#and diana finally got her gray hair!!

[localwhoore]

can you write a fic where the logan sergeant defenders are all drivers and noelle gets into a fist fight with logan?

DRIVERS ????

WARNING QND DISCLAIMERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

consented racism and unconsented ageism against noelle obviously under the cut

and also my opinions dont cancel me over this stupid shit tjanks 😁😁

red bull

goatifi

-> 2x wdc, clutched up AD21 and took the checkered flag 10 times (scoring an extra 250 points) and won the championship instead of max or lewis and caused outrage. also scored a redbull seat

max verstappen

-> DUDUDUDU MAX VERSTAPPEN DUDUDUDU MAAX VERSTAPPEN no seriously he won the championship by lap 1 😞

ferrari

fernando alonso

-> future 3x wdc, promising 43 yrold rookie future of f1 who is unfortunately unable to escape the torturous clutches of ferrari (finally wins a wdc for them too)

charles leclerc

-> is chained up and shackled at the bottom of ferrari HQ and fed cold soup and stale bread twice a week and cannot be released unless its race weekend. (inspired by the james vowles c.ai bot i got bored and talked to who had alex albon, who he called alaobono, in a cage for biting williams guests. also he crawled on all fours and threw chairs and printers)

mercedes

liyah amelia grace habibi afzal @foreveralbon

-> when f1 eventually brought sepang back onto the calendar, liyah was fighting for P1 a few laps in when her engineer mentioned sightseeing at KL’s twins towers (the petronas towers). this was a mistake as upon hearing those words, liyah was immediately inhabited by the spirit and earthly energies of her late uncle: muhammad hazam “ارهابي” omar afzal, who passed down his loving lifelong legacy to her via muscle memory and pure instinct aka going back to her roots. anyways, she flung her car towards a corner with banking and projectile launched herself at 346km/h over 60km distance between her and her goal over the span of a shocking 10 minutes and 24 seconds!!! liyah escaped the incident with little injury, but the same cannot be said for those inside the towers (towers as in plural because george russell flew past her into the 2nd tower shortly after). media had an absolute fucking field day

george russell

-> misses half his races to film ads for tommy hilfiger and marriot bonvoy. toto gets pissed and kicks him out of their sleepover party which makes george severely depressed but its ok cz he gets married to carmen in his fav hotel marriot w a british royalty themed wedding (hes dressed as princess diana)

mclaren

lando norris

-> 4x wdc, paid goatifi to take out max and asked oscar to pull a kmag in saudi and decimated a 1-2 at silver stone hip hip hooray also he got fucked into the monaco hairpin barriers and was injured permanently unable to grow a pedostache

oscar piastri

-> 999x wdc, boy oh boy where do i even begin. the loml, oscar piastri. you truly are my sunshine. my only sunshine. you make me happy when skies are gray. you’ll never know dearrrrr how much i looove youuu please dont takee my sunshine awaaaaayyyyyyyy pookie wookie aookie bookie cookie dookie eookue fookie gookie hookie iookie jookie kookie lookie mookie nookie oookie pookie quookie rookie sookie tookie uookie vookue wookue xookie yookie zookie

alphatauri

yuki tsunoda

-> 50x wdc. my goat 🐐 he beat daniel 23-1 and is a fucking LEGENDDDDDD MY GOAT TRRRRRAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH YOINTS AND YUKAMPIONSHIP LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO 🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶

liam lawson

-> he finally let his hair grow out so he doesnt look like a lesbian anymore cutie patootie finally got a seat 😜😜

aston martin

avis cloostefek @aviscarrentals

-> actively trying to seduce lawrence stroll for that bank cz shes kinda broke idk the f1 life pays her less rhan she thought???? regularly breaks into the VIP area and eats all rhe food in catering because shes pasty pale white and has no cuisine culture except crackers and unseasoned boiled chicken and a side of cheese soggy french fries

lance stroll

-> justice for lance guys his dad is being seduced by a pasty white woman with very bad very severe chronic culture-less behavioural tendencies 😞

alpine..

lea @vroomvroomcircuit

-> im sorry but someone had to be in the alpine and i picked u🥰 much love!! anyways one fine typical tuesday lea remembered that her teammate is french and her deeprooted german moustache man awakened and unleashed havoc upon the french demanding her right to the land of the baguettes and croissant to be reclaimed for the return of glory for the motherlandYAA deutschland 🇩🇪 NEIN DA FÜHRER SAUSAGE 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

pierre gasly

-> french ☹️

haas

althea noelle. @disneyprincemuke

-> 10x destructors championship. an antique and prehistoric primordial being in the form of a petite pinoy creature. it has devoted to the art of racing since the dawn of time. since day was night, night was day as the two parallels of each other blurred in a flourish and spectacle of a draped veil over the vast expanse known as the horizon, since the stars aligned side by side in the darkest of hours. she raced upon the lands of pangea, upon the tallest of mountains now reduced to stones and rubble that crumble under footsteps and blow with the breeze. throughout millennia, throughout the countless frigid winters and blistering summers as she watched empires rise and fell, civilisation bloom and prosper, tyrants dictate and rebels overthrow, dynasties rule and eras whirl past like the wind, akin to momentary blips as centuries compile into memories viewed back upon within seconds. the only divinity to harbour ancient knowledge lost to time and space, lost through endless bloodshed of war as humanity tore itself apart , screaming aggressive rage and agony from the inside as flesh ripped flesh as the steady drill of what could be known as time mercilessly marched on, and waited for none. the little beam of consciousness this dingus fostered within burnt bright bold as passion strove on as fuel for her little stature (shocking). also she has yet to score a point in f1 cz she keeps twinning logan sargeant and crashing out on the 1st lap. her nickname is turn one thea 💀💀💀

TLDR; noelle is old and hasnt scored in f1

kevin magnussen

-> https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFGTu8tL/

stake kick balls sauber

zhou goatyu

-> 中国是第一！！周冠宇我爱你啊！！！请让祖国骄傲我们都支持你。周冠宇周冠宇！加油加油加油拿多分🗣️🗣️🗣️🥶🥶🥶

mclgf (now ur saubergf idk) @mclarengf

-> all hands on deck for the pitstops!!!! toby and newplayer are incharge of the tires and aria is ur race engineer turned reserve driver and tobys a development driver idfk bro 😭😭

williams

alex albon

-> james vowles character ai bot

logan sargeant

-> Oh Say, can you see By the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed At the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars Through the perilous fight O'er the ramparts we watched Were so gallantly, yeah, streaming? And the rockets' red glare The bombs bursting in air Gave proof through the night That our flag was still there O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave also twinning noelle loves crashing

safety car driver

me (i cant drive)

[nokonomi]

creepy pasta oc post ig-?

Diana Nguyen, AKA, Perfect Diana.

Diana Nguyen is a Vietnamese-American 22 year old woman from Sunnyvale, California. Raised by rich parents, a father who owns a business company and a mother who is a fashion model. Born on April 22, 1992. Her ghost form has black hair with gray flowers on her head and a gray rose on her left eye, with a crack on her right eye and a crack under her flower.

These flowers represent each flaw she had to avoid when she was younger, expectations; and perfections. And the crack represent her tragic story of how she was treated like she wasn’t the real her. Wearing a black tight crop-top with a gray dress and white leg warmers, and black boots. She also has a little broken heart necklace on her neck, and Diamond-shaped earrings on her ears. Black bangs.

She was the “perfectionist” of her family and seemingly managed to grab everyone’s attention all the time. She succeeded in academics, cheer comps, and track meets. Everything you could imagine about the “perfect” goal achiever student.

Constantly being spoiled, she got everything she wanted. But as time went by, she grew and her parents decided to make her an “actor” and so she was. She had such a warming smile, but backstage she was never content with life. She was constantly being told to be “someone else” she wasn’t, and did everything her parents and her manager asked.

Changing who she was for what her family and co-workers wanted her to be in the future. She wasn’t content and happy with this decision, but had no choice anyways. Whenever she acted out or was a bit aggressive even not the slightest, she would be locked up in a basement for 9 hours straight, which was horrible, since nobody knew what she was doing for those past hours. They brush it off and say “oh she’s fine! She’s just shopping…”

She was just suffering, and as her mental health was decreasing, trying to keep up this whole act of being perfect for the sake of her families reputation.

One day, she was doing a rehearsal, when the rope attached to her suddenly broke and she fell to the floor, and she was very high up, but managed to survive after the incident, but what shook her to the core was that she wouldn’t be able to perform for the next 5 months, and would be replaced by a much older person than her. At the time she was 15, which is really young..She could finally rest, but did she..?

How would her parents react if they saw her with a broken spine and leg? Would they react negatively? Or just be like they are as always.

A rush of emotion and worry clouded over her, but once again, she tries brushing this feeling off.

When she was finally able to get back, her manager had “told” her to come back stage. Finding it to be weird since she was supposed to rehearse for another 2 hours, he stabbed her in the back, and the last thing she heard was, “You will never be good enough.”

Passing away, her parents ended up mourning the loss of her body, but never cared to bring any gifts to her graveyard, which her spirit was enraged by. She she ended up tormenting her family for everything they did to her, and laying the heavy burden on her.

For 5 months of torment, they ended up passing away. So the next time you think of setting expectations, try and think about Perfect Diana.

[rillabrooke]

my babies 💕 (x)

bea | chandler

des | prudens

diana | diana 2.0

samael | dalton

nikki | isaac

[darwin-xf]

Love is a Verb

His dick knew things.

In general, thinking with your little head not your big one got a bad rap.

But for him? The opposite seemed to apply.

Of course he’d been mortified when he sprung to life in her hand the night before, with Scully in full on doctor mode, acting so clinical and detached. While he was so very very exposed.

A wave of anger arose in the wake of his humiliation. At her. Which wasn’t fair. She was doing him a favor, after all. Examining him, because they were stuck in a crap motel in the middle of nowhere Florida, the day after a hurricane, flights snafued, roads clogged with debris. And him with a sea monster bite on his neck and an angry itchy red rash on his dick to match. She was caring for him, just like she always did. Even though neither one of them was exactly comfortable about the prospect.

But now, considering what that moment of vulnerability had led to, he was glad it happened. And hardly surprised.

And when his big head has been muddled and confused on a night a few weeks before? His dick had shown the way forward. When a different woman had laid her hands on him, slipped her tongue into his mouth.

He didn’t want her. He felt like a block of wood as she kissed him and touched him. And yet he let it happen. His mind filled with a fuzzy gray static as she whispered to him how she needed him, how she’d never stopped loving him, until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. She opened his pants and he let her, hungry for something she was offering. He would think a lot about that later.

But then his dick was in her mouth. And she worked it, employed all her little tricks. And still it stayed soft.

Until, giving up, she stood. She crossed the room and poured herself a scotch. He tucked his junk in his pants and zipped up. Not even embarrassed.

“You love her,” Diana said, her back to him.

He nodded. “I do.”

“But Fox,” she said, closing the distance between them, sitting down next to him, “She doesn’t know you like I do. There’s so much I want to give you...”

She launched into the pitch he’d heard from her before. Since she returned, she’d been whispering to him whenever she could get him alone, offering him access. “There are so many things we can accomplish together, Fox. Why would you want to keep toiling in the dark when you can shape the future of the human race? You’ve more than earned your seat at the table. And your voice is needed there...”

Though he never really felt engaged in these conversations, his big head listened to what Diana had to say.

But the little one was more persuasive. Not to mention more persistent. The truth was, Scully had been the only one able to get him off for months. Though of course she hadn’t touched him.

His extensive collection of salacious videotapes these days stayed tucked in their hiding places, moldering in their cases. The magazines delivered to his door each month, Penthouse and Hustler and Escort and Razzle and Club, remained stacked on his entryway table, their spines uncracked, their pages unperused. Most with the black no-see-um wrapper still intact.

A fact Scully discovered while visiting his apartment a few weeks before. She turned up on the late side one evening, work on her mind, files in her hand, her body tucked dutifully away in some dark suit.

“Oh that,” he said when she placed her palm on the towering cache of smut, popped an eyebrow in his direction. She had spent enough time in his space to understand that this was a departure from his usual behavior, where his porn was concerned. Whereby he’d rip the covers off the mags as soon as they arrived and leaf through them, looking for anything particularly good. He’d turn down the corners of memorable pages then leave them piled haphazardly around his place: on end tables, under the fishtank, next to his bed.

The explanation was not something he was prepared to share. So he thought fast, and invented something on the fly that seemed remotely plausible. “Yeah, the boys tell me that those are going to be collector's items soon. Print is dead, Scully. Everyone making the switch from atoms to bits and bytes. Paper’s so pulpy and inefficient. I have a book on it somewhere...” He riffled through his bookshelf, glad to escape her excruciating gaze. He plucked out a book and handed her a copy of Being Digital by Nicholas Negroponte. “He’s a smart guy. You should check it out.”

His effort to distract her was in vain. She put the book aside without glancing at the cover and continued to silently cross-examine him. He pretended to be interested in another book he’d pulled at random, but the moment stretched on uncomfortably. "I thought I could get more for them if they remained in pristine condition,” he said as he paged through the book he wasn’t reading. For all he knew he was holding it upside down. “You know how people keep their Star Wars toys in the boxes with the cellophane on?”

She shrugged, unconvinced. But she moved on, willing to let it go. Her stacked heels clacked obnoxiously against his hardwood floors as she slowly made her way into his living room.

He doubted she wanted to know the real reason. Though he was pretty sure he could turn the tables on her if he blurted it out. It would serve her right for the way she roamed around his apartment and let her eyes light on his stuff, storing her little data points in that mind, trying to figure him out. But maybe one day the tea leaves of his pitiable life she seemed so eager to read would finally speak to her. Maybe it would occur to her what was actually going on.

Which was that every time he touched himself, he imagined it was her hand. And he would try to switch things over, open one of his skin mags— his trusty strategy for years when it came to getting his thoughts off his partner and back where they belonged —but it wasn’t working anymore.

He’d listlessly page through the glossies, looking for a promising spread, land on some blowjob scene and eyeball it for a while. But when he got down to business it, was her mouth on him, warm and receptive, her eyes on his face, his hands in her coppery hair. He’d smolder for a while, thinking of her lips, her strong small hands, and always her eyes, then feverishly work himself up. And the magazine, forgotten, would slip away onto the floor.

On the bright side, his inappropriate intrusive fixation on his FBI partner was saving him two hundred bucks a month he used to spend on phone sex. The last time he dialed in he couldn’t even get it up. So he spilled his guts to one of his regular providers, droning on for forty-five minutes about how he had it bad for his partner, all the things she did that made him crazy, the reasons he couldn’t tell her. Realizing even therapy would be cheaper, and feeling like a terrible cliché, he’d quit calling those numbers.

His videos were his last line of defense. Their absorbing input had always been able to capture his attention, so he’d try one of those. It might work for a few minutes, but the real action was behind his eyes. In his mind it was her heels digging in to the small of his back as he plunged into her tight little cunt. She’d be beneath him hot and panting, open her mouth to moan and he’d stuff his fingers in, slide them wetly against her tongue. Soon he’d be picking up the pace... The television would blare fruitlessly in the background, rife with bad dialogue and silicone silo tits and oh babys. The money shot would come and go, unseen by him, and the screen would fade to black.

The reason porn had quit working was simple: in his fantasies, she always comes too. Usually more than once. He’d start slow, imagine he was taking his time kissing his way down her body. That could take a while. Then he’d tease her, rubbing the fat head of his cock up and down her slit. When she begged him to, he’d slip inside her and slam his hips forward. He’d hold there, bottomed out, and kiss her sweet mouth. Then he’d slide it in and out, looking into her eyes, feeling every inch of her.

Soon he’d need to fuck her harder, faster. He’d reach down to tease her clit until she was thrashing and pleading. Then she’d say his name, and her face would change, and she’d come on his dick. He’d watch her ride it out, humming with pleasure as her warm wet circles broke against him and travelled up his body in waves. Till his nuts and his gut and his heart and his throat and his brain were replete with her. Finally he’d come, imagining he was cradled by her hips and rocking, buried deep inside her, spilling his secrets into her ear.

In his dirty busy mind he’d already had her so many places and ways: in showers and motel beds, in cars and elevators, bent over his desk at work, the door unlocked, her skirt bunched around her waist, her drugstore pantyhose dangling from her ankle. Quick or slow or sweet or mean, acrobatic or missionary, rough or tender. Or both. God. Even boring. Just the two of them in his bed, nose to nose under the covers, whispering and giggling and whiling away a Sunday morning.

And the most pathetic and woebegone detail? Sometimes his fantasies contained no sex at all. He wanted to watch a movie with her feet parked in his lap. He wanted to shop for groceries with her and hold her hand on the walk home. To spend a weekend with her on the Vinyard and show her his old high school. He wanted to rub her back when she was sad and play footsie with her under the table during boring budget meetings. He wanted to gather her close and kiss her eyelids and hold her in his arms as she fell asleep. To watch her to rise naked from his bed and pull on his clothes she’d just stripped from his body. On red eye flights he wanted to leave the arm rest up and snuggle with her under those dingy felt blankets. To read to her while she soaked in the tub and find the nooks and hollows of her body where she was ticklish. He wanted to make her giggle, make her laugh, make her cry happy tears. He wanted to make her wet just with his voice. To lay in bed and watch while she got dressed for church. He wanted to kiss her in front of her idiot brother, maybe even slip her a tasteful amount of tongue. To shower with her before work, to soap her up and shampoo her hair. He wanted to stock his fridge with an assortment of her gross non-dairy yogurts.

Scully. Before she’d even descended into his office and introduced herself, he assumed she was a plant. Or a dupe, a patsy. Why else would a promising and talented young agent be conscripted to his lonely, disrespected division? Most likely she’d already agreed to keep tabs on him, to cast his work in a negative light. And even if she hadn’t, he was certain she’d be manipulated, using the lever of her obvious ambition, into doing so. He also suspected, since she’d spent most of her time thus far in the FBI in the lab or the classroom, that she was a house cat. The kind of agent who might hold romantic notions about working in the field, but who would soon balk at the grueling, unpredictable hours, the endless travel, the physical grind. And blanch at the dangers. It’s no kind of life for anybody who wants a life.

By the time their flight touched down in Oregon on that first case, he knew for sure that she was fun to spar with. And all kinds of smart. And even sort of cute. And while it can obviously be helpful to have a partner if things go sideways, he remembers hoping that didn’t happen to them before she washed out and retreated back to the lab. Because he suspected this itty bitty pathologist with zero field experience and impractical footwear? Would be more likely to become a liability than properly cover his flank.

After they’d worked a half dozen cases together, it was fair to say he’d reconsidered the hasty assumptions he’d made about Scully. Which is to say she surprised him at every turn. Except on the couple of occasions when she’d astonished him, leaving him flat-footed and slack-jawed in her wake. Against all odds, he had himself a partner. Which is not to say he fully trusted her. Not yet. And he doubted she’d hang around much longer.

But still. He’d learned that she was game. Skeptical and rational, but up for anything. She never complained about bad food or lumpy beds. And courageous, staring down firearms pushed in her face without blinking. She was fearless and cagy, and could take a punch or dish one out. And in the next moment she could soften, to connect with a suspect or a victim, to care for a child, or for him. She believed deeply in what she was doing. When he bumbled into trouble, which he seemed to have a knack for, she more than had his back. Yet when she’d sided with him and blew off her buddies from the Academy? It wasn’t loyalty to him she was demonstrating, but to the victims. To the truth. Above all, Scully was honest.

In some ways, he knew her so well. Yet all these years later there was there were aspects to her he could only guess at. Scully, he’d come to understand, was a deeply private person. Didn’t give pieces of herself away in idle conversation, like most people do. The fact that he was a trained and skilled profiler didn’t seem to help. In his fevered mind he’d become preoccupied with the things he didn’t know about her. Like how, exactly, does she like to be touched? He thought about that a lot. Is she a morning sex person? (God he hoped so.) Is she loud in bed? Or more quiet and intense? A little repressed, or wild and uninhibited? He could imagine it either way. Is she bossy? Submissive? A little of both? What does she taste like? Does she talk dirty? Will she like it when he does? (Because he definitely does.) How would he tease her? What are her kinks? Does she like it rough? And if he wanted to go down on her for hours, would she be okay with that?

So, yeah. He loved her.

That switch had been flicked for him on a steamy summer evening, a moment when he’d been staring down the real possibility of losing her. She walked away. He followed her, flew out his door like he’d been shot out of a cannon. Stormed up to her where she’d turned to face him in his hallway. Fists clenched, voice raised, he was in full on fighting mode. But he wasn’t fighting her. He was fighting to keep her. So instead of telling her off, as his body language suggested he might, he told her what she meant to him. How he needed her. Things he hadn’t even realized before they came out of his mouth. But all of it the truth.

She’d been girded and resolute, her body rigid and self-contained. But then she broke, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she softened and stepped into his embrace. He looked in her impossibly blue eyes glinting with tears and realized with dreadful certainty that, Christ, he was going to kiss his partner. More than that, if she let him, he was going to pick her up and carry her back through the door of his apartment and lay her down and fuck her.

That plan had been derailed, but the urge for him remained. And not long after, he gathered his courage and, with all the earnestness he could muster, he’d looked her in the eyes and confessed.

So he’d told her that he loved her. But had he shown her?

That was a thorny question, and it made him uncomfortable to consider it. Because he had to admit that for the most part, he hadn’t.

It was strange, but once his feelings for Scully had shifted, his behavior toward her had become less loving. For one thing, he didn’t let her in on that fact that she’d become the only featured player in his secret late-nite fantasy theatre. But more than that, he found himself especially irritable with her. Dismissive. Self-centered. Sometimes even cold.

When he was looking for an excuse to be angry with her, he told himself a story that she’d rejected him. Because, oh brother. But he’d seen her eyes go wide for an instant, felt her animal panic. She’d pored over his hospital chart and had to know he wasn’t high. So he’d concluded that she didn’t want him. Didn’t love him.

And Fowley’d chosen that inopportune moment to skip back over the pond and make a play for his ass. And though he had no interest in rekindling that relationship, just having her around reminded him of all the reasons it just might be a bad idea to get tangled up sexually with your partner.

More than that, even though he knew that Scully felt insecure because of Diana for several legitimate reasons, he hadn’t bothered to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about. When Diana called him and invited him downstairs for lunch, he’d go. Mostly to be near his files, and to mine the trashcans for cases when her back was turned. But he’d steal away from the bullpen, not tell Scully where he was off to, or why. He let her twist in the wind, wondering who Diana was to him and what her reappearance meant for their partnership.

It would make sense that once you’ve discovered the person you love, the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your days (not even to mention nights), the person who is, quite possibly, it for you? That you would try to make that happen. To lock that down. And yet he seemed to be doing everything but.

Even after she’d been shot by Ritter, and he’d almost lost her again.

