#and it wasn’t like an average ‘buzz’ cause something came in contact with you

[galfromearth-22191]

Margo Ms. Gurl, can you link us where you got your VR system from??

That bad boy is advanced

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.3

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Three: When I’m Over You: Spencer’s desperate attempt to move on from you doesn't quite go as planned. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: omg thank you for the kind kind feedback to the last chapter! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account.. but i am so glad you like the series so far, it genuinely it means a lot to me!! 

-

A large window exposed the handsome brunette gentleman not only the restaurant goers, but also the world outside. Any average passerby could detect that he was nervous. Leg shaking underneath the table. Fingers tapping the surface. Quick glances between the watch on his wrist, and the entrance of the restaurant. 

Table for two yet he currently sat alone, most likely waiting for someone. A date. 

Yes, Spencer decided it was time to put himself out there once again. To really try and get over you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask his friends for advise on how to go about moving on because they would instantly figure out it had something to do with you. So instead he was forced to turn to a source he usually tried to stray from - the internet.

After hours of browsing Spencer decided majority of the tips were, for lack of a better word, shitty and didn't really apply to his situation. Don't torture yourself. Purge your pictures. No contact rule. Allow some fantasising. Visualise your future. 

He was about to give up when one word caught his eye. Rebound. Although the concept seemed cruel at first, it was quite frankly the only viable option. Plus from conversations he overheard at work between his colleagues there was nothing wrong with a little causal dating.

Fast forward a couple of days and here he was, patiently waiting for his date to arrive. 

Spencer was feeling anxious. He hadn't been out to dinner with a stranger like this in some time. He also couldn't help but wonder whether this would actually work.  

Back when you and Ethan first got together, the brunette doctor did go out a few times. Dinners, drinks, coffee meet-ups, museum outings etc., nothing worked as effectively as he had hoped it would. Honestly, it didn't work at all.

Although, to be fair, Spencer didn't try as hard as he could have. He deliberately picked people he knew he wouldn't hit it off with. Self-sabotage. Majority of the dates he went on were cut short by him, and the ones that made it to the end... Well, there was rarely a second and never a third.

The brunette agent looked in the direction of the door once again. For a brief moment he considered walking out, texting his date to cancel - ‘Something came up. Can we reschedule?’. No harm, no foul. 

He should have done that. He should have, but he didn't. Instead the person he was supposed to meet did. And as his phone buzzed on the table, an apology message illuminating the screen, Spencer’s eyes found themselves focusing instead on the last person he wanted to see right now. 

You.

The air caught in his throat. His instincts told him to duck his head down yet he found himself unable to move. Eyes fixated on you. Wondering why you were here. Wondering whether you were alone. Wondering whether perhaps he should try and get your attention. 

You noticed him just as you were about to leave. A kindhearted smile spread on your face the second your gaze landed on him, and Spencer waved awkwardly from his seat. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him. 

“Fancy seeing you here doctor.” You said warmly. 

Spencer cleared his throat. “You too.” He responded, nervously smiling back at you. “What are you doing here Y/N?”

You directed his focus to a rather large paper gift bag you were holding. “Just collecting some things that were left behind after our engagement party.” 

The brunette agent facepalmed himself mentally. Of course. How could he be so stupid to overlook that this was the same restaurant as your party. 

“How about you? Are you waiting on someone?” You asked, glancing briefly at the empty seat across from him. Spencer nodded slowly. “I was yes, but they just cancelled.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” An apologetic look graced your features but the brunette doctor shook his head. “Don’t be.”

You glanced at the seat once again before lifting your hand over your shoulder and pointing back to the exit. “Well, I should go. I have a bottle of wine at home with my name on it but I will see you bright and early on Monday doctor.” 

Shooting him one last warm smile, you turned around and were about to walk away when he grabbed your attention one more time. 

“Would you like to join me?” Spencer asked causing you to spin back on your heel to look at him again. “I’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes, holding up the table, so I kind of feel bad leaving without ordering anything.” He explained. 

“Only if you promise we split the bill evenly in half.” You grinned as Spencer chuckled. “Fine, I promise.” He responded. Satisfied with his answer, you placed the paper bag next to table before taking off your jacket. The brunette doctor sprung to his feet and took the garment from you. He walked up to the nearest coat hanger as you made yourself comfortable in the empty seat.

“Where is Ethan tonight?” Spencer asked sitting back down. He signalled the waiter to bring over the menus. “I don't want to be keeping you if he’s waiting at home.” He said, even though it was a lie. 

“Ethan is working.” You replied, a sad tone to your voice that Spencer detected instantly. “Which is why I’m glad you asked me to stay because otherwise my dinner would consist of frozen pizza.” You added. “Don’t forget the bottle of wine that has your name on it.” Spencer jokingly reminded and you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle.

The waiter appeared shortly after. They handed you each a menu and asked whether you would like something to drink in the meantime. Since you had to drive home later, you only asked for water. Not wanting to drink alone, mainly in fear he would blab the reason he was really here in the first place, Spencer did the same. 

Soon enough the two of you were lost in a naturally flowing conversation. Each of you took turns filling every breath with more interesting topics. It wasn’t strange since Spencer and you never particularly had any difficulties in that area. 

You placed your orders briskly, eager to return to whatever it was that you were talking about. Even when the food arrived, if one of you paused to take a bite the other would jump in and start rambling off. It was nice to say the least. 

“Can I ask you something Spencer?” You enquired while finishing your meal and placing the cutlery on top of your empty plate. “Anything.” Spencer replied before taking a sip of his water.

“Do you think I'm making a mistake?”

Spencer wanted to lie and say that you weren't but no matter what way he looked at it, as an ex or as a friend, it just didn't seem fair. Therefore the silence that enveloped around you was answer enough. Slowly, you nodded your head in understanding.

You looked out the large window next to you and let out a quiet sigh. It didn't come as a surprise that Spencer felt this way. It hurt just a little however, mainly because you couldn't bring yourself to admit that sometimes you felt the same way. That there were nights you lay awake thinking that you should have said no. 

You loved Ethan, and he loved you. He made you laugh, he cared for you. If one day you’d have kids you knew that he would make a great father and that your children would get everything they could ever dream of; they wouldn't even have to ask. All of that should be enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him. But there were days, moments, where you couldn't help but feel like something important was missing. 

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked back at him. Meeting his inviting gaze, you pursed your lips into a gentle smile. 

The brunette doctor leaned forward. “Do you remember that case we worked in Missoula a few years back?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Before he got a chance to elaborate you cut in politely, knowing exactly which case he was talking about. “Of course I remember doctor. It was my first case with the team.” You said, fondly remembering the memory.

“Hotch asked you to play Prince Charming to the unsub, which looking back at it now makes a lot of sense to me. You do have a lot of Prince Charming qualities.” Spencer smirked softly at your comment. “I have Prince Charming qualities?” He raised a curious brow.

“Are you kidding me? Charisma, smarts, kind heart. The perfect hair, warm smile, and just overall good looks.” You chimed. The small smile on your face grew a little bigger. “You tick all the boxes my friend. Disney could use you as a blueprint.”

Spencer laughed. “Good to know.” 

The two of you sat there for a second just smiling at one another. 

“Why do you ask though?” You asked reaching for your water; breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer licked his lips before taking in a quick breath. “You said something to me on the plane back home that I think applies now; ‘Meant to be isn't real. It’s a concept. You can’t know if something is meant to be unless you live through it, therefore you can’t know if something is a mistake unless you give it a go. Fairy tales and happy endings are made only by people that live them.’.” 

Your eyes began to gloss over with tears. Trying to fight back the floods, you chewed down on your bottom lip and swallowed your breath. You couldn't believe he remembered. Yes, he has an eidetic memory but you couldn't believe he remembered.

“You will get your happy ending Y/N.” Spencer stated confidently. “I know you will.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear. 

Slowly, you wiped your cheeks for any tears that escaped your eyes and smiled kindly. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say doctor?”

“Years of practice as a profiler.” He answered. “Plus having an eidetic memory helps.” He joked, shrugging his shoulders.

You giggled, your eyes once again locking with his. This time however there was a sort of shyness surrounding it. When your heart skipped a beat, when the palms of your hands began to sweat, when you couldn't bring yourself to look away, well, that should have been an indication that you were in trouble.

And while you played off the warning signs as nothing more than a friendship bond, Spencer realised that any efforts to ‘find a rebound’ would be wasteful. 

There was no-one on this planet that would come remotely close to you. 

Someday, someday Some way, some way When I'm over you

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the third chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01​, @reverdevivre​, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy​, @lunaofcrows

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​

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[rexscanonwife]

Deja Vu of The Heart

The nighttime air was thick with the lingering heat of the evening sun, and of hundreds of bodies crowding together along the boardwalk, still brightly lit with buzzing neon lights. Like every night, the little shack housing that old carousel was full to capacity. The sound of raucous carnival music along with the chatter and screams of laughter coming from patrons all blending together into one great roar of indiscriminate white noise pouring out of every window. It didn’t seem like the most enjoyable sensory experience, but it didn’t bother Brie one bit. Not with the boy by her side. 

While the world spun around them, she sat atop the colorful fiberglass horse with David standing closely beside her, one of his gloved hands resting firmly on the small of her back. Both for balance and to keep her close, she figured. That was sort of how he showed his own special kind of affection. The tiniest detail, unnoticeable to the average passerby, but it was his way of saying ‘I’ve got you, no one will lay a finger on you as long as I’m around’ without so many words. She wasn’t sure how she figured, she just kind of knew that it was what he meant. Maybe it was just his personality, she thought. So stoic and cryptic, not one for sweet nothings or for long, sappy kisses in front of the prying eyes of dozens. Yet despite all that, he was able to convey perfectly to her that she was in his heart. That it had room for her and her alone. 

When they met he seemed like he would be hard to read. She rarely saw him without that permanent scowl etched into his face, aside from the occasional smug grin or smirk, of course. Then, suddenly, he gave her a smile. A genuine smile, and it felt like finally finding something you’ve been looking for for a long time. Suddenly it was like she understood him perfectly, though little had actually changed. He was still the same broody, judgemental David, but she felt closer and closer to him all the time. She was falling in love, she was sure of it, but it almost felt like more than that. 

The ride lurched a bit, causing David’s grip to tighten on her. Consequently it broke her away from her thoughts, and her attention was back on him. She looked at his face, even in the dim lights he was still so handsome. The curve of his nose and the way his mouth quirked into a slight grin at the corners. He was enjoying himself too. 

He’d told her that he and the others had been banned from the boardwalk more times than they could count, but somehow the person who’d banned them always seemed to turn up missing. So they were never gone long, and they always came back with trouble to spare. Tonight, though, it was just the two of them like he’d promised. 

Finally the ride came to a full stop, the bell ringing loudly to signify that it was time to exit. She began to climb off the horse herself, when David offered her his hand. She laughed lightly.

“I guess chivalry isn’t dead after all!” she joked, as she took it and he helped her down. But as she stepped off, he didn’t let go right away. His eyes never leaving her face, instead he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

If she’d been asked, she wouldn’t have been able to explain what happened next. It was like her soul left her body, and it wasn’t just because of the uncharacteristically tender gesture.

 Suddenly, she was somewhere else. It was bright, and hot, a midday sun shining in her eyes. Like a dream, everything was blurred and a bit vague. Still, she was able to make out the person in front of her, still holding her hand up to his lips. It looked like David, but he was...different. His hair was shaggy and a more natural blond than his signature platinum locks, and his clothes looked like they were straight out of some spaghetti western film, but his face was undoubtedly exactly the same. The strangest thing yet, his lips were so warm against her skin, his cheeks flushed when he pulled away and smiled at her. Nothing like his usual unnaturally cold kisses.

Then, like nothing at all had happened, she was back in that dimly lit room. Still standing on that carousel, now silent except for the clamor of people making their way out the door. And in front of her was David. Her David, his brow furrowed with the closest thing to concern he could manage. 

“You feeling ok, doll?” He asked, and it took her a second to even register that he’d even spoken. She blinked, and quickly nodded, not wanting him to think she was unwell. She didn’t want to give him any reason to take her home early and end their night. 

“Oh, it’s nothing! Don’t worry about me.” She reassured him. He cocked an eyebrow, not seeming convinced, but still he wasn’t normally one to pry. He plucked a cigarette from behind his ear and put it to his lips, a motion he’d done countless times before, but the weight of his unspoken worry was heavy on both of them. She wrapped her hands around his arm and nuzzled his shoulder, normally about as much pda as he would possibly allow, as her way of saying it really was ok. This seemed to satisfy him for now, and his expression softened a bit.

“If you say so.” 

“You know...I’ve never been on a ferris wheel before!” Brie said, leading him away. Still squeezing his bicep, they walked off together towards the next shiny, exciting thing that would distract the young couple. 

Still, her vision, or flashback, or whatever it had been never left her mind. As they sat together in the carriage, high above the bustling boardwalk, her sight was fixed pensively on the wine-dark sea reflecting the pale moonlight. Suddenly, she felt David’s hand, his fingers intertwining themselves with hers. Her heart jumped in her chest at the contact, and she turned to him. His chin resting lazily on his other hand, there it was. 

That smile. The same one that she’d seen earlier, the same one that she alone knew. Like a petal floating on a stream, she was drawn towards him, breath brushing across lips before they met for a soft moment. Cold. But...hers. 

She rested her head on his shoulder again, and this time he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against him tightly. ‘I’ve got you’ 

‘

[panic-at-the-fiction]

Hello Darling pt6

Summary: (y/n) is the Salvatore younger sister, and she is low-key in love with one of the originals. You know which one. The only problem is he is a low-key psychopath and neither of them remember that this isn’t their first meeting.

Warnings: I ain’t got nothing to warn this time and less you count language.

A/N: I’m so happy I get to write this one Finally! You're all gonna hate me one day. Trust me. Also I want to be clear. When I started writing this Matt was not a dick. I want to say that (y/n) Salvatore would never be friends with modern Matt Donovan. She was friends with normal Matt who was captain of the football team and just wanted to stay away from vamps.

It had been almost a month since you last saw Kol and life had gone on just like it always had. Damon trying to kill the originals, the originals trying to kill Damon, Stefan was in there somewhere, Elena made decisions for other people and then bitched about people not letting her make her own decisions, etc etc.

But things were going better for you now. You Damon and Stefan began an unspoken agreement to eat lunch together every Sunday. Just like your mom used to make you do. It wasn’t always fancy but every week you went over to the bordering house and brought some sort of food with you, usually take out. But it was a nice peace offering between the three of you.

It was another average Sunday morning and you were about to leave to go get yours and your brother lunches. You were shocked when you opened your door to find Damon and Elena in your hallway.

It was an odd sight at the least. You didn’t hate Elena as much as you used to because you knew she was important to your brother. Like you said the lunches were helping you all get along.

“Hey guys I was just about to head on over to the house for lunch.” You locked your door behind you.

“Sorry sis but lunch is canceled for the day. We’re going on a road trip. Care to join us?”

“No offense Damon but I don’t think the three of us being in an enclosed space for long periods of time is a good idea.”

“Even if we’re going to visit your best bud in Denver? Come on don’t tell me you're over Jeremy moving already after all the bitching to us about it.”

You wanted to be mad about the bitching comment but how could you? They're going to see Jeremy. Your closest friend. And Damon actually thought about you. He knew you wanted to see Jeremy and came by to tell you he was going to do just that. He probably needed you for something but you didn’t care.

Despite yourself you walked over and hugged your oldest brother. He seemed taken aback by your affection, but he didn’t push you away.

You went back into your apartment and packed a small bag before walking outside and tossing it in Damon’s car.

The ride lasted a lifetime but no one tried to kill anyone so over it all it went great. You all got to your destination in one piece.

Elena had to ask around but you had finally tracked Jeremy down to the local batting cages.

“You know next time we compel him lets at least make him better at baseball.” Damon huffed out and Elena smacked him lightly on the chest.

You ran over to the batting cage he was practicing in. “Hey Gilbert!” You shouted at him through the fence. He smiled when he saw you behind him and walked out to greet you guys.

He’s smile dropped when he saw his sister and your brother. He knew you wouldn’t have driven here with them unless something bad had happened. “(Y/n), Elena, Damon. What’s wrong?”

Damon began to tell the whole story. He told him about the sire lines and what happens if an original is killed, he even told him about Rose and how she fit into all of this. You didn’t really care about their mission to talk to Rose so you just stood back and waited for them to finish up.

Jeremy looked over at you and his sister. “So you three all drove in a car together just to get me to talk to a dead vampire? Well I’m sorry guys but I can’t. I could only talk to Anna and Vicky because I knew them. I never met this rose.”

“What good´s you coming back to life if you can’t talk to a ghost when I need you too?”

“Listen here Rose spent a lot of time running from Klaus as well she and Damon were close, so we think maybe we can use him as a connection.”

You started to drown them out as you saw a fissure walking towards you. The sun was in your eyes but you were somehow sure it was Kol. You must have been hallucinating.

You finally snapped back to reality for a second as Jeremy spoke up again. “Can we do this later my friend just got here and yes Damon I do have some of those.” He pushed by Elena, and she turned around to see Jeremy's friend.

She gasped “Damon, it's Kol!”

Just as Damon turned around, Kol swung the bat in his hand and knocked Damon to the ground breaking the bat in half.

Shocked Jeremy yelled at his so-called friend. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Jeremy get back he’s an original!” Elena said, trying to warn her brother.

“No hard feelings mate, but we’re not buds.” Kol just smirked as he picked out a new bat and turned to face you. You were seething with rage. You knew exactly how Kol had gotten here, and he had used you. “You can thank your good friend (y/n) for helping me find you little Gilbert.”

He twirled his new bat in his hands. “You know I’ll never get used to aluminum but hey at least it won't break.” He pulled the bat back preparing to swing again at your brother who was still trying to get up after the first blow.

You quickly picked a piece of the broken bat off the ground and shoved it into Kols chest before he could hit Damon again. “Dick” you said, basically spitting in his face. He collapsed on the ground at your feet and you stepped over his body. Reaching to help Damon on the ground.

“Did you kill him?” Jeremy asked, eyeing the original laying on the ground.

“No, but it will give us a head start.” You said directing the group to the car.

Barely ten minutes down the road Damon started banging his fist on the steering wheel “Dammit I can’t believe that psychopath followed us all the way here.”

“I know I can’t believe he found Jeremy here. After we did all that to send Jeremy away to keep him safe from everything back home. I just don’t see how they could have known where he was.” Elena said not seeming to realize you and Jeremy were in the back seat.

“Wait what do you mean you sent me away? I chose to move to Denver”.

Elena's face dropped now that she realized her mistake in words. You laughed, you had been waiting to tell Jeremy the truth for months. “Oh you see Jeremy, Elena had Damon compel you again so that you would want to move to Denver.” You watched as the two avoided eye contact with Jeremy.

“You compelled me again! After how much I hated it last time and how angry I was at you! You did it again!”

“It was the right thing to do Jeremy we needed to keep you safe.”

“You can’t keep taking away my free will. It wasn’t your decision to make. I can handle myself, Elena. You always think you know best for everyone but don’t!”

The car fell silent again before Jeremy pipped back up. “Kol didn’t follow you guys here. He’s been here for weeks. I met him a month ago.”

Elena turned around to face you as she remembered what Kol had said earlier. “What did he mean by we could thank you for him finding Jeremy (y/n)?” judgement in her voice.

You knew it was your fault for today. You trusted Kol and that was on you. “If you must know Elena I told Kol where Jeremy was. I didn’t realize he would run off and tell his brother about it.”

“What do you mean you told Kol? How could you tell a psychopath where my brother was! Did he compel you or something?”

You pushed your anger down and just rolled your eyes. “Usually Elena when I sleep with a guy and then open up to him about my problems he doesn’t run home and tell his big brother everything I said.”

Damon immediately slammed on the brakes causing you all to jerk forward in your seats. “You slept with the maniac!”

“Who are you to judge Damon? You slept with Rebekah.”

Elena's eyes widened “You slept with Rebekah?”

“That was weeks ago after the Mikaelson ball. That doesn’t count. I didn’t tell her specific information about our plans.”

You were once again boiling with anger. This time not just at Kol for using you but for Elena and Damon. “I can’t do this. I’m walking.” You quickly got out of the car on the side of the road.

Damon followed behind you. “Where do you think you're going?”

“To the diner I saw a mile back.” You called back walking away from him.

“We have to talk to rose!”

“Then call me when you find somewhere to stay and I’ll get a cab.”

Jeremy jumped out of the car and started to walk in the same direction as you. “I’ll go with her and keep an eye out.”

Elena stuck her head out of the window of the car. “Jeremy don’t. Get back in the car.”

He laughed “or what? You’ll have Damon compel me?” You waited for Jeremy to catch up with you and the two of you started to walk in the opposite direction of your annoying siblings.

Defeated Damon and Elena drove off without you two.

You and Jeremy walked in silence until you finally reached the dinner you had passed earlier. You two set down and ate before you even started talking.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened with you and this Kol dude?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I slept with him, let it slip where you were, and he went after you. What’s done is done.”

“I think he mentioned you to me. When he was pretending to be my friend he talked about a girl from his hometown that he liked but his family didn’t approve, and they were too powerful, so he just thought it would be best if he stayed away and didn’t care.”

“Well he got the not caring part right. He’s not staying away though. He’s probably chasing us as we speak.”

Jeremy laughed “Well I think a part of his psychotic mind actually likes you.”

Your phone started buzzing in your pocket. Damon was calling you.

“And that’s our cue to leave.” He said, pulling out his wallet and asking for the check. Meanwhile you answered Damon’s call and wrote down the address of a hotel, he gave you before calling a taxi to come pick you two up.

Whatever did happen between you and Kol didn’t matter now. Whether he cared or not he betrayed you and you were going to give him hell for it.

Hey guys so just wanna say thank you for like this story so much I’m glad people have actually been seeing it. I’m sorry I’ve been inconsistent with it I’m trying to write more but I just got my heart ripped from my chest and I’m working on that right now so yeah. Hope you like the chapter.

[danadeservesadrink]

Gin and Tonic

The sequel to Wine and Whiskey is here! AND its part of the XF First Dates challenge created by the lovely @starwalker42 ! Hope you all enjoy! Also tagging @today-in-fic

Rated T, 4320 words, read on AO3 here

This is awkward.

She can’t help but think it for the fourth time since she’d walked into the office this morning. He was already lounging at his desk when she had come in, her cheeks still flushed from the harsh autumn breeze. Her heels had clicked through the open doorway and she spotted him first, his feet propped up on the desk, lazily sharpening a pencil, staring off at some papers he’d tacked up on the corkboard. But he heard her and spun in his chair to face her, the dying buzz of the sharpener giving way to silence.

Awkward. Silence.

She knew that continuing to work together after the events of Friday night wouldn’t be simple. She knew when he left her on Saturday, kissing her gently against the door and promising to see her on Monday, that it would be impossible to forget the softness of his lips and the way he tasted. Logically, the fundamental shift of knowing what his naked body looked like on top of hers made things anything but simple.

But she had hoped they would somehow make it simple. It was them, for God’s sake, he was her best friend, her partner. Sleeping together couldn’t ruin that for them.

Clearly she had vastly overestimated her ability to compartmentalize.  

They had stared at each other for a solid two minutes before she even made it through the door frame. It was impossible to read his thoughts, but by the crease in his brow and the way his eyes repeatedly drifted south of her own, she could only guess that they were of a similar nature to hers. And her own thoughts were resulting in a blush that was very much not due to the chilled breeze.

Compartmentalization was a practiced art, and boy did the pair of them have practice. Sure, when she first walked into his office she had allowed herself the momentary thought as to what his strong hands would feel like touching more than the small of her back, but those thoughts were easily shoved to the back of her mind as inappropriate fantasies, reserved only for midnight phone calls with Melissa and when she was feeling particularly wound up by him. That was also 7 years ago. She would have thought she had matured since then.

But today she found that throwing away the thoughts of him on top of her was much more difficult when they were no longer simply a fantasy.

She had allowed herself one more moment to fight the urge to leap into his lap from across the room and repeat the events of Friday night, and then walked into the room with no further glances to the man behind the desk.

This is a workplace, for God’s sake, and you’re both adults. Keep it together.  

The tension she could deal with. It was the silence that made everything so weird.

He didn’t even say good morning to her, let alone say her name for the first hour. The only words exchanged were those regarding the locations of paperwork, and even those conversations were shortened from their usual banter.  

