When We Collide (Part 17)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?

When We Collide on Wattpad

“Are you gonna eat that?”

“No, actually garlic has made me kind of nausea lately-,” Your eyes widened in surprise when the bread on your plate was gone like a light, you didn’t even get the chance to finish your sentence. 

“So you can just have it…” You nodded your head in confirm and leaned back on your chair wishing that this ‘blind date’ could be finished as soon as possible. 

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heatstrokeyellowstrawberryblue  asked:

Hi! I'm wondering if you know what kinds of veggies are healthiest and keep longest? I'm on food stamps and don't have a lot of time to cook, so frozen multiveggie packs are tempting, but A. I can't figure out how to eat them. On their own??? And B. I hear they aren't very healthy for you since they're so processed etc. I'd also appreciate tips on getting meat in my diet for cheap! I love your blog, it's really helped me a lot!

Hey! First of all- so proud of you for getting on SNAP! That is a long and arduous process, good for you.

I’m going to do the meat post separately!

I focused on the following characteristics when choosing vegetables.

- That they’re cheap
- Either they cook fast or can be thrown in an oven and roasted while you go about your routine
- That they’re healthy
- Are versatile for both cold and hot dishes
- Last a long time sitting uncooked in your fridge
- That they’re fresh! I did list one frozen vegetable on my list, but tried to keep the rest fresh.


1. Carrots! Carrots are almost always sold in bulk, last for months, and don’t take super long to cook. Carrots taste delicious is salads, pasta sauces, soups, and roasted with cinnamon. Delish.

2. Potatoes. I don’t recommend eating an entire potato and leaving it at that, but potatoes plus other veggies = golden. Potatoes last for about a month, sometimes more. If they start to get moldy, squishy or black, toss ‘em. Potatoes are filling and require very little active cooking. Stab their sides and throw them in the oven while you do you. Use them in a hash, soup, or top with your favs for a baked potato meal. Sweet potato is slightly more pricey, but also delicious.

3. Corn. Frozen corn is super easy to work with, defrosts fast. and adds crunch to any meal. Lots of frozen corn products include a “sweet sauce”, so avoid that like the plague. You can always rinse this sauce off if you have to. Warm salads, soup, pasta, delish.

4. Butternut squash. Much like potatoes but healthier, butternut squash will sit uncooked in your fridge for a while, and requires little effort to cook. I recommend roasting it with some salt and olive oil. I like to buy pre-peeled (I bought two medium sized containers for $4) and roast them for my smoothies. But I also use them with eggs and warm salads. Really a quintessential winter vegetable.

5. Cucumbers. They’re mostly water. But they’re zero calories and last FOREVER in your fridge. I use them in salads primarily, because heating them dries them out and I don’t think they taste as good warmed.

6. Zucchini. Another excellent squash! This is probably the longest lasting squash in my mind, it can sit for several weeks before starting to get squishy. I like to make zucchini bread, but these taste delicious in pastas, hashes, and roasted and cooled for salads. Top with cumin, salt and pepper.

7. Tomatoes. I love love LOVE tomatoes. I actually grow tomatoes. If possible, I recommend leaving your tomatoes out on your counter to keep them soft and help them retain their natural sweetness. Salads, sandwiches, pastas, pasta sauces. Simple cheap sandwich: sliced tomatoes with salt and pepper, cheese of your choice, and olive oil.

Rainbow lunch bowl essentials for hot hot days👅💦✔️✔ well, basically most of my lunches look like this🤗 and today my bowl was Mexican inspired ~ filled with baked sweet potato, romaine, cucumber, carrot, tomato, purple cabbage + spicy ‘refried’ beans (recipe is in my Ebook)👌🏼🌿
Happy Wednesday friends!

IG: @naturally_nina_

Rickety Tables

the series read as follows:

SupermanMondayCheezy PouffsBaconStumblingTrail Mix …  PunchFridayPreparationUncle MudlerNormalBackseatMudler-senseThe FBIUnthinkablePatienceElephant Jokes … Cooking


Skinner woke him up.

Mulder started, which caused Scully to jerk but not wake up, remaining in dreamland a few more minutes as Skinner crouched in front of him, “how’s she doing?”

“Exhausted. Hungry. Not hungry. Wishing she were your average, every day, sane librarian or candle salewoman.”

Skinner blinked but didn’t smile, “I’ll find that funny in a few weeks. What are you doing down here? How are the kids?”

Squeezing his partner’s upper arm lightly, “she needed real food and a reminder that the world still exists outside the walls,” and seeing him anxiously waiting, “and the kids are doing okay. Few bad dreams here and there but I’ve got them talking to me and Maggie and each other so I think they’ll be okay in the long run.” Taking in his boss with a critical eye, “how are you?”

“We don’t talk about me, Mulder.”

“We will when you come over for dinner tonight … or tomorrow … what time is it anyways?”

Watch arm twisting, “a little before 10. How long had you been sitting here?”

“Stop changing the subject. You’re coming over for dinner tomorrow night regardless of what you think you have to do instead.” Squinting, “no arguing, Walter. You probably haven’t eaten in a few days either and I don’t care if the world explodes around us, you need meatloaf.”

Skinner shadowed a smile at this point, “those Scully women are rubbing off on you and don’t call me Walter.”

“Okay, Walter.”

He stayed a few more minutes, long enough for Scully to wake up and groan as she moved, her muscles stiff from the cold floor. Sitting up, she blinked at her boss, “you need a vacation, sir.”

“See, she still calls me sir.”

“Whatever, Walter.”

Scully stood next, leaning on the wall for a moment while she got her bearings, “how are things going?”

Skinner shook his head, “do you really want to know?”

When she nodded, he told them.


Mulder crawled under the blankets at 2am, having finally, reluctantly, left Scully’s side, first making her eat the pot roast and potatoes, warmed in the break room microwave and consumed at a rickety table in uncomfortable plastic chairs entirely too reminiscent of every damn hotel they’d ever stayed in on cases.

She mentioned this, honestly comforted by the familiarity of it and Skinner, who had taken them up on the offer to share the food, shrugged, “I keep telling Mulder you two can spend a little more on hotels, maybe get them with a mattress less than 30 years old but he keeps insisting on the Davy Crockett lodges of the world.”

“Excuse me?”

Skinner finally smiled, realizing he started a fire, and quietly filled his mouth with potatoes, shooting glances between his favorite pair. He watched them lightly spar, slinging pathetically diluted barbs at one another until he had to interrupt, “I’ve seen you argue much better than this. Am I to expect that now you’re a thing that you’ll be treating each other with kid gloves or is it just a ‘now’ thing and I’ll be seeing fiery, raining hell from you both in the very near future?”

Scully laughed, her ears not used to the sound, and nudging Mulder under the table with her foot, “I’ll kick his ass both verbally and physically next week, sir, whether he deserves it or not.”

“That was my foot, Agent Scully.”

“Oh. Sorry, Walter.”

Skinner groaned, eyes closing as he blindly fed another forkful into his mouth, “you, too, really?”

