mr. scent

When Credence shifts, when he ducks his head down into the warmth of the scarf to beat the wind, his senses are overcome with the scent of Mr. Graves. It’s so much more than the time he wore Mr. Graves’ coat – now, it is everywhere. It feels very much like he is burying his face in Mr. Graves’ neck and is breathing him in. The scent is comforting, warming, invigorating. Perhaps even more dizzying than the alcohol.

When the wind picks up, howling through the valleys of the skyscrapers, Mr. Graves moves and loops his arm around Credence’s shoulder. His hand is solid and warm, holding Credence tight. Keeping him from blowing away.

autumn dusk at central park ch.2 by @brawlite

darfichihrenhundstreicheln  asked:

18. With Wendy, Soos, and Stan. (mystery shack trio?) Whatever holiday you want

18. Holiday.

This ended up being longer than I thought it would be.  Clearly, I have some Feelings about Stan, Wendy, Soos, and found family.  Hope you like it.

Send me some characters and a number and I’ll write you a ficlet!

               Wendy knocked on the Mystery Shack door.  She was expecting Stan to open it, but to her surprise, it was Soos.

               “Hey, dude!” Soos said excitedly, pulling her into a hug.

               “Hey, Soos,” Wendy said, attempting to break from Soos’ intense embrace. “What are you doing here?  Aren’t you supposed to be spending Thanksgiving with Abuelita?”

               “Nah, she went on a day trip with some of the other ladies from her Bingo Night,” Soos said.  

               “Oh.  That sucks.”

               “It just means I get to spend Thanksgiving at my favorite place on Earth!” Wendy looked the ramshackle dwelling over.  

               “…That’s one way to describe the Shack,” she said slowly.  “Mr. Pines said that he had a lumberjack emergency and I was the cheapest person he could find on short notice.  What’s going on?”  

               “Oh, right.  The ‘lumberjack emergency’,” Soos said, making air quotes.  Wendy squinted at him.

               “Seriously, dude.  What’s going on?”

               “Come on in, you’ll see,” Soos said gleefully.  He moved aside so that she could walk into the shack.  Wendy walked in carefully.  Within a few steps, she had been immersed in a cornucopia of holiday scents.  

               “Did Mr. Pines spring for holiday-themed candles or something?” she asked.  “It actually smells…nice in here.”

               “Please,” someone scoffed from the kitchen.  Wendy looked over.  She couldn’t decide whether to be amused or confused by the sight of Stan Pines in an apron and large oven mitts.  “Everyone knows that scented candles are a conspiracy by the EPA.”

               “Uh…what?” Wendy said.  Stan waved a gloved hand.

               “It’d take too long to tell you right now.  If you want, I’ll tell you over turkey, though.”

               “Turkey?”  Wendy looked back and forth between Stan and Soos.

               “Haven’t you figured it out, yet, kid?” Stan asked.  

               “Figured what out?” Wendy asked.  Soos looked at Stan eagerly.

               “Can I tell her?”

               “Yeah, sure.  I gotta check on the sweet potatoes,” Stan said, turning his back and going into the kitchen.

               “Sweet potatoes?” Wendy muttered to herself, confused.  

               “Dude, it’s Thanksgiving at the Mystery Shack!” Soos enthused.

               “Well, yeah, today’s Thanksgiving.  And we’re at the Mystery Shack.”

               “No, dude.  We’re gonna eat Thanksgiving dinner here.”  Wendy gaped at him.  



               “Then Mr. Pines-”

               “Cooked everything himself!”

               “Hot damn,” Wendy said quietly.  She frowned at Soos.  “Why?”

               “Last year, Mr. Pines overheard you say that your family doesn’t do ‘traditional Thanksgiving’.”

               “Yeah, chopping down the largest sycamore you can find, carving it into an animal, and then hunting your own dinner is pretty different from watching a football game.  Or whatever it is normal families do.”

               “Mr. Pines also heard you say that you weren’t gonna be doing the Thanksgiving thing your family does this year.”    

               “I said that a month ago!  He remembered?”


               “I have to help him find his pants when he loses them, but he remembers something I said to Tambry a month ago?”

               “Yeah!”  Wendy looked over at the kitchen.  She could hear Stan humming.  Humming.

               “But why is he doing all this?  He’s a grumpy old man; he shouldn’t be making us dinner.”  Soos put an arm around Wendy’s shoulders.

               “Dude, he’s like a candy.  Hard on the outside, soft on the inside.”

               “Uh-huh.  I don’t buy it.  Why is he really doing this?” Wendy said, crossing her arms. Soos sighed.

               “You wanna know the truth, dude?”


               “I think he’s lonely.”  Wendy blinked.


               “Yeah.  He gets like this around the holidays a lot.  And around June, for some reason, too.  I think he misses spending time with his family.”

               “Then why doesn’t he call them?”  Soos looked at her.  Wendy blinked, realization sinking in.  “You think that we’re his-”

               “Maybe I’m imagining things,” Soos said with a shrug.  “But he’s always been there for me.  Even when he pretends to not care, it’s pretty obvious he does.” Wendy thought back to the little things that Stan would do sometimes, like giving her a raise to “get the IRS off his back” at around the time her family was low on cash.  Or “cleaning out his fridge” when her dad worked long hours and no one at home could cook meals.  

               “Huh.  I never noticed that before.”

               “Don’t tell him I told you, though.  He likes to pretend he’s a tough guy, when deep down, he’s a sap just like the rest of us,” Soos said fondly.  

               “Soos, Wendy, get in here!  The turkey’s gonna get cold.”


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Back home - Marco Reus oneshot

I tried to fall asleep as I couldn’t take my eyes off my phone screen expecting it to lighten up and his face appear on it, smiling. But it didn’t. I tossed and turned blaming the stiffness of my pillow for my incapability to sleep. I puffed and sighed as I tried to find some comfort in that deafening silence and eventually I just gave up and rested on my back staring at the darkness around me.

