#i got it at the end at the cemetery where we all three hugged really tight. but i still would've liked to sit beside them.

[werepuppy-steve]

had my stepdad's funeral today (not my current stepdad) and hoooooo boy the abandonment issues are in full swing :)

[thenightlymirror]

So, for anyone paying attention to narrative, a lot has happened in the last week.

I was going to start on Tuesday, but then remembered that quite a lot happened on Monday too. So, Friday, I suppose.

At some point Friday, after days of the superintendent telling me that he would get to my dozens of foundation requests and work orders sometime next week, I learned in the last hour that he was actually going on vacation. Which enraged me. I'm an idiot. They spent the week after Memorial Day recovering. The next week saw the GM off sick almost the entire week, while I sort of ran things.

I started Monday by explaining to the GM that nothing has been for our State of Emergency Shithole Cemetery in two weeks, even when I tried to plan ahead for the next delivery which was coming very soon. Welp.

A few minutes later, I heard her addressing the grounds crew so, stood up from my desk and crashed the meeting. These are our priorities until I receive the granite manifest. This marker needs to be done today. These, when there's time. Two weeks ago I cared about these. Fuck it. I'll be by to look for paperwork in the garage.

I found the garage breakroom table covered in unfinished stacks of my work orders, old food, and a thin, even layer of mouse shit. Buck, how do you feel about being made to eat your meals on rat shit?

"I think it's a crime."

Correct.

After collecting my papers and taking lots of photos, I talked to Buck about his various grievances. He asked me if I was a socialist. "At least," I said.

I decided to go back to the GM and confront her about the rat shit. She explained that she bleached that table a month ago, but the boys leave the door open, and even when the exterminator visits twice a month, there's nothing they can do. Also. Buck was caught feeding the mice water.

Hm.

Well, I mean, wouldn't you? Honestly. Who among us if forced to live in rat shit would not feed the miserable poisoned rats? Since you're essentially in the same boat, all about to be fired, thrown out on your asses. Murdered.

Tuesday, grounds continued get more work done. The manifest arrived. I made the No. #2 a packet with the four foundations that were absolutely necessary by next week. Andrew invited me out to trivia later than night, and I spent the rest of the day feeling tired and headachy and convinced that if I didn't go, I'd probably be alone for the rest of my short life.

So I went. It was pretty good. Most of the table seemed a little snooty, and also worried about something I wasn't a party to. Nervous. They're pretty serious about it all. We got second place in the end. I was really good at naming movies just by single frames. I also got the two other Latin American countries that use the American Dollar correct, but they weren't very confident about it. Neither was I, really.

Afterward, me and Andrew went to a bar and a girl there talked to us, got our numbers. I assumed Andrew went home with her. Maybe he did. He was discreet about it, if he did. She liked us, and we hit our stride as two (likely) bisexuals performing as horny straight men for our own amusement. It was a lot of fun.

The next day Buck and I exchanged numbers and made plans to hang out at his place, smoke weed, listen to Norwegian black metal, and watch old Incredible Hulk episodes. Nice.

There was this whole thing about going to Wisconsin to pick up some vases for a customer. The GM wanted to go. Sandra also happened to be going on the same day. I made a million calls and now it was just me picking it all up for everybody. No Spotted Cow. No Cheese Castle. Solamente Cox.

I woke up an hour early to lay in bed and feel utterly convinced I wanted to die. Something was up, and my brain turned in on itself instinctively. Always embarrassment, humiliation. Clarity. Brutal clarity. I got up. Rushed a day's work in three hours. Drove to my old cemetery where Sandra ran to give me a hug and pointed to the breakroom where Carlene was eating lunch. Something was definitely weird with Carls. Seemed miffed. I avoided immediately attacking Harper and talked logistics with Carlene by repeating every sentence she said until she noticed.

I entered the office to pick up the keys, and asked Harper how she was. I was pretty clear. She just kept working, didn't even look up. I just shrugged. Sandra gave me the eyes like, Holy Shit Dude, and I turned to go, but Carlene intervened like "HARPER!" and she finally looked up, so I asked her gently, Harper, what's up. How's it going, and she looked embarrassed and talked for a few minutes. Totally normal.

You could not convince me for the next four hours that is what happened. I only remembered my guts falling out on the floor in front of everyone. Hahaha. Such a sensitive baby.

Everyone at my place went on and on about how they might give me a tour, and I'd get to meet the owner and nobody there gave a shit. They just passed me through like corn. Not that they were mean in the slightest. I don't know what I expected.

I got back to the old cemetery. The new counselor-at-large was there and I said hello and she looked right fucking through me. Haha I was not quiet. She just sucks. That's fine.

I got in the office and Sandra was stuck in an email. I was like, What the hell are you doing? Can't say. Ok lol. "What the hell is wrong with everyone today?"

"I was about to say that myself," Harper says. "People standing in doorways all day." Fucking body snatchers. Then Margie caught me. Harper made the "You did this to yourself by being nice to her, and I am getting the hell out of here" face. Have a nice weekend!

I pull out of my parking space in my own car again, and rip off the front bumper. The counselors come out to laugh and Sandra clandestinely takes photographs with her phone. We all laugh for a while while no one gets to leave the parking lot, and I go straight home to Winnetka with the vases in my car.

What else?

My trainer asked if I went to the Cheese Castle. No. I was depressed. She shoots into my dms to ask me why I'm depressed. I'm fine. Just woke up this way. My brain's just broke.

I woke up this morning sadder than ever. As I got in the car, my old trainer called me and said that she got a new job. The office manager position she always wanted. Fuck all the rest. I said thank god you did something, or else I was going to have to. Congrats. She said not to tell anyone, and to get out of this place as soon as I can.

I went to work and got on the golf cart and rode around for a while, took it up to the secret lake. Hiked around. Scared some birds. Took the cart off-roading down a steep hill convinced I was going to flip myself.

Later, rushing through work, I got another call. Sandra. She's leaving. Got a job with the city. Which means. Her position will be open. I jumped out of my seat and started punching the air. Holy shit. Suddenly the day flowed right over. Not only would this whole nightmare end, I'd get the position I wanted in the first place. The position I wanted like... years from now. Gene's place. I wouldn't have to be miserable. I still doubt it will actually happen. But it might. I might just be happy. Over in the admin office between Harper and Carl. Easy.

[emeren]

birthday boy - eren jaeger

shameless birthday fluff for the boy who deserves a happy ending and a happy birthday 

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 2.1k 

content warnings: absolutely none, 100% fluff!

notes: i’m emerging from my request writing hole to post this lil one shot for my love’s birthday. i did not read over this so there may be errors or whatnot, but enjoy!

SUMMARY: reader shows eren what it means to have a good birthday.

eren had never been one for birthdays. 

he’d tried, he’d really tried to love them just as much as everyone else did. he could vividly remember all of the kids in his class bringing in donuts and ice cream and handing out little handmade invitations - invitations he never received. 

after two or three failed birthday parties thrown by carla - birthday parties that only armin and mikasa showed up to - eren had stopped trying. he insisted that he hated march 30th and that it was the worst day of the year. his mom always made a big deal out of it anyway, insisting on taking the three kids out for ice cream and a movie in celebration. 

eren would’ve never admitted it, as his pride was too strong, but he liked the small celebration his mom would throw. just him and his two best friends, building blanket forts and being allowed to watch one PG-13 movie for the special occasion. 

he remembered his tenth birthday being the last one that he even bothered acknowledging. that was the last birthday with his mom, the last birthday that didn’t go forgotten on grisha’s busy schedule. that was the last birthday that he went for ice cream and got to watch a PG-13 movie. 

as he got older, birthdays became less of a big deal to his peers. they weren’t large scale, festive events, but rather small group hangouts that involved getting drunk in a field. some sad, petty part of eren enjoyed watching everyone’s special day become exactly like his had always been: just another of 365. 

he didn’t remember telling you what day he was born. in fact, he was sure he hadn’t told you. it’d been a conversation topic he’d narrowly avoided in the past; lucky enough to have met you around april in order to skip over the awkward ‘oh, it’s my birthday’ chat. 

so he was confused. 

he was confused when he pulled his apartment door open, only to be met with your figure holding a carefully wrapped gift. hell, even eren didn’t realize that it was his birthday. he’d stood there in the doorway, gawking at you with a half-asleep look in his eyes. 

“what’s that for?” he’d asked incredulously, pointing at the gift. you laughed, the sound music to his ears as you slipped into his apartment. 

“happy birthday!” you squealed, setting it down and wrapping your arms around his slim figure. eren frowned for a moment, mind counting through the days of the calendar until they landed on march 30th. oh, i guess it is my birthday.

he hugged you back, eyes still warily focused on the gift. “who told you?” he’d questioned. 

you smiled up at him, placing a light kiss on his cheek. “i have my ways.” 

eren didn’t know what emotion it was that burned in his chest at your soft grin. he desperately wished for it to be annoyance, but it wasn’t, so he resorted to feigning it instead. 

“i’d rather we didn’t make a big deal about it,” he grumbled, slipping from your arms and walking towards his kitchen. he didn’t see the way you rolled your eyes or the way you mocked his voice, only turning around to see you approaching him with a bag he hadn’t previously noticed. 

“that’s alright, i was just going to make you some breakfast, if that’s okay?” eren normally would’ve protested any other special treatment on his birthday, but it wasn’t very unusual for you to cook him a meal. eren had a big stomach, and absolutely no skills in the kitchen. he resorted to shrugging, not wanting to show you the way your suggestion made his heart skip. 

and so he watched you. he watched you flit around the kitchen and make him his favorite breakfast (waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, extra side of bacon). your movements were so mesmerizing he’d nearly forgotten about this rotten day, the day that his younger self had declared the worst of the 365. 

“here, shithead. enjoy your meal,” you hummed playfully, sliding the plateful of food in his direction. eren flipped you off, too hungry to pick a fight as he dove into his meal. 

he tried to ignore the feeling of you staring as he scarfed down his waffle. he’d hoped you wouldn’t say anything else about his birthday. “do you wanna open your gift after we’re done eating?” you’d asked. 

eren paused his feast to look up at you, your eyes focused on your own plate as you waited for a response. he was apprehensive, but decided to take the bait nonetheless. “uh, sure.” 

eren could remember the best gift he’d ever gotten. it had been a handmade terrarium from armin and mikasa for his eighth birthday. they’d gone out in the woods behind their houses and rifled through the bushes and weeds to put together a jar filled with all sorts of creatures and plants. eren’s favorite had been the spider - whom he’d lovingly named peter - as he would catch flies and other small insects to feed to him. he’d been so excited about their cheaply made gift that nothing had ever come close to topping it (not that he ever got much in the ways of gifts, anyway).

as you sat him down on the couch, carefully placing an oblong box in his lap, he was unsure. he loved you, no doubt, but he didn’t know what on earth you could’ve gotten him. 

his previous confusion only grew when he opened the box to find a bundle of wildflowers. they were a mix of baby hues, soft and simple. he looked to you, brow raised in question. 

“flowers?” he’d asked, mind pondering all the possibilities. you laughed lightly in response, standing from your seat next to him. 