“Stuff happens, Walter.”

“Be quiet, Mulder.”


Scully trudged into the house late that afternoon, instantly swarmed by littles and seeing their faces for the first time in almost three days, her throat constricted, superimposing charred flesh onto cherubic countenances. Mulder watched her transform in a heartbeat, eyes widening, face paling, hands rigid and he reached over short heads to take her shoulder, “come here, Scully. Kids, why don’t you go out back for a few minutes and let Aunt Dana relax, okay? We’ll be there in a little bit.”

Betsy, beautiful, blunt, Betsy, from the land of 5-year old honesty, turned Toby around, “Aunt Dana wants to cry. We gotta go.”

Mulder ruffled her hair with his free hand as she skirted by him, “never grow up, Bets.”

Already following the crowd to the kitchen, she called a cheerful, “Okay,” before disappearing through the door.

Once alone, Mulder took Scully’s face in her hands, “do you want to go upstairs for an epic breakdown or can you hold it together enough to go outside with the crowd? It’s up to you and I’ll follow you wherever you need to go. No judging, just hugs and possible kissing depending on the level of snot running out of your nose.”

A gurgled, strainingly pathetic chuckle emerged before she bit her lip, “upstairs if you don’t mind.”

Removing hands to hips, he turned her, waiting until she’d kicked her shoes off to move her to the stairs, “lead on.”

The tears started on the fifth step and by the time they’d invaded her old room, the floodgates broke, sobs into his shoulder soaking his shirt in seconds. Not sure if exhaustion played a role in her breaking, he held her close, waiting until her shuddering body came back under control before, “did something else happen or is this just three-day accumulation of ‘the world is shit and I haven’t slept at all’?” Leaving her forehead on his chest, she spoke so quietly he had to force his neck down, get his ear closer to her mouth, “what?”

“The last two days have been people I recognized names of but have never met but today, I ID’d Skinner’s secretary as well as that girl Holly from the Pusher case and Bill Tarkin from accounting.”

Mulder deflated, the air rushing from his lungs as his shoulders sagged, “damn it. Did you tell Skinner yet?”

Scully shook her head into him, “no. I should have told him when I found out but I just … I couldn’t do it … not then.” Pulling back, she looked up at him, his jaw square, his stubble evident, “but I should tonight, after dinner.”

“Would you like me to?”

Kissing the dent in his chin, “yes, but I’ll do it anyway.”

Eyes roaming over her face, taking in every possible and impossibly detail, he landed on her lips, washed out, cracked, chapped, “I would like to marry you right now, please.”

Her palms slid up his sides, arms, shoulders, to cross in a hug behind his head, “can I at least shower first?”

Whispering in her ear, “I’d take one with you if I could but I imagine the gang needs some supervision.”

Not letting him go just yet, “where’s mom?”

“Out in the back as well, probably encouraging mischief and mayhem.”

One kiss below his ear, “go break up the tomfoolery while I clean up. I’ll be down in a few.”

A critical look aimed in her direction, “are you sure? You can take as long as you need to. I got this parenting thing handled like you can’t even imagine.”

Instead of the smile he hoped to elicit, a far-off look fluttered through her gaze, “I know,” before she turned in his arms and headed to the hall.

He would dwell on that look later.

OK guys I’m here to talk to you about instant mashed potatoes and how they are civilization’s perfect food.

I’ve seen a lot of references go by to various kinds of Depression Foods, and their close cousin Chronic Illness foods, aka the best way to put calories in your body without expending any actual effort. So I’m here to tell you what should be near the top of every list of this type: Instant mashed potatoes.

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  • They’re cheap. A packet of brand name IMP goes for 99 cents and provides like four meals worth of mashed potatoes. Find them in the pasta aisle for some reason usually.
  • They’re quick. A lot of foods call themselves “instant” when what they really mean is “takes 5-10 minutes.” No. IMP is not here for your waiting shit. When they say instant they mean INSTANT, as in the INSTANT you dump the water on the powder, your potatoes are done. The time it takes to prepare IMP is the time it takes to boil water. If you can make tea, you can make IMP. The instructions say that you should boil 2 cups of water in a pot, then add potatoes, stir, done. If you have a tea kettle and a sturdy heat-safe bowl, you don’t even need the pot. Just pour water to the two-cup mark and hit the button. Put the contents of the envelope in a sturdy bowl. When the kettle boils, pour it in the bowl. Stir. Eat it off the spoon directly out of the bowl.
  • They’re filling. I mean, they’re potatoes. If Mark Watney can survive on potatoes alone for like a year on Mars then you probably can too.
  • They’re delicious. I am literally FURIOUS at how delicious they are. I have always had an ambivalent relationship with mashed potatoes because the effort it takes to boil some potatoes to death and then crush them with the fury of your buried resentment towards the patriarchy has always seemed disproportionate to the fairly bland, mushy results you get. Over time I worked on my technique and managed to turn out a fairly decent result with lots of butter, buttermilk, salt and pepper, bacon bits maybe. Instant mashed potatoes took all my work and flushed it out the crapper because they were more delicious on first bite than anything I have ever made by hand. Salty, savory, fluffy and perfect. They have all sorts of different flavors. There is literally no reason to ever mash potatoes by hand ever again. There is no reason to ever touch an actual potato again. The concept of cooking has been utterly sidelined by this technology. Civilization has developed supply lines so advanced as to put this food on your plate, just waiting to activate the pleasure centers in your mouth, with zero input from living beings on every level. Nutrition has been numerized. Human beings are made obsolete. I for one welcome our new instant mashed potatoes overlord.

agenderraskel  asked:

Fluff? Lessee. Pepper sends Tony a different flavor tube of chapstick every month because Tony can't stop chewing his lips. Rhodey and Tony ended up cuddling so often in college that when they graduated, both of them had to buy heated body pillows to sleep at night. Tony adores the Make-A-Wish children he visits, and the rare ones that get better have a concerned uncle for the rest of their life. Tony loves simple, filling food like potato leek soup, it settles his brain.

Pepper’s initial assumption when she met Rhodey was that he and Tony were secretly dating, and she went to great lengths to try to help keep it secret. Tony loves having his scalp massaged, especially with Bucky’s metal hand. He doesn’t even care when hair gets caught in the plates. The smell of baked goods in the Tower kitchen attracts Avengers quicker than the Assemble Alarm.

There are so many marvellous ideas here, I don’t even know where to start!!! Thank you so much for the dose of fluff, I really needed it and it’s delicious!

I feel for Tony, I have a bad habit of chewing on my lips too. I feel like sometimes when Pepper is annoyed with Tony she buys him chapsticks that work like lipstick and of course Tony being Tony uses them constantly and adores the cherry red lips it gives him.

The MIT cuddling is definitely a thing and the Make-A-Wish thing oh god. I feel like Tony wouldn’t just meet the children that want to see him, he also goes out of his way to set the kids up with his team mates and help fulfil other wishes when possible. Maybe he has JARVIS keep an eye on the wishes that pop up?