The match had finished hours ago and I still hadn’t heard from him. He usually texted or called, but not tonight. I hated how his absence gave me a hollow feeling and it turned me into this insecure human being, as if my whole existence depended on him. But the inarguable fact was that it did. It does depend on him. I do depend on him.

Ughh…I closed my eyes and heard how my hailing echoed in the room. It was slow and rhythmical. It went on for a few minutes until it all dissolved into nothing when I finally heard the turn of a key in the lock. I heard his footsteps clearly and I imagined him trying to get used to the dark of the living room, a few feet away from the bedroom.

I heard the sound of keys on the coffee table and I could tell he walked to the fridge. In a matter of seconds, he closed it shut and I knew he was headed for the bedroom as his footsteps grew closer and clearer.

My eyes were still shut and I don’t know why I made no move when he walked in. His perfume filled the room and I breathed of him and I knew how much I had missed him, him being there, near me, in our bedroom. I tried to breathe normally as I knew he was standing there, right across from me, near the door, not making a sound. I found it hard to keep myself from moving and I simply imagined him in the dark, making some effort to be quiet.

I wished he didn’t stay in the doorway anymore and he walked over to me, wrap his arms around me but he didn’t. A little hope filled me in when I heard him move from his spot, but to my utter disappointment the sound of him became distant. The perfume stayed though. And I opened my eyes, trying to send the tears away…

The room was black and I hugged my pillow making no noise, knowing for sure it would be the only thing I’d wrap my arms around tonight. I tried to make out what he was doing over the living room but I couldn’t. Maybe he had fallen asleep on the couch. I knew he must have been tired. Yet he’d rather not sleep with me.

I knew I might even regret it but I slowly got up from the bed and walked to the living room, turning on the light. He was lying on the couch, shirtless, wearing only his jeans and he turned to look at me as I walked to the couch next to him. His lips slightly parted surprised  and his eyes followed me until I finally took a seat, a few inches from his feet. His shirt was thrown on the floor and the socks as well.

I stared at his beautiful face and I wished we weren’t mad at each other. I wished I could just touch his lips with mine and fall asleep next to him. But instead I stared at him and he stared back at me, saying nothing.

I wrapped my bare legs with my arms and rested my chin on them, not parting my eyes from him. I saw him close his eyes as his hands crossed on his chest.

“Hey.” I whispered after quite some time and he opened his eyes to look back at me.

His eyes were familiar. Very familiar. They were a part of me now. The chill, the warmth, the scolding, the begging, all in one.

“I scored tonight.” I heard him say the first words and he stared at me as he spoke.

I had seen it. “And I was not there.” He kept staring at me and I felt the weight of his eyes on me, but I didn’t pull back though.

“No.” He simply said and I couldn’t tell whether there was a reprimanding anywhere in there.

“Do you want me to apologize?” I asked and he smirked nonchalantly.

“You should go to bed.” He replied and closed his eyes again.

I felt rage come to me and I loudly sighed as I got up from the couch, turned off the light and walked to my bedroom door. I stopped in my track and took a deep breath before I turned to get a glimpse of his blonde hair a few feet from me.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Marco. For not being there.” I spoke out loud hoping I’d get an answer but he made no move, no sound.

Nothing. Hurt, I just got back to bed, feeling the tears in my throat again. If sleeping was hard earlier when he was not home, I knew that sleeping was not even an option now, when he was only a few feet away from me, finding it hard to sleep too. Or maybe he was already asleep, he was tired after all. Maybe it didn’t affect him that much. Maybe he didn’t care that much.

The thought of him consumed me, all of me as I breathed of him, I thought of him, I felt of him.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, hugging my pillow alone in the dark, until I felt a pair of cold hands wrap around me. I felt his breath on my neck as he slowly pulled me to him, tightening his arms around me.

I sighed and felt warm as he covered me with his body. I felt his lips touch the skin of my neck and I felt relieved he was there, hugging me. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it softly, smelling the vanilla soap on his fingers.

“I am sorry too, love.” He whispered in my neck and I knew I was smiling, happy he was back to me, all over again.

“It was beautiful.” I said rolling over to see as much of his face as I could see in the dark.  

“What was?” He asked softly.

“The goal.” I replied smiling. He smiled too and he came closer to meet his most delicious lips with mine. I felt as if I was back in heaven. I was back home…

tagged by @alphacactus to list a bunch of stuf about me ily 

Rules: answer 20 questions and tag 20 followers you would like to get to know better.

NAME: Hilary
NICKNAME: H is a p big one for my coworkers/boss and Hil is a big one for pals
HEIGHT: 5′0.5″
ETHNICITY: mainly scottish/german/ukrainian
ORIENTATION: *nsync voice* it aint no lie baby bi bi bi (bi bi)
FAVOURITE FRUIT: mangoes and raspberries
FAVOURITE FLOWERS: daffodils and tulips
FAVOURITE SCENT: lemon mr clean
FAVOURITE ANIMAL: all animals except like bugs
AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 4-9 lmao it fluctuates wildly
NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH: one like comforter/duvet and 5 fleece blankets i need that blanket weight
BLOG CREATED: march 2012 :/

tagging: @ravensram @nakmorkesh @iseektheholygrail @nishinoyua @bokutou @reinhardtyou @aahsoka @knifegoblin @cookiewhore @onceuponaprime @one-doesnt-simply-walk-in-bagend @starshepard @rainbowoniice @vadania @heal-the-broken-hearts @buckingforbucky idk thats all i can think of rn…ofc if any of u don’t want to do this its all good!!! 

anonymous asked:

I've heard that those who those touch with one of their senses are much more aware of others like smell. Do you have a favorite scent, Mr. Host?

“‘Why, yes, actually,’ the Host responds with a grin. ‘My favourite scent is the smell of old books. I just love the smell that they give off, which is why I like to sleep in my library from time to time. It gives me a tranquility, a feeling of safety, that not much else can achieve.’

