#but i can only hear about how much you hate something/someone/someplace

[24hrsoda]

sometimes all it really takes is removing yourself from places that make you feel miserable for x amount of time to become less miserable

[vodika-vibes]

Your Monnk headcanons got me thinking about a modern au surfer!Monnk or diver!Monnk x reader fic 👀 so I will kindly be requesting that to add fuel to mine and your obsession 💖

When The Sun Goes Down

Summary: You’ve never been a beach girl. There’s always too much sun, too much sand, and too many people for you to consider the beach a good time, let alone a relaxing time. It's too bad that your friend group has a majority rules policy, so you’re dragged to the beach even though you hate it. A chance meeting with a surfer might just change your opinion, though.

Pairing: Commander Monnk x F!Reader

Word Count: 1667

Warnings: Implications adult activities, reader got ditched by her friends

A/N: So the premise of this story is "make bad decisions in your twenties that turns out to be not such a bad decision". Also, there might be some errors because I'm actually hurting right now but Monnk is worth it. Also, the reader is based on me, only I never had a meet cute at the beach.

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You like to think that you’re a pretty chill person. Things don’t bother you, not really. Not in the way they bother your friends.

But you also think that you might hate the beach.

You’ve never enjoyed it, even when you were a kid. But somehow it has become even more intolerable now that you’re an adult. The sand gets everywhere, and it’s always packed with people.

Your friends say it’s time for a “hot-girl summer” and you’d rather be elsewhere. Literally, anywhere else would be preferable to where you are. You’d even take a volcano at this point.

A small frown crosses your face as you stretch your legs out in front of you. Your friends have long since ditched you to go swimming, well, except for the ones who ditched you to flirt with the group of surfers who arrived at the same time as you all did.

You suppose you could get up and go do something. It’s not like you have anything to watch. The only items that are on the beach are the blankets you brought to sit on, and the book you’re reading. Everything else was left in the car.

A group of old men inch closer to your blanket, and you heave out a deeply frustrated sigh. You’re done.

You hop to your feet, gather your book and blanket, and then walk down to the firmer sand near the water. There’s got to be someplace on this beach where you can sit without being ogled by old men, right?

So, you start walking.

And, eventually, you find yourself in a quieter part of the beach. Honestly, at first, you think you wandered onto a private beach as there are that few people nearby, though you quickly realize that this part of the beach is largely empty because there are no shops or public bathrooms in the area. 

You’re considering setting up your blanket here when you hear someone walking in the water. A man is walking in the water, holding a surfboard. At first blush, you think that he’s one of the men your friends were flirting with, but then realize that he doesn’t look anything like them.

He’s taller, for one, and broader. With bleached hair pulled into a messy bun at the base of his skull. Some of his hair is falling out of his bun, and you notice that there’s a hint of blue at the ends.

But his most obvious feature is the giant tattoo covering his body. An octopus of some kind, you think. But you’ve never been good at identifying sea animals. 

He glances at you, a wide grin on his face, “Great day for surfin’ isn’t it?”

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t know. I don’t surf.” You reply sheepishly.

“No? It’s fun~” He offers temptingly.

“Maybe if you’re coordinated,” You joke, “I’m so clumsy I trip over air.”

“Wanna learn?” He asks, his eyes bright.

You’re surprised for a moment, and then a startled laugh falls from your lips, “Do you often offer to teach people you just met how to surf?”

His grin widens, “I do when they look like you.”

“Ah, so this is you trying to hit on me.”

“This is me succeeding in hitting on you.” He counters as he approaches you. He sets his board in the sand and offers you his hand, “Monnk.”

“Sorry?”

“My name. It’s Monnk.” You must shoot him an odd look, because he lets out a laugh, “I know, I know. It’s not a normal name, but at least I’m not named after an animal, my older twin brothers are named Wolffe and Fox.”

“That’s…interesting.” You offer sheepishly as you take his hand.

“It’s weird as fuck, you don’t have to lie for my sake.” His hands are warm and calloused, and he presses his free hand over the top of yours.

It’s weird, but even though you just met Monnk you feel comfortable around him. Even though he’s touching you more than would be considered appropriate. 

A tiny smile crosses your lips and you offer him your name.

Although you’re wearing a bikini (a tiny yellow one, at your best friend’s insistence) Monnk’s gaze never strays from your face. It’s kind of nice, being seen as a person rather than a pair of tits.

“So, what do you think, Lotus? Wanna learn how to surf?”

You want to question him about the strange nickname, but his second question takes all of your attention. Nervously, you bite your lower lips, and his gaze drops to your lips for a moment, and then back to your eyes.

“What if I fall?”

“Then you fall.”

“But, I’m wearing a bikini, if I fall then it might come loose—” You fret.

“There’s no one here but us, and I won’t tell anyone if you have a wardrobe malfunction,” Monnk replies, his voice earnest. You shoot him a look, and he laughs softly, “Or, you can wear my shirt.” He offers you a dark blue tee shirt.

“But it’s yours.”

“And now it’s yours. Because I’m a stellar person.” Monnk teases.

You’re running out of reasons to deny him. And, truthfully, you don’t want to deny him. You glance up at him and pull his shirt on. It hangs on you, he’s just that much bigger than you are, “I’m not the strongest swimmer.” You admit.

“I won’t let you get hurt.” And when Monnk says it, you can’t help but believe him. 

“Yeah, alright.”

He grins at you and tugs you toward the water, pausing only long enough to grab his board.

Several hours later, you’re soaked and a little sore. His shirt is clinging to you uncomfortably, and your hair is stuck to your face. But for the first time you can remember, you’re having a good time at the beach.

But now the sun is setting, and you aren’t ready for the day to end.

At the moment, you’re sitting on his board, while his arms are resting on your thighs and his chin resting on his folded arms. Now that you’re closer to him, you can tell that his tattoo isn’t an octopus. You think it might be a squid of some kind.

“You like it?” 

Your gaze drifted from his tattoo to his face, “Sorry?”

“My tattoo.” He clarifies, “Do you like it?”

“It’s a squid of some kind, right?”

“It’s the Kraken,” Monnk agrees, “It took ages to get done. Especially since it covers most of my body.”

“I bet it hurt.”

“Like a bitch, but it was worth it.” Monnk grins, “My General says that I should add a ship being destroyed by the Kraken, but I’m thinking I’ll add a mermaid instead.” One of his fingers glides across the outside of your thigh, “How about it, lotus? Wanna become my mermaid?”

“Do any of these lines work?” You ask, amused.

“Dunno, you’re the first person I’m using them on. So you tell me.”

Oh. You’re face burns with flustered embarrassment.

Then Monnk grins at you, “Yeah. It’s working.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“And yet, you’re here. With me. Letting me touch you. So I guess I’m not that bad.”

You huff and splash him with some water, making him laugh and tug you off the board.

The sudden cold water makes you squeak in surprise, and you splash him again, “Mean!” Anything else you might have said to him is cut off when his arms slide around your waist and he pulls you flush against him. 

“Mm, you’re soft.” The wide grin has faded into something softer and you avert your gaze, embarrassed. He lightly bumps his forehead against yours, and your eyes find his again.

“You’re going to regret this, Monnk.” You whisper to him.

“I’ve never regretted anything a day in my life,” He counters, his voice quiet, “I’m not going to start now.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything. Then it doesn’t matter, as his lips catch yours in a kiss that starts mild but quickly grows more and more passionate.

And when his hands slide under the long shirt that you’re wearing, you can’t help but sigh against his lips. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?

Monnk laughs against your lips and pulls you closer.

By the time the pair of you return to shore, the sun has long since set.

Monnk apologizes about taking so much of the day from you, though there’s no actual apology in his voice. He almost sounds smug about it. He does look smug about it.

Then you realize that your friends ditched you, with no way to call home.

“Ah, sorry lotus. That is my fault,” Monnk says as he drapes an arm over your shoulder.

“No, it’s fine,” You fold your arms, “They’re the ones who left me here, so it’s their fault.”

“You can crash with me,” Monnk offers, “My hotel room has room for two. Tomorrow I’ll buy you some clothes and give you a lift home.”

That would work, hotels offer shampoo and the like at no cost after all. “You don’t mind?”

“Do I mind having the gorgeous woman I just spent several hours getting to know sharing my bed? No, no I don’t.”

You shoot him an amused look, “I feel bad for messing up your vacation.”

“Don’t be, I have to return home tomorrow anyway.” Monnk grins at you, “This just means that I get to spend the whole night learning you properly before I return you home.”

“Pervert,” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your face is burning, “That’s not the point.”

Monnk laughs, “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll even be a good date and buy you dinner before taking you back to bed.”

“Back to bed implies that we used a bed, Monnk.”

He glances at you, his eyes dancing with laughter, “Well then, this will be a treat for us both.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 10)

I cut this one a bit short since I want the next one to be long. THAT’S where I’m deciding to put the TWO scenes I thought of. It will make you cry, and at the same time make your heart melt. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 3.1k

CW: Witnessing a birth, mentions of death, That’s all for this one!

10-Ryker 

Everything was going downhill. 

There were warnings everywhere around the neighborhood I lived in. That humans living here should find a place to stay on the human side of the city. The riots were getting out of hand. Of course that was something to worry about, but I was really just worried about one other thing. Where would Lucky and Angela live? 

They can’t stay here. If those people come around and they find them, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something bad happens. It was better if I find someplace for them to stay. Away from the people that want to kill them. I was not about to let something bad happen to them because I kept them here. 

I had talked with Jasmine, and she said we should take down all of the elevators and hide the human room in case someone decides to barge into our house looking for harbored humans. It was smart, but it might take a while to get rid of all the elevators. There were a lot. I still didn’t have a place for Lucky and Angela to go. 

Nathan could always… no. That’s asking too much. Taking care of my own siblings? I couldn’t ask him to do that. I’m sure his mom doesn’t want two other people to look after either. I really didn’t know what to do. Maybe if I ask? No. Nonono. No asking. I’m sure Nathan already has his own problems to deal with. I can’t put more stress on him. The movie last night was great until I thought he would be fine if I just grabbed him. He absolutely freaked out and I didn’t know why I even did that. So could he really handle a four year old who absolutely loves hugs and a fifteen year old who is just so full of energy and loves playing sports. Is that a good combo with someone who was wary about being touched and hates the cold weather? No. I don’t think so. 

I groaned, leaning against the kitchen island and burying my head in my hands. What do I do? I can’t just give them to some random person! What if they hurt them or something worse? I guess I could always call Lucky, but what fi they take away his phone? 

There was small giggling from in front of me. I picked my head up, seeing Angela holding up a picture she drew. Of course I can barely see it when she’s standing so far away, but I just forged the best smile I could and scooped her up. She giggled even more, hugging the stuffed panda Nathan had given her. Speaking of… I need to find him a gift. 

“What is it, Angel?”  

“Lucky told me we have to leave. Is that true?” She pouted. Nothing goes unsaid in this house. Everyone finds out eventually. I would of had to tell Angela sooner or later. Or at least before she had to leave and go live with someone else for a while. It might actually be harder for me to watch them leave. 

“I’m sorry, Angel. I just want you to be safe.” I apologized, but she only hugged what little portion she could of my thumb. Like I said, she loved hugs. 

“I don’t wanna go thoughhhh.” She didn’t let go. I sighed, lightly pressing the back of my finger up against her back. I smiled softly, “You’ll miss me?” She nodded her head, finally letting go as I pulled my finger away. She was jut a kid, I can’t tell her that some people want to kill her just for being born. That would be bad. She wouldn’t understand yet either. 

I set Angela back down on the counter, watching her take the elevator back down probably to go see what Jasmine was up to. I still remember the day she was born. Everyone was shocked. Mostly my parents, but I remember being excited to have another baby sister.

——————

We could barely hear the crying. The doctors stared in shock as they held the tiny human-sized baby in their palms. Mom was barely conscious while dad was telling her how beautiful she was. None of us could see her face. She was too small. Isabelle was asleep on the couch, Dylan and jasmine stood there shocked at the events that just took place, meanwhile, Lucky was smiling. He was going to have a human sized sister. 

The doctors told the news to our mother, who was even more shocked than us. They carefully handed her the tiny life that had immediately stopped crying after she was safely in my mother’s hand. Mom had started crying happy tears, cooing at the extremely tiny baby she was holding. 

“It’s rare, but happens. The baby is completely healthy and otherwise normal.” The doctor smiled, reading off the clipboard. I walked closer, the doctor moving out of my way so I could see. She was so tiny. Maybe the size of my fingertip. I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Say hi to Angel, Ryker.” Mom laughed, a shaky hand reaching to the infant. Angel? I liked that name. 

Soon enough everyone was gathered around the hospital bed. Mom didn’t let the younger ones hold her, only Jasmine and I and Lucky since he was a human. When it was my turn, I swear I heard a tiny little giggle escape the baby’s mouth. I smiled, looking in awe at how tiny she really was. Adorable. 

Angel was passed back to my mother, who held her all throughout the night. We never once heard her cry at night. Not at all when she was a baby. We needed some help to get her baby clothes since none of us could fit in a human-sized store except for Lucky, who was barely eleven at the time. Dad asked a few work friends, who were happy to help. When they weren’t around, mom had to use a pipette to feed her. One tiny drop at a time. 

——————

Mom loved her so much. She kept on saying that she was an angel, so that’s what her name would be. Angela. We call her Angel because that’s what mom called her. She really was an angel though. Mom never had a hard time getting her to sleep, feeding her, rocking her. Even if she was so much bigger than her own daughter. 

So, I was not about to let anyone just watch her. We were all so protective of her because of how she was brought into the world. Supposed to be a miscarriage, but here we are, with a happy little sister. I couldn’t let her see the bad part of life yet. It would make me a terrible older brother. 

As for Lucky, I didn’t want him to go back to a place where no one wanted him. Where he was afraid. The adoption center we found him in treated him badly as he was the only human there, so I was just glad I convince him to come with us. Now look at him. He was glued to Dylan and wasn’t scared of anything anymore. Could I let him go back to that terrible place? No. I will not be at any point in time. 

Nathan was my only choice. I didn’t trust anyone else, and I couldn’t let them stay here. Plus, Angel and Lucky like him. I doubt Nathan is able to physically hurt someone anyways. It was my best option. Now I just have to hope that he’s okay with it. 

I picked up my phone, and texted him. 

———Nathan———

My phone went off. I was in my room finishing off one of the books the librarian recommended to me. I picked up my phone, stuffing my bookmark where I left off and checked my messages. 

Ryker: Sorry for bothering you so much lately, but I have a hugeeee favor to ask you 

I already knew what he was going to ask. After what we saw on the news last night, I’m sure he was looking for a place Lucky and Isabelle could be at. Assuming I was the only other human he knew besides his own siblings, I was probably his best bet. I don’t mind though. Lucky and Isabelle are both my friends so how could I say no? 

Nathan: You’re not bothering me :) 

Nathan: What’d you need?  

Ryker: Could you maybe watch Lucky and Isabelle? Just until this whole riot thing blows over 

Ryker: You don’t have though 

Nathan: It’s fine! 

Nathan: I kind of expected this after last night 

Nathan: Let me just make sure my mom was okay with it 

Ryker: TYSM you’re the best 

I laughed, placing my phone back on the desk by my bed and heading into the living room where my mom was finishing up some papers for work. She smiled when she saw me walk in. She took the day off to finish up her work and stay with me. School was cancelled until after Christmas break because of what happened last night. The riots were getting out of hand, and people nearly died. She just wanted to make sure I would be okay at the house alone. Apparently I wouldn’t be alone all that much this time. 

“H-hey mom,” I started, “Ryker asked if his human siblings could stay here. B-because of what happened last night. He doesn’t want them to get hurt and he just asked if they could stay here for a week or two?” 

She smiled softly, putting her pen down, “Of course! You sure it won’t be too much on you? You know I’m working all week.” I nodded my head. If I can take care of myself and my mom, then I’m sure two others won’t be too bad. Plus, I’m sure my mom has some tips for Angela. She absolutely loves kids. 

“Alright then, I can’t wait to meet them!” She cheered as I walked back to my room. I knew she would say yes, I just had to make sure. It’s nice to know I can start slowly repaying Ryker for everything he’s done for me. This was just one small, insignificant way to repay him. 

Nathan: Yeah they can come! When though?

Ryker: Ummm in about three hours? Bus stop? 

Ryker: I don’t want go at night and I want to get them as far away from here as possible

Nathan: Sure! 

Nathan: I’ll be waiting

Ryker: Thank you so much  

Nathan: Anytime :D

Three hours wasn’t that long. I could finish my book and get ready to head out. I don’t know if my mom would want to come. Probably not since she’d most likely have some kind of greeting for them. Maybe she’ll just summon a gift out of nowhere. She does that sometimes. I’ve learned to never underestimate her when it comes to gifts. 

I finished the book, ending with the main character presenting his portfolio while also reflecting on everything that’s happened to him. His brother died, his other brother was broken because of it, he had to be the one to fix his family, and he did it. I liked it. It was a sweet ending. I still had about an hour and a half left until I had to go pick up Lucky and Angela. What should I do in the meantime? Well the first thing that pops up in my head is to bake. Because of course it is. It’s my main coping mechanism and it’s easy to do when you’re pretty good at it. 

Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed everything I needed for just some basic cookies, measured everything up, mixed it, and put it in the oven. My mom had appeared out of nowhere and sat down at one of the stools. 

“Smells good.” She smiled. I smiled back, taking a seat in the stroll next to her. 

“Everything alright, Nate?” She asked. She knew when I bake it’s because something is wrong. Today though, I was just doing it for fun. Also because I didn’t want Lucky and Angela to come without me giving them something. I’m just trying to make a good impression. 

“Yeah. Just making them a little gift.” 

“You care a lot about Ryker, don’t you? I mean, you are taking care of his own siblings for him,” She started, placing a cold hand on my shoulder, “He sounds like a nice friend though.” 

I nodded my head, “He is… I’m just trying to pay him back. F-for everything.” I started playing with my hands. I’m no longer as scared as I was before I met Ryker, I’ve been able to have someone to talk to, I’ve had the experience of actually having a friend, and I feel bad that I can’t give him anything back. 

“Nate, buddy, a good friend doesn’t ever ask for something in return I hope you know. You don’t always have to pay him back.” She advised. I sighed. I knew that… but I wanted to do this. It was the right thing. Was I just about to abandon his siblings to be left in that neighborhood where people were practically trying to weed out any and all humans on their side. 

“I know. But it’s nice to know that I’m at least helpful in some way.” 

My mom patted me on the back lightly, making me sit straight up and offer a nervous smile. She muttered a sorry before heading back to the living room to finish her paperwork. Five more minutes until the cookies were done. I couldn’t do anything else for Ryker except do what he asks me to. I mean, that’s what it means being a human right? You can’t do anything for anyone if they’re not the same size as you, yet a giant can give so much to a human, and still give more to their own people. Wait… Why was I thinking so hard about this?I didn’t even expect Ryker to give me anything. Ah. I’m spiraling again. 

I took the pan out of the oven, seeing the perfectly golden-brown cookies. They smelled delicious as always.  

——————

I waited by the bus stop, constantly checking the time and immediately stuffing my hands back into the warmth of my pocket. I can’t wait to get home, get under the blankets, and cuddle near the heater. Weird? Don’t care. I’m freakishly cold right now, and it was only getting closer as Christmas came around the corner. 