He broke the dead air once and asked her how her weekend was. She actually saw him wince at the stupidity of his own question, and spared both of them the discomfort of her answer by keeping her attention fixed on her expense report.

He was impossible not to look at, though, and she found herself glancing up at him every so often just to see him staring at his own reports. Maybe she was hoping to see him staring back at her, at least give her some indication that what had happened between them was affecting him the same way. Plaguing her thoughts with constant flashes of his tongue lapping at the dip of her clavicle, drifting lower…

But he seemed much more interested in whatever X-file he was studying today.  

They got a phone call at 10:00 and he leaned over the desk to answer at the same time she reached for it, immediately causing the both of them to retract their hands like the phone was now magically on fire, their eyes shooting up to meet each other in a panic at the mere possibility of skin to skin contact. It rang again and they sat in stalemate until Mulder tentatively reached over again to answer, still maintaining eye contact until Scully returned to biting the nails off the hand that almost betrayed her professional exterior.

And now, she was stuck to her seat, frozen while she tried not to inhale the strong scent of Mulder that had suddenly overcome her, ripping her thoughts straight from expenses and back to the taste of Moscato and Jack Daniels. Apparently, he decided he needed a case file immediately and instead of asking her to grab it for him, had invaded her space to reach right over top of her to grab a stack of folders on top of the cabinet.

He must not have realized the effect he had until he stepped back with his files and she released the air she’d been holding in, attempting to mask it under the guise of a sigh but obviously failing. He stood with his arms full of papers and a perplexed look on his face that almost made her laugh if she wasn’t so embarrassed. Eventually he turned, dropped the stack on his desk, and seemed to gather his thoughts before turning back to her.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” he spoke quickly, not really meeting her eye. It took her a second to realize he was talking to her. When she did, she looked up, eyebrow raised at his sudden directness.  

“I usually call my mom on Mondays, but that's really all.”

“Oh, ok.” She can see the disappointment written across his face, but it was him who brought it up, so it felt rude to presume where he was going with this. She waits a beat and realizes he’s not going to continue, so she takes pity on him.

“I can reschedule. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

His smile lights the room, and for just a moment everything is simple again.

“Let’s get dinner”, he says, stepping closer to her, and she finds herself sitting taller in her chair in response.

“Sure, my place or yours?”

“I was thinking we could go out”

Oh. Oh.

She hadn’t considered this. She thought that maybe he’d want to see her again, maybe under the pretense of a movie night or even some late night casework. But Fox Mulder asking her out to dinner was something she hadn’t quite prepared herself for.

Is it a date? Like an actual dinner date, the kind regular couples go on? Does this mean he wants to date her? What does that mean? What does any of this mean?

Immediately overwhelmed with questions, her mind reeled. He’s asking her out and he’s looking at her like that again and this is entirely inappropriate for their basement office but so ridiculously them that she finds herself charmed despite her best intentions.

“Sure. Yes. Where?”

She’s babbling on, blush rising through her cheeks again, and he notices, his smile growing.

“How about that bar, Hanks? I’ve heard they make a mean salad.”

He again steps towards her, and in the small space of their office he ends with their knees almost touching. She looks up into his eyes and suddenly is devoid of all thoughts other than those keeping herself from grabbing him by his tie and pulling him down into her, paired nicely with thoughts telling her to do exactly that.  

“That does sound nice,” she whispered. “What time were you thinking”

“We could just head over there whenever we finish here?”

“Ok” she says, and she hopes he can’t hear the anticipation in her voice. He looks like he might bend over and kiss her, right there in the center of their office, and she thinks she’s very ok with that scenario, but he hesitates.

“Great.” he says, and leaves her space to return back to behind his desk. The furniture lended itself as a barrier to dull the ever increasing pull between them, and her heart rate returned to resting levels. As an afterthought, he mumbled to himself something that she didn’t quite catch, but sounded an awful like “It’s a date”.

“What?” she asked, and it was his turn to blush.

“Nothing, sorry,” he muttered, proceeding to bury his nose back in his files.

It was going to be a long day.

-

They remained in agonizing silence for the remainder of the day, both spending more time glancing up at the clock than actually getting any work done. Mulder casts the occasional glance in her direction, hoping to maybe catch her eye for some reassurance that he hadn’t completely fucked up, but consistently she was focused on her notes, occasionally pressing the pen to her lips in concentration, tapping it a few times there, then resuming her writing.

He didn’t know how she was doing it, staying so calm and professional. The second she’d walked into the office with that windswept look on her face he’d had the fight the urge to cross the room and press her up against the door right there. But he knew that she would chastise him for the very idea, so he packed up that thought for later and tried to pretend it was just your average Monday.

But god was it awkward trying to pretend that he hadn't had her pressed up against his kitchen counter topless and begging. It was impossible not to remember the way she said his name when she came, how she shook in his arms and he wanted her so badly…

He had debated over the whole weekend what to do when Monday came.

Would she want to do it with him again? Would she pretend like nothing happened? Would she even show up to work?

But eventually, he decided on a date. He owed her at least one good old fashion date, where he opened the car door and pulled out her chair. For seven years he’d dragged her across the country on his epic journey for the truth, and she hadn’t left his side yet. The least he could do was buy her dinner.

Sex before the first date wasn’t exactly traditional either, but neither were they. They may as well do this thing , whatever it was, their own way, as non-traditional and ridiculous as it is.

So he asked her on a date. Spontaneous combustion would have probably been less painful but he did manage to blurt it out after their fourth uncomfortable interaction of the day, hoping that maybe the promise of the night would ease the tension. It worked, slightly, and the way she looked at him when he asked made him feel like he made the right choice. He would have kissed her right there if he thought he would be able to stop after just one.

Eventually the silence settled back in, persisting until 6:00 pm on the dot, when both of them arose from their chairs in a daze and started packing up.

He thought when they got off the clock things would get easier. He was sorely mistaken.

The problem was that he didn’t know what to do with his damn hands. Before, when they packed up their office and headed to their respective vehicles, he would guide her out in front of him with a hand placed in his spot at the small of her back, locking the door behind the two of them. While that had been an unconscious gesture before, now it felt deeply possessive and wholly intimate.

Far too intimate for a man about to take a woman on a first date .

It didn’t help that now he knew he knew there was a little freckle right in that spot that he couldn’t help but picture every time he glanced at her back. So he just shoved them in his pockets and used his shoulder blade to hold the door.

Space, too, was never an issue before, and he had never considered how much he invaded hers. Not until he leaned over to flick the lightswitch off and found himself practically nose to nose with her. She froze, wide eyed, as he backed away slowly, like she was a woodland animal he didn’t want to scare off, mumbling an apology.

They stood just a little too far apart on the elevator, Mulder choosing to stare at his own shoelaces instead of chancing a glance over at her. They exited into the parking garage and eventually she broke the silence before they got stuck staring off at license plates and cement walls.

“Do you want to drive? Or can we walk?” she asked. He considered the options. If he drove he could focus on the road instead of the incessant thoughts swirling through his brain regarding the fact that she had to wear a turtleneck today because of him. But his ever growing need for a drink made him lean towards the walking option. And he was worried that at the rate today was going, opening her car door may result in a trip to the hospital.

“Lets walk”

-

They started talking about a case on the walk over, bitter winds making it easy to keep their hands in their pockets, and he guesses arguing over the implications of seemingly random asphyxiation was much better than silence.

She was in the middle of explaining to him how the collapse of the trachea that she had seen in the autopsies could not have been caused without a physical crushing of the neck when they walked in the restaurant. He walked up to the hostess desk to check in with her following closely behind.

“Reservation for Fox Mulder” he said to the girl, and pretended not to see Scully’s cocked eyebrow at the fact that he’d had reservations ready. She didn’t need to know he made them as soon as he’d left on Saturday.

The hostess looked up at him and glanced back to Scully and smiled broadly.

“Of course! Right this way Mr. and Mrs. Mulder”

She turned to lead them into the restaurant and Mulder turned to cock an eyebrow at Scully who rolled her eyes, although he spotted a smirk before she tucked her head to her chest and playfully pushed him forward to follow the hostess to their table. He tossed his hands up in mock surrender and weaved through the tables, eventually being seated at a small table near the back. He went to pull out her chair for her but wasn’t quick enough, and his hasty retreat resulted in him getting caught in an awkward dance with the hostess as he spun around the table to his own chair. He would have sworn she was laughing at him if he hadn’t been so busy apologizing to the young girl.

They barely had time to get settled before the hostess was replaced with their waiter, who introduced himself as Brandon and got to taking their drink orders.

“And what can I get for you and the misses tonight sir?” he asks with a smile, and this is just great, Mulder thinks, before smirking across the table at Scully and replying.

“Me and the wife will both have gin and tonics. Well is fine.”

Scully kicked him in the shins under the table, and he covered his grimace with a brilliant smile that Brandon seemed to buy, as he left the table to get their drink orders in. He turned back to see Scully glaring at him.

“‘Me and the wife’, Mulder?” she asked, and he was almost scared for a second before he saw the hint of a smile gracing her lips, and he knew he was in the clear.

“Just trying to see if I can get that honeymoon discount Scully”

She rolls her eyes again to herself and he recalls something his mother used to say about your eyes getting stuck like that. He thinks if that saying had any truth Scully would have found out by now.

They stare down at the menus placed in front of them, a much more comfortable silence than before. He decides on the steak special too quickly and ends up watching her as she intently scans the soup and salad portion of the menu. He studies her features in the low light of the bar, how she brushed little strands of hair back behind her ear when they were in her way, how she licked her lip when she was concentrating. She was breathtaking even when she wasn’t trying to be.

The waiter returned and set their drinks in front of them, both politely nodding in thanks as Brandon began taking their order. She orders a southwest salad with chicken and he orders the steak and Brandon smiles and promises their meals will be out shortly.

And so they are left, open and vulnerable, without menus or desks to use as shields. Mulder nursed his gin, letting the dry taste of alcohol distract him from the beauty of his company. He could see her doing the same, her eyes flicking around the room looking for anything mildly interesting. He followed her gaze to the table next to them, where a couple sat hand in hand, gazing at each other overtop of half eaten meals.

Maybe he should try to hold her hand?

He looked back at Scully and caught her staring at him. Probably waiting for him to say something. He was also anxiously awaiting his next move.

Who was he kidding? He had no moves.

He thought back to first dates he’d had before. It had been a while, longer than he’d prefer to admit. It’s probably why he was so out of practice. But with those women, it had always been different. He would ask them about their families, their careers, what they watch on TV, normal stuff. Scully has a mother, two brothers, one sister that he took away, she’s the best forensic pathologist the FBI has seen in years, and she’s recently gotten into watching those discovery channel specials on ocean animals.

“So you don’t think the asphyxiation could have been spontaneous”

Work is safe. Work doesn’t involve awkward first date questionings that he already knew the answers to. If they talked about work maybe he could convince himself that they were just out in the field, grabbing dinner after a long day of investigation, not that he was stuck sweating through his shirt on a first date with his dream woman.

“I’m just saying there have been no recorded cases of the trachea collapsing in on itself spontaneously. Given the amount of internal trauma…”

“But your report stated there was no visible external trauma,” he interrupted. “Tell me Scully, what are the typical injuries related to strangulation?”

There was a glint in her eyes when he challenged her and he could tell she was much more comfortable with this line of conversation. She’d always take him up on an excuse to fire those incredible grey cells of hers.  

“Well, strangulation typically results in petechial hemorrhages along the neck and in the face, possible lacerations to the throat or surrounding areas. You’ll see bulging of eyes, discoloration of the face due to blood pooling, the tongue can sometimes be bitten or even swollen itself, and-” she was cut off by a grunt from the table next to them, and both of them turned to the couple they had been watching before, who were now looking over at them horrified, the woman seeming like she’d rather vomit than touch any more of her own dinner. Scully shrunk down into her chair and Mulder apologized for the two of them, letting out a frustrated sigh.

So that’s a no-go on the work talk. Come on Mulder, think. What do women like on first dates? They like to be complimented. You should compliment her.

“You look nice.”

She looked up at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

“Mulder I’m wearing my work clothes. The same clothes I’ve been wearing all day” she spoke slowly at him and he wished there was a window nearby he could hurl himself from.

“Yes, um. They’re nice. Your work clothes” he fumbled, speaking with the grace of a hippopotamus attempting ballet.

“Thank you? Um… you look nice… as well.”

The words left her lips and she flamed red up to her ears. Quickly she snatched up her drink and swallowed the remainder of what was in the glass. He followed suit. Maybe if Brandon came back he could just ask him to bring the whole bottle to their table. Clearly they both needed the catalyst. She was still blushing when he put the glass down.

If his profiling skills were to be trusted, which they often are, she was mulling over the same question that he was.

What the fuck are they doing?  

Going out, sleeping together? Were they tossing away 7 years of partnership for...what? To crawl into bed with each other? Satisfy carnal urges that could no longer be suppressed?

No that felt wrong. This wasn’t just a simple fuck, sex without feelings. He certainly had been feeling a lot that night.

So then what? To take her on dates? To make her as happy as she’d made him all these years? To make love to her? Is that what this is? Love?

Does love make you incapable of coherent speech every time you gaze into her eyes for a little too long? Does love make you want to pull out chairs and order drinks for her? Does love render you an absolutely smitten idiot?

Yes .

Well then, if that's what this is, he better get his shit together.

He reaches over to her and grabs her hand that had been tapping anxiously at the table cloth, his chair shifting and making a loud screech that draws the attention of some of the other customers. He feels her jump as their skin makes contact, almost tipping out of her chair herself, shaking the table and she anchors herself with her other hand. It's ridiculous that just 2 days ago he’d been on his knees worshiping her and now she jumps when he touches her hand. It’s all ridiculous, awkward, by far one of the worst first dates he’s ever been on, but god he loves her.

She meets his eyes and it's too much. They burst out laughing, both of them, him still clutching her hand, her reaching across the table with her free one to grasp his forearm. The laughter almost brings tears to his eyes, and he’s positive the couple next to them is starring in disapproval again, but he couldn’t care less because they’re both the most relaxed they’ve been all day. She has her head tossed back and he watches in awe as she laughs with him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

Eventually their laughter subsides, and he squeezes her hands to bring her back to him, speaking softly.

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.”

She chuckles again, aftershocks of their outburst before.

“No Mulder, I should be apologizing. It’s me who’s been so awkward all day”

She grips his hands tightly, like she was trying to enhance the meaning behind her apology.

“It takes two to tango Scully,” he jokes, hoping maybe if he can get her to laugh again she’ll forgive him.

She does.

“I’m just glad you haven’t given up on me yet.”

At this she raised an eyebrow in feigned shock.

“What, and just walk out on a free dinner?” she jests, and he didn’t know he could love her more.

“Now Scully, you and I both know what happens when the man buys his woman dinner…”

He waggles his eyebrows at her and she giggles again. Maybe the gin was getting to her. He hoped that maybe it was just him.

“Agent Mulder you should know that a lady never puts out on a first date.”

She was teasing him now, with that soft smirk and those flirtatious eyes, and he felt the toe of her shoe tap the front of his shin gently.

And just as he feels like reaching across the table and pulling her in for a kiss, Brandon makes his untimely entrance with their entrees.

“Enjoy,” he says with a wave and retreats back to the kitchen. Scully happily dives into her salad and a disappointed Mulder cuts his steak. The reviews on this place must have been correct, because she is humming contentedly by her third bite, clearly satisfied with her choice of dinner. He made a mental note to look into other restaurants in the area with stellar salad reviews.

The awkwardness seemed to dissipate as they ate. He pretended not to notice her shuffling tomatoes onto his plate and stealing bits of his mashed potatoes back. Eventually when he had eaten his fill, he rotated the plate in her direction, gesturing towards the unfinished potatoes. She acted innocent for a second before scooping a forkful into her mouth. Brandon refilled their drinks but neither felt the call of intoxication any longer. He was perfectly happy getting drunk off of love.

Love .

He wondered when he would tell her. How would he tell her? He wondered if she loved him.

But he wiped a spot of chipotle lime dressing from the corner of her mouth with his thumb and she looked him dead in the eyes and sucked his finger between her perfect lips, releasing it with a pop and instantly returning to the shy smile that she wore better than anything.

He decided that conversation could wait, for now.

At least until the second date.

[coldtacosaladwasntfound]

dissimilant • feral boys + oc series • 1

super powers au

I remember when I was at that age; everything changing, hormones rushing through your body. You know what most people don't associate with puberty? Fucking super powers.

It wasn't a surprise by any means. I'd been raised with the knowledge that eventually I'd get my powers. My parents are both dissimilant, so I was bound to get that gene. If I didn't gain any powers, I probably would've been disappointed; especially considering it's considered the best day of your life when you're like me.

I was maybe 11 years old when I realized I was dissimilant (also, off the record, what the hell is that title? Dissimilant? Like... dissimilar? Way to make me feel normal). I always expected something totally badass. Maybe I would get fire powers and be able to burn things to a crisp. Maybe I'd end up able to control electricity or something actually useful. But you know what I got stuck with? Healing. Of course healing abilities have their own benefits, but I don't wanna end up working in a dissimilant hospital for the rest of my life. I want to be on the frontlines, using my powers the way everyone else does.

The Dissimilant Association of Justice (DAJ) is a group of highly trained professionals who do all the work the government can't capitalize on. This generally is exclusively dissimilant crime, seeing as you can't put someone with beyond human abilities in a normal human made prison. How am I, a healer, supposed to be working as an agent with DAJ? It's dream I had to give up on almost as soon as I started training my abilities.

I hear something buzz. It catches my attention, causing me to look over from my laptop to my bedside table. I've been studying for an exam coming up (for college, not some cool super power school). It's not my phone, so it has to be my DT. A DT is a device you're given by "The Force"; a local dissimilant program that helps youth practice their abilities safely. Don't let the cool name fool you, it's just to distract you from how lame it actually is. The device is meant to let you know current news and information within the community, as well as let us access our progress.

I pick up my DT and look at the screen.

INCOMING MESSAGE

38.987124, -74.811566

What? These are definitely coordinates. I quickly type them into a search engine, my eyes scanning the results. The Wildwood Boardwalk? I have tons of questions. First, why am I being sent coordinates? Second, who's sending me coordinates? And last, when is someone sent coordinates that they shouldn't go to? I live a walk away from the beach, so the urge to check it out is strong... so I'm going to.

I've snuck out millions of times, this is hardly different. Just gotta go through the usual process of sneaking out as if I'm a 16 year old trying to go to a party and not a grown adult trying to... do whatever it is I'm doing. I grab my backpack and a jacket before opening my window, phone and DT in hand, and climbing out of my family's apartment through the fire escape. When I reach the ground, I put the numbers in my phone's GPS and make my way to my bike.

As I ride in the direction I'm told, I can't help but second guess what I'm doing. I'm going to coordinates sent to me by god knows who for crying out loud, this is a sketchy decision and I'll admit to that. Deep down, though, I just had this feeling that I needed to see what was there. I saw that message for a reason and I have to find out why. So I rode down to the boardwalk, stopping at the exact point of the coordinates and hopping off my bike.

There's nothing here. I looked around at the closed booths and rides, the beach only a few yards away. I saw a figure in the distance. It was getting closer, soon getting close enough to be recognizable as a person. My DT started buzzing again. I pulled it out of my pocket and read the words on the screen.

INCOMING MESSAGE

Arrived. Please wait for your teammates to arrive.

Teammates?

The person got closer, now fully visible to me. They pulled something out of their pocket. It illuminated their features with blue light as they looked at it. A DT. They made eye contact with me. "Uh, hello?" They stood about 2 feet in front of me, and I could now see them clearly. "I'm, uh, Alex."

"Alex? Why did you bring me here?" I question. He looks fairly normal to me. His beanie sits on top of his head of slightly messy hair, just a plain T-shirt and sweatpants on.

"I didn't bring you here. I thought you brought me here." He looks down at his DT again. "Do you have one of these?" He holds it up, showing the screen. The same text that was on mine was displayed on his.

I nod. "Yeah... that's a DT. It's what told me to come here here." I pull out my own to show him. "I guess we're teammates... whatever that means."

"I was actually hoping you knew what that means." I shake my head. Silence falls, almost like the two of us are waiting for something. Another voice quickly ends that and grabs our attention.

"Hey!" We both look over, seeing another guy walk up to us. "Who are you?" He seems to keep a distance. He also looks pretty average, blonde hair and green eyes plus a normal wardrobe for a guy his age.

Unsure what to respond with, beanie boy let's out a "Um, Alex?" like he's questioning his name.

"Jordan," I say, plain and simple. "We don't know why we're here. Do you?"

A look of what seems like slight confusion takes over his face. "I'm Clay. I wish I knew." I feel a bit disappointed at the lack of closure.

"Let me guess, your DT got your here?" He nods, looking surprised at my knowledge of what a DT is. "Okay, so we're all dissimilant. That's a start."

"This is epic and all, but I can't shake the feeling that we shouldn't be here," Alex admits.

"Considering the circumstances, who knows if we even have a choice," Clay says.

"He makes a good point," I agree. All of our DTs buzz in sync, causing us to look at the newest message.

INCOMING MESSAGE

3/6 teammates arrived. New location pending.

"What does that mean?" Alex rhetorically questions.

"I guess we're gonna be moving soon." Clay stays silent, probably thinking. "The sooner we have everyone on our 'team' the sooner we get answers."

"I can't tell if I want answers or out of this." We look to Alex as he speaks.

"Something tells me you're not gonna get one without the other," Clay says.

INCOMING MESSAGE

38.977922, -74.823873

The three of us all check the notification, seeing exactly what I expected. I type the coordinates into my phone, the address of a hotel coming up. "It's the Adventurer Oceanfront Inn, a 20 minute walk," I read off of the screen.

"Guys, I think I made a mistake coming out here," Alex says. "This all seems so sketchy."

"We need you to help us find answers. Plus, you came all the way out here, you don't wanna know what's going on?" I push. "There's two more people. Let's go find them."

"I agree," Clay says. "We're already here, we might as well."

I get on my bike, and start my GPS. "I'll lead the way, let's go." Without objection, the guys follow me as I try to ride at a slower speed. "We're gonna be traveling for a bit, we might as well get to know each other." They nod in agreement.

"I'll go first then," Alex starts. "I'm Alex, I'm 20, and I have mind powers, because I'm just so incredible." Clay rolls his eyes before talking.

"I'm Clay, I'm 22, and I have superhuman strength... because I'm even more incredible." I wouldn't have pegged him as the type to have super strength, or the type to be phased by a cocky comment like the other guy's.

"I'm Jordan, I'm 21, and I'm a healer," I introduce myself. "Not so incredible."

"Who says? Healing powers are super useful," Clay reassures me.

"Not when you wanna be an agent." Clay gives me a weird look. "What?"

"Be grateful, you have an actually helpful power. So what if you can't be an agent?" I roll my eyes at his obvious lack of understanding. He has super strength for gods sake.

"Easy for you to say, you could be an agent without even trying." He lets the discussion stop there, looking ahead of us at the empty street.

"I think your powers are cool, Jordan," Alex says, breaking the silence.

"Thanks." The conversation falls flat again, and nobody picks it back up. It's just the atmospheric noises of Wildwood, New Jersey at 2 am. I guess this gives me some time to think about what exactly I'm doing right now.

I'm out of the house in the middle of the night, guiding some random people to a hotel because the coordinates on our 'superhero' devices said so. We could be about to get kidnapped, but also, why would a kidnapper lead us to a location that's open 24/7? I guess we're about to find out.

"So, mind powers? Show us," Clay says to Alex, a 'prove it' tone in his voice. How immature.

"See, uh... I can't really do that." The blonde quirks a brow in question. "It's triggered by my feelings, I can't just do it whenever I want to."

"Lame," He remarks, childishly.

"Shut up, it's not lame!" Alex says in defense.

"It totally is."

"Shut your trap, blondie, you're being a menace," I butt in, stopping a possible quarrel in it's tracks. With that, both of the boys quiet down. I glance down at my GPS, seeing the time estimate says there's only 10 minutes left of our journey. "We have 10 minutes left, I don't want either of you scaring off whoever we meet."

"I'm not scary at all, you should be talking to Mr. Bully over here," Alex jokes.

"I'm talking to both of you," I say, letting out a sigh of annoyance.

After traveling for another 10 minutes, we reach the parking lot of the hotel. We see three guys conversing by the entrance.

INCOMING MESSAGE

Arrived. 6/6 teammates arrived. Approach.

