inside. When Dick came back, it was to reclaim Robin and nothing else. Bruce didn’t want him to come home to be a son, he wanted him to come back to the manor, the cave, to be a good soldier. And now that Dick is failing to do that, he isn’t needed. Isn’t wanted.

“I . . . Yes. Why are you bringing it up now?”

“You never looked for me.” He hadn’t been sure, not really, but Bruce doesn’t deny it. “If I hadn’t told you about Shrike, you never would’ve—” Dick stops himself. “Do you ever regret it? Not coming after me?”

“I thought you needed space. I thought you would come back.”

Dick curls his hands into tight fists. “I was gone for weeks! Commissioner Gordon was more concerned about where I was than you were!”

“Dick—”

“Two-Face nearly killed me”—Bruce flinches—“That must’ve been fresh in your mind, but you didn’t seem to care at all that something like that could’ve happened again. Easily.” At one point when he’d been away, three different people wanted Dick dead. And Bruce hadn’t cared. And Dick had been a kid, he’d just been a kid whose so-called guardian hadn’t bothered to look for him.

“I should’ve looked for you.” Bruce’s hands are on Dick’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. You were my child, and I should've done everything in my power to bring you home.”

Dick’s eyes are hot but he refuses to cry. Quietly he asks, “Do you ever regret it?” Dick isn’t sure if he’s asking about Bruce not chasing after him or Bruce letting Dick come home. Maybe neither, maybe both.

Bruce is looking him over carefully. He cups Dick’s cheeks with both of his hands. “I’ll never stop regretting all the ways I've failed you.”

Dick steps back, pulling himself out of Bruce’s hold. He sniffs, nods several times. He looks back at Bruce and realizes that if Dick left right now, Bruce wouldn’t come after him. Bruce might eventually regret that too, given enough time, but regret would only lead to brooding and brooding always seems to lead to distance.

“I’m tired.”

Dick leaves and Bruce says nothing. He doesn’t chase after Dick like Dick stupidly hopes he will; he just goes back to writing his stupid report.

Fifteen minutes later, Alfred appears in Dick’s room and sits next to him on the bed. They don’t talk much, but Alfred does tuck Dick’s head under his chin and rub his back until Dick’s half-asleep. It’s enough to keep Dick in the manor that night, but Dick’s not sure how much longer that will be the case.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 12 - Final Chapter

* * * * * *

Natasha’s lithe fingers follow the trail of your spine, her touch on your bare skin gently stirring you from your sleep. 

The touch halts, lingering on a darker spot on your hip. Using the tip of her finger she traces the pattern of the birthmark. 

She hadn’t noticed that before. Just another thing about your body she’d learned in the past few days. 

While you weren’t sex crazed, after your first time together, you and Natasha had become much more sexually active. Almost every available night you spent tangled up in each other. 

That didn’t happen of course until after you’d both had a long and understanding conversation about what had happened. 

Now though, you’re both closer than you had been before, in every way. 

Natasha moves, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the mark on your hip, before curling into your back and kissing your neck. You, basking in her warmth and gentle touch, cuddle back into her and grab her hand, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest. 

“Good morning lyubov moya.” She speaks softly, each breath fanning your neck. 

You turn in her embrace, a sleepy smile on your lips,“ morning malyshka.”

A faint blush coats her cheeks as she ducks her head. Making you chuckle and press a kiss to the top of her head, arms tightening around her. 

Looking to the nightstand, your eyes widen when you realize you’d both slept well into the day, the time reading 11:35. No doubt due to the previous nights activities. 

“Tash, we should probably get up.” You tell the woman, just barely upset you’d wasted half the day.

She groans, somehow snuggling into you further.

You didn’t think you’d ever see the day Natasha Romanoff didn’t want to get out of bed. The woman consistently wakes up before the sun rises. 

“Don’t you just want to stay here with me?” Her words are a whisper against your skin and you shiver involuntarily. 

Biting your lip, you try to build a firm resolve in your head, but with the way Natasha’s fingers keeping gently stroking your skin, and the small pout on her lips, you fold.

Playfully groaning, you nod,“ I mean I guess we can stay in bed a little longer.” You look up to the ceiling in fake thought before meeting her gaze again.

"You make it seem as if this isn’t exactly what you want to be doing.” She teases, eyebrow quirked at you challengingly.

Of course she’s right. What right minded person wouldn’t want to stay in the arms of their love. 

Instead of indulging her smug attitude, you lean closer and press a kiss to her lips. She moves to deepen it, her lips adding pressure to yours. And then she pulls away abruptly. 

Eyes wide you back up a little, in case you just did something you shouldn’t have,“ what? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing I just, I have to pee.” She smacks a quick kiss to your lips and crawls out of bed.

You nod, then watching her sprint to the bathroom. While she’s in the bathroom, you use that time to get up and pull on some clothes, also picking up the clothes you and your girlfriend had discarded last night.

“This does not look like staying in bed.” 

Looking, your eyes move to the bathroom door where Natasha stands, hands on her hips. You can’t stop your gaze from trailing over the woman’s naked body. Every inch of her is beautiful: scars, curves, birthmarks, freckles, everything is breathtaking.

You nod and shake your head at the same time,“ yeah no I- well I was just tidying up is all.”

Green eyes narrow and she points to the bed. With a chuckle you obey, crawling back under the covers, and accepting Natasha into your arms when she crawls in afterwards. 

The both of you sit in the silence, reveling in each other’s embrace. A low hum leaves the ex-assassin’s lips when your fingers graze her scalp as you comb through her hair. The soft affection from you making her smile a little.

“Hey,” she squeezes you gently,“ I love you.”

Smiling brightly, you kiss the top of her head,“ I love you too Tash.”

Just holding her makes you beyond happy and you can’t express how glad you are things worked out. 

Seeing as you hadn’t exactly practiced what you preached, you hadn’t seen the benefits of total honesty with your partner. Now that you’re both on the same page it’s the most incredible feeling.

Natasha’s proven to be the most loving, understanding, and caring woman. Knowing that she can trust you wholly has her acting in a way she didn’t think she ever would. You’d pulled out this childlike happiness that she wasn’t allowed to have in the past. Moments like this: being affectionate and playful, happening more often. 

It’s not until Natasha’s stomach rumbles from hunger that you decide to get up. Leaving her to take a shower, you head out to the kitchen.

“Good morning Buck, Mister Rogers.” You nod to both men. 

They smile back, Bucky good naturedly patting your shoulder as you pass by.

“Looks like you slept well.” Steve notes, earning a scoff and chuckle from Bucky. 

“Or not at all.” 

Wide eyed you look back at the man, who sports a knowing grin. Steve’s cheeks heat up and you refrain from retaliating to Bucky purely for his sake. 

That doesn’t mean a comment isn’t made though.“ Jealous Rogers hasn’t put out yet?” 

All eyes fall to Natasha as she comes in smirking at Bucky and winking at Steve. You sigh, shaking your head at the woman’s antics and focusing on making her something to eat. 

As you cook, you engage in conversation with the three. They make it known that there’s been a spike in missions lately, something to do with some mad scientist over in California. 

Setting a plate down in front of Natasha, you ask,“ so they’re just mass experimenting on people and there hasn’t been any news on it?” 

They all raise their eyebrows at you as you sit to eat as well.“ What kind of news would you expect? It’s not like they’re interviewing the bad guy.”

“Well no, obviously, but if there’s suddenly a bunch of enhanced individuals tearing up the west coast I refuse to believe there are no reports on it. Some kid who saw them and posted about it, a family noticing their relative missing or showing abnormal abilities, hell a news report on some kind of superpowered mugger?” You explain yourself. 

You may not be here as a superhero but you’ve seen the way the public reacts to them. When the Avengers came out there wasn’t a news station that didn’t cover their every move.

“She’s right,” Natasha nods,“ we keep looking at underground channels instead of plain ole media.”

Both men share a glance, Steve then leaning forward and looking at you,“ where would we start?” 

A small chuckle leaves your lips,“ honestly, I’d go straight to social media. I don’t know what kind of programs or whatever you guys use but if you searched a particular word combination,” as you speak you go to wash up the few dishes you and Natasha had used,“ like superhuman + California it’s likely you’ll find something. Everything is always all over social media.” 

“So-”

Natasha quickly cuts Steve off,“ okay okay she’s given us a lead, let’s talk about it with Tony.” 

Both men nod, all of you understanding Natasha’s reasons for stopping it here: she doesn’t want you involved in this part of their work. 

In one of your many moments of honesty she told you that she would rather you not get into that. The team already comes back from missions and lays all that on you and you’re of course in danger enough just living with them, knowing in  depth mission details puts you further in danger and she refuses. 

And you’d also told her you genuinely didn’t want to be that involved anyway. As cool as you’ve seen being an Avenger can be, you have no interest in actually being one. Their therapist is a position you’re more than happy to fill. 

“Fellas, excuse us.” Natasha nods to them, taking your hand and pulling you back to your room. 

You can’t help giggle when she pushes you on to the bed and goes right back to cuddling you like you hadn’t left the bed in the first place. 

That’s where you both stay for the next few hours. Even when you decide to do something else she keeps you in her arms. While you play on your switch she watches over your shoulder, sporadically presses kisses to your neck, and asks what the heck it is you’re doing. 

Until the time approaches for you to get ready for tonight. Pepper had insisted that the couples of your friend group go out for the night. First dinner and then going to a play Tony had scored tickets to.

Wanting to be comfortable and still formal, you decide to wear a black pant suit, the top you choose is a solid black bralette, and you pair it all with a simple pair of black heels. 

“Zip me up?” Natasha steps out of the bathroom and turns her back to you.

As you do so, your eyes roam over her figure in the mirror. How she can make such a simple green dress look so beautifully elegant you don’t know but you love it. 

“You look gorgeous, love.” You tell her, pressing a light kiss to her shoulder. 

She smiles as she looks at you,“ as do you malyshka.” 

Once you both have everything you need, you leave out. Bucky and Steve are waiting for the two of you by the door and together all of you climb into Bucky’s truck.

Everyone meets up at the restaurant and are seated after confirming that they’re a part of Tony’s dinner party.

Admittedly you weren’t too sure about this whole thing for a number of reasons, but your worries fade away throughout dinner. 

There’s an amazing energy flowing through the group. It’s beyond entertaining to see the matching sass between Tony and Maria Rambeau. The woman is just as witty as Carol which makes their interactions with the billionaire very entertaining. 

You find yourself jumping from about three different conversations, one being with Pepper, Laura, and Natasha, the other with Clint, Steve, and Bucky, and of course the one with Tony, Carol, and Maria. 

Funnily enough, the first conversation sounds a lot like what you’d expect to hear from three wives, wine and partner complaints galore, with the guys it’s mainly sports(Bucky and Clint aren’t too happy about the MLB playoffs), and as mentioned, the last conversation is very sassy. 

“-if I can fly my suits I think I can fly a fighter jet.” The man continues is his argument.

With a chuckle, you look at him pointedly,“ Tony, my friend, pick your battles,” then you take a bite of your dessert.

Natasha notices the way your eyes widen and you eagerly take another bite. Her elbow gently nudges you and when she gives the cutest little pout you know what she wants. So you scoop another piece of the food onto your spoon and hold it out to her. 

A hum of approval leaves her and you smile, wiping a spot of chocolate off the corner of her lip, which elicits her to lean in and kiss you. 

The bubble pops when Tony speaks,“ it’s like we aren’t even here.” 

His words make your friends laugh, Pepper reaches over to smack his arm,“ pay him no mind, you two are adorable together.” 

“Natasha and adorable? Never thought I’d see the day.” Tony further teases.

“Hey T, remember when you lost that bet to me and had to wear-”

“Aye aye okay,” he raises his hands in surrender,“ no more teasing I got it.”

Pepper covers her laugh with her hand, knowing exactly what you’re talking about, and everyone else looks at you and Tony expectantly. But you smoothly change the conversation and everyone soon moves past that moment. 

Almost everybody. 

It’s after you’ve sat down at the play venue that Natasha brings it back up. 

The lights dim and she leans into your side, you wrap an arm around her, and the actors walk on to the stage to begin the play.

“Y/n,” she pokes your side making you look over at her, voice a whisper, she asks,“ what did Tony have to wear?” 

Resisting the urge to laugh out loud, you lean over to whisper in her ear,“ assless chaps.” 

Her jaw drops, the corners of her lips lifting in amusement,“ you’re kidding.”

You shake your head,“ it’s a long story but the moral of it is that Tony should not underestimate me.”

Even though your eyes are trained on the play you can feel Natasha still looking at you. 

If you were looking at her though, you’d see stars in those green orbs. Better yet hearts. You would see how absolutely in love with you she is. And she genuinely can’t believe it.

Had anyone told her, when you walked through the compound doors, that she would’ve fallen in love with you she would’ve laughed. And she would’ve been more wrong than she ever had been in her life. Because here she is staring at you like a lovestruck idiot.

You’d managed to come in and completely flip her world upside down. 

“Miss Romanoff, you’re missing the play.” A teasing smile masks your lips as you look down at her. 

Before you can turn away, she’s gently grabbing your chin, and kissing you. 

“Thank you.” Her breath fans your lips. 

“For what?” You frown.

“For proving me wrong. At every turn. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met-”

“Shhhhh.” A voice interrupts from behind you and you turn around to find a frowning, clearly pissed off, older man.

Locking eyes with him you whisper/yell,“ hey buddy my girl’s trying to profess her undying love for me, if you could just not butt in that’d be great.” With a thumbs up you turn back to Natasha,“ as you were saying.”

The woman shakes her head amusedly,“ I love you so fucking much.”

Even though you can tell she has more to say, it’s obviously not the best place for that. Besides you know the two of you have all the time in the world, so you simply kiss her again,“ I love you too.”

* * * * * *

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers​ @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #1: Avengers Assemble!

September, 1984

WHO will answer Hawkeye’s call to join the new team?

I assume Mockingbird? I see her silhouette in the cover box and the assumption was that she and Clint were a package deal? I don’t know what it’s being played like its not a given.

Some good or at least interesting options here for the second team.

Red Wolf, Iron Man, Puck, I thiiiiink Crystal?, Doc Sampson, Mockingbird, Cyclops, Black Widow, Wonder Man, Tigra, Quicksilver, Hercules, Ant-Man, Namor, and the Shroud.

A lot of interesting options. I really want it to be Cyclops and I know its not going to be Cyclops.

STOP TEASING ME WITH AVENGERS CYCLOPS IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME!

Also, this issue #1 of West Coast Avengers. Or at least the first issue #1. The team is introduced in a four issue miniseries before getting an ongoing - and a second issue #1 - about a year later.

This will be moderately confusing for my numbering but I’m brave enough to barrel on through anyway.

Last time in Avengers: Vision became the chairman of the Avengers and announced that due to the threat of the Dire Wraiths, the Avengers would be opening up a West Coast team led by newly married Hawkeye. In one page reminders of the subplot in various issues, Hawkeye and Mockingbird arrived in Los Angeles, went real estate shopping, and set up a new HQ in a nice compound that used to belong to an actress.

The team is only missing one thing.

A team.

Maybe it’s just me but I’d think that you’d get the team sorted out before you spent who knows how much renovating a compound up to the level required for a superhero team.

It’s going to be really embarrassing if you open a new Avengers team and nobody comes.

(Vision agrees and has taken the liberty of reaching out to several likely candidates.)

Mockingbird confirms that Hawkeye has invited her onto the team but she’s not even sure she’s Avengers material, she doesn’t even have powers.

Hawkeye: “Neither does Captain America! Neither do I! If I can be an Avenger -- !”

Mockingbird: “Anyone can, right?”

Hawkeye: “And people wonder why you took the code-name Mockingbird!”

Haha! I do like their chemistry!

He does clarify that its totally not just because she’s married to him (although I would point out that he kept trying to get Black Widow on the team based on them dating) but that she’s totally earned it! She has years of experience as a SHIELD agent!

Hawkeye calls Vision to let him know that the place is all set up and Vision lets him know about the reaching out to several likely candidates biz.

BOOM SCENE TRANSITION TO DOWNTOWN SAN FRANCISCO at the office of private investigator Jessica Drew.

Because, yeah, Jessica Drew did the PI thing as an ex-superhero way before Jessica Jones. And Jessica Jones is probably Drew with some of the serial numbers scratched off.

ANYWAY, she’s talking to hardboiled Tigra, who helped her on the Enselmo case.

Jessica Drew: “I still laugh when I think about the way you ran our pigeon up and down Telegraph Hill!”

Tigra: “That was the best part of the case! After all... bringing pigeons to ground is second nature to a lady who’s half-cat!”

Jessica tries to offer Tigra a job (since this is before the internet and Tigra can’t find a lot of modeling jobs for models covered with fur) but Jessica’s secretary interrupts with a call for Tigra.

The call sounds ominous from Jess only hearing half of it but I’m 99.9% sure its Vision offering Tigra a spot on the West Coast Avengers.

Read Tigra’s replies with that context and you’ll laugh.

Tigra tells Jess that she’s got to book it to LA for business that she has to settle on her own but they’ll talk about Jess’ offer later.

Tigra: “Don’t worry, I’m a big girl... I can make my own mistakes!”

I feel like a little bit of clarification would have gone a long way here, Tigra.

Because Jessica assumes that Tigra is in trouble and decides to call someone to tail (ha) Tigra.

Meanwhile, a car chase in the Mojave Desert.

To cut to the car chase, this is a movie set filming a stunt spectacular car chase scene for what I’m pretty sure is James Bond.

Pyrotechnics are easy if you don’t stress blowing up the stuntman.

Because he’s near invulnerable.

The stuntman (Simon Williams, Wonder Man) does need to have buckets of water thrown on him to cool him off after being in an explosion but he’s otherwise fine.

Cool that Wonder Man found an acting job he can handle. He seems pretty thrilled with it.

One of the staff on set tells Simon that his trailer is buzzing and he realizes its his Avengers transceiver.

He receives his offer from Vision (although apparently a much more vague one than Tigra) and flies off after making sure he has no more stunts scheduled for the day.

An hour later and hundreds of miles elsewhere, Iron Man (the James Rhodes version) is flying around, minding his own business, thinking about how cool it is to have relocated to California to help Tony Stark open a new business, admiring the Standord University Linear Accelerator Center.

Just as he’s thinking that he hopes that Tony isn’t in a hurry to being Iron Man since he’s gotten used to it, Vision cuts in on the secret Iron Man radio frequency to call him in to the meeting.

Iron Man arrives twenty minutes later at the West Avengers compound on the Palos Verdes Peninsula bluffs and paraphrased does an impressed whistle at what a nice place it is.

Iron Man: “Some spread! This looks like the kinda place Tony would’ve hung out... before he lost Stark International! The best part of being his pilot in those days was ferrying him to spots like this! Who’d have thought I’d ever be invited on my own? Then again, who’d have thought little Jimmy Rhodes would grow up to be Iron Man?!”

Future knowledge bums me out a little with this. This is spoilers for a year from now and several issues from now but in the time gap between the West Coast Avengers limited series and the ongoing, Tony does take over being Iron Man again. I hope you enjoy all this while it lasts, Rhodey. And hey, War Machine is only like eight years away!

Tigra arrives and starts acting familiar with Iron Man because she thinks she knows its Tony and they were teammates for a bit.

She ditches the briefly identity obscuring trenchcoat and hat because dammit she has a year round fur coat and its hot in California!

She also might be flirting, although hopefully not as bad as she’ll get later in the ongoing. Spoilers for a year and several issues for now but it is a bafflingly bad subplot that Tigra gets given.

The other reason I bring it up is that this is the exact situation that led Rhodey to quit the Avengers when he became Iron Man. He felt it would be awkward interacting with people who already knew Iron Man well.

I guess he’s more comfortable with it now.

The West Coast Avengers roster that we already know about are all people who either quit the Avengers or don’t feel like they’d be a good fit. Which is just a great start so I’m interested to see if we’ll get justifications for why they’d sign up the minute a franchise opens.

Hawkeye takes Tigra and Iron Man off on a tour while a mysterious shrouded figure watches.

The tour concludes without us seeing the tour, boo. But it comes up that neither Iron Man or Tigra know why they’re here.

Iron Man was just told he was needed but didn’t get any more details. We know that Wonder Man got the same vagueness. And Tigra was just offered a $1000 dollar stipend to fly out to LA and see if she could “help the Avengers out!”

So Hawkeye gives them the sales pitch.

That Captain America made it a rule that except in emergencies, the Avengers’ roster would be limited to six members. But Vision decided that they need more than six Avengers but wanted to keep the team from becoming unwieldy so told Hawkeye to set up an expansion team: the West Coast Avengers!

It’ll basically be the same thing as the original Avengers in terms of by-laws and rights and privileges and both groups will be affiliated but the West Coast Avengers will be running their own show west of the Rockies.

If everyone here agrees to sign up, that’ll make a team of five with a sixth spot to fill.

But Tigra objects that she left the original team because she felt out of her depth and why would that be different here?

Ah, now there it is.

Justify it, Hawkeye.

Except he doesn’t because the intruder alarm goes off.

The intruder alarm all the way in the first basement level, which means their intruder has already penetrated deep into the compound and bypassed a lot of the security systems.

Hawkeye is sure that the intruder is actually a highly organized commando raid and he’s instantly proven wrong with an infrared scan shows just one guy.

Womp womp.

Hawkeye is also sure that however this just one guy got as far as he did, the security system in the next area will totally--

Womp womp.

Hawkeye is fed up at this point and seals off the security levels, forcing the dude back through the domestic areas. He then orders Iron Man, Tigra, and Mockingbird to split up to cover more ground that way and surround the intruder.

Not having much better to do, they do, but everyone has some misgivings in their thinky thoughts.

Iron Man: Hawk sounds like he really gets into giving orders. I don’t know if I like that.

Tigra: I must be some sort of masochist to get involved with Avengers again! They always seem to know what they’re doing... not like me! What am I doing here? What am I trying to prove?

Hawkeye: Should I let the others catch our intruder... or rush in and collar him myself? How would Cap handle this?

Mockingbird: Poor Hawk... He wants so much to be a good leader! I know he can do it, but I wish he wouldn’t try quite so hard! In a way, though, it’s funny... His first act as leader was having the team split up!

Mockingbird is the first to run into the intruder, suddenly being enveloped in a cloud of darkness. She can’t see anything but hears someone moving and launches one of her staves from her spring-loaded sleeve launcher.

Its a near miss, breaking a lamp instead of the intruder, who turns out to be Shroud. Y’know, that friend of Jessica Drew’s we met in that two-parter about saving Jessica Drew’s ghost?

Shroud realizes how skilled Mockingbird is and that he might have trouble if he takes her lightly so he goes right for the Vulcan neck pinch, knocking out Mockingbird. But she hits Shroud in the stomach guts with her second stave as she’s passing out.

Hawkeye then shows up, concerned that he hasn’t run into Mockingbird yet and drawn to the cloud of darkness, except not the Final Fantasy villain.

He shoots a light arrow, except not the Legend of Zelda powerup, into the cloud to no real effect so shrugs and shoots a sonic arrow instead.

Shroud flees the area and Hawkeye finds Mockingbird who tells him to shut up with the EEEEE arrow.

Hawkeye: “Where’d our man go?”

Mockingbird: “How should I know? It was dark!”

Hah.

The cloud of darkness passes through the area of the mansion/compound that Tigra is in and she recognizes it as Shroud’s darkness. She calls out to him but he doesn’t hear her because he’s in another wing about to be tackled by Iron Man who can see Shroud with his in-helmet radar.

Controlling darkness is all well and good until technology.

Ain’t it said, Rumia?

Shroud is also blind so all he knows is that an armored man is lunging at him until Iron Man calls him a fool for trespassing on Avengers turf.

And that’s when he realizes that he done goofed.

Hmm. What is that symbol on Shroud’s hood, anyway? It looks kinda like Aku.

Shroud manages to escape Iron Man’s grasp, sacrificing some of his neat cape. Although, it tears into an even cooler look so is it really a sacrifice?

He decides that he’s just going to get out of here.

Shroud: Have to get undercover and think out my next move. I don’t want to fight Avengers! That could become a life’s work -- and I have better things to do!

I can’t decide whether he means that he’d be at it all day or that this misunderstanding fight would lead him down an unwilling path of villainy as some third-string grudge holder.

Probably the former?

Anyway, Shroud is just leaping over the balcony when Wonder Man finally arrives and spots him. And unfortunately for Shroud’s ribs, he has been cultivating a reputation as a crimelord so Wonder Man flies in and tackles him into a tree.

Womp womp, except for Shroud this time.

Tigra shows up and jumps on Wonder Man from forty feet away to stop him from hurting Shroud any further, explaining that he’s her friend.

Shroud: “I’m certainly glad I’m not an enemy... I’d hate to think how I’d be treated then!”

Hah.

Later, in the medical room, I guess, Mockingbird applies bandages to Shroud’s ribs except on the outside of his costume. Does... does that do anything? Obviously not for open wounds. But for bruised bones, I guess the point is compression. But it feels less than ideal because he’d have to take off the bandages to take off his shirt. Just feels better to apply the bandages under the clothes, MOCKINGBIRD.

What makes it weirder is that we see him a couple panels later pulling his shirt down over the bandages. Which makes me think Mockingbird bandaged him on top of his costume and he had to pull his costume top out from under them and pull it down. He didn’t just stop her because that would be rude?

Shroud explains that Jessica Drew asked him to keep an eye on Tigra because of how the phone call made her act all weird. He followed Tigra from the airport to here and ran into a gaggle of superheroes. 

In the meantime, Hawkeye has verified Shroud with a report Captain America filed on him so Hawkeye believes he’s a good guy now.

Wonder Man and Iron Man apologize for going in swinging and Tigra for not just telling Jessica what the call was about. But Shroud tells them no permanent harm done.

Hawkeye decides to offer Shroud the last spot on the team (assuming that everyone already invited is going to choose to stay).

Hawkeye: “That trick you do with the dark is one slick little number... and anyone who can hold his own against us as long as you did obviously has what it takes in the skill department. Besides, what you did reminds me a little of how I introduced myself to the Avengers -- I broke in, too! Come on... What do you say?”

Shroud say... no.

He’s honored and a couple years earlier he would have jumped at the chance. But Wonder Man’s assumption didn’t come from nowhere. Shroud has been spending the last many months building up his outlaw rep so he can take down gangs from the inside.

Like the Green Hornet, I guess?

But since it’d be hard to be an Avenger West Coast AND keep up the fake outlaw thing, Shroud has to turn them down.

Shroud then pulls his cloud of darkness disappearing trick and nopes out.

With all that tied up, Wonder Man asks whats the big thing that Vision called him out for, leading an exasperated Hawkeye to start his West Coast Avengers sales pitch from the top.

Mockingbird: “That’s the spirit, fearless leader! Just remember, it can only get better from here!”

Hah.

So, that was the first issue of West Coast Avengers.

And there’s still no West Coast Avengers team.

Tigra and Iron Man still have reservations about the idea. Wonder Man has no idea why he’s there.

Its an interesting decision to hit the ground walking with this team. But it makes sense. The initial plan wasn’t for the West Coast Avengers to get an ongoing. This limited series was supposed to establish the concept, give a few Avengers affiliated characters something to be doing off-panel, and be able to be pulled in for crossovers and guest appearances as needed.