And why was that? How to explain this puzzling behavior.

Maybe she didn’t want him, and he was just protecting himself.

The thing was, when he was being honest, he knew that wasn’t true. When he’d been about to kiss her in his hallway, she’d looked confused at first. And then concerned, with real fear flashing in her eyes. But by the time his lips were hovering over hers? They were on the same page. She’d gone molten in his arms, and her mouth awaited his, wet and ready. His body remembered how she’d opened to him, with her sweet breath and her fingers on his neck. He knew in his bones how that encounter would have ended, if not for that stupid fucking bee. Recalled it every chance he got.

As a psychologist, looking at the situation objectively? He’d have to conclude that he was engaging in some epic self-sabotage. Yup.

That night in her apartment when Diana had made her intentions clear, he’d agreed like some kind of docile sheep to join her. To scrum up with the other chosen few at El Rico Air Force Base as Armageddon loomed and save himself at the expense of the rest of humanity. And Scully, even though he wasn’t by her side where he belonged, was still fighting. For him, For them. For the truth. For the future.

And to repay her for her steadfast faith in him and devotion to their work? He was flirting with the one thing that could tear them apart. With inflicting a betrayal that could send her packing for good.

They’d dodged a bullet that night. More than that, they’d gotten their files back, and were free to resume their work. And by any measure he should have felt relieved. But he woke the next morning with a hangover worse than any he’d ever gotten from liquor. He looked in the mirror to shave and realized he couldn’t even meet his own gaze. He was ashamed. And he had to admit that he’d been seduced by Diana after all. Not into bed, but into complacency.

Needing some time and space to think things through, he called Skinner and redeemed a few vacation days. He threw some clothes in a bag and set out driving, not sure of his destination.

On the road, heading north, armed with this new clarity, he mulled things over. How was he going to feel, he wondered, when he succeeded and chased her away? That seemed to be his end game, after all. He knew what he’d do. He’d track her down to wherever she’d absconded to and interrupt her as she attempted to reboot her life. Then, looking desperate and half mad, he’d profess his love.

But it would be too late. She would conclude, quite logically, that he only wanted her when she was leaving. And even if she loved him like he hoped she might, she would not settle for that. Not Scully. And it would be selfish of him to ask her to.

It hit him then, with complete and utter clarity, that he had no idea how to love someone. He’d had bad models and a dearth of life experience in that arena. He knew how he felt. But love is a verb. It’s about what you do. She had taught him that.

He was good with the grand gestures, sure. Tracking her down at the bottom of the world and fishing her out of an enormous alien vessel, for example. Then breathing life back into her and hauling her to the surface while sidestepping rabid lizard monsters who swiped at them with razor-edged claws? Check.

But she needed more. For him to find mundane ways to express his care and concern, perhaps. To show her how much she mattered to him. How much he valued her and all the ways she contributed to their work. To his life. She needed to see that he put her first. She deserved these things. She had earned them. And he knew wouldn’t let him glimpse her secret self, let him know her like he desperately wanted to, until he gave them to her.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. But he knew he had to try.

He decided to start right away. He’d been thinking of her all morning, of course. About celebrating their return by pressing her her against a wall in their office and pushing into her, fucking her breathless and senseless before lunch, to be exact. But he hadn’t thought of her at all, he realized. Not really.

Scully. She’d be there right now, in the basement waiting for him, their first day back where they belonged. Wondering where he could be with half the morning gone. Bewildered as to what might be keeping him from reclaiming his precious turf. Maybe she already talked to Skinner and knew he was taking a few days off. Maybe she’d be worried. Or pissed. Or worse, wondering if he was enjoying a morning lounging in bed with a treacherous leggy brunette.

At the next rest stop, he pulled off and powered up his cell phone. He was relieved to see that he'd missed a call from her. She hadn’t given up on him yet.

Rather than listen to her message, he dialed her back. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey Mulder,” she said.

“Hey Scully,” he said. “Are you in the office?”

“I am,” she said. “Where I thought for sure you would be. Skinner told me you were on vacation. What’s going on?” Her voice was brittle. Defensive.

“I will be, Scully. I’ll meet you there. And soon. But I need to take care of a few things first.”

“Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “What kinds of things?”

“I, ah, I need to get my head straight before coming back. I’ve been mixed up. About some stuff.”

“I see,” she said.

They were both quiet for long seconds.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Me?” The question surprised her. “I’m good. Enjoying the quiet. Working on expense reports. Glad to be out of the bullpen.”

“You sure? You were popular, Scully. I think Agent Kargoll was working up the nerve to ask you out.” Mulder would glare at him as he brought her a donut on a little plate in the mornings. He’d leave it on the corner of the desk if she wasn’t in yet, like an offering to the high priestess.

“Yep,” she said. “I noticed that too. Reassigned in the nick of time...”

“I did my best to scare him off...”

“He was persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“He seemed like a nice enough guy. You could do worse than landing a boyfriend who arrives bearing gifts every morning...”

“I could do better, too.”

“No doubt,” he said. “What would be better than that?”

“Hmm. Why do you ask?”

“Research,” he said.

“Research,” she repeated. “Okay. Let’s see. The bearing gifts is ok. But maybe someone with some sense of what I actually like?”

“Let me jot that down,” he said. She snorted a little laugh. Which warmed him all the way through. “It’s true, Scully, you’re not a big fan of donuts. I benefitted from his crush on you more than you did.”

“I tried to wait until he had his back turned before handing those off to you...”

“You’re very kind,” he said.

Just then a truck blew by on the highway, laying on the booming brake, rocking his car.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I, ah, hit the road this morning. Just to think. Just to drive. But I suppose I’m heading home. To see my mother for a few days.”

“Everything okay?” she asked. He heard the concern in her voice, the fear that she’d be needing to tend to him trepanned and shocky, bail him out of jail. The usual.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or it will be. I really think it will be.”

“Allright Mulder,” she said after a long beat. “I’ll be holding down the fort. Drive safe. And keep in touch.”

“I will. And save me some of that paperwork, Scully.”

She laughed and hung up.

He had, in fact, visited his mother. She was glad to see him, and he stayed a few days, helped her out with some chores around the house. Got on a ladder and plucked the muck and leaves from the gutters, shifted some dusty furniture from the basement to the curb.

And he absorbed the silences of that house, his mother’s sadness, the way every possession, every exchange seemed steeped in a deep, abiding misery.

He remembered his mother different. Laughing, for example. Playing bridge with her friends, toying with her strand of pearls as she leaned in to gossip. Teasing him with a glint of joy in her eyes. Before Samantha had been taken.

It had broken her. Broken all of them. Now she ghosted around her own home, tending to her roses, watching television. Always alone. He lived much the same way. This was all that was left.

All because his father had been unable to protect them from the men he worked with, no matter how noble his intentions. The same men he had been tempted by Fowley to join up with, if he was telling the truth. Now they were reduced to ash. He had no idea what remained, but he knew he and Scully would find out.

By the time he climbed in his car to come home, he was committed to not making his father’s mistake. And to living differently. Less stubbornly solitary. To inviting some goodness into his life, no matter how strange it felt.

And last night, when it was actually happening, when he was wrapped up in bed with Scully in real life, it had been so vivid, so peculiar. As he rolled his naked frame against hers, time slowed down. In his head he heard the seconds ticking away distorted by doppler effect, whomp whomp. Felt his stiff prick slide against her buttery thigh, painfully slow. Pressed his ear to her chest. Imagined the steady squeeze and release of her heart beneath her breastbone. Heard the whoosh of her blood through her veins.

Looked up at her flushed face, this beautiful untamable breakable beast.

And he loved her.

He’d told her so.

Now he needed to show her.

Thanks for reading. Check it out at Ao3 This fic stands alone, but is also chapter 10 of Bedside Manner

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Señorita

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: S.M.U.T., language.

Synopsis: You finally get out of the city to spend a week in a beachside paradise - you’re entitled to a little getaway, you think, with your birthday coming up. When a handsome stranger hits on you at the bar, along with your birthday, some other things might come as well.   A/N: This was random? Came out of nowhere. Enjoy & let me know what you think x

Gif not mine

Timid waves crushed softly against the shoreline, white sand turning concrete gray at their touch. The warm breeze carried around a song you thought you recognised, but couldn’t remember from where. The beach-side bar basked in a gentle blush glow, so typical for the evenings here at Mallorca… You’d only arrived a couple of days ago, but already you couldn’t picture yourself anywhere else - just sitting here, at the bar by the turquoise sea, sipping on your Pina Colada in the shadow of the palm-branched roof. The wind brushed through your salt-stained hair from the entire day spent rolling around on the beach; mindful sun caressing your thighs, peaking from behind the slit in your deep emerald dress.

Tonight was relatively calm, you thought, twirling the straw in your cocktail absentmindedly. Ever since the English rugby team packed up their balls and other attributes and set out to sea, the place became peaceful.

You were glad. The entire point of this trip was to get out of the busy city for a while, enjoy the calm. If you wanted a testosterone-filled party for your birthday, you would have stayed in New York - Karen would throw a rave that would make Coachella look like a kindergarten gathering.

But that is exactly what drove you out of America and into this seaside paradise. If there was one thing you had trouble doing, it was working a crowd of people you barely saw in your everyday life, who only came for booze and dancing. Karen said she understood, and that the party would have been a small yet tasteful affair… you still fled.

Here’s to hoping that Karen wasn’t pissed at you for bailing, you silently prayed, throwing the straw on the bar and taking a gulp directly from the glass. Judging from the text Karen sent you earlier today, saying something about getting together for a celebratory meal when you got back to the city, you figured she wasn’t mad. She did say something about introducing her to a friend of Frank’s again, and having thrown the Karen plan for the party out of the window, you had to budge.

It’d been so long it had become a running joke between you two - Karen wanting to introduce you to that “handsome hunk”, with whom Frank had served. She was especially lyrical about his manners, his big heart and his beautiful smile.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Karen was head over heels for the guy.

Every time Karen made plans for a Sunday brunch or Saturday night drinks at Castle’s place with the sole purpose of introducing you to the Hunk, you always found an excuse to ditch. Sometimes it was an urgency at work, sometimes it was about something funny you ate the night before… You must have been dodging these “introductory date” attempts for at least five months now - and it all looked like after this get-away vacation, you’d have to face the music.

Well, it was worth it. A week of doing nothing, reading sappy novels and drinking high-end cocktails, that was what you craved for, and if you had to pretend to be interested in some nonsense a guy was trying to charm you with for a couple of hours, it was a small price to pay. With that thought, you finished off your Pina Colada and motioned for the sunburnt brown bartender to get you another one.

“Hola señorita.”

The voice was unexpected. Low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint of power.

“Disculpe, ¿este asiento está ocupado?”

Slightly frowning, you turned your head to the right.  

Ever since the English rugby team settled in one of the villas, the women in the hotel found themselves outnumbered. It just so happened - what a coincidence - that you turned out to be their neighbour, your villa closest to theirs. Everytime you’d walk out of your temporary home to hit the bar or the beach, you’d spot at least three young men hanging outside of their quarters, their faces illuminating the minute they saw you. You’d give them a cursory smile back - you weren’t that cruel - but everytime one of them tried to approach you, you shot him down - often with a look, rarely with a verbal warning. Ever since they left, you was relishing the feeling of tranquillity - until he decided to burst your happy little bubble.

The first thing you noticed about him is that he wasn’t Spanish, despite the lack of accent. He had beautiful dark, almost black eyes, the colour of a freshly brewed espresso, that myriad of black and chocolate tones swirling in a whirlpool of tender curiosity. They held your depreciating stare well. The sun obviously loved him - those razor-sharp cheekbones glowed bronze as he tilted his head to the side a little bit. The wind caressed his dark hair, playing with the longer strands at the top.

Something about him was so familiar. Maybe you’d seen him on the beach before? You did stay at the same hotel after all…

Not in a slightest bit confused at your lack of answer, the man smiled.

His smile held a sort of a gentle surprise in it, like a summer day in a middle of October.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Je suis désolée,” you finally uttered, forcing your eyes to focus on his eyes again instead of his lips. “Je ne parle pas espagnol”.

His smile grew wider, much to your surprise. Instead of getting red in the face, stammering out some random apology as you expected him to, he nodded and motioned to the chair next to you with one hand, sliding the other one across the surface of the bar.

Despite your better judgement and against your utter dislike of aimless flirting, you found herself shrugging as you accepted her second drink from the bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please.”

Ah-ha. He’s from New York.

You sipped on your cocktail directly from the glass, ignoring the brand-new straw the bartender supplied you with in order to hide your smirk. As the man held two aristocratic, impossibly long fingers in the air, making his order, you took the time to study him.

He was tall, much taller than you. The plain white t-shirt that he wore betrayed the solid stomach muscles hidden under the cotton - the short sleeves strained as he gripped the back of the chair and slowly lowered himself onto it.

“Thank you,” he finally said to the bartender with a nod, gripping his glass with those downright pornographic fingers. Slightly pursuing his lips, the man turned his full attention back to you. When you arched an eyebrow at his antics, he flashed you a mischievous yet understanding look. “Ça tombe bien. Je me sens plus à l’aise en parlant français”.

That cheeky bastard.

Your first reaction was that of a sincere surprise. You were pretty sure that for a second there, your eyebrows almost reached your hairline. Upon catching the satisfied glint in these already all too familiar eyes, you wanted to feel irritated at the nerve of him, at the fact that he just happened to beat you at your own game. But you didn’t.

Biting hard on your bottom lip in order not to laugh, you took your glass and sipped, hard.

“While I’d love to know how many more languages the lady speaks, I would much rather learn her name”, he dropped nonchalantly, whirling his whiskey gently, the ice cubes cluttering against the glass.

The first comeback that crossed your mind was so filthy you couldn’t possibly go with it. The second one, however, was efficient and succinct.

“Diana, here’s a lady’s name.”

With a low chuckle, he let his head drop down for a moment. When he raised his eyes to face you again, your chest felt a little too tight and a little too fragile under his poignant stare - that of amusement, want and a clean cut awe.

His eyes had told you that this was more than a drifting attraction, that he was interested in so much more than your name…

You saw it, and for some nonsensical reason, chose to believe it.

“I don’t care about names,” there was such a determination to your voice that it surprised you. It didn’t startle him, though - he caught your every word as his eyes travelled from your fluttering eyelashes to the soft curve of your lips. “When there are so many more interesting things to talk about. Don’t you agree?”

As you turned away from him and took another sip of your drink, you heard him chuckle yet again, and saw him press a hesitant finger against his lips.

This was obviously new to him. This small treacherous gesture led you to believe that maybe he wasn’t one to pick women at bars, that, just like you, he felt that thrill of surrendering to the strange sort of attraction encircling you both.

“In fact, enough talking. Let’s focus on doing.”

What was it so special about him that made you decide? It’s not like there’s been no men before him, very much willing to break through your iron-clad facade, wanting you to take a leap of faith. Some of them had the potential to make you feel good, you were aware of that. Still, you didn’t want them.

What made him so different? A certain familiarity of his voice, his features, maybe? Or maybe you should just slow down, cut down on the alcohol, drink a glass of water and go back to your villa, alone.

The way his eyes skimmed your naked shoulders, a barely there sigh leaving his half-open lips sealed the deal.

You didn’t want to slow down.

Not with him.

“Here’s to doing then”, his Adam apple bobbed as he gulped down, his eyes darkening. He raised his glass towards you - a figurative shake of hands on the deal they just made.

“Here’s to doing”, you agreed, clinking your glass to his.

His villa was located at the outskirts of the hotel beach, backed by the rocks. It was a ten-minute walk from the bar, feet in the warm sand, the star-sprangled night sky over your heads.

Despite the silence surrounding you, save for the occasional gust of breeze carrying on the sound of music from the bar you just left, you didn’t feel awkward. A soft smile ghosted over your lips as you felt his careful touch at the small of your back - those fingers sliding down to the base of your spine, feather-like. He strode forward, adapting his pace so you could keep up - you weren’t even sure he was aware of that, the change in him so spontaneous, as if it were a force of habit. Like this wasn’t the first time you walked side by side.

You would blame it on the booze, but you drank a total of two cocktails.

He only had one whiskey before they took off.

The villa he chose to stay in was slightly more spacious than yours, and provided a lot more privacy - this told you a lot about the man you were about to sleep with. He was most certainly well off, for starters. He also came here to get his share of peace and quiet, much like yourself.

Guiding you through the doors, he turned the lights on behind you, his other hand never leaving your back.

The best way to describe the interior would be neat or crisp, with a large, perfectly made bed in the center of the space, surrounded by a bar, a hanging chair, a shuttered armoire, and a desk, that could be used both as a kitchen table and a bureau. It smelled faintly of vanilla and musk, with a sea-salt aftertaste.

“Make yourself at home”, he murmured into your ear, still standing behind you, his hand gripping your hip hard for a fleeting second. When the realization of his touch had settled in, and you were finally able to react, he was already at the bar, serving himself a whiskey.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He busied himself with the bottle for a moment; then he produced another glass from behind the bar, waiting on your answer. When you didn’t speak, he turned to face you again.

You did as you were told - kicking off your shoes, you stepped onto the soft wool rug. With your back to him, you slowly made your way to his bed. One you reached it, you couldn’t resist trailing your fingertips along its surface - the sheets were creamy and silk, smooth to the touch.

You stopped short of the head of the bed, throwing a look over your shoulder. He caught your gaze, frozen in place, wetting his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.  

“Why don’t you choose for me?” you offered, slowly lowering yourself on the bed, crossing your legs. “What do you usually serve them?”

The way his eyes narrowed at you ever so slightly almost made you smile. It looked like you’d struck a nerve.

Good.

“I wouldn’t know how to answer that question”, he said, his voice levelled, his stare unblinking. “I’ve never had an urge like that before”.

Well, fuck.

How many more times this man was going to run counter to your expectations?

And on top of everything, damn, he was good. A quick-thinker or a natural good-talker? Would you remain clear-headed for long enough to find out?

“What else would you like to know?” his voice grew huskier as he pushed the glass away from himself. He left it at the bar as he started your way, his pupils blown to hell.

“That all I’ve been thinking about ever since I saw you at the bar is how soft your breasts would feel pressed against my chest? That I’ve been hard ever since you opened that sassy mouth of yours? Or that I would have jerked off to the memory of you for weeks if you hadn’t come here with me?”

God.

The tightness that had long since made home in your chest moved lower, lower, lower, until it sank into the pit of your stomach. At his words, involuntary, your thighs clenched together, restless energy buzzing in between your legs, your toes curling.

“Stand up”.

When your eyes focused back on your surroundings, you saw him standing a couple of steps away, his strong jaw clenching as he gazed at you, his arms folded on his chest. Breath catching in your throat, you pushed off the bed. Feeling dizzy all of the sudden, you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me, beautiful.”

Again, you did as you were told - you met his gaze head-on, and almost instantly regretted it. He was staring down at you with those black bottomless eyes, raw emotion flowing through him, filling the air around them, charging it to the brim. His hands fell down his sides now - so tense, the veins budged on his forearms.

It’s like he was pacing himself, keeping himself from touching you.

“Take off your dress,” he requested after a moment, watching you like a hawk.

Slowly, squeezing your thighs harder, harder still, you brought your hands to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, before pushing them off completely.

The dress landed in a heap on the floor, leaving you in nothing but lacy panties - almost utterly naked under his stare.

You heard the softest groan escape his mouth as his hand snaked across his thighs and up to that bulge in his pants. When he squeezed his hand around it, his abdominal muscles flexing as he exhaled, you felt the moisture spread down your inner thighs.

With your heart pounding in your throat, you made a step towards him with your hand stretched out. Almost immediately you heard a low strangled noise, and saw the nah shining bright in his dark eyes.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he growled, taking his t-shirt off in one elegant motion. He then undid the belt on his pants, his eyes savouring every inch of your naked skin. “Play with your tits for me. With both hands.”

Your own touch burned as you carefully squeezed your nipples with your fingers. Throwing your head back, you moaned loud, unwillingly pushing your hips forward.

“That’s it, beautiful, just like that.”

His words seemed to lift some sort of barrier, as you started to tug and pull harder at the nipples, alternating the movements with firm grasps around the swell of your breasts.

You were going to come.

You were going to come and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Now slide one of those hands down those panties. Rub that pretty pussy. Tell me how wet you are”.

You made peace with the fact that he was a talker - but now he had surely sat out to break her. His voice washed all over your body, sending goosebumps down your spine as you slid one of your hands under the underwear.

“I’m so fucking wet”, you gasped, staring at him. “Fucking dripping”.

His moan made your thighs tremble, your fingers slowly circling around your clit. Before you let your eyes roll to the back of your head, you saw him with one of his hands hidden in his pants, slowly jerking himself off, with slow, aborted motions.

“That’s it, caress that pussy for me. But go slow - tease it”.

You nearly growled at that. You knew you were close - there was a bundle of sensation, like a ball of electricity, building inside of you - two quick flicks of your index finger, and you’d be done for.  

“Jesus, please”, you stuttered out before you could realize you were actually begging. “I’m so fucking close, please…”

You rubbed slowly over the nerves, your fingers wet and slippery. Panting, you realized his name would have come in handy just now - if he had some sort of a praise kink, you could maybe easily get the release you yearned for.

“You are so beautiful, fucking yourself like that. Wish those were my hands. Or my mouth”.

Something flared at the very end of your clit, softly spreading all over her pussy. You moaned loud and unapologetic, your fingers moving faster as you tried to chase that sensation. You needed to grasp it, to ride it out, you fucking needed it!…

“Put a finger inside, beautiful”.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Pumping fast and hard, you could feel your knees bending, your flesh begging for release.

“Come for me. Now.”

As if by command, the orgasm finally hit you - everywhere at once. It made your entire body shake as you screamed out, pussy clenching around your fingers. You barely registered you were falling down on your knees, when strong hands caught you at your hipbones, pushing you upright.

He was on you before you could come down from your high. His mouth hot and bruising against yours, you moaned, instinctively jumping onto him and wrapping your legs around his feverish body.

His scent assaulted you - a clean, musky scent made your inside muscles clench, so you wiggled against him, wanting more.

He was so painfully hard against your core, you whimpered, pushing your hips against his, needing more friction, like an addict craving for a dose.

Sensing your need, feeling you, he grabbed your ass with his large hands and stepped onto the bed, setting you down on that same wooden headboard of the bed you’d almost stroke with your fingers.

Pushing your legs apart, he settled in between them. Before you knew it, his tongue lapped at your wetness, sliding up the length of your slit. Whimpering and moaning, you arched your back, burying your fingers in his hair, tugging hard. That made him growl, adding a slight vibration as he sucked on the bundle of nerves. He slammed his fingers - those fucking fingers - into you, and it took exactly two pumps for your second orgasm to roll over you. With your eyes squeezed shut, you moaned into the ceiling with everything you had.