They pull a device out of each of their pockets and look at the screen before their eyes find us. I get off of my bike and walk forward with the other boys. "I'm Jordan. This is Alex and Clay. Who are you?" I say, skipping any other formalities.

They all look fairly normal, although one of them looks like he actually got dressed to come here. One of them speaks up, "I'm... Sapnap. You can call me that." I try to think of why he'd pick that as a nickname before just ignoring it.

"Karl," the dressed one says. He seems nervous.

"I'm George... why are we here?"

I can't help but snicker at how many times I've heard that question tonight. "Who fucking knows."

"What she means is, we're not sure either," Clay says, finally talking to them. Alex seems to be distracted, staring off at a phone booth.

"Guys... I know this may sound weird, but I think we need to go in the phone booth," He says, still staring off. We all look him weirdly. He walks off towards it, me following after him to see what he's on about. He steps inside it, waiting a second, his hands on the walls. Before he can do or say anything, the floor beneath him suddenly disappears. He yells out, drawing the attention of the group.

"Alex!" I scream out. I look at the boys before making a decision. "We have to jump down after him!"

"Are you crazy?" Clay says in attempt to stop me.

I let out a nervous breath. "You know what... I think I am." I jump down after him, hearing my name being called after me but only seeing darkness.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 30

Calix and Circe transported them to Auradon Prep where the bright light enemated from the balcony where only two years ago, Ben had made his proclamation that changed everything. Guards were unconscious on the ground and others were running towards the villages, away from the sword, and the quartet that Jordan could see were watching the chaos. Wait there wasn’t a quartet? There were five. Morgana had joined them.

Ben was outside as well with FG, Mal, Jane, Carlos, Evie and Lonnie, and the young king was frantically talking to the guard who was stammering so hard he wasn’t making any sense.

“Ma-Maleficent is back. The dragon is here! She torched a house. We got it out in time but she put a house on fire! We all have to go right away!” And the guard ran from his king’s side, barking orders and running backwards till he tripped over a stone.

“I’ll go stop her,” Mal volunteered with Evie nodding at her side. “I’ll help too,” Celia popped up with several of Uma’s crew members that Jordan never bothered to learn their names.

Ben looked frazzled but his voice was anything but. “Mal, you, Evie, Celia and FG go find your mother. The guard said she was heading toward Aurora’s castle.”

“Jay, Uma, um Jay’s relative I’m guessing, and Jordan, you can go to Jafar. I’m not sure where he is but Circe can transport you there.” “Lonnie, Aziz, Cosette, Circe, Carlos and I will go against Nerissa and Lady Caine. They went to my parent’s home. Now go go go!”

Jordan allowed Aziz to wish her group to transport to Jafar who apparently hadn’t gotten very far as he was striding through the woods of Charmingburg.

And thanks to magic’s unsubtlty, Jafar noticed them all immediately when they fell in a circle around him.

Though he was surrounded, Jafar merely cackled, training his eyes on his son.

“Ssssson, I wasssss wondering when you’d arrive,” Jafar hissed, his snake tongue flicking in and out.

The black sheen of his robe turned dull, stretching longer and longer as his legs disappeared into a reptilian coil of a snake tail.

Jafar’s eyes turned red, his nose flattened disappearing into a cobra snout and his turban fell apart to reveal his flaring hood.

And just like in the stories, he was no average snake, but one as large as a dragon. His tail boomed as he slapped it down, causing them all to fall to their knees.

“You were ssssuch a disssaapointment. You weren’t ssssnakey enough like me.” Jafar crowed, before his human speech was lost entirely and his eyes lost their red. They turned black as his gleaming scales, and he rose to the height of the trees.

It was possible the cobra senses would overwhelm Jafar’s human brain, and they could try to catch it like they would a regular one but Jordan had some doubts. This cobra was intently staring at Jay, his head following Jay’s movements when the teen swayed to the left or right.

Jafar was silent, a sign that he was waiting to strike, and from the way Jay balanced on the balls of his feet, it was clear he knew it too.

But since Jafar was focused Jay…

Uma made a point to make eye contact with each of them, tilting her head to the snake and tapping at the sword on her sheath, indicating they should jump on him while he was distracted.

She whistled, signalling for them to jump but that only brought Jafar’s attention to them. Since snakes did not have good eyesight, he turned to face Jade instead of Uma who emitted the sound, but that was distraction enough for Jay.

He clambered up a tree and jumped onto Jafar’s hood, riding the cobra like a rodeo clown, he held on with one hand while punching him with the other. The cobra thrashed and they took their chance to hit it. Uma pounded against the torso with her sword even though it barely made a dent. No results but Jafar tried to coil away while bucking his head to remove Jay.

Jade began to clamber up Jafar’s back too, acting as another annoying pest for the snake to try to thrash around and get rid of.

And Jordan stood there, wishing that her powers allowed her to attack other humans instead of being forced to wait for someone to wish her to do so.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t change the environment a little.

She concentrated, imagining the taste of the gritty particles sand caught in her mouth, the painful pricks of never-ending assult of a sandstorm swirling around, and she visualized it to reality. She aimed the mini sandstorm to Jafar’s eyes, blinding him.

The snake flailed hitting a tree, and falling to his side. Several trees fell around them and Jordan spotted Uma in the line of one.

“Watch out!” She screamed, the urgency giving wings to her feat as she shoved the blue-braided girl out of the way. The splintered wood and green shubbery showering them with spears to the arms and face. A little rough but not as bad as the sound of a sickening crunch would have been.

Jay was standing on the ground now as the cobra began to shrink in size for no apparent reason. Jordan doubted a punch would be enough to magic out. But she sensed a change in the air.

The air crackled with electricity even though there was no lightning in the sky. The air felt thin, and she could see from the grimaces on Jade and Uma’s faces that it was affecting them though they tried not to show it.

Jafar was changing back to a human, but not the slender viziar whose luxurious robes overcompensated his lank figure. He was squant and bot-bellied dressed in pajamas. The one feather in his turban was frayed. Jafar looked down at himself, scraping out the dulled ruby in his turban to shake it angrily, “What happened to me!? My powers!”

Jay stared at him, barely restrained anger and disappointment were evident in his voice, “Nothing happened to you. This is how you always were. You have no power or skills of your own. You are lazy and selfish. The only power you had came from others like genies and your staff, and me doing all the work for you. And you lost all of it because you were always greedy for more. I’m not snakey like you, and that makes me better than you would ever be with all the power in the world.”

Jafar looked stunned, not even noticing Uma hauling him up to his feet and tying his hands behind his back with her belt, “But Morgana said… Jay?”

Jay began walking to the palace, refusing you to look behind him at the sad sack of a villain. “You are such a disappointment, Dad.”

They walked in silence back to Auradon Prep, Uma wasn’t even bothering to interrogate Jafar what he meant about Morgana. The mood was too somber for that as was the tension radiating off Jay who kept walking stiffily forward.

They arrived at the entrance where the others with similarly defeated and sluggish looking Maleficent, Lady Caine and Nerissa.

Uma handed Jafar over to FG who tied the four villains together with another magical bundle of pumpkin vines which she, Jane, Carlos and Evie took to the dungeon carriage with Harry, Gil and Cosette acting as the muscle in case the villains tried to do anything.

The remaining people looked up at the five on the balcony who seemed to be in a discussion of some sort.

“So we’re all in agreement that they’re behind this,” Mal nodded toward the mini Coven.

“Jafar said something about Morgana in relation to his powers.” Uma informed.

“Lady Caine mentioned something about how this is Morgana’s and her welp’s fault. I knew Morgaine was behind this.” Ben growled, some of his inner beastly side emerging though he cleared his throat and seemed to clamp it down.

At that moment, as if summoned by their discussion, Morgana, Morgaine, Kyro and Victoria appeared beside them.

“Wow, that was-that was bad but good thing my mother double crossed those bad guys by pretending to be on their side.” Morgaine said in a overly gushing as if she said it movingly enough, it would make her sound sincere.

Morgana smiled at her daughter’s compliment, undaunted by the unbelieving glares of the group looking at her. “That’s right. I was double crossing the Coven, and Lady Caine here. I knew about their plan to invade Auradon so I put myself in their good graces, and when these four managed to escape, I gave them this power jewel,” She plucked a ruby from Jafar’s turban, “It strengthens their magic, but gives me the control to shut it off. You’re welcome.”

Ben just stared. Jordan was surprised by how blank he looked like he just went from numb from the audacity of this women to lie so bluntly to their faces and present herself as a hero.

Luckily, Mal and Uma had no problem tearing down Morgana’s words.

“Uh yeah, no thank you. You’re going to join them in the Isle where you belong.” Mal cried.

“You’re no hero. You put the Isle and Auradon in danger for your own selfish wants.” Uma said.

“We’re trying to save Auradon, we’re trying to close the barrier. Alexandria is up there, trying to figure it out right now,” Victoria insisted.

“The glowy white beam you created says otherwise,” Mal retorted.

While the three teens looked away, Kyro in particular was pouting, Morgana remained calm.

Nonchalantly, as if they were talking about the weather she said, “We didn’t plan for it all to come this. But if the king won’t accept us as heroes and agree to our demands… we should get a new king.”

Morgana and Morgaine’s hands began to glow the mystical blue glow that was unique to Camelot’s sorcerers.

Kyro shrank to his normal fairy size, and Victoria unsheathed her own sword, clearly taken from one of the Royal Guard.

Morgana striked first, sending a blue ball of power at Ben’s heart which Circe blocked with a magical shield.

The threat seemed to snap everyone out of their shock.

Kyro buzzed around Ben, and Mal who tried to catch him with their hands but were pushed away by the shock of Kyro blowing flames at them. The fay was the son of a dragon after all. Mal transformed into a dragon herself to combat his flames with her much larger green. Ben tried to hold her back, “No, Mal, he’s a fairy, you’ll crisp him! And guys, careful with Victoria she is under mind control.”

“I’ll try. No promises.” Jay grunted as he pressed his back against his cousin as he sparred with Victoria who had been training for her dream goal to be a royal guard for ten years compared to Jay’s year of R.O.A.R. swordfighting.

He switched off with Jade who threw a sword to Lala who covered her back with Aziz, surrounding Victoria in a four way sword fight.

As Circe and Morgana faced off, Calix threw magic spell after magic spell at Morgaine, batting lines about his “poor broken heart” and how dare she not mention that she was an evil sorceress while they were sleeping together. The irrelevant comments clearly annoyed the teenage sorcereress who was trying to keep up her serious bad girl sorcerer vibe.

Jordan was about to jump in to help with Kyro when lighting cracked above them. Winds that wre blowing steadily suddenly turned rough,disturbing the fight with flyaway banners and broken tree branches. A storm was swirling above them and it was gaining the ferocity of a hurricane.

Jordan looked to Uma who didn’t have a specific sparring partner either and went to her, “We need to get to the balcony, it’s the source of the magic, come on.”

They burst through the halls where students were confusedly peeking out to see what was going on outside but the two ignored. They ran through Ben’s office to window but it was blocked by a magic barrier.

Uma was about to try to fight against it with her sword but Jordan placed a hand on her arm, “I can handle this. Phenomenal cosmic powers after all.”

She closed her eyes and pushed, feeling the strength of a brick and iron wall pushing against her magic but she kept going. She felt the solid barrier pressing against her whole body, giving her a migraine as she pushed forward. Pushed as if she was trying to blend into the wall. Pushed until she heard the crack.

She nearly fell over as the magic shield fell, and the two girls cautiously stepped onto the balcony.

But Alexandria wasn’t there.

Leaves swirled around, but there was no sign of the mermaid princess. Just a chalice filled with blood and the levitating sword of Camelot, glowing and pointing at the Isle where more clouds gathered and darkened.

Uma tried to lift it, muscles straining and cheeks puffing but it wouldn’t budge.

Only the one true king or powerful magic could move it.

Jordan tried her hand, but one touch of the iron burnt her palms and burned through her veins. Gasping she fell to the floor, shaking from the pain of it.

They were good, the sword must be connected to the Mini Coven if the blood chalice indicated anything.

Uma looked and dumped the chalice on the ground, waiting for the spilt blood to affect the sword somehow but it continued levitating.

Jordan stared, though the wind was blurring her eyesight, and patted her hands on her pants in an effort to cool the burns, but nothing came to her mind.

Allah, she wished they could get the sword to move itself. Or wish that the mini Coven would just be defeated or….

And just like Celia’s plan to play the Coven off one another, the idea was simple but obvious.

“You have to make a wish,” Jordan yelled over the blowing wind, spitting out the hair that whipped into her mouth and muffled her words.

“What?” Uma yelled, trying to cover her ears and lean closer to hear.

“Wish! Wish me to transfer the power, or get rid of the sword or anything!” Jordan yelled again, pointing at the sword than at the lamp in her hands that was threatening to get swept up in the wind.

Uma’s eyes widened as she took in Jordan’s words and previously Jordan would have seen a wicked gleam in them. But she didn’t. Maybe it was there, maybe it wasn’t, but she was trying to trust people’s best intentions. And if Uma had proven anything, she was a woman of her word.

Uma grasped the lamp, and rubbed, and Jordan felt the connecting touch of rubbing hands on her wrist. The tingle filled her as Uma’s wish got lost in the wind.

The sword disappeared in a poof of pink smoke. Lightning crackled and the barrier returned in a bowl of gleaming light. Rising back over the Isle.

Another poof of smoke and a team trident appeared in Uma’s hands, dripping with salt water and tangled with kelp but the smile that glowed on Uma’s face almost made up for the salty smell.

Uma lifted her mighty weapon up and the storm began to funnel, the clouds and lighting began to twist and shape into a funnel right into Uma’s trident.

For everyone knew, tridents were descended of Poisidon. God of sea and storms.

The winds ceased and moonlight glowed from the sky.

And Uma beamed in triumph.

That smile, for the first time, made Jordan glad she granted a wish. It was a selfless one but the pure joy that shined from her made Jordan happy with her power. That she could bring happiness to people without it being at the expense of herself.

Thinking about her powers this way, she could accept it. If she gave her wishes to certain people, she could bring some good to the world. A little bit of happiness or wonderment, giving something that someone longed desired but did not believe to exist. Much like genies themselves.

Maybe she wouldn’t be following the fate of so many djinn before her. Not if she chose who to give wishes to, she would finally be in control, the control she always felt she lacked as a slave to her lamp. She wouldn’t be degraded, not if she reclaimed this for herself.

Control and freedom of choice. The two greatest drugs to a genie.

Jordan began to beam herself, her smile fueled by relief and certainty that things would turn out alright, reflecting Uma’s as she made her last wish.

“I wish to be where Alexandria is.”

A swirl of smoke and sparkle and they were gone.

And rather ungracefully deposited at Alexandria’s feet.

Alexandria was in the museum, sneaking through the exhibit of a replica of Snow White’s house, tear stained and clutching Triton’s trident.

“Alexandria,” Jordan called, remembering Ben’s words, “It’s okay. It’s okay, we closed down the barrier, and Morgana will be hauled away. Whatever control she has over you is going to be over. Just come here and we’ll help.” “It’s over?” Alexandria questioned, inching backwards, “It’s- Morgana’s captured? Wait Ben won?”

The girl turned even paler if that was possible, but her dark brown framing her white face made her look like Snow White herself surrounded by the fake forest background.

“Yes, it’s fine. The heroes won.” Jordan said softly, holding out her hand as if Alexandria was a nervous tiger and she was trying to win her trust.

Uma stepped forward, putting her trident but did not set it down, “You’re not under Morgana’s control are you? This- this invasion was an idea you helped with.” “No, that’s impos-” Jordan was about to argue when she saw Alexandria slowly nod.

“You teamed up with the villains.” Uma said, more to herself as if she was trying to piece it together, but Alexandria didn’t let her continue.

She charged but Uma was ready. She held her trident up and two crashed with a clang. Uma’s feet slid backwards but her upper body remained steady as she struggled against Alexandria.

Alexandria was blinded by emotion and it showed in her sloppy fighting skills, repeatedly lunging forward in stabbing motions with no mind to deviate from what she was doing.

Uma was skilled and she easily feigned right and left, locking her prongs with Alexandria’s until the trident slipped from her grasp with a clatter.

Alexandria stared at her fallen trident and reluctantly fell to her knees, holding her hands out in front of her so they could tie them together, sobbing all the while.

But Uma did not move to contain her. Instead he went to her knees, and waited until Alexandria lifted her head.

Once she had her attention, “Why did you do it?”

It was soft, non-judgemental but also curious as if Uma really wanted to know.

“No was going to get hurt,” Alexandria murmured, wiping away bit of hair that got into her mouth, “I-That was my condition. We- we just wanted to show that things in Auradon needed to change.” “What things?” Uma questioned.

“Everything,” Alexandria sputtered, trying to search for words, “The uniting of kingdoms, the magic ban, everything. Auradon likes to pretend everyone is the same and perfect and in harmony but it’s not!”

“It was stupid to unite the kingdoms all under King Beast. He doesn’t know what each kingdom needs. Neither does Ben. And having an Auradon-wide election for Atlantica’s queen? That’s not fair. Everyone in Atlantica voted for my mother because she trained for it her whole life, she knows what to do. And everyone else in Auradon voted for Aunt Ariel because she’s popular. She doesn’t even live in Atlantica anymore! She helps Uncle Eric’s kingdom, how in the seven seas does that makes sense or is considered a proper decision. Now Atlantica is a polluted dump but no one cares as long as those land dwellers get their underwater vacations!” “Auradon failed you,” Uma said matter of factly.

“And the Magic Ban, it hurts.” Alexandria gasped, “It just hurts. Everytime I have to return to the surface from Atlantica I have to get used to breathing this suffocating and air and the feeling of my legs being stabbed when I walk. And for what? So I can be like the other land royals and attend Auradon. Why do I have to accommodate them? Why can’t they accommodate me instead? That’s why Morgana, Kyro and I teamed up. We wanted to defeat the villains ourselves and show that-that magic can be good. Our magic is needed to fight magical enemies. It’s not bad. We shouldn’t have to deny the magic that is part of us.”

Jordan nodded sagely, bending down to her knees like Uma so she could be at Alexandria’s level, “I completely agree with you… But why did Victoria join?”

“Because if King Beast was wrong about the uniting of kingdoms and the Magic Ban, he’s also wrong about the Isle. Putting all the villains in one Isle just across from us was a mistake, and Victoria thought it was a mistake to bring Vks over too. That Auradon allowed too much time for them to stew and resent us so they should be cut off completely.”

Uma didn’t bristle at Alexandria’s words like Jordan expected her to. In fact her face didn’t change from her look. Her look was one of total empathy, that she was really listening to what Alexandria was saying.

“We- we- I just thought that if we allowed the villains to get in, we would show all the holes in King Beast’s decisions and maybe things would change.” Uma stood up to her full height, “Even though this hasn’t worked out how you planned, your stunt did make a difference. Things are gonna change around here.”

With one hand regally holding the trident, Uma held out her free hand to Alexandria, offering to help her get up. Alexandria sniffed and accepted it.

Once they placed Triton’s trident back on the mantle, the trio walked outside where things had calmed down considerably since they left.

Morgana and Morgaine were handcuffed unconscious on the ground. FG had returned with the dungeon carriage and Gil was now leading a handcuffed Victoria into the cart as Gil picked up the handcuffed sorceress. Jane placed Kyro, trapped inside a lantern, blowing flames futility against the glass.

Alexandria’s eyes widened at the sight of her defeated companions but Uma whispered reassuringly in her ear, “You’re not going to the dungeon. I’ll vouch for you.” Alexandria gave a wary nod, squaring her shoulders as she walked on her own accord, dignified as she could, into the dungeon carriage.

Ben and the others came up to them, sweating but victorious smiles were plastered on their faces.

“I see we have you to thank, Uma,” Ben slightly bowed to the sea witch. He held up her hand, “To Uma, the hero and savior of Auradon! And my new coordinator for VK relocation!”

Harry, Gil and the other Vks whooped and cheered which Jordan couldn’t help but join in.

It was over, it was actually over. The month and a half of grime and anxiety and fear for the inevitable was finally over. She could kiss the ground. But she didn’t, she still had a rep.

The less enthusiastic people of the group were Mal, and her friends who reluctantly clapped, surprised that their old rival was now a hero but that did little to dampen the mood as Harry and Gil lifted Uma up on their shoulders.

“Thank you.” Uma beamed, “Your Auradonian “heroes” were helpful too. Especially your former leader. I couldn’t have saved the day without her help.” Jordan covered her mouth to muffle the shocked squeak that came out of it as everyone turned to stare and clap for her.

She almost couldn’t believe her eyes but it was happening. At least a dozen faces were staring at her with pride and happiness, and absolutely no twinkles in their eye, signifying interior motives or greed emerging. They were clapping for her because she was a hero.

A warm feeling of pride, pride in herself bloomed in her chest and she felt her eyes sting from how overwhelmed she was of it all, but she did her best to hold it back because Allah knew Aziz would tease her about it forever. She just managed a whispered “Thank you,” coughing to clear the choked up emotion.

Once Harry and Gil set Uma down, and everyone got to crowding around and talking about their own experiences, Jordan crept up to Uma. She paused for a minute, watching as Uma took a quiet moment to herself, breathing it, still smiling broadly at everything that she had accomplished.

When Uma turned to face Harry, Jordan tapped her on the shoulder.

“Um, uhI-I just wanted to thank you for what you just said. It’s so sweet of you to thank me and call me a hero. You don’t know how much it-”

Uma backed away from Jordan a bit as she reached her arms out for a hug, “No, no. It wasn’t anything special. I was giving credit where credit was due. I really wouldn’t have been able to do it if you hadn’t made the right decision and made me your leader or if you hadn’t given me the three wishes today.”

Jordan put her hands back down to her side, trying to keep herself from hugging out of appreciation for something that was no big deal to Uma, “Still.. Thanks! Thanks so much.”

Uma nodded, “You’re welcome,” and she was swept up into her own hug with Gil and an enthusiastic kiss from her first mate.

Jordan, herself, was nearly bowled over from a hug from the behind, “Laqad faealnaha!” (We did it!)

Jordan laughed at Aziz’s loving attack, “Bialtaakid nahn faealna! Kanat mudahasha!” (Of course we did! We’re amazing!)

“So I guess we celebrate now,” Mal said once some of the buzzing excitement died down.

“No, it’s not time for celebration. We have work to do. As we agreed upon Ben.” Uma smirked as she nodded to Ben who sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

“We made a deal.”

“Someone should go back to the Isle and alert people what's happening,” Evie said.

“Don’t worry, I planned for that too,” Uma said.

“She’s a goddess,” Harry breathed, his eyes following Uma as she, Ben, Mal and Evie headed to the castle.

Circe, Jay, Carlos, FG and the others began to clean up the debris and guide the defeated villains to the guard’s dungeon carriage that had strolled up.

And the sun began to rise.

“Huh no party,” Calix looked around at the cleaning up committee.

“I like it,” Jordan said, smiling at the newly formed camraderie as Jay introduced his cousin to Carlos, Lonnie and Jane. Cosette and Gil were hugging and talking things out. And Circe, Aziz and Lala continued cleaning up with murmered comments between them.

“After all, every fairytale ends with a party and music and celebration. This- We’re all about subverting the tropes.” Jordan said, more than happy that this was all over and that she got to comment on her favorite thing, story tropes.

“You got that right,” Calix fist-bumped her.

[levi-robbed-my-tea-cupboard]

Rating: Teen And Up

Relationships: Hange/Levi, pure pre-Levihan

Words: 2176

Additional Tags: as Levi would say - shitload of them

Summary: Levi wakes up from a nap at the airport to discover someone’s pressed to him and won’t let go.

Written for Levihan Eggschange 2020 organised by @levihanweek ♥

Happy reading to my giftee and I only hope they will be able to find it ^_^

You can also read the fic under the cut, but if you have no problem with ao3 I recommend reading there cause I edit with ao3 in mind and it probably looks better there ;>

Stranger Snuggle

Everything was against him.

The burn in his thighs, the late sunshine blinding his eyes, the dirt on the streets making his smart shoes slide with every second step, the wheels of his suitcase, surly damned by now as he was pulling them after himself through all the curbs, his breath heavy when he suddenly stopped, knowing he wouldn’t make it on time. Everything. Fuck!

Levi kicked the automatic door moving apart in what must have been slow motion, because no fucking way it was their average speed. A security guard took a step in his direction but Levi’s one pissed glance made him stop and he entered the airport unbothered.

Holly fucking shit!