So the book can focus more on Hawkeye’s trials in actually getting this team going. He’s finally gotten to be a leader of the Avengers like he’s always wanted and now has to deal with all the frustration that Captain America or Hank Pym had with him, and then some.

Still, funny that the West Coast Avengers’ first adventure has them not only not a team yet but spending their time beating up a friend due to mistaken identity.

Will they get their act together by the next issue? Only time will tell. I tell a lie because Chronos never spoils stories. Only me will tell or maybe the Internet.

Follow @essential-avengers​ for the rest of the West Coast Avengers limited series. And for eventual bafflement when they get an ongoing. Also, like and reblog.

[alsanderecho]

Tales of San Derecho: The New Press Secretary

The formation of a whole new state from the parts of two others should have been a surprise for the nation after a national election but it wasn't. Its new boundries encompassed part of southern California, as well as land in Arizona. There was very little fuss about its existence for the general public, as if it had always been there.

But there were those who did ask questions about how this new territory came to be. Some of them traveled to the newest state in the union, seeking the answer. These are their stories, along with those who found themselves now residing in the state of SAN DERECHO...

====================

"Shannon, something strange is going on."

The reporter looked with one raised eyebrow at Sheila Gerrolds, his editor. The both of them work at the Q-News, a website dedicated to reporting on national events and international happenings important to the LGBTQ community.

"Strange, how?"

"I mean, do you remember Joaquin Guerrero?"

Shannon had to think for a few moments before he remembered the outspoken gay Latino activist, which immediately struck him as being wrong somehow. Hadn't he done an interview with him during last fall's gubernatorial election in San Derecho?

"Y...Yeah. But not until you mentioned his name, Sheila. That's...weird."

"Exactly my point, Shannon. And he's not the only one..."

The editor rattled off about a dozen more names, and memories of these gay and lesbian activists flooded Shannon's memories. And again, he was at loss at how he could have forgotten them, considering some of them had been long-time friends/

"What's going on here? Where did they all go?"

"That's what I want to know. Over dozen of the most prominent LGTBQ activists go missing  on the West Coast over the last year and no one is raising a stink about it? There's a story here, an important one."

Shannon nodded in agreement, his mind already honing in on who might be responsible for these disappearances.

"And you think the new governor might be involved somehow."

"Precisely. You know what his platform was during the election, and now some of his biggest critics are missing? It just stinks to me."

"Right, I get it. Guess I'm going back undercover..."

Sheila nodded, aware that her best reporter had spent a good portion of the election last year infiltrating a certain candidate's campaign. Despite the success of getting on the inside, the whole thing hadn't turned up any actionable material.

"Yeah, but I want you to be careful. We don't know what is really going on here."

"I get it, but we've got to find out the truth. And maybe, we can bring this bastard down once and for all..."

====================

Getting an invite to the governor's mansion had been pretty easy, as Shannon's cover identity was intact and uncompromised. Still, he was being careful, as this whole thing was more than a bit like walking into a hungry lion's den carrying chunks of raw, bloody meat. If the governor or any of his people got even a hint of who he really was, it could go very bad for him very quickly.

Maybe that's why he waited in the car for so long before finally mustering his courage to approach the front door and ring the bell. The wait for an answer seemed to drag on forever until the door clicked open. Standing there was the governor's chief of staff, Jonathon Grey. Dressed in a dark grey suit, the man was the very image of the hyper-conservative types that the chief executive of the state San Derecho liked to surround himself with.

"Ah, Mr. Jones. So nice to see you again. It has been awhile, hasn't it?"

Shannon nodded affirmatively. He hadn't been this close to Grey since election night, and he was trying to ignore how attractive he found the man. It was a little bothersome because he reminded him of someone else...

"Yes, Mr. Grey. I needed sometime to figure out things after the election. But now, I think I know what I want."

"Excellent. The governor will see you in his study."

This surprised Shannon, who hadn't been aware that the governor even knew who 'Shane Jones' was. Every instinct the reporter had was screaming this was a set-up of some kind, but it was not something he could walk away from. Because despite the danger, it was an opportunity to get even deeper inside this crooked administration and find out what happened to his friends...

"Lead the way then."

====================

The study was a comfortable room with oak paneled walls and high shelves stocked with numerous leather bound books. In the fireplace, flames crackled and suffused the room with a flickering glow of yellow light. Shannon was ushered inside by Grey, who remained outside but closed the doors behind him. An almost faint click told the journalist that he had been locked in as well. He took a few cautious steps into this den of conservatism until a voice called out for him to "take a seat."

Said seat was in a thick leather chair with a high back and wings on either side of its occupants head. It was set in front of a dark oaken desk behind which sat the governor himself, his fingers steepled and a grin on his face. On his desk was a framed picture of him and his blonde wife. Shannon couldn't quite recall her name before his host spoke.

"Shane, welcome. So glad you've come for a visit. Can I offer you a drink?"

The gray-haired politician motioned to a small bar set into a wall behind him. Shannon shook his head to say no as the governor seemed amused at the response. The older man's expression then became serious.

"Now, can we dispense with this pretense, Shannon?

The millennial reporter was caught off guard by his real name being spoken aloud by the governor. He tugged nervously at the maroon sweater he wore, trying to laugh it off. But the man behind the desk wasn't having any of it.

"Please, don't insult my intelligence or that of my staff, Shannon. We've been aware of your true identity and the website that employs you for quite some time now."

"I..I..I don't know what you're talking about..."

"I said to NOT insult me, Shannon."

The gay journalist shuddered slightly, as the governor's voice resonated with a surprisingly arousing air of authority. He had to keep his head about himself.

"Alright, fine. I am who you think I am. Do you know why I'm here?"

"Of course. You're here to investigate what happened to my most outspoken critics in the LGBT community. I did wonder how long it would be before you or your editor would notice. Anyone really..."

Shannon said nothing, trying to remain focused on his surroundings. If this man was this free with his words, then this had to be a some sort of trap...

"Please, please. Do relax. I'm perfectly happy to tell you everything."

"Is this some sort of trick?"

"No, it's merely the truth, Shannon. Isn't that what you really want to hear? The truth?"

Shannon nodded, feeling a calm settled over himself. It was strange, but the words coming from the Governor's mouth seemed to be the source of this new tranquility. The smile of the older man's face confirmed it.

"So, shall we begin?"

====================

Shannon sat there, dazed. He wanted to get up, and flee this place but for some reason, he found himself just sitting there listening to the Governor talk.

"You see, I think there is someone inside you who wants to come out. A better you, a hetter you, Shannon. All you have to do is listen to my voice, and let it guide you to a new....perspective and understanding..."

The reporter nodded numbly in agreement.

"This modern world is losing touch with its past. Things were so much simpler before all of this social justice nonsense overtook everything. Black and white, right and wrong. Don't you think?"

Another nod, but it was accompanied by a rippling of Shannon's clothes. His sweater seemed to moving of its own accord, the material clinging closer to his body now. Sudden, it pulled itself so tight that it ripped apart at the shoulders, and revealed that underneath were the sleeves of a crisp white button-down dress shirt that hung a little loose on his arms.

"A simpler time....black and white...right and wrong...man and woman..."

The part of the sweater that remained was fluttering as most of it split into two thin straps that looped over his shoulders, reconnecting into a y-shape via a triangle of brown leather from which another strap clipped its to the back of his jeans. In the front, the new suspenders settled into place as brass snaps clamped down Around his neck, a heavily starched collar unfolded itself, sending a line of buttons down the front of the dress shirt. A rustle of fabric revealed that the last piece of his old sweater had curled itself under the collar and knotted itself into a long tie.

"Black...White...Right...Wrong...Man...Woman..."

The words battered into Shannon's head, as he tried to understand what was happening. He was afraid as he could something or someone stirring in the depths of his subconscious, drawn to the power of those words. If he'd only realized that his fear was only going to quicken the pace of his transformation...

====================

"You're not the first to hear my message, Shannon. Far from it. And you won't be the last, But I digress a little. I did say I'd tell you the truth, didn't I?"

Shannon couldn't respond, his body frozen as new changes begin to effect him, this time below his wait. The jeans he'd been wearing were shifting, denim softening into a light blend of cotton as blue was leeched away and replaced with a dark brown. Crisp creases snapped into place down the front of the developing trousers.

"You see, I didn't always have this...influence over people. I'm not sure where it came from really but it showed up when I was just starting my political career. I discovered that my words had an effect on people, especially those who disagreed with me. Not only did they come around my point of view, but some of them actually completely changed!"

A leather belt slid into the loops at Shannon's waist and tightened itself as as if locking him into his fate.

"Do you remember Lizzy Dion? Probably not, I suppose. She was my opponent for mayor during my first re-election campaign. A very outspoken advocate for gay rights, and a tough debater. That old bag really had me on the ropes during our first head-to-head if I'm being perfectly honest. Might've beaten me too, but oddly she disappeared before election day."

The governor chuckled a little, as if at some private joke before he stood up and came around the desk to seat on its corner. Shannon wanted to curse at him but...why? After he'd done a lot for this reporter, hadn't he? He didn't realize he was starting to grin.

"Of course, I'd soon meet my beloved Lisbeth and she became my first real supporter in my rise to the office I currently occupy. The perfect politician's wife really."

Shannon nodded in agreement. The governor's wife was a real smart cookie, and quite the looker too. He blinked, not sure why he found a woman to be attractive, let alone that woman. But his cock? It knew what it liked and that blonde matriarch really got its attention!

"Getting back on track, with my wife by my side, I ascended the ranks of the Republican party swiftly. I had a great staff as well, picked up all along the way. You'd be surprised how many times I got asked where I found so many loyal and dedicated people..."

The clothes which had been hanging a little loose on Shannon grew more fitted now, as his lanky frame began to fill in with muscle. It was still lean, but now held more strength than one might expect. His butt tightened up, as his old sexual practices were wiped away. He'd do a lot for a story but letting someone get past his backdoor? Never!

"Like me, boss?"

"Exactly, my boy. How are you feeling now?"

"I feet great, boss. But I'm still a little confused about why you're telling me all of this..."

The governor grinned at the still changing reporter, who was coming along nicely. The fading Shannon's feather and poofed hair was starting to slick itself back, darkening from brown to black in the process. His once smooth chin had squared itself out, and the first signs of his trademark five o'clock shadow were gracing with each passing moment.

"Just a little refresher, son. After all, you're working on my next address to the state, right?"

The reporter nodded enthusiastically. He'd been working on a real firecracker of a speech for the governor. His grin widened to reveal a set of white teeth that seemed to sparkly. A thump came the floor next to him, where his smart phone had been pushed out by his transforming pants. It had shifted and twisted, glass splintering into nothingness as it became a leather-covered notepad out of which stuck his favorite pen.

"Good, good. Now where was I again?"

"You were talking about your loyal staff, boss."

"Right. I don't know what I'd have done without you or Joaquin..."

Looking up from his notepad and the notes he'd been busily scribbling in it, Stanley Journo stared blankly at his employer and mentor as the strange name crossed his lips, A shrinking part of who he used to be seemed to be rallied by its mention.

"Who, boss?"

"Jonathan?"

"Oh...right."

And just like that, that last bit of Shannon faded away as he realized what had happened to Joaquin Guerrero. But the man sitting in the chair now didn't really care about that anymore, because he had more important stories to cover.

"That's should be enough for the speech, boss, I'll have it on your desk first thing in the morning."

"Great, Stanley. But I do have one more task for you tonight. In your capacity as my press secretary, I need you deliver a message for me..."

The governor pulled out a tape recorder and presented to the retro-styled journalist. The snarky grin was now permanently plastered on his ruggedly handsome face, as he tilted up the fedora resting on his head.

"Whatever ya' say, boss..."

====================

Sheila had not left the offices of the Q-News, her concern for her best reporter telling her that she needed to be here just in case. But she didn't even notice that she could no longer recall that reporter's name as she spoke to her girlfriend on the phone.

"Listen, Elle, baby. I'm gonna be home late tonight... It's a big story and I'm waiting for...

A knock on the door caused Sheila to jump out of her seat a little. As she finished up on the phone, the door swung open to let in a tallish lean man dressed in a dark grey vest and brown slacks. A cigarette hung from his lip while a old-fashioned press pass rested in the band of the fedora that rested atop his slicked back do.

"Heya, Chief. I got a scoop you just gotta hear to believe..."

*CLICK*

"You see, I think there is someone inside you who wants to come out. A better you, a hetter you, Sheila... All you have to do is listen to my voice, and let it guide you to a new....perspective."

[moldisgoodforyou]

you’re my home

“why do i feel like jj would just love all the domestic aspects about being with charlie. like brushing their teeth together at night or watching her fold her clothes into the space he made in his dresser for her or watching her dance around the kitchen making coffee in the morning. like i feel like he would love the sense of home&simplicity he gets from those moments with her that he never got before from anywhere or anyone else”

inspiration from this ask ^ thank you :) this is just a set of little blurbs about what jj and charlie would be like living together! 

wordcount: 2k

____

JJ wasn’t used to living with someone in such an intimate way. Sure, he had shared a dorm room with five other guys his freshman year, a sleeping dorm with way too many guys sophomore and junior year, and had the perk of a single bedroom in the frat house his senior year - but it wasn’t quite living alone. Living with John B in the summers wasn’t exactly the grown-up life he had envisioned as a kid, then after graduation, he moved into a pseudo-frat house with seven guys. The house was a constant mess and just plain chaotic, but it felt right - he didn’t think he was quite old enough to retire from the college lifestyle. 

Once he got his job out in California, he moved in with Charlie and was quickly thrown into a world of home decor (apparently a hobby of hers he had never noticed). Lucky for her, he liked being handy and was able to help build a couple shelves and such and save a little money. 

At first, they danced around each other a little. They made the abrupt switch from not seeing each other for months to living together in a matter of days, and it was an awkward exchange of being open about finances and squeezing past each other in the tiny bathroom to brush their teeth. But soon they found a groove, and JJ grew to love the pattern. 

Though he would never, ever admit it, JJ was a romantic at heart. He insisted on music during dinner (“it sets the right ambience, Charlie”) and it always depended on his mood, carefully curated for the day.  

After fumbling their way through a dinner recipe together, neither of them being skilled in the kitchen, Charlie insisted on starting on the dishes right away. “I don’t get why we have to do this instantly.” JJ complained, bumping his hip against hers. Charlie shook her head, handing him a dishtowel. “We’re trying to start a routine here. My parents always did it this way and it worked, so.” 

“At my house we just used paper plates and threw them away. Or piled up the dishes for a few weeks and then finally scraped off the food.” JJ reasoned. Charlie just shot him a skeptical look, turning on the faucet. “JJ, I say this in the nicest way possible, but maybe we shouldn’t model our lifestyle after your childhood.” He laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” 

After a few dishes, he grew bored and swatted her butt with the towel, making her yelp. “Can we finish?” She asked, giving him an exasperated smile. JJ reached over and shut off the faucet, taking her hands as Love You For A Long Time by Maggie Rogers drifted through his phone speaker. “No, c’mere. We have a dishwasher for a reason.” 

He pulled her away from the sink, roping her into a waltz with a goofy grin. “J.” Charlie protested, but let him lead her into a twirl. “Hush, pretty girl, I’m busy dancing.” He replied, pulling her close. Charlie didn’t hesitate to rest her head on his chest, swaying in a steady circle with him. This became a regular occurrence - she always objected at first, trying to finish cleaning a few more things, but then gave in to his embrace. 

_

JJ also learned there was nothing better than coming home to his person. Their work schedules varied, but most days Charlie was home first if she wasn’t working an athletics event. If he had a bad day, she could usually tell just by the way his texts were short and to the point. One time, after a botched client meeting, he came home and dropped his bag by the door, not bothering to say anything to her as she sat on the couch. 

“Hi to you too.” Charlie teased, following him into the kitchen. “Hey.” He acknowledged, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry and pouring some onto a plate. “Long day?” She murmured, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He softened, turning so he could rest his chin on the top of her head, replicating the embrace. It was the sort of hug you could melt into, knowing you were safe in someone’s arms. “Love you.” He murmured, closing his eyes. She hugged him for a beat longer, then lifted her head to catch his lips. “Love you too, J.” 

_

JJ grew into the habit of waking up before Charlie, partly because he was incapable of sleeping in on the west coast and partly because she was so damn cute when she slept. He learned to cook the basics for her, and always made sure she had a cup of coffee and some toast with scrambled eggs at the very least. (Pancakes were reserved for special occasions.) The first time he did it, he woke up her with barely enough time to get ready and eat. She was caught off guard and tried to show her appreciation, but had to do her makeup in the car that day. After, he learned to wake her up enough in advance. 

The one time he overslept, he felt a weight on his conscience when he woke up to see Charlie already gone. She had to be at work early, but he had the day off, and they had stayed up til 3am last night after mutual agreements of ‘just one more episode.’ He woke up at 10am to a couple texts from her - snoozing in? and not gonna lie I’m hungry lol and immediately felt guilty. 

He dragged himself out of bed, tugged on clothes and shoes, and drove down to their favorite coffee shop by their apartment, then straight to the UC Berkeley campus. JJ parked out front of her office and texted her, leaning up against the car. Charlie came out five minutes later, confused. “What are you doing here, isn’t it your day off?” 

JJ held up a coffee and to-go bag with her favorite bagel flavor (that he had to practically beg the baker to make, since they were out). “You said you were hungry.” Charlie grinned, greeting him with a kiss. “You didn’t have to do this, hon, thank you.” He shrugged but filled with pride, knowing he was able to take care of his girl. 

_ 

One day in December, Charlie came home in a bad mood. She let the front door slam shut behind her and barely acknowledged JJ in the kitchen before storming off to the bedroom, flopping down onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. Frowning, JJ stopped his cooking and followed her in moments later. “What’s wrong, did I do something?” 

“No, you’re perfect.” She mumbled into the pillows. He paused before hesitantly reaching out to rub her back, unsure if she was being sarcastic. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He was surprised to see a few tears welling up in her eyes as she lifted her head and curled into his side, resting an arm across his waist. “We got the bowl schedules today. I’ll be gone for two and a half whole weeks, including Christmas.” 

“Oh.” He murmured before falling silent. With Charlie’s job as an athletic trainer with the football team at UC Berkeley, they had known she’d have to travel for post-season, but he never considered her having to be gone for so long. “Well, I’ll just buy a ticket, and I’ll come visit you on Christmas.” 

She sniffled pathetically. “No, you have your tradition with the Pogues. You haven’t seen them in so long. And I’ll be so busy with work, I’ll hardly see you anyways.” Charlie sighed, a small pout on her lips. “My mom is gonna kill me.” 

JJ frowned and pressed a kiss to her forehead before running a thumb over her lips. “How about...I go back to the Outer Banks, but I go to your place for Christmas dinner? I’ll check in on your family and everything. And then when you’re back, we can go home again or we can have Christmas with just us. Your choice.” 

She lifted her head, biting her lower lip now to try not to cry more than she already had that day. “Really? You’d do that for me?” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her sweetly. “Of course. I know it’s important to you.” That was enough to break the seal and a few stray tears fell down her cheeks as she buried her face in the crook of his neck again. “God, I love you.” He laughed softly and continued to rub her back soothingly. “Love you too, sweetheart.” 

_ 

In the days leading up to her departure, he kept stealing extra glances at her as they went through the little motions of everyday life. Sure, they had been apart for nearly six months when they did long-distance, but now that they were back to seeing each other every day again, he wasn’t sure how he’d handle being alone. (He even picked up a habit of flossing just so he had another excuse to linger around her more as she did her makeup in the mornings.) 

Before she left, he tucked little notes in the pockets of her suitcase and backpack, strategically hidden so she wouldn’t find them all at once. Once she was gone, he found himself texting her more than usual - just to check in - until she eventually had to tell him that no, she was not dead in a ditch somewhere just because she didn’t reply to his text within ten minutes. 

At first he had fun with being alone in the apartment. He could do whatever he wanted and had some guy friends over, ordering pizza and played video games with the volume all the way up, kicking their feet up on the coffee table. But after a few days, he felt guilty that the dishes piled up in the sink and his shoes were left haphazardly by the door, so he made a point to tidy up - and proudly showed Charlie how clean the apartment was over Facetime that night. 

He hated every bit of her being gone. He hated the empty side of the bed (so he slept with her pillow), he hated how quiet the apartment was, he even hated that the bathroom counter didn’t have her usual makeup and flat iron scattered across it. JJ had never been more excited to go home to the Outer Banks - not just to see the Pogues, but to see what he considered his second family too. He watched the football game at her parent’s house and had never been more excited to see her on the sidelines, even if it was only for a split second as the camera panned across. 

When Charlie finally returned to Berkeley, JJ picked her up from the airport with a bouquet of flowers and the biggest grin on his face as she dropped her bags to jump into his arms. He hardly let her go a second without touching her, keeping his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the car and his hand on her thigh the whole ride home. He didn’t realize how much he missed her like hell until they were finally together again. 

When they walked into the apartment together, he pulled her into another warm embrace, arms wrapped tightly around her and his face tucked into her hair. “My home is back.” He murmured. 

She pulled back just enough to catch his lips in a kiss, grinning. “What do you mean? You’re in your home.” 

He shook his head, grinning back. “It’s not home when you’re not in it.” 

[lilhawkeye3]

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty seven: skin and valentines

“the flies come roaring out, and will surround the entire world, and blacken out the sky and every last one of you, like a plague of locusts, like an exit, like an end.” -”burning bright (a field on fire)”, nine inch nails

i can finally say this now: BIG OL’ SMUT WARNING!

Testament were about to head out on tour at the very end of the month when Sam had the idea to make a drawing for them as a good luck charm of sorts. She also finally decided to head out with them while on tour given she was already in the thick of it all with traveling back and forth between her parents' houses. The other alternative was staying back home there in California and doing nothing to save herself.

She had that business card of which Charlie had given her before and she knew the only way in which she could do something with it was if she went with them. They did have a few stops over in New York after all.

In the meantime it had been a couple of weeks since he had told her that Anthrax were headed into the studio and there was no word if Joey would join them as of yet. Even though she was well nestled within their circle, it almost felt as though she had been put at a distance. The West Coast stood out as a completely whole separate world from back East. If nothing else, she had to bring both worlds together in some way or fashion.

She worked on that drawing all month long until they left for upstate New York and she finally decided to join along with them. As far as everyone knew, she wasn't their groupie, but rather their resident artist. She came up with the story that she would follow them wherever they went and made art along the way for them.

But that drawing consisted of the finest pen work she had made since Cliff was alive.

The snakes on her head. The look on her face.

It was sort of a self portrait: she based the expression on her face off of the way in which she looked in the mirror's reflection in the mornings. The way her face was shaped. The way in which the serpents riddled and writhed around the crown of her head. She had to draw it and she had to draw it up not just for herself but for those five men as well.

It was also around this time she began to see the mysterious man in her dreams once again.

He often appeared to her in fragments those times around: rather than full fledged dreams, but she knew it was him. The way in which his hair waved about and the way he always gazed back at her from the void. The way he seemed to burn into her memory like the ripe bright cherry at the end of a cigarette.

And she still had no idea if he was supposed to represent Alex or someone else. All she knew was Marla was the only other person who saw him in her dreams when the going got rough.

She finished up the last of the serpents on Medusa's head the night before she flew out to upstate New York with Testament. The more she thought about it, the more appropriate it felt to her to have drawn up Medusa before she sat next to Alex again on the plane. Greg and Eric were on the other side of the aisle from them; meanwhile Chuck and Tiffany took to the seats right behind them, and Louie was right next to an old man on the other side. Sam and Alex were surrounded: no way they could act upon each other there on the flight, especially since he kept his nose in the book he was reading all the while.

“You brought some of your drawings with you, right?” he asked her at one point, to which he lowered his book from his line of sight. For a brief moment, she looked up at the little tuft of gray atop his head and she swore it grew within only a couple of weeks time, from a slight pearl to a full on tuft the size of a baby carrot.

“There was no way I wasn't going to bring them with me,” she told him in a low voice: Louie's soft snoring right behind them caught her attention. She peered across the aisle to find Greg had fallen asleep as well while Eric paid attention to a few letters he had received just prior to the tour's onset.

She opened her journal right there for Alex and showed him that drawing of Medusa, to which he gasped at the very sight of it. Those thin lines of black ink that made up the scales on the snakes. The richness of the green skin. The way in which her eyes glared at the both of them from the nothing.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“I'm extra proud of this one, yeah,” she confessed to him.

“As you should be—that's stunning.”

“You know what else I wanna do?” she asked him.

“What's that?”

“Well, seeing as we're on a plane and there really isn't anyone else paying much attention to us—”

He raised his eyebrows at that.

“You're not suggesting...” he muttered, and he hesitated right in his tracks.

Sam turned to a fresh page right at the middle of the journal and without sparing a scratch of graphite or a drop of ink, she drew up two bodies right there on the page before her. Alex tucked his bookmark in between the pages and set it down on the tray before him so he could watch her.

The smooth angles of a young man in his prime. The smooth gentle full curves of a young woman.

He raised his eyebrows when she added the black hair on his head and left a spot black for the tuft of gray over his brow. He showed her a smirk when she added her features on the woman.

“Oh my,” he whispered. “You really are Georgia O'Keeffe. Go sexy some more.”

She brought a finger to her lips even though it was obvious no one paid any attention right then.

He showed her a sweet, thoughtful smile when she signed her initials at the bottom of the page.

“Mmm, sexy erotic art,” he noted. “No one can ever know about it, though.”

She shook her head at that and she looked over to see Eric looking in their direction.

“What about me?” he said to them in a low voice, and Alex brought a hand to his mouth to keep his laughter from growing too loud.

Then Sam remembered that Eric had offered her a date. She had hope that he would do that for her at any given moment during that tour, but as long as they didn't do it there in upstate New York, she would be fine with it.

Within time, they landed there in Poughkeepsie and Sam recognized that shoulder length blonde hair under the lights of the airport.

“Bel!” she called her.

“Hey, Sam!” Belinda greeted her with a tight embrace: she had missed the way in which she smelled.

“Hey, Belinda!” Louie followed up from right behind them. Chuck rounded out the group hug from the left there.

“I've got to call my dad and tell him that we made over here in one piece,” Sam told them; and Belinda turned to Eric for a hug himself.

“Good plan, li'l Sammich,” Chuck said.

“Hey, when's Father's Day this year?” she asked him.

“Father's Day is the—eighteenth, I think? We're going down South then so we might not have a phone nearby.”

“I could just skip on it,” she suggested with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You forget and you become the girl who forgot Father's Day,” he told her. He lifted his gaze to right behind her and she turned around for a look back at him there. Those long black curls down around his shoulders and the little pile upon his head so it actually resembled to a crown of sorts.

“Joey!” Sam declared, and her heart hammered inside of her chest.

“Sam! I thought that was your caboose right there—” He extended his arms towards her; as she came closer to him, she noticed tears in his eyes. She held him so close and his lips grazed against the side of her neck, as soft as they had ever been before. The softest they had ever been before towards her.

It felt so long since she had touched him and felt his body pressed up against her own. He leaned into her face and pressed his lips to her own. His tongue slithered right into her mouth and she wondered where they were headed from that point onward.

She knew Alex stood there right behind them all the while but she didn't care. She had her arms around Joey's slender body and her lips locked onto his.