The various things Pepper did were probably hilarious and you can’t tell me they don’t still make jokes about it all the time. The Avengers probably hate it (read: are secretly amused) when those three are together in the same room because they know each other so well and have so many inside jokes that it’s like they speak their own language sometimes.

Also Bucky’s metal hand. Do not get me (or Tony for that matter) started on Bucky’s metal hand. Seriously. The only reason the other Avengers’ keep (half) their comments about his obsession to themselves is because it actually helps Bucky and sometimes even makes him smile to see Tony beam about his arm like that.

Just curious but who do you think is baking said magical goods? 

Please imagine Kent and Tater on a grocery run at 1 AM with the intent of last-minute restocking on condoms and lube, but it’s now 1:20 AM and they’re both standing in aisle 3, their carts filled with chicken, frozen potatoes, eggs, ketchup, spaghetti sauce, tortilla chips, cheese, rosé, vodka, 6-pack of beer, 3 brands of cereal, milk, paper towels, fancy cat food, and a bag of discounted chocolate bars, because they got hungry on the ride over. They’re both in loose-fitting pajamas and Kent has his hoodie pulled up, wrapped in his fluffiest blanket and wearing a very serious expression as he scrutinizes the ingredient list of Orville’s microwavable popcorn. He’s leaning his head on Tater’s shoulders, and Tater’s mouth is pressed against Kent’s cowlick as he holds Kent close, muttering tired, noncommittal noises when Kent asks him if he’s making a horrible decision in wanting to make chicken parmesan at what will be 2 in the morning. 

Mediterranean baked sweet potato🍠
It’s the first time I didn’t fill the sweet potato with black beans, tomato and corn because I had some leftover chickpeas and it turned out so good!😍

huey in some capsicum suspenders: today im making a raw pigs lung filled with packet mashed potatoes made with bundy instead of water


This was not what I was expecting. After three songs I wasn’t expecting a genre change. It was a nice change of pace but it was not what I was expecting.

The guitar echoed through my room, this was not something I would typically listen to but I still couldn’t shut it off. A voice inside of me told me to keep listening.

That voice inside of me was trying to kill me. This was another song that wasn’t about me. My eyes were not blue. Harry’s eyes were not blue. Which means, he was writing about someone that was not me. He was writing about someone with blue eyes.

Maybe it was the same person, I’m really hoping it was. I was hoping that he hadn’t told two other girls that they were the type of girls people wrote songs about. It hurt enough to know he told one.

“It’s not you and it’s not me.” sarcastic laughter fell from my lips.

Damn right.

I don’t know about him, but I was not the same girl that he had dated months ago.

“Are you sure about this..” the hair dresser asked cautiously, I nodded. I was damn sure about this.

Harry and I had been separated for a month, and I was losing my mind. Every single thing I saw reminded me of him. If a person spoke a certain way or wore something I think he would, I would have to fight back tears.

Everywhere I went, I saw him. I saw us. The grocery store. The mall. Hell, even in my own best friend’s house. I was reminded of us. Little memories of how we would use to be were everywhere. It was torture.

Even when I looked in the mirror.

I would catch a glimpse of myself and see his hands on me. How his fingers would twirl in my long hair or pull it back in his fists. I couldn’t stand it. So I decided if I was going to start moving on, I needed to change.

First, I stopped going anywhere we had spent time together. Bars. Restaurants. Clothing stores. Everywhere. If we had stepped foot in it together, I no longer knew that place existed. Even if it cost me more money to travel to places that weren’t within a five mile radius of where I lived, it was better for me mentally.

Second, I started apartment hunting. I loved Lily with my entire heart and would love to be her roommate forever, but I knew that she wouldn’t uproot with me. I wanted to stay in New York but I couldn’t stay with her. We had lived with her for a month, the guest room was filled with him. Even if he wasn’t there, I could smell his cologne. I could feel his arms wrap around me when I slept in bed alone. I couldn’t be there much longer.

And now, came my appearance which I was currently working on. I had been walking to my new grocery store, which was an extra six blocks from my old one. I wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood yet, but I caught my reflection in a passing store window. I saw myself, my hair down around my shoulders. Harry loved my hair. He loved that it was long, he loved how my dark locks made the green in my eyes pop.

I knew he wasn’t there, but I could feel him. I could hear his voice whispering to me, telling me I looked beautiful. It felt so real, it sent a shiver down my spine. My eyes involuntarily closing.

I couldn’t continue living like this, I wanted to forget. I immediately whipped out my phone, googling the nearest salon in walking distance. I made it there within minutes, demanding a stylist the second I walked in the door.

“This is a big change, have you thought it through?” she asked, her finger pulling my hair to my back. “Not at all.” I answered honestly. She sighed, “Must’ve been bad.” she said, nodding with her eyes locked to mine in the mirror. I knew was she was talking about, my face gave it all away. She knew exactly why I was doing this.

“It was.” I sighed, my eyes dropping as her hands found my shoulders. “How long has it been?” she questioned, wrapping a cape around my front. “About a month.”

“So it’s still fresh.” she said mainly to herself, she moved so that her face was resting beside mine. I looked back to the mirror, her eyes glued to me. “Don’t worry, when I’m done with you you’ll be ready to get back out there and forget all about him.”

I mustered up the best smile I could and prayed she’d be right.

My fingers pinched at my hair. It was slightly grown out since then, it reaching a little past my shoulders. It had taken six hours to get it to the blonde we agreed on, but it was worth it. I left feeling like a new woman.

I barely recognized myself when I woke up the next morning. People I knew were pleasantly surprised, saying I looked so much different. That’s what I had wanted. I wanted to remove every part of him from me.

I wanted a new me.

I thought this would help, but after a week I had just felt disappointed. I still saw him in me. I still saw him in everything. We were different but still the same. As much as I had wanted us to be completely different people. We were still the same, just not together like we use to be.

“We’re not who we use to be.” I mumbled, my mouth crammed to the brim with food. Harry turned to me, his eyebrows caught together with a look that insisted I go on.

“It’s a Friday night, and we’re sitting on the kitchen floor eating cold mashed potatoes.” I tried to laugh but I feared something would spill from my lips. He nodded, “I’m fine with this.”

“If you would’ve told me months ago that this is how we would spend our weekends together, I would’ve laughed in your face.” I added, my head shaking. He lifted his spoon to his lips, his eyes scanning the kitchen.

“I don’t see anything wrong with this.” he said before stuffing his face with a shrug.

I took in our situation, both of us facing one another, sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor. A bowl of potatoes separating us. I was wearing one of his shirts, on accident, I thought it was mine but the length of it told me it wasn’t. He didn’t mind, he loved seeing me in his clothes.

His hair was down, his bangs falling onto his forehead as opposed to how they were always styled up. I loved when he looked like this, when he looked effortlessly handsome. His graphic tee hanging low on his collarbones as his sweatpants clung to his legs in all the right places.

“Months ago we would be in some secluded place of a busy bar, doing things God would not approve of.” he chuckled at his own words. “We were such sinners back then.” I agreed, smiling over to him before scooping up more potatoes.