“c’mon,” you gestured for him, eyes scanning his bare chest. “go put a shirt on and come with me.” 

eren sighed, standing himself as he set the flowers on the couch. “listen. i love you, i really do. but i would just rather we don’t make a big deal out of today, alright?” 

he watched you roll your eyes, watched you fold your arms over your chest.

“i’m not making a big deal out of today,” you’d responded, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “just go put a shirt on. it’ll just be the two of us.” 

eren talked a lot of game regarding his self-proclaimed willpower, but he would never understand how easily he caved to you. thirty minutes later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, eyes mindlessly gazing out the window with the bundle of flowers in his lap. 

you were playing his favorite music, humming along as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel. he’d just stared at you, admiring your beauty as you turned up a desolate road that he’d been too focused on you to recognize.

it wasn’t until the car stopped; surrounded by newly blooming flowers and freshly greening trees, did he piece together where he was.

“mom?” he’d breathed, eyes glancing out the window. you just smiled in response, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car. eren looked down at the bundle of flowers in his lap, wildflowers, his mom’s favorite. 

in that moment he felt like crying. sure, he’d cried on his birthday before, but this was different. it was a cry of appreciation, one that burned in his chest as you impatiently pulled his door open. he was quick to blink the tears away, putting up a front as he got out himself. 

his mom’s cemetery was atop a hill, located away from the city amongst the trees and wildlife. he remembered picking it for her because of how freeing it felt - it was more of a place for remembrance that mourning. he knew that was what his mom would’ve wanted. 

eren showed his appreciation by wrapping your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as the two of you approached his mom’s headstone. 

“what made you think of this?” he’d asked quietly, setting the bundle of flowers right beneath her name carved within the granite stone. he remained kneeled in front of it; long fingers coming up to trace the words. he’d been surprised by your answer. 

“i know you hate your birthday,” you’d started, watching the moment in front of you. “and i know your mom was the only person that ever tried to make you enjoy it. i hope it wasn’t insensitive of me to bring you here? i just thought maybe you’d want to spend the day here with her.” 

and there it was again: that burning within his chest. he pulled his fingers back from the cold stone, relieved you couldn’t see the mix of emotions on his face. it was on the contrary. he’d never had someone think of him this way, think of what he truly wanted to do. he smiled as he stood to face you. 

“thank you.” he’d said sincerely, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the crown of your head.

the two of you sat for hours, hands wrapped together as eren told stories about his mom and talked to her gravestone as if she were really there, too. he talked about his tenth birthday; how his mom had rented some barely scary movie, but how armin couldn’t sleep for weeks following their watch. he talked about the time mikasa had beaten up one of the popular kids for only excluding eren from his birthday party. before he knew it, he was wrapped up in stories upon stories. 

all too fast, the sun began to dip past the horizon. the two of you stood from the grass, pants slightly damp with mud but neither of you cared. eren leaned down, pressing his lips to the stone as a parting goodbye - something he’d started doing as a kid. 

as you drove away, eren felt content with how the day had gone. he watched the sunset from the window, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. he enjoyed the sweet moment, but couldn’t help the perverted thought that crossed his mind. he’d never had birthday sex before, and oh boy was he excited to try. 

the car stopped outside of his apartment, the two of you walking up to the door hand in hand. he grabbed his keys, about to unlock the handle when you stopped him. 

he loved when you looked at him like that. when your eyes were big and doe-like, filled with a mix of adoration and excitement. your hands carefully wrapped around his jaw, pulling his lips down to meet yours in a tender, warm kiss. 

he could feel his heart clench at the action, pulling away with a smile on his face. “what was that for?” 

“i just love you, ‘s’all.” you hummed in response, motioning for him to open the door. eren hated that you could make him blush, looking away with a playful roll of his eyes. 

he wasn’t expecting what waited for him behind the door. 

with the flick of the light switch, all of his friends popped up from around the apartment, yelling ‘surprise!’. his eyes widened in shock, a large banner that read off ‘happy birthday eren!’, but the words were all scrunched together at the end, the banner not large enough. 

“connie made that!” armin explained hurriedly, as if noticing the way eren’s eyes traced over the decoration. eren couldn’t help the burning in his chest as he looked at all of his closest friends. 

sasha, connie, jean, mikasa, armin, you. you, who had clearly planned this all. eren wasn’t ever very sappy, at least not since he was in high school. but the burning in his chest had become too much to bear, overwhelmed by all of the decorations and confetti, and thoughtfulness. 

he looked at you, tears in his eyes. he’d never had a big party before. he’d always wanted one, and here it was. “thank you.” 

“goddammit, this is what you get for taking him to the cemetery before his surprise party!” jean yelled, pointing at his friend. “i don’t think i’ve seen you cry since you were an annoying ass teenager!” 

“oh, shut the fuck up,” eren replied lightheartedly, embracing each of his friends. he wasn’t even embarrassed to cry. it’d been so long since he’d felt so loved. 

and so you all sat, eating ice cream and watching a horror movie. eren was in the middle, you curled up on his one side and armin on the other. as all of his friends enjoyed his birthday, squealing at the unnecessary gore, he couldn’t help but smile. 

maybe march 30th wasn’t the worst day, afterall.

<3 <3 <3 

[justyouraverageanonbloghere]

Survival of the Fittest 3

Driven by my other desire that wasn't revenge, I found myself leaving my apartment and heading to one of two places that Sven could be at this time. I checked his family's lumber business first by driving by but I didn't see him. With that option out of the way I made a beeline to the cemetery. I didn't see him there either save for a figure hunched over my grave in clothes caked in dirt.

Wait a minute.

I parked the car and got out to start heading over, making sure to be as quiet as possible. To my horror I realized the dirty figure was Sven. He even radiated a pungent odor that made me cringe automatically, but my love for him is greater than any neglect-driven smell. I just watched him silently weeping, hugging my gravestone with the very faint sentence of "please come back" repeating over and over.

"Sven. I'm here." I spoke out, using my voice.

Sven stopped and raised his head slowly. "That couldn't be real. I must be hallucinating."

"No. I'm here. Turn around."

Sven did exactly that before jumping at the sight of Devin's hulking figure looking down on him.

"Jesus fuck, dude. Could you leave your homophobic bullshit at the door for one day-"

"Sven, it's me. I'm in Devin's body now."

His eyes went wide.

"How did you do that? Please stop joking-"

"When I asked you out in college I fumbled on my words and ended up spilling coffee on myself when I faceplanted the exit door. Your favorite color is cerulean. You drool sometimes in your sleep and try to wake up before me to wipe off any traces so you can keep the cool guy appearance."

Before I can continue, Sven clung onto me, sobbing into my shirt with arms wrapping tight around me. "Benji! It really is you!"

I immediately hugged him back, letting him cry until he calmed down enough. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

We drove back to my place in silence. No doubt he was trying to process the fact my brother's homophobic friend was possessed by me. It's understandable, really. I'd be the same to if the situation was flipped. Once we got there and he showered, I made some coffee for him and waited for him at the table.

"I can't find my clothes."

"Im washing them for you. Why were you covered in dirt?"

Sven sat down and took a sip of his coffee before letting out a hollow laugh. "It really is you. You even make my coffee how I like."

"Just because I stole the body of a pig doesn't mean I have to be one myself." I chuckled.

"I haven't been able to cope with your death so I ended up staying at your grave for the last three days without going home or leaving your side." Sven admitted.

My heart wanted to break at that until he changed the subject.

"But that doesn't matter anymore. You're back now. Tell me everything!"

And so I did to the last detail. Needless to say tears welled in his eyes again until I got up and pulled him in my arms to kiss him. I wrapped my arms securely around Sven as he happily reciprocated, our tongues exploring each other's as I felt every groove and mound of his toned frame.

"You really do make a better Devin."

I chuckled and guided him to the couch where he proceeded to sit down on my lap and grind on me. I peeled off my shirt so he can explore my body, and just his touch alone was making me hard within seconds. Sven gasped at the feeling and pressed down more against it.

"Fuck you're massive-"

I smirked.

"More where that came from, baby~" I winked, using Devin's voice. That made his cock twitch. "I see ya like this voice, huh? Just keep calling me Benji because Devin's long gone." I grin, bucking my hips into him.

I was pushing Sven over the edge. He ended up undoing my belt and shorts just to lower them enough to free the massive nine inch fuckstick I now owned. With no hesitation he began to work his mouth on it until he was taking me all the way into his throat. I threw my head back at how mindblowimg this felt! After all I only managed to get off once in this body.

My hands combed through his hair while I guided his head up and down as my hips would buck up and fall in a sensual rhythm. I know Sven was enjoying this as well but I wanted him to feel good too.

"Baby." I groan out. "Stop fuckin teasing me and ride me. I wanna look at you while we both feel good."

Sven eagerly removed himself with a pop before hovering over my throbbing meat and sinking down inch by inch. Goddamn I wanted to cum then and there but I used my essence to stop my body from doing that.

Once he had me buried to the hilt, I pulled him in for a greedy kiss as he started working himself on me slowly. We moaned in each other's mouths as he made it a habit to clench hard on me everytime he went up. But that didn't last long. Within minutes he was bouncing in a frenzy while I bucked up to him everytime he slammed down. I wanted this. At first I added the factor of me doing it to get back at Devin since now he's fucking a guy. But now I lost my sense of revenge for Devin. He's gone now after all. Even now I was forgetting what body I was in because all I cared about was the fact that Sven was back.

Even with pleasured bliss taking hold of us, it wasn't long until he slammed down hard on me and shot his load over my torso. I couldn't hold back either myself and I let out a roar before shooting deep into Sven.

We cuddled there afterwards before going to shower off and then cuddled in my bed watching some random shit on Netflix. We just wanted background noise as we kissed and held each other.

The next morning I awoke with a groan to Sven kissing my lips. I'd grin and pull him on top of me to deepen it before he pulled away.

"I gotta go to work. I'll see you soon, yeah?" Sven asked.

"Without a doubt, babe. Just give me a call." I grin as we peck each other's lips before he leaves.

As I lay there with a blissful smile on my face, it would turn to something sadistic since I have one last part of my plan to do.

Revenge against Anthony.

[highqueenofelfhame]

no tag list bc im posting this from my phone and am too lazy so pls reblog so this gets traction! thank you for reading and follow @highqueenofelfhamewrites for better and more frequent updates and turn on post notifications! i might do away with tag lists soon idk. the whitethorn kids are headcanons from @musicmaam and i so i hope you love the babies we love them very much and becca is a mastermind

masterlist

Outside, it was a still and quiet morning. Despite the sun having risen hours ago, the sky remained a murky gray. Dew clung to the grass and a light fog remained settled over the landscape. It looked cold and like the kind of day that would usually have Aelin curled up in the study, a roaring fire warming the room while she sat in one of the oversized leather chairs and reread a favorite book. Rowan knew that once outside, the cool air would be a sharp bite at his skin. It’s how Terrasen always was in early November.

Instead of reading, though, Aelin was staring at her side of the closet. Her fingers nervously tapped above her elbow while she surveyed dresses and pantsuits, jackets and turtlenecks. More than once she had murmured that she never knew what to wear, and more than once he had told her that it really didn’t matter and she would look beautiful all the same.