His brown eyes sparkled with life as he led her away from there.

“Where are they going?” she heard Belinda ask Alex right behind them. But she couldn't hear what he said to her given Joey led her all the way back to the little shops at the front of the airport.

“Joey, where are we going?” she asked him at one final point.

He led her into a gift shop which, had she not known any better, she swore was a lingerie shop. There was no one else in there with them: Joey guided her to the edge of the room, right behind a rack of snow globes. They were nestled back there on the freshly vacuumed carpet. No one else but them.

He put her lips to hers and he ducked down behind the snow globes. She followed suit to the floor with him.

“Fuck it,” he breathed into her ear. “Fuck it—just fuck me. Right here, right now. Right in front of everyone.”

She reached down and caressed the crotch of his jeans with three fingers. Joey whimpered right into her ear. She made out and had phony sex with two other men before then but she needed to do it for real right there with Joey himself. He fell to his knees before her and then he lay down on the soft clean carpet. His black curls sprawled out from underneath his head in those rich lush waves.

“Sit on me,” he begged her.

Two men who begged it from her and specifically from her of all people.

“Sit on my face,” he begged her, “sit on my face and let's get it on hot.”

She was about to lose her virginity with Joey. That rite of passage that everyone talked about and made such a huge deal about this whole entire time.

She set her courier bag down on the floor right there. She stripped off her jeans and took a seat right over the prominent tip of his nose.

The edge of his tongue slithered around on her lips as she spread her legs a bit for him. It was difficult given they were in the midst of a gift shop but they were tucked back in a small corner of it all. She could only hope that no one else would see or hear them as Joey licked harder for her.

She gasped as the feeling only persisted with him. She lifted up and took a seat on his hips. No one else around them, even there in broad daylight.

Joey gagged on something. He coughed a few times and covered his mouth with the full palm of his hand.

“Shhh,” she hissed to him, and with her finger up to her lips.

“Hello?” someone on the other side of the room called out.

“Damn it,” he groaned. “The next time we get a moment alone, I hope it's at the hockey rink.”

“Hello, hello?” the clerk called out again.

Sam lifted up and fixed her jeans with a bit of haste. Joey did the same before he sat up again right as she came back towards them.

“I've just got a hair on my tongue,” he explained to the woman, and Sam shook her head at that as she picked up her courier bag from the carpet. She paid no attention to what he was doing right then.

“We're alright, I promise,” Sam assured her as she held onto Joey's arm and led him back out of there, right as they met up with Belinda and Testament once again.

“What the hell was going on in there?” Eric demanded, and Chuck burst laughing when he saw Joey.

Sam finally turned around for a better look at him and the blush over his face and his tongue hanging out from his mouth like a dog.

“We're a thirsty boy,” she joked to them in a low voice, and Greg yelped out at that. Joey shook his head and blushed.

The seven of them made their way over to the hotel about a block from the theater, and all the while, he put his hand on her knee and even inside of her thigh. Testament's van remained right before them the whole way there and yet she wished to be in there with them, not because she wanted to get away from Joey but because she wanted to hang out with them some more.

They pulled up to a stoplight and he leaned in closer to her for a kiss on her neck. She returned the favor with a kiss on his lips and her hands on either side of his face.

He blinked several times once he pulled back from her and lunged ahead on the vast main road.

They climbed out of the car together—how Sam missed the humid lush feeling of upstate! But no sooner had she rounded the back end of the car when she felt his hand fondle up the seat of her pants.

“God, you're horny right now,” she groaned.

“I haven't seen my girl in so long,” he begged to her as he handed her her courier bag, her purse, as well as her travel bag. “I can't touch my girl? Like she has to cock block me?”

“Not in front of the boys,” she insisted; indeed, Testament had gotten out of their van; Belinda joined in from the car behind them as well.

“Besides,” he told her in a low voice, “I've gotta slip into sump'n a li'l more... dare I say, comfortable.” He flashed her a wink when he said that. “Also, Charlie should be up here like any time this evening. He wants you to meet someone.”

Sam raised her eyebrows at that. Now she knew the meaning behind the card Charlie had given her in the rehearsal space that previous time. Joey then leaned back into her face for a hearty kiss on the lips before he climbed back into his car again. Her heart swelled inside of her chest as he gave her a glimpse back and showed her a wink.

Given it was the middle of the last day before the brand new tour, she knew that Joey would be back for the show that following night, and perhaps her as well. She watched him go off when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Greg right behind her with a little smirk on his face.

She turned around for a better look at the five of them plus Belinda.

“I think this hotel here has some billiards, Eric,” she said aloud as she hoisted her purse over her shoulder. The sound of billiards made Alex raise his eyebrows at Sam. She shook her head at that and he snickered.

Since it was the beginning of June there in upstate New York, it wasn't until seven o'clock when the sun began to hang low over the horizon, and when Sam finally called up Ruben to tell him that they had made it there to the East Coast.

“You kids have fun this summer,” he told her.

“Oh, we will,” she vowed as she lifted up her shirt and proceeded to change into something more comfortable herself.

Greg and Alex sat on either side of her at dinner time there in the wide open front lobby: every so often a gust of cool wind blew her black hair back and the bottom of her little low cut black blouse up so both of them could have a view of her belly. It also didn't help matters that she wore little black denim shorts all the while.

Eric and Belinda were still billiards while Louie had gone out there in town and Chuck and Tiffany sat on the far side of the open floor together, right underneath a television suspended on the wall.

Every so often, Greg gave his long dark hair a little toss back with a flick of his head so Sam could see the side of his neck. She never noticed the bit of five o'clock shadow there on his chin and all around his jaw line before. On the other hand, the thought of Joey with a bit of fuzz on his face tickled her a bit.

“Greg, you oughta put your hair up,” Alex suggested.

“Yeah, you'll look all stylish like a model,” Sam joked, which in turn made the both of them laugh out loud.

“I'm getting kinda hot, anyways,” Greg confessed.

“Hot as in thermally?” she asked him as he stood to his feet.

“Hot as in thermally, yeah,” he replied with a straight face, but it only made Alex chuckle. Greg flashed her a wink as he stepped away from their table and headed back inside of the hotel. Alex took one more bite of his chicken alfredo, and then he leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his dark hair followed by the tuft of gray.

“Stick a fork in me, I'm done,” he said, to which Sam picked up her fork and gently poked his belly with the tines. He flinched back which only made her giggle at him. She tried to gently poke him again and he flinched back to the edge of the chair some more. She pictured him being so cute with a bit of weight on his body: he was already on his way with the round shape of his face and those apple shaped cheekbones.

He then stopped. His eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. The warm soft color in his face drained away to that of old drywall. He looked as though he was about to vomit up his dinner right there.

“What?” she asked him, and he pointed across the floor. She turned her head and she looked on at the television screen.

“Tiananmen Square in Beijing,” he said, “a bunch of protests over there from people who want democracy. It's been going on for more than a full month now. They actually declared martial law over there just a couple weeks ago. Look at that guy!”

Her mouth stood agape as they watched a sole man stand in the middle of the street there in Beijing, right before a tank. When the tank moved out of the way of him, he moved to the side. They then both watched him climb up the side of the tank to the top hatch, and they gaped at each other. Alex returned to it and then he brought his hands to his mouth once more.

“Holy shit,” he blurted out; one of the few times Sam had ever heard Alex swear before her.

Thousands of Chinese took to the streets right there before their eyes against a backdrop of smoke and bullets. The crawlers on the top and bottom of the screen all read in Mandarin and given they were across the room, they couldn't hear it, but the horrified look on Alex's face told her everything she needed to know about it.

He shook his head and stood to his feet.

“What's the matter?” she asked him as she followed him outside to the impending darkness. “Alex?”

He bowed his head and hurried away from there: Sam followed right behind him, and then he finally stopped and turned towards her with a look of absolute pain on his face.

“I can't—I can't—that's just—no.”

Even in the darkness, she could see the tears in his eyes. She put her arms around him and held him so close to her.

“I want to help those poor people,” he wept. “They don't need that horse shit! They need to be free!”

“It's okay, Alex,” she told him in a hushed voice. “You do what you can. You do good, too. If it's any comfort at all, that worries me, too.”

He lifted his gaze to her and looked on at her like a lost puppy.

“That is a comfort to me,” he promised her. She pressed her hands to either side of his face and she put her lips to his. “As is that,” he added.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“We're alone again,” she said, and he glanced about the sidewalk.

“Yeah, we are. How appropriate.”

“You wanna hang out?” she offered him.

“Let's,” he replied with a little flutter of his eyelashes.

“You're knockin' me out with those lashes, boy,” she teased him.

“I should knock your ass out right now just for that,” he retorted to her.

“Knock my ass out right now with fuck all below the belt?”

He laughed at that, that big hearty laugh right from deep within his body. He lingered closer to her again.

“You really do what you can, Alex,” she repeated. “I can see you being such a force to be reckoned with in the music world with your voice.”

He showed her a sweet little smile and he lowered his eyelids a little bit. He showed her his tongue as well, as he ran the tip over those soft lips.

He then turned his head and he gestured to the other side of the lot, there of which stood a short alleyway.

“There's a spot right over there,” he told her in a low voice, and they ran across the parking lot, past Testament's van and past Anthrax's bus, both of which had been posted up at the curb. He rounded the corner first; once she joined him there he opened the buttons on his shirt a bit more so as to show off more of his chest to her. She thought back to when they took her to the field they scattered Cliff's ashes, except this time they were about to do it for real. The sole light came from a floodlight at the rim of the parking lot, but the distant glow from it was enough to soften his skin and make him appear fuller and rounder than before; full and round like the moon.

He grimaced at something.

“What's wrong?” she asked him.

“I've got an itch,” he complained.

“Huh?”

“I've got an itch!” A soft rustling sound emerged from the darkness between them.

“Where? I'll scratch it for you.”

“It's—It's—It's?” He chuckled at that. “It's—on my—I dunno if you know about any of this because you're a woman and whatnot—there's like this little tent that forms over the crotch of a guy's jeans when he sits for too long. The itch is literally right on my crotch.”

“Again, I'll scratch it for you,” she said.

“You just wanna touch my crotch,” he chided.

“Of course I wanna touch your crotch because it's nice and warm and very soft.”

“Not as soft as my ass, I would assume,” he teased her.

“Your ass is like a little pillow, Alex,” she retorted. “You know what else is like a little pillow is your tummy.”

“Eating so many ginger snaps,” he teased her as he patted his stomach. “Too many in fact.”

“How's that little vampire bite I gave you holding up, by the way?”

He lifted up his shirt and showed her that red mark the size of a dime right next to his belly button. His milky skin seemed to glow under the soft light behind him, and it glowed bright enough for her to see the mark for herself.

“Like a little branding of sorts,” he joked, and she giggled at that. To think it wasn't that long ago she and him didn't like each other that much. She put her arms up on his shoulders and he leaned back against the wall. She moved her face up to his and he parted his lips for her. The dim light softened his face, and those deep eyes, and that plume of gray over the right side of his brow: she still owed an encounter with Greg at some point during that tour, but for the time being she needed to be with Alex. She ran her fingers through his inky black hair and he tilted his head back a bit to show her his neck.

“C'mere, baby,” she whispered to him. “Come to mama, baby.”

“I'll come right here and right now,” he whispered back to her. “Just undo my pants for me 'cause they're a bit tight.”

She undid the button with both hands and then she reached down the front there. He was firming up but he needed a little bit of help.

Joey was actually down on the floor for her.

Alex meanwhile had his back to the wall for her.

“Yeah, just like that,” he breathed as her fingers caressed over his skin. “Yeah—Yeah—it's like squeezing a tube.” He gasped when she touched him a little bit too hard, but it brought a devilish smirk to her face.

“Harder?” she teased him.

“Harder—come on, you can do better than that. I know you can.”

“I want you on your back,” she commanded him; at the same time that was all she could think of with him. Something about his round face and those deep eyes whereby she wanted to see him down on the ground, splayed wide open all for her. “I want you on your back and I want you to beg for mercy.”

“Can't really lie down, though,” he whimpered as she touched him with a bit more pressure.

“I want to give it to you, though,” she said.

“Give it good and hard?”

“Extra hard. I know you like a little pain, baby.”

“I'm a bad boy and I need a good bit of punishing.”

“I'll punish you, alright,” she retorted back to him. It was as if they were ricocheting off of each other.

Alex's lanky fingers slithered down to the waist of her shorts and he yanked them off a bit. She undid the button on her shorts and she let them slide down her legs. Even in the darkness she could feel him right there right before her.

“I wanna know how you taste,” he whispered.

“Where?”

“You know. The place where the sugar bleeds out.”

“Oh, there. It might be hard to do that standing up, though.”

“I don't think so,” he whispered, and he dropped down from her face and down to her waist. She never went this far with Cliff before and thus to feel this right before her was almost alien to her. She could feel him taking off her underwear. She spread her legs a bit to help him out with it.

The feel of his tongue there sent a shiver up her spine.

“I think it's—it's—” he breathed. “This is like ten ginger snaps.”

He tickled her with his tongue. She could feel him going up inside of her with nothing more than that tongue. He slithered about like a hearty snake.

He then gasped for air and she shuddered from the feeling at the base of her spine.

“Whoa,” he groaned out.

“Yeah, you were digging deep there,” she sputtered: she was warm as a smoldering fire below the belt. Her nipples hardened on the inside of her bra.

“I want you to make me a mess,” he begged her. “I want you to do it, Samantha!”

He opened the rest of the buttons on his shirt for her and she put her arms around him. She thought back to when he was a sixteen year old boy and she had that fleeting thought about kissing him. She could do it for real at that point.

“Yeah, you like that, don't ya, big boy?” she breathed into his lips. She held back into an upright position and she gazed straight into those deep eyes right before her face.

It was like shedding skin with him. Even though she never saw anyone like that before, she did feel it within her with Alex right underneath her. She kept her knees on either side of his hips. It was just like Chuck, except she was really there for real that time around.

His back to the wall and her hands on his shoulders.

They stared right into each other's eyes as she ground down on him.

“You can go faster, you know,” he said without batting a lash.

So she did. He pressed his hands down on the wall behind him.

She held onto his shoulders a bit harder so she could go faster and harder on him.

A long time coming.

“Mmm—yeah, that's it right there,” Alex stammered. “Right there!” He closed his eyes and relished in the feeling between his thighs.

“Like that?” She thrust a little extra hard on him and he gasped again.

“Yes!”

“Like that!”

“Yes!”

“Like that!”

“YES!”

“LIKE THAT!”

“YES! EVERYTHING WITH A BITTA HUTZPAH RIGHT ON MY FAT ASS YES!”

She lifted off of him right as he came for her: as if she knew he was about to come right there. Out of breath, Alex's knees buckled and he slid down the wall a bit. Sam could feel something trickling down the inside of her legs.

“You're bleeding, my mistress,” he said in a broken voice. His bare chest heaved and he flashed her a shaky thumbs up. “I—I—that was everything I could've asked for...” He let out a whistle while she pulled up her panties and her shorts. She had a couple of pads in her purse back in the room, which meant she had to run back there with her legs together.

“Fuck me,” he breathed out.

“Okay!” Sam declared, and he burst out laughing at that, and then he followed it up with a soft moan from his throat. She stooped down for a better look into his face.

“D'you like that, baby?” she whispered. His knees quivered a bit as he stood back up to his feet; she caught him before he lost his balance.

“That was everything I ever imagined,” he said, still out of breath.

“Mmm—baby.” She put her arms around his waist.

“No one can ever know about us,” he said in a low voice, and she looked right into his round face and those eyes. He had never been so soft before. She had him right in the palm of her hand like a handful of jelly. She gave him another kiss right on the lips, albeit one that was quite a bit longer that time around. She slid her hand down his stomach, still very soft despite having slimmed down with time. Silky soft and very sweet, just how she liked him.

“Not a single soul, baby,” she breathed into his parted lips.

She bowed her a bit which in turn accentuated the sharpness of her brow to him, and through the dim light he showed her an exhausted little smile. And yet his eyes burned into her like the cherries on the ends of cigarettes.

She kept her legs pressed together as she headed back to her room for a shower and a fresh change into her clothes. Even though it was still early, she was ready for bed by the time Belinda returned to the room a bit tipsy; she dared not explain to her the blood on her underwear or why there was a few little specks on the bathtub there, and she could only say that it was nothing more than paint.

She went to bed early that night and woke up early the next morning, mainly from the sore feeling between her legs but also from the fact that she had gone to bed early that evening. She padded into the bathroom, and as she ran her hair brush through her dark hair, she looked on at the full figured woman in the mirror in front of her.

“Those two men are just something else,” she muttered as she shook her head. Even after she vowed to Alex that she would keep the whole thing a secret betweent the two of them, she knew that her clothes still smelled like both him and Joey. She picked up that low cut black blouse she wore on that first day there in upstate New York

“Bastards—both of them,” she said as she shook her head.

The spot between her legs was going to be sore from where she and Joey did it together, which in turn felt even more sore courtesy of Alex. But she dared not tell anyone about either encounter as she headed downstairs to fetch two cups of coffee and two plates of breakfast for both her and Belinda.

Alex was already up himself: he stood there before the buffet table with an empty plate in hand. When no one was looking, she reached down and slapped him right on the seat of his pants, to which he lurched forward. He turned around with a bewildered look on his face and then he flashed her a little grin.

“Yeah, you better take it easy on them ginger snaps, Alejandro,” she teased him, “if not a belly, you're starting to get a bit of junk in the trunk.”

“I've got junk in my trunk? What about junk on my junk?”

“Shhhh!”

She peered over her shoulder to ensure no one wasn't eavesdropping on them.

“I'll put a bit of junk on your junk soon enough,” she vowed to him in a husky voice, and he giggled at that.

“Sam!” Charlie's voice sailed from across the room.

“More on that later, baby,” she promised Alex in a soft whisper right into his ear. She bowed over to the other side of the room where Charlie sat across from a strange woman.

“Sam, this is Scarlett Valentine,” he introduced her, “—the artsy woman I was telling you about whom I introduced Marla to and almost singlehandedly got her foot in the door in the art scene.”

“Not quite,” Scarlett assured him in a big Queens accent much like Scott, “Marla still has to find a place to set up her works first. I also wouldn't say singlehandedly, either, as I had a bit of help, too.”

“Oh, so you're Scarlett!” Sam declared.

“That I am.” She showed her a friendly warm smile and a little glimmer in her eyes. She had a short straight bob of platinum blonde hair which fit her heart shaped face so she resembled to a queen of hearts, and she wore a smart dark red bathrobe over her pajamas.

“I'd have to go back up to my room to fetch you my journal, though,” Sam told her with a shrug.

“That's okay,” Scarlett assured her. “Charlie was just about to get the both of us a cup of coffee each.” Charlie himself shrugged and blushed from the attention on him.

Even with her legs sore, Sam still bowed back up to her room for her journal. Each step made her heart pound faster and faster in her chest. It was really happening: someone who had a lead in the New York art scene could perhaps help her out.

Soon, she returned to the lobby.

It almost felt as though she was about to display herself naked in front of an audience as she opened the journal to that drawing of Medusa. Charlie gaped at the sight of it where Scarlett examined those fine lines and those bright colors as if she inspected buried treasure.

“What do you think?” Sam asked her.

“This is brilliant,” she breathed, “utterly beautiful—just takes my breath away.” She sat upright so she had a bit of distance between herself and the page. “Very unique style, too, like it stands out from a mile away.”

She turned to Sam with a twinkle in her eye.

“You are going to be the next big thing in the art scene, Miss Shelley,” she said, and the excited smile crossed her face all the while. “In New York and maybe elsewhere as well.

“You sure about that?” Sam asked her, to which Scarlett nodded; she never imagined anyone using those words on her before, let alone someone whom she had just met through Charlie.

“What did Frankie and I tell you when we first met?” he recalled as he took a sip of coffee.

[soft-thrills]

XF Fic: Too Much, Just Right

I fear that if I don’t post this now, I may never post it.

Summary: Mulder/Scully smut. Dom Mulder. NC-17. Classic PWP. Mulder and Scully get kinky on a vacation to Big Sur. That’s it, that’s the plot. It’s embarrassingly long, what else is new.

It satisfies two prompts from the Dec ‘18/Jan’19 @xfpornbattle​, which, LOL, could I be any slower?

Those prompts are:

Dom Mulder draped over Scully's back, pounding into her and whispering the dirtiest things in her ear while playing with her clit. Bonus if there are people nearby.

and:

Dom Mulder blowjob, slapping Scully's cheeks with his dick while she touches herself

I reserve the right to revisit this setting, by the way, because Big Sur is the most surreal landscape I’ve ever visited, and it’s a BIG Mulder/Scully mood.

If I’ve not scared you off, keep reading, friends. Unbeta’ed. Sorry for the typos or tense slips. I tried to catch ‘em all. If you like it, hate it, it makes you feel something, anything, please let me know.

He books them a cabin in a redwood grove on the California coast. Their cell phones lose reception as they begin the winding drive through Big Sur, dramatic scenery seemingly all around them — jagged cliffs and primal, roaring ocean waves on one side; mountains and thick forest on the other. It feels like the edge of the universe. 

They are in a rented Jeep, with the top taken off, and Mulder had popped The Beach Boy’s Pet Sounds — somehow at once upbeat and melancholy, not unlike him — into the CD player.

They are relaxed, happy. Blessedly alone.

“No shared apartment walls out here, Scully,” he says, his voice dark and low, the way it always sounds in the evenings when he takes charge.

His hand lands on her thigh and she jumps. He smirks. She feels off balance — the rush of the wind around the Jeep, Brian Wilson’s voice, the sheer edges and the blue sky — and it feels good. 

“No neighbors. I’m going to have so much fun making you scream,” he promises. “Just you and me in the middle of nowhere.”

...So he hadn’t realized there would be another cabin about 20 feet away from theirs, occupied by a friendly couple in their twenties who wave when they pull up, just as the sun is setting. She shoots him a trademark raised eyebrow. 

“All alone in the middle of nowhere, huh?” 

In the end, it works out. Ed and Mary are lovely, and they spend the evening sitting around a fire pit between the two cabins, sharing a cache of West Coast IPAs, pinot noir and marshmallows. Sadly, Mulder and Scully have to politely turn down the couple’s generous offer to enjoy some fine California Gold marijuana, what with the federal employment and all. 

A couple hours later, it is well and truly dark. Scully knows from past trips out to Big Sur when she was young that the sky is full of stars, though they can’t see it from their vantage point beneath the thick canopy of redwoods. She feels warm from the fire and the drinks and the easy camaraderie. She feels happy, relaxed, far from her responsibilities. 

“Ready to hit the hay, Scully?” Mulder asks, a voice so sweet she’d almost forgotten the mood he’d been in earlier. 

Almost.

She felt warm all over again.

“Yeah, if we want to get up early tomorrow and hike, I suppose we’d better.” 

And so they say goodnight to Ed and Mary, who say they’d be outside a little while longer, making sure the fire safely dies down. Very responsible. 

The cabin is small but well appointed — for once it really is a nice trip to the forest. It has sliding glass doors, and once they were inside, Mulder drew the curtains almost all the way. Almost. It would be unlikely Ed or Mary could see anything from their vantage point, but not entirely impossible if they ventured out of the clearing. The walls are thin enough that she can hear Mary laughing at something Ed said outside.  

“Guess it would be a little rude to make you scream, Scully,” he says, and she jumps, because Mulder’s low voice is right against her ear, and she hadn’t even realized he was behind her.

“I guess so,” she says, not happy about how shaky her voice is already.

“Maybe I’ll just have to settle for making you whimper. Making you beg. Making you moan.”

She could settle for that. Doesn’t really feel like settling at all, actually.

“And maybe, Scully, if you’re very good, and you promise not to make too much noise, maybe I will let you come.”

She watches her own chest rise and fall, listens to the sound of her own breath. He is so annoyingly, wonderfully good at this. It was hard, at first, for her to accept that she liked it — that bossy Dana Scully liked being bossed around in bed. She supposes it’s not particularly shocking. It might even be predictable. It took Mulder next to no time to figure out, brilliant profiler and whatnot.  But it’s still hard to be vulnerable with someone when you want them to treat you as an equal in a relationship. Harder still when you also work with that someone in an environment where it is imperative that they treat you as an equal.

Needless to say, she got over it.

“Would you like that, Scully? Would you like me to make you beg?” he asks, running his hands up her sides, and she can’t help but shiver.

“Yes.”

“Take your clothes off,” he says, not a whisper anymore, and his voice is enough to make her jump.

He stalks out from behind her as she sheds the fleece jacket she’d worn to keep warm by the fire, then her t-shirt, then her jeans.

“Stop,” he says, when she was down to her underwear and bra, simple but matching black cotton.

He kisses her, hands in her hair, like he’d been waiting to do it since he’d made his now-amended promise back in the Jeep all those hours ago. A needy sound escapes from the back of her throat, and she can’t tell if she’s squirming because of embarrassment or desire but she’s pretty sure it’s both.

She is out of breath when he pulls away. 

“You’re so beautiful, Scully. You’re perfect,” he says, and while she doesn’t think of herself that way, in that moment, she believes him.

“I want to make you deliriously happy,” he tells her.

She leans into his chest as he strokes her hair.

“But first,” his voice drops again, his hand goes from stroking to gripping the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling back so she looks up at him. “You’re going to suck my cock.”

He is good at that — setting her at ease with sweet little touches and then jolting her back into their kinky little game — and she is a real sucker for it. 

She glances in the direction of the bed, but he shakes his head. She feels herself get hotter. He pulls a pillow off the bed and places it in front of him. She knows what he wants, but she wants to hear him tell her.

“On your knees, Scully.”

She’s always been good at following directions. When she is settled, he unbuttons his fly. He takes his cock in hand, but instead of pressing it against her lips, he rubs it against her cheek. She feels herself blush and then he gently taps it against her cheek, and then a little harder, and that’s something new and Christ, it’s almost too much, which means it makes her wet.

“Does sucking my cock turn you on?” 

She silently curses him for expecting her to speak in this condition. “Yes. Please,” she says, although she’s not entirely sure what she’s asking him for.

He slaps his dick against her cheek again and she squeezes her legs together. Too much. But God, she likes it. 

“You can play with yourself,” he says. Of course she can, she is a grown woman, and she can do whatever she likes to her own body… and yet on this evening, in this mood, she wouldn’t dream of it without Mulder’s permission.

He puts his cock in her mouth, and she takes him up on his offer, slipping her hands inside her panties and finding herself predictably wet.

She takes him as deep as she can, concentrating until she gets into a rhythm, then looking up at him and making eye contact. He groans, and she’d smirk if she could.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this, Scully,” he mutters. “Been thinking about sliding into your mouth since I started teasing you in the Jeep. I could barely concentrate out by the fire, I wanted you so bad.”

She moves the busy fingers under her underwear a little faster, and he notices. 

“It makes you wet to have my dick in your mouth, huh?” 

She moans around his cock. Too much. Just right. 

Kinky sex with Mulder never fails to remind her what a good interrogator he is. He is constantly talking to her, asking her to react, asking her to admit her secrets — yes, I want you to make me beg, yes, I want to suck your cock, yes, I like having your dick in my mouth. It is a temporarily lopsided power dynamic — there is no doubt that Mulder is in charge right now — but there’s rarely any sense of force. She wants every filthy thing he does to her, and he makes her tell him that. 