The fridge had been open, in case we needed to grab more food. The light of it paling the room, the two of us sitting in front of it.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” he whispered, to which I laughed.

“Thanks.” I said, my mouth full.

“I mean it. Everyday when I wake up and see you, I can’t help but think of how truly blessed I am. You’re so beautiful every second of every day.” he gushed, his hand reaching between us to wrap around the side of my neck. “I love you so much, Brooklyn.”

I swallowed, my hand moving to ghost his. “You’ve gotten so sappy in these past months.” I joked to which he playfully shoved me. “Get fucked, I was being cute and you ruined it.” he laughed, his spoon filling with more potatoes.

I shifted around to lay into his side, “I know, babe. I was kidding. I love you too.” My head rested in the crook of his neck, his face slightly turning to place his lips on my forehead.

My hands came up to his chest, his breathing was normal, but his heart was racing. “You nervous?” I joked, and he laughed while shaking his head. “You’re the only girl who can get my heartbeat racing just by touching me. It’s like I don’t have one until you’re near.” I swooned, clutching to him harder. He always knew what to say.

“If you’re really craving the old days, I can put on some real pants and we can go out for a few hours.” he suggested, distracting me a little from his kind words, tilting his head down to look at me.

I shook my head, taking in his appearance. I moved to see his face, his eyes hypnotizing me as I thought about how much I really loved everything about him. How little moments like this were the things I really appreciated.

“This is all I really need.”

The wine washed away the memory of that night, replacing the taste of potatoes with the sting of the alcohol.

I needed him. I needed him like I needed him that night. I didn’t care if this song was about me or not, I needed Harry.

“Stop laughing this is serious business.” he said, his voice stern as he looked to my grinning face. I cleared my throat, nodding as my face fell straight.

It had been exactly two months since Harry and I have been dating, so we decided to indulge in alcohol. Which led us to a closed park at nearly three in the morning, where we stood by the swings. One of his arms wrapped around the back of my waist as his other clutched my hand at our sides.

My tipsy brain consumed me, laughs falling from my mouth before I had a chance to sustain them. He scoffed down at me, “We’ll never be prepared for the talent show.” he groaned, his body falling limp.

We decided to walk home, both of us nowhere near sober so we knew driving back wasn’t an option. Our arms were stuck to each other’s bodies, using one another as crutches to drunkenly stumble home. Which led us to the park.

It was a park we had always gone by, never paying much attention to it. However, on this night, it was all I could focus on as we passed. Noticing how the pond next to it looked somewhat like the location in Dirty Dancing where Patrick Swayze was trying to teach Baby how to do the big lift.

I mistakenly mentioned this to Harry, mainly as a passing comment, but as soon as his eyes locked with the pond, his face lit up. “I know how to do the lift.” he beamed, his eyebrows wiggling as he looked down at me. I shook my head, already knowing what he was suggesting. “No.” I put my foot down, knowing this would not end well.

And yet, here I was, standing across from him in said park, practicing the dance from Dirty Dancing that Harry knew by memory for some reason.

I decided it was best not to question it.

“C'mon, we can do this.” he cheered, moving back from where we were standing to position himself a few feet away from me. “We really can’t.” I laughed, my smile feeling as if it was carved into my face at this point.

“Don’t talk like that! Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” he yelled, the determination on his face only making me laugh harder. “Harry, we’re on a hard surface. I may be drunk, but I can still feel if my bones break.” I fought, only seeing this end badly.

He sighed, looking off to the side of where we were standing. His sadness visible even in the moonlight. He continued to look off, his slump shoulders straightening as his head snapped back to me. He began to inch closer, walking as if he was on ice.

“Then maybe..” he started, taking another step. “We should..” he continued, his body halfway to where I stood. I was suspicious, he was too calm. “Take this elsewhere.” he finished, to which my eyes widened.

I looked over to where he was staring, the pond. “No! No! No! No!” I screamed, automatically fleeing from where he was and off towards the street. “Oh no you don’t!” he yelled, his speed doubling.

His legs were far longer than mine so it didn’t take him long to wrapped his arms around my waist. I kicked my legs, “Harry, no!” I protested as he spun me around, having no difficulty throwing me over his shoulder as I struggled against him. “Harry, yes.” he stated smugly as he carried me towards the water.

“You’re drunk! You’re not thinking this through!” I tried to reason, but it was no use. Once he had his mind set on something, he would go through with it. “Probably not, but here we go.” he said before flinging me into the pond.

I rushed to reach back to the surface, my entire body freezing. When I finally caught my breath I saw him on dry land, laughing. His arms wrapped around his stomach as he cackled. “HAROLD!” I screeched, my wet hair stuck to the front of my face.

Within seconds he was in the water beside me, after he had cannon balled into the pond. He sprung back to his feet, his hair flat and pushed away from his face as a smile danced on his lips.

He moved over to wrap his arms around me, I was struggling to keep afloat while he could practically stand on the bottom of the pond floor. He lifted me, moving my legs to wrap around his waist.

I couldn’t be mad at him, not when he looked like this. His eyes were focused on my lips as he pushed back my hair, revealing my face to him. “Even like this, you’re breathtaking.” he whispered, his hand lingering at the side of my head.

The moonlight reflected off of the water, his face illuminated only by the night sky. He looked incredible. A smile tugged at both of our lips as he moved one hand to the small of my back, pulling me into him. Our lips crashing against each other’s. Both of our breaths catching as our mouths moved together.

When we pulled back he continued to stare at my lips, a smile tugging on both of our features. “You look so beautiful. You put the moon to shame.” he gushed, and my happiness radiated off of me. He was my everything.

“Now.” he said, his eyes locking with mine. “Let’s get this lift down.”

I grabbed my phone, my fingers sloppily unlocking it as I realized that this was the alcohol’s doing. I couldn’t talk to him, he moved on.

No, I was not doing this. I was not calling Harry. It would only end poorly on my behalf, but I still couldn’t help myself from searching his number in my contacts.

I had blocked it a month or two back, I couldn’t stand ignoring him. I had never wanted to ignore him, but it was for the best. It was for him. He needed to move on, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him for long.

I loved him.

His picture was the same one that would pop up on my screen for months. His head was squished between his hands, his smile so wide that it consumed half of his face. He was sitting across from me in a restaurant, one where we sat outside where the sunset behind him slightly backlit his figure. It was my favorite photo of him.

His name was still “H” in my phone, and I could never change it from that. We had been so close, such a constant in each other’s lives that I could never put him formally in my phone. It didn’t feel right. I couldn’t do that to him.

I laughed despite myself, more so at myself. After all the things I had put him through, changing his name in my phone was the one thing I COULDN’T do to him. I was so pathetic.

Tears filled my eyes, the song nearing its end as I went to the bottom of his contact. My finger tapping against the words “unblock”. I won’t let myself call him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have it so he could call me if he really wanted to.

I knew he wouldn’t, he moved on. Didn’t stop me from thinking it though.