A level below, Rowan heard the front door open and close, followed by their oldest son, Arden shouting up the stairs that they were home. They referred to him and his boyfriend, Jamie, and Aelin and Rowan’s oldest, Evalin. The three had driven from the University of Orynth on the other side of the city to the family’s house on the outskirts of town.

Genevieve, Declan, and Endymion, the younger half of the Whitethorn kids, were all getting ready. Genny had been up with the sun to make breakfast for everyone, her hands sticky with cream cheese frosting and cinnamon by the time she had finished. Declan and Endy were down the hall, fighting for counter space in their shared bathroom while Genevieve finished up at the vanity Rowan had built her last year in her bedroom.

More noise followed the voices downstairs turned to a quiet murmur as Rowan approached his wife and rested his hand on her lower back. Aelin leaned back on her heels and into his touch, turning her head slightly. Rowan pressed a kiss to her temple and she shivered, reaching out for the dress that he knew she’d end up picking. It was his favorite.

“Perfect choice, fireheart,” he murmured, rubbing his hand across her middle back as she sighed and pulled it off the hanger that she dropped to the floor. Rowan chuckled to himself, nudging it toward her pile of shoes as he followed her back out into their bedroom.

Rowan was already showered and dressed. He wore a simple black suit with Aelin’s favorite dark green tie— one that she claimed brought out his eyes, though Rowan hadn’t noticed a single difference as he tied it around his neck.

“You are worrying about nothing,” he murmured into her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Aelin shuddered a sigh, licking her lips as she turned to look at Rowan over her shoulder. Their eyes met for a single heartbeat before moving to the door.

“I hope Arden and Evie remembered to pick everything up this morning.”

“I’ll go check,” he promised, squeezing her shoulder before walking away. Rowan paused in the doorway, turning to look at his anxious wife. She stood in front of the window, dress draped over one arm while she twisted her wedding band around her finger. It made his heart squeeze in the most painful way, but he left her and jogged down the stairs to where the rest of his family mingled in the kitchen.

Entirely typical of his children, none of them looked up when he entered. Gen was dressed in leggings and an oversized sweater, manning the stove to make everyone else eggs. Endy and Declan were arguing over who got the cinnamon roll in the center of the pan: it was the most gooey and beheld more icing than the others. Declan won out in the end, but only because Genevieve pointed a spatula at Endymion to remind him of a petty crime he’d committed against her the day before.

“You don’t deserve that cinnamon roll. You know what you did.” Endy snorted, but relented, allowing Declan to eagerly swoop in for the golden treat. A large dollop of icing slipped off the side, barely making it onto his plate as he did. Endymion sighed wistfully, likely dreaming of how good that would have been in his stomach instead of his brothers. Rowan laughed to himself, ruffling Endy’s hair as he walked by. His youngest shrugged him off with a shiver, lips pulling down into a frown while he looked over at his father, then to his older sister as she walked into the room.

“Has mom been down yet?”

“She’s still upstairs,” Rowan said, while the other kids mumbled that she’d yet to come down. Arden and Jamie slid into the empty barstools at the counter, accepting plates of bacon and eggs from Genevieve. “Can someone go check on her?”

“I’ll go,” Evie decided, heading up toward Rowan and Aelin’s bedroom, stairs creaking with every step.

Genevieve was watching Evalin up until she disappeared at the top of the landing, her lips twisting to the side as she shifted to turn the stove off. The kitchen settled into a comfortable silence, the scraping of forks the only disruption. Genny poked at the cinnamon roll she’d chosen for herself before pushing it away, toward Endy.

“I can’t eat,” she said quietly, tapping her phone screen, the time blinking up at her before it went dark again. It seemed that Endy could eat, however, because he pulled her plate over and dove into her cinnamon roll immediately after finishing his. It was almost enough to make her smile but she seemed to be fighting it off. Rowan moved to wrap his arm around his daughter, but she shrugged out of his embrace and disappeared up the stairs. If he had to guess, she was joining Aelin and Evalin.

“I’m worried about her,” Rowan and Arden said at the same time, the former cracking a half smile.

“Me too,” Endymion agreed, fingernail tapping against the counter while he looked over his shoulder. Rowan opened his mouth to speak, but the soft closing of a door followed by the squeak of the top stair silenced him. A moment later, his three girls were filing into the kitchen. Aelin hugged each of her babies, pressing kisses to their cheeks that they didn’t shy away from.

“We ready?” Arden asked, picking up the bag he’d brought in with him. Aelin nodded and rubbed her hand over Genny’s upper back.

Genevieve had always been the most anxious of their kids in the worst way. Over the last year, her panic attacks had only gotten worse and nobody really knew how to help her. A few months ago, she had finally caved and agreed to start taking medicine for it when she needed to. Judging by the way she stood, worrying her lip and twining the ends of her silver hair into tiny braids, Rowan wondered if she was already debating taking one of those pills to keep the monsters of the day at bay.

The ride was quiet. The only conversation consisted of Aelin and Rowan asking Evalin, Jamie, and Arden about their college courses. The youngest three Whitethorns stayed quiet and listened while looking out the windows and tapping on their phones. No music filled the empty silences— the last five minutes was nothing but garbled road noise and turn signals, the occasional sniffle of a nose, or a small sigh.

When the car was put in park, nobody moved immediately. Aelin stared through the windshield, fingers drumming on the gear shift. Rowan lay his on top of hers, but she didn’t look over at him. Instead, she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and, after several heartbeats, nodded. Only then did the kids file out of the back seats, Genevieve going to take her mother’s left hand while Arden took her right. Rowan walked beside Endymion and attempted to steady his son when he stumbled over a rock that was hidden in the grass.

They walked through the cemetery, moving by headstone after headstone. Some of them were large and ornate weeping angels, others were crosses jutting out of the ground. A fair few were simple concrete rectangles in the ground with a vase for flowers. The one they came to stop at was something in between.

It was about two feet high in the middle of the graveyard, simple text embedded into the shiny quartzite stone. A large hawk had been carved into its surface, wings spread wide mid-flight, beak parted as though it were releasing a fierce battle-cry. There was no vase for flowers anywhere near it. Instead, piles of stones were left all around it. They were in all shapes, sizes, and colors. One had a painted hawk on the surface that he knew Genevieve’s boyfriend had left behind at the funeral last year.

Arden placed the bag he carried on the ground and they let Aelin be the first to pick her stone. She picked a large smooth one, a paler gray than the headstone itself that fit perfectly in her palm. She folded her legs beneath her body as she knelt before it, trembling fingers tracing over the name.

ROWAN M. WHITETHORN

JULY 16, 1970 - NOVEMBER 11, 2020

HUSBAND. FATHER. HERO.

TO WHATEVER END.

A breeze shifted through the air, moving Aelin’s hair across her face and she could have sworn it was warm. She could have sworn she smelled the familiar pine and snow scent that she would always and forever associate with her husband. Aelin could have sworn it felt like a lover’s caress, like fingers brushing away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

Aelin wasn’t sure how long she sat there, surrounded by their children. Each of them swapped their favorite stories about their late father, about what they missed most. All of them cried enough tears that Terrasen could hit a rare drought but the patch of grass they held each other in would still be green as ever.

When they finally stood, the air had dropped a few more degrees because the sun had never come out to keep them warm. It made that fleeting warm breeze even more bizarre, the one that smelled like him, considering the one that rustled the leaves on the nearby tree was cold enough to bite.

Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw him. She swore she saw a head of silver hair sock his head in her direction, but she blinked and he was gone, her oldest son stepping up in the place she thought she saw him, felt him, smelled him. Silver hair faded into a golden blonde that matched her own, but the eyes that peered down at her were as bright green as his father’s. Aelin felt her face crumple as she leaned into him, resting her temple against his shoulder. She inhaled hard, desperate for that pine scent to feel her lungs, desperate to erase the last year of her life without him. Desperate to pretend that he was still alive and it was his shoulder that she put her weight on.

But it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be.

Still, as she looped her arm through his and started to walk back toward the car with their kids, she spared a last glance over her shoulder, projecting their vows into the void of the world: to whatever end.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but Aelin was almost positive she heard his voice whisper it back as another strange, warm breeze wrapped around her and left her completely breathless.

[issaxcharlie]

Ghost Of You 2/2

Pairing: Ghost! Luke Patterson x Fem Reader

Summary: Luke, Reggie and Alex have to assimilate their loss. For Luke of his girlfriend, and for the others of their best friend after suddenly learning that she didn’t have the future they imagined, and instead died 23 years ago.

Thank you to @cookiebuba for being the head of the entire idea and trusting me with it, and to Emy for almost holding my hand to force me to write🤣💜

PART 1 HERE

“It can’t be.”

“Luke, I-”

"No, Julie. You are not telling me that the woman of my life, the purest person who has ever stepped on this world, not only lost her partner and her best friends, but was only able to live her life for two more years and then ended in a horrible accident. It's as if life wanted to torture her before taking her too.”

“Love of ?... Zeppelin shirt you wore when you ran away. Of course.”

“I- It can’t be true, please tell me it’s not true, Julie.”

“Luke... she loved you so much.”

He falls on the floor. The impact is strong, as if his legs have stopped working.

"I know." He whispers slowly, his gaze empty as multiple tears fall from his eyes.

The rest of the gang threw themselves to the ground around him and hugged him with all their might, trying to unite his broken pieces without any success. Alex and Reggie each crying silently over the loss of their sweet friend.

“What day did she pass away? Alex whispers.

"Let me search, one moment." Julie gets up quickly and checks on her laptop to find a little note about the singer's death.

"The rising singer Y/N Y/L who had just released the biggest hit of her career passed away this afternoon in a terrible car accident after leaving the cemetery where her late boyfriend, Luke Patterson, was buried. Y/L was there in commemoration of the 2 years of the loss of the aspiring musician, who died from a sudden tragic intoxication along with the rest of his band. Something to rescue from this tragedy is that at least she's already reunited with her eternal love. May both rest in peace.”

“This can’t be. My Y/N can’t be gone. Not her, not like that.” Luke is still in denial, unable to believe that his little girl suffered such a terrible ending.

“Maybe she’s not. There's still a chance that she's also a ghost.”

“Yeah, Julie’s right. We need to look out for her, we can't write her off without trying to find her first.” Reggie's eyes sparkle with hope, rushing to cover Alex's mouth in case he says anything other than motivating.

Luke takes his flannel and disappears immediately. Both Reggie and Alex stare sadly at Julie who simply whispers a "go, he needs you." They nod and teleport to their friend.

As expected, Luke is in front of the window of an old music store. He met his girlfriend here so many years ago, the day his parents agreed to buy him his first guitar.

The store had a small section where customers could try out some instruments and she was playing the guitar they had there and singing for the small audience. It seemed like it was something she did often because both the workers and certain customers seemed familiar with the girl.

Luke was captivated by her from the first moment. The energy and passion that radiated from her in every move was unreal. He had never seen anyone happier, much less singing with a borrowed guitar from a small downtown store.

The store is completely abandoned, so without saying anything he comes in and walks towards the small stage.

The ghosts of two 12-year-old kids singing together into the microphone invades his memory. If they only knew.