He came just in time to see his flight disappear from the departures board and the anti-burglar blinds go down in most of the stores, accompanying his misfortune. Taking deep breaths to calm down a little he went to the coffee shop in the middle of the hall, in which two workers were still hanging around, and glanced yearningly at the empty food display. At least he’d get himself something warm to drink, he thought, before the coffee shop staff informed him they had already cleaned everything and were as good as closed.

Fucking perfect.

Hungry, thirsty, exhausted from running and even more annoyed then a while ago, Levi sat on the nearest couch, clearly belonging to the coffee shop, and gave the workers another glare, making sure none of them would dare to protest. He took out his laptop and, cursing the too slow airport Wi-Fi everything he had in his rich shit-talking inventory, he booked the nearest flight home. The price was another thing to put him down, knowing he wouldn’t get a refund, not after spectacularly messing up his task. His next flight was at five in the morning, so in eight hours.

Eight hours for which Levi wouldn’t dare to go to the hotel by the airport because, one, he wouldn’t give himself a single credit he wouldn’t oversleep and miss yet another flight, and two, after wasting so much money on a flight alone he kinda shouldn’t be spending more, not yet.

So yep, he was going to wait there the six hours or so before he’d be able to check in, get rid of his luggage and eat something in the departure longue, since everything in the open space closed. Had he already though how fucked up things were?

It wasn’t fine but he tried to convince himself it was and not to think about coming work late and sleep deprived, straight from the plane, and alone. Fucking co-workers who not only didn’t show up to their meeting the scheduled time but didn’t show up at all, fuck them! He tried to ignore his empty stomach and the chill on his skin that he felt once he rested a little after his run. The little bit of sweat cooled him unpleasantly. The burn in his things was almost imperceptible as he was sitting, but the tired muscles were slowly sabotaging him and lulling his brain to give them a rest and sleep. Just fall asleep on the soft coach, which Levi was refusing to do, and the thought of all the people before him that must have been sitting there, sleeping maybe, half of them probably just as gross as he felt at the moment, was doing a great job in keeping him sober.

The crowds were thinning with time passing, as only a few planes were leaving at night, and the noise turned into a nearly silence, with the buzz of ventilation somewhere at the side of Levi’s consciousness, ASMR-like almost, and…

……zzZZ

Levi thought that his pillow felt weirdly scratchy tonight. As if it wasn’t his pillow but one of the cushions from…

Oh, no.

He jerked up, remembering where he was and that sleeping there was absolutely unacceptable. Or rather he tried to jerk up, because there was something heavy pressing him to the side of the coach. Something hard and, to give it justice, probably being what kept him warm, because he didn’t feel the chilliness anymore.

Levi opened his eyes, expecting to see the hall crowded and someone, just like him, accidentally falling asleep next to him, but no. Except for a few people whose silhouettes he could notice on the far away, uncomfortable chairs, and probably the security guards luring somewhere in the dark, it was almost empty! So why, the fuck, someone decided to treat him like a human pillow rather than sit… Well, anywhere else.

“Tsk.” Levi snorted and tried to push the person apart, but instead they murmured something in their sleep and… Did they just slipped an arm behind his back? Ugh! Levi tried to wriggle a little, but all it caused was making the other one clutch closer, as if they were afraid their only source of warmth was going to escape.

Resigned, Levi looked around himself, noticing what in the dimmed light seemed to be a particularly used up and over-packed backpack with what should be an illegal amount of pins. Would they even be allowed into a plane with those? He took a look at the person by his side, now literally hugging him, which, while annoying him, was making him warmish and sleepy again. But the closer look was exactly what he needed to wake his normal reactions just a little bit, and he started to realise this was not good.

The backpacker kept half of his hair in a messy ponytail, the other half was almost covering their face, only a prominent nose was sticking out from the kind of greasy strands of hair. Yuk! Looking further down their body, which Levi couldn’t decide whether was female or male, he saw a giant, knitted sweater reaching half their tight, skinny jeans and…

Aaaaaaaah! There was a hole in their sock!

“Hey! Wake up!” He couldn’t take it anymore, seriously, the hole was too disturbing. “Come one, you filthy sleepyhead, I’m not a free mattress, shit!” Levi eventually managed to push them away, making them fall onto the other side of the coach, and he could see the front of their sweater that they were pressing to him looked like it had a particularly close contact with mud. Or something even worse.

Being pushed onto their back must have woken them up, because they yawned heavily and stretched.

“Is it morning already?” They asked, and Levi thought, judging from their voice rather than the slim build, that it was a woman. Because whom was he to judge people by their body build, nevermind that thought actually…

“No. But you’ve fallen asleep on me of all people, and I was concerned.” Levi said.

The woman looked at him as if Levi’s words didn’t make much sense and Levi saw the biggest, shiniest eyes he’d ever seen. Which was another thought he’d rather not have... Luckily for him, or maybe not so luckily, he was too tired to decide, the sight lasted only a glimpse, because she squinted.

“Where are my glasses?” She murmured, palpating through the coach.

Levi didn’t answer to that, more and more irritated with every passing second and slowly coming to the sober realisation that he’d been just chosen by this crazy, dirty backpacker. Maybe she didn’t stink, by judging by her looks she hadn’t seen a shower for a while now either. Disgusting. And who knew what else was on her mind, and what she was hiding in the backpack.

Eventually she found the glasses somewhere behind her and looked at him again, this time focused.

“You look annoyed.” She said. As if it was his fault. As if he was the weird one here, damn it!

“What a surprise.” Levi hissed, grabbed his suitcase and went to the other side of the coffee shop, the broken wheels creaking behind him. He could swear the weirdo was staring after him.

He barely sit on another coach when the woman came after him and sat, to Levi’s please on a separate armchair.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked back, as if it wasn’t absolutely obvious.

“Of course not, why would I be?” He said. Maybe it was his voice that he’d been told many times wasn’t the best to carry over his emotions, or the woman was just so dumb, because she seemed unaffected by his sarcasm.

“Good.” She said. “I was afraid you were.” She leaned to her backpack, causing in Levi an instant agitation, but when she opened it she took out… A thermos? She put in on a table between them and searched deeper, this time taking out two cups, and handing Levi one of them once she filled them. “I brought tea.” This, obviously, drew Levi’s attention.

Whatever was in his cup, it didn’t smell like tea. It didn’t smell like anything he could think of and he looked sceptically at the weird woman, but she took a big sip and smiled, so he decided to risk a sip too. It was hot, fruity, sweet and disgusting, but having nothing in his mouth since lunch he decided he shouldn’t complain. They were sipping for a while in silence when Levi’s empty stomach made a particularly loud noise and he felt hotness on his face, because this sounded more like…

“Oh, I have food too!” The woman said, because that was how weird hippie people were, Levi thought, and didn’t have power to protest when she offered him half of her sandwich that, unlike the disgusting crime against tea, was fine. He ate it in silence, still not sure how he ended up in this situation, and feeling awkward as he didn’t know what to say other than “thanks”. But the woman didn’t seem bothered, packed the thermos and cups back, and smiled.

“So…” she said “…when’s out next flight?”

The fuck what? If Levi was still sipping the gross tea, he’d choke.

“Our next flight?” Or rather just: “Next flight?”

“Yeah?” The woman said, looking at him the same way she did the first time, without glasses. “We missed the first one, didn’t we?”

“We?”

We?

We!

And that lead him to the terrible realisation.

“Are you Hange then?”

“Yes?” She said, now looking really concerned, as if Levi was particularly stupid. “Wait a minute.” She said, and her eyes widened, the clearly indication that up until this moment she’d been convinced Levi knew who she was. “You didn’t recognise me.” She said.

“How the fuck could I recognize you if it’s the first time I see you? You didn’t show up to the meeting!” He heard his own voice slightly going up. The fuck? The shit was happening here?!

“I had to do something before leaving, I thought you’d wait for me, sorry.” Hange said, not sounding sorry for slightest.

“You thought I’d wait for you three hours?”

“Well…”

“Forget it. How did you know how I looked like anyway?” He asked, because that, if anything, was concerning. She shouldn’t have.

“I searched it.” Hange shrugged, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the word. She searched him. No matter how little he was supposed to know about her, he started getting an idea anyway. There must have been a reason she wasn’t just flying on her own and Levi was probably just the closest to fucking up he’d ever been. Absolutely fucking fantastic!

He took out his laptop again to buy another ticket for Hange for the same flight and he could feel her eyes on himself while he was clicking, as if she was trying to decide something.

“So when you woke up next to me you must have thought I was a complete stranger!” She said eventually.

“Yes.” He said slowly.

"And that I was some kind of a weird psycho."

"Yes." Levi repeated, not sure what the was was for.

Hange chuckled.

“I’m glad you don’t think that anymore.”

Levi mover his eyes from the screen to her.

“And what makes you think I don’t?” He asked, and rose an eyebrow. “Because normal people usually molest those they see for the first time to show they’re what? Friendly?”

“I didn’t molest you!” Hange protested, but her outrage was made up.

“Oh, no. No! You only trapped me in my sleep and didn’t want to let go. That’s a completely different thing! Thanks for making me realise!”

“Don’t be so dramatic! We’re assigned to each other for three years, you’d have to get used to it anyway. I had to do that to make sure you wouldn’t go somewhere when I was sleeping, what’s the big deal?”

Levi looked at her sceptically.

“I’m not paid to be your pillow.” It’s gonna be long three years, he didn’t say out loud.

“And?”

“You could at least wash your hair! When was the last time you did that?”

“Does that matter?” She asked, confused. “Cause I don’t think I remember.”

Three very, very long years…

[starlighttaek8]

Redamancy

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Fluff. Just Super Fluff.

Plot Summary: This is a sequel to my other story, Untitled. I guess you don’t HAVE to read it, but this story will be able to be understood better if you do.

So, this is just a really fluffy Yoongi x reader story, with a lot of cute moments. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Him.

You had just met up with Seokjin and his wife. 

Tragic really, he was your first love and to see him married and with a child will always hurt. 

That nagging voice, toxic in nature, always in the back of your mind, plaguing your thoughts of how to rip and shred and cause havoc just to make him yours. 

Thankfully, these intrusive thoughts were only a very small piece of your mind and as you left the coffee shop that day, you couldn't help but be proud of yourself for how much you have grown as a person.

Although you have always been a more in your head person, a person whose world is so internally focused, you should really focus on what is right in front of you.

Especially when you walk out the door of the coffee shop right as another person walks in. 

The surprise collision also made you spill your coffee, all over this person's, objectively nice, sans coffee, dress pants and shoes.

"I'm so sorry!" You exclaim, rushing back into the shop to get some napkins.

"I'm really such a clutz, I'm always in my head, please forgive me!" You rush out, practically begging for this stranger's forgiveness although he had yet to speak. 

"Erm.. It's okay." He responded, shock from having hot coffee spilled all over his ankles substantially subsided.

You looked up and you admit, you were startled at his appearance.

He was quite handsome, bleached blonde hair falling lightly over his forehead. His eyes were the second thing you noticed, the intensity of the brown irises not one that you could soon forget.

Min Yoongi.

At the discovery of the identity of the person in front of you, once you had finished cleaning off his pants the best you could, you slowly stood up to meet him.

"Min Yoongi?"

"Um.. Yes, have we met?"

"Well... Not officially. I've been Seokjin's friend since we were little. He would occasionally talk of his friends and point them out to me."

"And you remembered me?"

"Well... Yes. I may be clumsy with my feet, but I usually never forget a name or face."

There was a reason why you didn't forget his face in particular though.

He was the only other one, besides Jin, that would have let you play with them. 

Occasionally, as the rest of the class was walking inside, he would look at the drawings you made in the dirt, and give you a tiny grin.

Then there was that one time where most of their friend group had gotten sick from the nasty germs that infested the public schools. 

This time, it wasn't a tiny grin as you drew intricate designs in the sand.

This time, he picked up his own stick, and as you drew, he drew. 

While your designs were more freeform, circular, wavy, carefree, his were angular, calculated. Each line he drew complimented yours, with the both of them creating a beautiful pattern in the sand.

Neither of you talked during this experience, two silent people drawing shapes in the ground.

As the bell rang, and the teacher started gathering kids to go back inside, you shared a small smile with him, as newly kindred spirits and went back inside.  

That same moment never happened again. 

5 months later and just as school was ending, you overheard that his parents were getting divorced. He was going to live with his father, about 3 hours away.

Until now, you never saw him again.

But then was then, and now is now, and seeing his older, yet still youthful features grace your eyes once more sent a small smile to your face.

"Well, color me impressed then. Are you in a hurry?" 

"Erm.. No, I'm not, I just.., I just met with Seokjin, his wife, and their new daughter. We haven't seen each other in a good 5 years."

"Wow, so it's been a while. Are they still here?"

"No, they left just about 10 minutes ago, Seokjin mentioned something about a pediatrician appointment. Are you sure you're okay? Um, I can buy you a coffee as an apology, if you want..," you offer, still embarrassed as you look at the mess you made on his nice pants.

"Oh... Yeah," he snickers softly, "I'm fine, these things happen, but if you don't mind, since I was the one who interrupted your thinking process, I could get you a new cup of coffee, and we could catch up a bit. You know, since you're not in a hurry and all."

Having an actual conversation with him was different.

When you were kids, the only conversation you had was the unspoken kind, the kind that only kindred, creative, quiet minds could have. 

But as you spoke with him that afternoon, you realized just how much you both were alike, and just how much you were different.

You shared a lot of the same interests. He had studied Music in university, you liked music, liked being a term that did not, in any way, describe your love for it. 

Music, to you, was another form of life in and of itself. Another plane of existence so to speak. 

It was vibrant, it flowed, each musical note a new wave in the air, perfectly differing from the note before it, creating chords, symphonies, tying in all that mattered in the world into neat little waves of sound. Each note had a life of its own, but only with the other notes did it have true meaning, only with the other notes was it able to become true music to your ears.

That's how spending time with Yoongi was. 

After your impromptu coffee shop date, you both exchanged contact information, and as soon as you arrived home that night, a small buzz accompanied by a picture of Yoongi greeted you.

As time went on, you were able to get to know Yoongi better. You often hung around the same coffee shop that you met at, and you could already feel a small twinge of something in your heart. 

The first time you held hands with him you weren't sure you should count, as it was, much like many things that you did, purely on accident. 

It had been precisely a week since you two exchanged numbers at the coffee shop, and you had already arranged to meet each other for dinner. 

There was something about not only the way you met all those years ago, but also, Yoongi realized from the short conversation you had shared over coffee that there was something special about you, from the way that you frequently spaced out into your own thoughts, as if your inner mind was a much more interesting place than anything the outside world had to offer, to the way that you got so excited when you saw a cute puppy across the street that you just about ran into traffic in an effort to get to it.

The way you started to take steps off the sidewalk alerted him immediately, and he took hold of your hand, barely saving you from a car speeding past you, and bringing you back into the safety of the sidewalk, and coincidentally right against his chest. 

As you looked up at him from his embrace, you could see the panicked look in his eyes and the short breaths that escaped his lungs in small puffs, visible due to the chilly weather. 

From that moment on, he didn't let go of your hand, claiming "I can't lose you because you get distracted by a butterfly and decide to get yourself killed by traipsing through fast traffic."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As said before, many things in your life happened by accident, both good and bad. 

Two months after the hand holding incident, something else happened. 

Accidents happen, you understand that, but why of all the accidents did it have to be this.

"...and that's why Jin has a short scar on his hand."

"Oh my goodness! Yoongi!" You laughed as he told you some of the things that happened in your elementary years, bonding over nostalgic times.

This conversation happened on a phone, one night where you hadn't been able to see him all day, as was the same with most days, but  you didn't know how such an average day could turn into a special one. 

"Anyways, it was really nice catching up with you, I feel like we haven't seen each other in weeeeeks!" Yoongi said, making you both laugh a little bit.

"I know! But that's probably because it has been. We've both been rather busy lately. I should probably let you go now. It's 2 am and I have to be up in 5 hours."

"Alright, well then sleep well!"

You don't know what possessed you to say what you said next.

"Alright thanks! Goodnight! Love you!"

As soon as you pushed end, you flew into a self-deprecating swirl of a human.

"WHAT DID I JUST DO? DID I REALLY JUST SAY LOVE YOU?" You thought out loud before collapsing on your bed, face down onto your pillow, not caring if your mascara stained your pillowcase.

*buzzzzzzz* *buzzzzzzzzzz* 

It feels like your whole bed vibrates and so you decide to look at your phone before falling asleep.

One (1) new message

Yoongles: Love you too. Sleep well.

Delivered 2:17 am

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the accidental "love you" exchange, it has been, honestly, quite uneventful. You had work as usual, Yoongi had work as usual. You started going on little outings with Yoongi, maybe once or twice a week, and they started becoming your favorite parts of the week. 

The outings didn't have to be anything special, sometimes they were not even outings, instead choosing to spend time together on your couch (his place was always a mess, he said, plus you had the bigger tv).

The question of whether or not you two were actually dating always seemed to linger in the air. In every sense of the word, yes, yes you were, but technically speaking, he never asked, you never clarified, and labels were never that important to you anyways.

But labels are there for a reason, and that is for clarification. 

Jin and his family wanted to meet up with you again, and you asked if you could bring Yoongi, because it seemed Jin hadn't spent much time with him lately either, and this way he wouldn't be the only guy surrounded by women.

You arrive at the cafe, this time with Yoongi, (less of a chance to spill coffee on him again he said, if we came together) and you spotted Jin and his wife almost immediately. They didn't have their child with them, so they must have gotten Jin's parents to babysit. 

The outing with Jin, his wife, and Yoongi goes well, so well in fact that this conversation happens.

"So we've been talking a lot about us lately, now tell us, are you and Yoongi a couple?"

"Ye-"

"N-"

You both look at each other. He had almost said yes, while you had almost said no. 

"Trouble in paradise already?" Jin laughs.

"What she meant to say was yes, yes we are dating, and yes we are boyfriend and girlfriend, that is in fact, what she meant to say."

"And what do you think of that?" Jin asks pointedly.

"Um.. Yeah, yeah that's exactly what I meant to say, 100 percent, completely and utterly fact, it's just the first time we clarified it." You say as you rub your neck, a slight smile coming to your cheeks as you feel the blood rushing there. 

The rest of your lunch was filled with teasing coming from Jin, and from Yoongi, he was a lot more touchy, always wrapping his arm around you, holding your hand with his other one. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time went on, your life intertwined more and more with Yoongi's. 

You both shared your passions for life, even though you both already knew each other's likes and dislikes.

His passion was music.

Mixing, to be specific.

It always took a long time to finish each track, but when he did complete it, you were the first he called to listen to it. 

It didn't always go well though.

There were times where he didn't feel like his work matched up to his previous masterpieces. 

He would work as if he was tireless, often spending several days and nights without rest.

On these nights, it's become your custom to bring him some sustenance, as he usually worked so hard he forgot to eat. 

Vanilla Latte in hand, as well as a box of fried chicken, you knock on the door of his studio.

You tried the door, locked.

"Yoongi," You call out, knocking a few more times, "I brought food."

The door clicks and you enter, already finding Yoongi back in his chair, headphones around his neck, face illuminated by the computer screen. 

Which is also the only source of light in the room.

You tell Yoongi to close his eyes and you turn on the main light, the adjustment harsh on even your eyes. 

You both eat together, him offering you the wings while you offer him the drumstick, sharing the Cola that came with the set. 

After eating, you clean everything up, and he gets back to his work, but this time offering you a pair of headphones as you turn out the light. 

You know that he's tired. 

His eyes have dark circles underneath them, body movements are slow, and if you look closely, you can see the red lines in the whites of his eyes, all of these clear signs that this might just be his 2nd day of no sleep. 

Nevertheless, you know that he refuses to sleep until he's satisfied, and you give him your thoughts on his latest piece.

Just like this, you both stay up the rest of the night, your head sometimes leaning on his shoulder.

As soon as the latest masterpiece is completed, you help him out of his chair and into his bed. He can shower after he's gotten some rest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has been approximately 6 months since you started dating Yoongi, and your dynamic as a couple was truly something amazing. 

Ever since clarifying the relationship to Jin, and to yourself, Yoongi had amped up his efforts to really make you fall deeper for him.

Or maybe he hadn't, but it sure felt like it, because you could feel the love for him in your heart grow every passing day.

You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket and see an incoming call from Yoongi. 

You excitedly pick it up, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

"Princess, can we meet tonight? I want to take you out to dinner," Yoongi said, his voice deep and smooth, just like the voice that you hear those nights that you spend with him in the studio.

Those nights were the best. 

He had gotten you your own rolling chair for his studio, along with a comfortable headrest and blanket. 

So those nights where neither of you could quite get to sleep, where just being in each other's presence was cathartic enough, even if you don't say a word, you would oftentimes find yourself at his studio. 

He would welcome you with a hug, arms around you tightly, head nestled ever so lightly in your neck, so that he could be as close to you as possible.

From there, he would wrap you in a blanket and pull you along to your chair. He would make you sit down and make sure that the blanket was covering every inch below your neck for optimum comfort. 

The final touch was the big, studio-quality, headphones that would encase your ears and cut off everything else that you would hear. The exception being Yoongi's smooth voice and background tracks  that played throughout the dimly lit hours of the night. 

Oftentimes, you would fall asleep right in the chair, it being more comfortable than you ever thought it could be.

Reflecting on what were some of the best nights of your life so far, almost caused you to miss something. 

Yoongi just called you Princess. 

It was a good thing he couldn't see you through the phone, because when you realized that he called you Princess, you could feel your cheeks get hot, and you had the biggest smile on your face. 

It made your heart start to beat just that little bit faster, but thankfully that didn't stop you from replying normally.

"That sounds wonderful, Sweetie."

You couldn't see it through the phone, but Yoongi's cheeks slowly turned pink when you called him that, and his heart started to beat just that much faster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has now been one full year since Yoongi started dating you. 

Before Yoongi, you didn't know it was possible to love a person this much. 

Sure, you had loved Jin before, you grew up with him, and there wasn't any doubt in your mind that your feelings for him at the time were absolutely, 100%, true. You knew they were true too, from the way that even after 5 years apart from him, when you met him again for the first time in so long, those feelings struck you hard again, and you could feel the jealousy creeping back up into your soul. 

But then, you saw him smiling.

You knew that he was happy. And you wanted that happiness for yourself.

You wanted to let go of all the negative feelings that came from keeping your love for Jin inside for too long. 

You wanted all of the jealousy you had towards his new family to disappear. 

And that's exactly what being with Yoongi did.

It took a while.

The first few weeks, when you weren't quite sure if you were dating or not, were difficult beyond belief.

So many thoughts would creep into your mind, saying that Yoongi didn't even like you, and that he was just reconnecting with an old friend from kindergarten. 

Saying that this relationship would end up the same way as your friendship with Jin ended, with you falling hard and no one to catch you. 

But after that fateful day in the cafe, when he told Jin that you two were, in fact, dating, your heart SOARED. 

He liked you back, and you could work with that.

Bit by bit, Yoongi tore out your old, still broken feelings for Jin, and replaced them with his own.

Except his weren't broken. 

His were healing, you could feel that every passing day, you were forgetting what you felt for Jin, the scars that were self-inflicted on your heart from an unrequited love were being healed by someone who wanted to take care of you, who wanted to love you. 

All of these emotions went into the planning for your 1 year anniversary.

You made his favorite food, made sure that he had time tonight, because tonight was something special. 

He was able to get out of work early tonight, coming to your place while you were still in the middle of cooking, and while you wanted to hug him, you didn't want to ruin his clothes, so you didn't run to the door and throw your arms around him like you wanted to, but that was okay, because he came in and hugged you from behind.

This was another one of your favorite moments.

Your back against his chest, his arms secure around your waist. A short kiss placed on your neck.

"Princess, I love you so much."

"Aww Sweetie, are you just saying that because I have your favorite food?"

"That's just a bonus. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Sweetie."

His arms let go of your waist and shortly after you could feel something cold and metal being placed on a chain around your neck. 

"I specially ordered this for you Princess. I was able to design this necklace to imitate the same designs we used to draw in the sand together back in kindergarten."

You had a huge smile on your face as you rushed to wash your hands so you could see it in the mirror. 

You fingered the small metal design, it looking so fragile against your neck. 

He wanted to see your reaction so he had followed you into the bathroom, and right there, you turned around and kissed him. 

Arms around his neck, looking into his eyes, you say, "Happy 1st Anniversary, Yoongi."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6 months after your first anniversary, something else happened.