It is overwhelming to be the object of his intense focus, his questioning, his curiosity. At first it was terrifying how little she could hide from him. It is still a little scary — in an exciting, pulse-quickening way that reminds her why she turned in her stethoscope for a gun. It’s also oddly comforting: She doesn’t have to hide, or pretend, with Mulder. She just has to be herself, strange quirks and kinks and all. He could see through any pretending she could try.

She takes him a little deeper, deep enough that it makes her eyes water. A gentle thumb wipes away a tear that had formed at the edge of her eye. She looks up into his eyes and when he smiles at her, she nearly melts. 

“Hands where I can see them, now, Scully,” he says, and she reluctantly stops touching herself. 

Mulder withdraws from her mouth a moment later, and helps her to her feet. He steps out of his jeans, then pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

“Did you enjoy that, Scully?”

That he calls her by her last name, even now, as she wipes the corner of her lips, it’s somehow a thousand times more intimate than if he’d used her first name. It’s like he sees right through whatever walls she might want to build, flimsier than the walls of this cabin, outside of which the fire is still burning as Ed and Mary keep talking.

“Yes,” she says simply, finally, answering his question. Then she flicks her eyes at his erection. “I could feel that you enjoyed it as well.”

Despite how much she likes it when he’s in charge, she can’t help but try to claw back a little pride.

“Of course I liked it,” he says, pulling her close against his erection. “What’s not to like about my buttoned-up partner getting on her knees to take my cock down her throat while she plays with herself?”

She moans -- an embarrassing, unintended, not very quiet moan. 

“What did I tell you about being quiet, Scully?” he teases, followed by a sharp swat on her ass. 

Too much. Just right.

“I can’t help it,” she whines, a whisper.

“Well you’d better try, if you want me to let you come.”

On any other evening she’d laugh. She’d scoff at the idea that anyone could *let* her do anything. But it isn’t any other evening and she’s ready to dissolve into a puddle at his feet and so she bites her lip and she nods like a --

“Good girl,” he says.

When she is back in her right mind she is going to murder him. Or buy him breakfast. She can’t really be sure. 

He shoves her -- shoves her! -- onto the cabin’s king size bed, which takes up most of the small space. Her pulse is racing. 

Scully knows, rationally, that there are lots of reasons people like any manner of kinky sex -- the trust, the intimacy, the letting go of responsibility, all of those things are appealing to her. But she thinks the biggest draw is the sheer thrill. She doesn’t know what Mulder will do next. She is a little afraid but terribly excited, the way she is as a roller coaster cranks its way up a hill, or when her heels click on the pavement as she chases a suspect. She slinks backward on the mattress, away from him, back up against the headboard, even as all she wants is his touch. 

He slips out of his boxers. 

“Where ya going, Scully?” he asks, all boyish charm and wolflike grin. He yanks one leg, hard, pulling her down the bed until she’s flat on her back again. 

“Mulder, please, I --” and she stops, because she doesn’t even know what to say.

“You looked very pretty with my cock in your mouth, Scully. Would you like me to touch you? I haven’t yet, have I? Touched your pussy, I mean,” he says, marking that last bit with a firm squeeze of her left breast.

“No,” she replies.

“No, you don’t want me to touch you?”

“Oh, god, please touch me. You haven’t, but please,” she begs, and it’s embarrassing to beg, but it’s also hot, and it’s also all she can do, because if Mulder doesn’t touch her soon she’s going to lose her mind. 

He slides her underwear, embarrassingly wet, down her legs, his fingernails scraping their way. 

“Turn over,” he says.

She does, arching her ass up almost unconsciously. He gives it a playful smack and she moans.

“What do you want?” he asks her, drawing his penis up and down her labia, teasing.

“I want you to touch my clit,” she says.

He waits. She waits. 

“No,” he says, the only real warning she gets before he slides his cock inside her, to the hilt. 

She cries out -- and his hand covers her mouth.

“What did I tell you about being quiet?” he growls.

The feeling of him inside her -- hot and hard and so big -- is overwhelming. But she knows she won’t come without his fingers on her clit, and so does he. He’s going to keep teasing her. 

He moves his hand away from her mouth. She’s prone on her stomach and he’s draped over her, all over her. His lips are against her ear.

“Are you going to be quiet for me, Scully?” he asks her.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Good,” he says. “We wouldn’t want our friends outside to hear what a little slut you are, now would we?”

Too much. Just right. She whimpers, muffling the sound into the mattress beneath her. 

“I bet you’d like to rub your clit right now, wouldn’t you?” he asks her.

“Yes, please,” she says.

“But you’re not -- why aren’t you touching yourself?” he asks.

She squirms, just another subject of his interrogations, just as helpless against his probing questions as any of them have ever been. 

“Because you haven’t let me,” she admits. “You haven’t given me permission.”

“That’s right, and I’m in charge, aren’t I?”

She has heard Mulder’s voice crack like a whip. She has heard him bellow, heard him snarl, heard him command a room of men with just his words.

But this — this rough, ragged whisper, so close to her ear she feels it more than she hears it — it’s so unbearably intimate, so unnerving. It reverberates to her very core.

“Yes,” she admits. “You’re in charge. Please.”

“Please what, Scully?” he asks, as he slams into her. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Yes,” she breathes. And then: “No. I want you to touch me. Please.”

“That’s my girl,” he says. 

Before she knows it, two fingers are working her clit in tight little circles as he pounds into her. In another moment she might envy his athleticism, be impressed by his coordination. But all she can do right now is moan into the pillow beneath her, overwhelmed, overloaded. 

Too much, just right. 

“I told you to be quiet, but you just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks.

She assumes all he can hear is a moan, but what she’s muttering into the pillow is: “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“I like it when you can’t control yourself, Scully,” he mutters. “Because even if you can’t -- I can. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes yes, please, please.”

“Come for me,” he says, his voice practically a growl. “Come for me, Scully.” 

She’s so worked up that a few flicks of his wrist is really all it takes for her to tumble over the edge, as sharp and severe as the cliffs they drove past a few hours ago. 

“That’s right” he says, so fucking smug she wants to suffocate him, except she’s busy gasping for air herself. 

She’s coming down as he starts moving faster. She realizes, appreciatively, the amount of self-restrain that was probably necessary for him to focus so singularly on her orgasm. She arches a little higher, moans a little breathier. He deserves it, doesn’t he?

“Give it to me,” she moans, knowing what buttons to press, wanting it to be as good for him as it was for her. “Please, Mulder.”

A moment later he spills into her, collapsing on her back, overwhelming her, surrounding her in the best possible way.

For a moment they both just lie there, flattened, useless, happy, sated people. Scully feels empty in a good way, a way she rarely feels. Divorced from her worries, from her expectations. Elated. 

He slips out of her, slides to her side and spoons against her. 

“God, I love you, Scully,” he murmurs into her shoulder. 

“I love you too, Mulder,” she says, pressing back against him.

“I hope I wasn’t --”

“Stop. It was perfect,” she sighs. 

A beat.

“But I hope we don’t run into Ed or Mary tomorrow.”

[cellophanejpeg]

dancing with our hands tied || pt. i

Pairing: Marcus Pike x female!reader

Summary: Marcus is your boss and you really enjoy working with him. But a work trip to the west coast makes him visit the past and you realize not only you like him, but you’re deeply in love with him. The only problem is that you both work together and it would never work. Or so you think.

a/n: so basically i had to split this bad boy in two cause i was writing a whole damn the mentalist episode. all you need to know is: i know nothing about how the FBI works or how crimes are solved, so i made it all up. deeply sorry if i offend any fbi agents that could be here?? if you don’t watch the mentalist, basically patrick jane is an asshole that can read people’s body language and points them out in public. that’s really all you need to know, it’s a dumb show tbh. also, this contains detective work and law enforcement, which, during times like this, i would understand if you don’t want to read this. don’t forget to donate to the black lives matter movement and sign petitions against police brutality. i’ve reblogged a variety of posts with link for donations and petitions, they're under the tag #blm resources.

Warnings: mutual pining, some angst, a pinch of fake dating

Word count: 6.7k (and there’s more coming)

part ii | MASTERLIST

The badge around your neck swings as you run and you have to hold it in place. The streets of L.A. are full of curious eyes, gathered behind the yellow tape; you check your phone one more time and sigh. No messages, no missing calls. It’s not like him, you know something’s up.

When you show your ID to the police officer that’s in charge of controlling the people, he lets you duck under the tape and approach the other agents already in the scene. You exhale, panting from your run as you introduce yourself.

“I’m with the FBI,” You tell them after stating your name. They all eye you like you’re from another dimension.

“What’s the FBI’s interest in all this?” Asks a red haired agent whose name you don’t know.

You take a look at the corpse on the ground. “‘Cause this is our guy.”

Crouching next to the lifeless body, you take a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of your jacket and put them on; with gentle fingers you tilt the dead’s head sideways so you can look for a specific mark behind his ear.

"Yep," You tilt the man's head for everyone to see a burning scar on the shape of an eye. "The Crystal Eyes gang.” You take the man’s hand to show the pinky finger ring the gang members wear, but it’s missing. Furrowing your brows you notice the tan line on his finger, where the ring should be.

The only man who actually smiles at your statement is the blond, blue-eyed guy. The rest of the agents sigh and roll her eyes, and you frown already irritated. First, your partner doesn’t show to a crime scene of a case he’s the head of, then these CBI agents are clearly not your fans.

The woman who seemed to be the boss rolls her eyes at the man and looks at your direction. Her blue eyes darting to you with anger and you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or the man with the arrogant smile. When she speaks, her voice is demanding, like she’s also your boss. “Are you leading this case on your own? Where is your partner?”

It takes everything in you not to tell her to fuck off. “He’s–” You swallow. “Coming.” You stand, looking away as you take off the gloves and discard them. Taking another look at your phone, you sigh in disappointment when you see nothing. Fucking hell, he’s not coming. What an idiot. “So, this guy’s name is–”

“You’re lying.” A voice interrupted you. It’s the man with the arrogant smile. “He’s not coming, is he?” You watch the way he smiles at you. “You keep checking your phone and the way you looked away when you talked tells us you’re either waiting for someone’s call or you’re checking to see if something happened to him.”

Fuck. How does he know all that? Were you that transparent or are you just a bad liar?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” You ask him, shoving your hands in the pockets of your FBI jacket.

“Jane.” He smiles, showing you an ID card that has a picture of him above the name ‘Patrick Jane’. “Consultant.”

Nodding slowly, you frown at him. “Jane.” You tilt your head as you speak. “He’s coming, don’t worry. If he doesn’t arrive, he must have a great, great excuse for his absence. Either way it doesn’t concern you. What you do need to know is that him and I are after this gang for about a year now, and this is the first lead we have in three months. We’re more than capable of handling this.”

“Clearly not, if your partner is not even here,” The boss says. You exhale sharply. You were going to kill your partner.

“Listen, Agent…”

“Lisbon.”

“Agent Lisbon,” You repeat her name. “I know it’s hard to see a case being taken from your team, and I’m sorry about this, but– You gotta let me do my job.”

Lisbon sighs, crossing her arms “What do they do? The gang. Do they sell drugs? They kill people? Maybe there’s something we can help you with.”

“Well, I’m with the art squad so…” You pause. “They steal art.”

You watch as all the agents look at their boss and an awkward silence tenses the air. Lisbon widen her eyes and then looks away from you, clearing her throat. It’s like their own unspoken thing.

“Art?” Patrick says, amused. “From where?”

The way he says it makes it look like a joke and you’re not sure if he’s mocking you or not.

“Art galleries, museums, you pick.” You shrug, crossing your arms in a defensive manner. “They see a place with an expensive art piece? They steal. It could even be a rich man’s living room. When it comes to Crystal Eyes, they don’t give a fuck.”

Silence hangs in the air and you could hear a pin drop, even out here in the open. Finally, red haired woman, Van Pelt clears her throat, alleviating a bit of the tension you still don’t know why it’s there.

“And, uh–” She swallows. “These robberies involve killing other people or…?”

“No, they usually use a stealth strategy.” You almost sigh, relieved for the broken silence. “Although, one time, they killed an old man at his own mansion when the robbery didn’t go as planned. I don’t believe this an accident, though.”

“Interesting,” Jane mumbled. “Hey, do you happen to know an Agent–”

“We’re done here!” Lisbon interrupts him and starts walking away. You watch her give him a look only a wife would give to her husband. Quickly glancing at their hands, you notice they use the same ring on the same finger.

Of course they’re married.

Lisbon says your name, getting your attention again and nods at you. “He’s all yours. Have fun.”

And with that, her and her team walk away from the scene. Sighing, you check your phone one last time. Still, no messages, no missing calls, not even a text. Nothing. Gritting your teeth, you shake your head.

“Godammint, Pike.”

…

You and your team had been in California literally for half a day before the call for the dead guy came in. It’s the first lead you all have on this gang in three months, so as soon as one of the informants let you know one of the leader were in L.A., you all flew to the west coast and based yourselves in one of the FBI quarters.

As soon as you walk in the big room, you see Marcus’ sitting at his desk, typing something on a computer that looks like it hasn’t been used since the 90’s.

“Pike!” You exclaim, getting his attention. His face changes from focused, to confused, to a tired look in a matter of seconds. Strolling towards him, you watch as he leans back on his chair. “Three years I’ve been working with you and you’ve never pulled a stunt like this!” You slam your hand on his desk, making everyone around you jump, except from him. “If you wanted me to look like an idiot in front of the CBI guys, well, you did it!”

He raises his hands in defense and says your name, the low baritone of his voice is enough to send shivers down your spine, but not right now. Not today, when you’re angry at him like this.

“Oh, please, do tell,” You grunt, shifting the weight of your body to one leg as you cross your arms. “I’m eager to know why you didn’t show in such an important crime scene, leaving me alone to deal with them.”

Marcus gaped at you for a second and then sighed softly. “I got stuck in the traffic.”

You roll your eyes. “Bullshit. I was miles away and managed to get there before forensics.”

He stared at you for a moment and then sighed. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Well, let this be the first and last time.” You warned him, pointing a finger to him.

“May I remind you I’m your boss, Agent?” He gives you a teasing smile, leaning back on the chair.

You sigh shaking your head. “Yeah, you seem to forget that sometimes.”

His eyes left yours and you felt a pang of sorrow for him, not knowing exactly why. You and Marcus have always had a love-hate relationship. Even though he's technically your boss, you've always treated him like equal. Yelling at him in front of colleagues wasn't a new thing, and to be honest, he’s already used to it. Shaking your head, you stroll over to the furthest desk and sit down, claiming the spot as yours for the time you stay in L.A.

Marcus Pike is an excellent agent. He’s dedicated and hardworking and a damn good boss. The man was born to lead, the passion he has for his job impresses you. Ever since you’ve joined the squad, you’ve been assigned with him as your partner. Back then, everyone told you how lucky you were to be working beside him. Three years later, you still feel lucky to work to have him as your partner. Just not today.

Needless to say, you have a mild crush on him. When you first met him, your first thought was that he was incredibly handsome. And then you were gradually being acquainted with his work style, with the way he worked hard, so your feelings for him just grew stronger over the time. You’ve become closer him over the course of the years and you know him just as well as he knows you. Which is why you just snapped at him. He’d never allow such thing if any other member of the squad talked to him like you did.

Little do you know that Marcus is harvesting a crush on you too. It’s been a while since the feelings had started to make its way to his heart. He’s not sure when it started, but he knows it’s there. He feels it every time you smile and laugh at one of his jokes. He feels it every time you come up with a lead, every time you arrest a criminal. He feels it when he sees you wearing the FBI jacket, looking so pretty with your hair in a low bun or in a ponytail. Hell, he feels it when you’re mad at him.

Marcus glances at you, from his claimed desk and sees you looking at the computer screen, forehead creased in concentration as you filled in the report from the crime scene. Sighing, he looks back at his own computer, feeling his heart sink. Three years you’ve been working together and not once you showed up with a boyfriend. Claiming your job was more important to you at the moment, you just stated that you have no time for relationships. You want to focus on your career, make a name for yourself.

Which is why you and him would never work.

The clock ticked slowly that morning as you all put the leads together to find out who killed the man of the gang. His name was Liam Dixon and he had a big name in the gang, his picture pinned on the cork board from your office back in New York for months. And now, he just drops dead. During a briefing, someone suggested it might have been an accident, a mugging that went wrong, but you know it’s more than that. Saying that the only thing that has been missing from the body was the ring, you argued that it could be either personal or a gang conflict that went wrong. Marcus agreed with you. The orientation he gave everyone is look into police calls for stolen art recently in L.A. That way, you can all have a hint where the gang is acting.

When lunch time arrives, you sigh as you check your phone and stand from your desk. Organizing your desk, you pick up the post-it notes and empty coffee cups and throw them in the trash, when you see a figure approaching you.

“Let me make it up to you,” Pike says, leaning his hand on your desk. “I know a good place where we can have lunch.”

…

Going on lunch breaks with him isn’t unfamiliar to you, but you’re still upset at him, so you order a salad and eat in silence as he eats his own meal too.

“How was the crime scene?” He tries to make conversation.

“You’d know if you were there.” The words come out too fast from your lips and you quickly shoot him an apologetic look.

“You’re still upset?”

Waving a hand at him, you shook your head. “I’m just being petty.” You swallow your food. “The scene was packed, lot of curious eyes. I got there and the CBI guys were in the scene.”

He nods, considering his next words. “Is Patrick Jane still a part of the CBI team?”

“The consultant?” Your voice gives a hint of surprise. “Yeah, he was there. Kinda weird guy if you ask me.”

Pike laughs softly, shaking his head. “Don’t let your guard down near him. He’ll read you like an open book.”

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of your water, eyeing him.

“He’s… Very observant,” He explains. “He’s good at reading people and he has no filter. If something is bothering you, he will let everyone know.”

“Huh.” You smile. “What a weirdo.”

Silence hangs in the air as you both eat. A comfortable silence, a good one.

“Did you meet Lisbon?” He asks, suddenly.

Frowning at him, you nod, biting a piece of broccoli. “Yeah, do you know her?”

Marcus sighs, drinking the rest of his water. Something in his demeanor tells you he’s… Sad, maybe? His eyelids drop to his plate and his shoulders slump as he hangs his head low. You’ve been coexisting with him long enough to tell he’s not okay. Then, a thought occurs to you.

“She’s the ex, isn’t she?” You ask, quietly. He looks up at her and nods, his expression changing, covering the trace of sadness from his face.

Marcus had told you about an ex who left him for another man during one of your stakeouts together. It broke your heart to know that a man like him, so sweet and hardworking, was left twice by women who didn’t appreciate him. You told him that they it was their loss and, after he laughed at your corny attempt at comforting him, you said that if they didn’t leave him, you’ve had never met him. That night, he looked at you like you were the light of his life. Every time you remember, you feel butterflies on your stomach and smile to yourself.

It was nearly two years ago.

And it’s not like Marcus is not over Lisbon, after all it’s been five years since the breakup. But he’s still not ready to face her. Not again. Not after the last time he saw her with Jane and felt his heart bleed. He just doesn’t want to get hurt again.

“How is–” He clears his throat. “How is she?”

“Fat.” You shake your head, grimacing at him. “Her hair was all over the place, pimples on her skin, bad breath, lettuce on her teeth–”

Marcus lets out a laugh, shaking his head. It’s the kind of laugh that makes him throw his head back and wrinkle the corner of his eyes, and, god, his smile is beautiful. He laughs genuinely and you know that, because you've heard it before. You hear it when you are in stakeouts together and you'd crack a joke he'd really liked. You hear it in birthday parties of the members of the squad, when he’s tipsy and drunk happy. You hear it when you make your snarky remarks at the perks you arrest. You could watch him laugh for hours and you would never get tired of the view, of the sound of it. It makes your stomach churn with pleasure to know that you’re the one who provoked this laugh on him. As he wipes the corners of his eyes, you smile at him, laughing softly.

“Nice try, but–” He laughs. “Thanks.”

You just shrug, shaking your head. “Is that why you didn’t go to the crime scene?”

Pike’s smile fades away and you regret the question when you see the expression he gives you. Something tells you to take it back, to apologize and leave it like that, but if he didn’t want to face her… Then, maybe, he still has feelings for her. And the thought, somehow, hurts you.

“Yeah, I, uh–” He swallows. “I don’t think I’m ready to face her again.”

“Oh.” Is all you say.

After finishing your lunch, you both pay the bill and leave the restaurant. The thick, awkward silence grows heavy between the two of you as you both walk together back to the quarters. You want to speak, but you don’t know how to comfort him, how to make him feel better. And then a different voice calls his name.

“Marcus?”

You both stop walking and turn around. Lisbon and Jane, hands laced together, are staring at the both of you. Marcus’s heart almost stop at the sight, his breath get caught on his throat as he widens his eyes.

“Teresa,” He replies, a surprised tone in his voice, eyeing Jane and nodding at him. “Patrick.”

“I see you kept the, uh–” Jane points at his own face to indicate a beard. “The look.”

Marcus nods at him, but doesn’t respond. You nod shortly at Patrick and glance at Lisbon.

“How– How are you?” She asks, looking right into his eyes. A shot of jealousy hits your heart, and you swallow hard trying to push the feeling away.

“Good,” Marcus answer, smiling. “You?”

“Good.” She smiles at him and you have to look away. Pursing your lips, you discreetly take a deep breath and cross your arms.

This woman had Marcus wrapped around her finger and really discarded him when she decided she didn’t want him. She played with his feelings until she got tired and left, not knowing she had a great man who was in love with her and was willing to do anything for her. She doesn’t know how lucky she was for having him. The anger sets in your chest faster than expected as they make small talk, but you don’t listen to them. You can’t, or you’ll explode with anger. It’s Jane’s voice that pulls you out of you thoughts.

“You’re jealous.” His voice is directed to you and both of them stop talking to look at you.

“What?” You frown in confusion.

“Your lips.” He points to his own lips as he talks. “They’re pursed together. You’re crossing your arms to shield yourself, and you have this… Sour expression on your face.”

Widening your eyes, you look at Pike but he’s just as surprised as you are.

“You have feelings for Agent Pike and you’re jealous that he’s giving attention to his ex girlfriend.” Jane smiled triumphant. You gape, feeling your heart speed, and the heat on your cheeks as you look at him surprised. Lisbon shoots a look at Jane as if she’s saying stop reading people without their permission. Your eyes are focused on the ground, knowing that if you look at Pike, it'll be game over.

"Of course she has feelings for me." Pike laughs softly after a short awkward pause. You shoot a look at him, a frown in your brow, confused as hell. "She's my girlfriend."

A silent pause hangs between all of them. Agent Lisbon frowns deeply, widening her eyes to the both of you. Jane's smile fades away. Pike's smile grows wider. And you… You just look at him in shock, thinking about how quickly he thought of the lie. It's unnecessary to lie, there's no point in telling the CBI that you were together, except–

He wanted to impress Lisbon. Of course.

Trying to conceal your emotions from Jane, cause he'd know if you're lying, you smile at the couple and laugh softly. Marcus approaches you and lays his palm flat on your lower back. A touch that makes you tense and melt at the same time. The warmth of his hand gives you some comfort and, despite everything going on, it's a comfort you needed for a really long time.

"We're trying to keep it a secret, for now." The words roll off easily from your lips and when you see, you're already wrapping an arm around his torso, smiling as brightly as you can. "Because we're coworkers, and we don't know how the squad would react." And then, with a playful tone, you look at Pike. "But someone can't keep his mouth shut."

Marcus laughs, shaking his head. A fake laugh.

"I just can't contain myself." He leans towards you to press his lips on the crown of your head. “I’m too happy with you.”

It shouldn’t make your heart jump, but it does. You look up at him and give him a real smile this time, your eyes softening as a light breath leaves your lips. He looks at you and notices it, slightly tilting his head like a confused puppy, reading your expression too well. Your smile fades for a moment as you look away, but the fake smile returns when you look at Patrick.

“Oh,” He says, looking a little too disappointed.

“We have to go,” You tell them, smiling. “We got a gang to catch.”

As soon as you both are out of their sight, you let go of each other. The walk back to the quarters is silent and awkward and you have to put an effort to not blush the entire way. Pike warned you, the man is good at reading people. And he really has no filter at all. You just hope that your partner thinks Jane is wrong, you can’t afford him knowing about your feelings for him.

When you reach the doors to the quarters, he calls your name, stopping by the steps. Looking back at him, you see him, with his hands on his hips and his eyes on the floor. You swallow, feeling your heart speed up.

“About what Jane said–”

“He was wrong.” You’re quick to interrupt. Marcus’ eyes dart up to you and you have to stop yourself from sighing.

“He’s never wrong.” His voice is soft and there’s a hint of something in his eyes. It’s something sparkly, like– Like hope. You have to look away, pushing the feeling away as you shove your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

“Well, he was,” You tell him, and when he says your first name, “We’re coworkers. Don’t worry, I don’t have feelings for you.”

With that, you turn your back to him and enters the quarters, the lie still burning your throat. Heading straight to the bathroom, you feel your eyes watering. By the time you lock the door, they run down your cheeks and you sob. You didn’t know why it hurt so much to lie to him, but it does.

You’re really into him, aren’t you?

…

Another member of the gang was murdered. Frederick Hale, second to leader of the Crystal Eye, was found dead by gunshot wounds almost in the same street Liam Dixon was found. When you and Pike got the crime scene to identify the body, forensics were almost done with everything.

“That doesn’t make sense,” You say, gripping you tea mug on the table. During the briefing, your brain is working like a machine, trying to figure out why the member of the gang were dropping like flies.

“Could be a coincidence.” Russell suggested, shrugging.

“It could be, but two members in the same day?” You argue.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Pike tells everyone. “Ballistics came through. Liam and Frederick were killed by the same gun.”

It doesn’t surprise you. You knew it was too good to be a coincidence.

“So, someone is definitely taking them out.” You nod.

“Maybe they both fucked up, and the man was mad about it.” Davis shrugs.

“No, it’s not like Yosef,” Pike says, sitting down and crossing his arms. The shirt tightens around his arms and you look away quickly, not letting the horny thoughts distract you from the investigation. “He doesn’t eliminate his members like that.”

“What if someone’s infiltrated in the gang?” You bite your thumbnail, like you always do, a habit Marcus noticed you did in the first week of working with you. You do it when you’re concentrated, thinking of something important.

“Like an informant?” He asks, looking at you. You don’t meet his gaze.

“No, no. Like– Someone who joined it with the specific purpose of killing them?”

“Like an avenger?” Davis scoffs and you shoot an angry look at him.

“Yeah,” Pike says, nodding. “I thought the same thing.”

Finally, finally you look at him. He gives you an assuring look as he's saying I agree with you and I have your back at the same time. That’s a thing you like about him. The way you both communicate without words. You open your mouth to agree, but his phone rings before you make a word out. He picks it up, dismissing you all with a wave of his hand and you sigh, standing up and walking to your desk.

You only get to turn the computer screen before Marcus makes a quick beeline for you and asks if he could talk to you for a moment. Outside. Feeling your stomach churning, you nod, knowing something is wrong. Following him to the back patio of the building, you take a couple of deep breaths, preparing yourself for whatever is coming. When you both are in a safe distance from the other members of the squad, he turns to you and sighs.