"Do you remember what was the first thing she said to you?" Reggie and Alex sit next to him on the floor, looking straight at the very small stage. They both try to imagine what their friends must have looked like singing here together the first time. Luke totally invading little Y/N's presentation trying to captivate her with his 0% music experience and 100% of enthusiasm.

Luke laughs through tears. "You have the voice of a country singer."

Alex starts crying when he imagines her. He met her just a few weeks later so he knows exactly how she must have looked and sound.

Reggie smiles while shedding a tear, remembering all those afternoons Y/N convinced Luke to join them in their country sessions. He knows that's why Luke hasn't wanted to know anything about country or his songs since they got back. They remind him of his sweet girl.

“I was so offended. I still didn't know anything about music but I had already decided that I would be a rocker. If I hadn't already been so dazzled by her I would have left without looking back.”

“And what did you answer to defend your honor?”

"You think so?" The three of them start laughing while still crying. A heartbreaking mix of pain comes from their chests.

“C’mon guys, next stop.”

The three of them were teletransporting around the city during the day without any success. Luke's desperation increasing for every place the songwriter wasn't.

At night the three decide to go back to the studio. Luke is heartbroken, bloated after crying all day, eyes red and sore, and whatever it was that was driving him to continue, off.

His friends couldn't do much for him either because each was living the loss in their own way, concentrating on living their own pain until they could process it.

Julie wraps them in blankets on the couch and tries to fill them with love, making sure to hug Luke tightly, who seems about to fall apart.

“Does anyone want to talk about her? Maybe it could make you feel better.”

“She was my entire soul, the words and melody in each of my songs. I just, I love her more than anything in this world. I would give anything for her. My guitar, my voice, my songs, whatever it took for us to be together. I know it doesn't seem like it at this point, but we belong together.”

“We know you do, man.”

“I didn't tell you but I dream about her almost every night since we got back. It is always the same dream. She is in bed, leaving my side intact. She's wearing one of my shirts and hugging my favorite one while sobbing. She falls asleep listening to the ballad I wrote for her soaked in tears and no matter how hard I try to wake her up, I can't get her to see or hear me. I can’t get her. After a few minutes she gets up still asleep and begins to dance as we did so many times, but alone. Then she stops and starts crying again inconsolably. And that's when I wake up."

"I'm so sorry, Luke. She deserved so much more." Reggie walks over to hug him, his head resting on his arm while he sobs.

“We couldn't even say goodbye to her.” Alex cries, his eyes completely red.

“We already know that she visited your graves, perhaps we could do the same, dedicate a few words to her.” Julie offers in an attempt to help them find some peace.

Luke looks devastated, but he nods his head as tears continue to fall from his face, the ring that his girlfriend gave him going in and out of his finger. Alex hugs Julie while she strokes his hair in an effort to calm him down and Reggie runs up to get a notebook and pencil to start planning what to say to his best friend tomorrow.

The three of them hang around all night, crying, writing, hugging, remembering the spark of Sunset Curve. In the morning before going to visit her, they realize is exactly the 25th anniversary of that tragic night that changed the lives of the four forever. Luke nearly punches a hole in the wall upon hearing the sad coincidence.

Her grave is right next to Luke's, who has never been here before and can't help but feel a bit anxious.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start.” Reggie tells the guitarist as he takes a step forward, a small smile on his lips.

"Hello, princess. Long time, huh? I'm Reggie, by the way. In case you don't recognize me from the slight change in my hair. I am trying a little more gel, I want something more elegant and classic. What do you think? Yes, I also thought you would like it.” Julie and Alex smile at hearing him talk to her as natural as possible.

“I tried very hard to think of what to say, because if there is anyone who deserves my best words, it is you. And three things came to mind that I want to share with you.

First, the color yellow.

Yellow like the guitar you were saving for two years to buy. You did everything. You were a babysitter, you walked dogs, you worked in the school library, you sang with your old acoustic guitar in every cafe, basically everything that will let you win some money.

And the day before you could finally go buy it, my dad broke my bass in a moment of anger in one of his typical fights with mom that got really out of hand. At least he didn’t hurt her, huh? But when you're a kid you don't even think about the possibility that something like that could happen, you just focus on the broken instrument in your hand. I ran out and ended up on the stairs of your house with my face soaked and one of the broken pieces in my hand.

You hugged me and promised that everything would be fine. That I was always going to have you four and that we would always be family. You assured me that good things happen to good people. And I believed you, you know? You were always right. But now that I'm here, that I know you didn't have the happy ending you deserved, I'm honestly not so sure anymore.”

Luke and Alex start crying again, each hugging Reggie from one side. Reg tries with all his might to continue through the tears, while Julie looks at them with a broken heart.

“The next day when I came back from school a new bass was on my bed. You talked to Mom so she could take the credit for the gift, but coincidentally was exactly the bass that I fell in love with a year earlier when we went to check if your beloved yellow guitar hadn't dropped in price. Luke revealed to me a few months later that you had to borrow money from your mom in order to complete the exact money for that one.

How generous do you have to be in order to do something like that? how noble? How loving? How selfless? You were always more than I deserved. I was supposed to be like an older brother for you, but it was always you who took care of me. I have Julie and Carlos, and I'm trying to be with them as you were with me. I had the best step sister in the world to teach me, and I hope I can do you justice.” Julie starts crying too after hearing his words, and resists the urge to going to hug him because she knows that they need their space to let go all the suffering that they carry.

“Second, my leather jacket.

When we started the band we made a 100% commitment to being rockstars. And a very important part is the look. You accompanied me on a walk around the city looking for the right outfit to literally go sing to the people who were lining up in front of the clubs.

Anyone could have left me alone on that for multiple reasons, not even these two wanted to face the trouble. But you followed me without thinking twice.

The afternoon was over and we still haven't found anything. Our feet couldn't take it anymore and we had 10 minutes to run to the club. But we stopped by a little store that had a black leather jacket in the window and you said, Reg, this is it.

You excitedly took me by the hand and when I tried it on, the rest was history.

Then I tried to get the whole band to use them but these two boys without fashion sense didn’t want to. You, on the other hand, supported me and wore your leather jacket during all the Sunset Curve performances we had, convincing me that they were our good luck charms and that if we both used them everything would be amazing. Oh god, I miss you so much.

And third, a star.

I thought you were a star when I heard you sing for the first time.

I thought you were a star when you and Luke managed to write the whole Sunset Curve album in 2 months.

I thought you were a star when you bought me my bass, when you made Alex feel better after one of his strongest attacks, when you filled Luke with love and support when he needed it the most.

And I believe it now that I know you are gone.

If you are in heaven, you have to be a star. And not just a star, the brightest star of all. I promise to look for your light every night to wish you sweet dreams. I will also sing you some country since you were the only one who appreciated my incredible sound, I hope it makes you smile.”

“That was beautiful, Reggie. I’m sure she loved it.” Julie finally reaches out to hug him as Alex prepares to be next.

“Hey. I don’t even know where to start.

I- I guess I should start saying I could never pay you all the times you were there to pick me up when I needed someone the most. I went back to dancing a little again. It's not the same without you, but somehow it makes me feel you close. I also met someone, oh Y/N, he’s so special, I'm sure you would have loved him and I would have loved the opportunity to introduce him to you. You were always there.

You were there to support me when I decided to learn drums to cope with my anxiety. You sang the song I was practicing over and over to keep me company and reassure me that what I was doing sounded good.

You were there to support me when I told you I like to dance. We spent hours choreographing different iconic songs and just laughing and enjoying creating more memories together.

Not shocking at this point but you were also there for me when I confessed to my parents I’m gay and you gave me strength all those times that I wanted to fall because they no longer saw me the same way.

You were always my safe place. And I regret with all my heart that I couldn’t be yours.”

Alex breaks down. She kept them on their feet during her darkest days and they paid her off by causing her the most horrible pain imaginable. Julie and Reggie surround her in their arms while sobbing. The last one of the band standing moves closer to the grave and drops to his knees.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so fucking sorry.” Luke tries to be strong, but tears start falling like waterfalls from his eyes, his face red in a mixture of despair, sadness and anger.

“I will never forgive myself for leaving you alone. Baby, I've been without you for only 1 month and I’m going crazy, even with the boys and Julie by my side. I don't even want to imagine what you must have been through those two years. My soul is shattered just thinking about it.

At first when we returned I imagined you were happy after having fulfilled all our plans with someone else. And I thought nothing could hurt me more than that, but obviously I was wrong. Because although it hurt me that I couldn’t be the one who was with you, thinking that you had been happy gave me the peace to be able to continue. Now that I know that life took away your opportunity, the only thing I feel is anger.

Anger towards me, anger towards destiny. Anger at not being able to be together even after death. Since we discovered where you are, I have only been able to think of cross over and finally be with you again.

Or at least go back to the night before everything turned into a nightmare. Fall asleep with you in my arms one more time.

I swear I even miss your snoring and you biting my cheek after your goodnight kiss, as you would say, in a gesture of love.”

“Hello again, my love.

I can't believe 25 years have passed. First of all, I want you to know that I'm okay. Or well, the equivalent for ghosts that are destined to haunt the earth alone for all eternity. I made a friend for several years, Rose. I told you about her, remember? I know you guys would have been good friends, she was a ridiculously talented musician. Since she died I no longer had the strength to go back to the studio, but for a long time I enjoyed her company in one of my favorite places. She promised to tell you that I'm waiting for you. I will wait whatever time is necessary, okay? I love you so much, baby.

You three are always on my mind, and I think I can finally accept that the pain is just never going to go away. But lately something super strange has happened to me, let me tell you.

Throughout these years, in the darkest days, I see you. But, they were always memories.

A month ago, I started to see you having other kinds of experiences and I honestly don't know how to feel about it. Am I going that crazy? I selfishly hoped that you too were ghosts for so many years. I looked for you 5, 10, 15, 20 years. And just as I decide to give up, my head imagines you all over the city.

The first time I saw you singing Reggie's jam on the beach. You guys looked so happy, love. It filled my heart with peace for a few seconds, knowing that somewhere up there you are enjoying life singing together all day.

Then I saw my beloved Alex with a cute boy. My heart melted, I can’t even explain how much I wanted to run to hug him and gossip about it.

Baby, he looked so peaceful. I always wanted that for Alex. I didn't know whether to be happy or cry because that didn’t actually happen, so I did both.

The penultimate time was a few nights ago when I was walking in front of the Orpheum and I heard your voices. How wicked my mind is, right? A knife to the heart would hurt less.

And now, I can't even get close to your grave because I'm imagining you all again.”

Y/N doesn't know what to do, if she gets close enough will they disappear? What If they don’t? Will she bear to see them up close? She has been dancing with their ghosts in her dreams for so many years, but It’s not the same as doing it when she is fully awake.

She is about to run out of there in fear when the silhouette of a fourth person catches her attention. She doesn't know why, but it immediately reminds her of Rose. Could it be that she is imagining her friend too?

Curiosity is stronger than fear, like all those times when she got into trouble with her boys. She walks carefully towards her grave which is next to her beloved Luke.

“I swear I even miss your snoring and you biting my cheek after your goodnight kiss as you would say, in a gesture of love.”

“I don't freaking snore, I told you a million times already... and now I'm talking with my imagination, great.”