Helping you slide down onto the bed with his hands guiding your hips, he gave you a piercing stare. The one that made you whimper, even though your eye-side was still fuzzy at the edges.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before he distanced himself from you - to take off his pants.

“I’m going to fuck you now - I’ll be gentle next time, right now… Right now I just need to bury myself in that pretty pussy of yours”.

“Fuck”, you moaned, propping yourself on the elbows, closing your eyes as you threw your head back. You didn’t know if you could handle more, but Jesus, did you want it. His cock stretching you wide.

You would not have been able to tell where he took a condom from - you didn’t even have time to contemplate on it. All you registered was a slight discomfort in between your legs before his huge cock pushed inside of you, inch by glorious inch. The stretch was almost too much, and you coughed out half a breath, half a moan as you tried to adjust to his size. Whatever sound you were about to let out next, as he slid out of you and pushed back in, to the hilt this time, it got lost in between your lips, as he captured your mouth in a bruising kiss.

Your nails scratched on his ripped back as he fucked into you shallowly, your teeth biting into the skin on his neck. As if not getting enough of you, he grabbed one of your thighs, flexing it, so he could thrust deeper.

The change of the angle had you swearing under your breath, and his mouth was there to silence you again, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

The third orgasm snuck up on you out of nowhere - there was no gradual built, no buzzing feeling in your lower stomach - it crashed on you like a bucket full of ice, having you arching your back, clenching around his cock so fiercely, it snatched an orgasm out of him, as well.

“Fuuuuuck”, he breathed out, his hips slamming sloppily into yours. “So fucking good, fucking…”

Before he could continue, you rolled forward and put your mouth on him, swallowing his words. With his palm cupping your cheek, he deepened the kiss as his cock drained itself into the latex.

The kiss grew soft, your noses touching ever so slightly as you both slowed down, a mess of tangled limbs. Smearing his wet mouth against your nipples, he pushed up from you, sliding his cock out.

“I’d take that drink now if you don’t mind”, you told him, a lazy smile illuminating your features.

A low chuckle he let out echoed in your lower stomach.

“Sure, beautiful. How does a whiskey sound?” he offered, standing up in all his naked glory.

You hummed in approval as you leaned higher against the headboard. Biting your lip, you checked out his ass unashamedly, as he made his way to the bar, throwing the used condom into the garbage bin.

“I know there are some things that we’ve agreed on, but I’d much appreciate calling you by your name instead of beautiful when going down on you next time. What do you say?”

You heard whiskey splash against the walls of your soon-to-be glass. Your inner muscles clenched at the sight of him, naked, serving you a drink.

“It’s Y/N”, you said with a small smile.

“Billy”, he responded, making his way to you. As you reached out to take your glass of whiskey from him, he pulled his hands backwards, using your position to land his lips on yours in a stinging kiss instead. You responded hungrily, grabbing his head with both of your hands.

The night was still young, after all.

“Okay, so would you rather spent your life partying with rich assholes you barely know, still seeing your family and friends, or get stuck on a desert island with no opportunity to see anyone at all?”

You turned your head ever so slightly, feeling his muscles clench as Billy huffed out a breath.

You both laid naked on his bed, him propped against the headboard, you - with your head settled comfortably on his stomach. A half empty bottle of whiskey was getting warm against your bare thigh, both of your glasses laying empty next to it.

You had lost count of the times you came with his name a word of ecstasy on your lips. You were surely going to sport some hickeys on your neck tomorrow, but you didn’t care.

You had never felt so at ease with a man before. Granted, no man had ever managed to make you come three times in a row, but that wasn’t the point. Billy made you question your “no dating” rule, and not just because he fucked like his life depended on it. He just got you - whether it was your discomfort in big crowds, fear of subway, weird addiction to macarons or love-hate relationship with Paris. You just clicked - it was hard to believe you met mere hours ago.

Or maybe the fact that you only just met was the reason why you clicked. It certainly wouldn’t be the same in the long run. The rose-goggles period only lasted so long. When routine kicked in, it tended to crash everything in its wake.

“That’s a tough one”, he said, biting on the inside of his cheeks. “If I could invite people on my desert island, I’d definitely go with the second option.”

“Well, you can’t”, you smirked at him, and then stared back into the ceiling. “It’s either being constantly surrounded, or seeing no one at all”.

He hummed, considering the options.

“I can’t imagine being alone 24/7, even though you might have guessed already, I love being alone sometimes”, his fingers slowly caressed the soft skin under your breasts, as he voiced his thoughts out loud. “It’s funny how your mind works though”, you could hear a smile in his tone now. “With you, it’s either all or nothing.”

You thought for a moment, interlacing your fingers with his. Then you shrugged:

“Sometimes, I just want to get away, you know? See no one, speak to no one… I sometimes push people away, thinking it would do me good. But it doesn’t always have that desirable effect.”

When you stole a glance at Billy again, you saw him nod.

“I know what you mean”, he spoke quietly. “And I’m glad you didn’t push me away tonight”.

“Oh, I tried,” you assured him with a smirk. “You’re hard to shake off”, you let go of his fingers and pushed yourself up on your hands, so that your eyes were on the same level.

Billy chuckled, his lips stretching in that warm and wonderful smile.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll be hard. Again. Point blank.”

You laughed quietly, dropping your gaze, your eyes traveling down his stomach and to that massive cock between his legs.

He was getting hard again alright.  

“What time is it?” you suddenly remembered, snapping your gaze around, searching for a clock.

“Quarter to four, why would you ask?” he told you, after checking his wristwatch.

You closed her eyes.

“It’s my birthday”, you said before you blinked at him in surprise.

In between all that dirty sex and orgasms, you lost track of time and completely forgot. Were you coming when the clock struck midnight? The thought made you giggle.

“Really?” Billy stared at you in disbelief before his dark cocoa eyes softened, and his voice dropped an octave. “Come here”.

Warmth spread all over your body at his words, your core the center of the growing tingling sensation. Billy used his hot hands to pull you closer, help you settle in his lap, your legs on each side of his hips. With his left hand he reached for the bedside table, pulling out yet another condom out.

“Would you like to put it on?” He whispered against the skin behind your ear, making your pussy tense. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, taking the foil packet from his hand. Tearing it up with your teeth, you slid the latex onto his throbbing cock, pumping him a couple of times for a good mesure. The noises Billy made were downright pornographic. You licked your lips.

With both of your hands on his naked shoulders, you slowly lowered yourself all the way down onto him, the sensation making you both moan this time.

“Just like that, beautiful”, he whispered softly in your ear, thrusting up into you.

You rode him slowly, arching your back, leveraging yourself on his shoulders. The position was so damn intense, and not only because that way Billy could thrust deeper, up to his balls. There was a strange sort of intimacy as he gripped your hips, helping you bounce slowly on his rock-hard cock - his cocoa eyes held a sort of intensity as he fucked into you. It made your heart ache.

“I fucking can’t get enough of you”, he confessed hoarsely. “Of that tight, wet, perfect pussy. Of your beautiful, smart mouth. All of you. Every fucking inch of you.”

His revelation combined with his soft, yet methodic thrusts was what toppled you over the edge. You came hard, your body protesting against all those orgasms Billy’s cock had already wrestled out of it. Speaking of him, he wasn’t too far behind either, gripping your hips and holding you down as he came.

His lips seemed to hold some kind of a promise as he kissed you gently.

“Happy Birthday, beautiful”, he whispered against your lips, his hot and ragged breath fanning over your skin.

You managed a tired smile, surging up to kiss him again, relishing the feeling of him inside of you still….

Surprisingly, New York welcomed you back with cloudless sky. It was still as busy as you remembered it, but something had changed. People seemed friendlier, streets - sunnier, summer - hotter. You caught yourself enjoying the city again now that you had come back well-rested from your week-long vacation.

Well-rested might have been a wrong word for it. More like satisfied. And taken care of.

After that night, you spent the two remaining days of her getaway at Billy’s villa - no strings attached. You two barely left the place. Never had you enjoyed a man’s company this much. You cooked together, swam together, made love together… Until it was over and done, and you had to go back to the real life again, tiptoeing on your way out so he wouldn’t wake up.

You stopped cold for a moment, a plat of appetisers freezing in your hands.

Did you just think made love? Well that was a slip of epic proportions…

“Daydreaming about your boy-toy again?” Karen teased her with a smirk, walking into the kitchen. “He must have been quite something”.

Oh that, he was. You couldn’t help but sigh as you put the plate on the table.

How many people Karen was expecting for the dinner exactly? It looked like Frank and her had cooked enough for the entire goddamn naval infantry.

“It’s been a week,” you said, shaking your head as if trying to make the thoughts about him fall out. “I guess I need some time to turn that page”.

“Who said that page needs turning?” Karen reasoned, putting two bottles of champagne on the table. “Didn’t you say he was from New York? You could keep on seeing each other?”

You didn’t even take a moment to think it over.

“Nah,” you shook your head, tugging at your silk top. “We didn’t talk much about our respective jobs, but he made it obvious he travels a lot, so…”

Catching Karen’s sceptic stare, you threw both of your hands into the air, waving them.

“I’ll see him when I’ll see him, and if I don’t…” you shrugged. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be then”.

You turned to face Karen again only to find out that her expression hadn’t changed.

“Uh huh,” the noise she made was her other way of saying bullshit. “Well, you do what you gotta do, but please play nice with Russo. I swear he is a perfect guy for you”.

You let out a chuckle.

“You know, I heard it so many times I’m actually starting to believe it”, you said.

As if on cue, you heard men’s voices in the corridor.

“So how was your getaway, then?” Frank asked casually, stepping first into the kitchen. “Wow, that looks amazing, ladies,” he commented on the table, winking at Karen.

Page blushed in response, making you roll your eyes.

You was about to make a side comment to your best friend, when your mind suddenly went blank upon hearing the stranger’s voice.

“It was great, perfect actually…”

A designer-shoes-clad foot appeared in the room.

“I just feel like I left a part of me there, I’m going to need some time to rea…”

…djust, your mind supplied as you stared at Billy, her Billy, standing across the room from you - fully dressed this time.

“Oh my God,” you barely whispered, your eyes big in your face, your chest feeling like it was going to collapse on itself.

Billy’s lips slowly parted in the widest smile you’d ever seen - he just stood there, like a man on whom the greatest happiness had been bestowed, and it rendered him speechless.

Karen looked at them both in confusion, until…

Until realisation dawned on her, and she chortled, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her mouth.

“What’s… What’s going on?” Frank frowned, looking back and forth between Billy and you. “You guys know each other?”

“Hell yeah,” Billy finally spoke, his eyes never quitting yours as he closed the distance between you in four decisive strides.

Before you could even speak, he gripped your cheeks and dropped his lips on yours, as hot and burning as the sun back in Mallorca.

You moaned like you didn’t have a care in the world, pushing onto your toes, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you, beautiful”, Billy uttered between the kisses, his forehead pressed to yours. “You ain’t getting away so easily this time”.

You let out a soft laugh, inhaling his scent, and moved to kiss his lips again. 

[liquid-luck-00]

Queen Marinette

Queen Marinette

Here is a ~2000 word song fic that I wrote in place of working on my ongoing fics hope you guys like it.