Ryker came into view, a sad look on his face. Right. Parting ways with his siblings he’s lived with his entire life. Why do I get the feeling Jasmine was going to threaten me again? I shuddered at the thought, but smiled and waved as soon as they had stopped in front of me. 

There was no way in heck that I was ready to see Ryker standing up to his full height from the ground, so I just focused on something else. The many cracks in the sidewalk, how many pieces of grass stuck in between the cracks. It helps. Only a little though. 

First up was the goodbyes for Angela. Jasmine was slightly crying, but she wiped those tears away. I knew they were close. Isabelle had hugged Angela up close, and then Ryker and Dylan all gave her a makeshift hug. Angela ran up to me, giving me a tight hug. I only slightly jumped, trying to seem comfortable around Ryker’ siblings. I admit, the ugly bothered me, but was I just supposed to deny a four-year old child a hug? I remember when I was little that was all I wanted. 

Dylan joked around with Lucky before letting him down on the ground. Lucky waved a goodbye to everyone. I was kind of surprised that was it. Then again, he was fifteen. I doubt he’d want his own siblings embarrassing him in front of me. I wouldn’t think anything of it. Not like I don’t do anything embarrassing all the time. 

“Thanks again. You didn’t have to.” Ryker thanked me, giving his best smile. I couldn’t help but catch the way the edges of his mouth twitched. This was hard for him to see them leave. It would be hard for me too if you only had your siblings left in the world and now they had to leave because it wasn’t safe for them. Maybe they don’t trust me all too much… If that’s the case then I was their only hope. 

They had all left, except for Jasmine, who crouched down and brought her face close to me, a mean and annoyed look on her face. I let out a quiet squeak, backing up. Lucky just stood in front of me, shaking his head. He doesn’t have to defend me- 

“If I find out that they even have the slightest little bruise, I’ll murder you.” She promised, standing up and now joining the rest of her siblings. A shiver ran down my spine. 

“Ah don’t take her seriously. She’s a real softie once you get to know her.” Lucky patted me on the back while Angela grabbed his hand. Yeah… Only joking he says. I think she means it when she gets that close to me. 

We walked back to my house where my mom handed them a plate full of my cookies, which they both gladly took and ate in the matter of seconds. My mom sat with Angela in the empty room playing, “tea party” with whatever stuffed animals Angela brought. Meanwhile, Lucky and I were watching a movie on the couch in the living room. 

“Thanks,” He started, I picked up my head, “Ryker told me about what happened last night. When he tried to grab you I mean.” 

I looked down at the floor. I still feel bad about it. Who wouldn’t? He wasn’t even trying to hurt me and I just… Agh. 

“You’re not afraid of him in general, right?” He asked. I quickly shook my head. He could never purposely scare me. It’s what he can do that scared me. Not to mention that I sometimes get those terrible nightmares which make everything a million times worse. So, no, it’s not Ryker I’m afraid of. 

“Well, all I can say is that you’ll feel better if you tell him about whatever happened to you. I know from experience. He’ll help in any way he can.” Lucky flashed me a smile, then continued to watch the movie. 

Would he really though? Anytime I’ve ever told someone and they tried to help, they just give up on me about two weeks in. What’s so different about this time? That it’s someone my age? I think that makes it worse. 

But, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea… maybe I should? 

———————————————

Ahhh oh how I love when it ends with a rhetorical question. Will he? Will he not? Hahaaa I can’t wait to post the next chapter. (I’m crushing my own soul with this one) :D

Thank you for reading!!!

(Also, WHATTTT two chapters in the span of 24 hours?? Impossible)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

lies are only as good as the person telling them (and you’ve never claimed to be) part 4

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Pairings: bishops/nolan booth

Warnings: gunshot wound

Word Count: 3089

Nolan gets shot, the Bishops have to deal with their feelings.

"Drive," Sarah orders, pressing her hands hard to Booth's side. John pulls the car around and the tires squeal as more gunshots ricochet off the back bumper. She grits her teeth and presses harder, willing the blood to stay inside Booth's body. "Stay awake, do you understand?"

"I understand that you're currently fighting with my ribs, yeah." Booth yowls like a cat as she pushes down harder. "Hey, hey! Take it easy, I bruise like a peach."

"You're not sweet enough to be a peach," she mutters, too caught up in the fact that Booth is bleeding out from a bullet he took from her to worry about the words coming out of her mouth, not when he's rapidly losing color in his cheeks. "Just stay awake."

Even with his paling face, he still manages to make an offended pout. "I'm plenty sweet enough! I even have the rock-hard pit in my—okay, okay, ow, ow!"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when I'm awake."

"Keep him talking," John barks from the front seat, "as long as there's bullshit coming out of his mouth, we know he's not about to die."

"Aw, you do love me."

She hears the hitch in John's breath better than Booth does, she's sure, and she doesn't imagine the way John leans into the curves of the road a little more, trying to get them through the next mile before Booth ends up bleeding to death all over the back seat. She grits her teeth again and pushes even harder. Booth winces, his expression contorting in pain, but he doesn't say anything else.

"What were you thinking?" Sarah hisses, shifting her grip as the car swerves around a turn.

"I was thinking that I'd rather not see you get shot right in front of me," Booth grits out, "that's what I was thinking."

"That was reckless of you."

Booth huffs a wet laugh. "What, making sure you don't get shot? You're welcome, by the way, and yeah, maybe not my finest moment, but you tell me how polished and suave you'd be if you saw someone pointing a gun at your partner."

Sarah's hands stutter and her gaze snaps up to Booth's. Booth isn't looking away, isn't biting his lip, doesn't look like he regrets what he said at all. No, it's far worse than that; despite Sarah's best efforts, his eyes are dropping lower and lower. His breathing is slowing under her hands and in a panic that she will deny later because Sarah Black does not panic, she presses down hard enough that she can feel something under her give.

But it works. Booth's eyes snap open again and he stares at her.

"Stay awake," she orders and it comes out more like a plea, "just stay awake until we can get you someplace safe."

The corner of his mouth tugs up the smallest bit and she hates how much she hates the fact that it looks like such a pale imitation of his normal smirk. "The Bishop has a heart after all, how touching."

"You're one to talk," she scoffs if only to cover up her relief that he's talking again, "you just took a bullet for me."

"Which I still can't tell if you're happy I did or not." He coughs once, twice, as the car swerves around yet another turn. "I'd ask if it'd kill you to say thank you, but I think I know the answer already, so—"

"Thank you."

Booth stops. His mouth drops open. "Okay, I definitely must be dying because I could've sworn you just said 'thank you,' and I—"

"You are not dying," she says firmly, as blood covers her hands, "and I did say thank you."

He goes to say something else—I'm sure it was excellent, Nolan, don't worry—but then he's coughing again and the wound under her hands gushes. She pushes harder and gets him to lie down in the backseat, climbing on top of him and using her full weight to press down on the bullet wound.

"Whoa," he mumbles, half-dazed, half-confused, "if this was all it took to get you on top of me, then…"

He trails off before he can finish his sentence and despite everything, she smiles. "If it's what you wanted, you could've just asked."

"Nah…you'd keep it from me," comes his reply, voice beginning to slur, "you're…you're so clever…you'd make—make me work for it…"

"Booth? Booth!"

"'S okay," he mumbles, eyes starting to droop again, "jus' a…jus' a minor s'tback, see? 'S not…'s none of my b'sness anyway…"

"Stay awake," she pleads again, pushing down as hard as she can as John curses and swerves again, "stay awake Nolan, you need to keep your eyes open. Just look at me, alright? Can you do that?"

Nolan's eyes blink open slowly and a slow smile manages to make its way onto his face. The soft sort of smile you see when the person isn't thinking about it, the one you can't really feel until someone points it out. Nolan is giving her that sort of smile now, as she presses down on the wound that should have been hers, as John drives them through the streets of Paris. Nolan just looks up at her, and he smiles, and how could she ever have believed him capable of the same sort of cruelty she was?

"There," she hears herself say as his breathing grows raspier and raspier, "it's okay, Nolan, you're going to be alright. We're going to get you someplace safe and fix you up, right? Then you'll be quipping and annoying us just like you always do, alright?"

"Tha's me," he slurs, "pain in the ass."

John's hysterical chuckle mixes with hers as Nolan grins with dopey pride. Something terribly sad occurs to her then as she has to adjust to keep her balance.

Is this all he expects from them? Just the occasional bone thrown to the world's most annoying dog? Does he think that's all he is to them?

Too late does she realize that in her moment of distraction, Nolan's eyes have fully closed.

"Booth? Booth!" She pushes down harder. "Nolan!"

***

"In here," John says, rushing to the bedroom and laying the too-limp form of Nolan Booth on top of the sheets, "grab the kit from the bathroom."

Sarah is off the next moment, her shoes clicking across the floor as John rips open Nolan's shirt and throws his own jacket to the side. He curses—the bullet's already gone through and through, which is why Sarah was having such a hard time keeping all the blood inside him in the car, and why he's still losing color.

"Here," comes Sarah's voice and he rips the kit open immediately, "I'll get everything else."

He barely has time to shoot a thanks or even an acknowledgment over his shoulder as he gets to work. Nolan will not die on their watch, they won't let him. He's a goddamn stubborn son of a bitch but they're more stubborn than he is put together, and they're sure as hell not gonna let him slip away.

"You think you can just tap out now and make us do the rest of the work?" he finds himself muttering as he works over the limp body. "Not a chance in hell. This whole thing was your idea to begin with, so you're damn well gonna stick around until it's done, you hear me?"

Nolan doesn't say a word, and John curses the part of him that ever wanted to shut Nolan up for good. He doesn't want that, he bargains with the universe, he wants the Nolan that pokes and prods at them all the time like it's his goddamn job. He wants the quips and the jokes and the innuendoes that perfectly walk the line between funny and too crass. He wants the asshole that's unfairly good at singing on key while he works on the blueprints or the lockpicking kits. He wants the dipshit who went right up to the people who betrayed them, double-crossed them right back, and then invited them to work with him on the biggest score they could ever remember.

He wants Nolan Booth, damnit, and if this bullet takes him from them before they've even gotten a chance, he's gonna march right down to whatever pit in hell they decide to stick his soul and drag him back to the land of the living.

"Come back here, you prick," he mutters as he gently cleans away the worst of the blood so he can see what he's doing, "you're not getting away from us that easily."

Sarah's hands join his and together, they patch the worst of the bleeding before Nolan can bleed out. He lifts him carefully in his arms as Sarah ruthlessly strips the sheets from the bed, tossing the mattress protector too for good measure. She remakes the bed with astonishing speed and strides to the bathroom to start getting the blood out. It's what she needs to do, he knows, pour her frustration at the situation into something so it doesn't blow up in their faces, but that doesn't make him move from his self-appointed vigil over the too-still Nolan.

Just watching his chest go up and down, up and down.

When night's fallen and Sarah's scrubbed the sheets within an inch of their lives, she comes to sit next to him. They don't say anything, just sitting silently as the moonlight spills across the bed. Nolan's hands are still bloody. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, getting a washcloth and running it under the warm water. He goes back to the bedroom and picks up one of Nolan's hands in his, tenderly cleaning the blood from his knuckles. When he's finished with the hand, he offers the washcloth to Sarah. She takes it and cleans his other hand as John keeps a hold of the one in his.

"I think he'd be a great dancer," Sarah murmurs after an eon, her eyes still on Nolan's knuckles.

"I think so too."

There's another moment of quiet.

"I think," Sarah says again, her voice even quieter, "if you asked him to dance, he would say yes."

John swallows around the lump in his throat. "Yeah?"

"You might have to ask a few times," and now Sarah's holding Nolan's hand too, the washcloth draped over the foot of the bed, "and he's probably going to say no at first."

"But you think if I show him I really want to dance," John finishes, "you think he'd say yes?"

"I do."

They look at each other across the too-quiet room.

"Are you—" he stops to clear his throat— "are you gonna ask him to dance too?"

She looks down at him, her fingers idly toying with the cuff of his sleeve. "I don't know if he wants to dance with me."

He huffs. "Didn't sound like that in the back seat."

"But that's who he is," she says back, "he makes the jokes and he takes the hits because it's expected of him."

"But he doesn't do things he doesn't believe in."

"You're biased," she says with the ghost of a smile.

"Of course I am," he says and she laughs, "but so is he. You two had a thing going way before he even knew about me."

"That was different."

"Is it?"

She looks at him, and she looks at Nolan, and she slowly lets out a long breath.

"He needs to wake up first," is her eventual concession, "and then…then it's going to take him a while before he's up to dancing."

"That's okay with me. Is it okay with you?"

She smiles and she looks like the Sarah Black he knows and loves again. "No one ever got anything worth having without having the right amount of patience."

See, he says silently to the sleeping Nolan Booth, we're waiting for you, you asshole, come wake up already.

***

When Nolan wakes up, he's very, very confused.

Because in the world he fell asleep in, he was very much the reluctantly dragged third wheel of the Bishops, who only teamed up with him because he blackmailed them into it. He was spat on and kicked around because he was an easy target and hey, he could give insults as good as he got. They kept him around because he was good, goddamnit, and he knows how to set up a good score. They needed him, and he needed them, and that was it. He took the hits because they couldn't hurt him in ways they hadn't already, and he took the good moments because he's a greedy bastard who doesn't know when to stop himself.

Including taking a bullet for the fucking Bishop.

Things got really hazy in the back seat, and not in the good, sexy way, but in the incredibly un-sexy blood loss way where he's not quite sure what happened, but he has vague memories of Sarah on top of him, telling him to stay awake, and saying thank you. He's not really sure what to make of those, nor what embarrassing things he ended up saying, but he's pretty sure that that world at least by and large makes sense.

The world he wakes up in, on the other hand…

Well, for starters, he blinks awake on a bed. Not a hospital bed, not a hotel bed, but an actual fucking bed. Hartley and the Bishop's bed, to be more specific, in that shitty little apartment on the outskirts of Paris. His mind would love to conjure up all the fun reasons why this could be happening, but then there's a blooming ache in his side and his head is pounding and the bed is cold, cold, cold.

Except it isn't, because there's a body like a fucking space heater right next to him, and he just manages to crane his neck to one side to realize it's Hartley. Actual, built-like-a-brick-shithouse Hartley, who blinks awake and smiles at him like he's something worth smiling at.

"Hey," he says, voice all soft and rough from sleep, "you feeling okay?"

Uh, no, he's pretty sure he's either died and gone to heaven or woken up in some parallel universe.

"Here," Hartley says, sitting up and reaching over him for the glass of water on the nightstand, "you're gonna be dehydrated, drink up."

Nolan goes to lift his hand when his body informs him that no, moving is not allowed right now, and a pained hiss escapes through his teeth before he can stop himself. Concern flickers openly across Hartley's face and he's sitting up more, turning and sliding a hand under Nolan's head to let him drink.

Water never tasted so good.

"That's enough for now," Hartley says when he's managed half the glass, "don't want you sick on top of the bullet."

Right. The bullet. The bullet he took for the Bishop. The Bishop—

"Hey, hey, hey," Hartley soothes as he starts to panic, one large hand pressing him down into the mattress, "shh, calm down. She's okay, she's just in the kitchen."

"Is he awake?"

"Yeah, he's up, he wants to see you."

"Don't—" he coughs through his dry throat— "don't put words in my mouth."

But then the Bishop actually comes around the corner and he can't stop the way he sags in relief at seeing her unharmed. She comes over to the bed, sitting down near his hand, and—and picking it up and putting it in her lap.

Uh, no, I definitely died and went somewhere else. What the fuck is happening?

Oh.

Oh.

It's just part of their ploy, isn't it? To get him to—to—well, he doesn't know what the fuck else they want from him at this point. Shit, he just took a bullet for the Bishop and now he's completely and utterly at their mercy, what the fuck else could they want? It's not like he's in any position to stop them if they wanted to do something right now, they could just go and do the score and leave him here on this bed, in the apartment, all by himself, while they go and he's left alone, all alone—

"Hey, hey…"

"Shh…don't cry, Nolan."

"Look at me. Hey, Booth—Nolan, look at me."

There's a hand on the side of his face. The side of his face is wet. Why is the side of his face wet? Oh. One of them said don't cry. Is he crying?

"Do you need more painkillers?" There's still a hand on his face. "Sarah, can you—"

The hands on his start to pull away and he's clutching at them desperately before he can snap at himself to stop it. But it's too late, the Bishop is sitting back down and they're having a murmured conversation and then there's a cool hand on his face too.

"Don't worry," comes her voice, smooth and soft as fresh water, "we're not leaving, Nolan."

"You're stuck with us," Hartley agrees.

But—but—but that doesn't make sense. Nothing in this world makes sense and he wants to go back to the other one where at least things made sense, where things hurt but at least he knew when to expect it, not here where he has no idea what's going on and he just wants everything to go back to normal and then he won't be guessing, second-guessing, triple-guessing everything until they leave him again.

"Silly boy," the Bishop says fondly as tears drip like razorblades down his cheeks—there goes his resolve never to let them see how badly they hurt him— "did you think I would let you take a bullet for me and then let you leave without giving me a chance to pay it back?"

"I—I didn't—I didn't mean—"

"Shh," Hartley soothes, his big hand moving to card through Nolan's hair, "calm down, Nolan, it's okay. We can talk about this again when you wake up properly, just rest for now. You've worn yourself out."

"I'll wear you out," he mumbles back, more out of instinct than anything, and Hartley chuckles warmly.

"It's a promise, big guy."

Nothing makes sense right now, Nolan decides as that big hand lulls him right back to sleep, but if the Bishop is promising they're not going to leave him alone, and Hartley is laughing at his stupid jokes, he thinks that maybe he could figure out a way to make this world work.

Just for a little while.

[gutsby]

guts! i am here to ruin the vibe with a career question. but i’ve seen other people do it here! i am considering law school but i am naturally negative. i always think of all the reasons i should not do something before i think of the reasons i should go for it haha i’m a few years out undergrad around your age, really hating my career direction rn. i have been told i’d enjoy legal career because i tend to be nerdy, enjoy research and thrive in highly structured environments. i think pursuing a career path that has a clearer pathway could be very positive me. but i get in my head about the amount of debt you take on, the fact i m don’t know what practice area i would pursue, all this stuff you hear about the difficulties in law because it’s a gilded profession. or stuff about there being a larger supply of lawyers relative to jobs available. i shit the bed a couple years of undergrad because i was going through it at the time so undergrad gpa is mid. i don’t wanna be someone who does it for the wrong reasons ig? anyway i am dropping this in your inbox to ask what you think about all my negative thoughts (and i’m SO sorry i did, it’s a buzzkill and irrelevant) but figured i would get a more kind yet honest response than on reddit where people tell you to go kys when you ask for advice lol. congratulations on your engagement and adorable new puppy. 🥹

DUDE!!!! Never apologize for asking questions like these - I get SO excited to hear of people considering law school, and I want to help in any way that I can!! (I’ll try to start tagging these so y’all can have them in one place!)