“‘And you’re right; my sense of smell is stronger now that I can’t see. I can also hear things quite well.’“

What a loss. The world of cinema misses you and I miss you too.

Philippe Seymour Hoffman

Catching Up

This ficlet is part of the Jamie Through the Stones AU which starts with Third Time’s the Charm.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from Acquaintances Renewed

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Written in the Stones

This Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet alludes to information/events that appear in Voyager.

Let me know what you think.

Keep reading

Liar, Liar

As Star has to leave Earth to pursue her royal duties on Mewni, deeper feelings begin to emerge. The one-shot is based on this trashy thing I wrote last month, with a few differences here and there. It’s also on 

Hope you enjoy!

Just as a pink glare of magic from the wand flashed before her eyes, all the books on Star’s bookcases started to march, one by one, towards the huge trunk sitting in the middle of the Mewni-styled bedroom. With a gracious series of movements, all while muttering a sequence of spells in her Mewnian language, the princess carefully guided the books to their destination, making sure that her wand wouldn’t accidentally summon unnecessary narwhal-beasts or cute, rabid, flying critters. The books were one of the last things Star put in her magical, virtually bottomless travel trunk: her regal, tower-shaped, three-stories bedroom was unnaturally empty, so much so that she could hear her own echo. Only thing she kept outside was her fancy-looking bed, as she still needed a place to sleep for one last night.

Packing all the stuff she brought from Mewni was a slow process, the complete opposite of the fast, explosive magic she cast during her first day on Earth, in the once tiny room that her foster family, the Diaz, reserved for all the other exchange students. One full year passed since then and lots of things have changed. Over time, the princess learned to control her powerful magic wand, realizing how truly dangerous it could potentially be to herself and her loved ones. While the wand-mastering earned her the long-awaited, deserved praise from her usual strict Mother, this also meant that her training was over and that she had to go back to her Kingdom, Mewni, to eventually pursue her royal duties and even become Queen someday.

Star reluctantly kept thinking about her glittering, royal destiny, mindlessly watching the stream of books marching towards the bottomless trunk. But she snapped back to reality the moment she heard somebody knocking to her door.

“Come in!” she said, smiling at her guest.

Keep reading

Secrets - Chapter 3

Chapter One: The Safe House
Chapter Two: Bedtime Stories

Here’s Chapter 3!  Hope you enjoy and stay tuned for Chapter 4!

CHAPTER 3:  Of Frogs and Flirts

Morning came later than expected. Rubbing her eyes, Mercy broke into a near panic when she saw Jr wasn’t curled up next to her. That was until her eyes fell on the clock.

“11:00AM!?” She practically fell from the bed. She’d never slept in this late before. Heavens, what would the others think! She was supposed to be up at the crack of dawn and here she was missing morning breakfast. There was no way she could chew on something now, especially with noon right around the corner. And everyone knew that Mrs. Morrison’s lunches were to die for. Then again, anything she made was to die for.

Scooting into the bathroom down the hall, she stripped before taking a quick shower. She didn’t even bother to scrub her skin down. She could always do that later-like tomorrow. Right now, she had to rush though this and see what the crew was up to.

Gosh, she thought to herself, how embarrassing!

Towel now wrapped around her blonde hair, she started to apply her eyeliner and mascara. When had she started to look so pale. What happened to her color? Was she really overworking herself? She turned to inspect her nude form further.

Not a wrinkle in sight. Perks of being a top medical scientist with the latest and greatest tech. Heh, if only. The real reason was a little less ethical. Unable to get live subjects to test a new treatment on, Mercy decided to do it on herself. Thankfully, the results were overwhelmingly positive, sans the fact that everyone still thought she was 21 and not 37. Was that really a bad thing? Perhaps, if she was trying to catch the eyes of younger men. However, she preferred older, more experienced as to those damned, cocky youngins.

Patting off her still-wet skin, she started to dress herself. It was nothing overly fancy. A pair of bright orange shorts with black laces up the sides to make them look a little more badass. They really showed off her legs, one of her better features (or so Jack Morrison always used to tell her). A nice, crop-top white shirt with a large swoop in the back covered her chest. So what if they could see her lacy white bra? She had nothing to hide! Besides, everyone knew she was a Victoria’s Secret kind of gal; Dream Angel being her favorite bra set for obvious reasons. Not to mention, none would complain about her more-exposed form. She was just as toned and lean as the rest, despite spending more time in the back of the lines rather than right up front with all the action.

Dropping the other towel, she ran a hand through her hair. Tossing her hair up in a sloppy pony tail, she nodded to herself. “Yeah,” she quipped, “that’ll do.”

Towels now up over the rustic-themed shower curtain, she left the room and followed the sound of lively chatter. It eventually brought her to the kitchen, where Tracer and McCree were learning how to cook Mrs. Morrison’s famed shepherd’s pie. Dinner would be delicious! And then there wad DVa, who looked bored because she was given the task of ‘stirring’ the cream (likely the topping for some sweet dessert).

“If you continue at that slow rate, you’ll lose the game,” Mercy teased. DVa instantly started to stir with a passion much like she had in her games. “Much better. Keep it up and you’ll advance to the next level.”

A quick, dry kiss met her cheek. “Someone was sleepy,” Mrs. Morrison teased.

“Where’s my little Jacky?” She welcomed the chilled cup of coffee that fell into her hands. Breathing it in, she purred at that rich vanilla scent. Mrs. Morrison spoiled her and she knew it. She took several large sips, smiling more and more after each one went down.

“He went out fishing right at the crack of dawn.”

Mid-drink, she stopped. Mercy’s head swiveled to Mr. Morrison who was peeling potatoes next to Junkrat. “Uh?” Her brow quirked. “With who? Dad’s over there.” She pointed and Mr. Morrison waved lightly.