You adopted a dog.

Rather you and Yoongi, both adopted a dog. 

You went to the animal shelter that day, dead set on getting a cat with Yoongi. 

You both loved cats, they were always so adorable, with their little toe beans and whiskers. 

When you arrived at the shelter, that's when you saw a box. 

Specifically a box full of tiny, little, brown, curly puffs of fur, sleeping peacefully.

Then one of the puffs of fur opened his eyes, and you both had instantly made your decision, looking each other in the eyes and nodding. 

You picked up the small puff of fur and brought him inside the shelter.

"Ahhhh hello! I see you've spotted our puppies! Their mother was pregnant with them when she was brought to the shelter, and then in a very sad turn of events, passed away due to complications in giving birth."

A few tears dropped at the story, sad for this puppy's  start in life.

But that's what you were here for. 

"We'd like to adopt him now, please."

"Absolutely! Follow me and we can fill out the paperwork."

And that was how you two ended up with a dog instead of a cat.

That small, clumsy puff of fur immediately set off in your house, sniffing everything and becoming familiar with his new home. 

Around its neck was a simple collar with a tag that said "Min Holly"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your relationship with Yoongi was a whirlwind of emotions. 

From the very moment that you two had reconnected, to this very moment that entranced the two of you, you knew that what you felt for Yoongi was special. 

Your energies combined and swirled around each other in the same ways that your dirt drawings contradicted each other yet still made a beautiful picture. 

At this moment, you two were overlooking the ocean from a high cliff, watching the waves crash against the sharp rocks at the bottom, the water frothing and foaming with each wave. The sky was littered with stars, each twinkling in their own constellations. 

Your fingers were intertwined with Yoongi's, head on his shoulder as you looked out at the scenic view. 

"You know," said Yoongi, turning his head slightly to look you in the eyes, "I never imagined that the little girl who drew pictures in the sand every afternoon during recess would be the one I would eventually love to the ends of the earth. It's quite sobering, really, to find the one that completes you so fully, and yet I've never felt so completely entranced, yet so level-headed, I've never felt more sure about myself, than when I'm with you."

"I love you too, Yoongi." You whisper in his direction, his eyes drawn to yours, never breaking contact, never wanting to, because if you could do one thing for the remainder of your life on this earth, it would be to see the soul and passion of Min Yoongi in his own two eyes. 

There was something.... Special...about Yoongi. He made all of your troubles seem as they were merely cirrus clouds in the neverending blue of the sky, light and wispy, as if they were going to disappear with even the slightest of breezes. 

He made you forget about your past feelings towards Jin, as if every thought that was formed about Jin when you were younger was nothing but a mere breeze that briefly wove through your hair, and nothing more. 

Yoongi somehow erased all of your negative thoughts, worked with you through all of your lapses, and loved you every step of the way, through this very moment that you spent with him.

And as you looked into his onyx eyes, you knew that you loved him with every beat, every blood vessel, every ounce of your heart, and you knew that you wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

"There you go again, staring into my eyes and getting lost in your own thoughts. Let me bring you back down to Earth." And, as he said that, he produced a small golden ring and slid it onto your left hand fourth finger. 

"Y/n, I love you, and with this ring, I promise that I will always love you, and I ask you, here and now, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

can you do a happy Elliot Alderson fic where he gets drunk after he is called "boring" by some idiot for not having any fun and then hilarity ensues.

I am REAL thirsty for happy, sweet Elliot, although let’s punch that idiot in the face. I also don’t consider myself funny, so I doubt this will contain hilarity, but I did try my best!

It had taken every ounce of persuasive power you possessed to get Elliot to come to your brother’s birthday party, promising him that you would stick close to him, that you could leave if he felt really uncomfortable.

Elliot didn’t say he loved you often; he wasn’t the type of person to end every conversation with an automatic “I love you” because he believed in the sacredness of genuine feeling. People were just too … shallow. Elliot never wanted to be that kind of normal.

So, when he finally agreed to go with you, you knew that was his way of expressing his depth of feeling for you, and you truly appreciated his gesture.

However, you couldn’t hide your grin of excitement as you realized that for one night you wouldn’t have to explain that your boyfriend was busy or that he was just not the social gathering type. You could have him near you, able to turn to him and to breathe him in. You could watch him and guess at what he was thinking as he observed all the party guests.

And though he donned his trademark hoodie while you were dressed up in the sexy little black dress you had been dying to let him see you in, the pair of you looked good. You snuck a glance at Elliot’s styled hair and smiled at his perfect profile as you walked to the train—if only he knew how handsome he really was.

The night went well at first; your brother was a few shots in when you walked in and he grabbed you up in a crushing hug. While your brother was a good guy, protective and loving, he was a guy’s guy. His friends weren’t exactly your type, but you were friendly, hugging a few of the ones you had known forever.

Elliot watched, shaking your brother’s hand and mumbling a quiet “happy birthday” before retreating to an unoccupied table.

You motioned to Elliot to ask if he wanted a drink and he nodded yes.

You ordered two beers, but before you could make it over to your table, a few more people stopped you to say hello.

“Sorry,” you said a little out of breath when you finally made it back to your boyfriend. “I’ve been so busy with work and with you that I haven’t seen anyone else in a while.”

Elliot tilted his head, thinking about what you said.

“I mean that in a ‘so wrapped up in the beauty of you’ way,” you clarified, enjoying the sweet smile that spread across Elliot’s face.

“I’m not—”

“Uh-uh,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re beautiful, and I love you,” you finished as you gave his knee a quick squeeze, wanting to kiss him, but knowing better than to make him uncomfortable.

The second gift of another sweet smile on his face was enough as you returned your attention to the party, people coming over to join you and Elliot intermittently.

You were outgoing enough for the both of you. That was one of the reasons you knew he agreed to come—you could handle the attention and he knew you would redirect it away from him if it was too much. One of the reasons Elliot fell in love with you was because you had so quickly figured him out, and you didn’t mind at all that he needed more understanding than the average person.

You were giggling as one of your brother’s friends told a story from their college days, and you felt the ghost of Elliot’s hand on your bare thigh as he tried to catch your attention. You turned to him immediately and he whispered in your ear that he was going to the bathroom.

You gave him a smile and watched as he slid off his barstool.

Elliot quickly made his way to the bathroom, trying not to touch anyone even though the place was crowded.

After he used the bathroom and was washing his hands, two of your brother’s friends came stumbling in, drunk and loud.

Elliot’s jaw clenched as he quickly dried his hands and tried to avoid eye contact while he made a quick exit.

“Yoooo” one of them said, stopping him by placing an unwanted hand on his shoulder. “How the hell did you manage to snag Luke’s sister? I’d give anything to trade places with you, bro!”

“Then you’d be a boring asshole like him,” countered the other guy.

“Take it easy, dude,” the other one said as he released his grip on Elliot’s shoulder and headed to the urinal.

“Y/N’s always going out alone. Might as well be with someone who cares enough to be seen with her.”

Elliot said nothing and just shrugged his shoulders as he slid out of the bathroom.

“Quit being a dick, Benji,” Elliot heard the guy at the urinal say before the door shut.

Boring.

As if those assholes weren’t just the typical results of a patriarchal society that places emphasis on men being unemotional, uncaring, “bros” who wouldn’t know an original thought if it walked up and slapped them across the face.

Nonetheless, the comment bothered Elliot, and he made a beeline for the bar, ordering two more beers and a shot of tequila.

He took it straight, not bothering with the salt and the lime the bartender offered.

He ordered two more and downed them before returning to your table.

You gave Elliot a sweet smile as he approached and seeing you look at him like that made him feel warm.

Although, that could’ve been the three shots of tequila.

“You okay?” you asked as you took in Elliot’s sort of bleary eyes.

He slid your beer to you without replying but he reached over to hook his hand around your hip, scooting close enough so that his hand could rest on your upper thigh.

You were surprised by the open affection but let yourself sink into his touch.

You hadn’t realized that much time had passed when Elliot leaned in to ask if you wanted another drink.

You had only drank about half of your beer, so you shook your head and gave him a surprised look as he scooted off his stool and walked over to the bar again.

That wasn’t half as surprising as the sound of Elliot’s laughter as he and your brother downed two double shots of tequila and embraced in a bro-hug.

Your mouth dropped open.

Elliot. Just. Bro. Hugged.

“Excuse me,” you squeaked as you slid off your stool and adjusted your dress before walking over to Elliot and Luke.

“El? Are you okay?”

“Okay? Better than okay,” he said as he ordered two more shots.

Your eyebrows shot up. You couldn’t recall any time that Elliot had ever drank more than a few beers, let alone ordered shots.

“Elliot. What’s gotten into you?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he said as I followed his eyes across the room and landed on two of my brother’s dumber friends.

“Come on—stop while you’re ahead.”

“Stop killing his buzz, sis,” Luke said, slinging his arm around your waist.

You frowned, clearly seeing the impact of the alcohol on Elliot. He didn’t drink that often and certainly didn’t drink to this degree. Something was off, but he was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions, however stupid they might be.

“Take a shot,” Elliot said, his face difficult to read as he pushed the refilled glass of tequila toward you.

You sighed and reached for the salt, knowing you better keep it to a light buzz in the event that Elliot got completely wasted.

And that was exactly what happened—a few hours later, Elliot was wasted, leaning into you, the smell of tequila surrounding the two of you as you helped him onto the train.

“Y/N?!” Elliot barked out your name, causing you to jump and more than a few passengers to turn and stare.

“Elliot—Christ,” you hissed. “I never thought I’d have to ask you this, but please be quieter.”

“Y/N?!” Elliot said again in what most people would certainly not call a quiet voice other than the rasp Elliot added to his tone in an attempt to whisper.

“Yes, Elliot?” you said, your eyes wide as you navigated him into a seat beside you, pulling on the edge of his hood to get him to sit before the train lurched forward.

“I love you,” he said to you and the entire train.

“Excellent, thank you,” you said, trying not to be completely mortified, which was easy considering how shocked you were at his very public declaration.

You risked a glance at Elliot to make sure he wasn’t going to throw up on the train and were greeted by him peering at you with messy hair, wide, bloodshot eyes, and a perfect smile.

Despite your mild annoyance that he’d done this to himself and your concern over why, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling back.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Hi,” Elliot said, completely not quietly.

You laughed and took his hand, his smile almost widening enough to show his perfectly white teeth.

Elliot had absolutely no idea when you got to his stop, so you pulled him up and managed to get him to stumble off the train before the doors closed.

“Tonight was kinda fun,” Elliot slurred. “Your brother’s kinda nice.”

“He is,” you said helping Elliot up the steps to the landing.

“I have to ask, El. Is there any particular reason you’re completely tanked?”

“Sometimes a guy’s gotta let loose,” Elliot declared to the entire building, and you vowed not to ask any more questions until you were inside.

Then, Elliot almost tumbled into the door of his apartment when he tried to take a step at the top of the landing, not realizing the time for climbing steps was over.

“Whoopsie,” he said in a sing-song voice before giggling.

“Oh, lord,” you said as you fished for the keys to his apartment, soon realizing you didn’t have them.

“Do you have the keys?”

Elliot thought about it, then his face erupted into a wolfish grin.

“In my pocket.”

“Can I have them?”

“If you come and get them,” he declared to you and to all of his neighbors.

“Shhhh!” you said, rushing forward to put a hand over his mouth and to shove your other hand in his hoodie pocket.

“Notinthere,” Elliot slurred from under the muffle of your hand.

You sighed with exasperation and dug into the front pocket of his jeans, totally distracted when Elliot gave your hand a lick.

“Ha!” he said, swaying as you removed your hand from his mouth and continued to fish for his keys after pulling out his phone.

You finally dug them out, much to Elliot’s chagrin.

“Damnit. I didn’t hide them good enough.”

You chuckled, and pushed open his apartment door, ushering him inside.

“Y/N?!” Elliot said again.

“Yes, Elliot?”

“I love you.”

“So, you’ve said already.”

“I don’t say it enough,” Elliot said. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

Elliot pulled his hoodie over his head rather than unzipping it, ending up taking his shirt off, too. He looked at the clothes on the floor and shrugged before collapsing on the couch.

“Let’s get your shoes off, too,” you said as you dropped to the floor and began to untie them—or tried to, but Elliot changed his position on the couch.

“Hold still!”

“I wasn’t moving!”

“Yes, you were,” you said laughing.

“Oh—sorry,” he said, looking apologetic.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No,” Elliot said, moving again, this time wiggling off the couch and on to the floor to face you, still wearing one shoe.

“I. Love. You.”

“Elliot, you’ve said that all of three times over six months, and now you’ve said it three times in less than sixty minutes.”

“All you need is love, Y/N. Love. Love is all you need.”

“Are you singing lyrics now?”

“I’m singing a song? Is it any good?”

“Well, it was good when The Beatles wrote it and sang it.”

“God, those cars are fucking ugly,” Elliot said, his face so close to yours that you were pretty sure he was about 80% proof.

“Wow, are you drunk,” you said, reaching up to cup his face.

“No’m not.”

“What happened?”

Elliot looked at you for so long you wondered if he fell asleep with his eyes open. Then, he finally moved his gaze to the floor.

“D’you think ‘m boring?”

“Boring?! You’re the smartest, most complex human being I’ve ever met. Not to mention, generally the sweetest.”

“’m not boring?”

“Who said you were?”

“Luke’s friends. When I was in the bathroom. Washing my hands. They probably don’t wash their hands. Douchebags.”

“I’m so sorry they said that to you. Fucking idiots,” you hissed. “But I can assure you that you’re not boring.”

“K.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. I only care what you think anyway.”

“Lots of other people with more braincells than those idiots think the same thing I do.”

“K.”

“Elliot—are you gonna throw up?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed and stood, pulling Elliot up and quickly ushering him into the bathroom.

The next time you saw Luke’s friends, you were going to punch them square in the face.

“I’m dying,” Elliot mumbled as he hugged the toilet.

Yup. Square in the face.

[oh-so-scenarios]

ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴɢs...♠| 02

⤖ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs? Jᴜɴɢ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ…ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

⤖ Mᴀғɪᴀ Lᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ x ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, Aɴɢsᴛ, sᴍᴜᴛ, sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ!ᴀᴜ,

A/N: Unedited, please ignore any errors (Word Count: 4.1K)

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My eyes fluttered open, and I stared at my dull white ceiling. For a moment my mind was clear, and light. Only for a moment though. The events of late last night shuffled into my thoughts. My eyes widen and my heart started hammering against my chest.

I sat up gasping as I remembered the wounded boy laying on my floor. I threw the sheets off my body and scrambled to my feet, forgetting to put my slippers on. I grabbed my phone to see that it was nearly noon.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath. He has to be up by now, and he’s probably hungry. I speed-walked into the living room expecting to see Jungkook on the floor, or even on the couch...but he was nowhere in sight.

He left? I peeked around the wall of the living room, seeing if he was sitting in front of the TV? Nope. I sighed, almost disappointed. He left? In his condition? I turned around towards the kitchen, yelling at the figure in the kitchen.

Jungkook stood there shirtless with a bowl of cereal in hand. His wide doe eyes stared at me as if he was a child caught doing something he shouldn’t.

I placed my hand on my chest, catching my breath.

“Hey.” I greeted awkwardly. Jungkook showed me a small smile and nodded as his greeting. He leaned against the kitchen counter, eating his cereal peaceful. I couldn’t help but stare at the young man.

He looked like he was on the brink of death not too long ago and now he’s standing in my kitchen shirtless like it’s the average Sunday.

“I’m sorry, I slept in. I was planning to wake up to make you something to eat. You need to regain your strength.” I stepped deeper into the kitchen and closer to Jungkook.

He shook his head, “I’m fine.” His raspy voice almost vibrated in my chest. It could through the air my nervous voice was strolling in. I glanced down at the bandages wrapped around his side, seeing no blood spots.

As if he read my mind, Jungkook spoke; “I replaced the bandages myself, since you left the roll on the living room table.”

I nodded and laughed stiffly.

I looked around the kitchen, many things running through my mind. What do I say? Should I ask him what happened? O-or should I tell him about his friends calling?

I glanced back at Jungkook and we made eye contact for a moment. I wordlessly turned around and walked the way I came. I went back to my room and searched through my closet, taking a large band tee I usually use for sleeping.

I walked back to the kitchen and set it on the counter beside Jungkook, “Here is a shirt. I tore yours in the heat of the moment.”

Jungkook snickers, “I don’t know who decides to do surgery in their living room, you are a weird one Y/n.”

I start to laugh but stop at the mention of my name, “How’d you know my name?”

He nodded his head towards the living room, “You have your degrees and certificates framed and hung up. It’s pretty impressive.”

I brush off his compliment, “There is nothing impressive about it, it’s what all doctors go through to be able to help people.”

“Mhh.” Jungkook hums, “it’s still impressive. I definitely couldn’t do it.”

We stand in silence for a moment, so I move to grab something to eat from the fridge. As I take out eggs and other things for a late breakfast Jungkook speaks.

“I am so grateful for what you did Y/n, I know most people wouldn’t even think of doing that. But...I know you must have some questions, like how I ended up with a bullet in my side? Or why I couldn’t go to the hospital?”

I didn’t look at Jungkook but focused on preparing my food. I took out one of my smaller pans and set it on the stove that was adjacent to Jungkook.

Do I really want to know? Do I need to know? If I ask questions, I’ll get answers I don’t like.

“No,” I lie, “I don’t want to know. It’s none of my business. You’re alive and well so that’s all that matters.”

“Do you want some eggs?” I ask. Jungkook nods eagerly. As I’m making the eggs, my curiosity is still sitting in the back of my mind. I try to keep my face straight as I make scrambled eggs, deciding to add bacon to the meal. I end up making too much food, but Jungkook looks up to the challenge as he helps me set the table.

I make no mention of when he’ll be leaving, thinking that I’ll check up on his stitches once more before bringing up the topic. After the table is set I tell Jungkook to dig in.

I walk out of the kitchen to head to the bathroom. I got to brush my teeth. I’ll also see if I have an extra brush to spare. I brush my teeth quickly and wash my face as well. I go into my bedroom and grab my cell phone off my nightstand, freezing as I realize Jungkook’s phone is no longer there.

With my phone in hand, I return to the kitchen where Jungkook sat at the small dining table eating.

He doesn’t even look up as I take a seat behind him, I grab my fork and knife. But before I can start eating, I look at Jungkook.

“Jungkook, did you take your phone off my nightstand?”

He stares at me while he chews and swallows, “Yup, I had to call my hyungs, they must have been worried about me.” He says before taking another bite of his food.

“Oh, Jimin and Hoseok right? They’re your brothers? I spoke to them on the phone.” My worry was beginning to fade. Of course, they’re his friends and siblings! I was thinking so negatively earlier.

“Well, no. Jimin hyung is my friend and also my coworker. Hoseok is my boss.” He doesn’t look up from his food.

I take a bite of my eggs, not minding that it was no longer hot, but lukewarm.

“What kind of work do you do?”

Jungkook clenches his teeth together almost comically and slowly looks my way.

“I don’t think you want to know, Y/n-noona.” He answers shyly. I don’t have time to acknowledge his words as the intercom starts to ring.

My eyes move to Jungkook who is looking back at me.

“Jungkook, did you--”

“Yes.” He answers, “I sent my hyungs my location. They just wanted to come to pick me up. They’re worried you’re an undercover cop or something, but I’ve already snooped through your stuff to figure you’re not.” The words had a sinister tone to them, and the cute bunny smile on Jungkook’s face didn’t soften the blow.

“S-so you invited your hyungs, who share an occupation which you don’t want to share with me, to my house?”

The twinkle in his eyes as he tilted his head to the side revealed his genuine oblivion. He doesn’t see the problem here?

His phone started to ring so he dug into the pocket of his joggers to reveal the phone in question.

“Hyung!” He chimed. He stood up from his seat and walked towards the door. I also stood up quickly. Wow, this guy is way too carefree.

“Y/n noona, can you buzz my hyungs into the building? What floor are you on--”

“Jungkook, you can’t just invite people to my place! I don’t know these guys!”

He stares at me silently and speaks after some time, “You don’t know me either.” The cheeky smile doesn’t change the sinister tone in his words either. It almost felt like he was responding to a challenge.  

I couldn’t conjure up a reply to his retort.

My worry bubble in my chest again, this isn’t some innocent kid at all. I have read him wrong.

I walk past him and to the intercom near the front door, I pressed the speak button.

“Floor 5, apartment 06,” I say quietly and press the button to buss them in. I wordlessly walked back to the table to eat.

“Well, I’m dying today,” I muttered to myself.

“Noona don’t say that! That’s unlikely.” Jungkook jokes.

There is a sturdy knock at the door, and I rush ahead of Jungkook who moves to open the door.

“Who is it?” I shout at the door.

“Were you expecting someone else?” The person behind the door jeers. I unlock the door and crack it, peeping my head out to be met with the hard eyes of 3 men. I must have looked so small at that moment. I looked them up and down.

I don’t know why I was expecting some men in all black and shades. They were dressed casually, one of them wearing a plain white t-shirt and some black skinny jeans.

“Y/n?” He asked. His mouth curled up into a smile naturally and he looked down at his feet almost nervously. His black hair was kind of long, almost concealing his eyebrows. Oh? This is the voice I heard on the phone.

“Jimin…?” My voice comes out shaky, and he smiles grows causing his eyes to thin out.

“Yes.”

“Hyung!” Jimin chimes from behind me. I open the door wider, stepping to the side as the three men strolled in. I’m mentally punching myself. Went from having 1 strange man in my apartment to four. Wow, my mom would have a heart attack.

I close the door as the three men greeted Jungkook. He lifted up his shirt to show them the bandages. They are speaking among themselves and I decide to stay by the front door unless I have to make a run for it.

What kind of situation have I landed myself in? Damn it Y/n! Curse your need to help.

“Wow, you really operated on him in your living room.” I snapped out of my daze to see one of the other men looking at me. His hair is black, brushed onto his forehead and by the callous look in his eyes, he didn’t seem to care much for me as a person.

I nodded shyly, “I wasn’t going to leave him to die...especially in my living room.”

“You shouldn’t go out of your way to do such unnecessary things.” He criticized.

“Yoongi-hyung, don’t be like that,” Jimin said hitting the man in the arm.

I crossed my arms over my chest, “Oh so you have someone else who could have operated on him? Someone you wouldn’t need to go to a hospital to see?” The man named Yoongi totally disregards my words, turning his back to me.

“Either way, thank you for helping our Jungkook. I’m Seokjin, Jin for short.” other man stretches his hand out. I shake his hand kindly, trying to muster up a smile.

“Are all doctors this cute?” He smirks. I roll my eyes playfully.

“Unfortunately, I’m a rare case.” I joke back.

“We’re just glad you weren’t a cop.” Jimin snickers. It feels like the air has lightened up a bit, but of course, that doesn’t last long.

“A cop? Why are y’all in the mafia or something?” I chuckle at the words, finding it funny. All four men don’t even bust a small chuckle. My laughter dies in my throat as my eyes scan the blank faces off all four men. Even Jin who was teasing just earlier seems to have lost his smile.

My mind begins to click things together.

“M-mafia..” I whisper to myself.

“I think it’s best if you all leave now.” My voice came out hard and crude but at that moment, a new strand of fear has entered my system.

“You can keep the shirt Jungkook,” I say while I open the front door open. The men seem to stand there for a while like someone wanted to say something. Yoongi is the first one to step out, Jungkook following behind him.

“Bye noona!” He smiles and waves. Seokjin walks out next. Jimin approaches the door but stops. He reaches in his back pocket and hands me a yellow envelope. Before I can protest he is out the door. I slowly close my door and lock it.

As I am leaning against the door I opened the envelope. All I can do is to let my mouth drop open as I see it’s contents.

I pull out a chunk of money and stare.

“What in the world…” This has to be at least $10,000. Did...did I just accept money from the mafia?

Stuck there in my shock, I almost don’t notice a piece of paper falling to the floor. Did that come out the envelope? I bend down and pick up the slip. It’s about the size of a regular post it.

Scribbled on it is, ‘Thank you. For your troubles. - Hoseok.”

My brows furrow at the note. The mafia surely doesn’t leave thank you notes. I chuckle at the thought. Maybe, I’m jumping to conclusions? I do that a lot.

~!~

“Congratulations,” I said as I took a sip of my tea. I set the cup down and looked back at Jennie. She snorts and shakes her head. She leaned back in her seat while glancing around the hospital cafeteria. We both sat in our white doctor’s coat. The only difference is Jennie’s out under the white coat. She sat in a white blouse and dark red skirt with heels.