“That was Jane on the phone.” He explains, quickly.

A frown is on your forehead. “Jane? Patrick Jane?”

“Yeah.” He breathes, wetting his lips with his tongue and exhaling softly. “He invited us to a double date.”

A laugh escapes your lips and you smile, thinking it’s a joke. “A double date with who?”

His face is serious when he answers. “You and me, him and Teresa.”

The smile falls from your face and you tilt your head, knowing there’s more to it. “And you said no, right?”

Marcus’ gaze is on the floor as he avoids the question by staying in silence.

“Pike.” You insist. “Tell me you said no.” No answer. “Please, tell you said we’re going to be busy or that we had plans already.

You wait for his answer until he finally looks at you again. “I said yes.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you close your eyes and sigh deeply. Marcus bites his bottom lip, eagerly waiting for an answer, leg bouncing in anxiety.

“Why?” You ask, eyes still closed.

“I-I– I just–”

“Is this about Teresa?” You interrupt him before he could think of what to say. “Is this you trying to prove a point to her?”

“No!” He answers too quickly and you narrow your eyes at him. “Y-you know I can’t lie to Jane, he’ll know if I do!”

“Not even on the phone?!” You argue.

“Trust me, he’d know.”

Looking away, you sigh, crossing your arms. Marcus knows he’s putting you in a difficult position and the truth is that he doesn’t actually know why he said yes to the date. Maybe he just wishes he could go out with you and, knowing you would refuse his invitation if it was a normal situation, he accepted to continue to lie to Teresa and Patrick just to go out with you.

“Fine.” You finally answer. “When?”

“Tonight, eight o’clock.”

Sighing, once more, you nod. “Okay. But his ends tonight. No more lies. We’re here to work.”

He raises his hands in defense. “I promise, boss.”

“Fuck.” You mumble, walking away from him and ignoring the teasing nickname,

This is bullshit.

 …

Why this had to happen?

You look at yourself in the mirror for the hundredth time. The hotel room is a mess, clothes all scattered around the floor and bed. You didn’t bring any date clothes. Not even a casual dress. Not even a formal dress. You weren’t counting on going on a fucking date with a fake boyfriend.

The only formal set of clothes you bring is a plaid gray skirt, with length just above the knees, and a blazer in the same color and pattern. You put it in your suitcase just in case you’d have to attend an audience or be in the presence of a judge. Pairing it with a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of your usual office heels – black stiletto heels with a pointed toe – you decided this is the outfit.

Many times you imagined what your first date with Marcus would be. Your imagination liked to go far, from movie dates to fancy dinners, after all, it doesn’t hurt to think, right? But you never, ever imagined it would be like this. Faking a relationship to impress his ex. It kinda hurts, you realize, being a pawn to his game. But, deep down, you were dying for an excuse to go out with him. Even if it might be unprofessional. You just wish it would be you and him only.

A soft knock on your door announces he’s ready. You check your makeup and adjust your hair quickly, before walking to the door. You open it to a see a very handsome Marcus Pike standing at your door. He’s wearing a black suit and tie, like he usually does at work, but something is different. He’s neater, his hair is combed in place and his beard is trimmed and… Is he wearing cologne? The smell invades your nostrils and intoxicates you quickly, in a good way.

“Should I have shaved?” He asks, when you don’t speak. You blink, returning to the real world.

“No.” You shake your head, smiling. “You look– You look great.”

A shy smile curves the corners of his lips. “You too.”

You wave a hand at him, grabbing your clutch bag and closing the door behind you.

“I didn’t bring anything fancy, so…” You try to explain yourself.

“No, no, you look–” He hesitates. “You look beautiful.”

Feeling your cheeks warm, you look away from him, clearing your throat. Marcus is still amazed by you, looking so different tonight. Your hair is down and he fights the urge to run his fingers through it. In the three years he’s known you, he tries to think when he ever saw you with your hair down and he can’t. This might be the first time.

“Shall we?” You pull him out of his thoughts. He nods, and offers his arm for you to hook yours in it. You feel nervous, but for some reason, there’s a good feeling settled in your stomach.

Soft classical music reaches your ears as you enter the fancy restaurant, Marcus following right behind you, his hand hovering your lower back. As soon as you enter, a receptionist smiles and asks for your names.

“Yeah, we’re under the name Jane,” Marcus says, nodding once at her. She checks a list and tells you both to follow her.

She guides you both to an empty table and, for a moment, you think maybe they’re late, until you realize it’s a table for two. Your stomach drops and you swallow, frowning confused at the lady. Marcus laughs softly and shakes his head.

“No, there must be a mistake,” He says.

The receptionist frowns and checks the list again. “It says here you’ve reserved a table for two, Mister Jane.”

Marcus gapes at her as she walks away leaving you two behind. A waiter is politely waiting for you both to sit down at the table to hand you the menu, but you just look at each other, mouths hanged open.

“Maybe–” You say, swallowing hard. “Maybe we’re at the wrong restaurant.”

“No, he did this.” He whispers to you as you look at him, confused. “He set us up.”

A scoff leaves his throat as you look at him, pale and shaking. Does that mean you’re on an actual date… With Marcus Pike?

“What do we do now?” You ask, holding your clutch bag tightly with your hands.

“Well, we have two options. We can leave, and that’s okay if you want to.” He looks you in the eyes, leaning slightly towards you in honesty. “Or we can have dinner.”

The look you give him is one he can decipher. He can’t tell if you’re offended by the proposition or just thinking about it. Deep down he’s hoping you say yes, hoping you’d have dinner with him, just you and him. Then, a shy smile curves the corners of your lips and you shrug.

“Okay,” You tell him. “Since I’ve put on makeup and got all dressed up.”

He smiles at you and walks to the table to pull the chair for you to sit on. As the waiter hands you the menu and Marcus sits down in front of you, you try to calm down your nerves and try not to think you’re in an actual date with Agent Pike aka your boss. You order white wine and him Whiskey. After the waiter leaves, a moment of silence hangs between the both of you until you laugh nervously.

“I gotta admit,” You say, laughing. “Going on a date with my boss is kinda… Weird.”

Marcus stares at you for a few seconds and you wonder if saying the d-word was a bad move. But then he smiles, looking down at the menu and shaking his head.

“Just… Don’t think of me as Agent Pike. Tonight I’m just Marcus.”

“Marcus.” You repeat his name and nod. “Okay, Marcus… So what do you do for fun?”

Marcus breath almost hitches at the way you say his name and he imagines a thousand scenarios where you say his name like that. He clears his throat and swallows, closing the menu and looking at you.

“You know, the usual,” He answers. “Drink beer, watch TV.”

You smile, raising your eyebrows. “That’s all?” You tease. “You’re going to tell me Agent Marcus Pike doesn’t have a hobby?”

“C’mon.” He laughs. “You know which are my hobbies. You’ve known me for years.”

“Hmm, yes.” You smile. “But you said you’re Marcus tonight and I’m just trying to get to know you.”

Marcus looked at you with warmth in his eyes. A certain look that makes your stomach churn in pleasure, your heart speed and your cheeks warm. It’s something different. Perhaps the first time you look at his eyes like this in three years of knowing him.

“Alright,” He finally says. “My hobbies include watching TV, cooking and martial arts.”

A frown grows between your brows as you look at him surprised. “Cooking? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, I decided to give it a try last month.” He shrugs and waits for the waiter to serve their drink before continuing talking. “I keep burning water, I don’t know why I even try.”

A laugh escapes your lips. A genuine laugh. “That bad, huh?” You take a sip of the wine as you watch him nod. “You just practice. I can teach you some recipes if you want. My mom tells me I’m an excellent cook.”

“Yeah, maybe you should.” He gives you that look again and you clear your throat, playing with the stem of your glass of wine. Marcus’ fingers slowly approach yours, barely grazing at your skin before pulling away at the sound of the waiter’s voice asking if you were ready to order.

Marcus orders the special stake and you the mushroom cream soup. The food is good, tasty, but you really wished you could have something simpler. You didn’t mind, as long as you’re with him. The night goes by with laughter, talk about your personal lives and stolen looks from each other. By dessert, you both were buzzed off by the alcohol and kept laughing at everything.

“Wait, you threw up on her?” You ask, a wide smile on your face as Marcus tells you a story about his very first date, where he got too drunk and everything went wrong.

“On her shoes!” He replies, burying his face on his hands.

“Oh my god!” You put a hand on your mouth to muffle a laugh.

“I was seventeen, okay?” He argues, laughing too.

Wiping a tear from the corner of your eyes, you sigh, feeling your face warm. You both fall into a comfortable silence as Marcus reaches for your hands on the table. Your fingers touch his and you feel the warmth of his body sending shivers down your spine. You realize you want to hold his hand forever, the feeling of his rough palm on yours is comforting to you.

“I’m having a great time.” He confesses, a closed-lipped smile on his face. An involuntary smile curves your lips too, letting the feeling take over you.

“Me too.” Your voice is small, shy. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” He agrees and fall in silence again.

Suddenly, an urge to tell him how you feel hits you. It may be the alcohol, but you can’t shake off the thoughts of confessing your feelings to him from your mind. You shouldn’t do it, not even your drunk self knows it. But the pain of yearning for a man, a good man, and not being reciprocated hits you and you don’t like the feeling.

“It’s getting late.” You whisper instead and he nods, asking for the check. He insists on paying, despite your protests.

The cab ride back to the hotel is silent and he’s not touching you anymore, but you wished he was. You wished he reached out for your hand, laced them together and pressed his lips on your skin. You wished this night never ended, you wished you would never let him go. The buzz of the alcohol is already faded when you both arrive at your hotel room, pulling the keycard from your wallet. Marcus walks with you and you look at him, smiling.

“So that was fun,” You say, biting your bottom lip.

“It was.” He smiles back. “We should do it again some time.”

Your heart skips a beat at small offer and all you can do is nod and smile. God, you really want to kiss him. You really want to kiss that stupid face, wipe off that stupid grin and pull him to your room. Licking your lips, your eyes set on his and he seems to notice because he licks his own lips, making your breath hitch.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” He says, looking right into your eyes.

And you should say no. You should draw the line, tell him you work together and that would be inappropriate. But instead you say,

“Okay.”

And then his lips gently press into yours as you close your eyes. The air escapes from your lungs as you reach for his neck, pulling him closer, his own hands cup your cheeks, kissing you tenderly. It feels amazing. The sensations his lips give you are beyond your imagination. As you open your mouth, allowing him you slip his tongue in, you sigh, deepening the kiss and tugging at his hair.

Then, you sober up. You pull away too quickly and wide your eyes, the blood draining from your face and your throat closing at the realization you just kissed your fucking boss.

“Shit,” You mumble, backing up. Marcus calls your name softly.

“It’s okay–”

“No.” You interrupt him. “You’re my boss, we work together.” You exhale sharply. “We can’t.”

“Sweetheart–”

“Don’t.” You raise a finger to him. “Please– Just don’t.”

Fumbling with the keycard you enter your room without giving him a chance to speak. The place it’s still a mess from your private fashion show, but you don’t care. Tears spill from your eyes as you remove your shoes and your clothes, not bothering to putting on pajamas or organizing the room before burying yourself under the covers.

Well, now, you’re really fucked.

_

tags: @madadlorian​ @xo-dragonette-xo​ @rosetophighlander​ @adikaofmandalore​ @pedropascalito​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @burningsoulbloodyheart​ 

let me know if you want to be tagged in part ii!

[maybankiara]

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

summary: Kie meets her housemates. For the better part of the day, it’s a warm welcome (even from one housemate’s girlfriend who lives downstairs), until JJ Maybank rolls around. Snappy and unwelcoming (and somehow never wearing enough clothes), he’s only the beginning of troubles for Kie.

word count: 8k

my foolish heart masterlist 

read on ao3

Moving to Kildare is a decision Kie makes in about fifteen minutes, on a rainy Thursday. After spending four years getting her degree and a year travelling the world, returning home is nearly unfathomable. It’s a month of endless arguing, of never seeing eye to eye, and her parents’ inability to understand that she isn’t their “little Kie” anymore.

 She’s had enough, so Kildare it is.

 Moving to a place she’s only heard of once or twice in passing is better than living with parents who don’t give a damn about what she wants.

 She packs up her belongings, counts her savings, and sets out for the town on the West Coast. No plane ticket – the prospect of a four-day bus trip is daunting, but she’s put herself through worse. The important thing is that there is nothing worthy she’s left behind.

 Kie lets herself change her mind until she reaches the bus station at Chapel Hill. When she boards the bus and sits down next to an elderly man that she’ll be sitting next to for hours until the next transfer, she scours Craigslist for housemates.

 If she’s moving to Kildare, she’s moving to Kildare.

 The adventure doesn’t end until she lets it.

 She finds a decent-looking apartment with four housemates urgently looking for a fifth. It’s cheap, too – she’s applying to jobs as the day turns into night, but there’s no guarantee of getting it. Her savings won’t last her a lifetime; she needs to get her life kickstarted.

 By the time she steps foot in Kildare, it’s Monday morning, and she has a place to live.

 John B. Routledge is the first housemate she meets. He’s the one who posted the ad and he’s the one who answers her calls (throughout the following days, video calls, too). He’s also the one who picks her up from the bus station.

 Kie thinks about this situation as she makes her way off the bus, waiting for the driver to open the cargo so she can get her two suitcases. She is essentially agreeing to go live with four boys (granted, they’re all also in early twenties), across the country, because one of them seemed like he’s not going to kill her.

 The driver takes out her suitcases and she goes to fetch them, adding a quiet ‘Thank you, have a good day.’

 She walks off the bus stop and into the station, glancing around for a tall boy with floppy brown hair and a kind face. Possibly with a red bandanna wrapped around his neck. The boy is a little eccentric—and possibly overenthusiastic—but he seems kind, and he’s willing to give her a hand.

 Kie doesn’t forget kindness easily.

 John B ends up waiting for her at the entrance into the station, hands relaxing in the pockets of his jean shorts. His face stretches into a grin as soon as he lays his eyes on her.

 ‘Hey, Kiara!’

 She returns the smile. ‘Hey.’

 He approaches her, wearing the bandanna just like she thought. He paired it off with a half-buttoned shirt that’s almost see through – it’s the look she’d see him wearing to the beach, not to pick up his new housemate.

 (Don’t judge before you meet, she reminds herself.)

 John B goes in for a hug, and she awkwardly wraps her hands around his back. When they part, he glances around. ‘I’ll help you out with the suitcases.’

 ‘Thanks, but you don’t have to—’

 ‘I can’t let you carry all of that yourself,’ he argues, already reaching for the suitcases. ‘C’mon. You spent days getting here.’

 Accepting that he has a point, she lets him take over, but keeps her backpack. They’re actually faster this way, too. John B tells her he parked a little out of the parking lot so he wouldn’t need to “pay the outrageous price”, and the refusal of going with the system warms her heart a little.

 John B’s taller than her by a few inches and he’s got that broad-shouldered, chiselled-body look from what she can tell (his muscles are literally about to pop out of his shirt.) Usually, going into a car with someone like this and letting them drive her to their place would feel ridiculous, but the boy looks as far from menacing as possible.

 (Still, Kie tells herself she’d fend him off if she had to. Truth is, she’s crashing from the lack of proper sleep and she hasn’t had food in over twelve hours and she’s a little bit exhausted.)

 His car is actually an orange van filled with trinkets belonging to him and his friends; when Kie climbs into it, it feels as if it has a personality of its own. It’s as brown on the inside as it is on the outside, and she likes the whole hippie, surfer vibe it’s going on. She’s not sure if that extends to its owners, but she’s happy to find out.

 John B takes care of the suitcases. She throws the backpack with them, relishing in not having to carry anything for the first time in days.

 ‘There’s a sandwich for you.’ John B reaches into the glove department, taking out something that Kie never would’ve guessed is a sandwich. ‘Pope made it. He’s pretty good with food.’

 ‘Okay, thanks.’

 Kie takes it and examines it a little. John B drives them onto the road, driving close to the beach – she looks out with longing in her heart. It makes her decide to not be ungrateful and takes a bite into the sandwich that, surprisingly, actually turns out to be delicious.

 John B takes a turn. ‘You ready to see your new home?’

 (Kie is starting to think that smile is permanently etched on his face.)

 ‘Temporary home,’ she emphasises, then flinches at the intensity of her own tone. ‘Sorry. I’ve had a few long days. Right now, a bed is all I can think about.’

 ‘We set up your bed yesterday. The whole room is in a really good state.’ 

 They get onto a bigger road and right into the traffic, but John B doesn’t seem to mind. He puts on a chill reggae song (is this really happening? did she get that lucky?) and hums to it, before turning back to Kie.

 ‘Sarah actually insisted on getting you some new bedsheets and all, so it’s all ready for you.’

 ‘Sarah?’

 ‘My girlfriend. She lives downstairs.’

 ‘Oh, that’s nice.’

 ‘Yeah, she’s pretty nice,’ says John B, in this half-dazed voice that tells Kie the couple is definitely still in the honeymoon phase. ‘How was the sandwich, by the way?’

 ‘It was amazing, thanks.’

 He doesn’t ask anything else and she doesn’t have anything to say, so she puts up the volume up the tiniest bit, and lets herself relax a little. (Even if she’s about to be sacrificed to a cult – she deserves to breathe.)

 Kildare is prettier in real life than in pictures. It’s one of the older fishing towns, with modern job prospects only flourishing in the past half a century, so most of the houses are ancient, for American standards. The beach is nice and although the waves don’t seem to be the same, she knows she’ll manage. She plans to make herself busy in town, anyway, but knowing that she’s not bound to land is soothing enough.

 ‘So,’ says John B after the second Marley song ends. ‘What’s your story?’

 ‘Oh, quite boring, actually,’ she admits. ‘Squabbled with my parents and decided to move to the other end of the country.’

 ‘Ah.’

 ‘Yeah.’

 He ponders over her words a little, then gives her a glance and a warm smile. ‘Kildare is a pretty good place to start a new life.’

 ‘Yeah?’

 ‘Mhm. The best, actually. We’ve got everything you could possibly need.’

 The hints of humour in his voice drag a smile out of her, too. ‘What, like housemates who try to pull a Hotel California on you?’

 John B lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Exactly! But don’t tell the others.’

 He embarks on a brief history of Kildare and manages to entertain her enough to keep her from falling asleep – she thinks he might be a tour guide. John B’s lived here his entire life, only moving to the city when his dad died a few years ago. He could go back to his “Chateau”, but he says there’s something nice about having his old home be a getaway, now.

 By the time they actually arrive at John B’s—their—apartment, Kie feels like she knows exactly what the boy with the bandanna around his neck is made of. He’s quite simple and easy to understand.

 Kie likes simple.

 When they pull up in the parking lot of their apartment complex, a boy John B refers to as their housemate Pope is waiting on the porch. He ends up being a tall, dark-skinned boy John B’s age with a little less enthusiasm, but a little more maturity. He’s wearing a shirt over a tee and a pair of shorts, shaking her hand.

 ‘Hey, Kiara. I’m glad to finally have you here,’ he says, giving her a smile that’s more reserved than John B’s. ‘Are you sure you’re okay being with four boys?’

 It’s half serious and half a joke, but she chuckles regardless. ‘I guess I’ll have to be.’

 John B appears at her side, handing Pope one of her suitcases. ‘She’ll be fine. She likes reggae and I think she likes the beach, she’ll fit right in.’

 Kie just looks at him, eyebrows raised.

 All she gets in return is a shrug and another smile. ‘What? I saw you staring at the beach and don’t tell me you turned up the volume on that Bob Marley song.’

 ‘I love Bob Marley.’

 ‘Good, because we are all very fond of Mr Marley,’ says Pope. He tilts his head then, frowns, and looks over at his friend. ‘Does Kelce like Bob Marley?’

 ‘Dunno.’

 ‘Huh. Well, we should probably get going.’

 In the end, Kie enters their apartment building with the bandanna boy behind her, and Pope in the front. Each of the boys is carrying a suitcase and John B took it upon himself to carry the backpack, too; the lack of any weight, for the first time in days, feels disconcerting.

 ‘So on the ground floor, there’s the Glissons,’ John B tells her. ‘A pretty charming family with one kid, but they can be loud sometimes. I can hear the kid screaming in the backyard from my window.’ 

 John B ends up telling her the stories of all residents as they walk up the stairs. It’s interesting, and it’s all the people she’ll be seeing around for a while, but Kie can’t pay attention for more than two minutes for the life of her. Judging by the way Pope’s shoulders are slumped, he’s not listening to the boy, either.

 ‘This is Sarah’s apartment,’ John B says, with a smile on his face once again. ‘She’ll come by later, she’s at work right now, but she’s really excited to meet you.’

 ‘Oh, I’m excited to meet her, too.’

 Kie finds it a little odd that everybody seems so excited to meet her, but doesn’t dwell on it. Maybe it’s normal, and she’s the odd one.

 ‘Yeah, she said she stalked you on Instagram, or something.’ He frowns a little, eyes shifting from Kie to Pope. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.’

 Kie feels the tug at the corners of her mouth. ‘It’s okay. I don’t mind.’

 At least being excited after stalking her Instagram account and therefore knowing something about her (travelling, blogging, feminism, activism, and probably some other stuff) makes sense for someone to be excited.

 (She’s also slightly taken aback at John B’s tone insinuating that the boys didn’t perform a background check on her before letting her stay with them. She certainly did one on them – or tried, really, because they didn’t end up being much of social media people.)

 ‘So,’ says Pope, ‘here we are.’

 The trio don’t dwell before opening the door to the apartment. It’s a rather newish place with walls painted a soft, creamy brown; right behind the door is a massive coat rack with a variety of styles displayed on it – from leather to plaid jackets, and an occasional winter coat. The smell of the flat is nice, surprisingly. Sweet.

 John B gets in behind them, her suitcase creaking as he pulls it over the doorstep, and shuts the door.

 ‘So? What do you think?’ Pope has a nervous look on his face.

 ‘It looks nice, so far,’ Kie says, giving him a smile.

 ‘So far,’ John B chuckles. ‘Just wait till you see what we have done with the living room.’

 ‘Alright, show me. Better sooner than later.’

 ‘You’re gonna love it,’ says Pope, in a voice that’s either really genuine or oddly sarcastic.

 She doesn’t have the time to build up expectations before the boys urge to keep going forward. They pass Pope’s bedroom on the left, next to the first bathroom, and Kelce’s bedroom is on the right. The hallway widens in the front and there’s a corridor that extends to each side – she thinks it’s a little weird that the middle of the flat is basically an intersection but hey, she’s not an architect. John B tells her it’s him and JJ on the left, and Kie’s on the right, with the second bathroom and a storage/laundry room to keep her company.

 In front of them is a massive open-plan living room/kitchen, painted a very soothing baby blue all over. The room seems to be split in half by an island counter with barstools propped up around it – kitchen elements are to the left, and the couch and the medium-sized TV with a PlayStation underneath are to the right. The curtains are wide open with sun shining bright enough to make the whole place liven up.

 There’s also the tiny aspect of the decor that she assumes was the boys’ touch. Road signs and traffic cones and even something long and thin that seems a little too much like a ramp are scattered across the living area. Above the couch is a massive pin board with a lot of notes, letters, postcards, schemes and designs for something that resembles cars; and all of this is put together by several different strings of fairy lights, pinned all around the walls—even the ceiling—looking like weeds, almost.

 Kie lets out a surprised, breathy laugh.

 It’s not that it isn’t nice. It just… not what she expected, really.

���(The surfer girl in her is living for this.)

 John B goes to stand in front of her, arms spread wide and a dumb grin on his face. In the middle of the living room, like this, he looks like the king of his castle – Kie’s laugh becomes a little firmer.

 ‘And?’ 

 She grins, wide and honest. ‘I love it.’

 The boys cheer and John B flings himself at Pope, next to Kie, smacking a high-five to his hand. They walk further into the room. Pope goes into the kitchen, and Kie and John B take a seat on the barstools. He gives them a glass of water, each (‘Sarah and I are doing this healthy living thing, so I only drink water and milkshakes.’)

 ‘This place is really nice,’ Kie admits, then nods towards the collection of things from the road with a smirk. ‘Not very legal, though.’

 ‘Are you a cop?’ asks John B.

 ‘No?’

 ‘Do you know a cop?’

 ‘…no?’

 ‘Will you tell a cop?’

 ‘Look, if you get me drunk enough, I’ll be the one adding some more to the collection.’

 If there was any tension between them, it dissipated in this very moment. Kie’s statement seems to confirm the boys’ assumptions – she is going to become one of them, they tell her that much. It’s this fact that earns Kie a lunch because she arrived here, and John B lunch because he brought her here. JJ earns his lunch by simply not being here to make his own, according to Pope, who Kie learns absolutely adores cooking.

 It’s lovely. They have a good vibe between them and they’re not excluding her, and she feels comfortable around them.

 John B takes her to her room shortly after they’re all done eating their tacos.

 ‘There you go,’ he says, opening the door to her room. ‘It’s not much, but…’

 Kie walks in and feels herself smiling. ‘I love it.’

 It’s a cosy room – queen-sized bed with soft purple bedding, a long desk right underneath the window looking west with a simple white desk lamp from IKEA with a black wooden chair, three shelves on each side of the window, and a modest closet that she already knows she’ll only half fill with the things she brought. There’s enough floorspace for her to bring some decorations in (maybe a mirror and some plants – Kie always wanted that.) Her suitcases in the space between the closet and the wall, with her black backpack perched on top of one.

 Like John B said, it’s not much, but it already feels more like home than her actual bedroom ever did.

 ‘The bedsheets, uh, they’re Sarah’s, but she’s okay with you keeping them.’ 

 ‘I’ll give them back, don’t worry.’ Kie opens the window wide, letting fresh air in. ‘What’s her favourite chocolate?’

 The boy frowns, thinking. His arm is leaning on the doorframe and his forehead against his arm, and he looks both quite out of place and perfectly in place.

 ‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘She prefers milkshakes, anyway. You know, that homemade stuff. She’s trying to get me into that, but it’s just too much effort, y’know?’

 ‘Effort is always too much.’

 ‘I know, right?’ John B groans, playing along (or maybe he doesn’t notice the teasing in her voice.) ‘Anyway, I’ve got stuff to do. Pope said he’d make dinner for everybody tonight, I can let you know when that’s ready, if you want. I was thinking about having a chill night, but you’re tired, JJ isn’t back yet, and I don’t know where Kelce is, so we should do it some other time.’

 Kie frowns. ‘Is Kelce not around often?’

 ‘Eh,’ says John B, shrugging. ‘He doesn’t like us very much, I think, but he just stays away.’

 This Kelce guy doesn’t sound like he’ll be as nice to be around as the two she’s met so far, but Kie doesn’t allow concern about that to take over.

 ‘Knock on my door, then. I’m a light sleeper.’

 John B nods, wishes her a good nap, and closes the door when he leaves.

 The silence that befalls is different than the one back home. There, she could always hear the vastness of the empty space when her parents aren’t around; she would be drowning in knowing that she’s the only being alive on the premises. Even this tiny bedroom seemed more alive – if she leans out of the window, she can see Kildare around her. The apartment breaths with life.

 For a moment, Kie just looks around, trying to rewrite her life in her head – this is her life now. This little bedroom, four guys out of whom two are suspiciously kind and the other two she hasn’t met, and Kildare.