I saw a post a while ago where Damian would call Mari Queen/Your Majesty as she was a princess, but i cant find the post anymore but the idea stuck so here we are.

~~~~~~~~~~

The League of Assassins also known as the League of Shadows is one of the Earth's best kept secret society second to Themiscyra home of the Amazons and Atlantis of the Atlantans. However there is one that only a handful know and whispers of their existence are mythical in the cosmos. Only known to the head families, or rulers, of Themiscyra, Atlantis, and the League of Assassins.

That would be the Kingdom at Miraculi.

Marinette is anything but a normal girl. She is the crowned princess of Miraculi as well as being the reincarnation of the goddess Tikki. She is creation herself, but on top of that she was blessed by the other gods as well, meaning she is able to wield their gifts as well. She is Princess Marinette Dawntreader of Miraculi.

But right now she wants to be anywhere but the palace. At the age of eight she just met her betrothed and let's just say he did not make a good first impression.

In front of her stood Damian Al Ghul the heir of Demons and next head of the league of shadows. The league is the guard of Miraculi, ensuring that the existence of the Kingdom remains peaceful and in turn the Kingdom of Miraculi supplies the magic of the Lazarus Pit. The concealment of Themiscyra and Atlantans able to survive under water are other blessings provided by Miraculi. But back to the pain on hand, Damian Al Ghul.

"Tt. you really do look the part of a princess" she was in a long flowing dress with long sleeves as she had finished her classes for the day. "Fragile and helpless."

"Yes and you appear as a demon" she shot back. "self-absorbed and arrogant" she turned on her heel "keep up little Prince" she called over her shoulder.

They got to know each other better but he was always so cold and distant. But they grew to love each other. Damian left to be with his father when they were 10, but they still stayed in contact. Then when they were 13 she got news that broke her heart, Damian was dead.

She couldn't stay in the Kingdom without remembering him. She needed distance and new scenery wouldn’t hurt. So she brought it up to her parents, and they were reluctant, but Diana Princess of Themiscyra brought up the solution Marinette would be staying with Sabine Cheng, an Amazon who was granted leave of Themiscyra , and her husband Tom Dupain.

That was how she found herself in Paris as an 8th year introducing herself as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

That was how she also met Adrien Agreste. He was kind and sweet. He was new to school life just as she was new to life outside of Miraculi.

But not long afterwards did Lila Rossi enroll at Du Ponte.

With a quick search on google revealed most of her tales to be just that, fiction.

Adrien and Mari dated for two years before he ended the relationship. It was because she

wouldn't stop trying to reveal Lila's lies. That it was hurting his image that he was seen with her. That if only they knew the truth it would be enough. Well, fine, goodbye Adrien was her only thought. Her head held high.

Cross my heart and hope to die

I don't need another guy

To fight my battles, to overshadow me

Don't ya know I'm dangerous?

Fire burnin' in my blood

I got this handled, I don't need rescuin'

Unfortunately for him she didn't stop trying to get her class to see the truth.

A side effect of the liar's influence was that she was ostracized from the rest of the class.

But that wasn't a priority. Miraculi was going to become public. So she had a revealing ceremony to prepare for.

But before that she was asked to join as a joint member of the Teen Titians and Young Justice.

She was to meet with the two teams at Mt. Justice so she was looking for Kaldur, Aqualad, as she exited the building.

She was making her way towards him when she heard it.

"Princess" Adrien called and pulled her to look at him.

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want, I'ma show you

"Can I do something for you Agreste?" she asked as calmly as she could. "Because if not I am meeting a friend I haven't seen in ages."

"Just make up with Lila" he started "she isn't hurting anyone. And when you do everyone will be your friend again."

She smiled and noticed Kaldur closer than before. "Kaldur good to see you again how was your flight?" Adrien turned to see who she was talking to, and Kaldur after a second of shock responded.

"Uneventful, is everything set?" he asked giving her a way out.

"Yes" Mari answered "Sorry Adrien, another time"

"B- 02 Aqualad, B- 34 Omni"

She was in a black formfitting sleeveless top that rose to form a mask covering her face to her nose. Dark red combat boots that were tucked into black motorbike pants. A red belt with a forest green sash that faintly resembled a skirt just under it. Her gloves and arm guards were black and grey, and all over were golden accents. Her hair was cut short and was pitch black and her eyes were a golden color with flecks of green. (Outfit)

After quick introductions she noticed him, Robin of the Teen Titians, was standoffish but was familiar oh so familiar. Then she saw his hand twitch towards his sword and tapped the butt of the hilt twice before dropping his hand.

That was all the confirmation she needed. As everything fell into place.

That little jerk.

Batman asked for her to spar, to assess her combat skills. As she predicted Robin stepped in to be her partner.

She pulled two red batons from the small of her back and they began. Yes they were evenly matched but then she decided to mess with him. She turned back time to feign a right but ducked and swept his legs from under him. With him distracted she created a Mirage of herself and another to make herself invisible. She snuck up behind him used venom to freeze him and flip his cape over his head while her Mirage took his sword.

"Tt. unfreeze me" he practically growled she noticed almost everyone flinch and took a step back.

"You sure that's what you want, while I have your sword?" she taunted. She noticed a few shot her looks of sympathy. Odd. As Robin stayed quiet. "Fine" she dropped venom and he charged "Have it your way little Prince."

She jumped and he seemed to freeze mid charge but she didn't. She created a shell-ter around him.

Which he crashed into. He stood up and was gaping at her.

She dropped shell-ter and was making a few final decisions with Batman, while Robin still hadn't moved 30 minutes later and his mouth still agape. By this time Nightwing had come over.

"I think you broke little wing" he chuckled.

"You think so." she responded with a slight question. "Close your mouth your going to catch flies Al Ghul."

"Yes, Your Majesty" he finally snapped out of his stupor.

She saw Nightwing and Batman share a look and then look between the two of them.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

They explained the role of Miraculi in the world. How they had met and knew one another. Their engagement and finally the reopening of the Kingdom to the world. By now she dropped her transformation, meaning her eyes were back to bluebell and her hair was a midnight blue, and the bats had taken off their masks.

Then an idea hit.

"Your plotting something" Damian snapped her out of her planning.

"Plotting makes it seem malicious" she paused "I'm planning."

"I'll bite, what are you planning?" Nightwing, Dick as he introduced, asked.

"How would you like to come to my coronation and be some of the first outsiders in Miraculi?" she responded.

Eyes on me like I'm a prize

But you better recognize

I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want, I'ma show you

As she guessed the news of Miraculi opening up was all the news was covering. The hidden Kingdom known only by the Amazons and Atlantans, officially, was all everyone was talking about.

The fact that the opening was set for the coronation of the princess added to the suspense.

About a month before our teacher had news. "Due to a special invitation our class has been invited to attend the Princess’ coronation in Miraculi" that was when the class erupted.

In a week Lila convinced everyone she personally asked the Princess to invite the class as a favor to her. That she grew up in the castle with her and was made a lady in waiting. Two weeks until the coronation, she asked Damian to tweet that 'he can't wait to see his best friend again in Miraculi.’ Which caused a small discourse with a boy called Jon Kent of how he was Damian's best friend. Where he answered with 'female best friend. Better Kent' That Lila used to say it was her, and that he only used best friend instead of girlfriend.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

The week before they left to Miraculi, in order to show them around. Before landing Mari changed into an emerald green dress with a mandarin collar. A jacket and belt with a duster in a dark silver trimmed with gold and matching gloves. Her hair was in a side braid and a thin golden circlet on her brow. A few of her classmates glared at her but she didn't pay them any attention. (Outfit)

She was the last out of the airport and you could feel the tension in the air. Lila was spouting some nonsense to the guards that were sent to retrieve them. Then they noticed her, every guard formed a straight line to the captain as they dropped onto one knee and bowed their heads. As she passed them they stood up.

"Captain Chase it is good to see you again” she smiled as he also rose.

"The honor is mine Princess" he bowed again.

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want,

She turned back to face the class. "Welcome to Miraculi, I am Princess Marinette Dawntreader. I hope you enjoy your stay. The guards will escort you in these carriages to the castle for your stay." she mounted Yin (Silver), who Captain Chase brought for her. "I will ride ahead, as they are in capable hands." She smiled and rode off towards home.

The next week was amazing. Between tours of the Kingdom her classmates were part of an honorary court, to glimpse into the Royal life.

Damian almost cut off Lila's head the first time they met. Most of the class realized that if Lila lied about knowing Marinette, well the Princess but Lila hated Mari, and dating Damian, what else had she lied about. Turns out they can use google and Mari received several apologies and offers to be friends. She accepted the apologies but not their offers.

"Why?" was a consensus of the group.

"You realize that you were deceived, but that does not excuse your actions. As I am also assuming you wish to be friends because of my status." That seemed to force them to think, thank Kwami.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

But the best part of this week was after the apologies was hearing them all, Lila included, only address her with 'Your Majesty’.

[fan-written]

Quick question!! Does Alfred make the Batfam's uniforms? Because as a seamstress myself I know that would take quite some time out of The Butler's schedule.

But if he does then I have ideas for an AU. This is only my hc:

It's going to be called Agent A and the Ladybug.

Diana and Clark were visiting Bruce one day when Alfred overheard Diana point out another tear in the bat-suit. Alfred didn't want to sigh, but this was the third one tonight.

Then Diana mentioned she knew someone who was discreet. And they were very talented.

So Alfred asked for her for their information. Diana explained that they worked under a pseudonym but that they understood the need for a background check.

A few weeks later Marinette gets an email from one Agent A.

She's not surprised since Wonder Woman warned her beforehand, but she is shocked at how much he's willing to pay her.

Then she sees how many of each suit he's asking her to make.

She agrees, but still tries to lower the price.

She loses

She and Agent A email each other often, mostly to complain about superheroes and their recklessness with clothes. Then about their stubbornness and antics.

Then they start exchanging recipes. And talking about life. A knows about her troubles in school. Mari has learned that A is practically a superhero with everything he does for his bats.

Soon Mari has ideas about their suits and asks if she can change the design slightly on a few of them. This is when Mari learns more about the bats, and the Wayne's. Though she doesn't know it's them.

She also asks to try some experimental fabrics. Ones that are more bullet proof, or thinner but flame resistant. Some of them involve new technology and nanobots.

None of it is to noticeable to the public, but the rest of the hero community takes can tell.

They also notice the Batfam seem to have less injuries.

By this point Mari has made enough suits for each of them that Alfred can just send her a box once a week with the ones that need repairs.

The rest of the JL start to bother Batman about the changes. So of course Bruce asks Alfred when he got the chance to try new fabrics and Alfred shrugs and informs him of their new seamstress.

Cue Batfam freak out.

Diana is still handing out Mari's contact info. Mari becomes the go to designer for all the DC heroes, but she prefers anything to do with Agent A.

Then Alfred learns about Paris. Then he realizes why Diana would know about Mari.

Then maybe Mari's parents die. Not in an akuma attack, or a car accident. But a robbery. in their store. And she was there.

And it's like Bruce is eight again.

But his child is across an ocean, and they've never actually met before. And she can't actually leave Paris because somehow he's adopted another hero child. But this one started when she was actually a child.

Then Mari all but disappears.

All of the heroes get an email about how she is stepping away from commissions until further notice. Agent A is the only one who gets a longer message.

Wonder Woman is silent whenever someone asks where she is. She can only say that she’s alive.

Ladybug is seen on the streets more often than not. Marinette hasn't been seen in school since her parents died.

In fact her former classmates only catch glimpses of her entering the small apartment she now lives in. The emancipation paperwork went through easily at age 17. She finishes class online.

Because she's devoting all her time to finding Hawkmoth she actually finds him. The giant butterfly window was a big giveaway.

Gabriel Agreste and cohorts are taken into custody on her parents first death anniversary.

Chat Noir gives her back the ring through Plagg. They never exchange identities.

Mari is 18 now, standing in front of her apartment door, trying to get the energy to go inside. She may have completed her mission, but it's like a side note in her mind. She's gray, and dull compared to Before. Her apartment isn't much different.

Finally she opens the door.

Its not empty for once. There's a man, tall, with white hair, wearing a suit. She's never seen him before. But she knows.

They hug. And she cries. She finally cries because she can. And she won't get taken advantage of by an emotional terrorist.

Alfred asks if she wants to come home. She can only agree.

They return to the manor and Bruce can't remember why she looks familiar. He only saw a picture of her when he checked out Alfred's file on her from years ago. He's also trying to figure out if he had plans to adopt her.

His kids all kind of assume Bruce had and don't think to much on it. They are a little surprised by how close she stays to Alfred, but they all know Alfred is the best.

Alfred gives her a room next to his. She starts to take up some of his duties. Mostly some cooking, but also all of the clothing repairs. The Batfam don't know about the suits, but it's kind of their own fault. They are considered some of the world's greatest detectives. They should know who's fixing their vigilante stuff

It starts small, designing again. a hair clip here, a pair of socks there. Eventually she's making her own clothes again.

Finally she redesigns her Ladybug suit.

Then she emails the Heroes. Wonder Woman is ecstatic that she's back. Several commission her for other things instead of superhero needs.

Finally Bruce figures out where she came from and confronts Alfred. As far as he knew their designer didn't know their identities.

Alfred asks him to leave it alone, but he's Batman and he's paranoid so he doesn't. So he digs deeper.

Next thing he knows he has a little sister who's younger than some of his kids, but it doesn't matter because he knows Alfred has already adopted her and that makes her family.

He also learns about her role in Paris. Mari is a little surprised at the offer to train together, but not to terribly. She knows he's Batman.

Suddenly their dynamic changes. It's only a little different from that with his kids, but that's because of their relationship with Alfred.

The kids are confused.

Then Cass asks to spar. Those in the house gather to watch and can't believe that Mari is holding her own.

They all want to train with her now and she gets closer to all of them.

Alfred is there for all of it, making sure she's safe, in every possible way.

Finally she begins to heal.

That was a lot longer than I thought it would be, but apparently I have a lot of thoughts about Alfred and Mari.

[td-efs]

Episode 1: A New Start, Cast and Host

(Disclaimer: I don't own any character, except for Albert, the host for this. Everyone and TD belong to their respective creators. There will be some mature scenes, but we can guarantee no NSFW here, as some of the campers are minors. If there is a (==)(==), it means that a confessional or a transition is being used. The confessionals will be in italic. If I portray a character improperly, please tell me! I have little knowledge about some of the campers, so please correct me if you can! Now, let the show begin!)

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

On a remote island known as Xavihav located in the continent of Europe, we are introduced to our host Albert Petrou Yamakov, but you may refer to them as Al (not to be confused with Alejandro from the original series).

Albert was wearing a light pink polo shirt that was striped, topped with a reddish gray vest. They were wearing white gloves too. They also have a watch on their right wrist. They wore white pants and light pink shoes to match. They even wore a black choker. They have dark skin with freckles on their face and body. They do have a scar on their left cheek. They have a petit goatee that has less hair. They have icy blue eyes in their round, oval eyes. They have thick, black eyebrows. They also have long, black dreadlocks, tied into a ponytail. They wore black and white glasses.

“Hello hello!!” as Al greeted the camera gleefully. “Yes, I’m not that crazy Chris McLean. Please understand that! Now, where were we… ah, yes! Welcome to an entirely new season with an entirely new cast. But, what makes the new cast special? Well, they all come from different countries as well as different franchises!!”

*Beep beep*

“Wait, we got to do the intro now? Ok ok. Sorry about that, but let's get started!”

*Cue intro*

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

~Dear mom and dad, I’m doing fine, you guys are on my mind~

Al was running, as if they were late or something. The camera pans to a cliff then into the water below.

~You asked me what I wanted to be, and I think the answer is plain to see~

On the water, we see Giulia swimming alongside Asuka. However, Demoman interrupts them by cannonballing from a height. The impact caused some waves, pushing the girls somewhere else.

~ I wanna be famous~

The girls end up seeing Celty and Sergei interacting. Behind them was Link clashing against Sebastian, like a demon slayer versus a demon.

~ I wanna live close to the sun~

Velma and Thomas were discussing something but they got disturbed when they heard some angry noises. They saw Irina chasing Jean for doing something disrespectful to her. Unfortunately for Irina and Jean, they both fall off a waterfall as they weren’t looking where they’re going.

~ Well pack your bags cuz I’ve already won ~

As Irina and Jean fall into the water, Raihan records everything by taking pictures on his Rotom phone. We also see Diana and Anna talk about their families.

~Everything to prove nothing in my way~

A dance battle between Don and MacCoy emerges as Shermie watches them. Don’s toupee unfortunately falls off and he gets mad about it. At a distance, Cassandra was chuckling after witnessing it.

~I’ll get there one day~

At their Mess Hall, Lena is seen casting a little spell. It does cause some gas as Magica de Spell’s shadow is being summoned.

~Cause I wanna be famous~

The camera pans into the sky, where we see Millia flying around thanks to her cursed hair.

~Na, na, na-na-na-na, na-na-na, na, na-na-na-na~

We finally see Luigi patting Gromit, reminding him about Polterpup from his mansion.

~(Naaa) I wanna be… (naaa) I wanna be… (Naaa) I wanna be famous..~

Everyone hurried to the bonfire as fast as they could. We can also see some polaroids of each character on screen.

~(Naaa) I wanna be… (naaa) I wanna be… (Naaa) I wanna be famous!~

At last, everyone is seen, sitting in a circle around the bonfire. Al was holding pins on a plate. As the intro fades, a flash is seen from Raihan’s Rotom phone.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

“Hello again!” exclaimed Albert. “It’s time to meet our campers!!”

The first boat arrived which contained the 1st camper. He was a tall, dark skinned man. He wore an orange bandana while donning an undercut hairstyle. He wore a black hoodie over his navy and orange uniform. He had a strange phone with him.

“Welcome to Xavihav, Raihan!” as Albert greeted.

“Nice to meet ‘cha, Al” Raihan replied. “But, where are you?”

Albert looked up as Raihan was very tall. He tried to get his attention by waving to him.

“Over here!” as Al called.

“Oh, there you are. Didn’t see you there.”

“Heh… Well, please stand on the other side of the dock” Al requested.

“Alright, but first…”

Raihan’s Rotom phone takes a selfie of him and Al.

Albert asks him “ What kind of phone is that?”

“It’s my Rotom phone. It was given to me as a gift from my parents.” Raihan replied.

“Ok, then.”

Raihan heads to the opposite side of the dock.

The next camper was a fabulous woman. She has red hair where her bangs cover both of her eyes. She is wearing a pink jacket over a black dress that shows cleavage. She was as tall as Albert.

“Bonjour, Albert” greeted Shermie.

“Hello, Shermie, welcome to Xavihav.” he replied. “Did you make this dress?”

“Why yes, I did make this!” she answered.

“You look amazing.” Al complimented.

“Thank you, mon chéri”

“Please go stand with Raihan over there” they instructed.

Shermie goes along with the order and stands next to Raihan.

“What’s up, Shermie?” as Raihan extends his right hand towards her.

“Nice to meet you, Raihan.” as she shakes Raihan’s hand.

The next camper… isn’t a human, more so, a duck. She has a pink ombre and a black and grey striped shirt that tops her blue blouse. She also has some kind of necklace.

“Our next camper is… Lena Sabrewing?”

“Yep, that’s me.” as Lena looked up to see Albert.

“Wow, this is the first time that I’ve seen a talking duck, face to face!” Albert was surprised.

“Heh, so this is the island, right?”

Albert responded “Yep! Now, I need you to stand with the other campers, got it?”

“Gotcha.” as Lena walks towards the other campers.

“Yooooo, this girl is interesting” Raihan thought.

“She could be an entertainment, but we’ll see.” Shermie thought.

The upcoming boat drops off 2 Italians by the dock. One of them wore a long sleeved, green shirt that matches his green hat that has the letter L on it. He has a mustache. He was significantly taller than his boat partner. Beside him was a young girl, a redhead with curly hair and a blue beanie. She also wore a striped top.

“Mamma mia…” muttered Luigi.

“Woah…” Giulia gasped.

“Welcome to the show you two!” greeted Albert.

“N-nice to meet-a you, Al.” said Luigi.

“Great to see you, Albert!” said Giulia.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you two!” replied Al. “But, question for Luigi. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m-a okay…”

“Are you nervous? It’s okay to tell us…” Giulia counseled.

“... yes, I am-a nervous…” Luigi answered.

Al said “It’s okay to be nervous, Luigi. We all tend to be anxious too. Please join the other campers.”

The two Italians walked to the group.

The next campers didn’t need boats. They were actually flying. One of them used a broom, implying that she’s a witch. The other uses her strange hair to glide her way in.

“Huh where are they?” Al questioned.

*Beep beep*

*Look up?”

“WOAH!” they exclaimed as they looked up.

“Good day. I am Diana Cavendish.” The younger girl greeted. “You may all know me from “Little Witch Academia”.”

“Yes, you guys may know her. Now Let’s meet our next camper.”

The girl with the strange hair lands on her feet. “Greetings, Albert.” said Millia.

“Oh… pretty…”

*Beep beep*

“Oh sorry! I was charmed by your beauty…” Al apologized.

“It’s okay, but please focus next time.” Millia advised.

Diana and Millia join the others.

“Thank goodness there are other minor aged girls, I thought I would be the only one..” Diana thought.

“These guys could help me or hinder me. I better keep an eye on them” as Millia planned.

Then, we see a pale skinned butler. He has black hair and red eyes. Is he a demon or something?

“Welcome, Sebastian.” Al greeted.

“Greetings, Albert,” he responded. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“So um, who are you serving under? I’m curious…” Albert asked.

“I am serving under the Phantomhives, most specifically, under Ciel Phantomhive. He wanted to know who murdered his beloved family, so I decided to help him.” Sebastian answered.

“Oh.. I’m just glad you’re there to help…”

“Hpmh, yes. Now, I’ll go and wait.”

Sebastian walks to the group.

“Is this-a butler.. Strange to-a me?” thought Luigi.

"He just… gives me a feeling similar to Zato's…" thought Millia.

The next campers were pretty girls. One of them has brown hair with a white ombre. She was wearing a blue dress with a black corset and a fuschia cloak. The other is a blonde woman, wearing a teacher's uniform that showed cleavage.

"Hi there!!" as Anna gleefully greets Al.

"It's very nice to meet you, Anna." They responded. "How are you and Elsa?"

"We're both doing well. She's been feeling a lot better lately!" she answered.

"That's great!" They said. "And you miss?" as he turns to the teacher.

"My name is Irina, but my students knew me as Professor B//tch back in my universe"

"Oh my…" they blushed.

Irina and Anna walked to the others as well.

The next camper had headphones as well as a blue jacket. He has golden yellow hair and shades.

"Yo yo yo! Wazzup Albert!!" as MacCoy checked Albert out.

"Welcome to the show MacCoy! Great to see you!!" as Al was excited by his energy.

"Che-che-check out my moves!"

MacCoy proceeds to dance on the dock which impresses some of the other campers.

"Y'all liked that?" he asked.

"We did. Thanks MacCoy." said Albert.

"Woah-ho-ho-ho, MacCoy's got some moves, I like it." Raihan thought.

The next campers were both geniuses. The girl had an orange sweater and glasses while the boy wore a muted green shirt and baggy white pants.

"Welcome to Xavihav, Velma and Thomas!" as Al greeted them.

"Pleasure to meet you guys." Velma responded.

"Nice to meet you as well." said Thomas.

"Now, we've heard you guys are one of the smarties in your own crafts. But, what are they?"

Velma answered "I work alongside my friends for the Mystery Gang."

"I know data and theoretical principles, which can be helpful under circumstances." Thomas added.

"Very nice you two." Al applauded.

Our next camper is pretty young. She had nerve clips in her hair as she is proud about being a pilot despite her age. She was also wearing a school uniform, however, Irina knows that she isn't one of her students.

"Hi everyone!" as Asuka greeted gleefully.

"Welcome to the show, Asuka. It's nice to have you here." Al replied.

Asuka smiles happily as she sees the others, wanting to prove herself while making herself proud.

"She looks so cute!" as Giulia thought.

"Another student huh? I might wanna teach her something." Irina thought.

"She seems brash and proud, reminds me about… me before…" thought Diana.

The next camper ran towards Albert, taking them by surprise.

"AHH!" as Albert jumped.

"Hahaha! I must be drunk!" said Demoman.

"Hey buddy, this is all on TV, so um… please no alcoholic drinks… got it…?" Albert requested.

"Ah, right, forgot about it. Sorry about that." as he apologized.

He went to the others, who didn't have a good impression of him.

"Anta baka!? (What are you, stupid!?)" thought Asuka.

The boat dropped off another camper. This time, he was tall and muscular. He has 2 halves of a heart that were broken as earrings. He also has silvery white hair. He seemed like a god, right?

"Hello, Jean. How are you?"

"Nice to meet you, Albert." Jean responded.

"Gee, uh, do you have some kind of power?"

"Why yes, I do!" he answered.

Jean sends out his stand "Silver Chariot" as it dashes out swifty sword jabs with it's rapier.

"Hahaha! How was that?" Jean asked.

"Amazing!"

This made Jean happy as he walked to the others.

The next camper was a cheerful woman who uses a sword and a shield. She wore clothes that had a bit of cleavage. She was also a blonde.

"Hey hey!" exclaimed Cassandra.

"Woah! Welcome Cassandra!!"

"It's great to meet you!"

"Same here." They replied. "What do you want to say to your fans?"

"Take care of yourselves and have a great time!"

"Thank you very much Cassandra."

The next two campers are… quite quiet. One of them had golden yellow hair and a green elf hat. He usually never talks. The other? Well, he's an intelligent dog.