I wore a white and light blue striped blouse with light blue jeans and tan nude heels. I took another bite of my chicken caesar salad, more chicken than salad. I always ask for extra chicken.

Jennie sighed, “There is nothing to celebrate. He sucks.”

I chew the food in my mouth and swallow before speaking, “He can’t be that bad. He’s your soulmate for a reason right?”

Jennie found her soulmate about 2 days ago, the proof being the initials now printed on the inner side of her pinky. It’s said that when people find their soulmate, the red yarn disappears and they’re left with the initials of their soulmate on the side of their pinky.

Jennie runs her fingers over the initials, seeming like her mind was elsewhere.

“He’s an artist, he paints and stuff.” She mumbled. Most people wouldn’t see a problem with their soulmate being an artist. Someone who is creative, free thinking and has a nice perspective on things.

Jennie, however, is not that kind of person. Jennie was the first person I met when I started working at Seoul Sky Hospital 3 months ago. She walked up to me with a straight face, which is often mistaken for a glare. After working with her all this time, I’ve come to realize it’s just how her face is.

She is a very straight forward, fact-based person who was expecting her soulmate to be a scientist, accountant, engineer or stiff CEO. An artist? On top of that, a struggling artist? Jennie’s ominously high standards can’t be met with a struggling artist.

“You’re still going to give him a chance, right?” I asked.

Jennie nods, “I have no choice since I’ve met him it feels weird without speaking to him for a day. He’s so cheeky and smug, I can’t stand it.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Jaehyun, he’s younger than me.”

I chuckle at Jennie’s glower, “If you ask me, I think you two will do just fine. An artist isn’t that bad. I’ve heard some intense soulmate horror stories.”

Jennie leans forward, pushing her pasta out of the way, “Spill.”

I take another short sip of my tea, racking through my mind.

“Well,” I started, “In Med School, we had this one professor who his soulmate ended up being his student. The guy sat three seats behind me. We only found out at the end of the year that he left his wife for the student.”

Jennie laughs, snorting a bit, “Seriously? That’s so juicy! My neighbor found her soulmate when she had to be the prosecutor for his murder case.”

I gasped, “Oh my God! She had to send her own soulmate to jail? That’s tough.”

Jennie shakes her head and narrows her eyes at me, “He was found not guilty. I can’t be sure if she had anything to do with that, all I know is that she didn’t report to the court about him being her soulmate. That’s what she’s supposed to do.”

“Oh she totally went easy on him, but ethically, she’s wrong. She overlooked the possibility of that man being a murderer because he’s her soulmate.”

“People do crazy things for their soulmates,” Jennie adds, “I’d rather be a stale-mate couple than an overly connected one.”

I raised an eyebrow at her words, not totally understanding. Before I could question her, she addressed my confusion.

“It’s slang the younger kids have made up. You know some people meet their soulmates and there is no connection at all? No need to see each other or no love felt even after years? They call them stale-mate couples. It’s to the point that some meet and then never contact each other again.”

“Oh!” I perked up, “My friend Michelle had a situation like that.”

We sit in silence for some time, before Jennie says something. I can’t be sure if it was to herself or if she was speaking to me.

“Maybe an artist isn’t that bad…” She trails off. She leans back into her seat and looks at me. Just from the look in her eyes, I know what the question is gonna be.

“You haven’t found your soulmate yet?” She grabs her fork and starts to move around the pasta on her plate.

“No,” I paused, weighing my next words, “about two weeks ago, the string was tugging.”

“Well, that’s a good sign. They’re close by! They’ll probably walk in here as a patient,” She snickers, “Dr. Lee will throw a fit.”

I roll my eyes, “Don’t even get me started on him. That man will not leave me alone!”

“He likes you.”

“And is that suppose to be a good thing? Certainly doesn’t feel like it.”

Jennie nearly chokes on her food as she laughs, “Aw Y/n don’t be like that!”

“I want that man to find his soulmate than I want to find mine, so I can finally have peace.”

After we finished eating we said our goodbyes and headed opposite ways. It’s been roughly 13 days since Jungkook and the rest of his friends walked out of my apartment. I’ve been on edge since then. The money in the envelope was enough to shake me up.

Who randomly hands someone that much money? It’s not normal, along with a Thank you note?

I’ve been working 14-hour shifts lately, barely having time to eat before showering and knocking out. That is why I am thankful that I have no operations scheduled for today.

It’s mostly paperwork all day today, along with checking up on some patients. It’s a pretty simple day.

The rest of the day went by normally. I do my best to avoid Dr. Lee in the hallways while working accordingly. I run into Jennie who was too busy to really give me more than a few words.

I check the clock, seeing that my shift is just about over. It’s 15 minutes to midnight, giving me enough time to finish up the last of my paperwork.

I exchange my heels for some comfortable sneakers and put my heels in my big purse. I clock out, making sure to stop by Jennie’s office to say my goodbyes.

I round the corner from Jennie’s office and crash into what I thought was a wall. When I catch a whiff of the same expensive cologne, I wish it was a wall instead.

“Hi Dr. Lee,” I forced a small smile onto my lips, praying that this would be a quick interaction.

“Y/n, I feel like I haven’t seen you at all today.” He grins.

That was the point.

“I’ve been running around, can’t keep patients waiting.” I laugh awkwardly, noticing that he was also preparing to go home.

“You’re heading home?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yes, I actually have to run...I have...I have to water my plants.”

“Really?” He lets out a dry chuckle at my excuse.

I start taking steps back, “Yeah! I’ll see on Tuesday, Dr. Lee!”

“When are we gonna stop this game we’re playing?” He calls out after me.

“When you realize I’m not interested!” I shout over my shoulder, speed walking towards the stairs. I swiftly make my way down the stairs, seeing as I was only on the second floor.

Why do I have to keep running away from that man? For now, he’s being very laid back about it, but I’m worried he’ll take it too far. I start my walk home, humming to myself while I go through what I am going to due for my next few days off.

I find my steps slowing when I got to a certain spot. I gawked at the empty alleyway where I found Jungkook just weeks before. The whole thing feels like a dream or an out of body experience.

I keep walking, making my way down the street. I start to hum to myself again, one of the songs a teenage patient was playing has been stuck in my head. It’s still and dark, only things sounding are the early summer crickets.

I get to the front of my apartment building, starting to punch in my code to unlock the door when I heard what sounded like a car driving up. I didn’t think much of it, punching in the numbers as the door unlocked. I opened the door, starting to step in when I heard a familiar voice.

“Y/n noona!” The voice half yelled and whispered. My movements froze and rather than turn around, I start into the building again.

“Y/n noona, please!” The voice calls again. Y/n, just step inside and don’t look back. You don’t need to--

My thoughts are cut short as my eyes now focus on the red string of yarn around my finger tugging like crazy. I spin around quickly to notice a disheveled Jungkook, once again beaten up, holding his side, but standing up. He doesn’t look too bad. A busted lip, and a split eyebrow with some bruises.

This time I don’t miss the Glock 36 Gun in his other hand. My eyes widen and I stagger back. With the black van situated behind him, this doesn’t look good.

“Noona wait! Please, w-we need your help.” Jungkook begs.

“We?” I stammer.

Jungkook knocks on the darkly tinted window of the black van behind him. The door roughly slides open to reveal 4 men in the backseat and two in the front. I recognize Jin in the driver's seat and Jimin in the passengers. Yoongi sat in the back with 3 men I’ve never seen before.

All of them were hurt in some way and badly. They look like they’ve just gotten out of some type of brawl. My goodness. There were blood stains all over their clothes. My eyes bolted to the few guns sprawled out on the floor of the van, with bloody bandages that show they were trying to take care of the problems themselves.

I was able to catch a glimpse of the big duffle bag that was overflowing with many stacks and wads of money.

Yet, the guns, the blood, the money wasn’t the true kicker. The blood was gross to see, the guns were scary and the money was concerning. All those things are enough to make any sane person turn the other way.

But what has me stuck in my spot is the man who was leaning on Yoongi, eyes closed, breathing heavily, dark spot of blood coming from his chest were his grey shirt was torn. He probably got sliced by a knife? Yes, that wound looks serious, but that still isn’t the true table shaking thing.

It’s the red string of yarn tied onto the pinky of his bloody right hand. The red string of yarn trails down the floor of the van, onto the ground and makes its way to me, the other end tied around my right pinky.

My breath caught in my throat and just like all the stories I’ve heard before...bells. Bells were ringing in my ears. The young man’s eyes opened, his breathing still labored.

He looked right at me. I watched his eyes moved along the floor of the ground, clearly seeing the string of yarn connecting us too.

“Oh shit.” Both of us said at the same time.

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 32

Life as a human guinea pig is a strange thing. First of all, there's the questions. The same questions over and over, to the point where the machines and medical doodads and the noise that became almost normal for me, but the questions became the irritant of the day.

"How are you feeling today, Dr. Taylor?" As I'd squint into the bright light being forced into my marrow it seemed. A muttered reply from me, and honestly the same answer in varying degrees of annoyance or acceptance depending upon the day and how many times I'd been asked it so far. "Uh huh, and are you feeling warm? Is there tenderness in your abdomen?" While they poked and prodded, testing skin, muscle, bone and eventually blood.

Did you know the average human adult has around 1.2-1.5 gallons of blood which equals roughly 10 units? I know this because I wanted to be certain that I'd have enough after all the blood testing. Research would either be the way I kept sane or what finally pushed me over the ledge into complete madness, mark my words.

Billy visited, as often as he could, and every single time he'd greet the head poker in residence with his own version of the repeated question game. "How is she? What's the bloody progress?" At which I would inevitably check the arm that seemed to be their favorite vessel for bloodletting. "How much longer?" And then he'd meet my gaze and focus his attention on ME, rather than on my medical condition.

Yes, I was calling it a condition. If I let the reality of my situation fully grip me, then I'd scream. And I had moments of it, trust me.

How would you feel if every single time the man you loved walked in and spoke about your person as though you were a petri dish experiment before reminding himself, through sheer force of finally SEEING you, that you were in fact the woman he loved?

Now take that feeling you just got from that scenario and add the annoyingly taunting voice of the caped asshole who caused this whole fucking irritating bullshit situation reminding you that you fell in love with a man for whom hatred of supes is as natural as inhaling. Feeling just a hint of discomfort? Just add the sound of beeping, buzzing, and dripping to remind yourself of the fact that this was all happening while I was being held hostage as a "let's see what happens if we try this mixture to counteract the demon juice flowing through her veins" was tried over and over.

Strained. My nerves, body, and brain felt strained. Even after the feeding tube was gone and Billy could kiss me. Even after I was given the go ahead to work from my hospital bed. Frayed would be a kind way to say how absolutely on edge I felt.

And the worse part? I felt like I was missing something. Something important. Something paramount. Just out of reach and as though, even surrounded by my laptop and notes, something that was keeping me out of an important loop.

The longer that I stayed in the 'undisclosed medical' location, the more that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Literally anywhere. I started to yearn for Bolivia and the Black Ops team that had gotten caught up in the web of a rogue agent and 'died' implicated in a massive fuck up of epic proportions.

When a rational woman who knows how the inner workings of other people's brains and behavior follow reliable patterns starts thinking fondly of the heat of a tropical place where she had to wade through more red tape than most people would assume humanly possible to unravel the truth, all while hearing the type of rumors about the men she was trying to clear and resurrect from faked death, then shit has hit epic levels of horrible. It did remind me to contact that team to see how their return to their former lives had worked out, and wonder if their leader had gotten over his own tragic ability to attract murderous women.

I wanted to go further than the small courtyard deemed safe enough for me to explore, and near enough to make them taking me off the dialysis machine after another fun round of 'clean her blood again' reasonable. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and watch television at my discretion without interruptions for another round of the questions and poking I wanted, in short, to be back to normal already.

I might have been empathizing with Billy's urge for the Vought wankers (his word, I swear) to find the magic solution so life could go back to the routine we both wanted a return to. Or I might have been trying to only see the positive outcome, since there was a creeping feeling that maybe, just maybe there wasn't an easy fix or a fix at all.

A month passed, with my cabin fever slowly increasing by the day, and with it my internal and external temperatures. Oh yeah, that's right, I might have forgotten to mention that while the steaming was at bay, now it was just my actual body temperature that would fluctuate and freak every single fucking person all the way out. When Billy said I nearly went "nuclear" he hadn't been joking, apparently I could have fucking exploded like a goddamn human time bomb and I didn't want to consider just how fucking messy that would have been for the janitorial staff.

Finally, maybe because I wanted some type of control about the questioning, I started asking some probing ones of my own. And what I found, when they would meet my eyes and answer me as fully as I wanted, was that that creeping feeling was growing more likely.

The issue wasn't simply that they didn't know which variation of Compound V that Homelander had me infected with, it was that as they broke down the components and addressed each one, my body didn't simply fight their attempts, it attacked itself. The asshole, it would appear, had basically chosen the self destruct version, and it was trickier than any puzzle these 'real doctors' had ever come across. I was truly feeling the confidence of having a toddler performing my brain surgery with this knowledge.

Oh and that wasn't all, even IF they figured out how to 'neutralize' the formula inside of my bloodstrain, then there was a probability that I could pass it on to any future children. Isn't that some kind of amazingly poetic bullshit to hear after you chose to evict a foreign invader from your uterus? That the one stabilizing agent I'd had scraped and dumped was the ONLY one that I would ever get to actually be allowed to experience. Remind me to send Homelander a HUGE fucking thank you card, would you?

Early into my first true consciousness, before I found out just how fucked the pompous dick had made my entire existence, Billy had told me that my parents had visited while I was knocked out. Apparently near death experiences make even the weirdest of families reunite. And mine was no different.

Mom became a regular visitor and I was shocked by how much I started looking forward to her visits. She was strangely comforting, and tried to keep my spirits up, she even made peace with Billy. Dad was less frequent in his contact, but Mom told me it was difficult for him to see me look like a shell of myself.

And I did. I looked like a ghost that's haunting what was left of my body. The feeding tube had kept me nourished, but my muscle mass had suffered from the amount of time I was forced to spend in bed. I was constantly tired, my work hours going from nine to six to an hour here, a few minutes there, and the amount of napping I did would make most house cats jealous. The gowns that I wore hung from my frame, my appetite was scarce and I felt like this was the LONGEST goodbye letter ever to be written.

As the days passed, one merging into the next without me taking stock of how much I missed, how much that puzzle of what I was missing had bothered me early on, the negative ideas started creeping in. Homelander's voice grew louder. His smug question about Billy and me and what my condition would mean for the two of us in the end kept pushing through my attempts to distract myself.

I was sitting in the soft chair they'd brought in for me by the window, staring out and thinking of my options when Billy came in for his visit. I heard him, in the background noise of beeps and whirls, ask his questions. I felt him when he was nearer to me, but my eyes stayed on the 'view'.

He started to greet me, but my mouth opened and the question came out without me thinking about it. "How will you do it?" I watched a leaf, one missed by the obsessive groundskeepers, dance in a breeze I wish I could feel. He was confused, his reflection showed that much. "When you kill me, how will you do it?"

"Veronica," I could hear the pain in his voice, the fear hiding behind it. "I wouldn't-"

"Frenchie then?" I tilted my head considering. "MM? Hughie barely managed to make the choice with-" I stopped and took a breath. "Kimiko?" I sighed and pulled my legs up onto the chair, hugging my knees. "I hear she makes quite a mess of her prey." My voice wasn't loud and it didn't sound anything more than resigned, and I was a little curious. "If you can get Starlight to do it, you could make it seem like self defense? Or," I sighed, and bit my lip, "it would finally give you a reason to take her out too."

"Ronnie, love, that's not gonna-" I turned and he flinched when he saw that I was serious and not the least bit upset. "Ronnie?"

"Billy Butcher, I wrote the book on you." My smile felt wrong to me, but right at the same time. "I know you inside and out, or at least I think I do." I had the research on the flash drive that was hooked into my laptop on the bed. "You are single minded in your focus and your focus has been on eliminating supes from the world for a very long time." I turned back to the window, staring past the view and at the reflection of the room behind me. "It was one of the things I found the most attractive about you, I think. That you could see a goal and pound away until you master it." He sat in the chair close to me, but at a distance far enough that he'd have to work to touch me. "So, how will I die, Billy?"

"You'll die safe and sound, of old age in our bed, Veronica." I smiled sadly at this pipe dream of a fairy tale he wanted so badly to believe. "When you're sick of me, remember?" I could hear how badly he wanted it to be true, how much he wanted to hold me and it to all be a terrible dream.

"Never took you for a nursery rhyme and fairy stories fan," my eyes were still on the window. "This isn't going away, Billy, what he put in me isn't going away. And you will start to look at me like you look at him." My eyes found his, and face to face I wanted to force him to see it. "You will. And then, just like you, Frenchie, and Hughie brainstormed about Translucent and the best way to end him, you'll start to consider my pressure points." I gave a harsh, humorless chuckle. "And the funniest part is that Homelander built mine in for you, all you have to do is take me off the blood cleanse for a day and my own body will do it for you." His eyes tightened at the reminder of how many close calls I'd had. "Oops, I guess I just planned it for you."

"Please don't." He was begging me to let him pretend it wasn't the truth, that he wouldn't lose me too, and because of the same supe as Becca's cause of death. "Don't do this."

I smiled sadly, knowing he knew, even without me telling him, what was going to happen next.

[firebirds-flaming-art-blog]

Guns and ammunition.PNG

A single comic page to go along with one-shot fanfic.

Thank you @sw-seibellissima for helping edit the fic.

Description: New to the crew Vesta, a cultist survivor, is trying to quickly slot herself into a very new culture while also not letting on there is someone else living in her head. Piper may not know all the details but she’s going to try and help her fit in regardless.

Beatrix just wants to laugh at her dumb ass oblivious captain.

Warnings: One-sided OC/Canon, light fluff, domestic, introducing the bab to guns, mental illness, nothing really that extream I just wanted to write something with Vesta to see if this is something people want?

The comic without steam on her face and panels is below the fic, I don’t mind if people just reblog for the picture and not read the fic :) It’s very self-indulgent lol

“So whater you tryna say kid? You’ve never fired a gun before?” Gabriel huffed, the older sailor seeming to not believe her. Sure she was sheltered but hardly innocent.

“Nope never needed too,” Vesta answered, her single eye down at the table she was picking the paint off of. It seemed kinda silly, relying on weapons that can jam or be turned against you so easily. However, her insulated quiet behavior sent off a very different message.

“What did you crazy cultists even do all day?” Sally was hardly tactful about the question through the mystery around an honest to cog Apocalypse cult was hard to simply ignore.

“Well, there was-” Vesta started to speak but was quickly interrupted.

“Was there weird live sacrifices?! I bet there were sacrifices.” Sally sounded so proud of herself like she just unlocked a great mystery.

“I don’t think interrogating the child is going to help much,” Bea pointed out, actually giving their new guest some distance. Leaning against the wall while the rest of the crew crowded their new guest? Crewmate? Piper was being rather tight-lipped about the whole situation.

Speak of the devil.

“Alright crew, let her breathe,” Captain Piper said, motioning behind her with her thumb.

A few crewmates like Sally and Payroll whined about it but the nine bots filtered out of the tight room. The whole ship was rather tight and confined.

Vesta continued to stare at the infinitely fascinating peeling paint, anxiously playing with her golden ‘hair’.

“Yeah, hope you’re used to bots. You’re not gonna find much privacy here,” Piper pointed out with a shrug. “We run a tight ship on this tight ship.”

“It’s okay,” her eyes flashed blue for a second as her head twitched, “I-I’m used to not getting any privacy.”

“That’ll help,” Piper sat down at the table across from her. “You made quite an entrance at the bar. Scared the scrap out of those royalists.”

“They seemed pretty scared already… I didn’t know their fate was written in fire. It was sad.”

Piper chuckled, “I take it you didn’t grow up harassed by royalists then.”

“No, the cult did most of the harassing I can assure you that much. Have they replaced their Queen yet?”

“Nope, too much infighting between her remaining generals to take the throne. Her whole empire is shattered and has no way of enforcing their order.”

Vesta had plenty of questions about the topic but didn’t feel it was her place to really ask such things. Most of them boiled down to why didn’t Piper take control of the throne when she killed the Queen? She proved she was stronger, a better leader, why not simply take her claim and rule over the kingdom she hated so much and make it better? Make it her own.

Piper noticed she was quite distracted, to put it lightly. “Why don’t you look at me when we’re talking?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, it was more curious than anything. Still didn’t help Vesta who now looked wound up tighter than a spring. Little beads of condensation formed on her face.

“It’s not just you, I don’t look anyone in the eye.”

“How come?”

“Respect…”

Piper nodded, she knew she was lying, Vesta was a terrible liar. Though she was also as stubborn as your average Shiner. Getting through her walls was like trying to dig out of prison with nothing but a rusty spoon.

“Well come on, I’ll let you use my old pistol. We gotta get you caught up with the rest of the crew.”

“What?” This actually made Vesta’s head shoot up, in surprise but still. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you planning on going anywhere else?”

“No.”

“Then you should know your way around a gun, besides, at least half my crew wants to head on home and start their lives with their cut of the water, I’m gonna need a few bots who’ll stick around once Vectron is destroyed.”

Vesta hesitantly stood up, “I don’t think-”

“Come on, I’ll show you the basics.”

Her protests died in her voice box, she couldn’t say no to the captain.

They left the dining room and went down the few steps to the armory which had a single lane set up for firing. There were a few cupboards for storage, a bench, other than that it was rather empty.

Vesta hovered around the edge of the firing lane while Piper grabbed the pistol.

“No need to look so tense, this is the easy part.” She didn’t even have to look at her to know she was uncomfortable, the air was full of tension and static, all radiating off the steambot.

Piper handed Vesta the pistol, her body relaxed as Vesta carefully grabbed the weapon. Treating it as if it were delicate as glass. Not the attitude she was expecting but whatever.

Still didn’t help much, as she aimed the pistol at the target her core was shaking like a leaf while her shoulders were far too tense to hit anything. It would do her no good in combat to be an obvious target like that.

Piper came up behind her, putting her left hand on Vesta’s left wrist and right just above her hips.

Vesta could have sworn in that instant her core was about to burst into flame, her whole body raising a good five, no, ten degrees Celsius at the contact. Her condensation problem was getting far worse though Piper was more worried about her wasting fuel and water then overheating.

Steam began to rise from her frame as Piper leaned her head just behind Vesta’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking too hard about it,” Piper whispered, trying to calm her down but found her just getting more and more wound up. “Relax your shoulders, brace your arms and core-” She put her leg between Vesta’s legs to try and separate them a little. “-Legs a little more apart, that’s a good girl.”

With that Vesta’s eye began to flash between blue and red, her head buzzing. 

‘I can’t be doing this!’ Jane cried inside her head.

‘Calm down.’ 

‘My wife, I need to find her!’ 

‘We both know she’s dead.’ 

‘She might be saved somewhere else, Vectron’s network is massive.’

‘We remember, she didn’t want to be saved.’

‘But why? It doesn’t make sense! Doesn’t make sense! Doesn’t-” Jane’s voice melted into static, her memories jumbled, corrupted, locked away or at least hidden away. It was frustrating to remember so much but also so little. Vectron was trying to protect her, protect her from herself. But in doing so she could never properly mourn, never move on. A ghost lost and waiting for a love who would never return.

In a flash, Vesta could see the red eye of Jane’s guardian and keeper. The eye of Vectron. She fired the gun in a panic.

Piper smiled, backing off a little, “See, was that so-?”

Vesta, completely flustered dropped the gun, causing herself to discharge again. This time the bullet ricocheted across the room. Nearly hitting the two steambots.

“Golly! Careful there!”

They had plenty of supplies to patch themselves up on the ship but it was best to avoid accidents.

“I- I’m so sorry. Thank you. Umm- I’m gonna leave, bye,” Vesta stuttered out, stepping away from the captain, it sounded as if two people were trying to speak at the same time out of the same mouth. Steam was still raising off her shell.

“Hey, you don’t have to-” But before Piper could finish Vesta was gone. Flustered as she rushed passed Beatrix.

Piper sighed as she picked the pistol off the ground. “So, how long have you been listening?”

“Awhile, I didn’t want to interrupt,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, trying so hard to hide her grin and failing.

“What?” Piper asked looking completely lost.