What you’re feeling is completely normal—and A LOT like how I felt before I started applying places. It’s obviously important to keep the financial reality of the situation in mind (these fuckers ain’t cheap) and to remain practical to a degree, but PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE don’t count yourself out of an opportunity on those feelings of fear/uncertainty/negativity alone! You are capable of so much more than you think. OKAY CORNY, YES, BUT LET ME EXPLAIN,,,, I didn’t even have law school on my radar until like…almost halfway through senior year. I spent three semesters getting my ass beat in pre-med before that, which TANKED my GPA, and when I switched to Poli Sci I had no fucking clue what I wanted to do with it. Now that you’re a few years out of undergrad, your GPA matters even less, and you can do a whole lot more with your LSAT, personal statement, outside experience, etc!

It’s awesome that you have years under your belt outside academia, because that will absolutely help keep you grounded through the hell that is 1L and beyond—as a K-JD with zero experience in another career, it was easy to feel like grades were the be-all and end-all. They weren’t. For reference, my law school’s median GPA for its incoming class was like a 3.95, and mine was MUCH lower. On paper, it seemed like a long shot. Apply anyway!!!

As for not knowing what area you’d like to practice in, don’t sweat that at all. Like, at all. Not to sound flippant but honestly nobody knows what the fuck they really wanna do coming in, and the ones who think they do often change their minds after their 1L internship LOL. It happens. Another personal anecdote but I only found my current practice area through attending an informational meeting on the masters program during 2L! I didn’t even know if I would like it, but I was lost on what I wanted to do otherwise and liked the idea of two degrees for the price of one LOL so I thought why not. If you have questions about JD/LLM programs too lmk!!

Depending on the city, I’m sure certain markets are oversaturated and the competition is nuts. But YOU. CAN. SPECIALIZE. Find a niche area where you excel! Try an internship in a city you’ve never lived (I did it twice and now I’ve relocated to someplace I never thought I would). The legal profession is far from where it needs to be in terms of accessibility/inclusivity/not being a bunch of elitist fucking pricks, but it has changed a lot over the years, and you deserve a chance to be part of it, if that’s what you want!

OKAY RAMBLING OVER!! I hope this helps in some way!!! If you ever have questions or just wanna talk at any time, I’m always here, and I am ROOTING FOR YOU 🫶🏼 Best of luck with whatever you choose to do and wherever you end up!!!! 🩷🩷

(and thank you for the well wishes!!! 🥹💓)

[shewantedtoandsoshedid]

This man text me to check on me after the storm...

I'm a little upset he didn't text me before the storm, but I didn't even think to text him at all tbf. I don't even think that he text his girlfriend beforehand; their relationship is so weird and distant to me. Far be it from myself to understand the intricacies of being Catholic and modern dating... Anyways I think her and I are probably the only two people he text... Our mentor probably text him.

Idk... Either I'm his only friend or there's still something there. Like if he gets married, his brother will be his best man, but who else will be standing up there with him as a groomsmen? He's too traditional to have a woman up there and honestly I wouldn't want to. Does she have so few close friends too that it works out? Will it just be uneven? Probably boy cousins if he has any... I'd join for a bachelor party, that he'll probably get roped into and hate tho.

None of this is actually my problem. They might be engaged already at this point, tho on his salary? I doubt it. I am one two people he cared enough about to make sure that I was alright and offer help to, outside of his family. Well if they've been dating this long, I suppose that makes her family... Okay so I'm the one person outside his family. Lol

Idk man. Someone said when you make guy friends effortlessly, it's called pretty privilege and you just have to make sure that your guy friends have the best intentions. Idk that that's true. I've always felt more like one of the guys, but maybe all the guys never saw me that way? Maybe I projected that they only saw me as one of the guys and really they saw me as a pretty and chill girl. As an adult most of the men I've been friends with have shot their shot or indicated that they wanted to at least.... Fuck, why did nobody tell me I'm pretty after like age 10?! That's when we need to hear it most! Yanno, a friend was talking to this guy on my behalf once in high school and asked what he thought of me... And his answer was, "she aight". I knew enough about self esteem to walk away from that dude, but I don't know that I ever let go of that mentality (funnily enough, his cousin was head over heels for me; but I'm fairly sure he just wanted to fuck, I bet he was pretty annoyed that I liked his tall, dark, and handsome cousin. Oh well, maybe don't be a lech; cause like this to be clear, the lecherous cousin wasn't ugly on the outside). I was not gorgeous, but not ugly, just me; just aight.

And so when my ex came along calling me beautiful I thought here's someone that sees me and isn't afraid to say it, but everything she ever said was just lies for her own personal gain. So where does that land me...? Determining my own worth again, someplace I'm very well acquainted with; but struggle to navigate. And honestly, while physical features have moved me, they've never been the most important thing I sought out in partners. All of the gorgeous men I've been friends with had to have good personalities as well; call me greedy.

What I want is the express opinions of every man I've ever met so that I can analyze all the data and draw conclusions. Especially if they found me attractive from the start or only after they got to know me, like I suspect. 🤔 I'm discounting the opinions of women because in general the women I hang out with would find anyone beautiful I think. They'd never call someone ugly because of their physical features. I also have to acknowledge the how much racism and exoticism might have factored into my experiences. 🙃

The data may be imperfect, but I still want it. I want to understand how others see me; how they value me. Sure I'm smart, that's never been in doubt, but what else do you value about me?

[agathaharkness-simp]

random robin buckley headcanons yea (ft. ronance and platonic stobin)

(i also projected extremely on her btw, it’s not my fault her whole personality is also mine)

- so we all agree that robin is at least neurodivergent right? anyways robin has so many rings and stuff to stop herself from picking at skin/nails. they don’t work as a distraction all the time but it’s better than having her fingers covered bandaids 24/7. steve would notice sometimes and give her something to occupy her hands or, if they’re someplace where they can’t goof around, he’ll let her play with his hands.

- robin loves having inside jokes with people but absolutely hates when she doesn’t understand other peoples inside jokes.

- robin is an abba lover.

- robin has a really messy room but still organized in a sense. everything is where you can see it, not put away in a drawer and forgotten, making it easier to locate her things. she will get upset if someone moves something and doesn’t tell her where they put it.

- her sleep schedule is not even a schedule at this point. there’s no pattern at all. she’ll be sitting on her bed with like dozens of papers for like a new language one night. and then a couple days later, she’s in steve’s car and telling him about the great 16 solid hours she slept.

- speaking of sleeping, she has the most bizarre dreams (like argyle in my jargyle hc’s) and will retell each dream as many times as it takes for everyone to hear about it. but as she’s telling this one person about a dream, she’ll remember something else that happened in that dream and then everyone gets the same story but slightly different from each others.

- won’t wear any other shoe except converse.

- has been rotating the same 4 outfits for like 2 years now. she’s very picky about whether this plain shirt should go with blah blah. she’s just gotta look cool in public.

- secretly loves her hair as much as steve loves his.

- robin obviously likes to doodle on things (her shoes) so steve and nancy will let her draw on them. they both got a little too trusting with the maturity of her art and then ended up with male and female genitals drawn all over them (she switched out her sharpie for a pen on those ones because she would feel bad after). she writes little jokes and would just wait for her victim to question it.

- she likes rocks. not like a full on collector but just likes to point them out when seeing a shiny one. ok yea she’s not a collector but she definitely does have some cool rocks in her room somewhere.

- robin is a warm person. her body temp could get so high that she just wants to climb in a freezer. on the other hand, nancy gets super cold. her hands, nose, and ears specifically. so naturally, nancy is always staying really close to robin like robin’s her personal heater. robin unintentionally flirts with nancy using her furnace hands. like nancy would be wearing earmuffs and complaining how she’s just getting colder by the second. and then in comes robin taking off nancy’s earmuffs and holding her hands on each side of nancy’s head. nancy sticks to robin like glue after that.

- robin hasn’t lost one single staring contest (not counting the ones who cheat aka steve, dustin, and max). steve has to warn everyone who goes against her because he’s seen her stare at a wall for 4 minutes straight during their shift in family video. only one person has gotten close to beating her and that was jonathon.

- steve and robin have matching best friend necklaces like the cheap necklaces that would break in a millisecond. yet they still treat it as if it were sack of diamonds. they agreed that they’d bring the necklaces to the grave with them.

- robin gets super excited for other peoples birthday. like she gets to show her friends how much she appreciates them with gifts on the day of their birth!!!! so steve would give her a whole bunch of cash and just tell her to go crazy. and so she does. after his shift at family video, he gets to his house and finds decorations on decorations. there’s presents set by the table and everyone is there. the byers + the hoppers, the wheelers (minus t*d), the sinclairs, and the hendersons. his house has never truly looked like a home more than it has in this moment. robin knew this too. and robin wasn’t surprised when steve tried to wipe his eyes without anyone noticing. robin then hands him a wimpy looking cake with a giant cake art rendition of steve’s hair. it was the best god damn cake steve ever had.

(anyways i think imma leave it on that giant hc that definitely felt like more of a short fic lmao)

[gabzlovesu]

JEAN + SPARRING

a birthday drabble for jean. shoutout to @jeanslove because we were thirsting over this last month and she requested it <3

warnings: choking/chokehold, a bit of bickering (hehe yall know i like that), situationship, borderline fingering, innocent abuse of power, and cocky jean because ik that part of him is still in there somewhere! but damn he grew into a fine ass leader!

You dreaded sparring days, but you really hated today’s sparring session.

Okay, that’s kinda a lie, but you didn’t exactly love it either. It was supposed to be quick and easy, then everyone could have the rest of the day to themselves. That didn’t happen — at least not for you — and it was all Jean’s fault.

“Oh, so I get to train with the Commanding Officer himself? What an honor.” It might’ve been a little too early in the day for the sarcasm but what was he gonna do about it? And it was necessary to put up this fake act to keep your relationship a secret.

Well, it wasn’t really a relationship, but you were definitely something. There were way too many instances that you found yourself sneaking off to his room when everyone else was asleep, or ducking off someplace for a quick fuck.

“Yeah it is an honor, so you should get on your knees and show me some respect. Or will I have to make you?” He tosses his jacket to the side and stretches his arms a bit.

You fail to hold in a laugh at his bold statement. Although you loved bickering with him, he was enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “You think you’re the shit now because you have a fancy title and a little office? Huh, Jean?” You square up with him despite the obvious height difference — peering up with a look that can kill but he sends it right back at you.

He uses a hushed tone now, not wanting anyone nearby to hear. “I remember you having a very different attitude when I fucked you in that office. Should I refresh your memory?”

Jean did just that, putting you in the exact same headlock from when he had you bent over his desk. The only difference was that you were kneeling on the floor of the training room. The bastard was getting his way as usual.

“You don’t have to be so rough,” you croak out, his unrelenting arm holding you against his chest.

His mouth is right next to your ear and he mutters yet another slick comment. “We both know you like it rough baby.”

“Shut up… you asshole.”

He’s obviously getting a kick out of this right now, and his free arm creeping lower on your body proves it. Hazel eyes scan the room to see if anyone was paying attention to you, but everyone was too busy fighting their own partners. So he lets his hand slip between your legs, feeling how your body reacted to him.

“You’re really getting turned on by this? Do you want me to fuck you right here, in front of everyone?” Showing no restraint, he lets his hand do as it pleases and even grinds his hips against your ass. As you keep trying to wiggle out of his grasp he tightens the headlock even more, letting his smirk grow wide when you claw at his arm and tap the floor to forfeit.

As soon as he lets go you fall to your hands and knees, gasping for air. “Someone could’ve seen that you idiot.”

“Who cares?”

“I do. I don’t need anyone thinking I get special treatment for fucking with you.”

“Oh sweetheart, you’re not getting special treatment at all.” Jean gives a malicious smile, and you mentally groan as you prepare for whatever bullshit he was about throw your way. He turns to Levi, who had been walking around and watching the other groups. “I think this one needs some extra laps.” The dark-haired man only nods in approval and moves on to the next pair.

Deciding to be a little nice, Jean helps you off of the floor. The fact that he could switch his attitude on a dime was concerning because you never knew what to expect from him. “And stop by my office when you’re done.” He gives your body one glance over before strutting off.

Yeah… scratch that. He wasn’t being nice today, he was a total prick. “Screw you, Kirstein.”

“You’ll get the chance to do that when you come to my office,” he waves you off and keeps walking.

TAGLIST FORM:

tagging: @hungrynessforfics @dejwrites @rinhoes @iloveitblackbhna @protectpancakes @fight-me-bitch @nneedynymph @indiecursor @po3ticb3auty @nanaminshousewife @apollostears @cosmicglowe @thenerdyrebel @luffysthickwaifu @svlims @4ngrysgf @daichisbunnybaby @urwifey2 @picayunne @kurtaclangobrr @kookieflvr @woahhajime @novaresque @syomi @chrolloderulo @vivisspamm @dabilovesme @erentoes @kutosznn @queenmjp @sweeneyblue1 @tyga-lily @jeanslove @getoswhore @thicksimpx @cosmicyeager @sakurashell @38riku @tonaken @delphi-thefairy @muzanskimono @wiserebelpartypie @hellavile @g0revixen @yeagertv-deactivated20220405 @sleepy3 @simpliheavenli @festive @simpliheavenli

[atths--twice]

Chapter Twenty One

Plans continue to be made, the future becoming more secure.

Late March 

“I have something I want to run past you,” Fox said as Dana sat down to join him on her lunch break. 

“Uh oh,” she said with a smile, arranging their plates and picking up a spoon to eat her soup. “Do those words ever come before bad news of some sort?” 

“I would say usually you’re right,” he said with a chuckle. “But in this case, I hope it’s not.” 

“Okay. Lemme hear it,” she said, exhaling deeply and smiling. 

“It’s about finding a house. I’ve been looking at listings this morning and I have found a few, but…” He shrugged as he picked up a french fry and ate it. 

“But what?” she asked, pausing mid bite. “None are good?” 

“No, they are. But, I wanted to ask you something before I contacted anyone to look at them.” 

“Okay.” 

“What would you think about instead of looking here, we found a place closer to your family?” He stared at her as she set her spoon in her soup and then clasped her hands together. 

“I… I don’t know. I hadn’t thought… I mean, I had, but I wasn’t sure if you or even if I… Would you want that?” She looked at him and he schooled his emotions, not wanting to sway her opinion. 

“I’m asking you,” he said quietly. “You moved here, making a personal decision to do so. I wouldn’t want to diminish that decision by suggesting you move back if you didn’t want to.” 

“Fox,” she said, shaking her head and sighing. “I… I haven’t told you my whole reason for moving here.” 

“You said you needed a change.” 

“Yeah, I did. I also… God… I was feeling very confident in myself as a “do it all” type of mom,” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “I thought moving someplace on my own, with Ivy of course, would be… romantic. Not in a romance type way, but more grandiose, like a heroine striking out on her own.” She looked at him and he smiled. “Once I was here, I realized how hard it was without a family or friend unit around to lean on. I was very naive.” 

“Naive? No. You were young-”

“Hardly,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “It was a year and a half ago. I can hardly use “young” as an excuse as I was nearly twenty eight years old.” 

“That’s not young?” he asked with a smile. 

“No. Not… not enough to have those romantic types of ideas.” 

“Oh, Dana. Don’t ever say that,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “Romantic ideas are always good to have. If you hadn’t moved… if I hadn’t moved…” He smiled as she placed her hand in his and he squeezed. “Maybe it wasn’t for this type of romance, but we found it nonetheless.” 

“We did,” she admitted, squeezing his hand. “And it has been hard to be on my own with Ivy at times, but I think I did a good job.” 

“Good?” He shook his head and smiled. “You’ve done a fantastic job. You’re an amazing mother and Ivy is lucky to have you as the one who has nurtured and loved her.” 

“Stop,” she said softly, blinking quickly and looking around, her eyes wet. 

“Sorry, hon,” he replied, squeezing her hand again before letting go. 

“Do you want to move out of the city?” she asked, picking up a napkin and dabbing at her eyes. 

“Can I be perfectly honest with you? And not have it sway your own decision?” 

“Of course,” she said and he nodded as he let out a breath. 

“I would like to move away, yes,” he said, watching her as he spoke. She inhaled deeply, remaining silent as he swallowed. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with your family the times we’ve gone to visit. Very much so, in fact. Your brother seems like a great guy, always quick with a wonderfully awful dad joke. Tara… I swear that woman could run the world if someone only asked.” 

“She could,” Dana agreed, laughing out a quiet sob. 

“Melissa and Artie, they’re amazing. I appreciate the protectiveness he feels, especially after knowing how much he hated Jordan. Your sister… She's like a slightly older version of Samantha and I felt an immediate connection to her when we met. The day when she and Sam meet, I know it’s gonna be wild.” 

Dana laughed again, blowing her nose on a napkin and reaching for another to wipe her eyes. 

“But your parents, Dana…” he said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “They… Your dad… the way he finds a way to be by your mom, always winking or smiling at her. The way she rolls her eyes, but I see her smile. Hearing your mom laugh and your dad answering with his own chuckle, it’s so reminiscent of my parents. The love I always saw between my dad and mom, it seemed embarrassing when I was younger, but as I grew older, it was different. I saw it in a new light. And then it was gone.” He drew in a deep steadying breath and she grasped his hand, taking a shuddering breath of her own. “I didn’t know how much I missed seeing that, being around it, until we were at your parents house. It was like… like I had mine back for a moment.” 

“Fox,” she breathed, squeezing his hand tightly. 

“I moved here thinking I needed a change. To shake off the stagnancy of where I’d been. To move forward.” He laughed softly and looked at her. “But, what I want now is to go back. To be around family. I have Samantha, yes, but she has her own family unit in Greg and his family. I’m beyond thankful that she has that and for the time I have spent with them over the years. But now… I want that for myself. The spontaneous dinners, weekends planned together, school functions to attend, cousins coming over, birthdays and holidays together. I want all of that. I want that for me, for you, and especially for Ivy. I want her to grow up with her cousins as her first best friends, the secret keepers, the ones who hold her unbreakable trust.” 

“And my decision is not supposed to be swayed when you say something so beautiful?” she asked, letting go of his hand and reaching for the napkin holder, taking out at least ten napkins. He laughed and shook his head. 

“I was content on my own, living vicariously through my own stories and those of others, until I met you. And Ivy. And your family. Experiencing the happiness you all share, the stories, the memories… I want to be a part of it. I’ve missed it so much.” 

She let out a very long breath and blew her nose. Wiping her eyes again, she looked at him and smiled. 

“I want that too. Especially for Ivy.” She sniffled and let out a breath. “I’ve liked being here, I really have. I feel like it forced me to grow up and appreciate things differently. I also felt like I had to because going back was like admitting defeat. But going back now?  Because it’s what we all want? Well, that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve failed.” 

“Not one bit have you failed,” he said quietly. 

“No. I haven’t. I’ve thrived. I’ve grown and… going home now, with you and Ivy, will be different than when I left.” 

“You came to the city to find yourself and instead you found your soulmate,” he teased and then his eyes widened. “Oh... I should write that down. That’s a great idea for a book.” She laughed, blowing her nose once again, and shaking her head. 

“It sounds incredibly cheesy, but it’s the truth. I never expected you, Fox Mulder.” 

“I feel the same, Dana Scully,” he said, smiling at her and she smiled back. “So… we’ll get out of this city?” 

“If you’re sure it’s what you want.” 