The band turns in shock towards the fifth voice. That's when she can see the girl's face and realize who she is.

“Julie? But, how?”

“Y/N?” Alex whispers on the verge of passing out.

She starts to panic, just before the boys can do something about it, a new person appears behind her.

“Hey, you took a long time." She turns around and jumps into the arms of who has become her only friend in recent years.

“Phoenix, thank god.” Her body continues to shake but she clings tightly to her friend while crying uncontrollably.

To say the ghosts are confused would be an understatement. And apart from that, the guitarist is having many conflicts with the jealousy that he is feeling at the moment. They haven't seen each other in 25 years and when they finally do, she runs into someone else's arms and clings to him like her life depends on it.

What does that mean for them? Is it too late?

“Beautiful, what's wrong? Who are they? Oh, wait. You guys were at the club a few weeks ago, you're friends with Willie, right?”

Luke feels like dying all over again hearing him call her that. She continues to shake but finally lets go.

“What? You can see them?”

“Shouldn’t I?” He looks at her skeptical and shifts his eyes from her to the ghosts.

“I- Oh my god. I'm going to pass out.“

“Baby, look at me.” Luke’s voice is a mix between a plea and a demand. The terror of knowing that perhaps he has already lost her without having had the opportunity to fight for her clouds his judgment and tears begin to fall from his face again.

25 years. 25 years fighting not to forget his voice. 25 years having him only in dreams, in memories, in melodies. 25 years waiting for him. 25 years on her own.

She turns slowly to meet those honey-green eyes she craved for so long to see, a painful smile from Luke makes her smile through tears.

She carefully lifts her right hand and gently draws it to his cheek, almost exploding at the feel of it.

“You came back. Oh my, It’s really you.” She jumps to the guitarist, entwining her legs at his hips, her arms tangled with all her strength around him, her head buried in his neck inhaling his scent. Tears coming out as if to drown her, all the pain and suffering that she faced all these years finally leaving her body.

Luke wraps her tightly in his arms, still unable to process what’s happening.

Alex and Reggie begin to smile without fully assimilating what is happening, while Julie begins to jump of joy.

“Babygirl, I'm sorry to ruin the moment but I have to rush to the club. Will you be okay here?"

“She's always safe with me." The guitarist growls, and Y/N starts laughing when she hears it.

"The jealous, protective baby in the beanie is right, don't worry Nix. I’ll go and find you later."

Phoenix nods with a smile and disappears. Julie begins to scold Luke while Reggie and Alex approach to touch the cheek of their best friend, still in the arms of the guitarist who does not seem to have any intention of letting go.

“We should go home to catch up. Reggie and I will accompany Julie, it seems that you two should speak alone first." Luke doesn't think twice and disappears with her in his arms.

“Good things happen to good people.” Reggie whispers as he hugs his friends and they start walking home.

Luke and Y/N reappear in the studio and they are both shocked for a few seconds. The girl trembles again in fear of dreaming.

“Hey, come here baby. Shh, I’m here, I promise.”

“Don’t leave me ever again, please.” He can see that it is very difficult for her to understand that is really happening, and to think that she lived without him not 2 but 25 years makes him want to cry again.

“I won’t. I promise, beautiful. Never again.” Luke wraps her in his arms, but she lifts her head from his chest to push her lips against his. The kiss is urgent, but they both instantly recognize each other and fit in perfectly. Luke picks her up again and gently lays her down on the couch, both desperate to feel the other, to recognize every inch.

“I missed you so much baby, I love you more than anything.” Luke whispers between kisses, not willing to have her an inch away from him.

“I love you my love. I love you, I love you, I love you.” She says while kissing the love of her life, happy for the first time in 25 years.

Before things get to escalate, the rest of the band shows up in the studio followed by Julie who clearly walks through the door.

"Let go of her man, it's our turn!" Y/N gets up quickly from the sofa while her boyfriend complains and she throws herself at both of them who pick her up as best they can and spin her in the air.

They put her down and Julie and her stare each other, both raise their arms and meet in a quick but sweet hug.

“You said my name back there, how?” The question that she has stuck since she met her finally coming to light.

“I met your mom many years ago when I came to visit the studio and realized that she could see me. We were friends for many years and I had the opportunity to see you grow up, but I always made sure to be upstairs when you came in in case you could see me too.”

“Well, now I understand how Carlos felt when he found out that we lived with ghosts. And It sounds like mom watches over us both from heaven.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she does.” Both girls smile and hug each other once more.

“I can't believe I endured 25 years without having those beautiful arms around me.” She whispers as they both lie on the couch, Luke has her completely cornered in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It breaks my heart that you have suffered that much for so many years.”

“It was not your fault. You lost as much as I did that night. Besides, I always knew that you would find me sooner or later. We belong together.”

“We do. I, I k-know we have way more to talk about but, who was the dude from the cementery?”

The insecurity in his voice is evident and Y/N can't help but smile. His emotions are complex, real, and nothing can make her happier than that.

“I’ll tell you all about my friend later, okay? For now... dance with me? I want to dance with the real deal.” He smiles and they both stand up, hugging each other as they slowly move through the studio as they did many times before life separated them.

The Luke in her arms is her Luke, the same one she has been waiting for so many years, finally back in her arms. And just as she thought when she lived, she will dance with his ghost for all eternity.

Thank you for reading✨✨

Taglist: @writerinlearning, @ghostofmgg @strangerthanfanfiction713, @thebloodthirstyvampress, @kinda-really-lost, @kcd15, @magnet-girl, @aliandthephantoms, @stxrkspidey, @pinkrockstar19, @s0uz4s, @shycupcakealissa @cookiebuba, @fangirlangioma, @sageellsworth05, @twist3dtinkerbell, @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve, @caitsymichelle13, @ifilwtmfc, @luckylouiebug, @bibliophilewednesday, @totomoshi, @siennanoelle01, @lunashadow6955, @bookfrog247, @morganayennefertyrell, @kiss-themoongoodbye, @rachelle3musicals, @imsydneywalker, @really-dont-forget-it @agentstarkid @talksoprettyjjx @kaitieskidmore1 @lukeys-giggle @katie-navarro @crybabyddl @cocopuffs0211 @marvel-ousnesss @blackhood5sos @tessxblxckthorn

Goy tags: @eternalharry @xplrreylo

[localsimplady]

Dark Paradise 💫

[Viego x Y/N sad/modern AU]

Please do not take me wrong, I love my boy but love is cruel and I also love to see him sad.  <3

7:00 a.m, Viego woke up and a big smile formed on his face as he remembered that today was his anniversary, he had to work and that discouraged him a bit but he was still happy.

─── Don't worry my love, I promise to go see you.  ───

He said to himself without erasing his smile, he showered, changed his clothes and finally made a classic black coffee while he waited for his breakfast to be cooked, he cooked very well but he really missed the breakfasts you used to. prepare.

He sighed heavily yet he kept smiling, he knew they were going to get back together no matter what.

He took his breakfast in silence remembering your smile and all the nice things you said to him, he finished his breakfast and left the dishes in the sink.

7:50, he had 10 minutes left, he read some pages of the newspaper and fixed his tie Ah, he missed how you scold him when he couldn't put his tie on.

It was already 8:00 he stood in the doorway waiting for someone to fire him but no, no one did.

All the way to his work, only he thought about you and how you liked gardenias.  He parked his car at a flower shop and bought the most precious bouquet that they sold there. He saw them and contemplated them for a long time.

─── That bouquet is lovely, isn't it young man?  ─── an older-looking lady, the owner of the store, came out to meet him.

─── That's right, surely she is going to love them, she loves gardenias ───

───  your girlfriend sir? ───

─── My wife, in fact today we have been married for three years.  ─── he replied with his best smile, wherever Viego went he bragged about you, you were his greatest adoration.

─── That's wonderful!  Good luck boy.  ───

Viego thanked the kind lady for the words, paid for the flowers and returned to his car ready to go to his work.

He wasn't going to leave the flowers in the car, he didn't want to bring you dead flowers, he wanted them to be beautiful like you.

Upon entering the building where he worked, his niece, Kalista received him with a big hug and then she looked at the flowers

─── Are they for her?  ─── To this Viego nodded as he smiled.

── she will love them ──

─── Hopefully so ───

Saying this, he left Kalista and went straight to his office, put your flowers in water and all day he was looking at them.

He was the boss and he gave himself the freedom to retire earlier so that he could come and see you and he did so, at noon he said goodbye to Kalista, took the flowers and went to where you were.

─── Good afternoon my love, look, I have brought gardenias for you, they are your favorites, I had not come to visit you in a long time, today we have been married for three years and I thought this would be a good way to apologize ... ───

He knelt before your grave and left the bouquet that he had cared for all day, he tried to keep the smile that you liked so much but he couldn't take it anymore, he could no longer contain his sadness and burst into tears right there.

─── I ... I know you hate seeing me sad and ... and I really tried to continue with my life and be happy but ... I can't ... I miss you too much and, and I don't know if I can continue like this ... ───

Tears kept pouring out of his beautiful eyes, no matter how hard he tried to reassure himself, he couldn't, it was too much for him.

─── It was very rude of you to have left without saying goodbye, why did you do that?  I only wanted the best for you, for both of you and you ... you just left me ... you were very cruel and even so I still love you ───

He knew it wasn't your fault, how could he know you were sick?  You didn't say anything to him so as not to worry him but ... everything ended up worse.

He was upset with himself, he couldn't do anything and that constantly tortured him, he would give anything to see your smile again and hear how you told him that everything was fine, but you were no longer with him.

Several minutes later, he managed to calm down or something like that, with regret in his heart he said goodbye to you and got in the car, he no longer wanted to be in the cemetery, he only wanted to run away and get home hoping that you would welcome him.  But he knew that would not be possible.

The weather was horrible, it rained as it was rarely seen in the year, his house was far away and the road was alone, because of the tears that he had shed his eyesight had become very bad and his eyes hurt and that was how he could not see that a truck was going to crash into him.

You and he will be together again, you and he will be happy again as they used to be in their sunny days, in paradise they would meet to spend all eternity happy.

Requests are open!

[bourbonbees]

Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there’s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Closets & Wendy’s.

“Last day of Pride!”

Dean projects himself onto Cas’s bed, ending up sprawled on his front, with an arm slung over Cas’s lap.

On receiving no more greeting than Cas’s hand landing in his hair and starting to card through it, he lifts his face from the comforter, props himself up on his elbows - chin tucked in a palm - and stares at his boyfriend.

Cas looks upset.

The corners of his lips tilt passively downwards, eyebrows carrying most of the weight of his frown.

“Cas?” Dean asks, neutrally - already regretting his overhyped entrance.

“I’m sorry- I don't feel -”

Words fade out, and Cas pauses. Then he turns to actually look at Dean, the sadness seeped into his eyes, and Dean doesn’t waste a moment getting up, knee-waddling over into Cas’s space and pulling him close.

Cas comes easily, planting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and exhaling a tired breath when Dean runs a hand over his back.

“What are you feeling?” Dean asks, after a beat, now trying to soothe Cas’s tense shoulders, rubbing gently over the cotton. Cas leans into his touch.