“Jacky demanded to go fishing with that guy with the mask.” Mrs. Morrison tapped the backside of a spoon against her lips. “69?”

Mr. Morrison chuckled to himself.

Covering her lips, Mercy joined him. “76 but close enough,” she said before wandering over to the sliding door. She didn’t really like the idea of her son fishing with the mysterious 76 but… well, what could she do. They were already gone.

Drinking another sip of her iced vanilla-mocha coffee, she sighed happily while inspecting the view outside. The lawn was absolutely lovely; green as could be. Not too far out in it wandered Skippy. He was chasing a leaf, which made her smirk slightly to herself. Oh! There was a gust of wind, which caused the cowardly cat to sprint across the lawn and onto the porch. He jumped up on a chair and curled around himself. Nothing like a catnap, right?

Head turning just slightly to the side, she looked over at the horses that grazed peacefully in the shade of a large oak tree. Her lovely pinto looked healthy as ever, which caused her to smile. The newest horse, the offspring of Jack’s old horse, stood beside her pinto (the mother). According to Mr. Morrison, that colt was a nasty little thing. It wouldn’t let anyone near it. Apparently it had been that way for the past year. They spoke of selling it but just couldn’t. It reminded them of their Jack too much.

Hand falling on her heart, Mercy sighed happily. She was so thankful to have such a wonderful family. Really, the Morrisons were her everything. They took her in and called her their own, even though she never married their Jack.

“MAMA, MAMA, MAMA,” a voice echoed off the barn and house.

Sliding the door open, she stepped out. That’s when she spied her little guy running as fast as he could with a big, plastic bucket in his hands. Water was sloshing out of it, which made her assume he caught a fish.

Eyes panning past the younger blonde, she caught 76 who was running after Jr and carrying an even bigger bucket. He was struggling with it too as he was also trying to balance the tackle box as well as the two fishing poles. He was doing a hell of a job too. It was also nice to see that he was responsible enough to keep a wary eye on her son. Maybe 76 wasn’t that bad. Or maybe he just had a soft spot for kids?

Either way, both looked absolutely ridiculous.

Again, her hands moved to her lips. Stifling her laugh, Mercy moved toward the railing on the hand-made wooden porch. She leaned into it and shook her head.

Out of breath, Jr stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Ma-ma,” he panted, “look.” He set down the bright red bucket to pull out a-

“AAHHH!” Mercy’s hands went flying, which sent the remaining coffee splashing every which way. “GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME,” she screamed while moving to the other side of the deck. She needed to put as much space between her and that monstrosity.

But Jr wouldn’t let her get away. Fat bullfrog still in his hands, he crept up the stairs with the frog at arm’s length. The wry little grin on his face a surefire sign that he was enjoying this. “Oh mama, it’s just a little froggie.”

“THAT IS NOT LITTLE,” she set her mug on the railing before hopping over it. Safe on the side, she dropped down on the lawn below. The railing was her sanctuary. He was still too little to hop over it so he was trapped on that deck while she stood proud and safe on the ground.

“Where are you going,” he moved closer to her, now dangling the frog over her head. That devilish look still in his eyes. He was up to something and she wasn’t sure what it was.

Then, then it happened.

That fat sucker kicked off his thumb, breaking free. The look on Jr’s face proof that he wasn’t expecting this to happen. Frog leaping forward, Mercy’s eyes widened with fear as the oversize frog landed in h-

“AAAAAAH!” She shrilled while shaking her hands feverishly over her head. “GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!” She danced frantically as the bullfrog landed square on her head. It flopped around helplessly as she panicked.

With all her flailing, the damn thing managed to fall down her face and unto her chest. Just as slimy and gross as she remembered them to be. The screaming heightened to the point where Jr had to cover his ears. Granted, his laughing didn’t stop. Nor did the fact that he needed to pee so bad because this was too funny! He was doing the 'I have to pee but don’t want to leave dance’ while waiting his mom freak out.

A pair of hands appeared around her breasts. Face flushing red, she looked up to see a masked man with a red visor dangerously close to her.


She wanted to scream pervert but the bullfrog wedged between his fingers was what kept the words from falling out. He wasn’t groping her. He was saving her from the disgusting creature!

He was smiling. Laughing. She could hear him laughing from beneath that mask. Squinting her eyes, she growled. “You’ll p-”

The frog jerked within his grasp. It managed to wiggle just enough to break free and land on the earth just before Mercy’s nude toes.

The world froze.

All was silent as she stared down at that godawful creature. Then, after the dramatic pause, resumed her screaming.

“SAVE ME!” She howled before jumping right up into 76’s arms. Lucky for her, his reflexes were impeccable. She wrapped around his from, legs kicking and arms clinging.

Snug and secure in his arms, she let out of breath of relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she kept repeating with a quivering voice. Her heart thundering within her chest as she was absolutely terrified that the frog would magically appear again.

“Uh,” 76’s head nodded toward her backside.

Mercy slowly turned her head to find the face of a fat-ass frog just inches from her own. Beads of sweat instantly grew on her forehead and all the color on her face vanished.

The screaming came again and Jr broke into a fit of laughs. Pushing the frog closer, he cackled. “Mama, it’s just a little ol-”

“THERE IS NOTHING LITTLE ABOUT THAT DEVIL!” Recoiling, she burrowed back into 76’s chest. It was soft, warm, and safe. And, most importantly, frog-less. Helped that he was so much taller so there was no way the frog could get to her now, especially as he rolled her up further!

“I think you’ve scared her enough,” 76 finally said to Jr who only sighed with disappointment.

“But it’s funny,” he pleaded.

Mercy caught Jr’s coy little smirk in 76’s visor. She also saw his reflection wink.


Why was he…

Mercy’s cheeks flushed. Her palms were pressed against and parallel to 76’s firm chest. She was touching him. She was in his arms.

Was this all…

“JACK JR!” she bellowed while trying to squirm from 76’s firm grip. “WHY I’M GOING TO KILL YO-”

The embrace was tranquilizing. Unexpected.