 It’s not a dream. The bed she sits on is a little creaky but the bedding is soft and smells like her grandmother’s backyard, and it’s real.

 All of this is real.

 Kie starts crying.

  ★

A couple hours later, John B’s knock wakes her up. She tells him she’ll be there in a few and he replies something she doesn’t catch, but she hears footsteps before she can ask. 

 Rolling over on the bed sheets, still wearing the clothes she travelled in, Kie feels like she woke up in a different reality. Before her nap, she managed to compose herself enough to get some of her belongings sorted – the books she brought are on the shelves, her journal and a pen are on the desk, and a clean change of clothes is neatly folded on the chair. The room still doesn’t really feel hers, but it’s starting to.

 (She doesn’t want to think ahead of herself, so she doesn’t think about tomorrow, or the day after, or whatever is going to happen with jobs and—No.)

 Kie rubs her eyes. Her stomach grumbles and she pushes herself off the bed; the beige walls look brighter than they were when she fell asleep. She opens the window again, leaning through it – she can see someone’s window being wide open on her floor. She wonders if it’s John B or that JJ guy.

 Kildare looks pretty from here. The view isn’t the greatest, but it’s unfamiliar, and Kie loves that.

 It takes her nearly half an hour to get herself to the kitchen. She ends up opting for a shower, first, because priorities are priorities and she washed herself in the disgusting bus stations for days.

 She’s halfway through showering, hair all wet, when she realises that she doesn’t have a shampoo. Or anything else, for that matter. Which is terrible, because Kie is quite particular about her shower routine and the fact that he’s prevented from enjoying it, truly puts a damper on her day. Using someone else’s shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, all of that… It’s not her favourite.

 In this situation, she wouldn’t really wash her hair if that’s the case (it’s curly, okay) but there’s someone’s coconut shampoo for dry hair and a matching conditioner and okay, maybe she’ll steal a little bit of that. The shower gel is one of the minty Axe ones and she knows that she will smell like a man, but it’s either that or keeping on the smell of all the buses she’d been on.

 (She hopes no one will notice.)

 The bathroom itself is smaller than she expected, but there’s a toilet and a shower tub and a mirror over a sink with a cupboard behind the glass, and it’s cute. The only thing she notes is that there’s only one of everything. Could it really be only one person using the bathroom? She’s the only one in this end of the corridor, and the only thing here aside from her bedroom and the bathroom is the storage that also serves as the laundry room.

 It could be any of the boys. Or, actually, she assumes it can’t be Pope or Kelce, since they have a bathroom in their corridor. Probably John B, then – he seems like he cares enough about the way he looks to have some nicer hair products.

 Looking in the foggy mirror, Kie feels as if the mirror is making her face look thinner than it is. That could be the case, but knowing what kind of stress she’d put herself under for the past few days… and the lack of eating…

 She leaves the bathroom looking a bit better for the wear, and smelling like a minty coconut.

 (I’m not trying to make an impression, she tells herself, but the lie falls flat even in her own head.)

 Kie dries hair quickly with a fancy cotton towel she took—stole?—from home. She puts on the clean clothes, feeling very Lara Croft-y in her black tank top and denim shorts;  it’s a confidence boost, for sure. She finishes it off with a pair of converse trainers (she forgot to pack slippers) and sets out for the kitchen. The smell of food fills the corridor, and her stomach churns.

 ‘What smells so good?’ she asks, right before entering.

 ‘Hey, Kiara.’ Pope’s leaning on the island counter as he eats out of a massive pot with a spoon, giving her a warm grin. ‘You’re looking fresh.’

 ‘Had a shower. Works wonders. It’s Kie for friends, by the way.’ Pope hums in response and Kie approaches the kitchen, looking into the pot. It looks like a bolognese sauce, except the colour seems is more of an orange than a begie, and there’s a few scents to it she can’t identify. ‘What’s that?’

 ‘Bolognese a la Pope Heyward. I’ll get you a spoon and a fork.’

 ‘Is it spaghetti?’

 ‘It’s penne, why?’

 Kie pretends to gag, taking a seat at the island counter. ‘I hate spaghetti. I just can’t’—she makes a rounding motion with her hands—‘twist it the right way.’

 Pope laughs as he hands her a plate and a fork. He has a nice laugh, Kie notes – it involves the entirety of his face, with his eyebrows going up a little bit. It’s sweet.

 ‘Yeah, spaghetti tends to be ridiculous sometimes,’ he tells her, leaning on his elbow against the counter. ‘You’ve got to cook them just the right way. Timing and salt is everything.’

 ‘I don’t like to cook by the rules, so precise dishes don’t really suit me.’

 ‘You’re more the type to cook by the heart?’

 ‘Eh, I guess you could say that.’ She takes the fork and pushes the penne around until it’s all mixed together – and realises just how much food that is. She brings her eyes to meet Pope’s. ‘This looks absolutely amazing, but I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all of it.

 He waves her off. ‘JJ will finish it, if you don’t. He told me to leave him everything that’s not eaten by the end of the day, although he had more than a fair share already.’

 Kie perks up at this, a forkful of food halfway to her mouth. ‘He’s home? I thought John B said he was at work.’

 ‘He came back about an hour ago. Wanted to use the shower after eating, but you must’ve been using his bathroom, so he went for a jog instead.’

 There’s no way—

 ‘His bathroom? But I thought John B said everything was communal.’

 She should’ve known the toiletries would belong to one of the two flatmates she hasn’t met. She should’ve known that at some point, her luck had to start running out.

 Kie runs a hand through her hair and the scent of coconut and mint both engulf her; she pulls her hand down immediately, gauging Pope’s reaction. Can he smell it on me?

 ‘It’s communal,’ he says, ‘but he’s been the only one using that bathroom since Topper left. John B’s lazy, he likes to shower in the one that’s closer. Or at Sarah’s.’

 ‘So I can use it, right?’

 ‘Of course!’ he says, as if he hadn’t pretty much just told her it’s JJ’s. ‘JJ will get used to it, as long as you’re clean.’

 Come think of it, the bathroom was unusually clean for a boy. ‘Is he a clean freak?’

 ‘No it’s more like… He just likes to have a safe space. It’s him and showers, or water in general – I often joke that he’s a siren.’

 With her heart finally at peace, knowing that JJ won’t gauge her eyes out for taking a shower, Kie takes the first bite of Pope’s dish. It’s still warm and absolutely delicious, and he laughs when she lets something along the lines of a moan.

 ‘Pope, this is — oh my god.’

 Tilting his head down, the boy’s face stretches into a shy smile. He grabs a wet glass from the drying rack and starts wiping it with a cloth, leaning against the counters. ‘Thanks. I’m having a good day, so.’

 He doesn’t finish. Kie takes another bite and says, ‘So you’re cooking for everybody.’

 ‘Yeah. Kind of.’

 ‘That’s pretty nice of you. I’ll cook tomorrow, if you’ll have me. I’m not the greatest of cooks, but there’s some Asian dishes I can cook pretty well and—’

 ‘Kie, that would be amazing.’

 ‘Yeah, well – I try. Don’t judge before you try.’ Kie isn’t too keen on hyping herself up. Offering to cook is fine, but she doesn’t want anyone to have expectations.

 The two of them fall into a comfortable silence; all Kie can hear is her munching on the bolognese, and Pope drying the dishes and putting them away (Kie makes a mental note of what goes where, and another note to ask what is communal and what isn’t.)

 ‘Why do you call JJ a siren?’

 Pope seems a bit stricken with surprise at Kie’s question, but answers quickly regardless. ‘He’s like that. Mischievous, will die if away from a body of water for too long, lures a lot of people to his bedroom… He’s got quite a reputation.’

 ‘He’s a player,’ Kie interprets.

 ‘I— Yeah. Kind of.’ Pope makes a grimace that tells her he’s not the greatest fan of that. ‘It doesn’t happen to often, anymore. Work’s been keeping him really busy these past few months.’

 Kie just nods. She’s not a fan of casual hookups herself (there’s gotta be…something to them) and she usually doesn’t mind someone else doing that sort of thing, or one-night stands, but she doesn’t quite fancy the idea of random people being around the apartment.

 It may be a bit evil, but Kie likes to hear he hasn’t been having sex as often.

 (She doesn’t even know the first thing about the guy – it is evil.)

 ‘What does he do?’ she asks in an effort to distract herself.

 ‘Mechanics. Engineering.’

 ‘Mechanical engineering?’

 Pope frowns and tilts his head, shaking it a little. ‘Not quite. It’s complicated. He’s a really smart guy, he’ll explain it to you himself. He should be back anytime now, I don’t know what’s taking him so long. Usually he jogs for half an hour only – must’ve been a long day at work.’

 Kie opens her mouth to ask what JJ does for work, when she realises that she’d kind of already asked that. Instead, she finishes her meal and then washes up, listening to Pope talk about his own issues at work (he’s a coroner, which is only slightly morbid, but somehow fits him.) He talks about it a lot, so when John B joins them fresh out of the shower and lets them know Sarah’s coming over in a bit, she’s saved. John B drags Pope into telling her some of the shenanigans the group has been up to during their long friendship, and Kie notices how much John B’s energy makes Pope more energetic.

 That’s the thing about John B – his energy is contagious even when he’s not the one talking the most. Even Kiara feels more awake than she did minutes earlier.

 Nothing about moving to Kildare is how she expected it to be. It seems too easy – too natural. John B and Pope accepted her into the apartment group as if she’d always been a part of it, and they’re all like a family (cooking for everybody? Where did they come from?) and Kie is not used to it.

 She’s never had friends who felt like family. No, scratch that – she’s never had a family that felt this much like family.

 Eventually, Kie goes to rest on the couch while John B updates Pope on the latest news about Kildare’s football team (Kie’s starting to think he might actually be a football coach, now.) Pope doesn’t seem to be listening that much, but John B doesn’t notice, so it’s fine.

 She sees JJ for the first time about an hour since she came out of the shower, and he’s no more than a blotch in the corner of her eye as he marches from the main entrance into his room.

 ‘JJ?’ calls John B. No answer, but they hear a door shut. ‘Kiara’s here!’

 ‘Kie,’ Pope reminds him, and gives the girl a gentle smile.

 No answer comes. The door shuts again. This time, Kie sees a boy slide by, too fast for her to see him properly – but he’s tall, with hair definitely a dirty blonde or a light brown.

 Right before they hear the bathroom (her bathroom) door slam, a voice shouts, ‘I’ll be there in ten!’

 Pope sighs. ‘Multiply that by two.’

 ‘Three.’

 ‘Maybe four, if he got really sweaty.’

 ‘He could be doing himself up for Kie.’

 It’s an offhand comment that’s supposed to be a joke, including her in this whole banter thing, but Kie’s cheeks go ablaze at the idea. Not too long ago she was doing herself up for them in that very same bathroom.

 (First impressions matter, okay?)

 ‘We apologise on JJ’s behalf,’ says Pope. He’s looking at her over the island counter, with one elbow propped up on it to hold his chin. ‘He can be a hardass sometimes.’

 ‘And he won’t apologise,’ adds John B. ‘Got a stick up his ass.’

 ‘He’s a nice guy, though.’

 ‘Yeah,’ Kie muses, ‘I can tell.’

 The boys just sigh, telling her that they can’t convince her otherwise until he convinces her, and Kie starts cataloguing everything she knows about this JJ guy.

 Tall, probably blonde, probably lean. Uses coconut-scented, quality hair products and keeps his bathrooms clean – high maintenance. Demanding, or at least that’s what she got from his asking Pope to save him the food. He seems to go on jogs often, so he’s probably sporty, caring either about his appearance or health. He’s got a job that keeps him busy and it’s got something to do with mechanics and engineering (but not together), so he’s probably quite smart. A player who’s currently on hold, so he could be cranky if there’s a lot of sexual frustration pent up. Slightly possessive (his bathroom?) and not really the one for manners, if him not introducing himself is anything to go by.

 From what the boys told her, she thought he’d be fun – the guy she has in her head doesn’t seem like the guy who’d tape fairy lights all over the living room and decorate it with stolen road signs, or really like the ocean.

 So, JJ – Kie’s not his biggest fan.

 (He definitely pales in comparison to John B and Pope. Maybe he doesn’t take change well; maybe he doesn’t like newcomers in his inner circle.

 She isn’t already making excuses for his behaviour.)

 There’s the irritating iPhone message chime somewhere in the room, interrupting whatever conversation the boys have been having while she’s thinking about their friend. John B reaches into his pocket and reads the message from his phone. ‘Sarah’s here. I’ll go get her, JJ must’ve locked the door.’

 ‘Dumbass,’ says Pope, as if locking the door isn’t the sensible thing to do.

 (Maybe JJ isn’t all bad.)

 Surprisingly, Kie isn’t too bothered about the girlfriend coming up. She sounds nice, from what John B has told her, and she’s actually looking forward to a dash of femininity in the place.

 Sarah Cameron ends up being an incredibly lovely girl, and a completely suitable match for John B – neither of them know when to shut up. In a good way, of course, because Kie likes listening to both of them.

 ‘So, how are you enjoying your room? I wanted to get you some plants and stuff, but John B said it’s probably best if you get them yourself. I know you probably don’t know a lot of people in Kildare and I thought I’d help out. Boys, as you know, aren’t the best at being welcoming.’

 ‘Actually, I’d say they’ve been pretty welcoming.’ Despite the fact that her housemates are engaged in a very passionate conversation about something, she doesn’t want to trash-talk them. ‘Better than I expected, anyway.’

 Sarah chuckles, draping an arm over the back of the couch. ‘Just you wait, honestly. They’re absolutely ridiculous, I love them. They’re chaotic as it is, but with JJ around, it’s all hell breaking lose.’

 ‘That bad?’

 ‘That bad.’

 Exciting, crosses Kie’s mind in a sarcastic tone, until she realises that she genuinely is excited at the prospect of chaos. His life’s been lacking it for a good few years now, if she’s being honest. Besides, all these conflicting statements about JJ and the lack of any mention of Kelce whatsoever is making her curious about the two missing housemates.

 And Sarah is nice, which is why she says, ‘We can go get some plants together, if you’re down. I’ve been meaning to get some anyway.’

 The blonde clasps her hands together, cheeks stretching into a wide grin. ‘Great! Could you do tomorrow? After three, though, because I’ll be in kindergarten until then.’

 ‘Yeah, tomorrow sounds great, just let me know when you’re back here.’

 And any other day. Any time. It’s not like I’ve got somewhere to be.

 Another part of her mind concerns with the whole “kindergarten” part, but she figures she’ll find out, eventually.

 ‘You drive?’ asks Sarah.

 ‘Yeah, but I don’t have a car here. Yet.’

 She thinks of her car back home – it was a nice car. Kie loved that car, especially when something would need fixing and she and her dad would get into their ugly and old clothes and—

 Kie rests her arm on the back of the couch, glancing at the girl sitting next to her. She’s wearing a floral tube top and high-waisted denim jeans, with her blonde hair loose save for the two front pieces on each side that she plaited – it’s an effortlessly chic look.

 ‘That’s fine,’ she says. ‘I can drive. I’m honestly so happy there’s finally a girl in the flat, I’ve been telling them that this place is lacking a feminine touch for ages. As much as I love them, it gets a little too full of testosterone sometimes.’

 ‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll be giving it much of a feminine touch.’

 It’s a joke, but it catches Pope’s attention: ‘The most feminine thing we’ve got is JJ’s coconut hair set. I feel like that says enough.’

 Kie’s cheeks flare up at the comment. She tells herself no one will connect the dots despite her smelling like minty coconut. First things first, she needs to go shopping tomorrow, and she’s happy to hear that Sarah is more than willing to accompany her.

 ‘So, shopping tomorrow?’ asks the blonde.

 John B makes a groan that sounds a lot like “girls”, but blows Sarah an air kiss the moment she gives him the death glare.

 Kie doesn’t hide her laughter, and neither does Pope hide his groan that sounds a lot like “couples”. It only makes Kie laugh harder, before she composes herself.

 ‘Shopping, definitely. I need things.’

 ‘And we can go sightseeing. I know all the best places in Kildare—’

 ‘Unless you’re showing her the Boneyard, you’re not showing her anything worth seeing.’

 Her eyes are drawn to the unfamiliar voice coming from the corridor, and she stifles a small gasp.

 Kiara Carrera has seen a fair share of shirtless boys throughout her life. Most of them, however, were expected – at the beach, at the pool, or in the bedroom. Most of them she was mentally prepared for and they didn’t catch her off-guard. Realistically, she knows he just came out of the shower – but there is absolutely no fucking need for him to be walking around in just a towel, and a loosely wrapped one around his waist most of all. Not with hair that’s still damp and dripping down his bare torso, making him look like he’s glistening.

 And Kie’s got eyes – the lean muscle covering the entirety of his torso and arms doesn’t go unnoticed.

 (It should.)

 Pope sighs as the group watches JJ make a beeline for the hob with the sauce and the pasta on it. ‘And this is JJ,’ he says. ‘JJ, Kie.’

 She tries looking everywhere but his body, and it’s surprisingly difficult. ‘Hey.’

 The blond boy glances in her direction and nods, then glances at John B. ‘I went to the pier today. Had a fucking day at the workshop, the fucking asshole kept giving me the most tedious jobs just because I told him he was wrong.’

 ‘Was he?’

 JJ snorts and fills up a plate. ‘Fuck yeah.’

 As he continues telling the boys about his day, munching on the food with his back turned to Kie, Sarah indulges her in a conversation about music. Kie tries to focus, she really does because she really appreciates the girl trying so hard, but she can’t focus on anything when she’s staring at the back of someone built like that.

 Besides, he’s acting like Kie’s not even there. She tells herself that she isn’t hurt, that she expected something like that – she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and…

 Yeah.

 He doesn’t even so much as look at her.

 Not too long after that, Kie bids her goodbyes as she goes back to her room. Things seem a little weighty now that JJ’s around and the boys seem to not understand that there’s something off – it’s easier to just leave the room.

 She’s got to unpack, anyway. There’s a load of clothes and knick-knacks she took from home that she needs to put somewhere.

 Kie begins with her backpack, seeing as it’s got the least things in it. The first thing she takes out is the phone and the charger along with it; the device is heavy in her hand. If she turns it on, she knows she’ll have dozens of missed calls and texts, despite her leaving a note before she left.

 The note doesn’t matter. They don’t understand.

 (That’s why she left, but it’s not like they’ll understand that, either.)

 She puts it off for a while but the pressure is on the fact that she applied to jobs with this phone number and she needs to be available. If she wants to act like a grown up then there’s some sacrifices that need to be made.

 Reluctantly, Kie plugs the phone into the charger, but doesn’t turn it on just yet.

  ★

Kie doesn’t plan on seeing anyone again. It’s nearly two in the morning already, so she doesn’t think before she goes to the kitchen wearing nothing but an old Bob Dylan sweater and pyjama shorts.

 She just wants some berry tea, really, because falling asleep in a strange bed is more difficult than she thought.

 The fairy lights are on – all of them. The blue light is bright enough to shine the corridor, reflecting pleasantly from the brown walls. Kie rubs her eyes, having come out of a completely dark room.

 It’s almost intimate, the little differences in colour from one set of lights to another; all in different shades of blue. It must be John B, but hopefully she doesn’t walk in on him and Sarah – not like she’s judging a book by its cover, but both of them seemed confident and open enough so that Kie wouldn’t be surprised if they have a sort of a public kink, or something.

 (Sometimes it’s fun to be risky; the possibility of getting caught adds a certain kind of flavour.)

 Kie steps into the kitchen, and the light shines on the back of JJ’s tee.

 Fuck.

 This is, like, the worst case scenario. Of all the people—

 ‘Hi,’ she says.

 JJ doesn’t react. He’s fiddling with something on the counter, his body swaying from side to side in rhythm. He turns his head a bit to the right, reaching for a cutting knife, and she finally sees the earbuds.

 Kie lets out a heavy sigh, feeling her fingers going a little cold.

 (It’s not from the room temperature, because the apartment is roasting.)

 Bracing herself, Kie makes a beeline for the kettle, feeling much like JJ earlier today. He still doesn’t notice; he’s humming along to a song and it’s familiar enough that she almost gets it. She checks the kettle—empty—and turns to fill it up when she nearly bumps into the blond’s chest.

 JJ whisper-screams a profanity, just whatever he was holding thumps on the ground.

 Kie flinches, too, so she figures an apology isn’t necessary (it’s not like she wanted to scare him. She said hi.)

 Still, she takes a step back. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to— We must’ve turned around at the same time.’

 ‘Yeah, must’ve.’ JJ crouches and picks up the bread and whatever’s fallen out of it, all with a melodramatic sigh. ‘Can I eat that?’

 She looks at his hands – ham, cheese, pickles, and a sauce. She feels her face distort. ‘Absolutely not.’

 JJ sighs again, then throws it all into the bin. Kie notices he hasn’t taken out the earbuds as she fills up the kettle and sets it to boil; he delves into the fridge and starts making another sandwich.

 Rude.

 Then again, it is the middle of the night. She’s not feeling very chatty, either.

 She starts making her tea and struggles to find the mugs and the teabags, but doesn’t ask for help. It’s odd; all she can hear is the clanking of her moving around the kitchen, JJ preparing a sandwich, and his humming along to the music in his ears.

 It’s exhausting.

 ‘How come you’re still up?’ she asks. He doesn’t acknowledge her so she taps on his shoulder, waits until he takes an earbud out, and asks again. ‘Can’t sleep?’

 ‘I’ve got work.’

 He doesn’t elaborate. Kie’s jaw clenches and she lets out a huff, just in time for it to be drowned out by the sound of the kettle boiling.

 She goes to tend to her tea, then looks back at JJ – it must be a good sign that the earbud is still hanging off his neck. ‘What’s the Boneyard?’

 ‘You still don’t know?’

 JJ’s tone is demeaning, almost amused – and Kie doesn’t like it the least, so she decides to be just as respectful. ‘Would I be asking if I did?’

 He looks at her, for once; his eyes gaze into hers as if he’s trying to decipher her. The chuckle he lets out is a little more amused and the corners of his lips turn upwards ever so slightly.

 That’s the closest to a smile she’s seen on him so far.

 ‘No, guess not.’

 ‘So, you gonna tell me?’

 His hands come to a still. He frowns, then grins. ‘That’s for you to find out.’

 Right.

 Kie has two options here –  fall back, make her tea and leave, not cause any trouble, be the best possible flatmate she could be so they don’t kick her out. If JJ doesn’t like her, that’s on him. It’s also probably what he’s expecting, for her to do all the work.

 A smile flutters on her lips. Kie has never been one for choosing the passive option.

 ‘What’s your deal?’ she asks, pulling her mug up to her chest. ‘Having a bad day?’

 He looks at her with his head tilted a little; she’s pretty sure there’s annoyance written in the wrinkle between his brows, tiredness in his bright eyes. ‘Have I not made that clear enough? What’s with all the questions?’

 ‘Dunno.’ She shrugs, holding her mug to her chest. ‘We’re living together, shouldn’t we try to get to know each other?’

 ‘I don’t really care, to be honest.’

 He might’ve as well just slapped her across the face. She blinks and swallows the sudden lump in her throat. ‘Right.’

 JJ puts the new sandwich on a plate and he starts walking out of the kitchen when he turns on his heel, sighing. ‘Okay, what’s your deal, then? Why’d you come all the way here from Outer Banks on such a short notice? What are you running from?’

 The blue light is behind JJ, softening his silhouette and making him look like he’s glowing. Menacing or benevolent, Kie would go for the former. Her blood runs cold and that’s not a feeling she wants to experience in her new home.

 (But the way he’s looking at her, it’s not menacing. It’s curious – it’s as if he wants to gauge her reaction more than the answer itself.)

 What are you running from?

 Instead of giving him what he wants, Kie takes a sip of her tea and ignores the liquid scorching her tongue. ‘That’s for you to find out.’

 JJ raises his eyebrows and she thinks she sees a smile betraying him in the corners of his lips, shaking his head. ‘See?’

 ‘See what?’

 ‘Questions,’ he says, ‘they’re too much.’

 He’s the type of guy Kie usually cannot stand – full of self-assurance and bravado that may or may not be real. He also knows how to get someone like Kie, usually very vocal and confident, into tripping over her own words.

 At a loss for words, she squeezes herself into the counter so he can pass between her and the chair, when his head tilts, nose scrunched, and his eyes glancing at her hair. ‘Do we have the same shampoo?’

 ‘Oh, I used some of yours,’ she replies, pressing her mug even closer to her chest, forcing herself to not look away from him. ‘Sorry. I didn’t have my own, but I’ll get it tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind.’

 ‘It’s fine, just don’t do it again.’

 ‘Okay.’

 He turns around the island counter and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to sit there and her mind starts wondering whether that would make her want to stay in the kitchen more or less. But he keeps walking and nods at her from the entrance into the corridor, muttering an almost inaudible ‘goodnight.’

 Kie waits for about a minute, sipping her tea, before she turns off the fairy lights and goes back to her room.

 (She thinks about how fluffy JJ’s hair is when dry; how deep the circles under his eyes looked under the intensity of the blue light; about the tension in his shoulders that was present the entire time she was in the kitchen.)

 She plops into her bed, finishing off her tea. Her phone’s still on the desk, now fully charged, calling to her.

 It’s been nearly a whole day. Dragging it out will make the whole thing more painful than it already is, so she takes it in her hands, and holds the button on the side.

 Kie spends the next fifteen minutes scrolling through the sea of messages her parents have drowned her phone in. Not just her parents – there’s messages from aunts and uncles, great aunts and cousins, both sets of grandparents as well. Much like she expected, instead of keeping their problems to themselves, her parents made them everybody else’s.

 Some of the messages were encouraging – her dad’s mum told her to stay safe and smart and return home whenever she’s ready; her mum’s sister said that she understands her choice. Some were the exact opposite – a lot of them called her ungrateful, or attention seeking, or childish and irresponsible.

 The worst one was from her mother. Granted, it was followed by an apology and a change of attitude, but the message is clear.

 If you really think you’re ready to leave, be ready to make it permanent.

 Kiara goes to sleep with one thought on her mind, and it’s that even with a housemate she doesn’t like, and one that she doesn’t know, and being on completely foreing ground, moving to Kildare was the smartest decision of her fucking life.