About three years of therapy, and nearly six years of being roommates - undergrads, and then actual friggin’ grad school - with Cas, basically Dean’s personal mascot for healthy communication, has led him to definitely know that it’s always a better alternative to talk about what you are going through, instead of what you aren’t.

(Or, you know, what you think you should be, just because your dumb, insensitive boyfriend who’s been obsessed with Pride since finally coming out and-slash-or best-friending up with Charlie Bradbury, is. And rather loudly, at that, because Dean Winchester’s a goddamn idiot.)

“Disappointment.” Cas says, morosely, but almost as soon as he hears his own words, he rephrases. “Uh. I’m the disappointment.”

“Well, did you secretly sneak out and mark yourself absent for the entire semester in all your 4.0 GPA classes when I wasn’t looking?”

“Dean.”

“Fine, 3.7.” Dean throws back. “Big friggin’ deal, nerd.” Cas lets out a huff of breath which almost resembles a chuckle, and Dean squeezes his arm around Cas. “You know that would’ve totally been a four if I’d been less distracting.”

“Interesting.” Cas corrects.

“Hot.” Dean throws back, just because he knows it’ll make Cas crinkle into one of his fond ‘what-do-I-do-with-you’ smiles. It does. 

“Perfect.” And Cas throws in a sigh, as if to solidify his point, and leans in to nuzzle Dean’s neck in a way so intensely Cas, that if anyone else had ever tried it, he’d either end up being tickled to death, or running the hell out of dodge. 

“We’re on you right now, Cheesy McCheesington.” Dean smiles back, and goes on. 

He’s not willing to let Cas close up into a ball of repressed emotions with happy only on the outside. That’s way more Dean’s thing - or rather, used to be. He knows he’s bettered his coping mechanisms. Mostly because every part of his life involves Cas now, and anything with Cas is good. 

They’ve grown a lot together - grown through a lot as well, and this is how they’ve done it. By talking through, the Castiel way. It still throws Dean off sometimes, how far they’ve gotten.

So when Cas whines in protest into Dean’s shirt, he knows exactly how to turn it into a side-hug. One of those, where they end up staring at each other from a three-inch distance.

Staring hard, Dean says it. “You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Cas. To anyone.”

The lecturers all adored him, their friends made it a point to keep proclaiming their affection out loud (thank god for Charlie Bradbury and co.), and Dean doesn’t think he could be more proud of Cas if he tried. 

He was a goddamn wonder.

He’d gone from a lanky, private-schooled, what’s-a-Star-War schmuck to one of Dean’s favorite people in the world. He was hilarious, and a genius, and kind. He’d grown into his shoulders, and into a stubbly kind of an age, and into this awesome, intelligent, pancake-making man of Dean’s dreams, and into his bee obsessions and organizational neatness - and complete, total perfection. 

(Dean needs him, appreciates him, and (not that subtly - to his credit), loves him in a forever sort of way.)

But before Dean’s properly began to remind Cas of any of it, he’s interrupted. 

“I’m disappointing me, Dean.”

There’s resignation in his tone, and evidence in every word he says. 

“June’s over. Again. And for all the marching with painted cheeks and the megaphones? For all the parades, and the celebrations of our identities, the togetherness, the being proud of being ourselves?” Cas lets out, bitterly, and Dean realizes he knows where Cas is going with this. “And I still haven’t come out to my family.”

Dean waits, sure that Cas isn’t finished. 

“How have I not done it yet?” Cas hisses, and it almost startles him - he’s swapped the upset for angry. It’s rarer. “I’ve known since I was a teenager - and we’ll have been together for five years in three months, Dean, and I just - I cannot believe I still can’t do it.”

He sounds helpless, and Dean wants to jump in, but he needs Cas to get the words out first. 

“What’s the matter with me? Am I not brave enough, or strong enough - or am I still hanging onto the hope that they’ll suddenly become better human beings and not disown me when I tell them?” Cas scoffs. 

He’s pissed at himself. 

“Maybe I still lack, as you say, free will.”

Dean has to step in at that. “That was six years ago, and you know I wouldn’t say it now.”

“Why not?” Cas challenges. “I couldn’t tell them then, either. I clearly haven’t changed.”

“Other things, Cas.” Dean says, and grits his teeth. This isn’t supposed to be them yelling. Cas is frustrated, and Dean’s listening - he can’t be frustrated back at him for the way he expresses it. “Other things have changed.”

Cas gives him a look, but Dean holds his end of it until it crumbles. Cas changes his offense. Mellows down - probably when he sees Dean’s restraint. “This is important to me. I want to do it. Then why can’t I tell them?”

He’s asking himself, but he’s also asking the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself, yet he’s also not asking at all - simultaneously, it’s also rhetorical.

Dean licks his lips. 

“Whatever be the answer to that, Cas, first things first. This doesn’t imply you’re not proud enough.” 

Cas looks away.

“Or, for that matter, not panromantic or demisexual enough.” 

Sigh. Shuffle, shift. And then he looks back up at Dean. The tears weren’t there before. “How do you know, Dean?”

“‘Cause I know this doesn’t decide that.”

“Why not?” Cas says, quietly.

“‘Cause,” He repeats. “How queer you are isn’t measured on a scale of how soon you come out once you know.” He pauses, judges the air. “It usually isn’t measured at all, unless we’re talking about a magical thing known as the Kinsey Scale.”

He judged right. 

Cas coughs, and it’s definitely to disguise a reluctant snicker.

“And you know, even if it were measured on the weird first thing,” Dean adds, serious again. “There’d totally be a different clause, and a separate key, mind you, for the people with douchebag families.”

“They prefer conservative, I think.” Cas says, smally, after an entire minute, as if he’d actually been rerunning Dean’s speech in his head for that long.

Dean shrugs.

Cas almost smiles. He’s calmed down.

“The strange thing is that it makes no sense.” He begins, heavy, albeit less severe on himself. “I’m twenty six. We co-own this apartment, and we pay our bills. We’re completely independent.” It never stops sounding surreal. That’s for another time. “Mother calls me on third Sundays, Gabriel sends Christmas cards. Other than that, I only spend Thanksgiving lunches with them, each year more horrible than the last. I know I wouldn’t miss any of them, nor regret being written out of the will. Or have my Novak cemetery spot passed onto Michael’s oldest. Or the gardener.” 

Dean snorts at that. The Novaks are truly something else. 

“There is no reason I can’t just come out. I just -” Cas cuts into his own sentence with a sigh, one signifying that he’s finally done speaking, and he reclaims Dean’s shoulder once more.

What’s important right now, is to make him feel better. A resolution to this isn’t within grasp at the moment, and Cas sounds drained. Dean - well, he does what he does best. He segues. 

“Wait.” Cas lifts his head. “You didn’t actually say you’re not out, did you?”

Cas squints at him.

“Dude. Being out doesn’t just mean telling your family. And getting subjected to toxicity and trauma, by means of it.” Dean points out, earnest. By that logic, courtesy of a long-dead mom, and a relatively-shorter-dead dad, he’s in the closet as well. “Hell, you put your hand in my back pocket at KFC, yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. 

Dean grins, and Cas’s surprise makes it easy to do so. “You bet my publicly grabbed ass, it counts.”

Cas knows it counts. He knows everything that counts. But he indulges himself, and he indulges Dean - his bad mood slowly dissipating. “What else?” 

“You kissed me at Wendy’s last week.” Dean informs him, eyebrows raised. “Held my hand for a really long time in a Starbucks queue on Saturday. Oh, and all the gay bars count, buddy. Especially the bits where we grind on the dance floor, and then I blow you in the stall.” 

Cas opens his mouth to protest that has only happened once, but Dean meets his eyes with a pointed look. He’s got to bring it up.

“Every time I’ve ever taken you to a steak joint counts too. ‘Cause trust me, those are always dates, whether you know it or not.”

“Long drives are a date to you.” Cas deadpans. 

“Yeah, and Baby will never say you’re not out.” Dean throws back, and Cas actually makes it to a smile this time. Dean’s left feeling accomplished. (And sort of dazed, because it’s going to take a lot more than six years for him to get used to Cas being so easily beautiful, and being it right next to him.)

“You said you loved me for the first time at the Roadhouse.” Cas says.

Dean blushes. 

“And then you ran away before I could react, got really drunk and karaoke’d I’m Too Sexy on the stage, and passed out on my lap right as I tried to say it back to you.”

This is definitely not his favorite story, but it always lights Cas up, and that’s all that matters, really - so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly and Cas smiles wider.

Silence prevails for a moment.

“Look.” Dean ends up being the one to break it. Cas listens, hanging onto each word. “You’re the only one who knows why you can’t do it, okay? My best guess would be an internalized decision to avoid conflict. Maybe you call your old therapist tomorrow - like, I dunno, a cameo from Castiel, unresolved coming-out issues sorta thing. Of course, we can talk about it too. Get six cheeseburgers and twelve beers, and figure things out on your own. But it’s up to you.” Cas exhales into a little smile. “All I know is, it doesn’t matter to anyone that you haven’t told your family, if it doesn’t matter to you. 

Cas nods, a couple of times, and there’s the barest hint of tears again, but this time doesn’t make Dean want to punch God. 

It makes him want to hug Cas, so he goes for it. 

“Even if you were in the closet, Cas? I’d say the same.” Dean adds, as an afterthought, about a minute into a hug which doesn’t seem to be nearing an end. Not really. No one minds, so there’s that. “This community, this month - everything about Pride is about all of us, and if Charlie’s ever called me handmaiden, trust me she’s said this a million times. It means everyone. Includes people in the closet, every bit as those who’re out.”

Cas hums in agreement, and tilts his head against Dean’s.

“In any case,” Dean teases. “Your family’s over in Illinois, anyways. Here, where it counts? You’re as out as you can be.”

“I could kiss you in more Wendy’s.” Cas contemplates, because he’s awesome like that.

“What has Burger King ever done to you?”

Dean listens to him considering it with a thoughtful note, and mutters a “Dork.” It helps keep him grounded for he feels like he’s floating right now - ‘cause there’s something about the way Cas holds onto him. Tighter.

Like somehow, even after all this time, they managed to fall a little more in love today. 

And somehow, they’ll keep doing it forever.

[daresplaining]

Any AU:s you like where Daredevil get a (at least) semi-happy existence?

    There aren’t that many; most alternate universe Daredevil stories operate along the lines of “Here’s how this situation could have been even worse than it was”. And I love dark, disturbing hypotheticals, so I’m fine with that. But as far as upbeat AUs go, my big favorite is 1602. Look at this happy balladeer having fun:

[ID: Excerpt from the 1602 mini-series, showing 17th century versions of Matt Murdock and Natasha Romanov standing in the sun together as Natasha unpacks their horse. Matt has shoulder-length wavy hair and is wearing a white shirt, brown pants, and a red vest. Natasha is wearing a black hooded cloak.]

Matt: “You’re asking me to sing to you? Natasha, you’re becoming almost human. Of course. Now let me see...”

[ID: He spreads his arms wide and starts singing.]

Matt: “But just as they think that their troubles are o’er, they re-al-ize what they’ve become, for the captain’s a monster, which irks him full sore, the bravo’s a burning man, flames from him pour...”