"Welcome Link and Gromit! Welcome them into Xavihav!!"

Link and Gromit shake Al's hand. They were surprised that Link couldn't speak much. They knew Gromit can't talk because of the fact that he's a dog.

The next camper was a boxer. He had brown eyes and hair, as well as red shorts with yellow accents. He seemed older than he appears.

"Hola!" greeted Don.

"Hello, Don. Welcome to Xavihav!" Al grined. "One question though, how old are you?"

"I am currently 23, hombre." Don answered.

"Woah… he's younger than he appears…" as Albert thought.

"You got quite a nose." as Albert boops Don's big nose.

"Heh, it's nothing." as Don gently flicks their hand away.

Finally, the last two campers rode a motorcycle, courtesy of one of the campers. The owner wore a yellow and blue helmet shaped like a cat. She wore a black jumpsuit as well as black gloves and boots. Her companion was very quiet. He wore a light blue polo and a black tie while donning a navy coat with golden prints of eagles. He also wore a beret.

"At last, welcome Celty and Sergei to the party!"

"Pleasure to meet you, Albert," said Celty. "I hope we can have a good time here.

"Hope so too!" They responded. "And hello Sergei."

Sergei simply waves gently towards Al.

"Hm.. this guy's quiet… but I don't mind it" they thought.

“Let’s see… one.. two.. there…! Everyone is here. Now, please make your way to the campsite, it’s for something important.” as Albert counted and instructed.

(LATER)

The 22 campers were suited in a circle around the bonfire. Some try to interact with one another. Diana and Velma were discussing the competition, trying to predict what would happen. Don tries to flirt with Shermie. Demoman was drinking, again. Luigi and Giulia were playing with Gromit to entertain themselves. Raihan took a selfie of himself with Lena. However, they stopped when Albert came up to them.

“Alright everyone! Tonight’s the night where we choose your teams. This year, we’ll have captains. But instead of us selecting, it will be randomized!”

Everyone was all surprised with this new change.

“Now.. your captains this year are… Link and Sergei!”

“Woah! I’m a captain!” thought Link.

“...” thought Sergei.

“Link, your teammates are Sebastian, Jean, Luigi, Thomas, MacCoy, Shermie, Lena, Diana, Giulia and Irina. Everyone mentioned will have to go to Link’s area.”

The ten campers go to Link’s area.

“Hey-a, Link, do your-a best, okay? We’ll do-a same thing!” said Luigi.

“Mhm.” Link nods.

“You got this, dude!” said Lena “Have fun as well!!”

“Judging from your silence Link, and from your weapon, your team will be... the Silent Swords!”

Irina said “Makes sense…”

A logo of a black sword appears. It also had an assassin wielding it.

“I kinda like it… could use some work though.” Shermie thought.

“And as for the rest of you, Raihan, Don, Demoman, Gromit, Asuka, Velma, Cassandra, Celty, Millia and Anna, you’ll all join Sergei’s team.”

“Oh great! Now I have to team up with that drunk soldier!” thought Asuka.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” asked Raihan.

Sergei gave a nod, meaning to say that he has nothing to say about the group.

“Well, we got a lot of oddballs in this team,” said Velma. “I’m just saying though.”

“For Sergei’s team, judging from your alias and your skillset, your team is called… the Angelic Axes!”

A logo of an angel wielding an axe appears.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

“This is the confessional room. If you wanna say anything without expressing it towards other campers, you can say it here. It’s perfect for secrets and stuff. Say whatever you want, it’s all safe here… mostly…”

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

Link writes up his feelings. It said “I can’t believe I'm the captain for this. I’ve been a hero in my own universe, but never something like this! Either way, I’ll do whatever I can to lead my team to victory!”

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

“... I know I don’t talk a-a lot, but… I feel… happy to lead these people.” said Sergei.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

“And now, if you guys look to your left, those are the cabins for the Silent Swords. On your right, those are the cabins for the Angelic axes. You guys will get a cabin per team, one for all males and one for all females. Now, go to your respective cabins and have fun!”

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

(Swords Boy Cabin)

Everyone was busy unloading their stuff. MacCoy thought of an idea to lighten the mood. He played some music, hoping to get everyone interested.

“Hey guys, why don’t we try to have fun this evening?” as MacCoy danced.

The music did manage to get the boys to dance. Well, almost everyone.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?” asked Thomas.

“I’m just simply making tea for myself,” he said. “Do you want something?”

“Well, no. Are you gonna dance?”

“No, thanks.” Sebastian answered. “I’ll be busy,” he added.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

“Sebastian is pretty strange… I noticed that he isn’t tired, even from the trip here. I get that he’s a butler and all, but, something seems.. off about him…” said Thomas.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

(Swords Girl Cabin)

“So what do you think of our team?” Lena asked.

“So far, I don’t know much about our chances to win,” said Diana “ But, we must overcome the odds.”

“Yes, we have to.” Giulia agreed.

“Well, we better rest now, it’s a big day tomorrow.” as Irina reminded them.

While the other girls were talking, Shermie expressed her opinions.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

“I’m pretty sure we’ll survive this, especially with how interesting our team is. Also, I didn’t know that we have minors here, which makes it more entertaining for me” Shermie admitted.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

(Axes Girl Cabin)

“Ughhh! So tiring!" as Asuka whined while lying on her bed.

“I know!” added Anna.

“Guys look, I know you’re all tired, but quit whining right now.” Velma ordered.

“Yeah, it’s time to relax!” Cassandra added.

Millia decided to comfort both Asuka and Anna with her cursed hair as a blanket.

Meanwhile, Celty watched them interact.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

“Even though our team has… liabilities… we still have a chance to overpower the Swords. But right now, I need to sleep…” said Celty.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

(Axes Boy Cabin)

Raihan took another selfie with his Rotom phone. Behind him was the Spanish boxer, Don.

“Hola, Raihan!” said Don.

“Yo what’s up Don?”

“¿Me puedo tomar una foto contigo?” Don asked.

“...uh what?”

“Ay… right, right, right, you don't spanish." Don remembered. "I meant to ask "Can I take a photo with you?" ."

"Sure, why not?"

Raihan takes another selfie with Don, making themselves happy.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

"Señor Raihan was quite patient, much to my amusement. Maybe we might come… amigos (friends) in this." as Don confessed.

(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)(==)

Gromit was also inside the cabin, thinking about his owner, Wallace.

Demoman was drinking but much less as he didn't want to disturb the girls.

Finally, Sergei was looking at the night sky. Nobody knows why though. He was humming a little tune he knew.

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Author's note: Finally! I've finished Episode 1 of this crossover Total Drama. It was long but it was also worth it. Hope you like it! :)

[peterxwade24]

The Story of Mantis and Beast Boy

For Maribat March 2021 day 9 prompt Teen Titans.

This is a prequel to last year's fic Mantis and Gentlebug. I hope everyone enjoys reading about how Marinette and Garfield got together.

Anyways, enjoy ~

Marinette glowered at her father as he drove her to Jump City. She didn’t understand his reasons for dumping her with the Titans. She hadn’t threatened any of her brothers in months!

“Marinette. This is for your own good.” Her father said as he glanced over at her. “Your brothers and I are worried about your intrapersonal skills.”

---

Marinette stood just outside of the elevator with her duffle at her feet. Just a few feet in front of her was a couch with three people on it.

From her left to her right was a large African-American teen with cybernetic elements, a light gray skinned girl with violet-blue hair, and a teen with green hair and skin. The three were looking at her, and she simply stared back until someone else walked into the room.

Starfire, or as Marinette was introduced to her at a family dinner Kor’i, stood just inside the doorway from what appeared to be the kitchen with a smile on her face. “Hello Bumgorf.”

“K’Norfka.” Marinette bowed her head in respect towards the older girl. “Father has decided I am your problem now. Please show me to my quarters so I may put down my belongings and get situated.”

“Of course Bumgorf. Follow me.” Kor’i led Marinette through the tower to the room that used to belong to Dick, because Kor’i knew Marinette was going to miss her brothers. “This is the room you will be staying in while you live in the tower.”

“Thank you K’Norfka.” Marinette offered the older woman a smile as she mechanically went about sweeping the room for bugs and then she began unpacking.

---

Marinette kept mostly to herself for the first almost month, only really talking to Starfire. She did, however, make food in the kitchen to share with the rest of the members of the tower. She made Batata harra and Mansaf, with a vegetarian alternative available, within the first week she was in the tower.

It was during her fourth week in the Tower that she was finally forced to interact with the other occupants of the Tower.

“So, we’ve never been introduced but my name’s Garfield. Garfield Logan, but around here they call me Beast Boy, or BB. It’s on account of my ability to turn into animals, or beasts, whether they’re alive or dead.” He held out his hand with a smile. “I never caught your name.”

Marinette looked the green teen up and down before raising an eyebrow. “Logan. You are barely worth associating with. You may call me Wayne.” She begrudgingly accepted his hand and shook it.

---

For weeks on end Marinette would run into Garfield, slowly getting to the stage where she trusted him enough to tell him her name. It was also during this time that she was officially introduced to the other two teens.

---

“BB says you’re alright. Figured I’d see for myself.” The African-American teen began. “Name’s Cyborg.”

“Raven.” The girl with light gray skin said from beside Cyborg.

“Wayne.” Marinette responded, nodding her head at them before turning to walk away to find Kor’i. “This was pleasant. Let’s do it again sometime.”

---

Marinette was sequestered away in her room, again, with Roadkill on her lap purring away. The only other person aware of Roadkill’s presence in the Tower was Kor’i, Kor’i had already said she’d get her another cat when she went back to the manor.

However, another person was about to find out about Roadkill’s presence.

Garfield walked into Marinette’s room without knocking. “Hey Wayne. You wan- oh my Diana! Is that a cat?”

Marinette looked at the green boy, her green eyes wide as she attempted to hide her cat behind her back. “Cat? What cat?”

She almost would have gotten away with it, if Roadkill hadn’t made her displeasure known by growling at her owner.

“What’s your cat’s name?” Garfield asked as he held his hand out to Marinette’s cat.

“Her name’s Roadkill, she’s a Kurilian Bobtail.”

---

Marinette was finally allowed to go on missions with the Teen Titans a few months into her stay, Mantis joining the ranks of the team with her suit zipped up all the way. Slowly but surely she started to get more comfortable around the team, allowing first Garfield then Cyborg and Raven to call her by her first name. In return the two told her their first names and allowed her to call them by their first names. She also introduced Victor and Rachel to Roadkill, admitting that Roadkill had been her best friend for as long as she’d had her.

Marinette eventually got so comfortable around them that she forgot that they didn’t know about her soulmark.

Rachel was the first to see it, the two girls in Kor’i’s room getting ready to go out for a girl’s night out. She simply raised an eyebrow before pulling up the bottom hem of her shirt to reveal an eight pointed star beside what appeared to be two empty vials, one rightside up and one upside down, stacked atop one another. “I know all about weird soulmarks.”

The two girls heard Kor’i approaching and hurriedly covered their soulmarks, not that they didn’t trust the older woman, just that they didn’t feel the need to share something so personal with someone who didn’t need to know.

---

After that evening with Rachel in Kor’i’s room, it almost seemed like her secret was a ball rolling down a hill. It happened in reverse order, after Rachel found out it was just a few days until Victor found out (sharing a soulmark identical to Rachel’s in the process), and nearly two weeks before Garfield found out (letting out a joy filled cheer before revealing an identical one on his chest), and finally Kor’i found out with a smile on her face and an agreement to not tell her family.

---

It was nearly two months after the fact that Marinette and Garfield finally started dating, supervised dates to get ice cream or dinner and nights spent in with the rest of the team. They grew close, close enough for Garfield to come up with a nickname for her. He nicknamed her Orchid, for her elegance in all aspects of her life.

The two seemed to mesh well, accepting each other’s quirks and complimenting their differences. They were a near perfect match, there was just something missing that neither could pinpoint.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[squiddybeifong]

Not-Quite Couples Therapy, Chapter 4

On Ao3 here!

-- 

Raven had sat in her car until the very last possible second, her head in her hands. Hoping that simply tearing up wouldn’t make her eyes too red, the goth begrudgingly made her way into the building. She hesitated at the sight of the stairwell’s door and opted to take the elevator again, resting against the metal railing as she watched the ‘Level 5’ button light up under the press of her finger.

Donna and Dr. Quinzel were greeting each other in the hallway when the elevator’s shrill ding! rang in the air. Raven sheepishly waved at them as she walked up, fiddling with her rings and ignoring the slight furrow in Donna’s brow as the three entered the office. 

The psychiatrist gave a small smile as she sat in her armchair and crossed her legs, watching as Raven and Donna sat in their usual spots. Blue eyes looked over the couple, deciding that the harrowed look in Raven’s eyes and the tension in her shoulders should be the first thing to address. “How’s everything been going, you two?”

Dr. Quinzel briefly met Raven’s gaze, “We could talk about the obvious elephant in the room?” Her voice took on a lilt at the end, the therapist obviously not wanting to upset her before the session could really begin. 

Donna leaned back in the loveseat, glad that she wasn’t going to be the first one to be analyzed as Raven softly deadpanned, “You mean my father.”

The blonde considered the emotions that the goth kept hidden just below the surface, her smile softening into something that was both professional and maternal as she saw how terrified Raven was at where the conversation was going. Dr. Quinzel’s answer came out as a sigh, “Yes, if you’d like to talk about him.”

Blue eyes flicked to Donna for just a second, “And how this has been affecting your relationship.”

Donna moved to play with one of her numerous bracelets, twisting one of the plastic ones around her wrist as the whir of the air conditioning filled the office. Raven, biting the inside of her cheek, fought the urge to let out a sigh at the psychiatrist’s words. 

Her voice quiet, the goth admitted, “It has been straining some of my relationships, actually.”

Gray eyes flicked to Donna for the briefest of moments, Raven’s gaze settling in her lap as she intertwined her fingers and squeezed until the pads of her fingers turned white with pressure. “Kori --she’s my best friend, she hasn’t been sleeping right since the manhunt started.” Dr. Quinzel silently made note of the way Raven’s voice cracked at the word ‘manhunt’ but she didn’t speak up about it, something that the goth was eternally grateful for. 

Taking in a breath through her nose, Raven closed her eyes and continued, “I don’t really tell people my last name anyway, but some of those who know… they’ve been avoiding me.” With her face facing her lap, Raven didn’t see the way Donna’s face hardened at the revelation, her fingers pinching the thin plastic of her bracelets, just barely remembering not to let them snap in the air. A shaky sigh slipped out of the goth as she fiddled with her rings, “The library doesn’t even want me helping out the kids until he’s caught.”

“That’s awful,” Dr. Quinzel gently spoke. She didn’t look at her notes as she wrote down her observations, her gaze continually going to the expected mishmash of emotions that crossed Donna’s painfully obvious features. The rock climber certainly understood why Raven was being pushed out, perhaps a sizable part of her even wanted to join the crowd in their exclusion, but there was something concerned and protective in Donna’s face that needed to be addressed if the couple was to get through the session. 

Dr. Quinzel chewed the end of her pen, knowing where she wanted to take the conversation, “But Raven, I need to ask you something.” The goth looked up, an almost expectant glimmer of emotion that came in the dark circles around her eyes. She obviously hadn’t been sleeping properly, but the psychiatrist was struck with the understanding that Raven fully expected to be attached to her father’s decisions, no matter how badly she didn’t want to be. 

“You do know that nothing he does is your fault, correct?” The blonde kept an eye on Donna as Raven sat on her hands, “We can’t control others’ actions, just our own. And from what I’m seeing, you seem to want nothing to do with him. I won’t fault you for that, Raven.”

Donna softly tilted her head, crossing her arms as she added, “And I won’t either.”

Raven’s head whipped to the side so fast Dr. Quinzel worried that she gave herself whiplash. Obviously not expecting Donna to be on her side, the goth tried to play off her surprise, tucking the wayward strands of hair back behind her ear. She inadvertently shrunk back half an inch when Donna met her stare head-on, the rock climber’s voice dropping low as she tersely added, “But that doesn’t mean I’m not fucking horrified that Dick thought to set us up.”

Raven’s face hardened and a retort was on her lips when Dr. Quinzel interrupted; aiming a reassuring smile the couple’s way, she rolled with the change in topic, “Yes, it’s out in the open. Donna, you know what Raven’s father has done, but his actions are his own. Raven has nothing to do with it, so how does that make you feel?”

“I just don’t know why Dick set us up, then.” Donna stretched her bracelet around her wrist over and over again, the repetition in both her words and her fingers’ movements just barely keeping her leg from bouncing as wildly as she wanted. 

Her brows furrowed, “I have expectations. For myself and for who I keep in my life. I don’t know why he’d think I wanted to be with the daughter of a fucking druglord.” Raven winced at the venom in her date’s voice and ran a hand through her hair. Her voice was quiet and resigned when she spoke, turning her head to the fern painting as she repeated her claim from their last session, “We don’t even know each other.”

Donna clicked her tongue and fought back a scoff, “We don’t.”

Dr. Quinzel let out a knowing hum, professional experience knowing how close they were to getting a bit too personal. She clicked her pen and gently redirected the conversation, “Well, we could always come back to the topic later on.” 

Raven crossed her legs and leaned against the loveseat’s arm, none of the tension leaving even as she stared at the fern’s brushstrokes. Dr. Quinzel once again worried that she’d gnaw a hole through her cheek but leaned back in her armchair rather than commenting on the couple’s coping strategies that she’d seen so far. 

“Now, as for Donna,” Dr. Quinzel started, “You seemed to be worried about your family issues affecting your relationship as well. Would you like to speak on it?”

The rock climber seemed to start to panic, shaking her head and pulling her hands to her lap at the sudden flash of attention. Her voice was clipped as she forced a smile, “I’m fine.”

Raven didn’t look away from the fern but her chin did inch towards Donna, who was awful at keeping emotion out of her voice. Dr. Quinzel’s encouraging smile lit up the room, “This is a safe space, Donna. It’s fine to get uncomfortable; that’s kinda what therapy’s for.”

The blonde tilted her face, discreetly checking her notes as she assumed, “Is this about Diana?”

Donna’s eyes widened and Dr. Quinzel let out a knowing sigh, “Sibling rivalry is rather commonplace and completely natural, you know.”

“No, it’s not a rivalry,” Donna shook her head, her opposition to the word compelling her to speak. Her fingers clasped in her lap for a moment as she tried to think of what it was that she felt so jealous of when it came to her older sister, but when words failed her she resorted to fiddling with her bracelets again. 

“It’s not like we compete or anything. I mean we do, but that’s sparring or trying out new techniques for when we actually try out for competitions.” Donna looked down at her lap, her glare loosening as she tried to put her feelings into words, “It’s never been a fight for how many accolades we can get. We’ve always celebrated each other’s accomplishments; she was in my corner when I taught a new rock climbing class and I was in the stands when she won both her Olympic golds. I just…”

Donna leaned back in the loveseat, sinking into the leather as she finally admitted, “I just can’t keep up.”

Dr. Quinzel didn’t comment on the dejection that filled the muscular woman’s voice, instead making note of it on paper. She nudged her glasses higher up her nose, “And that obviously bothers you. Have you ever talked to Diana or anyone else about this?”

Donna shrugged and rubbed the back of her neck, “Dick knows, I guess.”

“You don’t seem glad about that.”

The psychiatrist’s observation was met with a snort, “Well, yeah. He’s pretty much pierced it together from when I vent to him. I mean, I can handle getting my ass handed to me and I can even handle always being the second best.” A bit of resentment was creeping into her voice, “It’s fine to not be the first choice; I’m okay being Donna, the constant runner up. But it’s just--” 

She stopped fiddling with her bracelets and let her shoulders slump as she realized why even the mention of her older sister brought a surge of anxiety in her stomach: there was something awful about being second best to someone who was too genuine to even think about being a sore winner. “She’s always so damn encouraging. It doesn’t matter if I’m too slow to qualify again, Diana’s gonna be there cheering me on.” Donna palmed her face with one hand, her words coming out in an incredulous laugh as she tried to bite back the glassiness that was taking over her eyes, “Even if it’s after she beats me in a sport she doesn’t even like!” 

Raven shifted in her seat as Dr. Quinzel hummed out, “At least it’s good to have someone positive to go up against.”

That got her a laugh, this one softer than before. Donna wiped at her eyes, “I know! She cares a lot and even if I know the good that Diana can do outside of shot put and rock climbing… seeing how good she is at everything, I can’t help but wonder--”

Gray eyes just barely refrained from glancing at Donna. Raven let out a noisy huff through her nose as she palmed her face, easily guessing where Donna was going as she muttered under her breath, “What you’re good enough at?”

Running a hand through her hair, Donna tossed her hands in the air, “--then why aren’t I good enough?”

Raven furrowed her brows but elected to stay silent; Dr. Quinzel gave her a small smile, leaning forward to rest her clipboard on her knees as she tried to reassure her client, “I haven’t known you long but I sure think you are.”

“And I know I’m not.” Donna bit back a scoff and turned her head to look at her date, commenting on her silence, “And let me guess, Raven. You’ve already seen something, right? You already know why?”

Raven jerked back at Donna’s question, her eyes widening as she whipped her head to look at the rock climber, “I don’t think…” Her lips twitched as she faltered, “I mean I never said--”

“Oh I know you never said it out loud. Why would you? I’m just the jock who can’t even dream of living up to her family.” 

Dr. Quinzel was hastily scribbling in her notebook as she let their conversation play out, determined only to interrupt if they resorted to insults. Neither of her clients noticed. Donna crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, her growing impression of her date’s background finally bubbling to the surface, “I’m not like you, Raven. I’m not the one who just has to not be a fuckup to be better than the rest of my lot.”

Her stare didn’t waver as Raven’s lips pursed into a thin line, the goth’s words coming out clipped, “At least you have a family to measure up to.”

There was a tense second of silence as the two glared at each other. Raven, against her better judgment, spoke out a parting quip, “Even if you’re too ungrateful to see it.” 

She clicked her tongue and held Donna’s glower, her words aimed at the therapist as she spat out, “Can you imagine being annoyed at a sibling that actually puts in effort to encourage you? Who cares if you’ll never be able to measure up! At least you have an environment where you’ll be supported to try to get better.”

Donna scoffed, her anger getting the better of her as she crossed her arms, sarcastically agreeing with her, “Better to be annoyed by an overaccomplishing sister than to be associated with a murder-happy druglord, I suppose.”

Dr. Quinzel put down her pen and clapped once, holding her clasped hands together against her chest as tensions flared, “Okay! That’s quite enough. How about we reset things, hmmm?”

The couple didn’t break their stare, both bitterly wondering why their friends were so insistent on setting them up with someone who obviously didn’t understand the pressure that the other felt. Raven narrowed her eyes at her date, “No thanks. How about we just stop early again?”

“I would strongly advise against that,” Dr. Quinzel said. She sat up in her armchair, her jacket’s red shoulderpads and blue handkerchiefs reflecting the light onto her face and giving the lines of her mouth a more serious look. “You two need to learn how to properly communicate how you’re feeling, but we absolutely must go over proper arguing techniques.”

Both glanced at her from the corner of their eyes and Dr. Quinzel surged on, glad to have their attention. She held out her hands, her smile a bit strained, “You two are partners. There’s no reason to--”

“But we aren’t partners!” Donna’s words came out as an exasperated cry as she uncrossed her arms. She ran a hand through her hair and hastily wiped at her eyes, hating how she always lost her cool whenever her inadequacies came up.

Raven’s face hardened at her date’s somewhat accurate claim, forcing a nonchalant shrug as she abruptly stood to put back on her jacket, “She’s right. We aren’t.”

Dr. Quinzel’s concern was palpable as she tried to make eye contact with either of her clients, Knowing that both women were bound to be out of her office before they could resolve what had been said, the psychiatrist urged them one last time, “You two need to actually try to understand each other’s side. There’s a lot of familial pain for both of you; you’re actually rather similar in that regard. If you’d let me show you how to talk it out--”

Donna’s face scrunched up at the idea, her hands practically circling each other as she methodically played with her bracelets. Raven kept her face towards that painted fern, a sigh slipping out of the goth as she curled her fingers to keep her rings on while sliding her jacket over her arms. Gray eyes kept flicking around the room, picking up on how Donna seemed ready to jump out of her seat the longer they were in the same room. 

Raising her voice a notch to do some sort of damage control before Raven could leave the room, Dr. Quinzel sighed out, “Okay, fine. You two take some time to cool off. Sometimes that’s what’s needed most. But do know I expect to see you both next week.”

The goth’s movements faltered for half a second then she practically teleported to the door, her pale hand tightening on the knob as she bid goodbye, “Thanks, Doctor.”

Dr. Quinzel’s eyes went to Donna as the tall woman sat on the edge of her seat, fiddling with her bracelets until the plastic one that she’d been favoring that day finally snapped, stretched too far without a reprieve. The therapist gave her a soft smile, not commenting on the bracelet’s fate, “There’s still quite a bit of time before 4 o’clock, Donna. We could still talk over what you said about Diana--”

The rock climber let out a choking sort of cough as she interrupted Dr. Quinzel, hiding her discomfort with an awkward smile. There was a hidden hope in her eyes that the half minute would be enough for Raven to have completely left the building as she stood from the loveseat. 

“I’d love to, but I gotta go. Bye, Dr. Q,” Donna ran a tongue over her teeth but she didn’t wait for a response, almost skipping as her rushing steps took her out of the office and into the stairwell. As her sneakers loudly slapped on the concrete steps, Donna ran a hand through her long hair and tried to think of whether or not Dick was working a double shift that day; she desperately needed someone to spar with.