“Count of three. Eyes closed, no peeking. Thumbs up or down. Ready?” he asked and she grinned despite her tears. 

“Ready?” 

They closed their eyes. He counted to three, sticking his thumb up the entire time. Opening his eyes, he saw her thumb up as tears were shining in her eyes again. Bumping his knuckles to hers, their thumbs kissed and he smiled. 

“So, should we look at some houses now? Or wait until later?” 

“Now,” she said, sniffling and reaching for a napkin as she rose from her seat and squished beside him as he reached for the laptop. 

“A tub,” she said, as he began to type. “I want a bathroom with a big tub.” 

“I already have that as a prerequisite on my mental list,” he said with a smile and a nod. “I know how much you enjoy the one at my apartment, so if I don’t see it in pictures, that’s a hard pass.” 

“Seriously?” she asked with a laugh and he nodded. 

“Remodeling or renovations is not what I want to be dealing with when it comes to finding a place. We’re looking for a place that’s ready to move into, with no issues. And if it doesn’t have your tub, it’s not worth our time.” 

She leaned close and kissed him, a hand gently pressed to his cheek. 

“I love you,” she said, kissing him again. 

“I love you too. Any other specific requests?” He asked as he pulled back and began typing. 

“A yard. A decent sized one. For Ivy and… a dog?” 

“A dog?” he asked, looking at her, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. 

“Would that be okay? You’re not allergic are you?” she asked. 

“I’m not,” he said with a smile. 

“So we could get one?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

She smiled and then laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

“A yard, please. For a dog,” she whispered and he smiled, kissing the top of her head as he began the search to find their new home, when something else occurred to him. 

“A fireplace. We need a fireplace for Santa to come down,” he said as she wrapped her arm around his and squeezed gently. 

“Yes,” she said, kissing his shoulder. “We definitely need a fireplace.” 

________________

“We’re all so glad you’re coming back, Dane,” Bill said on Saturday, picking her up in a bear hug that made her laugh. “The kids were so happy to hear it last night, they kept asking when Ivy would be coming over.” 

“I know,” she said, when he set her down. “Saffy and Delilah were dancing around her when we got here last night, all of them then running off to play, completely forgetting about us.” 

“Sounds about right,” Bill said with a laugh. Smiling at Fox, he shook his hand and clasped it with the other. “Good to see you, Fox.” 

“And you, Bill.” 

“Come on, let’s get going.” 

Bill drove them to the nearby coffee shop where they met Carson, one of Bill’s old friends who was a real estate agent. After getting a coffee, they piled into Bill’s truck. Fox took Dana’s hand and squeezed as they listened to Carson describe the homes they would be seeing. 

“Most of them are brand new and waiting for the perfect buyer. Bill actually built a lot of them. Or his company did as he’s passed the buck onto his crew and I can’t say I blame him. That’s a younger man’s game,” Carson said and they all laughed. 

“My dad was at a few of the builds helping on the weekends,” Bill informed him and Carson shook his head.  

“Your dad is a force unknown to others, that’s why.” 

“True,” Bill and Dana said together, as they laughed again.

They toured three of the new houses, and while they were all beautiful and ready to move in, they did not exactly meet their personal criteria. Fox could tell Dana was feeling discouraged and he hoped the next house would be better. 

“This one,” Carson said as Bill drove. “Was recently renovated. It has four bedrooms, four bathrooms-”

“Oh, the stained glass house,” Bill interrupted with a nod. “Hmm… oh… yeah. Yeah, I think you’ll like this one.” 

When they drove up to it, Dana gasped.

“Oh…” she said as they walked up to the front door and reached for Fox’s hand. “Look at that, it’s beautiful.” 

At the top of the white front door, there was a rectangular stained glass window with ivy in the corners, that joined together to meet pale pink flowers in the middle. 

“Ivy on the door,” Dana had whispered, squeezing his hand. “I think that’s a sign.” 

“I think it just might be,” he responded, knowing for certain when the door opened and Dana gasped again, holding his hand tightly. 

“Oh,” she said, stepping into the entryway and seeing the built-in bench and space for coats. “I know it’s just the entryway, but Bill, I think you’re right. I do like it.” He smiled at her as they continued inside. 

The floor plan was open and airy, walls recently removed to make it so. A small room off the living room would be perfect for his office. The main bedroom, kitchen, laundry room, full guest bathroom, and large living room were on the first floor. The remaining three bedrooms, plus a bonus living area, were upstairs. Two of the bedrooms shared a bathroom- Jack and Jill style. The other room had its own full bathroom attached to it. 

“I need to see the yard,” Dana said, letting out a deep breath. “It can’t be this perfect. There has to be a catch.” 

“Well,” Bill said, laughing as she started to run down the stairs and they followed after her. 

“Oh…” Dana said as she opened the door and stepped onto the deck. “It’s… it’s so…” 

“Perfect,” Fox said, looking at the string lights hanging overhead and imagining sitting under them on his outdoor furniture, perhaps with a small fire pit as well. 

“Ivy will love it,” Dana said, stepping down the stairs and walking around the high fenced yard. 

“Look at this tree. It’s like it was meant for a little treehouse. Something we can…” She turned around and looked at Fox. “I want this house. Tub, yard, and a fireplace.” She ticked off the small list of wants and smiled. “Stained glass ivy on the door.” 

He smiled back and looked at Carson, who smiled back with a nod. 

Mountains of paperwork were signed, negotiations made, inspections arranged and passed. When the green light came in quickly, as a large upfront payment was always appreciated, they purchased their new house with only two weeks to go before their wedding. 

When they took the train up to sign the last of the paperwork, pick up the keys, and walk through the empty house one more time before beginning their move, Ivy ran around upstairs, shouting with happiness. 

She had picked out her room the first time she came to see it and asked if the walls could be pink instead of white. A call to Bill, had led to a call to Maggie, who said it would be taken care of before they moved in, whatever shade of pink Ivy wanted. 

“Grandma will paint my room!” she called out and Fox and Dana laughed as they watched her from downstairs. 

Dana took his hand and squeezed, looking at him, but saying nothing. He smiled and squeezed back, sighing contentedly. 

“Will it be done before we move our stuff here?” Ivy asked, breathing hard as she stopped running and looked down at them, holding onto the white railing spindles. “Will it be pink before we move up here?” 

“It will,” Dana said, smiling up at her. “Grandma will see to it. We just need to tell her the exact color you want. We’ll pick it out tomorrow and tell her.” 

“Yay!” Ivy shouted, running back and forth again. 

“Ahh, to have the energy of a six year old,” Fox said and Dana laughed, squeezing his hand again and then letting go. 

“You ready?” she asked and he nodded. 

They would be moving in next week, but for the moment, to mark the occasion and show it was truly theirs, they had each brought one thing to leave behind.

“Ivy, honey?” Dana called up and Ivy came to the railing again, breathing hard. 

“Yes, Mommy?” 

“We’re going to join everyone for dinner soon. We need to put out the things we brought to christen the house as ours before we do, so let’s do it now.” 

“Okay!” 

She ran to the stairs and then sat on her bottom, sliding down the slightly curved carpeted staircase. Fox laughed and Dana shook her head with a smile when Ivy stood up and grinned at them. 

“That was fun!” 

“I’m sure it was,” he said. “Come on, wild girl.” 

He took her hand and they walked to the entryway where he took his item from a shopping bag.

“My dad always had his winter coat hanging in our entryway,” he said, hanging his black coat on a hook. “Sometimes he’d put candy in the pockets. Or money. But we had to remember to check. Samantha and I would race to see who got to it first, but there was always something for both of us. I’d like to do the same with my coat hanging here.” He looked at Dana and then Ivy. “Like a… pocket mailbox.” 

“Fox,” Dana said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I love that idea.” 

“Me too,” Ivy said, looking at his coat. “Is there anything in there now?” 

He shrugged with a smile and she grinned as she leapt forward to search the pockets. 

“Ahh!” she shouted, pulling a lollipop from one pocket and a pink heart shaped piece of paper from the other. She stared at them and then looked at Dana. “Can I have the lollipop?” 

“Of course you can,” Dana said with a quiet laugh. 

“You can have Fox’s heart,” Ivy said, handing her the pink paper heart. Opening the lollipop, she put it into her mouth. 

“Yes, you can,” Fox said to Dana, winking at her as she slipped the piece of paper into her pocket. 

“Better than a lollipop any day,” she said, stepping closer to him to give him a kiss. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, kissing her again. “Your turn.” 

They all walked to the large built-in bookcase by the living room and Dana took her collection of Ella’s books from her bag. Standing them lovingly and carefully, she smiled at Fox. 

“The trip to the bookshop and you sharing these books… that was the turning point. The slow moving turning point, because I definitely fought it,” she said and he smiled. “But being in there, sharing our love for books even further…” She shook her head and gently stroked the spines of the books. “These are something I will always treasure and I wanted them to be the first thing of mine in our home.” 

“I love it,” Fox said and Ivy nodded, though he wondered how much she truly understood. “Well, that leaves you, Miss Ivy. What did you bring?” 

She grinned and pulled her lollipop from her mouth. Handing it to him, she turned around and ran upstairs.

“Oh, I guess I’m holding this,” he said in surprise, looking down at the lollipop as Dana chuckled. 

“Just be glad it wasn’t gum,” she said and he chuckled as he nodded. 

Ivy came out of her room, ran to the stairs and slid down them again, her small unicorn backpack in her hands. 

“Is that how you’re planning to always come down the stairs?” Dana asked and Ivy nodded. 

“Yup! It’s very fun. And fast,” Ivy said, grinning at them. 

“Can’t say I blame you,” Fox laughed, offering her lollipop to her, but she shook her head. 

“I have the thing I want to leave here in my backpack, but you have to close your eyes and wait here,” Ivy said, looking from one to the other. “Close your eyes.” 

“Okay,” Dana said and Fox nodded as he closed his eyes, covering them with his unoccupied hand. 

“Don’t peek!” Ivy shouted, and he heard her running quickly from the room. 

“Hmm,” Fox said, taking his hand off his eyes, but keeping them closed as he reached out blindly for Dana’s hand. Finding her doing the same, their hands met halfway. “What do you suppose she’s doing?” 

“No idea,” she said, chuckling as she interlocked their fingers. “But she left her lollipop behind. It’s pretty serious.” 

He chuckled and squeezed her fingers as he held the lollipop in his other hand. 

“Okay!” Ivy called. “I’m ready, but you have to keep your eyes closed. I’ll bring you to it.” 

She took Dana’s hand and they all laughed as they went where Ivy led them, shuffling along slowly. 

“Stop! But don’t open your eyes yet,” Ivy said and they stopped, Dana squeezing his hand as they waited patiently. 

“Okay,” Ivy said softly. “You can look now.” 

Opening their eyes, it took a second to focus on what they were supposed to be seeing. But then, Dana let go of his hand and walked toward the dishwasher with a slight sob as she looked at the picture that had been placed there. 

“It’s us, Mommy. See? You and me and Fox. It’s us at the new house, standing in front of the ivy door. It’s all of us as a family. We’re going to be a family here now.” 

“Ivy,” Dana said, reaching for her as she cried and he stepped forward to look at the picture she had drawn of the three of them, laying the lollipop on the counter.

Ivy was standing in the middle, holding both of their hands, all of them beaming. The ivy door could be seen behind them, the pink flowers a perfect match to the real stained glass. 

“You brought magnets with you,” Fox said, kneeling down to look closer at the picture, amazed at her foresight to bring them.  

“I couldn’t find the tape,” Ivy explained and he laughed quietly as he shook his head. “Grandma’s dishwasher has magnets on them, so I thought it might work here too. Do you like it?” 

“Oh, Ivy… I love it,” he said, looking at her and smiling. “It’s a beautiful picture.” 

“It’s what I wished for on my birthday. I can tell you my wish now because it came true.” 

“You… wished for a house?” Dana asked through her tears. 

“No. I wished for us to be a family together. To live together as a family. I wished for it two times on my birthday. At home and then when we were at grandma’s house.” 

“Ivy,” Fox said, completely shocked as he reached for her and pulled her close, crying quietly as he held her. Dana’s arms went around both of them as she also cried, thanking Ivy for her wish and the beautiful picture she had drawn of them to show how her wish had come true. 

_________________

June 7th

11:30 a.m.

Fox stared at his reflection in the hotel room mirror and he shook his head as he exhaled deeply.  

“Why is this so hard? It’s like I’ve never worn a tie before,” he muttered as he untied his tie for the third time and hung his head as he closed his eyes. 

A knock sounded at the door and he let out a sigh of relief thinking it was Samantha, having forgotten her key. Hurrying to the door, he flung it open, prepared to ask for her help. 

But it was not Samantha, it was Dana’s mother. 

“Maggie,” he said in surprise. 

“Fox. May I come in?” she asked with a smile, holding a small plastic container that held his boutonnière. 

“Of course,” he said, opening the door wider and letting her enter. 

“Samantha is helping Ivy with her dress, so I offered to bring you your boutonnière.” 

“Oh, thank you,” he said. “If you leave it on the table, I can-”

“Would you mind if I put it on for you?” she asked softly, smiling kindly at him. “And maybe I could help with your tie?” 

“You don’t have to do that. Samantha is…” He stopped speaking and took a deep breath as he realized what exactly it was that Maggie was offering him. Swallowing hard, he nodded slowly. “I… I’d like that.” She smiled as she set the boutonnière on the table and walked over to him. 

“My father always wore a tie to work,” she said as she reached for his tie and he felt a lump lodge itself in his throat. “He showed me how to do it one day and then insisted I do it every morning, always patient when I would get it wrong. He said I would need to know how to do it in order to help my own husband one day. Well…” She chuckled and he forced a smile, his emotions near the surface. “Imagine his surprise when I married a man who has worn a tie only a handful of times in his entire life. A man who prefers to wear flannel shirts and jeans everyday. He has no need for ties, but I’m glad to have learned how to do it anyway.” She chuckled and he exhaled with a soft smile as she tapped the knot she had made. “There. How’s that?” 

He stepped past her and looked in the mirror, nodding with extreme relief. 

“It’s perfect. Thank you so much, Maggie.” 

“Of course, dear. Now, we just need to pin your boutonnière onto your jacket. Slip it on and we’ll get that taken care of.” 

He hurried to do her bidding, taking his black jacket from the chair and sliding it on. 

“Hmm,” she hummed as she smoothed the back down and then adjusted the lapels. “It’s a very handsome suit and you wear it very well.” 

“Thank you,” he whispered, swallowing hard once again. 

“I know you know about… Jordan,” she said as she took from his jacket pocket, the folded white pocket square that matched Dana’s dress. “I hated what he did to my girl. To both of them.” She arranged the pocket square and then placed it back into his pocket, fussing with it a bit more until it was just right. “I wasn’t sure she would ever find someone deserving of her. Someone who loved and appreciated Ivy. But…” She smiled at him and patted his chest, turning to pick up the container holding the boutonnière. 

He stood still, trying not to cry, thinking of his own mother doing this for him. What she would have said to him in this private moment. How much she would have loved Dana and Ivy, doting on them both and spoiling Ivy with gifts and treats every time she saw her. He let out a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes despite his best efforts to stop them. 

“Here, dear,” Maggie said softly and she handed him a few tissues. 

Taking them from her with a nod, he wiped his eyes, blew his nose, and then wiped his eyes again. 

“Would you rather do it yourself?” Maggie asked just as softly, holding the boutonnière in her hand. “Or wait for your sister?” 

“No,” he said in a raspy voice. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’d like you to do it, please.” She smiled and nodded, stepping closer to him. 

She did not speak as she pinned the boutonnière to his lapel and for that he was thankful. Sniffling and wiping at his eyes, he drew in another deep breath. 

“There,” she whispered when she was finished, stepping back slightly and patting his chest again. “It looks great.” 

“Thank you, Maggie,” he whispered, sniffing again. 

“Thank you, Fox. For loving my girls and bringing them back home,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re part of our family.” 

“Me too,” he whispered and she smiled, patting his cheek gently. 

The door beeped and then opened, both of them turning to see Samantha standing there. She smiled and Maggie dropped her hand from his face. Squeezing his arm, she smiled at him again. 

“That’s my cue to go see how things are going. See you out there soon, Fox.” 

“Maggie,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. “Thank you again.” 

“Of course, dear.” She patted his arm and walked past him, squeezed Samantha’s arm, and left the room. 

Exhaling a long breath, he looked at Samantha and knew at that moment that she had sent Maggie to him. There was nothing that needed to be done with Ivy’s dress. She had sent Maggie to him because she knew he needed her there. 

“Sammy,” he breathed and she came to him, taking his hands and squeezing. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, brother,” she whispered, their foreheads touching as they each drew in a breath. Squeezing his hands again, she pulled back and smiled at him. “You ready?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Then let’s get this show on the road,” she let go of his hands and began running through the checklist of items they needed. He nodded to each one and she grinned. “Let’s go get you married.” 

He laughed and nodded, exhaling once again. 

______

Walking out from a side door with Samantha, his best woman, he let out a deep breath as he stood beside the wedding officiant. Everyone seated looked at them, smiling happily. Trying to smile back, he suddenly felt incredibly nervous and anxious. 

“It’s okay,” Samantha whispered, the backs of her fingers brushing his, her pinky locking with his for a quick second. “Breathe, Fox. We can’t have you fainting on us.” 

And that was enough to ease his anxiety. Picturing himself falling face first to the ground, everyone gathering around and worrying over him, made him want to laugh. Glancing at Sam quickly, she smiled and nodded, all of his nervousness gone.  

Music began to play and his attention was drawn to the back of the room, his heart beginning to beat faster. 

Melissa, Dana’s matron of honor, entered the room from his left and paused at the end of the aisle before continuing down. She winked at him as she then stood to his right, holding a small bouquet of long stemmed gerbera daisies. 

Ivy, in a dress with a pink bodice and a light pastel rainbow full skirt, her hair pulled halfway back in an intrinsic braid, the rest of it in loose curls, came down the aisle next. Holding tight to her golden flower basket, with rainbow ribbons woven through it, a special small seat created by Maggie on which Pandy was secured so as not to miss out on the activities, Ivy grinned and fairly skipped as she dropped silk flower petals onto the ground. 

She smiled with excitement when she reached the front, standing beside Melissa and glancing often at Fox who winked at her with a grin. 

When Dana entered the room and stood with her father at the end of the aisle, everyone rose to their feet, and Fox drew in a breath. 

In a simple, yet elegant white dress, her hair done in an elaborate side knot near her neck with stray pieces curling loosely around it, she beamed as they seemed to float down the aisle. Her eyes on him and him alone, made his heart race and his mouth go dry. 

She handed Melissa her bouquet of flowers and then took his hands in hers, her eyes shining as she smiled. The officiant began to speak, but Fox did not hear a word, his thoughts and attention on Dana only. 

“Fox,” Samantha hissed behind him and he blinked. Dana bit her lip as she smiled and he knew he had missed something. 

“Sorry,” he whispered and Dana squeezed his hands as he heard laughter from the guests. 

“I asked if you came here today of your own free will and without reservation,” the officiant said with a smile. 

“No. No reservations,” he said, smiling at Dana. 

“Me either,” she said, glancing at the officiant and then looking back at Fox. “No reservations.” He grinned at her and she smiled back. 