Marvel 1602 #4 by Neil Gaiman, Andy Kubert, and Richard Isanove

    Yes, he gets tossed off a bridge and locked in a dungeon afterward, but he gets through it with his smile and swagger undamaged, giving off the sense that this is just a regular Tuesday for him. 

    I also really like the universe in which young Matt gets rescued by Tony Stark and Nick Fury after his accident and ends up becoming a SHIELD agent. It’s a fun premise, and while it’s only an origin story for this version of Matt and we don’t know what happens to him later, it’s very upbeat and leaves him in a positive, hopeful position.   

[ID: Matt Murdock, Nick Fury, and Jack Murdock are standing around talking. Fury and Matt are both wearing blue jumpsuits, and Matt has a white cloth over his eyes. Jack is shirtless. The floor is scattered with incapacitated Hydra guys in green jumpsuits.]

Fury: “Looks like it all came out in the wash, Murdock! I got me an agent, and you’re set for the rest of your life!”

Jack: “Yeah, now I won’t haveta sign with that goon, the Fixer! But there’s one problem, Matt... What about the promise I made to your mom that you’d become somebody important?”

Matt: “But I will be important, Dad-- I’ll be fighting for freedom all over the world! And besides, no one’ll know that Matt Murdock is a SHIELD agent... they’ll know me only by my code name... a nickname I got when I was a kid... ��Daredevil!’”

What If? vol. 1 #28, “Matt Murdock, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.” by Mike W. Barr, Frank Miller, Glynis Wein, et al.

   There’s also “What if Elektra Had Lived?” which provides a glimpse of a world in which Elektra is not killed by Bullseye, and she and Matt run off together. It’s somewhat bittersweet because Matt leaves everyone else in his life behind, but it’s still a lovely little corner of the multiverse in which Elektra and Matt seem to actually get their happy ending. 

[ID: A panel on the left shows Matt (from the back, in a green jacket) standing in a dark cemetery in the rain, talking to a shadowed figure (the Watcher), who is holding an umbrella. Three panels on the right show Matt and Elektra climbing along rocks on a picturesque shore. They kiss.]

Watcher: “Franklin Nelson will never find you. He will not see a new life begin, half a world away...”

What If? vol. 1 #35, “What If Bullseye Had Not Killed Elektra?” by Frank Miller, Terry Austin, Joe Rosen, and Glynis Wein

    I also like the short What If? story from the 50th anniversary issue, which shows us a 50-year-old Matt who has retired from superheroing and is living a peaceful life in San Francisco with his wife (who goes unnamed for continuity purposes), their son Jack, and Foggy. I have one-or-two nitpicks with this one, but there’s also a lot I love about it, and its hopeful view of Matt’s future places it in direct contrast with most other forward-looking Daredevil AUs, in which Matt is usually dead. 

[ID: Matt is on his hands and knees on a sunlit street. His face is covered in bandages. Next to him, his preteen son Jack is scolding a brown dog wearing a harness.]

Jack: “Bad dog! Bad Lightning! Dad, are you gonna be okay?”

[ID: Matt, still on his knees, hugs Jack.]

Matt: “We both are. I love you, Jackie.”

Jack: “Love you, too.”

Daredevil vol. 4 #1.5, “The King in Red” by Mark Waid, Javier Rodriguez, Alvaro Lopez, et al. 

    And finally, I really love the MC2 universe. While I wouldn’t necessarily call it a happy existence for Matt, because he’s dead, he seems to be having a fairly relaxed time as a ghost riding around in Darkdevil’s head.

[prose-for-hire]

Together under the moon

Pairing: Oz x male!werewolf!reader

Request: could I request something for oz? enthusiastic male reader who is mayhaps also a werewolf and has been for him for a while and finally gets the guts to confess to him! whether its fluff or not idc bc I'm a sucker or fluff and angst but i rlly enjoy your work so thank you for seeing this!!!

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Oz gets a little hurt. But nothing is described.

A/N: Sorry for the wait! Thanks for your patience, hope this is okay !! 💜🖤

You had loved him for as long as you could remember now. You had been friends for so long but these feelings that you harboured in private you just weren’t ready to share. You didn’t want to lose the close relationship you already had.

You were completely, blissfully head over heels for him. Oz. He acted so cool and unaffected, but you knew that he had such a sweet and kind soul.

And he got you, like he really got you. He was a werewolf like you.

Becoming a werewolf had never really been on your bucket list. You had been bitten one evening when you had taken a misguided walk after dark. It had devastated you at first. You had confided in him, knowing already that he was a werewolf too.  He had helped you adjust. Pulled you into a hug when you thought you couldn’t go on that way any longer. It had near-broken his heart when he saw you that way. You were usually so enthusiastic and sweet.

You had been worried when you thought he was graduating, wishing that you could still see him every day. Spend all your time together. In comfortable silence and others with you chattering, gushing over your interests. Him encouraging you softly. He near melted for you. So, when you found out he was re-doing the year you were secretly so pleased.

You were the reason he realised he was attracted to men. He had just gone ‘huh’ and shrugged when he realised and just accepted that he liked you. Only now, it was hard for him to actually verbalise his affection for you.

He found expressing his earnest feelings harder despite how often he tried. He would open his mouth, ready to confess how much he wanted you to be his boyfriend. But then you would look up form what you were doing and make his words fade back into nothing.

It was afternoon and you and Oz had a free period together. You loved this time of day because you could spend it just you and him. You rush into the library, a whirlwind of enthusiasm as you sat beside him and waved a little. He began to smile in that wry way he would when you made your presence known to him.

You had run in, gushing over everything that had happened and excited you in the last few hours since you saw him. He listened closely, he always did when you spoke. Even when he wasn’t as invested in the topic as you were, he always loved hearing your infectious excitement.

“Cool, man, very cool” He nodded. He adored you. Your enthusiastic nature was incredibly endearing to him. He wanted to spend all of his time with you.

“What’re you working on?” You asked, a smile tugged at his lips again. When you asked questions you were always genuinely interested in the reply. Ready to hang onto every word. You were special to him.

“Another song - for tonight. We thought as a band we’d give the whole gig thing a go”

“Nice! Are you gonna play ‘Together under the moon’?!” You couldn’t hold yourself back from gushing, that song was one of your favourites by Dingoes. Saying that, you did claim this about all the songs they played.

“Yeah, it’s on the setlist” Oz shrugged a little but his face always softened when he was talking to you. In a way it never did with anyone else, no matter how fond of them he was.

“You’re super talented! You say you wrote that one by yourself?” You praised him, missing the slight blush tinging his complexion as you laid such kind words upon him. He began to open his mouth to speak, to explain his inspiration behind it.

But he was interrupted as everyone else rushed into the library, their faces were solemn.

Giles explained that there was a wolf hunter in town. A really cruel one, his speciality was hunting werewolves while they were human, catching them and hunting them for sport later. It made everyone in the room’s blood run cold. Especially yours and Oz’s. You weren’t only worried about yourselves, but the idea of the other getting taken this way. It was horrible to even think about it.

There was a tenuous plan, whereby Giles suggested that you would have to wait it out until research told you otherwise. The group split into two halves so that you and Oz were split up and the others can provide back up. That way, if the hunter came across one of you, he wasn’t able to potentially capture the both of you at the same time.

You were both incredibly important parts of the Scooby gang so everyone nodded along to this plan, wanting to assist you both the best they could.

You didn’t want to be separated from him and the lingering gaze he gave you told you that he didn’t want to part from you either. He loved you, wanted to be there with you. Even if neither of you had spoken on it, in this moment somehow you knew. Even if you were still nervous to act on it.

Oz left you in the care of Willow and Giles. You were nervous, pacing and wringing your hands. You had so much nervous energy. The further he was away from you the harder it felt. You couldn’t bear being away from him.

You eventually sat down, leg bouncing still but you had appeared to calm down a little.

“You should tell him, you know…” Willow said kindly, watching how your gaze was still on the door from where Oz and the others had left through.

“What?” You asked. You were fond of Willow, she had been very nice to you ever since you had come out to her. She understood, maybe even more than she comprehended herself.

“U-uh, you and Oz with the softness and the heart-eyes” She murmured a little, faltering as she realised she could have gotten it wrong. But you smiled at her.

“Is it obvious?”

“Only to people with eyes” She said, although she was smiling. Trying to distract you from your worry. To give you something to hold on to. Telling him how you felt.

You appreciated her friendship and her encouragement. You felt Oz’s eyes on you when you were in the same room. You dared to hope he felt the same, just like how you had read his expression earlier. His innate need to be by your side. Because you felt it too.

But you often second-guessed yourself. You could have been projecting your own feelings. But hearing this from Will just confirmed it. Your love was shared.

The sun had set and it was early evening. You were still in the library with your minders. Willow was practicing a few spells just in case the hunter came your way. Just as she whispered a few practice incantations there was a massive bang at the door.

All three of you jumped, looking up. Hoping it had been Willow’s spell gone wrong and not worse.

Buffy and Xander ran in, turning your fears true. It was Oz. The hunter had managed to take him. Buffy was limping, holding her side. You didn’t blame her. you thanked her for protecting him the best you could. But you got angry yourself. Because it was him.

Your usual demeanour changed. Had an edge to it. You were kind-hearted and near wholesome for the most part but not now. Not when he was in danger. His heart called out to you. His cries. You felt it in your very soul.

You ran to where Buffy had said that it had happened. They warned you against it, tried to stop you but you just ran. As fast as your legs could take you. Through the thick undergrowth and past crumbling cemetery plots.

You saw blood. A trail of it. Leading towards the abandoned warehouse on the corner. You couldn’t not follow it, despite your instinct telling you it was going to be bad.

You felt this pull. This need for you to follow the path. The path to him.

You ran into the room, spotting him immediately. He had gotten away. Managed to release himself from the hunter’s grip but not without being hurt in the process. He had

“Oz!” You shouted, voice echoing around the abandoned warehouse. He was crouched on the floor holding his side.

“God, Oz, are you okay?!” You ran full speed over to him kneeling beside him, “I couldn’t stay away, I came as soon as I could!” You explained, your touch gentle with him, expecting the damage. You lifted his shirt up gently. Luckily it was a surface wound but you would patch him up once you got him back to your place. You explained this to him.

“It’s ok” He shook his head at you, his hand resting over yours as you let go of his t-shirt, “I knew you were there with me”

“Yeah?”

“We’re always together under the moon” He said, wincing slightly after the fight he had put up against the hunter. The song. It was about you.

You gasped, whispering feelings that had only been allowed the release in this moment. You cupped his cheek, eyes staring into the other’s. 

You needed to leave, before the hunter tracked his blood the way he had. Your werewolf instincts made it easier, but it was only a matter of time.

But before you helped him to his feet, took his weight and helped him back to yours, there was something you had to do. It had been building between you for so long. You knew so completely that he was yours. Wanted you to be his. You just had to.

You kissed him. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You had almost lost him. Your lips met his and he responded immediately. Pulling you closer, the scratch forgotten with his innate need for you. Instinctual yearning. Love. All of it. In that moment, neither of you knew where he ended and you began. You were connected. Soulmates. This kiss, passionate and full of urgency told you everything. Confessed all. As if you could read the other’s thoughts. The wolves inside you that had been calling for so long for the other took over.