A vibration in my hand alarmed me, my heart stopping as I saw his name flash across my screen. This was not happening.

My heart felt as if it was going to escape through my mouth, my breath hitching as my phone vibrated again. His name flashing once more. I pulled down my notifications screen, seeing his name with the number two next to it.

With hesitant fingers, I clicked on it. Tears streaming as I saw his words.

The message was from two months ago, it had to be a day or two after I had blocked him. The time stamp read three in the morning, knowing he was probably having a rough night seeing how he usually only stayed up later if he was drinking or upset. His words sloppy, so I assumed he was drunk when he sent them.

His texts haunted me as the song finished, my mind not being able to believe what I was reading.

“Not a dayy goes by where I don’t mmiss you, kitten”

“I know youre probbably sick of mee, but im just trying to remmember how it feels to have a heartbeat”


it all makes sense now

it’s 1986, hopper has been dating joyce for over a year, dustin makes an offhand comment about “all your kids dating wheeler’s”

and hopper is shocked because it’s the first time el, will & jonathan have been referred to as “his kids” and damn it still hurts when he thinks about sarah not being a part of that, but it also feels right that they’re “his” now.

he’s also shocked because holly isn’t anywhere near old enough to date, and he doesn’t remember any wheeler cousins so who exactly is will dating.

it’s almost another year before hopper figured that one out.

concept by @bipunkrose. i also wanted to do this as it’s nearing thanksgiving season and this is set at thanksgiving.

thanksgiving 1986. 

normally, the wheeler’s would visit their grandparents in indianapolis for the holiday, but this year their grandparents were out of the state. due to a variety of other reasons, they ended up having quite a large thanksgiving with the byers’s, barb’s parents (nancy insisted that they were invited since they had no one else to spend thanksgiving with), and, for some reason, dustin and steve. everyone expected that it would be excruciatingly awkward, even after two years, to invite steve to a situation with jonathan and nancy. however, steve seemed perfectly cheerful throughout the meal. jonathan and nancy were tactful enough to sit somewhat away from each other and keep the lovey-dovey eye contact to a minimum (pda wasn’t something they were big on anyway), and steve played his part by supplying a steady stream of anecdotes when the conversation fell short to avoid awkward silences.

mike found himself seated between will and eleven (all the adults called her jane, but she confided in the boys that she liked eleven better–it was the only name she really remembered). mike wasn’t quite sure what to call his relationship with will and el. on one hand, he was openly going out with el, with hoppers reluctant blessing. but at the same time–and only the gang knew this–he and will had some sort of relationship. he had kissed will twice, once on the cheek and once on the lips, and hand holding or cuddling were common enough that the other boys and max had stopped noticing. both eleven and will were content to keep it this way, so that’s what they were. mike was, apparently, dating two people.

holly was seated next to mrs. wheeler on a chair piled high with pillows to give her extra height. she was five now, and talking constantly. she was currently in deep conversation with jonathan about how her mom made the turkey and potatoes. jonathan, who was chuckling slightly, looked over at nancy in amusement. 

their brief glance at each other ended, however, when mrs. wheeler clapped to get everyone’s attention and told the guests to grab hands with their neighbors. mike slipped his hands into will’s and el’s. his hand fit perfectly into both of them, their fingers curling around each other like a familiar hug. they then took turns saying what they were thankful for. joyce started, talking about how grateful she was that none of her children were kidnapped or possessed for another year, followed by hopper gruffly mumbling something about el staying out of goddamn trouble. steve went next, and he had obviously written something on his left hand because he kept glancing down and his “thankfulness” list seemed unnaturally long and poetic. 

steve and dustin, who were sitting next to each other, seemed to be having a contest to see who could grip the other’s hand the hardest. dustin’s fingertips were purple by the time ted wheeler finished and concluded the giving thanks. everyone let go of their neighbor’s hands except for mike, eleven, and will. as they all started to eat, dustin grinned a mashed-potato-filled grin at them, as the only other person who knew that was up.

“hey, hop,” he said, swallowing the mouthful of potatoes he had. “isn’t it funny how all your kids are dating wheeler’s?” 

hopper stared at him, but by the time he started to ask what the hell dustin meant by that, dustin had moved on and was talking with jonathan about the intricacies of dungeons and dragons. 

hopper was surprised by what dustin had said. no one had ever referred to el, will, and jonathan as “his kids,” and while he was glad that he was accepted so quickly as part of the family, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain remembering sarah, and how she would never meet his new family.

there was another thing that became incredibly glaring as hopper continued to think about it. he knew that el and mike were going out, as with jonathan and nancy. but didn’t that just leave will and holly? first of all, holly was way too young to even think about dating, and will was ten years older than her. it would be nothing short of disturbing if they were going out. unless there was some wheeler cousin that hopper didn’t know about? he dismissed the thought, thinking that dustin probably forgot about will.

under the tablecloth, mike felt the palms of his hands start to sweat. he let go of will and eleven’s hands, and they both gave him a quick smile before turning their attention to steve, who was doing a dramatic recreation of the time when he egged mrs. brown’s house when he was in junior high. hopper looked none too impressed with steve’s antics, and he banged his fist on the table in mock anger, resulting in a laugh from everyone.

halloween 1987.

dustin, max, lucas, eleven, and mike all hopped into the back of will’s car. they continued to trick-or-treat despite now being 16, and they were heading back to will’s house for a sleepover. joyce was out of town visiting jonathan in college, but she was wary of max, lucas, eleven, and mike, and asked hopper to stay there instead of coming with her “just in case.”

faces flushed from the cool october air, the kids piled into the house and were greeted by hopper, who was uncharacteristically cheerful. 

“hey, kids!” he said, getting up from his seat at the table. the kids were immediately put on edge, but el just rolled her eyes. 

“ignore him,” she said to mike. “he thinks that we’re gonna try something, so he’s trying to scare you into leaving me alone.”

mike slowly understood what she meant and his face turned bright red. “oh.” he glanced at eleven. “i would never…” 

“i know,” el cut him off. “my dad’s just being stupid.” the gang bypassed hopper and beelined for will’s room to begin the annual candy trading event.

three hours later, all the kids were out of there costumes and wearing pajamas, watching the shining. a giant bowl of popcorn was being passed around, but el was munching on an eggo (hopper had brought some in, and despite el insisting that she was “over them,” the box was half-empty). 

hopper came in to check on them and found mike sitting on the sofa with el practically curled up in his lap. he couldn’t help but smile, but something else caught his eye. will had his arm wrapped around mike and mike was lightly stroking his hair. both of them were fixated on the movie, and they hardly seemed aware of their cuddling. 

suddenly, what dustin said the year before hit hopper like a ton of bricks. if all of his kids were dating wheelers, was will dating mike? hopper didn’t think being gay was bad, but wasn’t mike with jane? yeah, they were cuddling just then…what!? was mike…dating both? was that even a thing that people did?