“Nothing Captain. Just give her some time, I’m sure she’ll open up to you.” She turned around to leave knowing full well she’d burst out laughing if she stayed a second longer.

Piper blinked, oblivious to what was going on. With nothing else to really do here and figuring Vesta was too spooked to really work with her she returned to her maps to set a course. Maybe she could convince the little steambot to go on a quieter mission, she knew she had fire in her, literally, maybe she was just holding back? Or something.

She had no idea how right and how wrong she was.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 12 - Come Sunday

“I don’t like that melody,” I shook my head, looking over to Julian and another writer, Jamie, as we sat in one of the writing rooms at the label. The walls were a light beige, we were hidden away inside the big building--no windows showing the sky to help us keep track of time.

We’d been working on songs for three days straight--trying to find the right demo for this band that Julian was really trying to launch.

Jamie let out a sigh, it was the fourth melody I’d shot down in the last ten minutes. I strummed the same chord, looking over the words we’d scribbled on paper in front of us.

You said apologies don’t work

But I know it’s not just words that hurt

“What if we sped it up?” I asked, changing the strumming pattern to be a bit more upbeat. “I don’t know, something like this?”

Julian let his head bob from side to side, listening to me hum the words over the new tempo. “That’s not bad,” he said. “We could do a more descending melody over that.”

“That’ll be hard to synchronize all of the words over the chords,” Jamie pointed out, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin.

He was right--and in fact, I’d been too much of a stickler about every single suggestion that had been tossed into the room. All I knew was that whatever song was going to be the first I’d write with the label again had to be a good one.

It’d been three weeks since I came back from Jamaica. Three weeks since I wrote with a group of people that made it feel natural--and not that Julian and Jamie didn’t, it was more that something in me had been off since I’d left.

My brain went back to Harry, back to the studio, wondering what was happening and what they were all doing. Even here, sitting in the writing room that had no windows, I was thinking about what he thought and how he felt.

“Can we just scratch this one?” I asked, looking up to see both Julian and Jamie watching as I strummed the same three chords. Julian scrunched his nose and looked to Jamie--waiting for further input. “I have a better one, I have something that I started working on the other night.”

“Yeah--sure, okay,” Julian said, shifting in his seat and watching as I pulled my phone out from my bag on the floor. I pulled up the note, put the capo on the second fret, and strummed.

I’d like to think that you know this

But I’ve got a feeling you might not

Coulda sworn that you’d notice

Maybe it wasn’t all our fault

Cause now I know, there’s no choice but letting go

So I’ll just be with you tonight

I’ll just push all this aside

Cause I’ve got my heart in my hands

And I don’t have a plan how to hold it

Cause I knew this wouldn’t work

And we’d both end up hurt

Yeah I told ya

“It’s just the first half,” I shrugged, looking back up from the lyrics on the screen.

“That’s good, Maggie--like really good,” Jamie’s voice was quiet but sure. I looked up at him quickly, I didn’t expect the reaction to be that positive. I thought--if anything--the song would get us into a different groove. It was a different tempo, a different chord progression, different key entirely.

I wanted to give us something to just regroup, start fresh, think in a different way. “Oh,” I said, “really? I just had that chorus in my head last night and came up with the first verse.”

“Where would you go for a bridge in that?” Julian asked, leaning his arm on the table and resting his head in his hand.

“Same chords, I think, different melody.” I nodded confidently, it didn’t feel like the song that needed a huge turn around bridge. Julian nodded again and was quiet for a second--I suddenly felt like I’d just played my first demo to the first B-list producer who would listen.

Julian--who was probably one of the most reputable producers in London--was someone I’d known for so long. He wasn’t a new person or a scary producer that I’d never worked with. Yet for some reason, playing a song that was only mine felt terrifying.

I’d long gotten used to the idea of rejection. I mean, when you sell your creations for a living, you kind of have to. I got used to apologetic emails and short voicemails telling me maybe next time, kid, by the time I was 15. I’d sent so many demos to so many people that eventually, I just wanted someone to say I was good.

When I first started writing songs I’d play them alone in my bedroom. Then I played them for my parents. Then for my friends. And slowly I got more comfortable putting them out there and letting the world hear what was going on inside my head.

But, without fail, playing a song for a person in the business always felt somewhat daunting. It was the Monday morning anxiety you felt on your way into a difficult job. It was laying everything out there and hoping you don’t crash and burn.

I was more than comfortable throwing my ideas around. Words, melodies, I was even comfortable singing in front of people despite the fact that my talent was clearly in verse-crafting.

I’d brought in a few pieces of songs before--melodies, some phrases or even a verse or two, but this felt different. This song was fully formed--it just needed another verse and a bridge and it was finished. Julian seemed to think so too.

“Finish that, bring it back tomorrow.”

**

I was sat on my couch later that night, weeding through the words that were tangled in my head. I’d written two separate verses that could complete the song. I wrote a bridge that was fine. Nothing seemed to click though, at least until my phone buzzed on the couch beside me.

Harry’s name on the screen made me push my guitar off of my lap, abandoning it on the cushion beside me. I clawed for it quickly, my heart it in throat as I swiped it open to read whatever he’d said.

Was it an accident? Was he meaning to text a different Maggie he knew?

Can you talk?

I let my thumbs hover over the screen, completely unsure of how to respond to his vague and hopeful question. Should I be hopeful though? Was it fair to think that this was good? Perhaps he wanted to call me up to put one final nail in the coffin; let me know that he never wanted to speak to me again and was officially deleting my contact from his phone and any trace of me from his life. In all honesty, I wouldn’t blame him.

I did the time change quickly in my head. It was 2:09pm in Jamaica--if he was still there. I wondered where he was. At the studio? In a different country all together? He could be in Japan with the Queen and I would have no idea--something about that struck me as disheartening.

And how long did I wait? Should I respond quickly to show my remorse--or did I play some form of hard to get and make him wonder how I felt?

I decided to go with the former before I could overthink things too much, and typed an answer.

Sure.

My phone rang within seconds, reflecting the image on my ceiling on the screen. Not only did he want to talk, he wanted to see me.

I ran a hand over my hair once, trying to smooth it out. I wiped under my eyes to clear any smudged mascara before clicking the green button.

“Hi,” I said, feeling my face flush just looking at him. He was in a dark room somewhere--not Jamaica, the walls were too dark.

“Hi,” he said, his lips set in a straight line. He had some stubble on his chin and he looked a little tired.

“How are you?” I asked, pulling a leg up to lean back against the couch. My stomach was in knots--I simultaneously felt like I could cry and throw up, and I was probably sweating through my shirt.

“M’okay--how are you?” his words blended together a bit, his accent seemed stronger than usual. I wondered if he’d been home to see his family.

“I’m fine,” I said, shrugging slightly. I didn’t know if I should go into it--did I apologize again and tell him that I fucked up? Did he know already that I felt that way? Did it need saying?

“Listen--I uh, I just wanted to reach out to let you know that we’re doing an equal cut for everyone who wrote. Jeffrey offered to call, but I figured I’d just let you know myself. We settled on 25% broken up amongst the creative team. Writers, producers, mixers, engineers, the like.”

I nodded slowly--math wasn’t my strong suit, so I had no idea the actual percentage that would leave me with. I figured the other 25% would go to the admin side of things--the label, management, HR, publicists. And then, as per usual, Harry got around 50%.

And it was fine. I was used to it. There were often 40 people behind the scenes that got a small cut of the profit. Harry--or the band, whoever was the face of the project--got a the biggest chunk.

“So you’ll get 2.5% of every sale.”

I pulled myself back and out of the numbers. I looked at the screen again. It wasn’t terrible. That was about average. In fact, I think I made less during his days in the band. The album would definitely sell a couple hundred thousand copies. If there were any other royalties--radio plays, streaming, touring royalties, music video royalties--my income would be set for the next two years.

“Okay,” I said, offering another nod with small smile. “Harry, can we just talk for a second? I know you--”

“Maggie we’ve already talked,” he said with a sigh. He rubbed at his eyes and didn’t seem to look back at me.

I trailed off, licking my lips and waiting for him to say something else. When he didn’t, I blinked a few times. “Okay--sure, yeah. I just, I don’t know.”

“Listen, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I nodded slowly, searching for words to change his mind. “Yeah, okay.”

And then he hung up.

**

It’d been a whole year since I’d stepped foot on U.S. soil, and being in Hopkins International Airport for the second time in a week felt overwhelming. I’d let Julian know that I needed some space, so a trip to Cleveland to see my parents was a given. Being on a different continent seemed to be enough distance between Harry and I that I could actually breathe.

After our business FaceTime call--which felt too professional for the nature of our previous relationship--I decided to figure out where he was. A quick google search and some social media scrolling let me know that he was, in fact, back in London. I had no idea the duration of his time in Jamaica or when he returned to the city I’d learned to call home, but I figured running into him would be the cherry on top of the shit-cake that 2016 had shaped up to be.

So, in true Margaret Mable O’Rourke fashion--according to my mother--I was running away. And now, after a week in my childhood bedroom wondering if the U.K. was really the place for me, I was headed to Nashville to see Chelsea in all of her stateside glory.

She’d begged and pleaded and I’d submitted three finished songs to Julian to make up for the time that I’d be gone--but timing was good. The duo we were working with--two girls from Manchester--wanted to record a few demos to prepare an EP of sorts for the label--letting the execs pick which song would be their first single.

When I took off for Ohio, I got a text that the song I’d played him and Jamie the other day had made it onto their mini portfolio. A week later and now I knew that my song had been chosen, and was now in a final stage of mastering for radio and streaming distribution. It was huge news--news that made my parents feel a little bit better about letting me go back to London after crying in their kitchen about my break up and the hiatus and the sudden shift that left me feeling lonely and incompetent.

So naturally, here in a bar with Chelsea in downtown Nashville kind of amped that feeling up. Because once again, it was extremely unclear to me why we were still here at 1:34am, with Chelsea giggling into the neck of her man of the night.

It was nice to see that she hadn’t changed a bit--not that it’d been so long since I’d seen her. A few months between us and Chelsea was still wearing her bright red lipstick and her hair was as blonde as ever. What had changed, though, was that I was now a miserable, pessimistic, and somewhat drunk girl in a bar in the U.S. who’d gone and fucked up a relationship that could have been something great (pun intended, I wrote that song with Harry and Julian in the Summer of 2012).

I held my drink up to my lips, letting my tongue find the straw as my eyes wandered around the room. Everywhere I looked, people seemed to be paired up. Groups of girls, groups of guys, couples sprinkled around the room with heads tilted together, laughing as the alcohol in their cups slowly disappeared.

Chelsea and her new friend, however, were much louder and much closer than anyone else in the room.

I was thankful, then, for the distraction of my phone vibrating in my back pocket. The name on my screen seemed to blur out the rest of the bar--the noise, the music, and the people seemed to dim and fade as my eyes focused in on the words.

Julian played me your song the other day, it’s really good. Congrats.

I read it three times. I stared at the punctuation and calculated the different options for the end of his sentence. Did he actually like it? Did he realize that the song was about him? Was he saying that to be nice? Was he throwing me a bone after having a too-professional conversation as if he hadn’t watched my face while he made me orgasm?

I sucked down the end of my drink and left Chelsea behind, heading for the bar to refill. More liquid courage for whatever type of response I settled on.

“Dirty Shirley, please,” I said, thankful for not having to explain what I meant. Sometimes, in London, the idea of a Shirley Temple struck people as odd. I’d gotten used to following the name with ‘sprite, grenadine, and vodka, please.’

The bartender handed me my drink with a smile, letting me disappear back into the crowd to have a moment by myself. I read the message again.

Julian played me your song the other day, it’s really good. Congrats.

Thanks for the feedback? Why did he play it for you? What did you really think? My options were endless, but none of them felt appropriate for the current lack of communication between us. So I sipped at my drink and read it again--hoping, maybe he didn’t pick up on the things that sounded eerily similar to us.

And then I read it again.

And again.

And then my drink was gone, and then my finger was pressing his name in my contact list and the phone was pressed to my ear as it rang.

“Hello?” his voice was quiet, which made me realize that it was early in the morning there--if that’s where he was.

“Are you in London?”

“No,” he said, “I’m in L.A. Where are you?”

My question surprised him--or maybe it was just the sound of my voice. “I’m in Nashville.”

“Why are you in Nashville?”

His curiosity sparked a feeling of power in me, I turned on my heel and headed for the door to find more quiet. “I’m visiting Chelsea.”

“Oh--how’s that?”

“Did you really like my song?” I changed the subject, wanting to get to the real conversation before he inevitably said he didn’t want to talk to me.

“I did,” he said confidently, his voice calm and sure. Why was he calm and sure? “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head aggressively, denying the fact that there was--undoubtedly--alcohol in my system. “I’m at a bar, though.” Tossing that detail in felt like a surefire way to ignite some jealousy.

“With Chelsea?” He asked, his voice a little higher pitched.

“And some other people,” I lied, watching as the door open and closed as new people filtered into the bar. The noise got louder and then quieted, “Chelsea’s friends from work.”

“How’s she like her new job?”

“She likes it,” I said, not wanting to get too sidetracked. “Why did Julian play you the song? When did you see him?”

“Last night--he’s here for work and I’m here for meetings. We had dinner. When did you write it?”

“A while ago,” I lied again. “It’s in my catalog.”

The lying would have felt more concerning had it not been for the Dirty Shirleys. The next words came out of my mouth without much thought. “You’re kind of a jerk, though.”

He let out a quiet laugh on the other end of the line. “I’m a jerk? Why’s that?”

I sighed, somewhat hesitant to continue my sentence. He was a jerk because when I spoke to him two weeks ago he didn’t even give me the time of day. Maggie with alcohol brain didn’t really care though, at least he was listening now. “Because you didn’t listen to me,” I said.

“Maggie, I--” he started to speak but I cut him off.

“You didn’t even let me explain and you just made your assumptions about what happened.”

“I don’t know if we should talk about this now, Maggie,” his voice seemed sad and quiet, less entertained that he was a few seconds earlier.

“Then when, Harry? When will you listen to me and let me actually get a chance to talk?”

He was quiet for a second, I shoved my hand in the pocket of the leather jacket I wore. “M’not sure it’s a good idea.”’

“Of course, Harry. Of course it’s not a good idea,” I said sarcastically.

He let out a sigh, “Maggie…”

“Harry,” I shot his name back, still sarcastic and still with an attitude.

“Let’s talk tomorrow. You can sleep this off and we can talk in the morning.”

“It is morning,” I told him matter-of-factly.

“In your time zone,” he corrected.

I let out a short laugh. “Okay, fuck you.” I was getting more angry with his reluctance to even acknowledge my feelings. Sure--he had the right to feel his own, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t have any and didn’t get to share them. This wasn’t all about him, but I guess that’s what he was used to.

“Alright Maggie, I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up before responding, the anger building in my chest until it made its way to my eyes, forming as tears that threatened to spill over. I stormed back into the bar, storming past people to find Chelsea--now sat in a booth--with another drink and a different guy.

“I’m going home,” I told her, my hands on my hips as I waited for a response. She stared up at me, my words taking a second to settle in her head and find meaning.

“What? Why?”

“It’s almost closing time anyway,” I defended, ignoring her question altogether. “I’m calling an Uber.”

“Okay, alright, fine,” she said, pulling her phone up to check it. The screen lit up, she had a few notifications, but she clicked it shut quickly. “Let’s go.”

She followed me outside, glued to her screen as we waited for our ride to pull up curbside. Plenty of happy and intoxicated people stumbled by us, drunk on the winter air and the Tennessee whiskey that they’d certainly consumed. But I wondered, for a second, if Harry was as sad as I was.

Did he care? Did he wonder how I felt or wish we hadn’t fallen apart? And maybe it was silly to wish that something that had barely taken flight hadn’t crashed and burned, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it wasn’t silly to hope that someone who brought a new meaning to my life felt the same way. But I didn’t know if I’d ever find out.

He said we’d talk later. I didn’t believe him.

**

I woke up the next morning on Chelsea’s couch. Her flat in Nashville was smaller than what she’d had in London--but she had the same blanket that I’d curl up with back home.

“Morning,” she smiled at me as I blinked a few times to clear my vision. She was stood across the living room, leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, clutching a cup of tea. The sun filtered in through her oversized windows, letting me know that it was probably closer to noon than I’d like for it to be.

“Hi,” I groaned, pushing myself up off of the couch. I rubbed at my eyes and cleared my throat, feeling a wave of nausea hit me. “How are you?”

“How are you is the real question,” she laughed and walked to come sit on the couch. I bent my legs at my knees, making room for her to sit on the opposite end.

“What do you mean?”

She gave me a sympathetic look, sipping her tea before responding. “You called Harry last night.”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” I said, laying back down and closing my eyes, hoping to avoid the embarrassment that was sure to be showing on my cheeks.

“You called him a jerk.”

I let out a groan--I’d forgotten that part--but then opened my eyes to furrow my brow at her. “How do you know all of this? Did I tell you?”

“No, he did.”

“He did?”

She nodded. “He texted me to make sure you were okay.”

“To make sure I was okay?” I asked somewhat incredulously as I stared up at the ceiling. “What does that even mean?” What I meant, what I thought, was: no, I wasn’t okay, and it was because he wouldn’t give me a chance to figure things out.

“You were drunk,” she shrugged.

“I know, but--why does he care? He won’t even listen to me.”

“He does care, Maggie, he just--” she trailed off, looking down at her tea.

“He what?” I sat up again, keeping my eyes on her as she carefully picked out her words. Was she defending him? How much did they actually talk?

“He doesn’t know what to do.”

“Well neither do I, Chelsea. He’s the one who won’t listen. I’m willing to talk.” I said all of this as if it were old news--but I realized that I hadn't really told her much. I filled her in on Jamaica and the break up and me coming home, but I’d yet to really tell her about the conversation about the royalties via FaceTime. I also hadn’t really told her how I felt about it.

“I know, Maggie.”

“What did he say last night?”

She shrugged and seemed to look around the room, wondering whether or not to answer my question.

“Let me read your texts,” I ordered, my eyes on her face to see her reaction. Why would she hide anything? She shouldn’t have to, so I should be able to read them.

She let out a sigh and stood from the couch to fetch her phone in her bedroom. When she returned, she handed it over and sat back down.

Hi Chelsea. Are you with Maggie?

Hey, yeah I am. Everything okay?

She just called me. How drunk is she?

I guess drunk enough to call you haha

Is she alright? She seemed mad at me.

She called me a jerk.

We’re going home, she’s fine, just tired and drunk.

Sorry she called you a jerk.

It’s fine, haha. I guess she just wants to talk.

She definitely wants to talk. Do you not want to?

Not sure yet.

Just wanted to make sure she’s okay, is all. Have a good night, sorry to bother. X

I let out a sigh and looked up at Chelsea--I couldn’t really be mad that she had spoken with him. I was the one--alcohol and all--that decided to give him a call and apparently, a piece of my mind.

She stared back at me, her eyes soft and understanding as I tried to search for words. But I couldn’t find any. Because the only words that played on a loop in my head were: you fucked up, Maggie.

AN: Hi all!!!! Your love for this story is seriously amazing and I super super appreciate it. This story has been tough to write at times because it’s different than what I’m used to tbh. But alas, thanks for reading. Feedback is always welcome!!!!! 

[letsperaltiago]

We’ll sweep out the ashes in the morning |CHAPTER 2|

If you're new here: welcome! And if you're returning for second chapter: bless you :')

Here's to some Peraltiago banter and pining !!

Read it on AO3 or simply enjoy it here! I appreciate comments more than you know <3

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CHAPTER 2: I say we don't know what comes 'cause that's on the way

“I’m home,” Jake called out as per routine as soon as he set a foot inside the walls of his home as the clock stroke 8 PM. The winter darkness had swallowed New York whole multiple hours ago, and the dwelling feeling of this specific day being that longest in a while was stuck in Jake’s tired, cold bones. Yes, today had felt torturously long, but it wasn’t because of the dark season (a national depression and whatnot) or the fact that he’d been out the door for 12 hours by now. No, all day long it’d felt like his phone and hands were constantly burning in what was clearly a move with the intention of provoking him. His body wanted to text Amy so bad; the faster he did that, the sooner he’d (hopefully) get to see her again. Yet he managed to refrain from doing so, figuring that Amy Santiago wouldn’t give anyone or anything but her job the time of day during official work hours.

Next thing he knew and before his thoughts could carry him elsewhere, the sound of a few light steps approached from the living room. Meanwhile he shrugged off his coat to abandon it on its designated hanger; right next to hers and above the already kicked off shoes.

“Hey,” he heard a warm voice welcome his eyes to switch in the direction of its owner. Here they met a pair of beautiful, welcoming brown irises. Not Amy’s warm brown irises though, he caught himself thinking… This was so wrong.

Immediately upon realising the betrayal his mind had just presented to him, Jake Peralta felt his heart skip a beat - the guilty kind - along with his gut dropping. It was indeed very wrong (even a rule he’d say) to compare ones current girlfriend, who was currently leaning against the doorframe connecting the living room to the entree, to an old friend slash colleague. Especially when you’d only talked to said old colleague for 3 minutes the very same morning. Her leaning hip elegantly as ever nudged the rest of her figure out of her resting position with his direction as target. “How was your day? It’s kinda late and I was getting worried about you.” Slender hands slid onto his waist as if they were making their way back home, reminding Jake of the fact that there was indeed nothing to worry about. Not when the incredibly stunning and smart Sophia Perez was gripping onto his knitted sweater in order to keep him in place for a welcoming kiss to his purple, frozen lips.

“Sorry,” barely made it out against her lips. Pulling away was his next move. “I had a perp that didn’t exactly feel like confessing, so I had to stay in order to get him to talk. He was not a fan.”

“Always the hero, huh?” Sophia smiled cheekily before turning back around prior to walking back to whatever she’d been doing before he walked in. “I had to bring home an important case that’s due tomorrow, so I’m working on that and already ate… But I made sure to keep a portion of dinner for you. It’s ready to be put in the microwave.” Then she disappeared back into the living room.

“Thank you,” was all there was left for him to call out after her, before making his way to their kitchen. ‘Their kitchen’ was still such a weird concept to Jake; sure they’d been together for 4 years now and had lived together for almost two, but sharing his home with another person still seemed surreal to him. This was of course nothing personal against Sophia, but it’d taken Jake a while to get comfortable enough with the idea of sharing a home with a romantic partner - hence why it’d taken Sophia two years to convince him of the fact that his apartment was a hazardous climate and that sharing the bills in two would ease their respective economies. All that aside, they now shared a quite nice apartment not too far from the 99th precinct and once again there was actual food on the table instead of his usual ‘chocolate milk with whatever cereal was in his cupboard that day’-combo. Not that he expected Sophia to cook or do anything for him… It was more a case of Sophia not really letting him, because she was afraid of him messing up, which to Jake himself seemed to be a fair judgement of character. What a chaos it would’ve been if he’d ended up with someone who couldn’t cook.

Whilst waiting for his food to be heated by the microwave as it quietly purred in the background, Jake suddenly realised he’d actually managed to forget about the burning phone in his pocket. For approximately three minutes. Nice. Without any further hesitation he grabbed the device from the right front pocket of his jeans and  swiped it open before immediately clicking the green ‘contacts’ button; dear God, he hoped he still had her number. If not, he’d probably kill- Oh wait, there it was. Jake instantly felt his heart settle again. Yet just as quickly as it had settled, his veins started pumping and of course his heart followed behind, racing again just as his shaky thumb clicked her name then ‘send message’.

Elsewhere, still in her old apartment, Amy Santiago heard her phone give off a rumbling sound that was too loud to ignore. A sigh escaped her otherwise relaxed body in frustration caused by the fact that she’d forgotten to take her phone off vibrate. Trying to fight the global phone-addiction, she liked her evenings undisturbed and preferably without unnecessary use of any gadgets. Though she had to admit that this interruption was no one else but her own fault; and Jake Peralta’s, she mentally added shortly after having put down her book and pushed herself off the couch to check on whoever was trying to reach her after 8 PM. A small, some would say guilty even, grin let its presence be known at the sight before her. Of course it was him; who else?

Jake Peralta: Didnt have ur email saved in my contacts. Sorry:(

Creative, funny enough for her to breath out a chuckle. Even though it was just a few words, Amy had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised by how unquestionably their dynamic fell back into place; something she’d lacked ever since her transfer.

Amy Santiago: I’ll let it slide this one time.

Waiting, staring at the three taunting dots, holding her breath.