  ★

  next chapter

[raleighcarrera]

everywhere we go

ride or die | colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler)

everywhere we go / we're the kings and queens and we run this city

ellie comes back to l.a. colt’s been saving a place for her. for @rodappreciationweek day 4 (mc day!)

tags: @choicesarehard, @lovehugsandcandy, @pixeljazzy, @theeccentricbibliophile, @troublemakerinspace, @zigtheeortega, @beccadavenport 

~6.1k words | E (18+)

she was ready.

she’d spent a long time running, but all of that was over, now. 

ellie was coming home.

truth be told, she’d been itching to come back to l.a. for months. as the date of her graduation loomed she found herself less and less interested in her last semester, unmotivated to finish her assignments and avoiding the college parties that had once seemed so fun.

she found herself blowing off classes, work and club meetings so she could take her car out of the city and push it to its limits on the highway, waiting for the speed to top out. making sure she hadn’t gotten rusty.

before she knew it, the day she’d been waiting four long years for had arrived.

ellie took her car straight to colt’s when she drove back, not even bothering to stop home first and unload the entire contents of her dorm, which were still piled into her backseat. she’d been by enough since he’d opened up to know where she was going without her gps, and took the familiar route across the city with an eager smile on her face.

summers back in l.a. -- trips here and there when she could, when she wasn’t working -- had gotten her intimately acquainted with the new shop. the new crew. when she was back on the west coast, ellie spent more time hanging around with colt than she did at home, though there was nothing new there. 

he was waiting for her outside when her car pulled up, and she drove past him into the shop, into the parking space that wasn’t technically hers but that he always left open for her car regardless of what point in the year they were in. a few people she recognized were hanging around working on something, and some of the new crew even called out to her excitedly when she got out of her car, but ellie ignored them, rushing back outside.

she flung herself into colt’s arms with a squeal, burrowing her face into the side of his neck. his arms tightened around her almost to the point of pain and he lifted her up effortlessly, swinging her around before setting her back on her feet and dipping her body low with a searing, knee-weakening kiss. 

when he pulled away, the look in his eyes was suspiciously soft. he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “i can’t believe you’re home for good.”

ellie grinned at him. home. she really was. warmth coursed through her slowly, her whole body alight as she basked in the naked affection on his face. “i missed you so much.”

he sighed, sliding his hands down from her arms to her waist and pulling her in closer. “me, too.” then his lips spread into a gleeful smirk. “wait ‘til you see what i did.”

that level of unguarded excitement, coupled with the tone of his voice, certainly spelled danger. she’d gotten very few updates while she’d been away on his progress -- it wasn’t safe to talk about any of it over the phone, so for the most part, when she was in new york she’d been kept in the dark where the new crew was concerned.

except for when she was back in california, and colt spent most of the time she was around trying to impress her. then he let her see everything.

he grabbed her hand and pulled her back inside. the rest of the crew looked up when she entered. one of the boys laughed at her from the floor. 

“let’s try this again,” jamie said, “hi, ellie. congrats on graduating.”

she smiled. “thanks. i’m glad to be back.” her eyes fell on a pair of long legs in black jeans poking out from underneath a car. “is that raven? can’t you stop for two seconds to say welcome back?”

a pretty girl with dark hair slid out from under the mclaren she was working on and arched her eyebrows at ellie. “welcome back,” she said obligingly, “but the boss said i have to have this mod done by the end of the day.” 

ellie cut colt a questioning look, and he shrugged. “we have a drop tonight. come on, i’ll get you up to speed.” 

with one last wave to the rest of the team, she followed colt to his office, eager to get started. though he’d absolutely laugh at her if she said so, being back and seeing everyone felt like the first day of school.

he shut the door behind her, and ellie let go of his hand to take a look around, reacquainting herself with the space she’d absolutely already seen every inch of up close before. but... something was different, and she gasped as soon as she noticed what it was. 

since she’d been here last, he’d shifted everything over to make room for a second desk, which was empty, save for a photo of the two of them taped to the side of it. ellie walked over and ran her hand along the smooth surface of the wood. “is this for me?”

colt leaned against his own desk and smiled at her. he looked pretty proud of himself. “yeah. figured you should have your own space in here.”’

she turned around and closed the distance between them swiftly, pushing him into his desk chair. then ellie climbed into his lap and kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “i love you,” she murmured against his lips, shivering when his hands settled on the small of her back and pushed up underneath her shirt.

colt made a noncommittal noise against her lips, running his fingers reverently over the bare skin of her sides. “i really should tell you about the drop,” he said, though the tone of his voice sounded completely uncaring. 

“in a minute.” her hands slid into his hair and angled his head in for another kiss before he could protest; as expected, the second sound he exhaled into her mouth was much more agreeable, a low undercurrent of excitement running through it.

his fingertips grazed over the line of her spine and slipped around to her hips, holding her tightly on top of him. ellie rocked down to meet his movements eagerly, careless of the fact that she’d been driving for six hours straight before she came here and that she’d last slept in some weird hotel in nevada where she’d had to wash her hair with body wash instead of shampoo because that was all she had.

judging by the way he was eyeing her, when their mouths broke apart so she could catch her breath, he hadn’t noticed any of that.

“jesus christ,” he mumbled against her lips, sending a shiver straight down to her toes, “can’t believe we can do this whenever we want forever.”

he had a point. it seemed surreal that she wouldn’t have to drive back to new york in a week, in three months -- ever again. ellie’s face split into a blinding grin. “i know. but we totally can.”

colt lifted one hand to her face, cupping her cheek. she held his gaze as he stroked his thumb softly across her skin, holding still while he studied her. not for the first time, she wondered what he was thinking -- it was always something, when he looked at her like that. 

“it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good to finally fill you in on everything,” he said, his voice low. she nodded. “i can’t wait to see you behind the wheel again.”

“yeah?” she asked playfully, arching her eyebrows, “been thinking a lot about getting me in one of these fancy cars, huh?”

“not so much these,” colt smirked, “but other ones -- definitely. after this drop, there’s a plan i want your opinion on.”

“‘kay,” ellie answered agreeably, already leaning back in to catch his lips in another kiss. colt kept his hand on her steady and met her halfway, his teeth biting down on her bottom lip in a way that was a little sharper than strictly necessary; after so long without the firm pressure of his hands, his mouth, his body -- it felt incredible.

she twisted her fingers in his t-shirt, rocking her hips forward insistently again. the solid weight of him beneath her was, on its own, an out-of-this-world sensory experience; she’d imagined this moment dozens of times. when she was her most homesick and lonely at school, it was the only thing she could think about -- how he would sound when she jumped into his arms, the way he smelled, the sounds he made, the feeling of his lips against hers.

now that it was here it was almost overwhelming, especially since they had to work tonight, and they were short on time again. 

the noise level out in the garage was starting to rise, making it harder to ignore. colt sighed heavily as she started inching the hem of his t-shirt up, squeezing her bare thigh in his hand. his head flopped back against his desk chair.

“i want to take you apart,” he said. the focus in his voice made her mouth dry. it was a tone that, before now, had been reserved for the directions he’d give during a late-night striptease over her webcam. now it was something between a threat and a promise, pressing on her raw nerves just right, so that she smiled at him when he groaned and continued, “...after the drop.”

with one last pointed wiggle of her hips, ellie slid out of his lap and extended her hand to pull colt up, too. “come on, let’s see this mod.” 

a few members of the crew shot her knowing grins as they both made their way over to the car, ellie tugging her shorts back into place and colt smoothing a hand over his hair. in the corner of the room, raven was standing off to the side of the mclaren, waiting for colt’s approval. he stepped around her to open the driver’s side door for ellie and she slid inside, pretending like she knew what she was looking for. 

colt leaned in from where he was standing beside the open door with a grin. “it’s been tuned.”

“i know,” she answered defensively, running her hands along the steering wheel. “how fast is it now?”

raven was looking at her fingernails where she stood next to colt. she sounded almost bored when she shrugged, “zero to sixty in under two seconds. runs quarter miles in eight.”

her eyebrows arched high. “wow.”

“we did the tires, too.” colt’s eyes looked her over where she was sitting in the front seat, his gaze so heavy she could feel it along every inch of her body. “you impressed yet?”

“well...” already her pulse was picking up speed as she imagined getting the car out on the highway, putting it to its limits. “can i test it before i give my final verdict?”

raven beamed at her. “i was hoping you’d say that.” she pushed colt out of her way and ran around to the car’s passenger side.

“hey!” raven paid him absolutely no attention as she slipped into the other seat and buckled her seatbelt. “who said you were going with her?”

“come on, you’ll get to drive it later when you do the drop.” she gestured at herself where she was buckled in, “and i’m already here.”

ellie pulled the door shut, waving at colt through the open window as raven did the same. “we’ll be right back.”

as anticipated, the mclaren was fast enough to make her scream. the highway heading out of the city was empty so late in the day, and she wasted no time testing the engine, exhaling heavily as soon as the speedometer hit one-ten.

finally, it felt like she could breathe again.

there was absolutely nothing in the world that compared to this. away at college, she’d chased the adrenaline high that came with fast cars and danger and found nothing even remotely close -- this was exactly where she was meant to be. out here, with the world racing past her, it felt like she was herself again, instead of the person she had to pretend to be in front of her dad, her classmates at school, her professors. 

finally, she was free.

“so?” raven called over to her, the wind from the rolled down windows whipping her hair around her face, “how’d i do?”

“this is incredible,” ellie gushed, her shoulders relaxing back against the fancy leather seat. it seemed surreal to think about how the car they were in was worth more than ten times her college tuition -- so she tried not to. “colt is going to die when he tries it.”

“he’d better, he’s been a fucking tyrant lately.” out of her peripheral vision, she saw raven roll her eyes. ellie took the next exit, swiftly navigating the turn that’d take them back to the shop. “thank god you’re back. dealing with him since you left after spring break has been impossible.”

“come on, he can’t have been that bad.” though there was fondness in her voice, she was absolutely sure he had been that bad. ellie could see it in his eyes every time they spoke over a video call -- he was just as anxious for her to get back as she was to come back. 

he’d always handled her being away poorly, but with the end in sight, he’d definitely been... spiraling. like her, things for him only seemed to get worse as the date of her graduation drew closer.

raven snorted. “you don’t even believe yourself. whatever. trust me, we’re all thrilled to have you here full-time.”

everyone was standing around in the shop staring as she parked the mclaren and hopped out. “what’s the verdict?” colt asked when she came closer with the key fob.

“it’s crazy,” ellie praised, shooting him a genuine smile. “so fast. you’re going to love it.”

colt hummed, nodding at raven from over the car. “shame we have to give it to that rich prick grusk.”

a look of shock took over her face. “this car is for devon grusk?”

“yeah.” he sighed. “gotta take it all the way to hidden hills tonight. pain in the ass.”

“what does an old loser like devon grusk want with a car like this one, anyway?” jamie asked, leaning forward to place his elbows on the hood. raven reached over and shoved him off, and ellie watched his arms windmill for a moment before he regained his balance with a smirk. “he’s already married to a supermodel. can’t be about bagging chicks.”

“as long as he pays up, i don’t give a shit what he does with it.” colt wrapped his arm around her waist, and ellie leaned against his shoulder, her eyes still on the car. “good work, raven. ellie and i will do the drop tonight and tomorrow afternoon we’ll start talking about the fillmore job. just keep everything else moving until then.”

there were murmurs of assent as the crew nodded and walked away. ellie watched colt slip the key fob to the mclaren into his pocket, and once they were alone, she said, “you didn’t even check her work.”

he shrugged. his fingers tapped on her hip, pushing up underneath her shirt to get to her bare skin. “if she impressed you, it’s ‘cause it was perfect.” ellie stared at him. “come on. if we leave now we can stop for dinner.”

colt pulled the car back out of the garage, and ellie felt her mind start to wander. something inside of her was undeniably pleased by his trust and approval -- he had let her word on the car be final. in front of everyone.

he’d always promised her, voice low over the phone late at night, half-asleep in his bed at home, that when she came back they’d pick up right where they left off. that nothing between them was ever going to change.

it’d been a worry of hers while she was away at school that’d only worsened with time; ellie had assumed he’d grow tired of waiting or bored of her demands and decide being with her wasn’t worth all of this -- but he never did.

colt had handled her more gently than she’d ever expected him to. when things in new york got so bad she couldn’t stop crying every time she picked up the phone, he’d said ellie, i fucking swear to you you’re the only goddamn thing that’s ever on my mind. 

part of her hadn’t let herself believe him. part of her had been convinced she’d have to prove herself to him all over again. part of her felt like she didn’t deserve his trust after she’d left him behind...

but most of her was just really, really happy, warmed by his faith in her. 

he noticed. “why are you looking at me like that?”

she rolled onto her side in the passenger seat, wiggling closer. “because i love you.”

colt blinked. she wondered if the words would ever stop surprising him. he shook his head. “i’m so fucking glad you’re going to be here for the fillmore job. there’s no way it won’t be perfect with you driving.”

ellie reached for the hand he had on the gearshift and laced her fingers through his, dragging her thumb across the back of his knuckles. two of them were split but almost all the way healed, making her wonder what he’d punched and when. “delaney’s a good driver. i’m sure it’s not anything she wouldn’t have been able to handle.”

“yeah, but she’s not you.” that, she understood. while the rest of the crew was great in their own right, and certainly full of people they could depend upon, there was something comforting in working with colt -- in knowing that there was another person who had her back from every angle, who’d rather die himself than ever let anything happen to her. 

“well, i’m excited to drive again. but -- knowing you, i’m sure you’ve mapped a route that’s difficult for no reason.” the laugh he gave, and the boyish grin that accompanied it, let her know that -- like always -- she had him pegged. 

“it’s not that bad.”

“let’s see -- we’re going through fillmore, so i’ll bet i have to... hop train tracks at the very least.” she paused, waiting for his facial expression to give some indication of whether or not she was hot or cold. colt just kept smirking at the road. “detour through the mountains, of course.”

“of course,” he said flatly, and as she narrowed her eyes at him, she saw one corner of his mouth twitch.

“ha!” ellie crowed triumphantly, “i knew it. it’s so cliche.”

he rolled his eyes at her. “whatever. your handle on the turns will be better than delaney’s would have.”

ellie shot him an unimpressed look. "i can’t imagine why. you’re such a good teacher.” 

“hey, i showed you the basics,” he shot back defensively, “the rest of it you mastered out of sheer determination to prove me wrong. and if that’s what it takes to motivate them, then i’m all for it.”

“yeah, but i had a crush on you,” she reminded him, pausing to smile down at their joined hands on the gearshift, where colt was squeezing her fingers. “so we were like -- flirting. everyone else probably thinks you’re just being a dick.”

colt scoffed, smoothly pulling them off the road and into an in-n-out parking lot. “it’s not like we’re the girl scouts. i shouldn’t have to coddle them.”

ellie finally dropped his hand so he could shift the car into park, stretching her arms out in front of her as she grinned, “that point would be a lot more effective if you weren’t literally wearing one of the matching bracelets i made everyone last summer.” 

“if you don’t shut your mouth, i’m not buying you a cheeseburger,” colt threatened, shaking the sleeve of his jacket down over his wrist. 

she laughed, gently closing the car door and stepping outside into the parking lot. from two spaces over, a boy their age gaped at her as ellie pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. 

“sick car.” he nodded at her, something condescending lurking in the edges of his crooked smile. “a little girl like you drives that thing?”

“hey, keep your fucking eyes to yourself,” colt said, before she could answer. ellie pressed her lips together to stifle a smile, wrapping her arm around his waist as he drew close. 

colt must’ve been in a pretty good mood, because he let her eat most of his fries without much complaining, only shoving her hand away twice before letting her at them, staring fixedly at her from across the booth they’d claimed. one of his hands absently rubbed at her bare calf where her legs were thrown in his lap.

ellie pried the top off her empty soda to fish out an ice cube from inside the cup. “raven said you’ve been a giant asshole all month.”

“i was kind of hoping they’d stop tattling on me to you now that you’re home.” 

over the last four years, she’d received a truly impressive number of phone calls complaining about colt. they were always innocently free of specific details -- just in case -- but descriptive enough to make her smile. funnily enough, when everyone started arguing was usually when she got the most homesick.

plus, it was kind of nice that not a single member of the new crew was too afraid of colt to call him a sociopath with unrealistic expectations or a narcissist with a god complex, screeching the words to ellie over the phone with deep exasperation.

“you could always just stop doing things worth tattling over,” she suggested, dragging the last of his fries through the too-large pile of ketchup she’d made before popping them in her mouth.

colt huffed at her from across the table. his thumbs dug into the muscle of her calf, massaging her skin. “i wasn’t that bad. it’s not like i stabbed anyone.”

“okay, that is not a measure we’re going to go by.” as an answer, he pushed her legs out of his lap, waiting for her to stand before grabbing her hand to lead her back outside. “and it’s not like i don’t know how cranky you get when i’m not here.”

“i don’t get cranky,” he said, in a tone that definitely sounded cranky to her. “it’s just easier to work when you’re around. you’re obviously an asset to the team.”

yeah. in between her junior and senior year, when things were really starting to pick up for the new crew, he’d practically begged her not to go back to school. colt had been adamant, and it’d been tempting -- the intensity of his gaze when he’d glared at her in his dark bedroom and said we need you here was permanently burned into the back of her mind.

“what time is it?” she asked abruptly, squinting into the setting sun. 

“six-fifteen.”

“and what time is the drop?”

“seven.”

ellie’s hand hovered over the handle of the car door. she looked up and met colt’s eyes where he was standing on the other side of the mclaren by the driver’s side door. then she arched her eyebrows deliberately, a slow smile taking over her face.

he caught on immediately, his reaction time as quick as ever. “we’ll be late,” he said decisively, slamming the door behind him as he ducked back into the car. ellie followed with a giggle, only able to spare a glance at the tinted windows before colt yanked her into his lap, wedging her body between him and the steering wheel.

as soon as her knees hit the seat on either side of his hips, colt’s mouth was on hers, kissing her urgently. ellie fumbled on the side of the seat to push it back, and he bit down on her bottom lip as the back dropped out abruptly, laughing when she pulled away with a hiss. “careful,” she scolded, though she yanked his shirt up just as roughly, pushing the fabric up his chest.

“please.” his mouth kissed across her jaw while his hands worked on the front of her shorts, “i’ve been thinking about this all week. if we didn’t have somewhere to be i’d rip these stupid clothes right off of you.”

ellie shivered where his hands pulled at the front of her shorts, though her mouth curved into a smirk when she heard him say, “but, seriously, a button fly?”

she laughed, reaching one hand out to his cheek and tilting his face up for a kiss. it was only a matter of seconds before she lost herself in the incredible feeling of kissing him again, her breath stuttering when his fingers dipped unceremoniously under the waistband of her underwear. 

“shit, el,” colt murmured against her mouth as they pressed up between her legs with practiced ease, “if i’d known you were so hard up for it --”

“oh my god, you’re insufferable,” she gasped, fumbling between their bodies to try to undo his own jeans, “i could kill you.”

“you wouldn’t.” it was dark in the car, though she could still make out the infuriatingly smug slope of his smile when he leaned in closer. “i bet you’ve been wet since you first took the car out, huh?”

her breath caught as his thumb finally found her clit, and ellie grit her teeth, rocking her hips forward desperately. “seriously, they’ll never find your body.”

“such an attitude. i’m literally being so nice to you right now.” as though to punctuate his point, he pressed his thumb in more firmly, rubbing quick circles against her. she could’ve punched the arrogant expression clear off his face.

“we don’t have time for this,” she huffed, each word wavering with a moan, “just fuck me, it’s been --”

“too fucking long,” he agreed, brows pinching together when she reached in his briefs and pulled his cock out. ellie flushed all over as he looked her up and down. “christ, you’re stunning.”

she leaned in to kiss him again, sighing into his mouth. her hips shifted above him and they both groaned in tandem when she started to sink down into his lap, her breath catching as her hands gripped his jacket tightly for purchase.

colt’s hips rose to meet hers and she felt the whole car rock with the movement. a low whine left her throat when they got the angle just right and she shook above him, doing her very best to keep as quiet as possible.

colt had no such qualms about their privacy. “that’s it, baby,” he murmured, his fingers dipping between her legs again, “you don’t wanna let ‘em hear you?”

ellie could feel her whole face burn bright red with a blush. it was taking everything she had to remember to watch her elbows near the steering wheel and the horn behind her back. “colt.”

“this’s every day, now,” he continued, twisting his hips viciously, “just me and you, running the whole city --”

her lips pressed desperately against his to muffle her moans, each heated kiss making her dizzy. what he was describing had felt like a fantasy for so long: the two of them back in l.a., running the operation together with anything and everything they could want at their fingertips...

but it was here, now. it was reality.

everything went fuzzy and quiet as she came with a gasp, her hips stuttering against his. ellie’s fingers twisted in his jacket and pulled him close, only distantly registering the sound of colt cursing and pulling her into him and whispering her name. 

when she opened her eyes, he was already staring at her. the look on his face was familiar, and, not for the first time, she felt like he was staring down into her soul -- seeing a part of her that only he had ever noticed. 

her lips split with a sweet smile. “you’re amazing.”

colt laughed, shaking his head. then the look was gone, replaced with a more common fondness, though it was still something that only ever came out around her. “you should see what else i have planned.”

“can’t wait,” she sighed, leaving one last gentle kiss on his lips before flopping back into the passenger seat with a groan. “let’s go, i want to unload this thing and get home. i need a shower so bad.”

he cut her a look as he merged back onto the freeway. “if you think they’re not putting together a welcome home party for you right now, you’re out of your mind.”

fuck. he was probably right. “ugh. well -- i guess it’ll be nice to spend some time with everyone.”

the smirk on colt’s face was amused. “the car’s not bugged, you know. they can’t hear you.”

“it will be!” ellie laughed, “i missed all of them, too. and you’re gonna be all about the fillmore job tomorrow, we won’t get to have any fun.”

“we can make time for whatever you want,” he shrugged, glancing down at the directions on his phone before accelerating, shifting the car into the center lane to move around someone else. “you weren’t kidding about this thing, huh?”

she shook her head. “it’s really nice. raven did a great job. hey -- that reminds me. a girl i knew from school said her boyfriend’s been out here scouting for a ride. i told her we’d take a meeting.”

“okay,” colt said easily, “set it up. you can lead.”

again, she was stunned. he said the words effortlessly, and like before, his trust made her stomach squirm happily. she couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever felt so anxious in such a good way, warm all over like she had been the very first time he’d insisted he saw something else in her, in the street outside of riya’s house after he’d kissed the hell out of her. 

there was no denying how good it felt to be thought of as capable, especially by him. but colt had always seen her potential and raised the stakes to meet it. he’d trusted her with this piece of him that was so important she sometimes still wondered why, but... for whatever reason, he had. 

he still did.

unsurprisingly, devon grusk lived in a gated community. ellie was jolted from her own thoughts as colt slowed the car through a security checkpoint, and while he navigated them smoothly to the waiting mansion at the end of the road she checked her reflection in the mirror, sliding her shirt back into place. 

all billionaires were the same. ellie was reminded why they did what they did as soon as colt handed the keys over; devon grusk was a slimy, pompous, arrogant douchebag. she bit her tongue as hard as she could while he inspected the car from every angle, cracking stupid, irritating jokes as he did so.

from behind her fake smile, she thought, i’m glad we had sex in your car, even as she politely took the backpack stuffed with money from his hands. 

“god, that guy sucks,” ellie sighed while they waited for their rideshare, leaning her head on colt’s shoulder.

from beside her, he made an agreeable noise, rubbing her side where his arm was slung around her waist. “wanna know a secret?”

it seemed unlikely that whatever followed that question was going to be good, but she still said, “sure.”

colt’s mouth widened into an obnoxious grin. “we’re going to steal twenty million dollars from him next week.”

ellie pulled back to gape at him. “what? is that what the fillmore job is? did you tell everyone else?”

“yes and no. but they’ll be stoked. you know this guy still hunts big game? who does that?” 

a black honda civic pulled up to the curb. colt smiled charmingly at her as he reached out to open the backseat door. ellie rolled her eyes back at him and slid inside, murmuring a polite hello to their driver.

“don’t think we’re done talking about this,” she said, as he climbed in next to her and pulled the door shut.

he pulled her closer with a laugh, pressing on her side until she leaned her head on his shoulder again. “wouldn’t dream of it. how was your drive this morning, anyway? you never told me.”

she always called when she got to the hotel, after she was done driving, but today she’d gone straight to colt’s, so he’d missed her hour-long debrief. “it was okay. i didn’t sleep well last night.” 

ellie told him all about the hotel in nevada and the long drive back to l.a. without omitting a single detail. before she knew it, they were back at the garage, and it was dark -- the early summer sun had finally set. she yawned as they made their way back toward the side door.

“i can’t wait to wake up with you tomorrow morning,” she sighed, mentally setting a reminder to call her dad at some point, too. “i’ll kill jordan if he wakes us up before ten using that jackhammer again.”

colt grabbed her arm before she could walk inside, halting her steps on the sidewalk outside of the garage. “hey.”

ellie turned, looking up at him with her eyebrows arched. “hi?”

he was staring again. she bit back a shiver as his gaze seemed to reach from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, something unidentifiable in the dark depths of his eyes. “just wanted to get a good look at you here. pretty soon everyone in the city’s gonna know your name.”

she probably shouldn’t have liked that as much as she did. there were definitely... complications she’d put off thinking about for as long as possible that she couldn’t ignore forever, problems she’d have to address sooner or later. 

but for now... it was admittedly a little thrilling to think about running the show by colt’s side. something they’d only talked about for so long was finally coming to fruition.

and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt like herself again. she felt perfectly at peace -- happy and safe and adored and understood, by someone who knew what she was worth and never assumed any less. 

this was exactly where she was supposed to be. ellie shook her hair back off her shoulders, smiling. “well? how do i look?”

“picture perfect.” he leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head, squeezing her arm before grabbing her hand again. “come on, before they bust.”

true, everyone inside the garage was practically vibrating with excitement when she threw open the door. “surprise!” they screamed in unison, reenergizing her from her exhaustion while she made the appropriate wide-eyed faces they were all expecting.

“she’s faking,” raven declared, and then everyone went back to talking to each other, the music turned up loud again. ellie relaxed heavily against colt’s chest when he stepped up behind her and pressed his mouth to the dip of her shoulder at the base of her neck.

“welcome home,” he murmured into her ear, shifting to stand beside her, instead. 

ellie turned her head and shot him a smile that widened exponentially when she saw how he was looking at her, his eyes soft and fond and impossibly sweet where they met hers. she was finally able to identify the emotions she hadn’t been able to place earlier in the evening: relief, at the fact that she was finally back; pride, at the way she was already doing so well and all his while she did it; and happiness -- no explanation needed.

“it’s really good to be back,” she answered, squeezing his hand. 

it’d been less than eight hours, but already, she meant it.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #252: DECIDING FACTOR!

February, 1985

Who on Earth is strong enough to smash Hercules? Hint: there’s two of them!

Well I have my guess but I happened to guess right so I won’t be sharing. Let’s sayyyyyyyy.... Más y Menos.

Its very rude of DCAU’s Más y Menos to be picking on Hercules. Maybe sí podemos but that doesn’t mean ustedes should.

Anyway.

Last times on Avengers, Vision walked through a null field created by Annihilus and promptly fell in a robot coma and had to be put in a tube. He regained consciousness and Starfox hooked him up to the Titan supercomptuer ISAAC after which Vision started behaving oddly. When half of the Avengers got back from Secret Wars, Vision convinced Wasp to step down as chairman and nominate him. He’s created a second branch of the team in California under Hawkeye’s leadership. He’s pushed the president into making the Avengers chair a member of the Cabinet. He hid Starfox’s secret sexy power from the rest of the team. And just last issue, it was revealed that Vision and ISAAC have built a take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device with Vision only lacking the will to pull the trigger on it.

So, uh, stuff is afoot.

Vision stuff. And, oddly enough, Doc Sampson stuff.

Vision is very impressed on seeing what seems to be Doc Sampson’s demo reel and offers him membership in the Avengers.

Doc Sampson turns him down because he doesn’t see himself as hero material and he already accepted an offer to join the faculty of Northwestern University.