Dirty Little Cheats (Winjimstiel)

AO3 Link: Here
Written for: @spnabobingo , @kinktober2017 , @thebunkerofletters inktober challenge
Prompt(s) Filled(Kink|Ink|ABO): cuckolding | firefighter | WInjimstiel
Ship: Winjimstiel (Sam/Dean/Jimmy/Cas), implied Jimmy/Benny, Cas/Jimmy, Sam/Dean, Cas/Dean
Rating: Explicit
Content Warning: smut, consensual cuckolding, humiliation kink, dirty talk, watersports, a/b/o, alpha!dean, alpha!sam, omega!cas, omega!jimmy, top!sam, bottom!dean, implied switch!dean, bottom!jimmy, top!cas, implied switch!cas, implied top!benny, barebacking, knotting, namecalling
Summary: Jimmy is a slut, but Dean doesn’t mind.
Word Count: 828

Cheating is wrong. Unless you’re Dean Winchester. Then it’s the best fucking thing that happened since personal pies were created.

So when Dean walked into his bedroom to find his baby brother knotting his husband’s swollen, slick asshole – it was a pretty fine ending to an otherwise shitty day.

“How’s his hole?” Dean asked, stripping out of his clothes. He could still smell the ash and soot from the fire he’d just worked on putting out. It was at a public library, and a good section was destroyed, but no one had been hurt. He’d wanted to come home, shower, and unwind – and maybe have Jimmy rub some aloe on his heat burned shoulders. But this? This worked too.

“Sloppy as hell – did you fucking flood him or something before you left, man?”

“He’s my omega,” Dean argued. “But no.”

“Cas—“ Jimmy panted, his cock still twitching as it spilled onto the bed between his knees. “Cas did.”

“Cas, huh?” Dean asked, settling into the chair near the bed, nude. “I say we give Cas a call. See if he wants to come over and help clean up his mess.”

“Lying,” Sam scolded, slapping Jimmy’s ass.

“Why do you think that?”

Sam smirked. “Cause I’ve fucked those twins after they’ve fucked each other. Cas doesn’t come enough to do this. He’s full, Dean. Come look.”

Dean rose and walked over. Sam pulled his cock free, Jimmy whimpering when the deflating knot slipped out. A rush of come, slick, and everything else rushed out of Jimmy’s hole, leaving him gaping and swollen.

“Who’s is this?” Dean asked firmly.

Jimmy smirked. He pushed, squirting another stream of fluid out of his ass.

“Doesn’t matter. You know I only slut around because my husband’s tiny cock doesn’t make me feel good. An omega feels better than you. Lick it up.”

Dean’s cock throbbed. “Yes, sir.” He leaned down, beginning to lap the mess from the bed. He could smell Sam and Cas, as well as their Alpha friend Benny, and the acrid taste of piss.

Jimmy continued to push out the mess from his activities, adding to what Dean needed to clean.

Behind him the snap of a lube cap caught his attention. Sam’s thick fingers prodded his hole, making him whimper.

“Bitch Alpha—“ Jimmy taunted as Sam stretched Dean just enough to fit three fingers. He withdrew them, replacing them with his cock without any warning.

Jimmy turned, his cock thickening against his thigh as he watched Dean writhe on Sam’s cock, his own dripping freely onto the floor.

“Honestly, Dean— you should’ve been born an omega. Look so pretty with a cock up your ass,” Sam teased.

Dean shouted brokenly, his cheeks burning with shame as Sam fucked him open.

“Open up,” Jimmy growled. When Dean obeyed, he forced his semi-hard cock in. Piss flooded Dean’s mouth, gagging him. He spluttered, dribbling piss and spit onto the bed. Jimmy kept his hand on Dean’s head, forcing him to swallow or choke on the steady stream.

“Knock knock,” Cas called, entering the bedroom just as Jimmy’s stream dried up.

“Hey, Cas. Need a bathroom? Or just an ass?” Jimmy teased, slapping Dean’s soaked cheek.

Sam was still pounding into him, his thrust erratic. “Jimmy? Want me to hang him off my knot?” He asked. Dean’s head was hung, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Oh yeah. His cock is worthless, he might as well be a warm socket for a real Alpha’s knot.”

Sam huffed and grabbed Dean’s hips. Dean tried to relax for what he knew was coming, but it was too fast.

Sam slammed all the way in, his knot forced past Dean’s resisting hole. They locked together and Sam’s cock jumped, filling Dean’s hole despite his struggling.

Dean screamed. His knot swelled as he came untouched, messing the bed under him. Cas took advantage of the open mouth and pushed in, holding Dean’s head as he let the contents of his bladder flood Dean’s mouth and convulsing throat.

Dean’s body sagged between Cas and Sam. He struggled to keep his eyes open even as Cas pulled out, sliding into Jimmy’s ass. They fucked in front of Dean, Jimmy not bothering to stifle his moans of pleasure. Those were the last things Dean heard before he drifted to sleep.

When Dean came to, he was tucked warm into bed, the smell of stew and potatoes filling the air. He could hear the twins laughing, Sam’s voice cutting in with a question about beer.

Dean rose slowly, his ass sore as he padded to the kitchen in boxers.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Jimmy said when he noticed. He pecked Dean’s mouth. “Hope you’re hungry.”


“Was it good for you today, Dean?” Sam asked, opening beers.

“Perfect Sammy. Thanks.” He took one and took a drink, smiling a little at his family. They were certainly not the most traditional unit in town - but it worked for them, and that was what mattered.

Forever Tags: @audaciousdean @ilostmyshoe-79 @captainemwinchester @donnaintx @dustycelt @jerksarehot @hexparker @ilovejared @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @meganwinchester1999 @mogaruke @nitranae @purgatoan @samanddeaninpanties @sheriffjodes  @sherrilynn67 @sammyssupersmile @thelittleredwhocould @zzzett @looksmokin @maddieburcham1 @ravenangel33 @latishiante1001 @hollygopossum @justasimplebaker @smoochie-face @sgarrett49 @brothersonahotelbed @uniquewerewolfsuit @whereisyour-moose

Photographs - Part 7 - The Singapore Skybar

Fic Masterlist! 

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 756

“I’m hungry,” Dan whined as they walked through the airport. 

“So am I,” Phil panted. “We’ll go to lunch once we drop our stuff off at the hotel.” 

They pushed the door open to the taxi circuit, giving Dan another reason to complain. “It’s so hot outside!” Dan could practically feel his hair poofing.

“Technically, I believe you’re reacting to the humidity.” 

“Shush. Let me be hot.” 

Phil rolled his eyes as the two somehow managed to catch a cab. In such a busy city as Singapore, you’d think it would take ages, but they must have just gotten lucky. The traffic, however, was not as simple. Their hotel was only a few blocks away, as the city was very small, but it took them half an hour to get there. When they finally got out of the taxi, Dan couldn’t help but gaze up at the building. “This place is huge.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

“There’s three buildings here. Which one do we even go in?” 

“Let’s just try this one.” And so they took their luggage and walked in. Their room, of course, ended up being in the last building they tried. At least they made it eventually. They dropped their suitcases in the room and Dan almost immediately dashed back out, rocking back and forth on his feet and waiting for Phil. 