Back in office 527, all was quiet except for the ticking of the clock, which read 3:46. Leaning back in the plushness of her chair, Dr. Quinzel chewed on her bottom lip as she let out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. The blonde let her brows raise, the full scope of disbelief and concern that professionalism concealed during the session finally showing on her face; it had certainly been a while since she’d had to witness such an argument during couples counseling. Letting out a sigh as she braced herself on the chair’s arms, Dr. Quinzel softly got up from her chair, closing the door to her office. 

Neither Donna nor Raven knew how to properly argue within a relationship, that was for sure. 

Her red-tipped nails clashed against her blue pen as she sat at her desk and scribbled out a single word on how the day’s session had gone, her lips in a thin line as she wondered what she’d see when she saw them the next week: ‘Disastrous.’

[micrathene-w]

My darling Phoebe visits me the next day. As we sit down to chat, she tilts her head and gives me an odd look.

“Mom… your hair?” she begins.

“Just pretend it has always been this way, my darling,” I tell her. “EA’s genetics update finally got closer to what I should have had from the start.”

Phoebe nods, stifling a laugh.

______________________________________________

(No, I don’t intend to let Diana start breaking the fourth wall on a regular basis, but honestly she was never supposed to have gray hair so I changed both her and Mahina over to the new white-blond option now that DI’s CC hairs have been updated with it.)

[darwin-xf]

Bedside Manner . 9

So this is new. But in the middle. To start from the start click here at A03

She was chilly. Cold actually, naked too, her flesh goosed, the air conditioner still chugging away, the bedspread cast aside. Gently, she disentangled from her sleeping partner, lifting his arm slung heavily over her ribs, and slipped out of bed. He resettled, but didn’t stir.

Thirsty.

Before ducking into the bathroom, she copped a gaze at snoozing Mulder in the bed. Her bed. Mid- morning sun filtering in through the windows, him bellied down on the mattress, smooth back and spindly calves protruding from the sheet that covered his glutes, his thighs. His strong stubbled jaw. Breathing deeply.

And yeah. Mulder’s recent confession aside, she wasn’t sure she should hold out any hope of ever being the pretty one in this relationship. Mulder.

Thirsty. She filled a glass with cold water from the tap and tipped it toward her lips, intent on draining it down. She caught herself, though, and spilled it down the sink. Between the hurricane and the resultant power situation, no telling what type of beasties might’ve worked their way into the water table, sea monsters aside.

Instead she grabbed a fresh washcloth off the shelf, stopped the sink and cranked the spigots full blast, holding her face over the water, breathing steam. She dipped her cupped hands and scrubbed her neck and her cheeks, her chin and nose, eyes and her forehead. She rose, and was surprised by her reflection in the glass. She smiled ruefully, though not without mirth, shaking her head.

After Mulder had turned up in her room on an otherwise ordinary night and dazzled her with his... rather extraordinary skill set? They could have walked things back. That would have been the time. Shattered as she was, there had been some privacy in the dark. A sense of remove. The fiction that he was just helping her with her cramps. Returning a favor, as it were.

After she came, she rolled away from him and hugged her knees. Remembered how to breathe. And whatever doubts and fears she’d batted away while in the clutches of her outsized need for him and the resultant hormonal surge returned all at once. Then she was rocking, swaying side to side, praying she’d come back to herself. Anxious to recover a sliver of dignity. She wished he would take the hint and go away.

She could feel him behind her, waffling...waiting... shifting on the bed. Go away, she thought. But she did not say.

A few heartbeats later, he fitted his bare chest to her back, stilling her body. When his arm came around and gathered her closer, her mind also came to rest. Then he nuzzled his face in her hair— Mulder—and she, spent and depleted, surrendered to sleep.

Still, she’s pretty sure that from there, they could have tucked that moment into some forgotten pocket and moved on. Plausibly.

Recovered their practiced dynamic, established and perfected over the course of dozens then hundreds then thousands of days and nights, filled with slideshows and jokes and car rides and quarrels and flights, interrogations and meals and phone calls and chases and meetings and fights. It was what they did. It was who they were. It was what she knew.

It was a fine thing they built over time, a beautiful jalopy of a partnership. Every week they kicked the tires, hopped in and away they went.

But it could be fragile. It was threatened, she knew on some elemental level, by whatever Mulder was working out with Diana Fowley. She planned to stay as long as she could.

But this. This. This could be even more destabilizing. Which is why she knew he’d never touch her. Even after she’d absorbed the fact that he absolutely wanted to.

Instead he’d lean into his porn and his pickup basketball, his burritos and geek talk with the Gunmen, his phone sex and his books and his movies and always, his true love, his files. Clearly he found time to pump some iron too, as much as he’d filled out in recent years. He sharpened and hardened his torso, bringing to the fore obscure muscles and tendons and veins she’d long forgotten the names of. She’d look him over coolly in the car or office, then look them up later in Gray’s Anatomy, then get herself off with the tome open next to her on her bed just like she did when she was fourteen. As if he needed another way to vex her.

To get him back she whetted and sculpted her own physique, got a better stylist who vamped and fussed over her hair until it curled just so, till she imagined that it whispered to him through the dark. After her cancer, after Jerse, with that chip in her neck and a new fierce determination, she learned to carry her losses, afraid but brave, with one true mission, and she became a new thing. So she took to wearing lower waisted pants and black bras and tighter shirts, maybe releasing an extra button to show him the hollows above her collarbones, her sternum and her throat. She gave as good as she got.

As iron sharpens iron, as it says in that oldest of books, so one person sharpens another. That was what they did. They were two flinty bodies and mismatched minds grinding and colliding, sparking and sliding, until they were each honed to the finest edge. Which they then turned against any who dared come at them.

It was all for their work. He needed it for his reasons. She needed it for her own. She loved it. Her work was the one thing she was finally getting right.

Which was funny, because by any rubric she herself might have once applied, her career was orbiting in irreversible retrograde. The types benchmarks, promotions, and accolades she might once have sought after and craved were all but lost to her. To dutifully, dumbly climb those rungs was all she had known to do, before. Before she’d met him, before she’d been drawn in to his nebulous, hazy, imbroglio world. But there, in a place she once hadn’t ever dreamed of or dared believe in, she was thriving.

Her family didn’t understand, that she knew. Within the Bureau, she'd been written off. And the funny thing was, she didn’t care. He didn’t care either, and that was the beauty of him, the quality she’d found so perplexing and attractive when they’d met. Even when it pained her, the way he led with his chin.

These days at work she’d catch wind of some drabble of gossip, or be faced with another agent, driven by petty jealousy, ignorance, or worse, who’d dismiss and demean them, and it blew right by her. Not because she’d adopted his mindset, but because she knew now what he knew then: They were scared. And they were wrong.

What she and Mulder did, what he had taught her to do, the most important tool in their remarkable combined skillset, was to not know.

Instead, to listen. To people, to situations, to evidence. Instead, to ask questions, then better questions, then even better questions, and of the right people, no matter how impertinent. With him, she was willing to forget what she knew, and open to what was really happening. And then open some more. And it was terrifying. But she did it anyway.

Every day she watched cops and scientists and doctors close themselves off. Cleave to their comfortable stories that allowed them to keep it all together. But Mulder had helped her understand something she would have once claimed to know: science is not about certainty. In fact, it’s the lack of certainty that grounds it, and the most valuable journey a scientist could undertake is to find a way of unlearning how to think about something.

Their stalemate gifted her weekends to herself, and she, monkish, holed up with her books and papers from all corners of science and strived to make senses of some of what she’d seen, to at least find the gaps between the known and what she knew, to knit the worlds together. It engrossed her completely. She’d found compatriots in the realm of theoretical physics, guys she’d dismissed out of hand when she’d been piloting toward med school, and was in regular communication with several think tanks. These people devoured her and Mulder’s work, and were startingly close to beginning to explain some of what she’d seen. In fact, if Mulder was as determined to undo them as she feared, that would be her next move. Though the prospect grieved her.

She loved him. Of course she did, and had for some time, just for his eyes, God. And his loneliness. And his compassion. And his courage. And his mind alone was like candy to her. And in a lot of important ways he loved her back, and properly. So she accepted this stasis, leaned into it. Learned to love it. He was her ticket to this ride, with his bottomless mind and nose for the unfathomable, and it thrilled her on every possible level.

But he didn’t touch her. And she didn’t touch him. That was how this worked.

When, in the dead of night, after he’d broken this very important rule, the power had returned, she’d pulled on some clothes and stole into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth with jittery hands. She found her own eyes in the mirror, breathed into her belly and steadied.

“It’s fine,” she said to firmly to herself. She repeated it like a mantra as she prepared to emerge and dismiss him, send him back to his room. It’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine it’sfine.

When she felt good and girded, she slid into bed and settled herself. Smoothed the covers around her body and pivoted on her pillow to face him.

And then?

She doesn’t remember changing her mind. Just the feeling of her anxiety washing away. What was it she had been so worried about? It was Mulder one pillow over, feigning sleep. Just Mulder. Her dorky—albeit dashing—partner who used anagrams for pseudonyms, got seasick on ferries, and once asked her to autopsy an elephant. His ties were hopeless and half the time his socks didn’t match. Mulder.

She must admit, she’s not exactly crystal clear on how, a half hour later, she’d wound up stretched out on the bed next to him, shirtless. While he lay back on two pillows, his fingers laced behind his neck, eyes slivered to slits and raking over her body, his stiff cock in her hand, a revelation.

She loved how quiet he was in bed, his slow hands and his eyes on her, stalking her, strafing her, taking her in. She assumed he’d be as loquacious and frenetic in the sack as out of it. Not so. Mulder, surprising her again. If she had any inkling it would shut him up, she would have made a grab for his package years before.

As she worked his cock slowly with a twist of her wrist, she looked up his long brown body, his stomach undulating, his jaw clenched. And when her fist slipped over his head, he’d gasp. He reached down toward her. She thought he was going for her tits, as one would. Instead, being Mulder, he snagged her foot. Held it snug between his palms and brought it to his lips, kissed her instep, her arch. Nipped at the tips of her toes, hard enough to get her attention.

When she looked up, he captured her eyes with hers, locked her in like a tractor beam. A playful smile on his lips. She met his gaze and, held it, held it, held it... until it was too much. She blinked first, looked away.

He smiled bigger, hitched his hips and let his eyes drift shut. Closed his lips around her big toe and sucked. And some floor she’d not even realized she’d been standing on her whole life dropped out from under her.

Whoo-boy.

She was parched. She dried her face with a towel and crept back into the room. She opened the half fridge hoping for water, willing to pay the minibar markup, only to find it stocked with wine beer and soda. Chocolates and sports drinks. Blech.

Needing the real deal, the h2o, she pulled on a clean tee and some joggers, then paused. She didn’t want to rouse him, rooting around for her usual armor.

Because as the light rose in the room she could see he was well and truly out, not fake sleeping like before. Powered down, his breathing full and even, brainwaves oscillating slower and slower, La plus que lente, destination delta, lost to the world. Mulder. She was glad he was resting so deeply. He wasn’t easy to subdue. And they had, after all, kept each other up until the sky, so inky black, had turned perfectly blue.

Whoops.

As a kid she liked to imagine she’d captured a wild animal, a meerkat or panther or linx. In her pretend world she’d charm it and tame it and train it and feed it until it wanted to stay, then hide it in her room all day while she went to school. So when she got home they could play.

This was like that.

The motel was nearly deserted, and her plan was to score some cold clean water, slip back into the room, and catch a bit more sleep herself. Checking her wallet, the smallest bill she had was a ten. She folded it into her pocket, slid her keycard in beside it, and slipped out the door, making sure it shut softly behind her.

Outside, fresh air washed over her, sun bathed her face. Mulder had been spot on, the dank thick air had cleared out overnight. And the sky that had been clogged with low gray clouds for days was high and bright blue. She cased the parking lot out of habit; felt for her Glock at her back.

But she wouldn’t need it. Their rented taurus was now the lonely occupant of the sad parking lot, the lines cracked and faded, the asphalt once black baked and bleached to blue.

Everyone else had checked out and bugged out, she supposed, even the two who’d been up to no good in the next room the night before. All the better. She took a big gulp of air and steadied herself, set a course for the office to get some change.

The door was open, the little bell twinkling as she entered. But no one was manning the ship. She pressed the buzzer, stuffed her hands in her pockets, wandered over to the rack of pamphlets advertising local tourist traps. Mulder must have read every one when he came over here to scare her up some Advil, her hero for real, voracious as he is. God, Mulder. Maybe she would do something touristy with him. She eyed their options.

Wine tasting was the most adult activity. But all wrong for them. Mulder wasn’t a wine kinda guy, and she wasn’t all that curious about the fruits of the vineyards of central Florida.

She remembered Daniel raising up a glass of Burgandy or Shiraz and sniffing deeply, then offering it to her to do the same. He’d be holding forth over dinner on the finer points of wine. Or the history of photography. Or, most boringly of all, Jazz. She remembers feeling like she should learn to like these things, too. Making herself listen attentively, ask questions. And it shamed her, how she just wanted to catch a buzz and get him alone.

Mulder had never made her feel like that, not once, like she needed to try to be someone she wasn’t. They were peers, friends and foes, two kids struggling and scrapping in a sandbox, then coming together to build something intricate and fine.

Of all the touristy stuff, she found herself drawn to the go carts. Mulder’s gangly legs tucked into a little car, knees akimbo, his gaudy tie flying over his shoulder as he rounded a curve. Could be fun.

Then again, they should probably just head to the airport, let things normalize a little. Settle down. They’d passed up a half dozen chances to pump the brakes the night before, but it needed to be done. They had both agreed at some sober moment during the most interminable unlikely lovely complicated evening she’d ever spent with her partner, that they would need to reassess in the morning.

A man came into the office from the back door.

“Hello there. You must be room nine.”

“Yes,” she said. “Hello.”

“Sorry for the wait. My son’s home sick from school today. And my wife’s over in Sugarmill checking on her mom, after the storm. He’s only six so he needs some TLC. Double duty.”

“You didn’t leave him alone?”

“Oh no. My dad’s with him. They both love themselves some Spongebob.”

Scully smiled.

“How are you feeling, by the way, Miss? Your partner was concerned. Had me scare up some Advil.”

“Oh, that was you. Thank you for that. I’m fine, though.” “And your partner? He asked my wife about a doctor?” “He’s okay too. We’re both well. Thank you.” “Checking out?”

“No, actually,” Scully hadn’t even thought about calling the airport yet. They both needed badly to rest. “We’ll need the rooms one more night.”

“Very good. We’ll put you down for another night,” he said, taking a pencil to the tidy registry book in front of him. “Not like we’re busy. Storm scared away all the tourists. For a minute, at least. You two must be looking for those idiots who robbed the bank.”

Scully nodded.

“We appreciate what you do. If it wasn’t on the government, I’d comp your rooms. I don’t advertise it, but Elmer’s my cousin.”

“Really?” Scully said, shifting gears slightly. “Elmer Santiago Smith?” “Yep. Blacksheep to his bones. We’re good people, for the most part.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Scully said. She noticed the man for the first time really. Big guy with a tidy beard. Solid.

“I even gave him a job last year when he got out of prison. A-gain. Fixing things, sweeping up. That didn’t last long. He could work, Elmer, he’s always been great with cars. But work’s just never been his thing. He’s a lazy no account freeloader. But he’s harmless for the most part.”

This was true. He’d only been nabbed for bumbled burglaries, petty theft. Drug possession. “I don’t know the other guy.”

“Robert Bacon Blight,” Scully said. “He’s from Orlando. They met in prison. He’s much less harmless.” His rap sheet was more colorful: domestic violence, armed robbery, possession with intent, sexual assault.

“That’s Elmer,” he said, shaking his head. “Always falling in with the wrong crowd.” “Has anyone talked to you?” Scully said, perking up some more. “Mister?...”

“Smith. Bertram Smith. Bertie.”

“Do you have any idea where Elmer might be, Mr. Smith?”

“If I did I’da called y’all already. I doubt I’d be much help. Haven’t seen him since he quit.”

“All the same,” Scully said. “I’m going to get someone over here to interview you and your wife, in case anything comes to mind.”

“We’d be happy to help. Why not you though?”

“Oh, we’re off duty, Agent Mulder and I. We were down here on another case. Just helped out yesterday with the pursuit. We’re in a holding pattern until we can catch a flight back to DC.”

She felt a little self-conscious, now snapped back into professional mode but wearing a flimsy tank top, braless no less, and some joggers.

“Hey,” he said, peering closely at her. “You delivered that baby. I saw your picture on the news last night. They interviewed the mom. She seemed like a whack job, talking about a sea monster, of all things. Still,“ he said, shaking his head, “it was a sweet story.”

Scully nodded grimly. Oh no. The FBI was getting better at public relations. They wanted to take the focus off flubbing the bank robbery thing by pushing some human interest.

Now she had even more reasons to want to get out of Florida.

“They sure do keep y’all busy. Makes me feel a little better about that big Federal tax bite.”

“As I mentioned, we’re off duty. If you see Elmer and this other guy, Robert Bacon Blight, don’t confront them. Just call 911 and let us handle it.”

“Yes Ma’am. But I don’t expect to see him. On the news they said they were looking in Georgia. Makes sense. He’s got people there too. Anything else I can help you with?”

She flashed to Mulder asking her the same question the night before. Then shook it out of her head. “There is, actually,” Scully said. “I need change. For the vending machine.”

“Sure thing.”

He dished out ten ones and handed her back her ten spot.

She quirked her eyebrow at him.

“Drinks and snacks on the house for FBI agents who deliver babies and have to bother themselves looking for my dumbass cousin Elmer, besides,” he said, winking at her.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith. Bertie. I hope your son feels better.”

She was back out the door, and around the side of the motel, thinking only of water. She fed the limp dollars into the slot and bought three bottles, downed one of them on the spot. As she turned to head back to her room, a bottle in each hand, something caught her eye. A flash of chrome in the bright sun. It had come from a nearby abandoned barn.

She walked toward it, crossing the country road that ran behind the property and shielding her eyes, peering into the shaded structure.

She stepped inside. And there, behind a pile of stacked haybales, amidst the stifling air and dust, slatted with sunlight slashing through the crumbling roof, was a car.

An El Camino, to be exact. Red with a black racing stripe. The very same car that had spit gravel in her face the day before.

Bertie’s dumbass cousin Elmer had come home to roost.

They were here.

[aloysiavirgata]

The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Title:  The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG (language)

Timeline: Season 1

Summary:  Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor.

Author’s Notes:  Mulder reads Cicero and finds the method of loci tool useful in honing an eidetic memory. Also, the timeline of this show is absurd. Per canon, the Pilot is in March of 1992. But here it’s March of 1993 because...I just can’t, honestly. Thank you to @perplexistan for reminding me that I wrote this in 2013, and talking me through the timeline.

*** It's been a long December and there's reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself To hold on to these moments as they pass - Counting Crows *** It’s gritty outside, gritty and gray with a rime of salt on everything. There are pockets of rotten snow for him to kick, slushy and satisfying against his heavy shoes. He pulls his coat tighter, feeling like a hard-boiled detective in a pulp paperback, thinking this would be a good time for a cigarette if he still smoked. His divorce papers were filed this time last year, just like his parents’ had been a couple decades back. The ink had scarcely been dry on the marriage certificate when they realized they didn’t know each other and changed their minds. It was the same time Diana left him and his - their - files for whatever the fuck had summoned her across the sea. Paperwork, as ever in his life, was all that remained of these experiences. If this were really a detective story, he thinks, stepping over a soggy Washington Post, a tall cool blonde would have walked in through the frozen mist and into his arms. Someone lithe, with red lipstick and half-lidded violet eyes. She would look like Veronica Lake and speak in a low, compelling voice, urging him to do brave and outlandish things to thwart the Nazis. He’d wear a fedora, buy a mink stole for the blonde. They’d drink martinis and make love in dark hotels smelling of leather and intrigue. But he’s not living in a dime-store novel, he’s living in Alexandria on Christmas Eve 1993 (“The New Age of Angels,” claimed Time magazine, somewhat cryptically) and is eager to turn the last page in his calendar. Mulder knows it’s symbolic only, that his Eurocentrism is showing, but he still watches the ball drop on TV. Last year he’d kissed a woman in a bar and gone home with her too, but doesn’t think he’d remember her face if he saw it. He hasn’t got the energy to entice a stranger this year, and Scully’s hardly his type. He shouldn’t be sleeping with coworkers anyway, it’s never worth the trouble and the FBI is full of people who are paid to do nothing but sniff out secrets. Besides, he is now 32 years old which is really about time to start getting your shit together even if your baby sister was abducted by aliens at Thanksgiving. Mulder generally holds the holidays in low regard. He pauses to watch a small flock of cats at an upended trash can, feasting upon pungent things like battlefield ravens. One of the cats glances at him sidelong, narrowing round yellow eyes as though Mulder has designs on the gray thing it’s gnawing at. He holds his hands up to show the cats he wishes them no harm, keeps walking. Scully had offered to drive him home but he thanked her and caught the blue line, the clank and rattle of the train making him feel like some variety of normal businessman. Maybe people thought he was a banker or a Congressional staffer, going home to a twinkling Douglas fir and a mantle hung with stockings. Nine months and a broken condom can, in many circumstances, result in a whole new person. But it’s been nine months with Scully and she’s still her own woman, though Christ knows Mulder’s tried to remake her in his own image. She’s trudged alongside him through graveyards, military bases, bad diners, and one memorable night in Pennsylvania where she had captured a frantic bat in the hotel lobby. (“Do you want to wait for it to take human form before I release it?” she’d asked drily.) Through all of it she remained disbelieving and supercilious, leaving him vexed. She’d chirped “Merry Christmas, Mulder” at him, assuming that he celebrated Christmas and was capable of merriment. He was afraid Scully’d bring in a little Charlie Brown tree for the office, ornaments smooth and shining as her earnest face. She is skeptical in all the wrong ways and probably has the Michael Bolton Christmas album on her stereo at this very moment. She probably has eggnog in the fridge and will drink it without rum. She probably likes fruitcake and ham with pineapple rings on it. Mulder, going home to the shadows of his apartment where he might listen to Pink Floyd and nurse his resentment with three fingers of whiskey, feels justified in his scorn. A couple loaded with gifts pushes past him and he nearly loses his balance on a patch of black ice, clutches at a lamp post. He gazes up at the endless sky as snow begins to fall again. (Scully’s probably delighted by the prospect of a white Christmas, probably whistling a few bars of the song as she puts on a green sweater.) But he’s being unfair, isn’t he? For all her tattling back to the higher ups, she’s never tried to present herself as an angel. Her primary fault is in not being Diana, not being a tall dark moon goddess. Being pretty rather than beautiful, being frank rather than alluring. He’s seen her smoking a couple of times, discovered that she says “Jesus!” a lot so that she doesn’t say “fuck” or “shit.” This amuses him; he thought the blasphemy would be worse. He knows Scully watches what she eats but turns to carbohydrates and wine in times of stress. He found out she was sleeping with that asshole Jack Willis, which really threw him for a loop because Scully has a schoolteacherish quality that led him to presume premarital abstinence. He thinks of her in that first motel room, her smooth back beneath his hands, her panic turning on some masculine caveman switch. It’s been a long year, perhaps she could be his type after all despite her sensible underwear. She’s attractive enough if you like that sort of Hibernian look. He can tell she’s a bit awed by him and he could manipulate that to his advantage. Mulder walks the last slushy block thinking impious thoughts about Catholic school uniforms and playing doctor. The honeycomb tile of his building is muddied, layered with fragments of leaves and footprints. A radio blares something about Barbra Streisand doing her first live concert in twenty years. Mulder shakes his head and imagines his mother on the Vineyard, frothing with excitement. “Merry Christmas Agent Mulder,” says Leo, the maintenance guy. Leo’s got some kind of intellectual disability that Mulder hasn’t bothered to diagnose, but he’s always quick to replace a kicked-in lock or a shot-out window, and Mulder therefore regards him as a master craftsman. He gives Leo money every year at Christmas. At present he’s attacking the hallway sludge with an ancient mop. “Merry Christmas, Leo.” He gets his mail, sorting through it as he ambles to the elevator. Bill; bill; Playboy; Christmas cards from his doctor, dentist, and insurance agent; coupons; a thick manila envelope from the divorce attorney. Mulder rolls it all into a bundle and shoves it under his arm. He’s fumbling with his keys when the elevator deposits him on the fourth floor. There are wreaths on most of the doors in his building, a handful of mezuzas. Number 42, as usual, conforms to no given standard. He stops when he sees Scully leaning against his door. “Um,” he says. “Hey.” She