Vision: “That needn’t rule you out, doctor! What would you say to heading a new, Midwestern branch of the Avengers? I should think you’re make an excellent group leader!”

Wow, Vision. You’re coming on a little strong there.

Midwest Avengers seems like the kind of thing that would be made up to spoof the expansion team idea, kinda like the Great Lakes Avengers of later. But if Vision seems desperate to get Doc Sampson to join the Avengers, well I think he is desperate.

Vision talked to ISAAC of his frustrations on trying to spread the power and influence of the Avengers. He has his take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device but he doesn’t seem to want to use it. So he’s trying to repeat the trick with the West Coast Avengers. Sign up more and more Avengers. If you told this era of Vision about the 50 State Initiative, he’d be all over it.

But Doc Sampson turns him down. For the best. God only knows who Vision would have finagled into being on the Midwest Avengers in Chicago.

Doc Sampson: I wonder if I made a mistake in turning down the Vision’s offer? Being part of such a team would have given me an opportunity to observe some highly unusual psyches up close. But, no... I could hardly maintain an impartial detachment in such a situation.

Yeah. A Doc Sampson led Chicago-branch would have been an implosion waiting to happen. And Sampson will get his chance to pick the brains of a superhero team later with X-Factor. He does not maintain an impartial detachment.

On his way out, Starfox very much wants to discuss this newspaper headline. As he’s from a more advanced space civilization that doesn’t have prejudice probably, this is very baffling to him.

He hasn’t been on Earth long enough to learn that “ANTI-MUTANT FEAR GRIPS U.S.” is Tuesday.

I wonder if it corresponds to anything going on in the X-books. I tried to look it up but the same month as this issue, X-Men was doing a Kulan Gath thing.

Anyway, Vision and Doc Sampson agree that anti-mutant fear gripping things is bad and could tear society apart.

So in case anyone was ever wondering: the Avengers officially think anti-mutant fear is whack.

Anyway, on the mansion’s back patio, Captain America and Scarlet Witch are just having some old friend hangout time.

It’s a nice moment, really.

Wanda is drinking tea and Cap is just sketching her because they’re comfortable enough friends to hang out in a tea sketch party.

Anyway, Cap is also familiar enough with Wanda to know that she’s well vexed.

And she admits that she’s well vexed by two things. Of course, by the new wave of anti-mutant phobia because it really seems like a cruel cycle where every time people seem like they’re chilling out or there’s a swell of tolerance, it just gets yanked back. A cruel yo-yo of intolerance.

Also, its happening when she’s having personal trouble with Vision. He’s keeping secrets and he has some really extreme moods.

Scarlet Witch: “One moment he’ll be friendly and open, and the next he’ll get so remote!”

I wonder if its possible for Hank Pym’s bipolar disorder to have skipped a generation and somehow been inherited by Vision. That’s entirely not how anything works but I dunno. That sounds like Hank.

Since Cap has been wondering about Vision’s behavior (he and Monica Marvel had a discussion about it in the previous issue, remember?), he agrees to go talk to Vision.

Vision is having solemn thoughts in the mansion’s library, having been upset by the Daily Bugle that Starfox was waving around.

Vision: The world is beset by so much strife. Humanity cries out for peace... Yearns for life and prosperity... but in the end it denies itself that which it most desires! Mankind might never put aside its prejudices. Too many have refused responsibility for their own actions. How can they be expected to save the world? And, yet, who am I -- a synthezoid, an artificial being -- to rail against men of flesh? My encephalatron command chair would give me the power to bring peace to the world... and yet I hesitate to use it! Can I find the courage... make the sacrifice necessary to use that power?

That’s when Cap wanders in to give Vision a talking to. A supportive, helpful talking to.

Since he assumes that what Vision has on his mind is the burdens of leadership, he confides that he knows how tough it can be to have to always make the right decision at a moment’s notice and that he’s here if Vision needs a sympathetic ear.

Vision admits that chairmanship isn’t what he expected. He’s not unaware of the strain that its putting on his marriage. Especially since he insisted that they rejoin the team when Wanda would have preferred to return to their civilian life in New Jersey.

Cap tells him just talk to her more, ya goof.

So this is a very nice conversation between friends and peers that Vision drops a bomb of a totally-a-hypothetical into.

Vision: “Cap, what would you do if you discovered that you could bring peace and prosperity to the entire world... but only at the cost of your personal well being, perhaps of your own existence?”

Cap: “What?!”

Vision: “We have all put our lives on the line many times to stop world-threatening menaces, but it occurs to me that we’ve seldom tried to do anything to cure the world of its ills.”

Cap: “We do what we can, Vision. There are no fast and simple ways to eliminate want or fear.”

Vision: “But what if there were a way to insure a lasting peace to the world, to bring about a new golden age? What if you could only bring it about by sacrificing yourself? What if you could make the world a paradise, but you could never enjoy it yourself? Could you do it?”

Cap: “It pains me to say this, Vision, but I honestly don’t know. I don’t believe I could know unless the situation actually presented itself. Life should never be given up lightly, but... if there were a way to truly save the world... I’d like to think that I’d make the sacrifice. But I’d have to be certain that it would work!”

Vision: “Yes... Yes, there could be no room for doubt.”

I do really like the slow unfolding of whatever Vision’s Supervillain Actually Its Well-Intentioned plan is. His doubts and how he poses a very specific hypothetical to Cap to see what The Iconic Avengers Leader thinks.

At this point my guess is that Vision is going to turn himself into a supercomputer like ISAAC to take over the world, for its own good. Since it was apparently inspired when he was plugged into a supercomputer and was running the mansion.

Anyway, Wanda runs in and interrupts the totally-a-hypothetical discussion with big, alarming news that their house from the Vision and Scarlet Witch series is on fire.

That’s rough.

By the time Wanda, Vision, and emotional support Captain America show up, the ire is unstoppable and the firefighters just let it burn down.

That’s rougher.

Later, Vision and Wanda pick through the smouldering rubble.

And worse of all, this wasn’t a random electrical or grease or magic fire. It was arson. And the arsonist even called the cops to make sure everyone knew it.

Scarlet Witch: “So! I should have known! The blind, unreasoning fools! Do I have to fight them for the rest of my life?!?” This is so maddening! Losing my temper won’t bring our house back... all I’ve done is frighten the neighbors. That’s always been the biggest problem in being a mutant... No one will let you act human.

=(

Some random bystanders basically gloat that the “weirdies are finally leaving” causing Captain America to go off.

Captain America: “For your information, mister, those ‘weirdies’ have saved your hide a dozen times over! They’ve fought and bled so you could have a home!”

Bystander: “N-now hold on, Cap! Me, I don’t have anything against ‘em... but why’d they have to move into my neighborhood? I mean, all our houses coulda caught fire from that blaze! This never woulda happened, if they hadn’t moved here!”

Captain America: “Mister, today somebody decided that he didn’t like mutants. Tomorrow, maybe someone will decide he doesn’t like blacks... or jews... or you! We’re all in this together. The American dream has to be there for everyone, or it can never truly work for anyone! It’s our duty to do everything we can to make sure it works!”

I doubt Bystander is very convinced. Maybe momentarily shamed. But in an hour he’ll be like “am I wrong about mutants? No, its the tolerant people who are wrong.”

But Vision... Vision has made up his mind.

Vision: ‘Do I have the right to take over the world for its own good?’

Vision: ‘Moral quandary resolved.’

The next morning, Vision has exciting new terrible news for the team. The US Army Corp of Engineers have dug up Thanos’ secret base in Arizona from his first appearance in Iron Man #55. And despite Vision protesting how dumb it is to poke unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal, the Department of Defense is having the army poking unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal.

Captain America: “Blazes! I believe in a strong defense as much as anyone, but the hardware Thanos used is way out of the army’s league!”

Starfox: “Perhaps more than even you can imagine, Cap! My brother Thanos was a ravager of worlds... he coveted power and worshiped death! His hidden base could well hold the means to rip this planet asunder!”

Cool, cool.

Man, I hate it when the US Army blew up the world in 1985 by poking alien gewgaws.

Anyway, Vision did manage to talk the government into allowing a small group of Avengers to act as advisers.

Instead of rounding up scientific geniuses slash superheroes like they did for Bruce Banner’s lab, Vision just selects everyone he has handy.

He says he’d like to assign the West Coast Avengers (who in fairness do have two scientific experets - Mockingbird and Wonder Man, kinda) but they’re busy with an off-panel mission in the Pacific. Just because they don’t have a book doesn’t mean they stop doing stuff.

So instead Vision selects Captain America, Hercules, Scarlet Witch, and Starfox (who in fairness is a great choice since he knows space science and Thanos) and sends them off.

Yeah. Vision is totally going to get up to stuff while they’re gone.

This foreboding is enhanced when Captain Marvel shows up and Vision tells her he has a special assignment for her.

Vision: “Our deep space monitor has picked up some disturbing signals -- that seems to be emanating from Sanctuary II, the starship which once belonged to the mad Thanos! After the arch-fiend’s final defeat, we left his ship to drift beyond the orbit of Pluto!”

Since she’s the fastest Avenger he asks her to leave at once, fly out to the ship to check it out, and then report back.

So. Light is the fastest thing, the speed limit of the universe. Give or take tachyons which are FTL and also hypothetical. And I don’t know if Captain Marvel can turn into tachyons. Point being, the speed of light is really friggin fast but the universe is really friggin big. Even something as ‘close’ as our solar backyard where Pluto is located is 4.9 billion miles away and takes light 4.6 hours to get there from Earth.

He is definitely getting Captain Marvel out of the way where even her nyoom will take a while to get back.

The Vision slowly stalks through the corridors of Avengers Mansion. On the second floor, he pauses before the door of the quarters he for so long shared with his wife... recalling past joys and sorrows. And then, he moves on -- solemnly descending the grand staircase, as if for the final time.

O_O

Uh...... plus side is that he gives Jarvis the day off to take his mother to Montauk Point!

I just like seeing Jarvis in Avengers.

He’s always around but only occasionally seen.

My god. His vacation clothes though.

Of course, Vision being nice to Jarvis who deserves good things is only partially because Jarvis is a cool guy who deserves nice things.

Vision has managed at this point to clear everyone out of the mansion and he locks the doors behind Jarvis so that NO ONE CAN INTERRUPT WHAT HE MUST DO.

Meanwhile, team ‘prevent the military from doing anything stupid’ arrives in Arizona and at the site of Thanos’ former base.

Huh. I was half and half on whether Vision was just making shit up to get the Avengers out of the house but I guess something really is going on.

Makes sense. If they went there and found nothing, they’d return too soon.

I wonder if there’s something really going on with Thanos’ ship Sanctuary II too.

If so, was it just a great coincidence that Vision had two different emergencies he could divert the team with the day after he decided to go through with his plan or is it just the Avengers’ lot that there’s constantly emergencies going on and he had his pick of them?

Anyway. Colonel Farnam of the US Army is convinced that they have everything under control at Operation: Prize Package and don’t need any Avengers supervision.

Colonel Farnam: “If we can figure out how just a fraction of this gear works, the United States will never again need fear an enemy power!”

Captain America: “I’m told that similar sentiment was expressed following the development of the crossbow, Colonel.”

Nice sass, Cap.

But, like, the instant that the Avengers are escorted inside the base, Starfox spots some technicians messing with a machine to see what it does and they tell him to screw off when he tells them not to mess with things they don’t understand.

Starfox: “GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

Scientist: “What are you, crazy?! We’ve spent twelve hours trying to goose this transmitter to life... we’re not going to stop now!”

He has to drag them away from a sudden energy surge as the machine activates by itself with a programmed homing signal that will bring Something to the base.

Colonel Farnam: “Now hold it right there, Avenger! Only my men are authorized to monkey with these machines!”

Starfox: “Colonel, I was raised among machiens such as these! If I can’t fix these settings, your men don’t stand a chance!”

Colonel Farnam: “I don’t care if you were raised in... GOOD LORD!”

Geez. It may have been partially a ruse to get the Avengers out of the house but its a good thing Vision sent the Avengers here. The US Army was clearly going to doom the world unsupervised.

GOOD JOB RANDOM SCIENTISTS

NOW HERCULES IS GETTING HIS ASS KICKED

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED, YOU MONSTERS??

Anyway, the Blood Brothers are some Thanos minions from early days. Weird that they never showed up for the MCU. Like, look, they didn’t need to be part of the Black Order. They don’t have the theme naming.

But these two dinguses would have made great antagonists in one of the earlier movies.

Though Starfox and Hercules get wrecked for being the nearest to the Blood Brothers when they appear, Cap and Scarlet Witch do better for being slightly forewarned.

Captain America can do the backflips to keep from getting punched and Wanda’s do anything powers are as helpful as always.

Meanwhile, back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman (sometimes the Black Knight, sometimes just exhausted), arrives and tries to use his old Avengers ID card to enter.

The security system does not like that.

Anyway, back in Arizona, Starfox rejoins the fight. That’s good.

Wanda tries to do her patented ‘all oxygen play keep away from this guy’ move on one of the Blood Brothers but his super strength lets him slam the ground to break Wanda’s concentration.

The other Blood Brother tries to strangle Captain America who got knocked into a pile of rubble but Hercules emerges from underneath the rubble to do that greatest of comic book tropes.

Ah, grievous harm with a body. How I love you.

But though the Blood Brothers heads are hard enough to knock each other out, the fight did do some lasting damage.

TO MY PERCEPTION OF HERCULES!

When the Blood Brothers beat the shit out of Hercules at the beginning of the fight, they apparently tore his Hercules skirt.

And Hercules isn’t wearing anything under his Hercules skirt.

So the other three Avengers get to see Hercules’ mighty adamantine mace, so to speak.

That’s all well and good.

Except its not!

Hercules? Being ashamed of public nudity??

That doesn’t sound like the Hercules I know!

Tsk tsk, how retroactively out of character! Annnnd possibly not retroactively? Didn’t he compete in the original Olympics which were no pants allowed?

You’ve corrupted him, modern society!

Anyway.

Captain America starts yelling at the colonel because if the Avengers hadn’t been here, it would have been a major disaster.

Captain America: “You were warned -- Washington was warned -- that something like this could happen! But those warnings were almost totally ignored!”

But back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman wakes up and sees this argument being broadcast on a jumbo screen.

Vision: “People never listen to those who know better! I shall have to change all that!”

Vision: “Hello, Dane. I’m sorry you had to be incapacitated. But your arrival was most unexpected... and I really can’t afford any interruptions now! You see, I have to save humanity from itself!”

Something about you seems different, Vision.

Did you become one with the universe? It’s a pretty popular move.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because whoa what huh? Vision what? Also, like and reblog. Its necessary to save humanity from itself.

[baby-grayson]

Sweet Enigma: Part 3

Word Count: 2716

Tags: @wheezeatmedolans​ @styles-dolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @evergreendolan​ @baby-turtles​ @dolanstacoma​ @kombuchagray​ @not-gbd​ @graysavant​ @someonetogray​ @dolansficsandpics​ @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high​

The Thanksgiving after the summer they met, Kate went home to Philly to see her mother, grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins for the first time since she moved to California. She felt comforted by the warm aroma of pumpkin soup and the familiar sound of her family’s chatter. Her inner peace was disturbed when her young cousin Daisy, who was nearly twelve at the time, excitedly asked Kate if she had met a celebrity while in LA.

Kate stuttered. She grabbed her glass of cranberry juice and drank it, a little too willingly, as she tried to think of her answer. Her bottom jaw stammered against her top lip. In the months prior, she tried hard to push any images, memories, and thoughts of Grayson to the back corner of her mind. In that moment, a part of her wanted to scream to her family: to tell them every detail about how Grayson Dolan had single handedly caressed and destroyed her heart that summer.

Her top lip hit her bottom once with a smack. She looked Daisy in the eyes with a pointed look and told her cousin, matter of factly, “No. I have not met a single celebrity. Guess I’m not cool enough.”

***

Grayson’s tiny house sat nestled in a picturesque corner of the New Jersey woods. The A frame home looked like it had been stolen from the sketches in an aged copy of Grimm’s fairytales. The little cottage wore large windows on the front and back, situated on dark timber siding between two slanted roof pieces. The tiny home was one of Grayson’s most prized possessions: he designed it himself and built most of it with the help of his uncle Brian.

Upon entering the house, the front door was fixed between a door on the left, the coat closet, and a door on the right, the bathroom. A stairway sat against one of the slanted roof pieces, leading to a lofted bed. Beneath the stairway, the fridge, stove, sink, and counter were nestled across the hall from a square dining table, two chairs, and a small fireplace. At the very back of the house sat a two-seater sofa that Grayson built himself. The intimate interior smelled of cedarwood, cinnamon, and a hint of bergamot. When the fireplace was lit, the entire home was covered in a dim, golden light.

The tiny home was Grayson’s cozy, New Jersey get away from the LA experience. On that January morning, the home was Grayson’s only escape from the hurricane of commitment, emotions, and responsibilities he left brewing on the west coast.

If Kate wasn’t exhausted and spent from the overnight cross-country plane ride, she would have congratulated Grayson on the home and complimented his craftmanship. Instead, she dropped her backpacks with a sigh and leaned against the closet door.

Grayson dropped his own duffel bag on the dining table, one of the only surfaces in the small space and turned to look at her, “Tired?” When Kate nodded in response, Grayson felt a pang of guilt. Since he had busted through her laboratory door last night, he had not stopped feeling guilty for the positions he was putting her in. Grayson nodded toward the lofted bed, “Go sleep, I’ll make something for dinner.”

Kate shook her head, still leaning against the closet door. She fought to keep her eyes open, her body slowly slumping into the door frame as if it was a feather mattress, “This is your house,” her words nearly slurred, “You take the bed.”

Grayson ran a hand through his hair and waved the other in front of him at a slightly angle, “No,” his voice was light, “I dragged you along with me. The least I can do is—”

“You didn’t drag me anywhere,” Kate corrected, her tone laced with sass, “I’m here because I want to be here.”

Grayson exhaled and forced himself not to role his eyes, “Okay, so you’re my guest. And the least I can do is let you take the bed.” He turned slightly and pointed at the loveseat at the back of this house, “I’ll take the sofa tonight.” Kate weighed this option in her mind for a moment, her eyes shifting between Grayson, the couch, and the loft.  

Before she could speak, Grayson started again, “Are you telling me you would prefer the cramped couch to a real person sized bed?”

Kate chuckled, her tired brain finally understanding what she was fighting for, “You’re right.” She exhaled and lifted a backpack over her arm. As she started up the stairs, Grayson’s phone began to ring.

He stared at it in his palm. He bit his lip, asking himself what the consequences would be of not answering it. He realized that running to his tiny home, did not mean running away from his problems. He held the phone to his ear, “Hello?”

Elizabeth Maddox’s voice met Grayson’s ears with the signature sound of the honey tongued Southern belle. Grayson’s previous conversations with Elizabeth, his would be mother-in-law, were all incredibly cordial and polite. Grayson would have thought the woman cold, if she wasn’t constantly undressing him with hungry eyes. Elizabeth’s long nails were almost always either wrapped around an ice-cold glass or pointed at someone who had done her wrong. “Oh, Grayson dear,” her accent was thick, “We need to chat about whatever this little…episode…is that you are dealing with.”

Grayson sucked in his top lip and rolled his eyes, grateful that she was not in the room to see his reaction, “I’m sorry for what happened Mrs. Maddox.”

Kate had just settled herself on the lofted bed when she heard his voice. Intrigued, she shuffled forward and sat at the end of the bed. The tiny home was tiny enough that she could listen to his conversation without trying, so she figured she should at least get comfy.

“Now Grayson, I told you to call me Elizabeth,” Grayson sat at the bottom of the stairs as she spoke, “But we really do need to talk.” Her voice was haughty and superior, “I think I have the advice you need to hear.”

Grayson nearly spat out a laugh, he wondered if his impish grin was noticeable through his words, “Oh really?” “It’s just cold feet Grayson,” Elizabeth spoke with confidence, “Everyone gets them.” Grayson raised an eyebrow from where he sat on the stairs, resting an arm on his knee as she continued, “Even Calvin did before he married me—he ran off with some stripper from Orlando before his best man knocked some sense into the old fool.” She adjusted the phone in her hand before continuing, “I know Sherry will forgive you darling, just like I forgave old Calvin back in the day: it’s what good wives do. And I know you are marrying Sherry because she’ll be a good wife,” Grayson felt a heat ignite in his neck. “You know she loves you Grayson, we all love you—I almost with we could stamp Maddox on your birth certificate, that’s how much we love you.”  

Grayson’s blend of embarrassment, shame, and perturbation boiled over, he spoke sharply over her, “I appreciate your help, Elizabeth.” He pronounced the syllables of her name with specific enunciation, “Thanks for calling, we should talk soon” Without waiting for her response, he hung up the phone.  

He exhaled and hung his head between his knees, disappointed in himself for not handling the phone call better—for not handing everything better. He heard a rustling noise and looked over his shoulder to find Kate settling down on the step behind him, one leg stretched around him and laying on his step. “Hey,” her voice was soft: comforting but shy.

He bit his lip, not facing her, “Hey.”

Kate’s eyes skirted around the scene, noticing how his hands went limp and his neck held tension. She lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, “It’s going to be okay.” Grayson turned his head to face her, meeting her eyes. He tightened his mouth, “You think so?” Kate nodded softly, “Yeah,” her voice was breathy, “Not right away. But it will be.” She thumbed his shoulder softly, drawing little circles. He kept her gaze, finding so much familiar comfort in her gold flecks.

Kate broke their silent first, “Did you really—” she cleared her throat, “Did you break up with her? Like actually?”

Grayson shook his head. Another pang of guilt shot through his body when he saw the disappointment hit Kate’s eyes. She stopped thumbing his shoulder, “I saw her,” he swallowed, “When I went to get my clothes from the house.” He exhaled in a low tone, “She’s upset.” Kate let out an egregious chuckle, “Yeah, I would be too.” Grayson gave her a flat look, not finding humor in the situation, “We’re not broken up—at least—I don’t think. She was still wearing her ring.” Kate nodded, sucking in her upper lip, “Tough.” Grayson nodded and exhaled. He shifted his body to lean against the wall, facing Kate from one side. They sat like that, a few inches away from being tangled up on the steps but far away from each other.

It was at that moment that Grayson realized he was not looking at the girl he met two and a half years ago. He was looking at a stranger who shared the same body with the Kate he knew, but who’s mind was decorated in new experiences and different emotions. He ran a hand through his hair and wondered if there was a maximum amount of guilt that could reside in a single human body.

He caught her eye as his hand landed on the back of his head, “That guy,” he started, “Back at your apartment. That’s your boyfriend,” he meant for it to be a question, but it sounded like a statement.

Kate nodded slowly, “Yeah, he is.” She bit the corner of her mouth and started exploring the tiny home with her eyes, “His name is Wesley,” she shifted on her step, “We met last summer.”

“He treats you well?” “Better than you ever did,” Kate’s eyes met Grayson’s as she formed a playful smirk. Grayson’s mouth fell slightly agape, he rolled his eyes when she started to chuckle. “I deserved that.” “No,” her tone became light, “You didn’t.” She rubbed a hand against his back, “I know better than to kick a man when he’s down.” She looked at her hand on the small of his back, something about it sent her mind ablaze with memories of his bare skin underneath her fingertips. She quickly retracted her hand and began to play with the hem of her sweatshirt.

“Is it serious?” Grayson felt his thoughts slip into treacherous territory, but decided it was better to face them in his current state than a day when he was in a better mood.

Kate took a deep breath, struggling to figure out an explanation for him. “You remember that time you said you loved me more than I loved you? Back in the day?” Grayson looked at her with a straight face, “I thought you weren’t going to kick me when I was down?” Kate chuckled, “I’m not.” She leaned back, “It’s like that, but real this time.” She gnawed at her lip, “I know he loves me, I just—” she signed, “I just don’t know if it’s a …forever kind of thing.” She let go of her shirt, “For me at least.”

Grayson nodded and leaned his head back against the wall, “I know the feeling.” Kate laughed and hit his shoulder playfully, “Stop it.”

Grayson shook his head, slightly satisfied that he had done one right thing that day: he made Kate laugh. He would have preferred if she hadn’t continued talking about her boyfriend.

“He just—” she reached for something invisible in the air, “he lives in such a happy world.” She said the words as if they were blasphemous. “And things aren’t always happy, you know? Well yeah, you know.” Grayson nodded beside her with a plain look on her face.

Kate continued, as if she was talking to herself, “If you’re with someone, you should be able to share the good and bad with them. Right? I shouldn’t ask you.” Grayson shot her a flat look while she continued, “Sorry, you’re down. But like—” she gnawed her lip, sinking her incisors into the corner of her mouth. She signed and looked at the ground. Her next words exploded out of her, as if saying them quickly made them any easier to say, “My mom’s sick—cancer—I—I don’t know what to do—But if I ask Wes---Well it’s all about probabilities and odds and she’ll be fine because she’s young and time is on her side but like—” her fasts words morphed into chokes from deep in her throat, “My mom has cancer. I’m sad. I need to be sad. And he can’t---he can’t let me be sad.”

Grayson placed a knowing hand on Kate’s knee and squeezed. He looked at her, meeting her eyes as tears formed in the corners, “I know.”

She gave him a weak smile. They stayed like that, draped across the stairs for the next half hour. They wallowed in the silence and sadness of their own lives: so different from the ethereal happiness they knew two and a half years prior. Something about the tight space of that A frame cottage emphasized that they were more distant than ever: two ships that had passed in the night only to weather their own personal storms.

Grayson’s stomach broke their moment, gurgling in an audible way. Kate raised her eyebrow, slightly impressed with his gut’s vigor. Grayson’s mouth fell into a flat line, “You didn’t sleep?” Kate shook her head plainly. Grayson exhaled and stood up from his step, “I’m going to make dinner.”

Kate held onto the railing and pulled herself up, denying his hand on her way up, “I’ll help you.”

Grayson kept his tiny home stocked with a few, essential non-perishables. Together, he and Kate forged a dinner of pasta, tomato sauce, and an assortment of canned vegetables. In the cramped kitchen space of the tiny home, Kate swayed around as she lithely stirred two pots of vegetables. Grayson’s hip brushed against hers as he started to drain pasta, shooting steam into the hair. Kate pulled her hair away from her face, peering over into the sink. Grayson breathed in to find himself sent back a different time and place. When her sweet, citrus scent met his nostrils, he stopped himself from giving an audible moan. He was grateful for the steamy air as he felt the blush hit his cheeks: her scent triggered his brain to replay a series of kisses where he remembered the precise feeling of her plump pink lips dancing on his.  He had to make a mental note to remain calm during their dinner, trying not to let his own bodily functions and hormones defeat him in his emotionally desolate state.

A few miles away from Grayson’s tiny house, a man in a black hood sulked into the driver’s seat of his beat-up sedan. He opened the screen on his camera to smile, grinning madly at the clear images of run-away fiancé, Grayson Dolan, arriving at his New Jersey tiny home with a woman, who was most definitely not his betrothed. The internet had been up in a blaze since Grayson ran out on his own party: a few people thought he had actually gone missing, some thought this was the end of ‘Shayson’, and a small faction took his disappearance as evidence of the long standing rumor he was gay. The paparazzi smugly sneered at the images, wondering exactly how much he could sell them for.