“Come on! I told you I’m hungry.” 

“Hold your horses; I’m coming.” 

“I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” 

“Let’s go. Maybe you can find a place here where you can eat horses. They terrify me anyway.” 

Dan gave Phil a look. “I don’t think that’s how Singaporean culture works.” Phil simply shushed them and they took off down the block. 

“Do we know where we’re going?” 

“Of course,” Phil said confidently. He pulled up a map on his phone, gazing up at the skyline for the buliding with the skybar they were headed to. “I think we might need a cab.” 

After another half hour stuck in traffic, they were finally dropped off at the huge building. “Why do we always have to go to skybars?” Dan asked. 

“It’s tradition!” Sighing, he followed Phil into the building. They caught an elevator up to the top floor and exited into a bustling restaurant. The scent of steak and potatoes filled Dan’s nostrils, making his stomach growl. 

“Thank goodness we’re finally where the food is.” They sat down an outdoor table and ordered, and it wasn’t until he glanced around the skybar that Dan realized how long it would be until their food was ready. “Guess it’s time to wait another hour.” 

“Sorry. Let’s just take in the sights.” Phil stared off into the distance, admiring both the city and the ocean surrounding it. Across the channel, they could see their towering hotel, a ferris wheel, and a modern bridge structure. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” All Dan could do was nod. “Picture?” 

And so the two of them posed against the railing so that their hotel was in the shot and Dan held up his phone. “Not gonna lie, I’m mildly terrified of dropping this.” 

Phil wrapped his arm around Dan’s back as he prepared to snap the picture. “Don’t worry; I’ll hold you steady.” Although he was already hot and sweaty, Phil’s touch sent a different type of warmth through him. Instinctively, he bit down on his upper lip, snapping the picture. 

“Oh… That’s not a good one…” But Phil was already back at the table. 

“Look, Dan! The waiter brought bread!” Rolling his eyes, Dan pocketed his phone and sat down. 

The two had a pleasant lunch as they watched the sun climb the horizons and position itself directly over them. “We’ve got a whole town to see, my dear. Are you ready to go?” Phil extended a hand to Dan, who graciously took it. 

“I sure am.” They made their way to the elevator and walked in for the long ride back down. 

“Hey, Dan; do you want to post that picture we took at the skybar?” 

Dan pondered this for a moment, remembering his lip bite. “It’s not the best picture, but I could.” 

“Go for it. We want to give them something from day one.” Dan composed an Instagram post, allowing it to post to both Twitter and Tumblr. He put his phone away as the elevator door opened, stepping back out into the humid, Singapore air. Phil was right. There was a huge city out there to see, and he was ready to enjoy his damn vacation. 

Second Star to the Right

7 September 1940

Ash and smoke bleed into the clouds, and rain beats down on Regina Mills’ windshield. An obsidian plume mars the horizon behind her, casting an oppressive shadow upon the narrow, wet one-laned road as she speeds around a corner, her elbow banging into the driver’s side door as she sharply swerves around the curve.

“Regina, slow down!” Emma Swan shouts, bracing one hand on the dash and the other against a splintered passenger side window, glass fogging around her fingers and palm. “We’re not gonna make it if we crash before we get there!”

But Regina can’t slow down, can’t stop, can’t pause for a minute to think beyond Almost there almost there almost there! and the frantic ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump of her heart beating in her chest.

Sweat beads at her temples, tracks through ash, grime, and a smear of blood at her hairline. She’s shaking, muscles spasming painfully, harshly inhaling shuddering breath after breath. 

Calm down, Regina. Just breathe, she thinks, trying to convince herself that everything is going to be alright.

But there’s a drowning dread brewing in her belly, a gnawing terror clawing at her heart as her eyes dart up to the rear view mirror again and again – the sky alight in an unforgiving red behind them as rubber hitting the road puts more distance between them and the horrors of a bloodbath they weren’t prepared for at the Swan House.

God, all those people. The screaming. The flames.

Robin is missing.

Kathryn is dead.

And the world is on fire.

Emma yells again as Regina jerks the wheel to swerve and miss broken crates and an overturned delivery truck on the righthand side of the road. There’s debris littered everywhere – fallen trees, burning countryside, gaping wounds in the earth the size of craters, big billows of smoke reaching up into the air like skeletal tendrils.

She can barely hear Emma, barely lets her friend’s sharp curses divert her attention. She wonders if she’ll be too late, wonders if Henry and Roland are alright.

She needs to get back, needs to get home, needs to get to her boys.
She’s sure they’re alright, prays they are, hopes they are. For what more can she do with five more miles separating her boys from the safety of her arms and the frantic combing of her eyes over their limbs and faces to make sure they’re untouched by the inferno that came from the sky. She thinks of Henry’s apple cheeks and sweet smile. Thinks of Roland’s curly hair and delicious dimples. Dimples he got from his father. Oh God, Robin. She thinks of Robin, of all their letters and tear-stained parchment, and a million unanswered questions filling the pit of her belly with dread.

Her knuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on the steering wheel and bites down on her lower lip. She needs to get home. Now.

Slamming her foot on the accelerator, the tires grip to the road and yank them forward with a lurch. Rubber meeting ground in a godawful screech.

How did everything turn upside down so quickly? How did it all go to shit? That last question makes her think of Robin again. He’s rubbed off on her, and that makes her smile, makes her eyes water, and goddammit, she does not have time for this. This is why you don’t fall in love during wartime, Regina, she thinks. This is why you focus on duty, why you do your part and keep your heart out of play. But she didn’t keep her heart out of play; it cracked open, slowly at first, and then all at once, letting warmth and comfort and love flood in. Robin and Roland had done that, with their charm and their goofy grins, her love for them had snuck up on her, and she’d been flabbergasted at how much she and Henry had soon wanted the Locksley men in their lives. Their love had laid her heart bare in a way that it hadn’t been in years (not since Daniel, not since before she’d been brokered into a marriage to Leopold, and not since she’d first held her darling Henry to her chest. He’d been lost just like her, an orphan during wartime, and she may not have brought him into this world with blood and pain, but she’d loved him instantly with a force so fierce she hadn’t known where it had come from.

“Regina!” Emma exclaims and grips tightly to her arm to get her attention, pulling her out of the past and into the very chaotic present. “I don’t want to die in this stupid piece of metal! Not after what we just went through! Not after Kathryn…”

Regina whips her head around, glaring at Emma, fighting off tears threatening to fall.

Robin is missing.

Kathryn is dead.

The world is one fire.

And she has to get home to the boys.

It’s a mantra she keeps repeating in her head. Something to ground her. Truths she can’t ignore.

It keeps her going, keeps her from breaking down.

Regina’s eyes are back on the road in front of her, but she doesn’t miss the reassurance in Emma’s voice when she speaks next.