Pink lips falling apart, she turned her head to meet that familiar visor again. The red glare from it didn’t help for it only made her cheeks look even redder. Granted, they were pretty red to behind with.

Gulping down a thick lump that formed in the back of her throat, she gingerly brushed her fingertips against his pecks. God, how had she not noticed how hot he was? Especially in this black Underarmor that revealed every rippling, sexy muscle. That leather jacket with the 76 didn’t do him justice.

Just what did he look like under that mask, she wondered before chewing her lip.

Brushing back a loose strand of her hair, she turned her burning cheeks away. “Thanks,” she muttered, still embarrassed that she fell right into their trap.

76 smirked before slowly letting her drop from his arms. When she was back on firm ground, the blonde woman retreated around his backside. Where was the frog, she wondered.

“Go put him in the pond over there,” 76 instructed and Jr complied. As he ran with the slimy creature to the water, Mercy found herself admiring 76’s backside.

He looked good in those cargo shorts. Too good.

Tongue running over her lips, she thought back to the last time she was actually with someone. It was too long ago and with this cool glass of water in front of her, she was really hoping that sexless streak would end soon.

“However can I reward you,” she purred while stroking his spine. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice his body shutter and then relax. He enjoyed that touch almost as much as she did.

“Re-ward… me?” 76 started to turn around, curious as to what she was implying.

“You saved me from the wretched monster.” Her breath kissed his mask and he drank in her sweet vanilla-mocha scent. “I owe you.” Flitting her lashes, she smiled right up at his 6-1" form.

76 faltered. He wasn’t expecting his. She was…was she hitting on him?

Gulping, he shrugged. “Just doing what’s necessary. No need for thanks,” he rattled off in an over-rehearsed tone.

“Uh-huh,” she stepped closer. Her fingers walked across his chest.

“Ma'am,” his voice quivered.

“It’s Angela,” she corrected.

God, if he wasn’t wearing that damned mask!

“Lunch is ready,” a familiar voice called from the deck. It was Tracer.

Mercy’s cheeks burned red again. She had completely forgotten that their was an audience behind them. God, just how much had they seen? Everything?

“Heh,” she whimpered before retreating toward the house that she had her back to.

She fanned herself a bit before taking a seat beside Mr. Morrison who, naturally, leaned into her. “You sure it’s not 69,” he teased. She smacked him and he rubbed his sore arm. The way she smirked caused her to growl. Again, he laughed.

The door slid open behind her, which caused Mercy to look over her shoulder. A large, orange belly was now before her very eyes. “I see you found Skippy,” she leaned back to take the cat into her arms. “Go wash your hands,” she instructed.

The door opened again. This time 76 entered.

“C'mon,” Jr took 76’s hands into his own. “Mama says we gotta wash.”

“Your mama’s a smart woman.”

They vanished down the hall.

“You know,” Tracer took a seat across from Mercy, “he’s not that bad. I was worried he would end up being a pain.” She plopped her chin into her hands. “But he seems to have lightened up. A lot. I think Jr’s helping.”

“Jr does that,” Mercy smiled. “He’s always been able to bring out the good in people.”

“Mama,” Jr was back in the room. “Did you see all the fish we caught?”

She wore a flat expression. “How could I? I was attacked by a frog.”

“Oh yeah,” he rubbed his foot against the back of his leg. “I forgot.”

“How could you forget that,” she huffed.

Jr poked out his tongue before taking a seat. He patted off to the side of it. “You get to sit here,” he said to 76.

76 just stood their. Baffled.

“Sit, sit,” he instructed. “And take off your mask. No masks at the dinner table.”

76 remained standing. He was starving but how could he eat with everyone. He couldn’t show off who he was. Not now. Not ever.

Jr shook his head before running away. Seconds later, he came back with a pair of sunglasses and a ninja mask. “Put this on and I suppose I’ll let you wear the sunglasses inside.” He was awfully cheeky. Damn kid.

Smirking, 76 took the black ninja mask that would cover his entire face, sans his mouth and jaw, as well as the sunglasses. Moving away from the crowd, he applied the new coverings. They weren’t what he wanted, but at least he could eat with everyone now.

When 76 returned, Jr wore a large grin. “Better?” Jr knew he had won.

“Thanks,” his hand ruffled Jr’s blond hair. Taking the seat right next to the kid, 76’s still-hidden face looked over at Mercy. “Smart kid,” he added.

“He’s clever like his father.” She responded.

After lunch, came cleanup. Since 76 and Mercy both missed out on cooking, they were left to clean everything up. Everyone else went outside to either play volleyball in the back or lay in the sun and work on their tans.

Plunging her hands into the hot, soapy water, she began scrubbing away at the plates. Pulling a clean one from the water, she rinsed it with cold water before passing it off to 76.

This routine of Mercy washing and 76 drying started in silence until 76 finally spoke.

“Kid’s quite the fisherman,” he stately plainly.

Mercy looked up, a small smile on her face. “He’s just like his father. Jack loved to fish; said it was the best way to get your mind off things.”

“He’s right,” 76 commented, though added nothing more.

“So how many did you catch?”

“Enough to have fish tacos for lunch tomorrow.”

“Mmmm!” Her eyes closed as she buzzed happily. “I haven’t had those in forever.” Her mind went back to the last time she and Jack made fish tacos after catching some fish. That day seemed like forever again. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized just how much she missed her golden haired hero. The glow in her eyes soon faded and a frown slipped onto her face.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. It…it was just a meal Jack and I used to make.” She looked broken. Sad.

Forcing herself to clear her mind, she started to work on cleaning the folks. The sponge dipped between the prongs before grazing over the flat surfaces. She would just focus on cleaning. Talking about Jack hurt, especially now that she was back home.