Jake Peralta: cool cool cool. so i was thinkin saturday. shaw’s. 8 pm. cool?

Jake’s lack of upper case letters was a mess, which could only cause Amy to feel physically uncomfortable. She was just about to allow herself to comment on it; had he not gone to school? Though she refrained and thus it was quickly replaced by more important matters such as verifying her neatly structured calendar. It would be a lie though, if she claimed to not have made a mental note; Jake really needed to step up his texting game and formal requirements. Simply the thought of his supposed, messy work mails caused yet another shudder, whilst her fingers directed the conversation in a completely different direction.

Amy Santiago: Just checked my calendar and we’re in the clear. Saturday at 8 it is. Hope you’ve gotten better at pool.

In his comfortable spot on his and Sophia’s couch as yet another episode of Queer Eye introduced itself, Jake tried to act if he wasn’t actually afraid of not getting a reply; as if he didn’t fear the fact that Amy had agreed to meet up just to be polite and get rid of him that very same morning. He tried to act as if that would be okay ‘cause it’s not like they meant more to each other than the average old friend slash colleague. People came and went; Jake knew that better than anyone. Though that didn’t mean that he was actually good at playing it off as okay - especially when ‘people’ could potentially be Amy Santiago. Mercifully, a buzz coming from the arm rest beside him drew his attention away from the warm dinner before him and spiralling thoughts. There was no questioning the fact that he did indeed reach for the buzzing device way too fast, but all that fell aside when the lock screen’s preview of the text caused his heart to swell with joy.

Jake Peralta: deal. and dont worry. i’ve been practicing. ur ass will be whooped by 9

A feeling of a potential catastrophe came rushing through his entire body as soon as his finger had pressed the ‘send’ button. Perhaps your third text in five years to an old friend shouldn’t include her ass; especially when you own ass was far from single and definitely had felt… emotions towards said old friend at some point in time. Fumbling fingers quickly typed out a desperate, probably pointless, redeem before yet again hitting ‘send’.

Jake Peralta: sorry!! that was really inappropriate!

“Fuck,” he furiously locked his phone, mad at himself, at the exact same time as the back of his head hit the back of his couch in defeat. Well, if she had no reason to back out before, she definitely had now. Billions of minutes went by (or so it felt) before another buzz drew the heavy head off the back of the couch in a quick snap. In a spur of moment it all very much felt like the pivotal moment of his entire life.

Amy Santiago: Title of your sex tape?

Oxygen once again poured right into his lungs, allowing his chest to open up and his breath to unhinge from the brief, horrid intermission. The widest smile in forever (compared to what, he didn’t exactly know) formed on his tired yet now very content face. Their relationship really hadn’t changed and apparently the student had become the teacher.

Though ‘Saturday at 8 PM’ had seemed lightyears away on that Wednesday, for both Jake and Amy, the weekend and day finally emerged. Unbeknownst to the opposite party, one was more nervous and excited than the other. They’d sent each other a few texts during those few days; small jokes, remarks and other whatnots without importance. Little did they know that every single notification made the other’s heart jump to their throats for just a nanosecond - every damn time.

Amy Santiago: I’m at Shaw’s. Got us two seats in the right corner booth. Where are you?

Jake Peralta: its only 7.48!.. whatever. shouldve known i never had a fighting chance. see ya in 10

Amy chuckled to herself after leaving her phone face down on the oh so familiar, wooden table. Seemingly out of nowhere, the strong familiarity of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks: Sitting in a booth at Shaw’s, the smoke from multiple lit cigarettes mixed with the smell of alcohol, waiting for an iconically late Jake, sipping on a cheap beer… If she hadn’t known any better, Amy could’ve sworn that she was back in 2014. There was no way she’d ever say it out loud, because that would mean actually acknowledging it, but she sometimes wished she actually was back in 2014. This would imply still working at the Nine-Nine and more importantly the fact that she’d get a second chance at choosing a different path for herself. A path that didn’t bring her away from what she’d forever consider her favourite work place and best friends; more precisely a path that didn’t bring her so far away from the possibility of getting closer to a certain idiot, sweet manchild. Sometimes she even caught herself redhanded thinking, daydreaming about what they could’ve possibly resulted in if she’d just stayed. If only she’d just stuck around long enough for her to realise that Teddy wasn’t a match and Jake possibly was… If not perfect then maybe at least better.

She must’ve been staring at the tip of her beer bottle for quite some time seeing that as soon as she allowed her eyes to leave it, she gazed right at a smiling Jake Peralta. Almost like he’d walked right out of her guilty daydream.

“7.59,” he briefly threw a glance at his phone, before putting it down on the table. “Nailed it.”

There was that stupid, racing heartbeat again, Amy thought to herself in the midst of trying to play it off with a welcoming smile and what she hoped was a smooth answer. “I’m impressed. Just for that? First drink is on me.” She pushed a second beer, unopened, in his direction. Prepared as always.

“First drink? Damn, Santiago,” he slid himself into the narrow booth and seated himself next to her. “Are you planning on getting me drunk?”

“Shut up.” Honestly? Yes. But she couldn’t admit to that so she settled for a classic eye roll. That at least always seemed to get her out of these kinds of situations, where she hopelessly needed to run from her secret wishes.

“Here’s to reunions and old friendships,” Jake raised his beer into the air, implicitly asking Amy to make this their little moment.

“I’ll drink to that,” Amy complied, clinking her bottle against his before taking a slurp.

Moving forward, flow of the conversation was smooth and seemed infinite. As a surprise to no one, they had a lot to catch up on and there was no sparing of details or sidetracks. The rabbit hole that was their five years apart was wide agape, and with alcohol added to the mix, there was no stopping them. Their phones never left their screen down positions on the table before them, and their eyes never left the other’s. This was continuously the case until they were both three drinks in and Jake’s phone suddenly pinged.

“Sorry. Just a sec,” the beer in his hand was replaced by his phone. “Must be Sophia asking where I am.”

Sophia. Amy mentally repeated the name, analysing it, trying to put it into a fitting context but alas failed. It must’ve shown on her face. She was never good at hiding her true emotions - especially confusion, where her frowning brows would always act as snitches.

“Oh, wait…” an almost regretful, nervous even, expression presented itself on Jake’s face. “You don’t know Sophia, right?” Why did he have a culpable feeling of not wanting her to either? Things were going so well. It might not have been morally right if so, but Jake couldn’t help but consider that an evening without mentioning Sophia would’ve been easier… He knew things with Amy could never head in certain directions, but he also knew that there would’ve been nothing illegal about forgetting about certain things for just a couple of hours, right? Temporarily allowing himself to forget that Amy had left, eliminating alternative fates for their relationship, thus leading him onto a path right into Sophia’s arms. Alas, it too late. There was no way around it, and Jake had to act like he didn’t absolutely loath the cards that were now clearly on the table. “I met Sophia about a year after you transferred to Major Crimes. She’s…” Jake interrupted himself by taking a finishing gulp of his now empty beer. “She’s great. We live together in an apartment near the Nine-Nine and we’re enga- she’s uh-… my fiancée.”

If he didn’t know any better, Jake could’ve sworn that his old friend’s otherwise golden brown eyes were suddenly eclipsed b a darker shade that he couldn’t quite recognise. All he knew was that it could compare to the way sinister thunderclouds would overtake a clear spring day.

“Oh, that’s…” He saw her struggle to form words, her dark eyes returning to the old habit of centralising on inanimate objects rather than people, whenever she needed a second to form her upcoming sentence. “That’s… amazing!” her eyes were redirected back to his, paired with a weirdly contrasting smile. “I’m so happy for you, Jake. You deserve that.”

If it wasn’t because he consciously forced himself to not overanalyse every single thing she said or did that evening, Jake would’ve been worried by this immediate switch of mood. Yet he let it be, acting as if everything was as it should be. “Thank you.” That was a start, Jake thought. “Yeah, I’m… very happy.” He begged to God that he sounded more convincing than he felt. Why was he feeling like this? He was far from unhappy with Sophia and there was no justifying his opposing thoughts nor his feelings.

“Good. That’s the most important, right?”

God, he hated that he loved the way she tilted her head, whenever she would ask a rhetorical question. “Of course… But uh- what about you? Got a lucky guy?” Though he was definitely tipsy by then, he was nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation. Just the fact that he felt the need to be drunk for this particular conversation was reason enough to get drunk.

“No,” she smiled. Not sadly, because Amy Santiago surely didn’t need a man. But maybe her smile was just unaccented enough to imply that she needed something. This alone gave Jake a devilish and false sense of consolation. False in the sense that it was so wrong. On the other hand he also suddenly feel the need to figure out what this something was. “It’s just me, myself and my job,” she added.

“Well,” a comforting smile countered hers. The last thing he wanted was for her to interpret his question as criticising or demeaning. On the contrary, he actually admired (and always had) her professional drive and independence. “That’s not a bad thing. I’ll have you know…” He pushed himself out of booth for the first time since he’d arrived two hours prior, earning himself a confused look frown from Amy. “… I’ll drink to you and your admirable devotion to your job. Beer?”

Amy couldn’t point out if it was caused by the change in the way the lamp’s warm light hit him now that he was standing up; or if it was caused by him taking off his hoodie before throwing it where he’d been sitting, only to reveal his iconic and flattering flannel; or if it was caused by the buzz in her head and heating cheeks that made her wish he would peel of the remaining layers of clothing. Whatever it was, Amy Santiago was frustrated, yet happy - that collision of feelings itself was extra frustrating. She needed to fight it off the deeply wrong and forbidden thoughts with something. “Shots?”

“Shots.” He concluded, checking for his wallet. “Definitely.”

When Jake came back with four tiny glasses of some clear liquid. Amy didn’t recognise that nor the taste, when she downed her first shot seconds later with Jake back by her side. They’d gulped down one each, followed by Jake explaining her what it was, but she didn’t care at this point. All she wanted was to get back on track and forget the pre-shots conversation about the future Mrs. Peralta.

[spnjediavenger]

Chapter 4: “I told you”

Disclaimers: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters, credit to Wikipedia for information on satoris (yes! Another real mythical creature brought to life!)

Time frame: set mid S5

Warnings: very very small hint at past sexual assault

Notes: Big thanks to @sarimaposthumous for proof reading my fic as always and helping me out of my mild writers block!

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! And much love to those who have liked and/or reposted!!! <3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Chapter 4: “I told you”

           Sam and Dean arrived in Sheridan, Wyoming a few hours ago and were currently getting settled into their motel room.

           “Do you think it’s worth it to keep doing the ‘first in the phone book’ thing?” Dean asked from his bed, sounding a bit defeated. “It’s been over a month, man – what if Elliana’s not even looking for us?”

           “Dude, don’t think like that. We’ve sent out word to everyone we know and Bobby has his contacts looking out too. She has to at least know we’re looking for her,” Sam replied, ever the optimist. But truth be told - he was just as unsure as his brother. They had tried their hardest to find Elliana when they got away from Gabriel, hoping she followed the phone book rule, but they didn’t know that she had given up quite early on waiting for them. They knew she must have thought they left her but part of them still hoped it wasn’t true. They loved having Ellie with them and just wanted to find her again.

(Two days later)

Elliana all but jumped off the bus once it parked in Wyoming; she was beyond ready to be reunited with Sam and Dean.

             “Hello?”

           “Hey, Bobby,” Elliana said, trying to contain her excitement.

           “’Bout time you called,” Bobby said on the other line. “Was startin’ to wonder if you even remembered me.”

           Ellie rolled her eyes. “Of course I remembered you, Bobby; I’ve just been trying to figure things out.”

           “Speakin’ of which, the boys have been lookin’ left and right for you since they escaped that damn archangel.”

           “So I’ve heard,” she said, smiling. “Are they with you now?”

           “They’re in the yard; ‘bout to head out on a hunt any time now. You gonna get over here? I can have them hold up,” Bobby informed the girl.

           “No, that’s ok. Where’s the hunt? Maybe I can surprise them there and give them a hand.”

           Ellie heard Bobby sigh but he continued. “Wyoming. Bighorn Range of the Rocky Mountains. Handful o’ people have been found dead, their flesh eaten off.”

           Ellie’s face distorted a bit. “Just the flesh? Do we know anything else yet?”

           “No not- listen, Elliana, the boys are comin’ in so I’m gonna hang up. But text me when you get there alright?”

             Elliana smiled as she recalled the conversation and texted Bobby as she had promised. Then she went to one of the big rules from the “Winchester Handbook”, as Ellie called it - if you get separated, go to the first motel in the phone book. Ellie could only hope Sam and Dean were going by that since they were looking for her.

           So, she went to the first motel listed, walked in with Anaya (thankfully the place didn’t have a pet policy), and approached the woman at the counter.

           “Hi,” Elliana smiled. “My brothers got here a couple days ago and I’m supposed to meet them here but they aren’t answering their phones, so I don’t know what room they’re in,” she continued, giving a convincing ‘older brothers are so annoying’ look.

           “One really tall boy and a shorter one? Signed in as John Bonham?” the woman questioned, raising an eyebrow.

           Ellie had to try hard to keep a smile from breaking onto her face. Dean and his classic rock references, she thought.

           Elliana nodded in reply.

           “That his real name?”

           “Yeah, it is,” she assured the woman. “Everyone questions it. Our parents were just big rock fans.”

“Room 113.”

           “Thanks!”

           Ellie walked down the hall and, making sure no one was looking, pulled out the lock pick Sam had given her, and opened the door. Her heart raced at the thought of seeing the boys again but came up short when she saw the room was empty. She sighed and closed the door, dropping her things on the ground a few feet away.

           A quiet ding sounded and Ellie pulled out her phone to see a text from Bobby.

           Bobby: Glad you got there alright. Boys are in the range – coordinates coming up. Be safe, idjit.

           Elliana rolled her eyes but smiled. She took a few moments to gather what she thought she needed and left again, bringing Anaya along with her.

           And that’s where the trouble started.

           Bobby had revealed to Elliana that the killings had happened in an area with about a ten-mile radius.

When Ellie reached the beginning of that area, the maps on her phone failed. So she hiked for a while and, after getting around higher elevations, noticed some paths in the dirt – like a body had been dragged over it.

           Ellie let Anaya off her leash and followed one of the tracks until she came across a patch of gravel and dirt stained deep red. Blood. She moved around a bush there and found the source – definitely human, though at this point the gender was impossible to tell as the flesh and much of the muscle had been eaten. Elliana pulled the bandana hanging around her neck to cover her nose at the stench.

           Anaya sniffed at the carcass and let out a low growl, looking up at Ellie with flattened ears - something she did when the body was still warm. Ellie pulled her knife from one of her boots and let out a ‘sh sh’, signaling Anaya to quietly follow her lead.

           It was beginning to darken a bit as dusk started settling in, causing an uneasiness to grow in Ellie’s chest. Without knowing what kind of creature this was, having to face it at night, and not having found they guys yet, she was afraid of what the outcome might be. What if –

           “What if Sam and Dean left already?”

           Elliana spun around upon hearing a hushed voice…speaking her thoughts aloud.

           She closed a lowered fist to the husky next to her to –

           “Hold, Anaya.”

           Ellie froze as she realized what this creature was.

           “It’s a satori. It reads people’s minds out loud and – stop! This can’t be happening! Where is my phone?!”

           Elliana frantically searched for her phone once slow rustling noises started coming her way.

           “If Sam and Dean are here, I need to  – stop it! Stop!”

           Ellie tried to place her thoughts elsewhere while trying to craft a message the creature wouldn’t read in her mind first. She remembered coming across satori while reading some lore in her down time – they were monkey-like creatures that read the minds of people and could speak them aloud faster than a human could. They would use this to drive people crazy and it made them practically impossible to sneak up on. Once they had the upper hand, they would kill the person and eat their flesh –

           “Which explains the vics’ profiles. Knock it off! Where are you?!”

           The voice had become increasingly louder until Elliana was knocked to the ground by a large figure. She swung her knife blindly, as her bandana had risen up over her eyes when she fell, but only managed to get the blade knocked from her hand.

           The weight on top of her was temporarily removed when Anaya lunged at the creature, successfully pushing it over.

           “Die, canine!”

           “Anaya run!” Elliana shouted over the satori. Sure enough, the dog ran off. But not to Ellie’s command; she heard a couple voices a bit deeper in the trees.

           A force hit Elliana over the head and she blacked out.

           Sam and Dean had been hiking for hours, trying to find something, anything else out about what they were hunting. Unfortunately, the creature didn’t leave any survivors so far so there weren’t any witnesses. And to add insult to injury, both boys had lost cell phone service for a majority of their hike, only getting a few seconds’ worth every now and again.

           “I think we should head back, Sammy. I don’t think we’re getting anywhere else tonight,” Dean said, taking a swig from his water bottle.

           Sam sighed. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Once we get service back, I’ll call Bobby and-“

           Sam was cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He hurriedly pulled it out and saw a text from and unknown number.

           Unknown: satori. Reads thoughts, hard to sneak on. Onto me –E

           Sam’s head immediately snapped up to look at Dean. “Dean, it’s Ellie!”

           “What?” he said, jogging over to look at Sam’s phone.

           “She’s here, she found it! But I think she’s in trouble,” Sam responded, words almost starting to run together.

           The guys quickly tried to figure out which way to head when they heard running footsteps coming up on them. Raising their guns, they found themselves shocked to find Anaya approaching them.

           “Anaya?! What the hell is she doing here?!”

           “Elliana hunts with her, remember? God, Dean, she’s only been gone for a month-“

           “Ok, not helping, Sam! Find the kid first, yell at me later!” Dean huffed.

           “Anaya, find Ellie,” Sam spoke as he stepped towards the husky, remembering some of the choice phrases and commands Elliana usually used with her during hunts.

           The dog didn’t waste a second to turn around and bolt through the trees, Sam and Dean hot on her trail.

           “How the hell do we kill something you can’t sneak up on?!” Dean commented as they ran.

           “I have an idea,” Sam said, filling his brother in on their way to Ellie.

           When Elliana woke up, her head was pounding and she had an increasing sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. She opened her eyes and looked around.

           “I’m not tied up – this thing must be stupid. Satori is not! Satori knows human can not escape it,” the creature taunted, coming into the light that shone from a lantern – presumably from a camper it killed.

           As Ellie got her first clear view of it, she saw it was a little taller than she was, the basic build of a man, but otherwise had every characteristic of your average monkey: the face, the tail, the hair.

           “I can’t believe this! I- oh my gosh, just knock it off! Ugh, I need to think of something else. Stop repeating everything, just leave me alone!” Ellie found the satori speaking over her own words as she shouted at it, including the things she didn’t verbalize.

           The satori stepped closer until it had Ellie backed up against a tree, and it leaned down to put its face just inches from hers.

           “It feels discomfort…and fear…and- Dean, let’s go the other way, the wendigo wouldn’t be here. Then where would it be, Sam? Your friends, they search for the wrong thing. Good for me,” the creature continued, smiling evilly in Elliana’s face. What she and the satori didn’t know, was the boys were purposefully thinking the wrong things so they could sneak in and at least get Anaya on it so they could finish it off.

           “Too bad satori will kill them anyway. But better feast first – more strength after eating,” it growled, pushing Elliana to the ground. It put one hand on her head and the other on her shoulder – going in to bite her neck. This made Ellie’s heart rate spike and her to struggle more.

           “You see fangs…a boy…poor thing. Don’t worry, no more pain soon.”

           Elliana screamed when the satori’s teeth dug into her flesh. It didn’t get too far when Anaya knocked him over for the second time that night, snarling and barking as she fought the creature long enough for Sam to run in and take over.

           “Dean, grab Ellie and go! I’ll be right behind you!” he shouted over his shoulder as he grappled with the beast, which was trying to flee.

           “Dean!” Elliana gasped, face contorted in pain as she held her neck tightly.

           Dean ran over to her and wasted no time in scooping her up and running, to the best of his ability, towards the Impala, which they had been able to park closer to the killing radius.

           “See, kid? I told you we’ll always protect you,” Dean said. Upon reaching the Impala, Dean looked down at the girl in his arms to see tears streaming from her closed eyes. He set her down on the ground and inspected her for wounds. The neck was obvious (he took the bandana from her neck to bunch it up to put pressure on it), so he moved to look elsewhere, only finding a few scratches.

           “Ok, kid, I need to look at me, alright? I know your neck hurts but I need you to tell me if anything else is wrong,” Dean pleaded, though keeping his tone solid.

           Elliana leaned her head back against the car, only to let out a weak yelp. “Head,” she gasped. “It hit my head.”

           “Dean!” Sam called as he jogged up to his brother, Anaya running past him to sit next to Elliana. “She ok? Where’s she hurt?”

           “Damn thing bit her neck and it got her over the head,” Dean replied, a look of worry crossing his face.

           Sam walked forward and knelt in front of Ellie. “Ellie? Sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes for a second, ok? Good, now what’s your vision like? Can you see ok?” Sam said calmly.

           Ellie lightly shook her head before closing her eyes again. “There’s…there’s kind of two of you,” she informed.

           “I’m gonna take a look, ok? See if it’s bleeding.” Sam gently took her head in his hands and ran them along her skull, feeling for any bumps or blood, earning a soft cry from Ellie when he came across one near the back.

Sam sighed a bit. “Let’s just get her in the car and back to the motel and we can finish checking her there.”

           Dean nodded and unlocked the car, climbing into the driver’s seat as Sam lifted Ellie into the backseat, sliding in next to her to keep an eye on her as they drove away from the mountain range.

           When the trio got back to the motel, the boys discretely walked through the lobby, trying not to let anyone see the blood covering Elliana’s shirt. They got into the room and Sam helped Ellie lay on one of the beds, Anaya jumping up right after and placing herself over her owner’s legs.

           Dean had walked off to grab water and came back, handing the opened bottle to Ellie, encouraging her to drink.

           “Sam, why don’t you stitch her up?” Dean suggested. Sam nodded and got up to grab some supplies and Dean took a seat on Elliana’s other side, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “How ya feelin’, kid?”

           “This isn’t really the reunion I imagined,” she said jokingly, mustering a small smile.

           Dean chuckled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Yeah, there’s gotta be better ways, huh?”

           “Alright, Ellie, this definitely is gonna suck,” Sam said honestly, taking a seat next to her.

           “I know,” she said, like it was obvious. “How do you think I’ve been on my own for a year? I’ve had to stitch myself up,” Ellie explained. The boys gave each other a look but didn’t question her.

           Sam pulled the bandana off her neck and began cleaning the wound. When he began stitching, Ellie hissed and unconsciously grabbed Dean’s hand, surprising him but making him lightly smile.

           Sam finished up, put everything away, and sat back down next to Elliana again.

           “How’s your head? Your sight clear up yet?”

           Ellie nodded in response.

           Sam sighed a bit, glancing at Dean before asking the next question. “What was that satori talking about earlier?” he asked cautiously. “What he said you were seeing?”

           Elliana froze a bit, not wanting to think back to the partial memory that had come back to her. She shrugged her shoulders, wincing a bit when it pushed at her neck too much. “Just…just a memory from a tricky hunt, I guess. It wasn’t anything that crazy,” she said, trying to brush the subject away.

           Dean looked a bit skeptical but didn’t push any farther, and Sam didn’t either.

           “Well,” Dean spoke up. “We’re glad to have you back, kid. We missed you,” he admitted with a smile.

           Ellie smiled back and sat up to wrap her arms around the older Winchester. “I missed you guys too,” she whispered.

           “Ellie, you need to know that we didn’t just leave you or anything,” Sam said urgently as the girl pulled away from Dean. “We were checking something out and this arch-“

           “I know,” Ellie cut him off. “I heard. That’s why I came back to look for you. I mean, I didn’t know you were looking for me until a few days ago, but once I heard you were looking…I couldn’t come back fast enough,” she continued, smiling a bit bashfully. Sam smiled back and pulled her into a hug.

           “I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, squeezing her a bit tighter. With everything that was going on, the boys were glad to have another addition to their team and more glad that she was likely to stick around for the long run.

After a few moments, Sam spoke up again. “You should probably get some rest now. Ellie?”

           Sam looked down to see Elliana’s head resting against his shoulder, her chest rising and falling with her soft breathing. He looked over at Dean who wore a small smirk.

           “Did she really just fall asleep hugging you?” he chuckled.

           Sam smirked a bit as well and attempted to get up. When Ellie groaned lightly in her sleep, he just laid down, positioning the girl a bit more comfortably on him, and smiled down at her as her form cuddled into his.

Chapter 5 ->