Again, he heard nothing until Dana’s eyes widened and she cut her eyes to the officiant. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and another chuckle was heard. 

“Did you have something you wanted to share?” the officiant asked.

“Yes,” Fox said, nodding at Dana and licking his lips. “Dana, I told you before that I never expected this to be my journey. Never thought I’d be here. But then… I walked into a diner and saw your crooked apron bow and heard you laugh, and I was gone.” He smiled as she drew in a deep breath, tears filling her eyes. “It was meant to be. A part of the journey I didn’t even know about yet- to spend the rest of my life loving you.” 

“Dana?” the officiant said, smiling as he looked from Fox to her. 

She let go of Fox’s hands and accepted a tissue from Melissa to wipe her eyes before she drew in a deep breath, took his hands again, and began to speak. 

“Fox,” she said, shaking her head. “My life plan did not include you. Did not include so much. But… plans don’t stay the way we feel they should. Sometimes it’s bad, but sometimes it’s good. So very good.” She smiled and shook her head again. “I’m beyond happy you came into the diner. Into my life, to join me on my path. On our path.” She glanced at Ivy, who was touching the ribbons on her basket, and she smiled. “Our lives will be much better with you by our side.” 

He grinned at her and then Samantha was handing him Dana’s ring and he was placing it onto her finger, his hands shaking as he promised to love and honor her all the days of his life. 

She smiled, tears shining in her eyes, as she then placed his ring onto his finger and repeated the same promise. 

“By the giving and exchanging of rings, the promise to one another in their vows, and the power vested in me-”

“Here it comes!” Ivy said in an excited squeaky voice, interrupting the officiant. 

Fox and Dana both looked at her with a smile as everyone laughed. Her basket was hanging on her arm and she held Pandy in her hands, close to her face, her smile and excitement infectious. 

“Well,” the officiant said with a chuckle. “Not wanting to keep anyone waiting… by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” 

Fox leaned in, pressing his lips to Dana’s and kissing her softly. As everyone clapped and shouted, it was Ivy’s shout of happiness that was the loudest in the room and heard above all others. 

_____________

Fox took Dana and Ivy by the hand, leading them to the table where the marriage license was to be signed. Melissa, Samantha, and the officiant had just signed it and now it was time for him and Dana to add their signatures. 

But there was something he needed to do first. 

“Ivy?” he asked, stopping at the table. “Do you remember what we talked about a few days ago? How your mommy and I have to sign a licensed document in order to be married?” 

“Yes, I remember.” 

“And you remember what else we’ve talked about a few times, about me adopting you?” 

“That when you adopt me, you’ll be my really daddy,” she said with a smile. 

“That’s right,” he said, grinning at her. “Well, in order for me to adopt you, Mommy and I have to be married.” 

“And now you are married!” she said with a smile. 

“Right again,” he said, smiling back at her. “So, I wanted you to be here when Mommy and I add our signatures to the marriage license because then-”

“What’s a signature?” 

“It’s like this,” he said, reaching for the marriage license and squatting down to hand it to her, showing her where the other signatures were already written. “This is your auntie’s, my sister’s, and the officiant’s. Writing it this way is called a signature and putting it on a document is important and serious. It means that the people who signed it today agree that Mommy and I should be married.”  

She touched the names, tracing the inked signatures and she nodded. 

“It’s like a promise,” she said softly and he grinned. 

“That’s exactly what it is,” he agreed and she smiled. 

“You promise to be married and to love Mommy.” 

He looked up at Dana, her eyes wet and a hand covering her mouth, and he nodded. 

“I do promise that, Ivy. I promise it to Mommy and to you,” he said, looking back at Ivy. “I promise to always love your mommy and to love you. I love you both so very much.” 

She put the license back on the table and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smiled as he pulled her close to him and closed his eyes as he let out a deep breath. 

“I love you too, Fox. I promise to love you forever, with all of my heart.” 

“Oh, Ivy,” he said shakily, squeezing her even tighter. “I promise with all of my heart too.” He heard Dana choke back a sob and he looked up at her, his own eyes wet with tears. 

When Ivy pulled back, she smiled and he laughed softly. Kissing her forehead, he stood up and clapped his hands once. 

“Okay, let’s sign this license!” he said. 

Dana signed first, Ivy standing on a chair and watching as she did. Fox was next and when he was done, he looked at Ivy, who grinned at him. 

“Now, there are two more things to sign,” he said, taking an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “One is the official adoption document and the other is one that I made for us to all sign, even you Ivy.” 

“I don’t know how to do the signature like you and Mommy did.” 

“That’s okay. I can show you. It’s pretty simple.” 

He laid the one he had made onto the table and unfolded it. 

“Can you read this one to me?” he asked her. 

“I know some of the words,” she said. “But not all of them. Can you read it instead?” 

“I can,” he said, taking her hand and then Dana’s as he began to read the paragraph. “Today, we become a family. We did not start out on this journey together, but we met along the way and have decided to continue on it together. We promise to love each other, talk about our feelings, be kind, adventurous, silly, and loving. We will always be a family and by signing our names below, we make it official.” He looked at Ivy and smiled. “It’s a promise to always be a family and be together. Will you sign it, Miss Ivy?” 

“Yes, but you have to help me.” 

And he did, showing her how, and then guiding her hand until it read Ivy Scully on the paper. He added his own name and then Dana added hers along with the date. 

“Two Scullys and a Mulder,” he said, grinning at them. “That would be a good band name.” Dana laughed and Ivy smiled. 

“Okay, now it’s time to sign this one, the one we send away to the state and then it becomes official and true that we are a family. Once I sign this paper, I will be stating that I want to be your daddy.” 

“My really daddy,” she corrected him softly. 

“Your really daddy, yes,” he said, kissing her head. “I love you, Ivy.” 

“I love you too, Fox.” 

“Ready?” She nodded and reached for his hand. He grasped it as he picked up the pen and took a deep breath before letting it out. 

He located the places he needed to sign his name and add any initials. Adding the date, he signed once more. Setting the pen down, he smiled and looked at Ivy expecting to see a matching smile, but instead he saw silent tears running down her face. 

“Ivy…” he said, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arms around her. She cried as she clung to him and he said nothing, simply let her cry. 

When she calmed, she pulled back and looked at him. Touching his cheeks, he waited for her to speak, not wanting to push her. 

“You’re my daddy now,” she whispered. “I love you, Daddy.” 

“Oh, Ivy,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “I love you too.” 

He pulled her close again and reached for Dana, who was also crying. The three of them held each other, crying and then laughing at their tears. 

“We’re a family now,” Ivy said. “A really family.” 

“That we are, my love,” Dana said, smiling at Fox, who was unable to speak past the large lump that resided in his throat. “That we are.” 

_______________

Six months later

Fox laughed as he typed, shaking his head at the direction the story had taken. 

“And the secret was finally revealed, Ollie the Octopus was actually Queen Ophelia from the Aquamarine Kingdom,” he said softly as he typed. 

A mug slid into his line of vision and he turned to see Dana standing beside him with a smile. 

“Hey,” he said as she set the mug down onto his desk. “Thank you.” 

“You’ve been busy in here,” she said, leaning against the side of the desk and looking at the screen. “What? Ollie is actually the queen? Oh, I didn’t see that coming.” 

“Me either!” he said happily. “Isn’t it great? Ivy said it last night and my mouth dropped open. I think she’s had this planned from the beginning, but kept it very tightly under wraps.” 

“Sounds like she’s been spending time with a writer,” Dana chuckled. 

“Hmm,” he hummed with a smile, looking at her as he leaned back in his chair. “Where are you off to looking so beautiful?” 

“Beautiful?” she scoffed, looking down at her clothes. “I’m wearing jeans and a sweater.” 

“Mmhmm,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her onto his lap. “Like I said, beautiful.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, kissing him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you, first of all.” He chuckled as they kissed again. “Second, I’m going to lunch with mom and then we’re meeting up with Missy to do some birthday and Christmas shopping.” 

“That’s right.” He smiled at her, rubbing his thumb along the bit of revealed skin where her sweater lifted in the back. 

“You’re still good to get Ivy from school?” she asked, her fingernails scratching gently at his neck. 

“Mmm, yeah,” he said, closing his eyes and exhaling, pulling her closer. 

“Fox,” she said warningly and he opened his eyes. 

“What?”

“You know exactly what,” she said, kissing him quickly and rising from his lap with a smile. 

“To be continued then,” he said and she laughed softly. 

“Yeah. To be continued…” she said, kissing him again, a hand on his cheek. “And you wonder where Ivy gets her storytelling skills.” She looked at the computer and nodded. 

“Nah… she’s always had a great imagination. I’ve just added to it with my own ideas.” 

“This is true. You two have compiled quite a story. I love that you write it down every day so you can look at it each night, keeping the storyline straight.” 

“Not like that series we watched last week?” he teased and she put her hands up as she shook her head. 

“Don’t even get me started on all the plot holes in that series.” 

“But you still want to finish it?” he asked with a laugh.  

“We have two episodes left. Do you seriously expect me to not watch it? To not finish that hot mess so I can laugh at it later?” 

“No, I don’t,” he laughed again, knowing her well. 

“If you and Ivy had been in charge of that show, it would have been much better,” she said with a smile. “Okay. I gotta get going. You have fun adding to the story. I’ll pick up dinner and see you both later.” 

“Sounds good, hon. Have fun. Say hi to your mom and Missy for me.” 

“I will, love. Bye.” She kissed him one last time and started to walk out of the room. 

“See ya, beautiful,” he said, turning in his chair to watch her walk away. She looked over her shoulder with a wink and then she was gone. 

He smiled as he turned around again and looked at the computer screen. Clicking the home button, he went to the very beginning of the story that he and Ivy had started months ago and began to read it for at least the twentieth time. 

“Nope, no plot holes here,” he chuckled as he read about kingdoms of animals who worked together, sometimes plotted against one another, and then made peace when things went awry. 

“Huh,” he said, leaning in and reading more intently, thinking of the sketchbook somewhere in Ivy’s room that held the drawings that they had made of the characters. 

“Huh,” he said again as he got up and went up to her room to find it. 

Hazel, the three year old golden and white springer spaniel they had adopted from a shelter two months ago, was asleep on the foot of Ivy’s bed and he smiled at the sight of her. 

She was a sweet little dog who had caught their eye, her whole body wiggling with excitement when Ivy had approached her kennel. 

“Oh… there’s a cat in there too!” Ivy had exclaimed when she looked closer. “Why is there a cat too?”

“They were surrendered together,” a volunteer had informed them. “The woman who owned them had a stroke and was unable to care for them any longer. Her children didn’t want the responsibility of an animal, much less two, so they brought them here. We’ve tried to put them in separate areas, but Hazel stops eating and Willow, the cat there, cries and cries unless she’s with Hazel. So, we let them be together and everyone is happy.” 

“So they need to be adopted together?” Fox had asked, his heart aching as he had looked at the animals. 

Hazel had been licking Ivy’s fingers through the chain link fence, whining as she tried to get closer. Willow, the small black and white cat, had gotten up and stretched, coming over to also receive pets, pressing her head against the fence. 

“Yeah, they do,” the volunteer had said with a sigh. “I can’t imagine how they would get on if they were separated. Both of them are incredibly sweet, as you can see, but not everyone wants the responsibility of two animals.” 

“We’ll take them,” Dana had said, taking Fox’s hand and squeezing it. “We’ll take them today if we can.” 

“Let’s see what we can do,” the volunteer had said, smiling happily as she walked away and Ivy had laughed when Hazel had barked and wiggled excitedly. 

“They can’t be separated,” Fox had whispered, looking at the animals, but thinking of himself and Samantha. 

“And they won’t be,” Dana had said, squeezing his hand again. “We leave with both today, or we keep coming back until we do.” 

He had pulled her to him and whispered his thanks and love, kissing her head as he had released a deep breath. 

Two hours later, after spending time with Hazel and Willow, speaking to the supervisor, filling out paperwork and paying the adoption fees, they had left with both animals. 

Stopping at the pet store, Dana had stayed in the car with Willow while Fox and Ivy had taken Hazel into the shop to pick out whatever toys she wanted, and pick up supplies for both animals. 

Once home, they had all adjusted quite well. Hazel loved the yard, running around and around as she had chased after Ivy, whom she adored. Willow had been content with finding places to nap throughout the day, coming around for attention when she wanted it, her purr loud as she cuddled close.

When Ivy was in school, Hazel could often be found laying on her bed, watching out the window and awaiting her return. 

“Hazy Hazel,” he said softly, giving her a pet and rubbing her silky ears. “Just waiting for our girl?” Hazel licked his fingers, but did not stir further. “Yeah, I know. She’ll be home soon, I promise. Now I need to find that book.” A final pat and he turned around looking for the sketchbook. 

Finding it under a book about dragons and unicorns, he thumbed through it as he hurriedly walked back to his office. 

Reading the story again as he looked at the corresponding drawings, an idea began to form and he grinned. 

He would have to ask Ivy and Dana first, see what they had to say, but as the idea grew and took on a life of his own, he opened up his email and began a new message to his agent. 

Susan, 

Had an idea for a story, something different than what I usually write. Not sure just yet how it will go, but I had to tell someone. Not even sure if it will work, but really hoping it can. 

Fox

Pressing send, he leaned back and ran a hand across his mouth. Laughing, he shook his head and spun the chair around in a circle. 

Willow ran into the room, the bell on her purple collar jingling quietly. Fox smiled as she jumped onto the desk and blinked her bright green eyes, purring loudly. 

“Willowy Willow. Been sleeping the day away and now it’s time for some love?” he asked, scratching under her chin as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “Yeah… you know how to do things right. You-”

A ding sounded and he looked at his email, finding a response from Susan. 

“Well, that was fast,” he said as he stopped petting Willow and clicked on it. 

Fox,

I have come to expect nothing but the unexpected from you. When you have it figured out, send me some pages. 

Susan 

“Yes!” he said with an excited laugh. Glancing at the clock, he saw he had two and half hours before he would need to pick up Ivy. 

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Okay, Willow, let’s see what we can do.” 

Willow lay on the long desk, twitching her tail and then eventually falling asleep as he edited, copied and pasted, scanned images and added them into the documents, until it was a rough assembly of an illustrated book. He saved the document one last time and made sure his tablet was fully charged. 

Giving Willow a quick pet and a kiss, he called for Hazel who came hurrying down the stairs, wiggling happily. Grabbing her leash, his coat and backpack, they ran out the door. 

Hazel secured in the backseat, they started toward Ivy’s school. 

He hoped that once he showed Ivy how amazing the story looked, she would love the idea of creating a real book that others could also enjoy. 

Grinning, he turned the music up in the car and sang along as he drove to pick up his little girl with the big imagination. 

[miekasa]

okay but what about airport!levi? he gives quiet businessman vibes sitting in his slacks and turtleneck

IN HIS TURTLENECK 😭😭 He would also be quiet and to himself, but not in the emo way. You got me thinking about all of them now, so here are my other thoughts about the boys at the airport.

Levi

He thinks the idea of separating classes on an airplane is beyond stupid, but if the flight is particularly long, or particularly packed, he’s not above paying for business class for a little extra personal space for the two of you.

When he doesn’t do that, tho, he never picks your guys’ seats ahead of time, so sometimes you’ll be separated. Good thing he’s also not above lying at the check-in desk, “I’m in Zone 1, could my wife be seated next to me so that we can board together?”

They respond with an “of course,” and move your seats together, and Levi walks back with a content nod of appreciation. You are not married, and marriage sucks about as much as class separation on a 30 foot long plane, but it has its benefits.

Masks on, regardless. No debates. Pandemic or not, the mask stays on. Do not perceive him, keep the pressurized air sharing to a minimum.

Doesn’t wander much in the airport. There’s nothing in there that he hasn’t seen already, except for the marked up prices on touristy t-shirts.

And if you wander, he’ll usually just sit in the waiting area to watch your bags while you window shop and do your thing. If you’re gone for more than 30 mins, he might call, under the pretenses of, “Making sure you didn’t get lost. You know that Starbucks was near gate 41 to the left, not the right, right?” Like he’s a comedian or something 🙄

He does encourage you to get snacks before you board, tho. Airplane food is gross, and he would much rather pay for a $13 sandwich that you can snack on later, than for you to have to eat mush.

He’s got a little portable mug he takes with him for when he’s wants to buy a hot drink before getting on his flight. It’s cute.

Doesn’t fall asleep on the plane ever. No matter how long the flight is—at most, he’ll take a quick power nap somewhere in the middle if it’s over 9 hours, but other than that, he’s good to go.

Doesn’t mind if you fall asleep, and he always adjusts your neck pillow to make sure you don’t get cramps.

Jean

Travel champion. This man loves being in the airport even though he’s convinced it’s a time capsule, he fucking loves it.

King of “your airport fashion matters, babe.” Not necessarily wearing a whole three piece suit, but he does put in a little effort; it’s not just the first pair of sweats he has laying around.

Swears coffee tastes better in the airport. It does not. That does not stop him from buying it. He should learn to quit tho, especially for someone who hates airplane bathrooms as much as he does.

Charming with all the security personnel and desk assistants. You could be checking in for a flight at 4am, and Jean’s got people smiling and cheery for their shifts.

Bitches about the selection of movies on the flight, and learns to just download his own ahead of time. Gets really startled when he’s watching something and the flight attendants try to grab his attention for food or drinks—the very loud, classic, Jean Kirstein “HUH?”

On that note, he also gets startled by the loudspeaker announcements in the airport. He doesn’t know why he has to hear about American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun, when he is not on American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun.

Not opposed to paying extra for better airplane food or drinks on the plane if it’s the right time of day. He always finds something to toast to, plus he likes to treat you whenever and wherever he can.

Takes care of your overhead luggage and helps out the people around him if he sees they’re struggling. Gets shy when you call him a gentleman for it, and he rubs his neck, grumbling, “I was just helping the line move a little faster.”

Great timing, generous, will pick up your checked bags for you, and already rented a car a week in advance: 10/10 travel buddy.

Porco

He doesn’t like planes and there’s no solid reason why—nothing bad happened to him as a kid, and it’s not even that rare unfortunate incidents freak him out or anything—something flying just makes him a bit uneasy.

He won’t say it though, and he tries to keep it together when you’re checking in, but you can tell he’s anxious once you’re sitting and waiting for your flight to board.

He’ll ask to switch seats if you have the window seat, because somehow the feeling of being boxed in between the plane wall/window and another person makes it feel more like a car than a plane and he’s okay with that.

Going to the airport is one of the few times he hair won’t be styled, and falls in his face a bit. He usually throws on a beanie to cover it up, but you think he looks pretty cute either way.

Can’t usually fall asleep and he hates it because he just sits there thinking about the worst for the entire duration of the flight. But when you travel with him for the first time and coax him into taking a nap it’s so much better.

It’s about the only time he’ll let himself be publicly babied by you; but it makes everything so much easier that he doesn’t even mind.

So now, whenever you get on flights, he just puts his hood up, lays his head on your shoulder and waits for the magic to happen.

Bonus: you’re traveling with his friends, and Pieck and Marcel past to your seats, surprised to see Porco fast asleep on your shoulder. Pieck squeals, going on about how you must be a wizard to have gotten him to nap, to which Marcel just shakes his head, “Nah, he’s just really in love with her. Look at his face, that’s the calmest he’s been since he was five.”