“We left around 6,” 76 began. It caused Mercy to look up and over at him with quirked brows. “Fishing. Skippy went into your room and started to meow. Jr got up to feed him and saw me sitting on the front porch. He asked what I was doing; told him I wanted to go fishing but didn’t know if I could.” He smirked, it was visible on his face as he hadn’t changed back to his own mask yet. “He took my hand and pulled me into the barn. Told me where everything was and said the wagon was broken. Told me we would have to carry our own buckets and poles all the way out there.”

Setting down the dried fork, he moved onto another one. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal so I said yes.” 76 scoffed. “Your son conveniently left out that it was a good 30-minute hike to the fishing hole.” Shaking his head, he laughed lightly. “He was spry as ever. I was still trying to untangle the fishing poles that he twisted together.”

“That’s Jr for you,” she purred. “He gets to excited and doesn’t pay attention to the lines and how they cross.”

“Oh trust me,” 76 interrupted. “I know. The damn kid kept tossing his line over mine. I swear I spent half the time untangling our lines. The other half of the time, I was busy putting on worms or chicken.”

“He does that. He throws the line so hard that the bait flings right off. Then he wonders why he can’t catch anything.”

“Oh no, he was catching stuff. He just didn’t know how to reel it in fast enough. Kept losing his fish. Eventually decided that it didn’t make sense for me to fish with his impeccable luck.”

“So what did you do?” Mercy set down her sponge. Resting her rump against the counter, she watched 76 tell his story…

“What’s your real name,” Jr asked while leaning up against 76. “Real, real name. Not your Overwatch name.” He happily kicked his legs that danged over the edge of the dock. As he was still short, his toes didn’t touch the water yet. 76 on the other hand? The water came up past his ankles as he sat there on the dock.

There was no one in sight. This lake wasn’t frequented as much as it used to be. The town had changed a lot since he had last been there. In five years, the population plummeted. It made sense though. With bandits, raiders, robots, Talon-whatever popping up all over the place, out in the middle of nowhere didn’t seem as safe.

If only they knew it was probably the safest. If you had to assassinate a ton of people, you would go to a city. Not bumfuck nowhere.

“Well?” Jr’s head rested against his ribs. “What is it?”

“Soldier 76.” He responded.

“I said real name. Your parents did not name you Soldier 76,” he said in a robotic voice.

“No,” 76 chuckled, “they didn’t.”

“So what is it really?”

“What would you like it to be?” 76 wasn’t sure why he asked it, but it was too late to retract his question now.

“Hmmmm,” Jr rubbed his chin, which caused his grip on the pole to loosen. Thankfully, 76 was on top of things so he grabbed it before it fell into the water. “Oops.” Again, he rubbed his chin. “You know,” his head snapped up to look at 76’s hidden face, “I think it would be cool if you were named Jack.”

“Like you?” 76 commented.

“Yeah,” the kid nodded firmly. “We could be best friends. Jack and Jack Jr!” He stood up, but realized his footing was far from perfect. To prevent himself from falling over, he planted a firm hand on 76’s shoulder. “We could go everywhere together.” His hands opened up above his head. “We could save the world and be heroes, just like my dad.”

Wiggling his butt, Jr picked at a wedgie. Once fixed, he waddled over to 76 and plopped himself in the man’s lap. “Can I call you Jack?” He rolled his head back against the man’s chest. His large blue eyes staring 76 down.

“I’d be honored,” 76 leaned forward to nuzzle Jr’s nose with his mask.

“Teeheehee,” the boy giggled before sighing happily. “Jack,” his tone took a serious twist, “it this what it’s like to have a dad?”

76 fell silent for a moment. His heart sunk and he felt a pit form in his stomach. This was torture. His beautiful son was sitting on his lap, confessing that he wanted to become a hero. He was a chip off the old block and he… he wasn’t there for him. Instead, this kid thought he was dead and was now putting his love and faith into this mysterious 76, that he decided to nickname Jack.

Oh if only the little guy knew!

“Jack,” Jr’s eyes fell back on him again. The kid was smart, always knowing exactly where to look. It was as if his visor was invisible, and it caused 76 to shudder.

“Yeah,” he finally said in a soft, airy voice. Holding the pole in one hand, he took the other and brushed it through his son’s hair. “I think so.”

Jr grew a smile. Again, his head fell against 76’s chest. “Do you like my mama?”

The question came out of nowhere, which caught 76 off guard. He squirmed under the question, and Jr was quick to catch this gesture.

“Ooooooh,” his lips rounded into a large circle. “You do, you do.” His lips pushed together as a devilish shine gleamed in his azure eyes. “Mama and 76 sitting in a tree, k-i-x-ing.”

His spelling was off but that didn’t matter.

76 pulled back from Jr. He was trying to distance himself from the prying little bugger. How dare he get all cute and sappy! It was all a ploy. He was purposely breathing 76’s heart to pop the real question-getting his mom a husband.

He managed to scoot out from under Jr, which caused the little blonde to laugh. “Ooooh you really do like her. You want to kiss her?” He crawled along the wooden dock, easily catching up to 76 who was scooting across it on his rump. “You want to hold her?” He was getting closer. “You want to marry her,” his little nose was just inches from his mask.

Then he stopped and sat back on his butt. “I know how to help.” The words were nonchalant. It was disturbing how devious this five-year-old was. He was wicked smart. Clever and deceiving. The next James Bond.

“How,” he was kicking himself for engaging in this conversation. But his feelings for Mercy still hadn’t faded. If he stood a chance with Angela, this kid might just be the key.

“She hates frogs. I’ll go get one and give it to her. She’ll run away and look for someone to save her.” He pointed right at 76. “And then you’ll come in and save her.”

76 laughed. “Really think that would work?”

“Yup!” He nodded. “Trust me. I know mama. She loves her heroes.”

Hand moving forward, he ruffled Jr’s hair. “Well if you’re sure,” he teased, “then I guess we have to give it a try.”

“Trust me,” Jr snickered, “it’ll work.”