waves her fingertips, looking uncomfortable. She’s holding a cardboard FedEx envelope. “I forgot to give you this before you left.” “Okay,” he says, uncertain about the idea of Scully on his turf. “Hang on a sec.” He makes sure the packet from the lawyer is hidden, though she’s probably heard the whole story. He knows what the talk is. They all act like he’s John fucking Douglas, like he can guess what number they’re thinking of based on how they part their hair. He’s a sideshow act, the guy who can think like John Roche and Monty Props. A freak. Scully turns to slouch against the wall while he jiggles the latest lock open, wishing there were a convenient place to stash a can of WD-40. “So, uh, come on in, I guess.” She turns, walks under his arm as he hold the door open, and stands in the entryway. The door clicks shut behind him, a final sound. Mulder puts his mail on the kitchen counter, tossing his coat over it. “You want anything to drink?” he calls to her, unsure if he can make good on the offer. What the hell does Scully drink? Tea? Zima? He’s got a few beers in the fridge, his wife’s wine is long finished. “No, I’m good.” Her coat’s draped over her arm when he comes back out, and he hangs it up for her. He notices that she’s wearing jeans with a navy cable-knit sweater, no tartan in sight. Her boots are dark and practical. Mulder shrugs off his jacket, loosens his tie out of its regulation noose. “Here, sit down. There’s, uh, the couch is right over there.” His couch is the atramentous green of algae, appearing black in the close room. “So what’s up?” She holds out the folder to him. “I realized I had this when I got home and since it’s a three day weekend, I wanted to make sure you had it. I thought it might be important.” Scully sits down close to the edge of the couch, much of her weight on her knees. She presses her hands together between them after Mulder takes the envelope, bouncing a little bit. He looks at the return address and groans. Arlinsky, that idiot from the Smithsonian. Mulder’s got enough credibility issues without this nutcase on his tail. He tosses the envelope on his cluttered desk for later perusal. Scully, as the messenger, looks apologetic. “Bad news?” He sits next to her, why not? “Nah, just…you know. The usual.” “Ah.” He watches her do a quick scan of his apartment. He has nothing to be ashamed of, she can look around. Mulder removes his tie completely now, untucks his shirt and leans into the corner of his couch. “So I’m surprised you’re here, Scully. I got the impression Christmas was a…thing. For your family.” He waves his hand vaguely, as though families are something he read about in a Margaret Mead article but never fully understood. Something closes in Scully’s face, which intrigues him. Discomfort usually comes with a good story, but he’ll tease it out of her later. She scratches her elbow, stalling. “I’m going to go by my parents’ house tomorrow.” “Not tonight? No big Scully celebration with stockings hung by the fire and cookies for Santa?” He has picked these ideas up from Oxford and Christmas music. Santa would probably prefer a cold longneck and some nachos. “My sister’s coming in tomorrow, she’s staying with my parents so they’re getting everything ready tonight. My younger brother and his family too, they’re getting in late.” Scully looks faintly guilty for this wealth of relatives. Which one of them are you avoiding, Dana? “Fun,” he says in a tone that he hopes is not sarcastic. Scully shrugs, picks at the cuff of her sweater. “Yeah, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see my niece and nephew. What about you? What are you doing?” “Oh, just…you know. Laying low.” He’s meeting up with the Gunmen for Chinese food and bootleg video games from some Japanese guy they know, but he’s not ready to tell Scully about them. In part because she might want to meet them and would end up charging Frohike with a sex crime. “Sounds good,” she says in a non-judgmental tone. “I could use some down time myself.” “Job wearing on you?” Going to wimp out and request a transfer? She puffs a breath of air out, pushes the tip of her tongue to her top lip. “No. Well, I mean, it’s hard. We travel so much, I didn’t do that before and it’s taking some adjustment.” Mulder drapes an arm over the back of the couch, wishing he could take his pants off and order a pizza. But he wants to know more about what drives her; Diana left him wary of unknown quantities, and this is his first opportunity to peer into Scully’s head. “Yeah, I guess they mostly shipped the cadavers to you before, huh? When you were doing doctor things?” He sees a slight narrowing of her eyes at this, the implication that she’s not a doctor now. The fact that she took it as an insult means it’s a vulnerability. “Mostly.” He decides to push it, being as he has home field advantage. “How come you decided to stop practicing medicine?” Scully sits up straight, her palms on the tops of her thighs. “I didn’t realize I had.” Prickly. “Oh, sorry, no offense. I just….you left your residency to join the FBI, right?” Faker, he knows her career trajectory down to the day. “My work as a Special Agent has always revolved around my background in forensic pathology. I just felt…called to the FBI as the place to best put those skills to use.” Called, religious imagery. Interesting. Her reply had a rehearsed sound, it’s something she’s repeated numerous times. Who gives her grief about being an FBI agent? A younger brother wouldn’t, would probably look up to that. Mom or Dad, most likely, though it could be one of the older siblings. He’d put his money on Dad or big brother based on the cold formality of her words. Both men are in the military, she’d speak to that. And big brother wasn’t mentioned as being in town, so Dad it is. He throws her a bone for revealing so much. “I’ve heard nothing but commendations.” “Thanks.” The appreciation seems genuine. “So what about you, Mulder? Why….this?” Scully holds her arms out like an orchestra conductor. The gesture encompasses his desk, the groaning bookshelves and fading newspaper clippings. Area 51, Reticulans, ectoplasm, and jackalopes. “Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible,” he quotes. “Feynman.” Scully knows her physicists. “It’s the perfect con, really. I figured out a way to get the federal government to pay for my hobbies.” He hopes that will satisfy her, but knows better. “Why is it your hobby?” Ah, Scully. You little investigator, you. “I’m a lousy knitter.” She smiles. “Because of your sister?” He steeples his fingertips, taps them against his chin. It’s tempting to blow her off, but he considers the implications of her presence. There was no reason to bring that letter by; she could have called and he could have told her to round-file it. She’s trying to build something between them, she’s looking past his annoyance with her assignment and he’s not going to slap her hand away on Christmas Eve. “Hold that thought,” he says. Mulder goes to the kitchen for the beers and the churchkey magnet stuck to the freezer. He checks for food, but a cursory examination reveals that Scully is going to have to make do with some brews. She’s peering into the fish tank when he returns, scrutinizing the inhabitants. “I think one of your mollies is pregnant,” she says. “That spotted one.” “Yeah, they’re prolific little cannibals. Here, Scully. Have a drink.” He holds the bottle out to her when she turns, watches her hesitate for an instant before accepting. “Thanks,” she says. “Though I probably shouldn’t.” She pops the lid off when he’s done with the opener. Takes a long drink. “So,” he says, returning to his seat on the couch. “Why do I spend my time looking for ET and yetis, right?” Scully rolls the bottle between her palms. “It’s hard for me to understand why someone with your abilities chooses to use those gifts this way.” Once she rides out this dogleg, Mulder thinks, she’ll go far in the Bureau with her careful diplomacy. “When my sister was…taken, it was the first time that none of the authority figures in my life had an answer. Not my parents, my teachers, the police…no one could tell me what had happened. Years went by and there was still no solution. People stopped thinking about it, you know? They just acted like she was gone and that’s all there was to it.” “But not you.” Her voice is gentle. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was a question with an answer, even if no one wanted to delve deeper into what that answer was. I became, well, obsessed with the idea that there were all of these mysteries out there with answers that people were uncomfortable finding. So when I found the X-Files…” He glances sidelong at his partner, her nutmeg freckles and her cinnamon hair. “Isn’t that what you were doing already, though? Solving impossible cases?” He shrugs. “They weren’t impossible. They followed a pattern if you knew what to look for. But what I do now, no one wants the answer, Scully. That’s the real challenge.” “You caught Monty Props. Props, Jesus, that case is legendary! I want to understand, I do. I see what you’re saying about the challenge, it does make a kind of sense. But when I think about the people you stopped…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t get it. But she’s trying instead of dismissing him. That’s something. “That’s just it. Your reaction, it’s…look. Serial killers, they’re sexy. The public loves them. Everyone wants to be Bill Patterson or, or… Jack Crawford, right? People still read about Jack the Ripper, they practically turn these psychopaths into folk heroes. There will never be a shortage of people wanting to do what I did.” Half the beer is gone in his next swallow. Scully looks thoughtful, her thumbnail at the damp corner of the label on her bottle. “So this is like, what? Like a martyr thing? If you walk away from the limelight for this then it makes up for never knowing what happened to your sister?” She turns her head to give him a level gaze, her eyes so blue and clear they seem artificial at times. He’s been called worse than a martyr, but somehow it stings. “Martyr? That’s condescending.” “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I just, I guess it’s hard for me to understand what you hope to gain. What all this means to you in the end.” Mulder’s had enough of her analysis. “I’m not like you, I don’t crave approval.” It’s her turn to look stung. “I didn’t mean to pry.” He sighs. “Your questions aren’t unfair. It’s been a hard year.” “I heard.” There’s sympathy in her tone and he tries not to resent it. “Listen, Scully, I know you didn’t ask for this assignment and you’re doing your best with a bad hand. It’s just hard to share a career I’m passionate about with someone who pretty clearly thinks it’s a waste of time.” Scully sets her beer on the coffee table, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands cupped around her chin. Mulder props his feet up next to her bottle, patient in the silence. There are deep shadows in the room, illuminated by the ambient streetlight through the curtains, the cool blue aquarium lamp. Puddles of light leak from the kitchen, but they barely stain the rug. Scully looks like a Hitchcock girl, white and pure, untouched by the surrounding gloom. She reminds him of Ingrid Bergman or Greta Garbo, her good bones and heavy-lidded eyes. “You know,” Scully says, muffled, “Pathology’s hardly the hottest specialty in med school. It’s not really seen as a place to make a career.” “The malpractice can’t be bad though, right?” She rolls her eyes. “You spend years of your life learning to care for the living and use it to examine the dead. People have…opinions about that.” This had not occurred to him, and he says as much. Scully sits up and settles back into the couch. “And to then take that to the FBI, well…” Full circle to the truth. “Lots of grief for that?” She shrugs. “From some more than others. My dad, he – look, Mulder. I’m not saying we’re in the same place or have the same ideas or that we’re both noble misunderstood renegades. I am not trying to oversimplify anything. I’m just telling you that I know what it’s like to care deeply about something that other people don’t necessarily understand.” She looks defensive after this, takes a fierce swig of her beer. Mulder eyes her up with a new appreciation. “I guess I just figured all doctors sit on pedestals.” “If so, some of the pedestals are much higher than others. I know you don’t like me, Mulder. Or at least you don’t like our partnership. We may never be friends, I realize that. But it’s been three quarters of a year, you have to let your guard down if we’re going to work together. I want what you want, answers to these questions.” He smiles at her. A real smile, and thinks that it’s been a long time since he’s done it. “But you still think I’m spooky.” Scully smiles back. “Absolutely. And I still don’t believe in aliens. Or yetis. Or missing time or vampires or Nessie. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe there are answers.” He scratches his chin, five o’clock shadow rough on his fingertips. Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor. “I did say I wanted a challenge.” “You did at that.” She returns her bottle to the table, then turns to face him. The aquarium provides a ghostly backlight, her hair gleaming like rubbed copper. He holds this image of Scully in his mind until it is indelible, then tucks it away to remember her by. The Rhetorica ad Herennium advises sensory encoding to aid in recall, and so he places her in the sunlit portrait gallery of his memory palace. Scully stands, crosses the room to take her coat from the rack. “I’m sorry the letter wasn’t good news.” Mulder gets up to join her. “It’s okay.” He squints when she opens the door, the hallway so bright it hurts his eyes. “Thanks for bringing it by.” “Okay, well, I’ll see you on Monday, I guess.” She seems hesitant to go. She probably feels sorry for him. “Thanks for the drink. And the company.” “Go,” he says. “You don’t want coal in your stocking for oversleeping tomorrow.” She laughs a little, then takes his hands in her small white ones. She gives them a squeeze. “This is going to be okay, Mulder.” He thinks she might be right, squeezes back. She lets go of him, walks out and turns right. He locks up behind her, her perfume still lingering on his side of the door. Diana’s not coming home. It’s time that he moved on.

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Ruined By Ransom

Ransom Drysdale x OFC Elizabeth Keller (face claim Kat Graham)

Warnings: Smut, dubcon, forced engagement

A/N: This was a request I got long ago and I’m sorry it literally took forever, but I had to scrap so many, because they were all crap and I didn’t want to just throw any ole thing out there for you!! I hope you enjoy!  Special thanks to @bluestarego​ for helping with the idea for the smut scene. I was just about ready to give up on this!

Word Count – 2,030

********

“You will marry her and that is final!” Harlan yelled at his eldest grandchild.

“For what reason, grandfather?” Ransom yelled back at him. “We have enough money, so I don’t understand why you’re forcing this to happen.”

“It is what’s best for this family and it’s time for you to pull your weight for once.”

“No—”

“You will marry Elizabeth Keller and you will remain faithful during this marriage or I will cut you out of the will. Do I make myself clear?”

It was a question, but he wasn’t expecting an answer. Harlan turned his back to Ransom and stared out of the window. He was done talking to him.

Ransom grabbed his coat and stormed out of the study. His grandfather couldn’t force him to get married, especially not to a woman he despised.

Elizabeth Keller came from a prominent family; generations of doctors and lawyers. She dripped privilege, as if he didn’t, but Ransom still couldn’t stand her. He hated the fact that his grandfather was holding this entire arranged marriage over his head.

He fished his phone from his pocket when he felt it vibrate. A text from the woman he was just in a heated discussion about reminding him not to be late to their engagement party tomorrow night.

Ransom understood the joining of the two families would set them all for life, but he didn’t understand why he had to be the pawn. Elizabeth could’ve married his mother for all he cared, just anyone but him.

He headed home. He had to do something to stop this union, he wasn’t ready to be pinned down in a relationship. Not yet.

********

The Thrombey’s all arrived to the Keller estate together. Well, everyone except Ransom. Linda was angry that her son would pull such a stunt, but not surprised. She knew that he didn’t want to get married, but she also felt that it was time for him to settle down. This marriage would unite two very powerful families and for once, he should stop being selfish and think of the bigger picture.

Elizabeth greeted the family. She looked a little disappointed when she didn’t see Ransom, but she quickly put her game face on and mingled. She didn’t want to be married any more than he did, but he didn’t have to embarrass her every chance he got.

“Hello, Elizabeth, sweetheart, how are you? You look beautiful,” Linda kissed each of her cheeks.

“Thank you, Mrs. Drysdale and you can call me Liz,” she said.

“Oh don’t be so formal, call me Linda.”

After everyone filed in with introductions, the two groups quickly integrated. Linda and Elizabeth’s mother, Diana, talked about the wedding. Harlan and Joseph, her father, talked business as usual.

An hour later Ransom finally walked into the house. Everyone halted their conversations and looked in his direction. Elizabeth never moved from her spot, she just watched as he scanned the room and finally his eyes rested on her. Her heart rate quickened as he walked towards her.

The fabric of his gray slacks hugged his thighs and the material of the blue sweater he donned stretched across his pecs. She may not have wanted to marry the pompous jerk, but she couldn’t deny how sexy he was. Her current arousal wouldn’t allow it even if she’d tried.

Linda stepped in front of him interrupting his advance. He stopped and stared at the scowl on his mother’s face before moving around her.

“You’re late,” Liz said once he reached her. Chin held high and her breaths were even. She was as cool as a cucumber and he could not rattle her no matter how intimidating he tried to be… At least, that’s the way she made it seem.

“We need to talk.”

“Ransom,” Linda said in a warning tone.

“It’s alright, Linda, I’m sure it’s just an explanation for why he was late to our engagement party.” She turned to lead him out of the room.

Ransom followed her all the way out to the garage. He watched her hips sway in the tight black dress she wore as she turned to face him. He just looked at her. His large body towering over her delicate frame.

“Call off the wedding,” he demanded.

“I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will. You don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you. Call it off.”

“No.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I saw an opportunity and I took it. I don’t care who you deal with or what you do. This is business and nothing more.” She shrugged as she leaned on one of the many cars in the garage.

“I hate you and if you continue to push for this, I will fucking ruin you.” He stepped closer to her.

She smiled to mask the little bit of fear she felt and pushed on his chest to make him back away. He did not move. He smirked at her when she tried to push harder.

“Move,” she tried to maneuver around him, but he put one hand on the car and the other around her throat.

His jaw clenched as the blue of his gaze changed into a sea of darkness.

“Ransom…” her voice shook. He smiled down at her, she was finally cracking. The veil of confidence she normally wore was being pulled back before his eyes. “Get off of me.”

“I don’t think so. I tried asking nicely and you refused, so I think I’ll start ruining your life right now.” He tightened his grip on her throat and moved his hand from the car and snaked it down the front of her dress.

He pushed up the hem and ran his fingers across the top of her lace panties. He kicked her legs apart and palmed her mound.

“Ooh, what do we have here?” He moved his fingers around in a circle, “Your cunt is already soaking wet. Figures.”

“Stop it,” she pushed against him once more. The attempt failed yet again.

“Get ready, because this is what life will be like. I will fuck you where I want, when I want.” He slipped a finger inside of her and worked it in and out quickly.

Her eyes shut and a moan escaped her lips.

“You like this?”

“No.”

“You’re a bad liar,” he slapped her face and turned her around. He hooked his fingers into the lace and ripped it open. “Ooh,” he could be heard as he admired her ass.

He pushed her legs apart once again and this time slid two fingers inside of her.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she squealed as she felt her climax approaching.

Ransom pulled his fingers from her and slapped her ass. He turned her back towards him and squeezed her cheeks together.

“Open,” he said, “now suck it off.”

Liz closed her lips around his fingers and followed his command. She never broke eye contact and that mad his dick rock hard. He let go of her face and pulled on the car door handle. Smiling when it opened.

He pulled her around the door and pushed her into the back seat. He kneeled down in front of her and eyed her wet pussy.

“Well, are you just going to stare at it?” She asked him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he smacked her pussy hard.

“Ah!” She yelped at the sudden blow. But she didn’t sound hurt, she really was enjoying it. That both turned him on and pissed him off.

Ransom sucked her clit into his mouth. He couldn’t resist tasting her after seeing her face when she sucked on his fingers. The way her brown eyes rolled to the back of her head as her tongue lapped at he slick on his fingers. Now, he lapped at her nub. Sensitive and shivering.

Liz rolled her hips into him.

“Mm, you’re not as much of a prude as I thought you were,” he said and continued to lick her.

His words snapped her back to reality. She pulled herself back away from him and turned to open the other door. Before she could get a good enough grip on the handle, she was being pulled back.

“Get off of me, Ransom!” She kicked her feet at him.

“Keep fighting. It’s only turning me on even more.”

He pulled his erected member from his slacks. He turned her back around and put his hand back on to her throat.

“Call off the wedding,” he said to her again.

“No!” She refused once more.

Ransom drove himself into her hard and deep. Choking her enough, so that her screams were suppressed.

“Fine, then I will fuck the stuck up bitch right out of you.”

Ransom looked down at her. He couldn’t stand her, but he couldn’t deny her beauty either. He marveled at her smooth brown skin. The way it glowed beneath the dim light in the car. Her pouty lips that were painted red for the night. He leaned in and attached his lips to hers. Delivering a sloppy kiss to purposely ruin her makeup.

Elizabeth moaned into his kiss. She reveled in the feel of him stretching her needy cunt. Sucking his tongue as he darted it in her mouth.

She reached up and yanked on his hair to pull his head back.

“You call this a hate fuck? Pathetic.” She taunted.

He growled and pulled out of her. He plucked her from the back seat and forced her to her knees.

“That’s your problem, princess,” he said before pinching her nose shut and smacking her lips with his heavy cock coated in her nectar. “Nobody has ever had the balls to shut you up.”

He waited for her to open her mouth for air and shoved his cock inside, immediately hitting the back of her throat. She gagged and pushed against him, but he held her in place until he finally felt like she’d had enough.

She gasped for air when he pulled back and tried to stand, but he pushed her back down.

“Ah, ah, open up,” he tapped her jaw. She opened her mouth and he slid inside a little slower this time. “Ooh, maybe I can get used to this. The way you look with my big dick in your mouth. Those pretty brown eyes looking up at me like that.”

He threw his head back. He was experiencing sheer ecstasy. But he had to pull out otherwise he would have cum right then and there.

He let her up and pushed her against the car lifting her, so that her legs were around his waist. He brought her down onto him. Slowly gliding inside until she sheathed him completely.

Ransom fucked her with no remorse and Liz held on for the ride. The car shook with every thrust. Their naked flesh slapped together and echoed throughout the room.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She sang.

“You’d better not fucking cum. Beg for it. Beg me to let you cum all over my dick.”

“Ransom —”

“I said fucking beg!” He pulled out and turned her over. Bending her over the car and thrusting into her again.

“Fuck! Please, can I cum? Please?” She panted.

“Again,” he smacked her ass.

“Please, Ransom! Please let me cum all over your dick?”

“No,” he said and with one final thrust he released inside of her. He was sure to hold her still, so she wouldn’t continue to be stimulated.

He took a few moments to catch his breath before pulling out of her.

“What the fuck was that?” She yelled.

“That,” he began as he tucked himself back into his pants, “is exactly what you’ll experience for the rest of your life if you don’t agree to call this off. Me fucking you so good and denying you orgasm after orgasm until it drives you crazy.”

He turned to leave without another word.

Still not one to back down, Liz waited until he reached the door to say, “Looking forward to it, honey.”

Ransom stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t help but chuckle before leaving his fiancée standing in the middle of the garage with ripped panties and a pussy full of his cum.

[bigmafluff]

Unreal Love Story “Henry Cavill” chapters 1-3

Sequel To My Story “Tom Hiddleston”

Summery

“ Tom Dear ! She is gone!” His mother says when her son barges thru her front door. Diana Hands a sobbing Charlie to His Stunned father Leading  them into the house to a computer sitting @ her kitchen table with a flash drive in it.    Just as Tom is about to say something . His Mom hush's them both and starts the video.   I start with calming Charlie through the computer.  “ Hello Little one . I'm am sorry I have to leave you so. But You are a strong young man . Sometimes even stronger than your father at times. Just know that I love you dear one and will always be your special friend . Now dry those tears and Go see Nanna . So Your dad and I can talk.” I said to Charlie thru the computer. Tom Knew after that our relationship was over maybe had been over for a while.

Chapter 1 

Numbness,& NASCAR

I couldn't Stay in London. It hurt too much all I saw was pain. I couldn't go home yet still felt like I failed myself some how so home wouldn't work. So I numbed myself out in Cali.   I did what I swore I wouldn't. I went full Party Girl. Between the parties ,clubs, Bars I was wasted most of the time.  But I knew that being In Love Like this before then Losing love has it's down side . Tom and I had been it for 3 years. But towards the end I was more His son's nanny than his girlfriend . Most of his friends warned me this was one sided . He never got over Sophia Di Marino ,Charlie's Mom. The split was Mutual. I'm Not mad to be truthful. Annoyed really that I let it go on this long ..

So California I went , to numb the hurt. I don't give a rat's ass what they say about better to have Loved crap ! It still hurt's dammit!  So Party Shannon I became. I still wrote my stories without impairment. By day I was the mildly hungover writer coffee in hand . Luca was still Daydreaming so I was still writing. But @ night Let's just say in the great words of Bill & Ted .” Party on Dudes” So I did. Shaking my ass Beer in hand in a club in south beach !  Rockin' out to Pink. I am vaguely aware I am Jamming with a rather large Englishmen Go Figure ! He has a familiar tone I can't place ,frankly all I see is curls ,beard & muscle , Cause I'm too drunk and don't care but he was hot and can grind Like no other. But even though I was no lady ,he was a gentleman And at the end of the night I was in my Hotel room clothes and dignity intact.

Woke the next morning with another hangover that I never use to get when I was younger. They still Suck! UGH! I'm about to start typing when I get a feed from TMZ. “TWH PROPOSES TO SDM!” I switch on my TV and sure enough The rock on her finger is massive and Charlie Looks so Happy .   The numbness lifts along with the pain . I can see the sun again so I finally pack my stuff .

But not for England . I head home. I decide I need time with my son . So Arkansas, Hot Springs that is.  Although when I get there I find out my son is in Florida . In Daytona Beach. At the Racetrack!  My nephew Christian and his wife Kiki took Lucas to a NASCAR race and Somehow Lucas Landed a job as head mechanic for Carlos Contreras's race team. Shocked as I was,  I get on a flight to Florida it is a good shocked but WOW.  I got a Hotel room and then went to the track . Took me a little convincing to get in  . Security walked me to the Pit where I found my baby boy covered in grease. Under a car . When Lucas jumped up and hugged me they left us alone . test moment's in a parent's life is seeing your child seceded at something he loves. This was Lucas's dream !Like writing is for me. It was his turn. Lucas Introduced me to Carlos with sparkles in his eyes . Carlos seemed to Like what My  Son does. Even tells me that Because of my Boy, Carlos has won 8 races. How more proud can I get I am in tears.  While I was here I went to a few races and Lucas and I raided the theme parks. Then one night Lucas had a grown up moment and told me I had to go back to the U.K.. He said I write my best stuff there and I need to make peace with Myself. How did my Autistic Son get so smart. Then he tells me. He is a big Guy now and He didn't need his Mom to hover.