Connie

Loves the airport. Not an ounce of organization in his soul though. By that I mean, yeah, he’s probably forgotten his passport at home, or forgotten that a full size bottle of body wash cannot go into his carry-on luggage.

Forgets to wear shoes that easy to take off and is fumbling over himself after the security check trying to lace them back up or put them back on.

Likes for you guys to have coordinating sweatsuits, and even though you don’t travel super often, Connie’s got at least 3 pairs of them lined up for you guys.

Sweet enough to drop plans or rearrange his schedule to travel with you if you were originally gonna be alone. He knows you can handle yourself, but he doesn’t want for you to travel alone if you don’t have to, especially if you’re going someplace far and/or for an extended period of time.

He always finds breakfast food to eat before he gets on his flight (if you two even have time to spare for food that is). It could be 9pm, but Connie’s asking for a breakfast wrap.

Hates waiting in the little pre-flight area. Claims it’s boring as hell and that’s why there’s no reason to get there 3 hours early 🙄🙄

He always spends at least 30 minutes browsing all the movie and TV show options available on-board, loudly exclaiming in excitement when they have something cool to watch—only to fucking fall asleep 10 minutes later. Right on top of you when he was oh-so-excited to watch Madagascar 2.

Always steals the aisle seat, even if it’s yours. It’s probably for the best though, because he has to get up to pee at least twice, no matter how short your flight is.

Makes some cheeky remark about you meeting him in the bathroom. He doesn’t mean it... unless he does. Unfortunately, you’ve never... successfully been able to do that out of fear of being caught by the flight attendants, but there have been a few quickies in the “family” (“It’s ethical, because technically we’re participating in the act of making a family, babe”) bathroom before you boarded. It’s his fault, not yours.

Armin

He really likes planes, and traveling in general. I think trains would be his favorite mode of transportation, but airplanes are good too.

I hate to say it but he claps when the plane lands. I will not elaborate or defend my stance on this.

Prefers the window seat because he likes to look out at the clouds as he’s in the sky.

He took his passport photo a little before he cut his hair, so the security personnel always hold it up and flicker between his ID photo and his current appearance a few times before stamping it. It makes him a little embarrassed because he can’t tell if they think he looks better or worse and sometimes he’s really fighting for his life convincing them that that’s him in the picture 😭

Listens to music rather than downloading a movie or watching a show, and always brings wire headphones to the airport so that it’s easier to share and listen with you.

If you fall asleep on him first, he’ll likely fall asleep on you shortly after. If he’s tired enough, he’ll fall asleep first, though he’s somewhat embarrassed and disappointed because he wanted to see the descent and skyline outside.

When he’s not asleep or window-watching, he’s somewhat fidgety out of excitement, rather than nervousness. He’s excited to be traveling and looks forward to wherever you’re going, even if it is just a weekend long work trip.

Hates traveling alone, though. It just feels particularly lonely to him to be going someplace foreign without company by his side. So, he’ll call you at every checkpoint and send you updates.

He only ever buys two things in duty free: shot glasses with the name of the city/country you’re traveling to, and whatever variety of button down short-sleeves are available to him.

Erwin

You knew this was coming, but this man is absolutely at the airport 18 hours before your flight takes off, and he’s driving like a manic getting there, like you don’t have all the time in the world.

Fascinated by anything and everything in duty free. Definitely spends more money than necessary on your return flight on the grounds that he was getting a good deal.

Exchanges money in the airport and keeps cash in his fanny pack. There’s no traveling without the fanny pack.

Plays crossword puzzles on his phone on the plane, and it’s just about one of the only games he has. That and Candy Crush—I get the feeling he’d be on level 500+ of that game and he always knocks out at least 10 levels on a flight.

Always a little surprised when he feels his your head on his shoulder, but he says nothing, and acts like he didn’t even notice, but there’s a telling little smile on his face.

Takes the most foul selfies of him and your sleeping self. In his defense, he had the best intentions; but that angle was flattering nobody. It’s too bad he’d already paid for the in-flight wifi and sent it to Hange because now you’ll never live them down.

You could probably get him to put on a (skincare) face mask during your flight. He forgets to take it off tho, and if you don’t tell him, he’d fully walk through customs with it on his face.

Accidentally gets drunk because he doesn’t understand that just because he can handle several glasses of whiskey in his favorite bar on a Friday night, does not mean it will translate on a plane.

[arty-chase]

Graveyard Siblings (4)

I am sorry for not posting in a while. School is a total bitch. Here is part 4 of a fic that is not a fic.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)

-------

Tall Marinette.(I admit I might be projecting a little here.)

One day, she took out something from someplace high and the whole family realized that ‘holy shit when did you get so tall?’

Bonus if Jason comes back from a long mission and had a wtf moment because she was wearing 6-inch-heels and met his eyes with them on.

“Pixie?!”

------

You know how Bruce has the identity of Matches Malone to infiltrate the Gotham Underground.

While Jason does the drug deals more street crime stuff, Maria uses an excuse of being the representative for Red Hood excuse to mingle with the rich people who does crime on the side (Penguin), she uses it to go to black market auctions and buy some of the lost miraculouses which got into the hands of black market dealers.

Jason knows about it and acts as her ‘bodyguard’ anytime he can or sends one of his henchmen to be one with a death threat if she gets a single scratch on her.

Bruce is unaware of this. Or is he?

------

Mari helps with running WE since she is a little less busy with the vigilante side of things.

It started with Tim panicking about deadlines and Mari offering to help, to Bruce and Tim bullying the board to have her as co-CEO.

She has to be that and head of Afterlife. So she is very busy. Doesn’t know about what comes next….

------

Somehow the class comes to Gotham for a trip. It has been 3 years since her death.

Mari has changed her appearance since the day she left Paris. She has highlights in her hair after a ‘sibling bonding day’ with Jason. Her hair is kept short for convenience and not in pigtails. Along with her tall height and more confident aura, she is almost unrecognizable.

She rides a motorcycle too.

The class waits in the lobby for the tour and in walks this badass woman with aviator sunglasses, leather jacket and designer clothes which was all MT brand, making a lot of people swoon.

She takes off her glasses and walks past the class. Checking stuff on her phone and sipping coffee in her other hand.

She seems familiar but they couldn’t figure out why. (All except Chloe, Alix and Felix who are snickering in the background.)

Lila sees her and comments on how she must be a criminal with the way she dresses. (Lila internally freaks out because were her eyes messing with her? Because she looked a little like Marinette. Also jealous of the new arrival for stealing all the attention.) Alya takes the bait and calls security to ‘arrest’ her.

They just laugh. The class doesn’t understand, speaking in confused French.

-------------

“I am Maria Todd-Wayne, also known as designer MT. CEO of Afterlife and co-CEO of the very company you are in. I am allowed in here. Don’t judge a book by its cover.” she said in perfect French.

“But Lila told us you can’t speak French.”

“Who?”

“Lila Rossi, your friend. She told us that you and MT were dating.”

“Me dating myself. Okay I love myself because self-love is a thing but that is a whole other level. MT are my initials. Anyone who has a brain could have figured that out or at the very least do a Google search. I am not sure where your friend got that notion.”

“Hey, Bean, come on. We have a long day ahead of us.” Tim reminded her.

“Goodbye but cease the rumours or you would be escorted off the premises.”

As they rode up the elevator, “Tim, why are they here?”

“They are the lucky winners of the Wayne Enterprise Young Prodigies Contest. Why, Maria?”

“Lucky, huh.” She muttered under her breath. She might as well tell him. They are the Bats and they will find out anyway. “They are from my old class, the one you know…”

“Oh. Want me to send them back? I can do that if they are making you uncomfortable.”

“Nah. Too much to deal with. And it is unfair to send them back over a petty grudge. Besides, I could have some fun.”

“Anything that Bruce and I should be worried about?”

“I swear no killing. Just because Jason came back from the dead, hell-bent on killing. Doesn’t mean I am too.”

“Cool, just don’t do any property damage or traumatize our employees.”

“I might need you to erase some footage later and tell Bruce about this.”

“Some brownies, my favourite coffee cake, the ‘special’ brew and you have yourself a deal.”

-----

So basically she just showed up around where the class was ‘by coincidence’.

Talk to a few people and take them out of earshot of the rest of the class.

End the conversation by saying a few things only they and her would know. Insides jokes and secrets. (I pick her old childhood friends like, Nino, Kim and maybe Sabrina)

Uses Trixx to turn into a walking dead version of her 15-year old self and disappears as they freak out about how she knew that secret/story.

Freaks them out further by appearing again in front of the whole class and pretending not to know their previous conversation.

Mari manages to get Lila alone.

I should also say that Lila thought that her curse was making her see MT as Marinette.

It terrifies Lila when she finds out that MT is actually Marinette, not dead but alive after all this time and apparently living the high life she wanted. This fact made the Italian swell up with jealousy.

“I hope you are not lying about me again, Lila Rossi. Like you always do.”

“What do you want with me? I swear I didn’t say anything else about you.”

“Aw, Lila. Don’t recognize me?”

Maria flickers and Ladybug is in her place and later, the Marinette that appeared in her bedroom and back to normal.

“You! How? Why are you here? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Why not? I mean you did take away nearly all my friends, my parents and made my life a living hell. If you think about it, I am just repaying you the same favor. How are the others? Treating you well?”

“What did you do to me, you bitch?”

“I just put a curse on you. The ghosts of your past will haunt you until you stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop Lying, Liar. They all feed and grow in power from your lies. I wonder what would happen in a few years if you kept this up.”

“You think you can get away with this. This is war and I have already beaten you once.”

“Oh Rossi. This isn’t a war. It’s a death sentence.” With that she disappears.

Lila tries to tell her class that MT is actually Marinette. She is met with crazy looks. Some of them look like they want to believe her but don't because they don’t want to look crazy too.

Oh. Adrien wasn’t on the trip because his mother didn’t want him to go to the crime capital of America although the crime rate has gone down a little due to Hellbat curing some of the city’s bad energy..

Right after Lila told the class about MT, Scarecrow came to steal some Wayne tech and the class got caught in the crossfire. So later, it was brushed off as Lila seeing things due to the fear toxins.

-----

Joker made the mistake of kidnapping her. Once was enough to never try that again.

(It involved the use of nearly all of the Miraculouses, old and new. He was thoroughly humiliated at the end of it and his picture by the time Hellbat was done with him was on the Batfam’s Christmas Card. Like I said she doesn’t kill but making them beg for death was okay.)

It coincided with Jason’s Birthday and the video of the incident was ‘the best birthday present ever.’ The uncensored version was watched at the next undead siblings bonding day. Damian included.

After hearing a few rumours about what happened, most criminals were glad for Hellbat’s rare appearances. (which happens once a month and during really busy time of the year)

There was a time where Penguin was carrying out one of their plans and when Hellbat showed up, all of their thugs surrendered instantly. (No Batman did not pout at the fact that this French girl was more imitating than him.)

Scarecrow used his newest batch of fear toxin on her during the first year after she died.

He was astounded to see her still standing and she later proceeded to beat the crap out of him while being under the toxin’s influences.

He has tried to stay out of her way since then.

She saw Scarecrow as Hawkmoth and said a lot of things in French which scared everyone because she said it with so much hate, anger and in a very menacing tone that everyone is like ‘I am not touching this.’

It took Red Hood and Nightwing to restrain her from further beating Scarecrow up.

He was one of the people who sympathised with the Joker after the Incident.

The next was Riddler being so arrogant in his plans and managed to get Hellbat and Spoiler into a death trap.

“You know I have a few regrets in life. And my final one is that I got captured and am now going to get killed by a walking fashion disaster.”

“Hey! I made this myself. I will have, you know.”

“You have a brilliant mind but no sense of fashion at all. When I get out of here, I am going to burn that thing with you in it, for your crimes against fashion.”

“What is wrong with it?”

Cue a lot of roasting of Riddler’s costume and Spoiler adding more fuel to the fire.

They manage to escape while Riddler is crying on the floor, having an existential crisis.

The thing was no one knows why Riddler was silent the entire week after encountering Hellbat and crying when anyone mentions it.

They now think Hellbat is the scariest one in the Batfamily, second to Batman and tied with Black Bat/Orphan.

The few who find out what really happened in the warehouse that night. Blackmail material on the Riddler.

Three ( four if you count Penguin) of Gotham’s biggest villains of the Rogues Gallery scared of Bats’ newest addition. Hellbat was not someone they wanted to mess with.

---------

Magic crisis stuff. Like a world ending event thing. Dr. Fate says they need the Miraculous jewels but the last mention of them had been in Paris a few years ago and had vanished since then.

Costantine looked at Batman. “You know who you have to call.”

Batman calls Hellbat. Who hasn’t been introduced yet to the JL.

“Ah. Bats. Not that I question your authority or anything but how can your newest ‘ward’ help us?”

She takes off her helmet and reveals her face and more importantly, her earrings.

Tikki comes out of her hiding place.

“I am the current Guardian of the Miracle Box and wielder of the Ladybug miraculous during Hawkmoth’s reign in Paris a few years ago. Any other Questions?”

“Oh great Guardian. Tikki. It is an honour to meet you.”-Wonder Woman, who else.

“You too, Princess Diana. Pass on my regards to your mother.”-Tikki

A huge face-off and the big evil is defeated.

WW asks abt HM and gives a horrified face at the end of her story. Nearly everyone who eavesdropped on the conversation was.

"Forgive me, Guardian for not aiding you in your hour of need.”

“It’s okay. I understand that there are other crises, world-ending ones that JL have to take care of. I am better now. Mostly.”

“I doubt it with those revenge schemes I found lying around. But she is getting there with her therapist.”-Batman

“I hate you, Dad.”

“Did you just call him Dad?”

“No….”

“Do you see me as a father figure?”

“I see you as a nuisance with how nosy you are with my personal business. So you are more of a bother figure.”

“I see you as part of the family too, Daughter.” (Got that reference anyone?)

“Jason was the one who adopted me.”

“Legally you are adopted by me.”

Maria with Pikachu surprised face because nobody told her that. “My life is a lie.”

-------

(Part 5)

[turtle-steverogers]

Thoughts about Steve and Sensory Things

-those little squeeze balls? With the tiny balls inside? He HATES them. The thought that he could squeeze it hard enough to break it (and he could) and spill god-knows-what all over his hands…

-he prefers small forks/spoons because metal against teeth is Not Good.

-he can’t stand woolen blankets/sweaters. They were alright when he was a kid—maybe it was all he had—but he hates the texture now. It’s itchy and the little fibers always end up someplace they shouldn’t.

(Side note: I may be thinking of acrylic, not wool. At this point I can’t remember and I can’t be bothered to look it up, but you know the yarn I mean. Nobody actually likes it, but Steve hates it.)

-he LOVES nails scratching in his hair. Before Bucky came back, Natasha would card her hands through his hair and lightly scratch his scalp. Sometimes when she can see it’s turning into a bad day, she’ll still do it.

-fidget spinners wreak havoc on his hearing. They practically shriek; the sound is so high and fast and shrill and he hates it.

-he likes the squishy animals with the plastic eyes that bug out; there’s no danger of him breaking them, and they look funny

-I really wanna hear your thoughts on pop sockets; how does he feel about them? Does he have one? Does he pop it in & out almost obsessively (like I do)? Or does he hate the sound? His hands are big enough he can hold his phone without any problem, so he doesn’t need them, but some people don’t need them and like them anyways.

-those squishy jelly phone cases? He hates them. For some reason they’re always tacky to the touch and he doesn’t like the feel of them.

-the little handheld game with the water and rings and poles? He loves that game. He’s not amazing at it at first, but he loves it. He’s never beat Natasha’s time (because you know those two would turn it into something competitive).

I think that’s all I’ve got for now… let me know what you think! ❤️

omg yes all of this. you know how much i love steve and his sensory shit and OF COURSE i have thoughts, let's see...

-first off: same about the smaller spoons and forks. they're just BETTER for some reason

-also I think not only does he like nails on his scalp, but on his back as well! and it usually helps calm him down in the way that deep pressure does

-on that note, i think he also loves when someone takes his forearm and does this thing where you squeeze and ease the skin of the arm back and forth... that sounds weird, but it's really soothing

-also yeah i have a lot of thoughts about steve as a kid, and how he had issues with all sorts of things, but had to mask it for society and also because he had no other options... i have TONS of thoughts, so maybe i'll make another post for that

-pop sockets!! i think he LOVES to pop them in and out obsessively (me too, stevie) and it's one of those situations where the noise doesn't bother him when he's doing it, but would bother him if, say, bucky were popping his pop socket near him

-also on that note, i think he's like that with a lot of things. he doesn't mind the sound of computer keys typing when he does it, but if bucky is typing on his computer in the room with him, he'd get really annoyed

-you're right, he doesn't like fidget spinners! he prefers these:

they move around in a fun, brain scratching way, but don't make noise!

and some more assorted sensory things:

-he hates things on his hands, like lotion or other sorts of salves, which is a bit of a problem in dry weather. bucky ends up rubbing it on his knuckles for him, so he can touch as little lotion as possible

-ankle socks only. he hates crew socks, and hates formal situations where he has to wear longer socks-- it also makes any sort of press event all the worse, because everything's flashing and loud and he can feel. his. socks. on. his. calves.

-peanut butter is no. bad texture

-when he's having really bad sensory overload, bucky will hold him from behind and squeeze real hard :')

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Since you started working in the castle, you’ve experienced many things.

You’ve seen other maids get slashed for nothing. You’ve seen the daughters lick a sickle covered in blood, break into a swarm of insects and then materialize someplace else. You’ve heard of the tormented wailing they cause in the dungeons.

They're things that you thought would haunt you, day and night, until you couldn’t function properly anymore. And yet. You found you could somehow still focus on your work despite it all.

How ironic is it that, in the end, it is a kiss that threatens to break your mind?

You used to think only of your survival before it, of studying routes for a potential escape. Now you can hardly focus on polishing a single goblet without getting distracted. You see her everywhere you turn, even when she’s not there. When you close your eyes at night, you can still feel her sigh against your lips.

It’s driving you crazy. She’s driving you to madness.

You don’t understand it. Any of it. It doesn’t make sense for your mind to be so stuck on someone you fear. Not unless a screw has gotten severely loose in your own head. A very possible scenario and one you don’t want to entertain.

The only semi logical explanation you’ve come up with –actually, the only one that lets you sleep at night– is that you’re subconsciously trying to humanize Cassandra. To see her as something you want rather than someone you despise, turn a negative into a positive, terror into desire. To make your life, what has become of it anyway, more bearable for you.

Yeah. You go with that.

At dinner, you keep your eyes down unless Lady Dimitrescu calls for more wine, but you can feel Cassandra’s piercing gaze on you almost like a physical touch. For two nights in a row you hear her graceful steps approach while you’re doing the dishes, but someone always calls for her before she reaches remotely near you.

And you’re glad for that.

Right?

On the third evening, while you’re tiredly walking back to your room after eight long hours of work, an arm shoots out of the shadows, grabs your wrist and pulls you off your path.