Granted, 76 didn’t share all of his story. He went into detail about how they caught their first fish. And how he fell into the lake because Jr pushed him. He mentioned the water fight they had and how Jr wanted to bring home 3 bullfrogs but he insisted on just one. He purposely left out the part of the frogs and wooing her.

“Three?” Her eyes bugged out. “I think I would have died.”

“I would have saved you,” 76 didn’t hold back.

Mercy caught this bold comment, which caused her to smirk. “Was that the plan?” She stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest once more. “I saw that little wink you two exchanged.” Mercy leaned in more. “I know you two were scheming.”

“Can you blame me,” he answered confidently.

His quick, firm response caused her to smirk again. “Why if I didn’t know better,” her fingertips met his chiseled chest again, “I would say Soldier 76 has me in his sights.”

His sexy, side grin caused her to grin in return.

Heartbeat picking up the pace, she took one step closer to him. Rolling her head up, she rose onto her tiptoes. He leaned down some. His heart skipped a beat when he felt her warm breath wrap around his nude lips.

“Mama, mama!” The door flung open and the two adults pulled away. 76 nervously picked up an already dry plate and Mercy shoved her hands into the soapy water.

“Y-yes dear?” She pretended she was busy while turning her head to him.

His large, all-knowing blue eyes narrowed. “I might be five years old,” he stepped closer, “but I’m not stupid.”

Mercy’s facade broke. A sheepish grin crossed over her face. “Whatever could you mean?” she stammered out.

“I saw you looking at that dessert.” He stepped closer. “Mama always sticks her fingers in the frosting and ruins grandma’s hard work.” He shook a finger at her before turning to 76. “Jack,” he stated loud and clear, “it is your duty as a soldier to ensure she doesn’t touch that pie. Got it?”

76 nodded firmly. “Understood, Commander.” He saluted the boy who ran off down the hall to use the potty.

“Jack?” Mercy’s brows furrowed.

“He didn’t like calling me 76.”

“But…why Jack?”

“Said he wanted us to have the same name.” 76 shrugged. “Who was I to argue. Didn’t want to upset him so I said yes.”

The look of hope in her eyes fell. Sighing, her shoulders curled forward; she turned away to drain the sink. “Oh.”

With her back to him, 76 moved behind her, engulfing her completely with his form. As he wrapped around her, she rolled right into his embrace.

“We should finish where we left off,” his tongue ran along her ear.

A light moan followed as she pressed further against his firm body. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time. She had been missing this kind of contact. It just sucked that this was the house of her dead ex-boyfriend. The man who fathered her only child.

“We,” she fought to say the words, “we shouldn’t. Not here.” She couldn’t mar Jack’s legacy by screwing some other man in his home.

“I doubt he would mind,” 76 whispered.


Mercy’s body jerked forward. Arms up, she pried her way out from 76’s embrace. She wore a scowl on her face. He was just as bad as every one else. Only thinking about himself and not the complications that Mercy would have to endure. This was her ex-lover’s house. It would have been her ex-lover’s bed.

Only 76 wasn’t thinking like that. He was thinking, his house, his bed. He had momentarily forgotten that he wasn’t Jack Morrison. That he was the mysterious Soldier 76.

Realizing his mistake, 76 reached a hand forward. “I-I… that’s not what I meant.” Could he save this?


A hand landed across his cheek. If he was wearing his mask, he wouldn’t have felt a damn thing. But the sting from her hand touching his raw flesh, well, he felt every inch of it.

Grunting, he rubbed the tender spot before catching the blonde running toward the screen door and then out on to the deck. “Mercy,” he took a step forward. “Angela, wait. I, I can explain!” He rushed forward. Running out the open door, he paused on the deck.

Where did she run off to? It couldn’t have been far.

A familiar whinny caught his attention. Eyes jerking to the horse pasture, he saw Mercy race off on her brown and white mare.

Moving toward the steps, he finally stopped. There was no way he could catch her on that thing. And his horse had passed away about a year ago so it wasn’t like he could hop on his old partner and ride after her. That and it would be blatantly obvious that he was Jack Morrison. The Jack Morrison.

Instead, he cursed under his breath and wandered back inside.

“She does that sometimes,” the voice behind him caused his hair to stand on ends. “She’ll be back though. She likes to ride the trails. Says it helps her.” He shrugged. “So,” he rung his hands together, “want to go fix that wagon in the barn with me?”

I apologize for the delay.  I was off on Thursday and had to play catchup on Friday.  Anyway, my Thursday adventures helped shape this chapter.  We went to see the frog exhibit at the museum.  And this guy, well, he needed to make an appearance.  

Such fat.  Much chubbs. Wow.

Here’s your link to Chapter 4 -  Unmasked:

anonymous asked:

Sterek Back of a police car :P

This was going to be all sexy and stuff but, uh. I’m not sure what happened.

Stiles would like to say this is the first time he’s been slung unceremoniously into the back of a police car, but he’d be lying – being a cop’s kid, he’s pretty sure the odds of him spending his teenage years as a budding petty criminal were astronomical even before werewolves got involved – though he can honestly say he hasn’t seen the interior of one in several years.

 He’s twenty nine, now: he hasn’t been arrested since he was sixteen. He has a mortgage, for crying out loud!

 Stiles isn’t even sure how he got here – it’s all a blur, really. One minute, he’d been making coffee and grumbling about Mr. Parker’s cats scent-marking his porch, and it seemed like mere seconds later that he’d spotted Derek—Deputy Hale to you, Mr. Stilinski—in his well-fitted uniform

 So, it’s not the first time Stiles has been shoved into the back of a cop’s car.

Keep reading

One Minute

Title: The Haven

Chapter 43: One Minute

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: Prickly Pear and Angel Face watch “Henry V” together.  There may or may not be a lot of a teensy bit of Haven in the opinions contained herein.  You have been warned.  And ICYMI Chapter 42 - Reunion :)


“Darling, has it occurred to you that we have never watched one of my films together?  In fact, we never talk about my work.”