Chapter 2

Something New

So once I'm back in London. I dust off My flat that Luke made sure I got despite me moving in with Tom. Besides writing, a few friend's gave me the intro to the London night life and I found a outlet to unwind . But I didn't drown myself like in Cali. But I still maintained my Party Mama status. Also I am exercising regularly, to compensate for the Night life . But I found that I have way's now that I am Back to make exercising fun. I do the Gym of course. But I also like rollerskating in Hyde or St. James park, when it's sunny. I found a Ice Skating rink that is 7 day's a week.  And there is a indoor pool at the Gym I go to. .

But I realized some things while I was home in the states. I can't ever forget where I came from . So I pay it forward to 4 special organizations for charity and I never write them off my taxes . I went back to church I actually found a Nazarene church in the U.K. Honestly Church is what keeps me semi sober in the clubs on Friday and Saturday. No hangovers in Gods house .So I have been busy. By maintaining the order of my life like I did way before when My soul purpose was being a MOM. God, Family Friends career is a new addition but not that high on the list.  

I found a way to keep myself going .My heart has even healed to a point and I am actually making good friends with “ The Hiddleston “ I can't even comprehend The fact that Sophia took Tom's name . I didn't think her agent's would let her do that. Any how I Am officially Aunty Shannon to Charlie and he even still talks to Lucas and they talk cars regularly according to Tom. As for right now though I'm actually doing more than writing I am at The Harold Pinter theater in London as a Producer and assistant to Kenneth Branaugh the director of a play Based on one of my fan fiction stories .  It's a Vampire Love story with a family twist.  No Not Twilight no blood sucking fairies here. But what has me excited is the cast . Tom is in it along a whole bunch of my fave idol's Including Henry Cavill as the male lead. . OK! I fibbed Kenny doesn't need me the whole time so I am writing when I am not teaching Charlie Who is acting for the first time. Tom is One Proud Papa! I will tell you what. And Charlie Looks like he is having a wonderful time despite playing a Girl demon!

also I do have a little Mystery of my own I am trying to solve. Every morning when I get to work. Yes I'm getting paid for this production. I go to my seat and drink my coffee but I find a different colored long stem lily in the seat . I asked Tom. If Charlie was doing it and I even ask Ken. None said It was them. Both even offered to investigate with me . Saying they have a little experience because they played P.I.'s

I was actually flattered I had an admirer. I just hope I won't regret taking the Lily more seriously. Anyway The play is gearing up for opening night I called Lucas's aide Reed to Se if He will be able to be in London for my Play . Which If it does well it will head to the States and go on Broadway.  Now tell me if that ain't totally awesome. I.K.R.  We as far as my Book's are concerned Luca start's Middle School. So Social interaction and puberty mixes in with his amazing world which should make for a wild ride for our readers. My honorary nephew is even reading them which make's my heart sing  Oh! So I don't leave it out my lily was Aquamarine and silk today not real but it had a pink bow and it sparkled . He-he! Who ever this is knows I like things that sparkle. It makes me giddy.

Opening Night!!!!

My Lucas is here . Looking Just Like he did Prom Night When he took my god daughter to the prom. My boy is So handsome. Lucas has been working out so My lucas is Tall and Jacked thanks to His Buddy Phillip Hull. We get to ride in a Limo It will be Lucas's first time in one. Me! I'm In all Red  Long red hair with a touch of gray at the temple and proud of it. A Long Jessica rabbit dress that sparkles in the light. Red flat's I ain't that crazy . It's gonna be a long night and I am in my 50's   Heels are not in the program. I had red cloves and a red silk Shaw. I felt amazing and all my boy could say is Wow mama Look Pretty! LOL! I am also excited not only for the play but according to the Little note I got with My Red Rose that was sitting in my seat on the last day of practice. I get to meet my admirer tonight too

So Lucas and I are off Lucas is Like a school boy Looking around and he is also a little nervous. I can tell he Keeps Playing with his collar and tie. I made sure Luke had a pair of ear buds and his fave music in a MP3. And sunglasses to help with Lucas's experience. Plus so he doesn't have to deal with the red carpet stuff Reed is here so Lucas will be with me only for a few pictures then Reed  will take him inside while I deal with the popularity this sold out play has caused . New York here we come!!!!!!

  Lucas went inside as planned. And Luke is by my side in his place as my escort. Luke felt I shouldn't be alone. Because of the split and Tom's marriage. Even though Tom and I are cool talking about and he is even here with Taylor so I'm cool. I was having lot's of fun taking little interview's and pictures and such. Luke always said I was surprisingly  easy going in the lime light and it shows tonight. `Sophia , Ken and I had some fun with the photo people and Kissed Each side of Tom's cheeks while he was trying to pic up Kenneth, then we Bent down to Kiss Ken's cheeks when Tom dropped him on his butt ,our booties where purposely in the air.  Let's Just say we made Kenny's night! I was all in good fun  Tom told me that Charlie was inside with new Hot wheels car's to show Lucas cause they are NASCAR ones.

Finishing up the pictures and fixing to go inside I was about to give up hope on there being an admirer. When I went to take one last. Picture, Henry Cavill came to Join me in the picture and whispered in my ear to Look down, as he grabbed my waist for the picture . I did. And their was a pink Lily and a white rose in his hand tied in a pink bow. Let's Just say that pic had my mouth hanging open and Henry laughing as we went in to the theater.  Let the new dance begin.

Lois Lane never Got Superman this way Ha! 

Chapter 3

Don't jump! One moment @ a Time.

As far as the play went it was as major success. I couldn't pay attention at all . I was staring at Henry the whole time In awe of all of this.As far as I was concerned it was like I had never tasted this before . I won't lie, it scares the shit out of me .  I was a ball of nerves the whole play . It was Thomas all over again. @ least that was what I thought. Until Henry asked if I would sign a book for is Nephews Daughter who has Down syndrome. I was politely surprised . He then introduced himself to my Son. Which Lucas can recognize any actor who has ever played a Superhero or villain . Henry was one of our faves. He asked if we wanted to grab a bite to eat . Lucas always could eat. Even in his 30's endless Belly! Can you see 3 adult's in fancy dress in Mc. Donald's. I Loved it Because Henry took the liberty to date Lucas first. To me that Mc. Donald's was 5 stars. The Limo dropped 2 very full and sleepy men at My son's Hotel.  I was sparkling in happiness. We pulled up in front of my flat but Henry wouldn't let me out yet. I think he wants to talk . So naturally I listened. 

fore I could even say anything He Quieted me and held my hand .  Baby Blues connected. Then he spoke. “ Shannon I know what you went through with Hiddleston. I grilled him after meeting you . Actually I'm kinda surprised he didn't rat me out. Story for another time. Now that you understand my intent. I want time. Time to know you. Also before you get nervous, will it help If I got permission from Lucas to date you and Charlie Hiddleston second's the permission. I'm normally a prideful Man But Shannon something inside Tell's me I am supposed to started something new with You. I want get to know you Date you proper. If anything let's see where it goes. Even if we don't connect more personally . We can at least catch a grind to a tune and groove like buddies”.

My breath hitch because I just realize that dude I was grinding with in California at that club. The English Dude. That was Henry!!!!! He notices my blush and Shakes his head showing me the bracelet. I smack his shoulder Laughing my Blush off. Then I told him I am willing to try and if all else fails Partying in New York won't get boring . Then he kissed my Palm and let me out . I gave him my # and told him to give me a call when he was ready to try. The Limo waited till I was Inside. But instead of Leaving The door opened and Henry came running up to me . Grabbed my waist, pulled me close and Kissed me.  We exploded!!!!

Hand in Hand at JFK airport Henry and I go straight to the Hotel .  No Not for that .  We came early so Henry  could as he says Court me proper. LOL!   There is nothing I'd rather do the then run all over NYC for the first time with Henry. I have jumped in fully no comparing to any other love . This is true Eros and I'm going with the flow. That was our agreement for each  other  the next morning after the Play. To Just Love & enjoy till the fluffy lady quits singing.

I exploded because of SuperMan!

{None of this story is real the pic are from Googles images !!!!!!!!!!!!}

[peachyydesires]

Female bartender x Keiji Shinogi? I feel like it’d be so cute 🥺

The Bar (Keiji x Reader) 

a/n: aaa this is so late! sorry anon, my wifi was out all day yesterday and i never got the chance to post this! i made it a little longer than my usual fics, and i agree this was definitely a cute pairing and i enjoyed writing it a lot!! thank you for being my first request too! also, to the other request in my box, don’t worry, i’m getting started on part 2 right now 😉

summary: at the local bar you work at, keiji walks in and ends up staying at the bar until closing time.

   You weren’t exactly expecting to meet your soulmate at the local bar you worked every night at. Hell, you weren’t even expecting to meet an appealing guy there out of all the disgusting, foul alcoholics that you merely considered ‘regulars’. 

   Until he walked in.

   It was just like any other night at the bar; it was slow-paced at first, with a few lonely middle-aged men and women alike slowly beginning to crowd into the bar once it opened. You usually sat in the breakroom during this time, especially since your coworkers would force you to handle the rush hours by yourself while they hid in the backroom for an hour or two. But this time, out of all the days they could be sick on, one of your coworkers was out on a Friday night. This meant that only you and your other faculty member, Diana, would be on service that entire night. 

   This is going to be a long-ass night. You thought as you silently finished polishing up the counter. The first few people in the bar would usually be out before the chaos started, so there wasn’t much to do while you waited for the night to truly begin.

   A few hours passed by, and you could’ve sworn that service was lighter than usual. Diana was the bar’s pride and joy, and for some reason she actually enjoyed making drinks; the mental pain of memorizing ingredients, recipes, and faces was always something you were forced to deal with, especially on a loud day like this. 

   But luckily, Diana was taking care of almost everything; she was a blur behind the counter, grabbing glasses and bottles of alcohol at the same time only to put them away as fast as she had grabbed them. You couldn’t tell whether she was trying to do fancy tricks or not, but at one point she balanced an open bottle of beer on her head as the rest of the bar cheered.

   You smiled, shaking your head as you wandered over to the corner of the bar, away from the crowd and your coworker. Diana had always been a crowd pleaser, but you couldn’t blame her with all the extra tips she earned from it. With nothing else to do, you propped your elbow up on the counter and began aimlessly daydreaming. Your expression was completely blank as you stared at the entrance to the bar, not fully paying attention until another pair of eyes locked on your’s.

   You immediately snapped out of your trance and watched the new man walk into the bar. He had messy, dyed blonde hair and a tired yet laid back look in his eyes. He was definitely taller than you, and you couldn’t help but stare at his arm muscles for longer than you should have. 

   You automatically nodded at him and smiled, and your heart swooned as soon as he smiled back. You scolded yourself in your head once you noticed this; it was only routine for bartenders to nod at anyone who entered the bar, but you couldn’t help but hope that this time would be different.

   Half-expecting him to immediately head for Diana, you turned around and began reorganizing the glasses behind the counter. It wasn’t until he was leaning up against the other side and he cleared his throat that you finally noticed him. 

   Well, it wasn’t exactly an ideal situation. 

   You jumped with an empty glass in your hand, not expecting to hear a voice other than Diana’s so close to your side from out of nowhere. You spun around to face him, your cheeks dusted with a light fairy pink. But you were too sudden with your movements and the glass slipped out of your hand, falling quickly towards the ground until you managed to catch it at the last second. 

   Slowly standing back up, you let out a small huff as you placed the glass back on the counter and faced the new man, who was now sitting on one of the stools and had a wide, amused smirk spread out on his face.

   “Sorry for scaring ya’, cutie.” He apologized flirtatiously, his drained expression brightening as he watched you carefully.

    You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you spoke, “I haven’t seen you around here before. Just moved in?”

   He shook his head, mirroring your smile as he spoke, “You must not get into trouble too much, huh? I’m a cop, but I guess you could say this is my first time here.”

   “You’re very bold for flirting with the bartender then, detective. What can I get ya?” 

   “Hmm, I’ll take a shot of whiskey, your choice.” 

   “Can you hold your liquor?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. You couldn’t tell whether he was just being arrogant or if he was serious; your version of a weak shot could be a hard knockout for him. 

   But it was that teasing smile that got you in the end as he nodded, his tired eyes focused on you and only you; you just couldn’t put your finger on what it was about him that made your heart swoon so far. You turned around, your cheeks flushing red as you quickly grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the shelf along with a shot glass. You weren’t sure how long he would be there, despite your hopes, so you chose a well-known yet mild brand. 

   Pretending to take a long time to pour the ‘heavy’ whiskey bottle, you took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm the fire raging in your cheeks. You had never gotten this flustered before over a customer- maybe once or twice, in order to milk a good tip, but this time was different. 

   You finally turned around and set down the shot in front of him. His gaze hadn’t fazed at all; he was still staring right ahead, watching your every movement. You took a second to glance at Diana, who was still doing her signature bar tricks. Why is he even over here? Maybe he just doesn’t like the crowd? Or he wants to get drunk as soon as possible so he can leave-

   “You’re wondering why I’m not over there, aren’t ya?” His voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts, and you snapped your head back to look over at him in shock. He had the same lazy smile spread on his face as he studied your reaction. You sputtered for words, unable to talk as he went on, “You seemed interesting, less...Showy like your coworker over there. Plus, you learn something over the years as an officer.” 

   He winked at you, then looked down at the shot. You had forgotten about your job and responsibilities for a hot second, and it took you a moment to regain your words before you asked, “Cash or tab?”

   “Mmm, tab. I trust you enough to give me back my card.” He teased as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his debit card, handing it directly to you in exchange for the shot. As he downed it, you swiped it. 

   “I’m guessing that’s the last I’ll see you tonight then?” You asked, casually leaning back on the cabinets behind you. 

   He shook his head, a careless grin on his face, “Of course not. I guess I’m just not a real big party guy, much like you.” He nodded at Diana, only there wasn’t an ounce of malice in his expression as he was merely joking around. 

   You shook your head, an uncontrollable smile staying glued to your face as you rolled your eyes playfully, “I guess you’re going to have to be my top priority then, huh? You better give me a good tip.” You teased, unconsciously twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

   “I think I’m pretty high maintenance,” He joked, “Are you sure you can handle me, little lady?” 

   “Of course.” 

   The night went by in a blur. You soon learned that his name was Keiji Shinogi, and the entire night was spent talking and serving him. He was a rather simple guy; he didn’t really order any flashy drinks, and his menu seemed to only consist of shots, gin and tonics, and margaritas. 

   Not too many people ended up coming into the bar that night. Most beelined for Diana, while the others only came to you for a quick shot or two before leaving. It wasn’t until a drunk, creepy middle-aged man came up to the bar that your conversation with Keiji was interrupted.

   You saw him from the corner of your eye at first; he had been lingering in the corner, away from Diana’s view with his gaze locked on you. You were beginning to sweat a little- while Keiji’s company was comforting, the other man just radiated trouble. 

   Most guys at bars were like this. Spine-chilling, usually balding, and just a general eerie aura they gave off that always put you off, especially when you were serving them.

   Keiji seemed to have noticed this. He could see your shoulders visibly tensing up and you began to get quieter. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were beginning to anxiously play with your fingers. Your eyes would wander away from him more and more, cautiously watching the other, middle-aged man as he sat there on the stool like a puppy dog begging for your attention. 

   “Are you-” He started, but was soon cut off as the ominous man came up to the bar, waving around his card with a toothy grin on his face. He reeked of alcohol, and his tangled, graying hair was matted all over his egg-shaped head. “Ey’ preetty laady, ca..care for me t..to buy you a drank?” The man slurred, nearly hunching over the counter. He was carrying a mostly empty beer bottle in his hand, and there seemed to be fading bruises on his knuckles. His clothes were more worn for wear, and dirt filled the space underneath his lengthy fingernails. 

   You gulped, glancing over at Keiji for a moment before immediately turning your attention on the new man. You cleared your throat, and attempted to politely shake your head to his request as you responded, “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s against policy.” 

   “Wha...What? A gen-gentle man trying to buuuy a laaady a drink? What’sss so wrong about th-that?” The man’s look switched between three expressions: arrogance, confusion, and anger. 

   It was the anger that really scared you. The bar often got people like this, but every situation was just as dangerous as the last. Usually you had security to kick them out, but as you frantically searched the room with your eyes, you couldn’t find the team anywhere.

   Little did you know that your security was actually sitting right in front of you.

   Shifting your weight anxiously, your fingers still fiddled behind the counter as you tried to think of a calm response. With your attention focused on the man, you didn’t notice as Keiji leaned over the counter and looked at your hand movements. He could already tell you were extremely uncomfortable, and he had had about the final straw with him.

   “Welll? Are..Aren’t you going to saa-” 

   “Leave.”

   A hush fell around the corner of the bar as you sharply looked over at Keiji. What in the world is he doing? You thought as he suddenly stood up, soon towering over the skinny, middle-aged man. He obviously looked scared as he refused to make eye contact with him, but the overpowering alcohol in his system was only fueling his confidence. 

   “W..Why should I beee..Be the one t-to leave, eh tough g...guy? I did nun’ wroong!” He clenched his fist and waved it around threateningly, but Keiji seemed rather unfazed. In one swift movement, he had pulled out his ID badge and was showing it to the man.

   “You’re clearly bothering her, can’t you tell? She already declined your offer and informed you that it’s against policy for you to buy her a drink, so just leave her alone, ya hear me?” He paused, eyeing the man up and down before continuing, “Tell me, did you drive here yourself?”

   The man let out a rather obnoxious snort, “Offf course I..I did! R-Right out therrreee, that’s me car o..over there!” He pointed proudly at an old, muffed up car parked crookedly in front of the bar. 

   Keiji didn’t even turn around to look at the parking lot as he continued, “Considering you haven’t ordered any drinks here yet, you must have been driving while you were intoxicated. I can arrest you for that, and you’re clearly the odd one out here as they’ll take our word over yours.” He nodded over at you for a quick second, but his attention was completely focused on the threat in the room. 

   The man looked practically ready to explode. His pale, wrinkly skin was beet red and his nose was scrunched up like a warthog. His dirty fingernails were digging deeper and deeper into the skin of the palm of his hand as he was at a loss for words. 

   He eventually gave up, but before he could walk out the door he turned around and flipped the two of you off. “Ug...Ugly bitch! Y-You’re nothing but a..a greedy wh-whore in myyy eyes, no...no matter w-what that stu...stupid fake po-police officer saaays!” 

   You shook your head, biting back a response as the man stormed out of the bar. You took a moment to glance at Keiji, but he definitely wasn’t looking too happy. His jaw was locked, and his eyes were unfocused and glued to the door. His entire body was rigid, and the muscles beneath his shirt were straining against the fabric as he didn’t move a single inch.

   You could sense the anger practically pouring off of him, but you knew it wasn’t nearly as explosive as the other man’s temper. You cautiously rested your hand on his arm, the pads of your fingers pressing lightly into his skin. The touch immediately snapped him out of his murderous trance as he tore his gaze away from the door and redirected his attention back to you.

   “Hey, it’s okay. He’s not worth it anyways,” You gave him a weak smile as you looked up at him, and the stone-cold expression on his face practically melted into a more relaxed one almost immediately.

   “You’re right. Now, where were we, hm?” He asked, sitting back down on the stool and letting his natural, laidback smile reappear on his face as he locked eyes with you. Your worries evaporated into thin air, and you smiled back at him with the same carefree expression he seemed to (almost) always have. 

   The hours went by slower and slower as the clock neared closing time, which was well around 4 AM. You had been bracing yourself for when he would have to get up and leave, and you had formed an entire argument in your head with yourself about whether you should ask for his number or not- but the time never came.

   He ordered shot after shot, his words slowly starting to get more and more slurred with every drink he downed. His tab was starting to get dangerously high, and you would slip in ‘shots’ of water in between all of the vodka shots every so often to keep him hydrated. He wasn’t exactly the usual type of drunk you’d get at the bar; most people would either be angry drunks or sad drunks, but Keiji didn’t fall into either of these categories. 

   Instead, he was more of a mix between a flirtatious and exhausted drunk. 

   He was still able to hold a conversation with you, but he would slip up more often than before. He dropped nicknames left and right, always switching between ‘cutie’, ‘my little lady’, and even ‘sugar’ every now and then. Although you definitely weren’t complaining; it was rather entertaining to watch each layer of him unfold, and your heart never stopped pounding obnoxiously in your chest as you continued to slack off and talk to him. 

   But that was only the flirtatious side of him; the other side made him look ready to pass out at any given moment. He was beginning to blink a lot slower, and seemed to snap out of random dazes every once in a while. He was even beginning to slow down on the alcohol, which probably surprised you the most out of everything else.

   However, you were really beginning to worry about him. The bar was about to close, and since he had come by himself there wasn’t exactly a ‘designated driver’ waiting for him outside. If you even knew how to drive, you would’ve gladly have taken him home but that and letting him drive intoxicated were clearly out the window. 

   Which left you with only one option: your own house down the street.

   An hour or so before closing, you closed his tab and quickly charged the card before putting it back onto the counter. You stared at Keiji for a moment; his head was slightly tilted down, as if he was staring at his own hand. You couldn’t tell whether he had accidentally fallen asleep or if he was actually focused on something.

   Letting out a soft chuckle, you gently cupped the side of his face with the palm of your hand, “Hey, sleepyhead, you still up?” 

   He seemed to almost immediately stir at the touch. He pressed his cheek closer into your palm and eventually looked up at you with an exhausted yet tender expression painted very clearly on his face. 

   “Hmm?” He hummed, blinking sluggishly as the corners of his mouth tugged into an everlasting smile, “What did...What did I miss, sugar?”

   Oh, what a babbling lady's man you are. You thought, softly shaking your head as you turned your attention to Diana. “Diana!” You called, and she looked between you and Keiji. She seemed to immediately understand as a mischievous grin spread out on her face. “Can you close-” 

   She cut you off quickly, “Of course, don’t worry about it. Go get laid already!!” 

   Your cheeks flushed a deep pink as you turned away from her and refocused on Keiji, who seemed about ready to fall asleep in your hands. “Ooh? Whooo’s getting laid?” 

   “Not you.” You teased, reluctantly removing your hand from his face as you took his card off the table and slipped it into your pocket, knowing he would probably forget it. You quickly grabbed your keys and bag from the back room, ignoring Diana as she taunted you playfully with her pointer finger and ok sign on her other hand. 

   You left the bar and looped around to the stool where he was sitting. “We’re going to my house, okay? You can crash there for the night,” You said as you slipped one of your hands into his and helped him stand up carefully.

   “You know that’s not..that’s not safe, right? Letting a stranger in..into your home.”

   “Neither is drunk driving.”

   “Touché.” 

   He had a rather strong grip on your hand, but it wasn’t at all crushing. Once you had made sure that he still had his wallet and such on him, you led him out of the bar and began walking down the sidewalk.

   He made a few flirtatious comments along the way, although you tried to ignore him as you were only focused on getting the two of you safely inside.

   “You have such ti...tiny hands.” He teased you as you finally opened the door to your small rental house after a bit of struggling; he refused to let go of your hand, which was actually your dominant hand of all things.

   Kicking the door shut and locking it, you led him over to the pull-out couch where you would let him crash. You dropped your bag and coat on a nearby ottoman and stopped in front of the couch, ready to leave him and go snuggle into your own bed immediately.

   But, clearly, he had other ideas.

   As soon as you two were close enough to the couch, he threw himself onto it and laid down, dragging you along with him. You somehow ended up on top of him as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you closer to his body and effectively caging you in. At first, you tried to struggle and flail your way out of his arms, but he had a grip as tight as a grizzly bear and he was clearly not letting you go anytime soon.

   You let out a long sigh as you looked at him, your muscles relaxing as you gave up on escaping. He was already knocked out, with his eyes squeezed shut and his eye bags only further defined underneath them. His own body slackened after a few moments, his biceps and chest muscles becoming softer as he eased up. 

   Well, I guess that solves my pillow issue. You thought to yourself as you closed your eyes and pressed your body up against his.You slowly snaked your arms loosely around his neck, lying completely flat on his body as sleep clawed and begged you to let go. He really was like one big body pillow, and you felt oddly comfortable with your head resting on his chest. Despite still being fully dressed, you fell asleep rather quickly. 

   Just laying there in his arms, you felt more at peace than you had in a long time. 

   In fact, you felt oddly..safe. 

   There in his arms.