You nearly shout, but something soft, cold and unyielding covers your mouth. Your heart is giving painful kicks in your chest, your eyes are wide, frantically trying to adjust to the dark chamber. You start to calm only when you smell her perfume, but perhaps you shouldn’t.

“Relax, it’s me.” she says, like that's assuring.

You blink several times; your sight adjusts just enough to make out her hooded outline, thanks to the faint moonlight dispersing into the room from behind the nearest closed curtain.

Cassandra removes her hand from your lips once she’s sure you won’t scream.

“Hi.” she greets with what you guess is a smile.

It would perhaps be slightly endearing if she wasn’t your captor, hadn’t just startled you half to death and wasn’t dressed like the grim reaper in the pitch-black.

“H-hi.” you say back. It takes a ton of willpower not to curl in on yourself. You’re not even sure you succeed.

“Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.” she teases, poking your shoulder. You want to tell her it’s mostly her that scares the shit out of you, but you’re not that courageous nor that stupid. “I thought you a little braver than that.”

Your lips fall open. “Why?” you speak before you think and there’s probably something in your expression that makes her giggle.

Cassandra zooms to the window and pushes the curtain to the side, slightly. “Better now, my scaredy-cat?”

“Yes, thank you.” you reply, trying hard to bypass the possessiveness in her remark and what it does to your stomach.

“Good because you need to stop shaking. I don’t have much time.” Cassandra huffs. Before you can even think to say anything, her gloved fingers tug on your shirt, a tad rough, then shove you into an armchair.

You yelp, the air momentarily knocked out of your lungs, but then her gentle weight settles into your lap and you freeze. A big part of your brain shuts down on the spot. Cassandra leans close and the angle allows the moonlight to caresses her face underneath the shadows of her hood. Its pale grace makes her look softer than usual, the gold of her eyes glowing like twin embers….

“You and I have things to discuss away from prying ears.” A thumb and pointer trap your chin in place. You're all too aware of the fact a squeeze from her is what it takes for you to never be able to talk again.

“Do you know how I wanted to get you alone like this, all to myself?” she husks, lightly biting the shell of your ear. The sting gets your blood rushing faster in your system but you aren’t cut. Yet. “Did you think about me?”

Cassandra, slow and methodical, moves further in. For a moment you think she’s going to kiss you, yet she grazes her lips against your jawline instead –it makes you shiver– until they’re right by your ear. Your knuckles curl white on the cushioned arms. Already you feel the hot caress of arousal pool low in your stomach.

And you hate it.

You don’t want to admit it out loud that you did. To either of you. Your silence seems to irk her, though, because a sharp nip comes at your pulse. “Ah! …I did.” The shameful truth instantly spills from your lips.

“Yes?” She pulls back until you’re eye to eye, lip to lip.

Having her like this on top of you now, eyes gleaming, mouth glistening and oh-so-inviting, you wonder why you ever thought you were strong enough to resist temptation.

“...Yes.”

Cassandra kisses you.

The sensation is every bit as thrilling as you remember. Rousing, like licking a double-edged knife and coming out of it uncut. It is all danger, suspension over fire, without knowing if you’ll end up warmed or burned.

The first kiss was a tiny taste of the forbidden fruit. This one is you delving right into its ripe flesh, accepting you’re already hooked. Yes, you may die. But you weren’t really living since you were brought into the castle, either.

Cassandra is busy sucking on your lower lip when her back tenses under your fingers. Begrudgingly, she pulls herself back, neck turned a tad to the right, listening in for something you cannot hope to hear.

You finally remember what it feels to be alive underneath her slippery lips and breathy little moans, her cold fingers that grip at your throat and clothes like they have yet to decide which of the two they want to rip off. You're sure bruises will be left in the morning.

"Ugh. Daniela is being impatient again." she huffs, borderline irritated. "Gotta go."

You can't exactly stop her. You're not even sure you'd want to, even if you could. "Okay." is about all you can really say.

"Dream of me." she smirks, fingers trailing over your chin as she rises. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She waves, full of charm, a nightmare that somehow shifted into a pleasant dream. Then she's gone, leaving you alone in the dark. Your body laments the loss but your nerves are wiser, finally easing.

For once, however, the prospect of tomorrow doesn't fill you with only dread.

[memetaped]

star trek: deep space 9 taken from the tv show.

come on, let’s get you home. 

looks like you need a new bandage. 

it’s good to see you got your appetite back.

you’re lucky you only got singed.

i need to know that you’re here, safe. that way, a part of me will always be safe, too.

get your hands off of me, before i do something i’ll regret.

we’ll see each other again soon. that’s a promise.

whatever it is you’ve been through has taken its toll.

that boy’s life is in our hands, and i won’t let anybody give up on him.

there are too many ways to get into serious trouble here.

get some hot chocolate and tell me about it.

you can channel your feelings of aggression in other ways.

this is important. you and i. things change, but not this.

you’re a great boy, you know that?

you have to leave me here and go on by yourself.

but the thing about dreams is, if you talk about them, they kind of go away faster.

now that kid is here under my protection, and i swear, if you do anything to hurt them, i will make you regret it. is that clear?

everyone has to have someone to confide in, someone to hear their stories.

my heart is too big.

the boy’s in a lot of trouble.

everything’s gonna be all right, but you have to try and stay awake for me.

if you were hurt, i’d leave you behind.

hold on, i’m not finished with you.

my dear, you should not be here.

it’s just a nosebleed.

hey, who said anything about being scared?

everyone went out of their way to look after me.

it takes a lot of courage to admit you’re wrong.

you run now, i won’t be able to protect you.

give me that before you hurt yourself.

i don’t need counseling, or relaxation, or time to adjust. i just want to be left alone.

get out.

and i am gonna pray, because i don’t know what else to do.

care for a root beer?

i’ve always loved you. even when i hated you.

before you volunteer too quickly, understand what you’re getting into.

do not hug me.

mom?

i’m not afraid, papa.

you’ve been so kind to me.

i’ve said my piece. sorry for butting in.

you know, why don’t we just call it a day? you obviously have other things on your mind.

i feel sick when i eat. i have pains in my head, in my chest.

you keep moving around, you won’t need any nurse.

i’ve known nothing but violence since i was a child.

what the hell has gotten into your head?

so, now you’re hiding things from me?

i think i could handle some soup.

save your strength

a sharp knife is nothing without a sharp eye.

so, my young friend, what do you think we’re looking at?

confession is good for the soul.

i’m gonna stay here, take care of the wounded. that includes you.

that’s a very personal question.

is this some kind of joke?

look at me. i need to know you’re going to be all right.

hold on, i’m not finished with you.

continually distracted, depressed, and agitated.

you always tighten your brow just a tiny bit whenever you’re about to ask a question.

it’s so small even i can’t stand up in there. look, i’m developing a slouch.

the one good thing about going away is coming home.

you don’t want me hanging around here? fine. i’ll do my thinking someplace else.

i don’t know who’s going to hear this. i don’t even know if i’ll be alive by the time this log is recovered.

we have rights, including the right to be as stubborn or thickheaded as we want.

i know it’s too difficult to speak right now. just rest.

you might say it came to me in a vision.

what are you doing up? you’re supposed to be in bed.

i’ll miss you.

and you’ve got a lot of nerve complaining about being cold when you’re the one wearing the jacket.

the last thing i want is to become a burden to you.

rudeness will get you nowhere.

okay? i’ve forgotten “okay.”

keep your eyes and ears open, follow orders, and try not to get in the way.

it’s not a trick, it’s a choice.

that’s how i think of you. and maybe that’s why sometimes, it’s hard for me to relax around you.

it’s a treatment, not a cure. it’ll prevent hallucinations, take the edge off the depression, but that’s all it’ll do.

you know, that was a very ugly thing you just said.

right now, my head is swimming in bloodwine and i’m going to bed, and so should you.

i’m a little tired. didn’t get much sleep last night.

i appreciate your concern, but i’ll grieve in my own way, in my own time. 

we’ve come to care about what happens to these people.

i know that you’ve been working with the maquis, and right now, i don’t care.

are you some kind of anarchist?

when you take someone’s life, you lose a part of your own as well.

home! i want to go home!

besides, i could never live with myself if something happened to you.

now we either freeze to death or starve to death. take your pick.

isn’t there someone you can talk to? someone you trust?

that’s right. it’s okay. everything’s going to be fine.

take my word for it, you’ll survive.

i don’t know about you, but it’s past my bedtime.

do you want to come color with me?

look, i’m not asking you to like me or to be my friend. i’m asking you to join me, to fight at my side.

sealing the entranceway was a risky thing to do. you nearly brought the whole ceiling down on yourself.

i can’t feel my legs.

“a needle in a haystack” wouldn’t do this job justice.

you ought to get some rest.

don’t deny the violence inside of you. only when you accept it can you move beyond it.

make sure to put your plate in the replicator, sweetie.

you know, it’s attitudes like that that keep you people from getting invited to all the really good parties.

i feel like someone just walked over my grave.

we need to get you to the infirmary.

enough. you’re pushing yourself too hard.

if that’s how you remember it, you must’ve hit your head harder than i thought you did.

you should take a break. you’ve been working nonstop for days.

well, you tried being alone and it hasn’t done any good. so maybe it’s time to stop brooding and start talking.

are you part of my family?

my leg is broken.

i’ve been looking all over for you.

you’re suffering from a severe form of amnesia.

speak up for yourself while you’re here, okay?

things that would send cold chills down your spine and wake you in the middle of the night.

i’m the one who should be struggling to stay conscious. i’m the one who’s in excruciating pain.

not just a bad dream – bad memories.

are you two fighting again?

i don’t want your sympathy and i don’t need your advice!

you stay a while longer if you want to, but you have to promise me, when the time comes and i tell you to go, you’ll do it.

look, i know it’s too late for an apology. but for what it’s worth, i’m sorry.

why don’t you go to your quarters and lie down for a while?

everyone keeps looking at me. they’re afraid of me.

i’d never felt more alone in all my life.

i’m half-frozen. i haven’t eaten for days. my muscles won’t work anymore!

what you experienced was an artificial reality, an interactive program that created memories of things that never actually happened.

what could be more important than dom-jot?

i’m not sleeping. i’m checking my eyelids for holes.

i’ve found that when it comes to doing what’s best for you, you humanoids have the distressing habit of doing the exact opposite.

you’re going to give yourself indigestion.

speaking of pain, this is probably going to hurt.

i never thought i would say this to you, but you are listening to your heart, not your head.

would you please go on vacation and get out of our hair?

you should take things easy for a while. 

i wish there was something i could do. some way i could promise you that everything is going to be okay.

i’ve done some things i’m not proud of. 

i want to stay with you.

my weakness is i’m too generous, too forgiving.

oh, this is one stubborn infection. how long have you had it?

just to “speak up for myself”, i’m feeling a little betrayed here.

the best way to survive a knife fight is to never get in one.

you can annoy me, bait me, question my very existence. but in the end, we both know i’ve won.

i haven’t seen one of these since i was a kid.

it’s a good weapon – solid, simple. you can drag it through the mud and it’ll still fire.

i’m sorry, i hope i haven’t offended anyone.

little children do that.

you know, eventually, you’re going to have to stop talking and deal with this.

if you come with me, you can be a soldier again.

i still wish you’d given me a little more warning.

you can’t expect me to cure it overnight.

i used to dream about you coming to save me. that’s what kept me alive.

you’ve never had those feelings. you don’t know what it means to really care about another person.

let me put it another way. i don’t want to play cards, and even if i did, i wouldn’t want to play with you.

what’s next? do you want to apologize to me? express your sympathy?

i think you went to your quarters last night and you tossed and turned in bed, because you knew some of the things you said to me concerned me.

you’ve got all the emotions of a stone. no offense.

because i have the bad habit of telling the truth even when people don’t want to hear it.

i’m always suspicious of people who are eager to help a police officer.

for as long as i can remember, i have always been an outsider.

you were wounded. try not to move around.

terrorists don’t get to be heroes.

i’ve never needed a friend more than i do right now.

i cried for you. i missed you so much.

we need to stop the bleeding. we better get you up to the ship.

i’m not afraid of you.

for the moment, why don’t you relax? try not to be so tense, take it easy.

we don’t belong in this time. we’re from the future.

you federation types are all alike. you talk about tolerance and understanding, but you only practice it towards people who remind you of yourselves.

now, i think we should concentrate on getting you comfortable with this weapon.

out there, there are no saints, just people – angry, scared, determined people who are going to do whatever it takes to survive, whether it meets with the federation’s approval or not.

yeah, i just banged my head on something.

it’s life. you can miss it if you don’t open your eyes.

i should have known you’d develop feelings for these people you’ve been living with for the past few years.

there’s nothing you can do. um, i just need some time.

i’ll teach you. it’s a very simple game.

you don’t deserve it. nobody does.

and you want to know why you don’t scare me? because i’m already more scared than i’ve ever been in my life.

oh, please. i’m suffering enough without having to listen to your smug federation sympathy.

i know what it’s like to worry about a child.

last night, it sounded like a takaran wildebeest was tromping around up there.

do you remember my face? even a little?

between you and me, those people have every right to defend themselves.

there’s a time for levity, my young friend, and a time for genuine concern.

why? why do you care so much?

i have to save you from yourself.

just because a group of people belong to the federation, that does not mean that they are saints.

life is yours for the taking. all you have to do is reach out and grab it.

no one on this station is better than anyone else. we’re all equal.

that’s why i came to you, because i knew you’d protect me. you will protect me, won’t you?

just because we don’t understand a life-form, doesn’t mean we can destroy it.

oh, we’re all very good at conjuring up enough fear to justify whatever we want to do.

it’s an expression of affection that you find difficult to accept.

look, i just don’t want anything to happen to you.

as your friend, i have to tell you i’m worried about you.

have i ever told you how much i hate that smug, superior attitude of yours?

and as for bedside manner, i’ve known nicer voles.

you’re the terrorist. you tell me.

i repaid kindness with blood. i was no better than an animal.

you don’t know what it means to care about someone, do you?

i’ll try to keep my problems more quiet next time. 

are you sure you’re all right?

oh, i slept like an alvanian cave sloth.

just watch your back. you’re in danger.

the thing i don’t understand is why you pretended to be my friend.

i have to say goodbye to you.

[adarlingwrites]

Muse

Summary:

You're a frustrated and starving artist, disillusioned with the world you move in. Transported to a new one, you unexpectedly find a muse.

Notes:

Last Boss/Artist!Reader. Protagonist is AFAB. Oneshot, explicit smut.

I just wanted to write something short, sweet, and self-indulgent because damn, I need a break. And um, our favorite tiger boy needs more love.

Your mind was in a dark place when everything changed.

No galleries had contacted you to put up your works there. Your art blog’s viewership is abysmal, all your commissions are still unfinished, and your bank account has dried up. Such is the life of the struggling young artist; no money, no connections, and no talent, as some may think.

Every piece brought from you is something you’re grateful for. Every like, share and comment you receive is something you treasure. And yet, when you see another artist garner more attention just because what they do is trendy, or because they have connections, you can’t stop the resentment from filling up your heart.

These days, your works can’t just speak for themselves. Art is becoming a game, a competition for who gets the most paintings bought from a show, or the most number of likes within a platform.

You hate the galleries. Most of the time, they’re boys’ clubs reserved for old, mediocre men whose swelling egos are easier to rile up than their dicks. They sell their paintings at ludicrous prices, market value inflated by the connections they have to the gallery and the pretentious bullshit they write in the descriptions.

You hate social media. You hate the algorithm, you hate how these online venues to share your work is geared in another’s favor. You’ve tried to play the game for so long, posting at peak hours and sharing your work shamelessly to your friends, but nothing seems to be working. 

You’re envious.

Envy is such an ugly thing.

Galleries rouse it within the small, unseen artist, whose talents are hidden due to their lack of privilege, their lack of name. Social media capitalizes on it, thriving on competition, the number game warping a person’s psyche and perception of their worth.

Curling up in a ball in your bed, you’ve contemplated countless times if playing the game is still worth it. You just can’t keep up anymore. Each stroke of your brush and glide of your pen had your soul weaved in them, and no one seems to appreciate that because it’s not something anyone can put a price tag on.

Sighing, you drag your feet to the convenience store to buy yourself dinner with what little money you have left.

Then you saw it, the fireworks.

Life turned upside down for you within the span of hours.

Weeks later, you’re in a place called the Beach and sitting as far away as possible from the pool, sketching away on your notebook, odd ends of paper sticking out from it. You’ve survived another harrowing game, and you’re trying to wind down with a nice sketch session.

In this world, there’s no galleries, no social media. There’s no people to impress or market yourself to; just survival. There’s no money to be earned to keep living in this world, just visa days. Days of worrying if anything you’d create is worthy of anyone’s attention is replaced by the need to keep forging forward. But still, to keep yourself sane, you carried around pencils and paper, drawing and sketching whatever your heart desired.

In this world, your art is just for your own consumption, entertainment, and respite. Instead of being the thing that kept you up at night, it became something that saved you from the madness of this world.

The blaring music stopped, sound abruptly cut off as the speakers crashed.

Aguni’s militants have arrived, it seems. Per the advice of another Beach resident, you’ve done your best to steer clear of them. Yet, you still couldn’t stop yourself from getting involved with one of them, the one with the tattoos on his face and all over his body.

The first time you saw him, you found his appearance striking. The facial tattoos he had made him look tiger-like, and the katana he carries around with him just adds to the dangerous air he had about him. The fact that he almost always wears his hood up and the fact that he barely speaks add to the mystery surrounding him.

You’ve learned that nobody, not even their chief, knows his true name. They just call him Last Boss, because he looks like the last boss of a videogame.

It started innocently enough. You sketched him on your notebook, tall and wiry stature contrasting with the flow of the loose clothing he wears. Then the sketches multiplied the more you saw him in the games, and in the Beach. You’ve drawn him wielding his sword and finishing an assailant off. You’ve drawn him squatting on the balcony railing, surveying the Beach during his patrols.

Last Boss had filled your sketchbook pages. He became your muse.

Maybe it’s because he stood out to you, or it’s the sheer, unapologetic boldness his tattoos have. Either way, you were intrigued by him. Sometimes, you swore he’d stare at you back, but as soon as you look at him again, he’s looking someplace else. The little game you played thrilled you, thighs rubbing together when you see him. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have impure thoughts about him; you’ve wondered just how much of his skin is covered by tattoos.

And yet, neither of you had spoken a word to each other.

It was your little secret.

But not for long.

In the lobby, you were heading back to your room after dinner to rest when you ran into one of the militants. He barked at you to watch where you’re going, and stomped away. The collision sent your notebook flying, paper scattering across the floor. Scrambling to collect them all, you crawled to find every single piece, only to bump into someone’s shins.

It’s your muse, Last Boss, and he’s found a page of your sketchbook.

“I- um, that’s mine. Thank you picking it up, I’d like to have it-”

The words left you when you realize that he’s looking at your sketch of him.

His eyes flick to you.

“Back.”

You gulped, unsure of how he would react to it. Wordlessly, he gives you back the piece of paper, and you nod at him, proceeding to pick up the rest of the pages. Embarrassed, you hurry back to the room you’ve occupied, and shut the door. Not like it would make a difference; all the locks are superglued, but it still provided you some relief.

A warm bath would be nice. It’ll definitely help melt the stress of today away.