“I know, and you know, they’re safe–” the boys, she’s talking about the boys “–Maggie and Marcus wouldn’t let anything happen to Roland. And they love you and Henry, as if you were their own blood. They’ll protect them.” Emma lets go of Regina’s hand as they turn onto the long driveway up to the Locksley farm. Emma blows out a breath, and then gasps, turning around swiftly in her seat and craning her neck to peer out the cab of the truck and up into the clouds.

Regina follows her gaze out her driver’s side mirror.

Planes. An entire fleet, flying overhead toward the city center.

Oh God. Changing autumn leaves pass by in a blur as Regina barrels up the driveway, pebbles spinning out from beneath the truck’s tires as they grapple against gravel for traction.

Her fingers grip more tightly to the steering wheel and she presses down on the pedal again, hard. Takes the next turn at an alarming speed, and on any other day, she’d be more cautious. She’s never driven like this before, hasn’t really driven in years, would never drive like this in general, but there’s still a faint metallic taste in her mouth. There’s still the subtle, unwelcomed burn of ash in her lungs. And Kathryn’s broken body is still clearly painted in her mind.

The lower pasture up ahead blurs, goes watery, and then tears spill beyond her lashes like a flood breaking through a dam. “Almost there,” Regina urgently speaks, voice caught in her throat.

“Come on, come on.” She can see Emma staring at her through the corner of her eye.

They pass over hills and into the valley paralleling the lake, getting closer and closer to the homestead as her heart violently beats faster and faster in her chest. Ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump. The sound of it bleeding into her eardrums, drowning out all other sounds, snuffing out the voice in her head telling her she’s not going to make it, shouting that things will never be the same again as more planes fly overhead.

This is it, she thinks. This is how the world ends.

The truck skids to a halt on the graveled drive in front of Maggie and Marcus Locksley’s country home. And then Regina’s pushing open the door, slamming it shut behind her–the key still in the ignition. She doesn’t take the time to wait for Emma before hiking up her skirt and bounding up the front steps of the house, practically throwing open the front screen door; it violently swings on its hinges, bangs against the wall with a godawful snap. But she doesn’t care that that’s probably left a doorknob dent in the drywall. Who the fuck cares about something like that when London has just been bombed and the city is burning?

She’s out of breath when she shouts, “Henry!” careening down the entryway hallway. “Henry! Roland! Maggie! Marcus!”

She sees Maggie first. “Christ, Regina! You’re covered in blood!” 

And she is, but she doesn’t have time to explain, hears the echo of Kathryn’s scream in her head as the ceiling had collapsed on them, remembers the heat of the inferno singing the hair on her arms, and her colleague’s blood on her hands and apron as she and Emma had tried to carry Kathryn out of the rubble of the Swan House. But she doesn’t say any of that, instead blinks back tears burning at the corners of her eyes and says, “It’s not mine!” and begs, “Where are the boys?”

Maggie pulls her into a quick squeeze and runs her palms down Regina’s arms, checking her over for injuries. A mother through and through. “Marcus has the boys. They’re grabbing the dog and then we’re going to the cellar. Bags are already together.”

Regina nods frantically, and then Emma’s behind her, the screen door slamming into its frame again. “We have to go!” she shouts. “Where are the kids?”

“They’re coming,” Maggie replies, handing Regina and Emma potato sacks filled to the brim with clothing, canteens filled with fresh well water, produce, and basic medical supplies. Regina’s eyes widen as she stares at the contents. There are black market items in these bags. Things they’ve been out of for months, things she thought Maggie had gotten rid of, some things that she in fact helped the older woman get rid of. And yet here they are.

“Maggie…” she says, “where did you…”

“Does it matter?”

No, she supposes it doesn’t, and they’ll be happy for Maggie’s hoarding of illegal items when they’re down in the bunker.

“Okay, we have to go, seriously,” Emma says again. “There’s gonna be a second wave any minute! This isn’t a drill!”

“Where are the boys?” Regina shouts again, nerves unraveling at the seams.

“We’re here!” Marcus Locksley calls. Roland is propped up above his hip, arms tightly wrapped around his grandpa’s neck, and then Henry is shouting, running past the two of them and colliding against Regina’s body.

"Mom!” He cries as she drops to her knees and clutches him to her, her fingers threading into his hair as she breathes his name in a sigh of relief. Her baby is safe; he’s safe. He’s in her arms, and she’s breathing him in, and kissing his cheeks, and drying tears from his eyes, and he’s safe.

It takes them all of five minutes after that to make it across the field to the bunker, and as they lock the shelter door behind them and start running down the stairs, the next wave begins.

Dust unsettles, the walls vibrate, Roland buries his face into his grandpa’s chest and whimpers.

“Mom, I’m scared,” Henry cries into Regina’s shoulder as they huddle together in the far corner of the cellar.

She hugs him a little tighter, presses her lips to the crown of his head and whispers, “I know, honey. Me too.”

“Regina?” Marcus sets Roland down and the five year old runs over to her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she says, folding him into her side and giving him and Henry a squeeze. She ushers them to the cot near the shelf with all the canned peaches and beans, and urges them to sit down.

Roland wipes his runny nose on his sleeve and sniffles. “Is my papa gonna be okay?”

“Oh sweetheart, it’ll be okay,” she says, brushing his curls out of his face and situating herself onto the cot so both of the boys can curl into her sides. She combs her fingers through their hair, and whispers reassuringly, “He’s safe; your papa’s safe.” And then she says, “We’re safe. You’re safe, he’s safe, we’re safe.”

She repeats those words over and over.
And then it begins again.


The walls shake.


Dust unsettles.


Roland covers his ears, and Henry buries his face in his mother’s side.

“We’re going to be alright,” Regina whispers, pressing a kiss to Henry’s brow and combing her fingers through Roland’s curls again.

She wraps her arms more tightly around them both and prays to God she’s right.

Potato rice blintzes

These tasty morsels are a travel staple for many an adventurer as they keep for a while when sealed properly. Because of this, these are a favourite of Tamriel’s travellers and can be found at almost any marketplace or inn. However, they make a great entree to any meal as well. If you prefer to make your own, try your hand by the cooking fire at these delicious bite sized treats!

You will need:
1 cup plain flour
2 eggs, beaten
½ tsp salt
1 cup milk

2 large potatoes, peeled and mashed
½ cup rice, steamed
½ cup grated cheddar cheese
Salt and pepper, to taste
½ onion, chopped
1 egg, beaten for glazing
Sour cream, for serving (optional)

Firstly, make the wraps for your blintzes. Mix the flour, eggs, salt, and milk, and whisk until smooth. In a small pan, pour in just enough batter to cover the base of the pan and cook on low heat until browned, then flip over and cook again. Repeat this process until all the batter is finished. Set the wraps aside on a plate for later.

In a large mixing bowl or food processor, combine the rice, potato, cheese, onion, and salt and pepper. Mix until everything is thoroughly blended.

Create your blintzes by putting a tablespoonful of filling in the centre of the wrap, then fold the outer corners inward and roll the rest of the wrap around. Brush with egg and set aside Repeat for all wraps.

In a pan, lightly fry your blintzes until they retain their shape. Transfer onto a plate to cool and serve with sour cream to dip.