I glanced up at her from the couch in the office.  It was the day after the reunion and she was sitting at the desk, working on payroll for the month.  

“What?” she asked absent-mindedly, squinting at the computer screen and pushing back some loose dark strands from her face.  

“We haven’t watched one of my films together.  Would you like to do that today?  Maybe Henry V?  You’ve never once given me a critique and I know it isn’t because you don’t have an opinion.”

Keep reading

Show Me How Part 2 - Luke

This was requested by quite a few people. Thank you for that! 😊 ———-

You turn to give Luke a small smile as he laces his fingers through yours, under the table. You’d asked if you could keep your relationship quiet for a while, he’d complained about it, but eventually gave in and agreed. Everyone had always known the two of you as best friends, made jokes about how “you might as well be married”. You didn’t want this to be the centre of attention, the main topic of conversation at every social gathering, and everyone wanting to know every detail in the development in your relationship. You just wanted to be with Luke. His main complaint had been not being able to kiss you in public. You’d promised to make up for that, so after pouting for a while, he’d compromised.

“Is anyone getting another drink?” Calum asks, standing up to walk to the bar.

“Could you get me vodka tonic, please?” Y/F/N asks, grinning as he rolls his eyes.

“Do you want a drink?” Luke glances at your mouth, smirks, then looks back up to your eyes.

“Will you stop?” You nudge his arm, “and yeah, can I have a bottle of Thatchers, please?”

“Ugh, I always forget you drink cider” Ashton scoffs.

“Shush, Mr ‘I love scented candles’” you scoff back, dramatically. Luke grins and murmurs a “that’s my girl” under his breath.

“Thanks, ba…bro” you quickly correct yourself, as Luke comes back and places your drink in front of you.

“Bro?” He whispers, smiling.

“Shut up, I panicked” you mutter in reply. He places his hand on your leg, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. You knew wearing a skirt was asking for trouble, jeans are always the right option where Luke was concerned.

“My little brother wants to learn the guitar” Y/F/N’s voice interrupts Luke’s current focus of trying to drive you crazy.

“I’ll teach him” he takes a gulp of his beer, “I’m a good teacher, aren’t I, Y/N?” He turns to you, smirking. His hand doesn’t stop, his fingers getting closer to where you really don’t need them to be while you’re sat in a bar with your friends.

“Not really, you get distracted easily” you raise an eyebrow at him, your breath hitching as his hand squeezes your inner thigh.

“I swear that 80% of the time I have no idea what you two are talking about” Michael shakes his head, “it’s like you’re on a planet that only inhabits the two of you.” Luke grins widely at you.

“Stop smiling at me, you loser” without thinking, you run your fingers through his hair and pull him to you, kissing him softly. You freeze as you realise what you’ve done and turn to see everyone staring at you.

“That was all you! I didn’t say anything!” Luke argues, “Right, everyone might as well know now. Yes, we are together. Ugh, finally. All this secret keeping has been difficult.” He pulls your face back to his and kisses you again.

“Ugh, does this mean we have to put up with this all the time?” Calum pulls a face.

“Yes” Luke mutters against your lips.

“No!” You laugh, pushing him away “but we should probably be going. I’m really tired.” You’re aware that your lie is awful, but you can still feel where Luke’s hand was on your thigh, so you’re too preoccupied to be thinking of a good excuse to get out of there.

“Yeah, I bet you are” Michael smirks, making Ashton chuckle.


“Why did you want to leave so quickly, bro?” Luke pushes you against the door of your bedroom, as soon as it’s closed.

“I thought you could show me some more, and I didn’t think the people at our table would have appreciated the lesson” you tug on his lower lip with your teeth.

“What do you want me to show you?” He pins your arms above your head, kissing along your neck.

“Everything, Luke” your words barely a whisper.

“Are you sure?” He stops the slow torture on your neck to look at you. You nod, needing his mouth on your skin again. Moving your hands to his hair, he quickly takes hold of them and pins them back against the wall. He smirks as you frown at him.

“I want to touch you” you groan. Grinning, he shakes his head.

“No, this is all about you, baby” he moves his hands to your waist, “fuck, stop biting your lip. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Luke, will you please do something?” You squirm as he steps away from you.

“Eager” he grins, then suddenly picks you up, making you wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you over to your bed. His hands and mouth never leave your body, constantly kissing your skin, hands everywhere, squeezing and caressing every part of you.

“Luke, I want to touch you” you whine, frustrated that he keeps stilling his actions every time you try to move your hands to his body.

“You said I got easily distracted” he moves upwards to place a kiss on the end of your nose, “I don’t want to be, this is about you.”

So he makes it all about you. He eventually gives in and let’s you touch him though, he needs your soft, warm hands on his body. Yet he doesn’t allow you to distract him from his main focus: you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you” he murmurs against your lips, over and over. Making sure you knew exactly how much you meant to him, in his words and his actions.

sleepy sunday mornings at baker street
  • Waking up to the scent of Mrs. Hudson’s scones as she bakes below them
  • John pressing soft, sleepy kisses on Sherlock’s shoulder blade because finding his lips is too much effort this early 
  •  Sherlock groaning and covering his eyes at the ray of light that managed to shine its way through the curtains 
  • Just laying in bed, basking in each other’s warmth, legs tangled in a mess of sheets 
  • Finally getting up and completing their morning routines around each other, navigating with little casual touches. LITTLE CASUAL TOUCHES.
  • Sherlock wrapping himself around John and resting his head on John’s shoulder while John attempts to make eggs
  • Snuggling up on the sofa, watching telly, wrapped in the comforter pulled from their bedroom
  • John playing with Sherlock’s hair until Sherlock starts snoring softly beside him
  • John giving in to his laziness and napping beside him, despite how cramped the sofa is after Sherlock sprawls out on it