Stripping, you entered the bathroom, soaping and rinsing the grime away as the tub filled with water. The splashing echoed in the room, and the bass pounded outside as the party raged on, making you deaf to other sounds that might register in your ears under quieter conditions.

You get in the tub, warm water soothing your sore muscles from the Spade game you participated in earlier, and your eyelids flutter shut. Engulfed by warmth, you drift off to sleep.

After an unknown amount of time, you awaken abruptly to the sound of footsteps in your room.

Quiet as a ghost, you listened carefully. The footsteps stopped, and springs creaking as a weight sat down on your bed followed after. After that, you hear the gentle rustle of paper.

As quietly as possible, you get out of the tub, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around your torso. Pushing the door open as slow as possible, you peer out of the bathroom to see who’s the intruder, and what you saw made your heart jump to your throat.

Last Boss is sitting at the edge of your bed, peering at your sketchbook. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he thumbs through the pages of the hardbound notebook, enthralled by the strokes you made on the paper. There were self-portraits, landscapes, portraits of people, figure drawing, and of course, some of them had him as the subject. Engrossed by the art, he doesn’t notice you.

Taking off the bathroom slippers, you walk barefoot, stepping out of the bathroom as quietly as possible. You were making good progress, inching away from the door, but your foot landed on a piece of paper, and you slipped.

With a thud, you land on your ass on the floor. The tattooed militant stands up abruptly, drawing his sword.

“Oh God, please don’t hurt me,” you yelp, one hand holding the towel around your chest into place, the other shielding yourself from him.

He sees you, then he lowers the sword, and tucks it away. Last Boss walks over, and you screw your eyes shut, but there was no pain that followed. His wiry fingers grasped your forearm and helped you get up.

“Thank you,” you whispered, averting his gaze. He towered over you, almost a full foot taller. You move to retrieve your sketchbook on the bed, but he doesn’t let you go. Gaze finally meeting his, you found yourself disarmed by the intensity of his eyes.

“W-what do you need?” you ask him, the tremble in your voice apparent. You’re still gauging his reactions. So far, he hasn’t done anything to hurt you, but he’s a militant. They don’t exactly have a track record for being gentle.

“You’re good. But you drew my tattoos wrong,” he finally speaks.

Eyes wide, you didn’t know how to respond, blurting out something incoherent. Then, you try to compose yourself. “Sorry. I never had the chance to look at you up close.”

“Would you like to?”

Breath hitching in your throat, you nod. “Let me just get dressed,” you say to him, but he still doesn’t let you go, eyes boring into yours. Behind his tattoos are delicate, handsome features that knocked the air out of your lungs. What stood out the most are his lips, small and well-formed, looking too soft for a man as dangerous as him.

Then you understood what he wanted.

Because you want it too.

You let go of the towel, leaving yourself exposed. But he stands there, frozen, as if he didn’t expect things to go his way.

Leaning in, you kiss him, wet body pushing against him, soaking his clothes. It started slow, and sweet, but then you experimentally dart your tongue out, and he lets out a low growl, opening his mouth to receive you.

It was sloppy and inexperienced, but the kiss hit the spot. You feel the fire pooling in your belly, pleasure shooting up your spine.

Throwing caution to the wind, you put your arms around him and his movements become more desperate, kneading and squeezing at your naked flesh, pawing greedily at every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

You toss your sketchbook to the bedside table and you hop on, pulling Last Boss with you.

Straddling him, you grind your hips against his, and he’s already hard under his trousers, making you smile against his lips as you kiss him more. Your hands guided his to your ass, and you pushed your chest against his face. Last Boss eagerly buries his face between the soft mounds of your breasts, and proceeds to latch on a nipple, hard from the cool night air.

You let out a soft moan, hands cradling his neck as he assaulted you with his lips and mouth. He unlatches from the nipple, then proceeds to leave kisses all over your neck.

Then, he lies back, and he pulls you over him, his head between your thighs.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, a little bashful because of his view of your body.

He nods, and he proceeds to lick your folds, making you gasp in pleasure.“Aim for the nub,” you instruct him with a soft voice, and he does as he says, licking at your clit with abandon. You rode his face as he licked you, movements sloppy.

Soon, you were reaching your peak and you braced yourself against the headboard. Thighs quivering, you came with a cry, riding his face as you climaxed, tits bouncing as your body shook.

As you come down from your high, abruptly, Last Boss flips you over, and now you’re underneath him.

“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” you ask him, smirking.

“Next time. I want you now,” he half-whispers, half-growls. The hard member pressing against you tells you that he’s serious.

You nod at him, and he proceeds to unfasten his belt, hands shaking from nervousness, or excitement, you didn’t know. It’s probably both.

He went in with a single thrust and you can’t hold back the cry that bubbled in your throat. Fortunately for you, you were wet enough for it not to hurt, but it still caught you off guard. He was slender, but that length… it made your toes curl.

Erratic and inexperienced, you had to guide him with his thrusts, and soon, Last Boss finds a steady rhythm, those penetrating eyes looking deep into you as you brushed the tattoo on his cheek with your thumb. You hook one ankle over his shoulder, and moan as the new angle allowed him to penetrate you deeper. Last Boss bottoms out, and he groans, rutting deep inside you.

You raise another ankle and pull him closer, and he’s pressed flush against you, hips desperately pounding away. The tattooed militant pins your arms above you and kisses you, tongues sliding against each other as filthy noises of your fucking filled the room. You suck on his earlobe, and whispers filthy, filthy things in his ear.

“You know, I’d been thinking about this for a while now,” you whisper, and he tilts his head.

“I always imagined you breaking into my room and just fucking me raw until I’m a mess,” you continue, and it seemed to spur him on, thrusts becoming more frantic as the seconds passed. “I’d never thought I’d get lucky tonight. Fuck, Last Boss, use me as you wish, I’m all yours!”

Last Boss didn’t need to be told twice. He fucked you at a brutal pace, sharp hips colliding with the soft skin of your thighs, and with a broken cry, you cum once again, your walls milking his cock.

“Please, please, fill me with your cum!” you cry as he continued.

It drove him over the edge. Soon after, he follows, coming with a loud groan. His body collapses on you, and he gives you another kiss, still sloppy, but it almost felt tender, something you didn’t expect from the sword-wielding militant.

The tattooed man lies next to you, and you curl into him, tracing his tattoos with your fingers.

“Can I look at more of your sketchbook tomorrow morning?” he asks, voice low and drowsy.

You smile, looking up to him. “Sure.”

Just when you’re about to drift to sleep, he speaks again. “Takatora. My name is Takatora.”

Smiling, you kiss his cheek, and say your name in return. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Last Boss is your muse. His attention, both to your body and your creations, is all you need.

[imagineswriting47]

Running away

A/N: This is for the Anon who asked ‘ Hello! I saw that your requests were open, and I want to know if it’s possible to write a Dean x reader story where the reader has a dark/sad past ( maybe worse than the Winchesters?) that extends outside of America, like an international type of deal? Then maybe dean does something rude or finds something out and treats her badly, just something that causes her to run away? I literally have no plot to this! Thank you in advance! I want to apologize for this taking so long to get out.

Summary: When Dean finds out the truth about Y/N he doesn’t take it to well.

Parring: Dean/Reader

Warnings: None

Tag List: @akshi8278​

If you had told me ten years ago that monsters and demons were real, I would have laughed about it. I would be thinking that you were saying some terrible jokes. Now I know differently. Watching monsters kill my whole family changed everything. How I survived, I will never know. Running away from everything didn't solve anything, either. Flying to America, I hoped that I could leave monsters hunting behind and the British Men of Letters. I couldn't. Once a monster hunter, always a monster hunter. So when I heard about some strange killings the town over from where I had been staying, I had to check it out. Meeting the Winchesters was not what I expected. Nor were they anything like I had been lead to believe. When everything was said and done with the hunt, Sam asked if I would like to come along. I said, 'no.' I gave them my number to call if they needed anything anyway.

After meeting Sam and Dean, I started hunting again. I was meeting other hunters along the way as well. But somehow, the Winchesters and I kept crossing paths. Every time they would ask me to come along with them, I told them 'no.' But the more that I hunted with them, the more I found myself wanting to go with them. For the first time since I lost my family, I felt safe with someone. But how would they handle the truth about me? My past is not pretty. The things that I did for the British Men of Letters are things that I can't forgive myself for. They will hate me if they know the truth about me. But Sam, with those puppy dog eyes, how could I say no. Even when I got a room in the Bunker, I still kept my distance. I was doing my best to keep my past from them. They could never know how much I care about both of them. I fear that they could use it against me, or someone could use the brothers against me.  

The past, no matter how hard you run from it, will always find you. 

A simple hunt that turned out to be demons changed everything. Demons lie; everyone knows this. But these demons were not lying about me. And when the beast was dead, Dean asked if the creature was telling the truth. Did I sell my soul? My silence was answer enough for him. Then the yelling started. I was everything that he said. I was no better than the monsters that we hunted. While my soul was still mine, it was dirty and tainted by the darkness that is Hell. It doesn't matter to him that my soul is still mine and that I still have my soul. That I managed to get the demon who I sold my soul to break their end of the deal was a miracle. By breaking their end of the agreement, they were making the deal void. Dean didn't care about that, and the whole way back to the Bunker, Dean was silent after Sam got Dean to stop yelling and get in the car. A yelling Dean I knew how to deal with but a quiet Dean that was a bad thing. When the car came to a stop, I all but jumped from the car and went to my room.  Closing the door behind me, I sat on my bed.  Only a moment later, the door was thrown open by Dean.

"Were you going to tell us?" Dean spoke the quiet furry easy to hear in his voice. I didn't know what more he wanted me to say. What could I say? "You lied to me—your just another monster. I trusted you to have Sam, and I's back. I trusted you, and I should never have done that..." I don't hear anything after that; his words keep getting harsher and harsher. Seeing the chance when Dean stepped further into my room, I ran. Once past him, I let the tears fall down my face. When I felt like I ran into a wall only to have two arms wrap around me.

"Y/N?"

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just so sorry." I whisper as I pull away from him. Running to the garage, I jump into my old car. Once out and onto the road, I drive. There was no destination in my mind; I just kept driving; my tears had long since dried, not having the energy go further. I pull into a little service road with the car off. The silence is defining. I did not realize how used to the boys always talking I had gotten.

Climbing into the back of my car, I lay down. Pillowing my jacket under my head, I let the blackness of sleep pull me under. Though my sleep was restless, I could not get more than a couple of minutes of rest. The sun shining in the car's window decided for me that it was time to start moving again. Sitting up, I rub my face trying to wake myself up the best that I can. Climbing back into my car's front seat, I turn the car over and get back out onto the road. I keep heading west following the sun, still with no destination in mind. I only stop when I get hungry or need to use the bathroom. Putting as much distance that I can between the Winchesters and myself. 

Just before nightfall, I find a small little town that has a cheap motel in it. Thanking my stars tonight, I pull into the motel parking lot. I was pulling out the little bag of clothing that I keep in the trunk of my car as a 'just in case kind of thing. The motel was reasonable but also dirty as most cheap motels come. Also, it doesn't look like any redecorating has been done since the eighties. After all the salt lines are laid out, I make my way to the shower. The water is thankfully hot, and I let it relax the muscles of my back. I was washing my body before stepping out of the shower. Towel drying my hair, I quickly re-dress and head out of my motel room. I am running into a small town looking for someplace to get something to eat. The town's dinner was little and '50s themed like much of all the diners I had obtained food over the years. Ordering my meal to go, I quickly make my way back to my hotel room. I eat fast, not even tasting what I was eating, knowing that I need to see what I had left in my car. At this point, I considered what had been left at the Bunker lost, and I needed to know what I needed to replace. The bags I felt had some weapons left in them but not enough to keep hunting for long. But I had left my phone behind in my room. 

Over the next couple of days, I manage to get some money for doing some hustling at the bars. With that money, I got myself some new clothing and a burner phone. By the end of the week, I move to another town. I kept moving like that week after week, hustling money as I went. Three months after leaving the Bunker, sitting in a small bar, I hear the door open. Sitting where I was, I could see the door and those that walked in, but they could not see me. Standing in the doorway are the Winchesters. I wait for them to get to the bar with their backs to me before standing up and making my way out of the bar.

Once back at my motel room, I pack up my things, cleaning up, making it as if I was never there. By the time I am finished, I can hear the Impala's unmistakable sound pulling into the lot. I wait to hear a door close than wait longer to be sure before stepping out of my room. I am quickly making my way over to the car. I set my things in the passenger seat before walking over to the office. Once checked out and everything paid, I make my way back to my car. At the same time, my attention was elsewhere. I failed to notice Sam stepping out of his room. Sam doesn't see who I am until I am standing next to my car with my head down. "Y/N?" I hear Sam say to me as he moves to be standing on the other side of my car.

"Hey, Sammy," I say as I look up to him. Only the Sam that I see is not the same Sam that I left at the Bunker. This Sam looks so tired like he hasn't slept in weeks; the dark rings under his eyes are so dark. He even looks like he has lost weight. His clothing seems to hang on him. "I can't believe it, Y/N. Dean and I have been looking for you." When he mentions Dean, I can't help but cringe back, Remembering Dean saying that he should kill me. "Y/N?" When I hear my name, I look up to Sam. I can see the concern in his eyes. 

 "I can't, Sammy. I'm sorry, I-I have to go." I whisper to him as I pull my car door open. Making a decision quickly, I pull out a piece of paper and write my new number on it for him. 'Don't tell Dean.' I finish off the note before handing it to him. Once in my car, I don't wait to see if Sam reads the message before pulling out of the parking lot. I'm not on the road long before I hear my phone start to ring. Wanting to put more space between us, I don't answer.

I drive for the rest of the day and all through the night. I don't stop until I cross over into Ohio. I stop at the first motel that I come across. Once in my room, I plug in my phone before falling into bed. I am woken up hours later to my phone going off.

Grabbing it off the table, I find that Sam is calling me. "Are you alone?" Are the first words out of my mouth before Sam could even say anything. "Yes." Sam and I talk for hours after that. Mostly it was just me telling Sam that I was okay. That no, I hadn't been hunting. Then he asked what happened the night that I left the Bunker as Dean wouldn't talk about it. So I start from the beginning by telling him everything. The secrets that I had kept from him, why I sold my soul, how I got out of it. What Dean said to me and how it scared me. 

Sam fills me in on everything that had happened since I left. I can't believe what Sam tells me how worried Dean got when he realized that I hadn't returned to the Bunker the next day. After a week, Dean was freaking out, calling everyone that we all knew to see if they had seen me or heard from me. At first, I thought it was because he was trying to follow through with what he had said in my room. Sam said that all he kept saying was that he needs to apologize. 

Sam and I keep talking for weeks after that first phone call. He keeps his promise and doesn't tell Dean about our conversations. But with each chat I have with Sam, I make my way closer to the Bunker. Sam doesn't know this, but I plan on seeing him again in the next couple of weeks. Sending a text to Sam when I get into town, I tell him where I am staying. He doesn't get back to me right away, but when he does, it doesn't take him long to show up at my hotel room. Once my door is open, I am pulled open into a bone-crushing hug. "It's good to see you too, Sam."

"Same to you, Y/N." When Sam pulls away from me, I can get a good look at Sam. He looks so much better than the last time than I saw him. The dark circles are gone, and he seems like he has been eating better. "You look better, Sammy. How's Dean?" What Sam has been telling me about Dean is making me worry.

"It's not good, Y/N. I don't know the last time he slept. I can't get him to stop looking; it's killing me not to tell him that you are okay." Sam sits on the bed in the room with his head in his hands.

"Do you-Do you think that it would help if I went to the bunker?" I whisper to him as I take a seat next to him. This was my plan when I came here, but to hear Sam talking is making me nervous to see him again. It's been six months since I have been back. "Would you?" I can see the hope in his eyes as he lifts his head and looks at me. Shrugging my shoulders, I stand up and hold my hand out to him, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go." I want to get out of the door before I change my mind. It doesn't take long before we are pulling up to the Bunker and making our way inside. Sam stays back, letting me walk in first. The Bunker is quiet, not much noise to be heard, nothing like it was before when I was living here.

"Sam, where did you go?" I hear a yell for the library turning, I look at Sam, and he smiles at me in pushing me to the library. Dean has his back to me when I first see him again. "It's not Sam," I say to him. I can see him freeze before turning slowly to look at me. "Hi, Dean," I say when I can see his face. His face is pale; he looks so tired and underfed. I don't get the chance to get a good look at him before I have an arm full of Dean. For Dean being so much taller than me, he seems so small in my arms. But what makes me the most surprised is when I can feel tears on my neck. I start to walk backward and out of the room, slowly making our way to his room. Dean doesn't seem to realize that we are even moving. He is shaking in my arms but not making any noise either. Once in his room and laying down on his bed, all he keeps mumbling is 'sorry.' I keep whispering soothing words in his ears, hoping to get him to calm down. Slowly he stops shaking, the tears stop falling, and his breathing gets deeper, letting me know that he has fallen asleep. Not long after he is sleeping, so am I. 

I don't know how long we are asleep, but I am woken up to the feeling of a hand on my cheek. Opening my eyes, I find Dean's green ones looking back at me. Looking Dean in the face, he looks better already; the dark marks under his eyes less pronounced his cheeks have color back in them. "You okay?" I ask him as I place my hand over his that is on my face.

"I should be asking you that Y/N," Dean whispers to me, his eyes closing as he says this. "I'm fine, Dean, I promise." I smile at him even though I know that he can't see it. Not knowing what to do, I move his hand off my face; turning my back to him, I sit up. "But I couldn't stay, Dean, not after everything. I-I'm not staying for long. I just thought that I would come and see you and Sammy." I can feel the bed moving behind me as Dean stands from the bed. He moves around the bed and stands in front of me.  Dean is turning on the bedside light before kneeling in front of me. 

"Y/N, I can never tell you how sorry that I am for what I said. I will never admit this outside of this room, but I was afraid. I sold my soul. I know what could have happened to you, and I don't want that for you. You are so beautiful and kind and everything that is good." Dean looks like he wanted to say more, but he doesn't. He takes a deep breath before standing up and turning his back to me. His shoulders fall.

"Dean, I'm sorry. But I couldn't tell you; I didn't know-how. I want to stay here. But I don't think that I can, not after everything. I know that I am better off on my own..." I don't get to finish my sentence before he turns back to face me, grabs my face in both of his hands, and kisses me. It could be barely be called a kiss more of a dry press of his lips against mine. "Please..." I can feel him whisper against my lips. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I lean up and kiss him. The kiss is rough, all teeth and tongue saying everything that both of us just couldn't put into words. I feel his hands on my ass before he is lifting me up. I warp my legs around his waist as he turns and presses me against the wall.

We kiss for what feels like hours about cant be more than a couple of minutes. "Don't leave me." I hear Dean whisper as he pulls away from this kiss. His head once again resting on my shoulder. I grip tighter to the short hair at the back of his neck before whispering, "There is nowhere that I would rather be."

With my feet back on the floor and the both of us cling to each other, I know that we have a lot that we need to talk about, and my past is one of them, but maybe this really is where I am meant to be.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please leave a heart and a re-blog. My requests are still open but it might take some time for me to get them out.