This was no mere lust. Both of you with this kiss weaved stories of love. Of adoration. Desperation to name this feeling.

You were destined to be together, hold each other this way. To love him was as easy as breathing and as soon as you thought it, he knew.

From that moment, you truly would always be together. Connected by love. The moon blessing your union.

[shadowgeist-stars]

Kitagawa First: So Heavy the Crown

It should've been like any other Monday. Toru and Iwaizumi should've gone about their day off from practice as they usually did. He'd brought his nephew home and the two had intended to get something to eat together.

They should not have seen Tobio, of all people, standing in the cemetery.

It was already unlike him to be away from practice with the other crows this early in the afternoon. Especially wearing an oversized jacket vaguely similar to what they wore back in middle school. The strange hoodie he wore was familiar, but somehow not quite right; it even looked a little big for him.

“What in the world is he doing out here?” Iwaizumi wondered.

“Let’s go check it out,” Toru suggested with a smile. This could be a perfect opportunity to learn something about their former junior.

He was talking, they realized as they drew close. To himself, most likely, but Toru decided to take the stealthy route to hear exactly what Tobio was saying.

“I didn’t make it to Shiratorizawa like you did… but I think I still found a good team… At least, I hope you’d like them. Shiratorizawa might be too different from when you were there anyway… I still think about what you told me, back then… how if I got really good at volleyball, someone even better would come find me. I thought I found that person in middle school where you used to coach… But I guess it didn’t work out how I hoped…”

A small pang in Toru’s stomach told him that was probably about him. He was able to look at the name on the gravestone Tobio stood in front of, though, as well as the birth-to-death dates.

Kazuyo Kageyama… 1936-2010… sounds like a grandparent. And a volleyball coach, as well? Hmm... Volleyball must simply run in the family.

“But now, I think I found someone who is like what you were saying,” Tobio continued to the gravestone. “He may not look like much. He’s short, super annoying, and kind of a dumbass… but he’s the fastest and highest-jumping spiker I’ve ever seen… And sometimes, he’s the best friend someone like me could ask for.”

His head eventually lowered, his body starting to curl in on itself like he was going to fall to his knees. The third years almost thought they were starting to hear him sniffle.

“I just wish you could meet him, and everyone else… I think you’d like meeting them all. Sugawara and Asahi and Daichi… All the second years like Noya and Tanaka… maybe even Tadashi and Tsukishima and our managers and our coach and Mr. Takeda…” He crumbled to the ground with a sob. “I just… I miss you, Grandpa. More than Miwa or our parents. I have ever since…”

That was when the name finally clicked. Kazuyo Kageyama was the old coach of the infamous local ladies volleyball team, the Kitagawa Birds, who was forced into retirement due to illness. If both Tobio and this Miwa were related to him and he taught both of them volleyball from a really young age, it would’ve made sense that Kageyama would be such a good player so early on. And since the date said he died during Tobio’s second year in middle school… that had to have hit him hard.

Possibly… hard enough to make him into what Kunimi and Kindaichi called “the King of the Court.”

Iwaizumi took a small step closer, flinching when he stepped on the grass in just the right way that would make noise. Enough noise for Tobio to flinch away from the source and twist backward to see them both standing there. And more importantly, for them to see the tears starting to dribble down his face.

“Uh-um… what are you two doing here?” he asked, trying to clean his face with his sleeve (most likely to be his grandfather’s jacket).

“We’d ask you the same thing, but we heard enough to answer for us,” Toru replied. “Please, don’t let us stop you.”

Iwa slapped him on the back of the head. “Ignore him. We were just wondering what you were doing away from your team in a place like this.” His eyes scanned the gravestone once more, guiding Tobio into a position where the three could sit together. “You never really told any of us about your grandfather back in middle school, did you Kageyama?”

The first year shook his head.

“Didn’t think so… Well, if you’re feeling up for it with your old upperclassmen… care to share?”

Tobio drummed his fingers on top of one another for about a minute, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, let’s start small. Was your Grandpa the, uh… reason, why you got into volleyball?”

Tobio looked to his grandfather’s grave. “Sort of. He and my sister, Miwa, would always tell me about how I managed to get my hands on her volleyball when I was… a baby… and how I didn’t wanna let go of it. That might’ve been where it all started, but since Grandpa is the only one I really remember raising us, we’d both usually be with him when he was coaching the Kitagawa Birds, playing with some of the ladies, helping them practice, or just passing a ball to each other in a corner of the gym or practicing ourselves with the wall.”

The small story piqued Toru’s interest. Frankly, he found the mental image adorable, seeing a baby Tobio holding onto a volleyball and somehow keeping a grip on it with hands no bigger than the end of his thumb. His memory might be a little faded, but something similar could’ve happened with his nephew Takeru. And Tobio Kageyama, not actually being an only child… He couldn’t help wondering if that sister of his looked all that similar.

Iwaizumi seemed to like how it was going so far. “Okay. We remember you wanted to go to Shiratorizawa even back in middle school. Did your Grandpa have something to do with that?”

Tobio nodded. “He used to be a middle blocker for their team. Showed me his old yearbook and everything. Probably before the current coach showed up, though.”

“So it really does run in the family,” Toru commented. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised though.”

The smaller boy shrugged. “Miwa wound up quitting volleyball after middle school. She was getting more into fashion and stuff anyways, and didn’t like how she was always being told to cut her hair. At least, I think that was the reason.”

Wow. That, Toru could get behind, no questions asked. Sure, he wouldn’t give up volleyball for the world, but he’d definitely take offense if he was always being told to do something like change his looks or cut his lovely hair. That said, it was good to hear Tobio’s sister found her own calling, even if it wasn’t sports-related.

“Kinda wish you were able to introduce your sister and grandfather to the team, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi remarked. “They sound like it’d be pretty interesting to meet them both. Wasn’t your grandfather still coaching in middle school?”

The dark heaviness returned to the young setter. “No… Grandpa was already in and out of the hospital for a long time by then; more one than the other, though. He was able to keep on a brave face for me… but in second year, after you left, he… he…” his voice started quivering, the tears starting to return with new fury. “He left us behind… left me behind… I couldn’t even cry at his damn funeral because it never really hit me! And then after he left… Miwa had to get ready to move away for university… Our parents were distant enough even before he died, and… and then my own team left me!” He wrapped himself tight in his grandfather’s jacket, hands even moving to tangle into his hair. “I was all alone… I didn’t even know what I did wrong… Why all of a sudden I didn’t have anyone anymore!… Why?... Why, why, why?!”

Iwaizumi was quick to hug Tobio from the side, glaring over at Toru until he mirrored the action. It had already been clear enough that Tobio had been holding this all in for a long time. How just losing one person -- closer to him than anyone else in the world -- made him go from a sweet and eager-to-please junior (who still reminded Toru of Ushijima in some ways) to the bad-tempered dictator whose team got so fed up with him that he was given the boot.

No wonder, Toru thought to himself, sadness and guilt pooling in his stomach again. No wonder Tobio became so self-reliant. No wonder he underwent such a change in temperament. What kind of void did middle school leave behind while no one else was able to see?

First, he lost the two of us.

Then he lost his grandfather.

Then he lost his sister.

…Then he lost his team.

He understood now, to some extent. Kazuyo Kageyama didn’t just introduce his grandson to volleyball; he was the reason why the boy loved it so much. But when he left, so did the better parts of Tobio. There was no family or friends to help him carry that weight; it was just him.

Him, and the weight that threatened to crush him, that so many were so willing to call a crown. A tarnished, broken, absurdly heavy crown that they were only beginning to realize here and now.

Until by some miracle, Karasuno and that little shrimp brought him back to some semblance of his old self. Before them, he was left with nothing and no one but himself to rely on. He carried all of that grief, guilt, and frustration on his head for the better part of two years, not knowing what to do with it or with himself.

So they let him cry. They let him drop those long years of forcing down his grief over who he loved most, in loud, chest-ripping wails. Iwaizumi ensured they both kept him wrapped up in their arms, maintaining that small reminder that he should’ve never had to endure that alone. The spite Toru felt for Tobio all that time seemed to melt as well, filling in all the blanks for why he was such a good player and so eager to please and so not deserving of such hatred. Every assumption he made was dissolved by the knowledge about a single person.

“Huh? Toby, what are you doing over there?” a new voice inquired after a time they didn’t give any thought to. “And who are your friends?”

Toru looked through blurred vision at an approaching woman. She was probably around their age, with black, meticulously-styled hair and -- once he blinked away the mist -- deep blue eyes very similar to the first year he and Iwaizumi were hugging.

“Mi -- Miwa…” Tobio managed to hiccup out. The woman held a hand out to him, something he looked at with an almost painful mix of confusion and disbelief before he took it and let her pull him up. And even then, he barely maintained his composure long enough to droop over her shoulder, gripping at her in a desperate hug.

“Shh… I know, Toby, I know…” she soothed, rubbing circles into his back. “I miss him, too… I’m so sorry, Toby…”

He stayed there a little longer before numbly stepping away, wiping his face with his sleeve again.

The Seijoh players were shattered by the look in his eyes. The way they looked so… dead, and tired.

How did no one realize he was becoming like this?

Tobio almost swayed another direction before Iwaizumi stepped in and grabbed him. “Easy there, kiddo. Just lean on me -- there we go.” He looked over to the woman with a dip of his head. “I’m Hajime Iwaizumi, and this jerk over here is Toru Oikawa. We knew Kageyama back in middle school.”

The woman seemed to scan the two of them, almost skeptical.

“We’d be happy to help you out with Tobio,” Toru offered, all too happy to take on the diplomatic duty he was so used to. “He was telling us about his grandfather, you see, and it’s clear how much has been on his shoulders since his passing. We were doing what we could as his old upperclassmen.”

“I see…” Miwa replied, turning on her heel. “Follow me. My car’s not far from here.”

Iwaizumi had decided to sit in the backseat with Tobio, keeping him steady as he all but dozed on his shoulder. Toru rode shotgun while the Karasuno player’s sister drove them to the Kageyama household.

“I can’t believe he’s held onto Grandpa’s old track hoodie this long,” Miwa commented. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Because he and his grandfather were that close?” Toru inquired.

The woman nodded. “Even closer than I was with either of ‘em. Grandpa was really all he had, ever since… well, there was always that one thing our parents didn’t like for some reason.”

...Secretly, Toru had a feeling he knew what exactly “that one thing” was. He had his suspicions of the way Tobio behaved, almost entirely fixated on volleyball. The way he subconsciously reminded him of Ushijima. Who knows? Perhaps even the famous Ushiwaka was introduced to volleyball that early on as well, and had the same sort of mind.

“I suppose that’s simply an unfortunate truth with some people,” he replied offhandedly. “I’ll admit, I and some of our current teammates weren’t exactly fond of him in middle school. But then again, none of us had a clue about his personal life, and I’d wager Tobio didn’t even give himself time to grieve.”

“I guess I can’t blame you there. Toby never consciously dwelled on things that he didn’t think he had to, for better or worse. He wanted to be just like Grandpa, but after graduating from middle school not being able to get into Shiratorizawa, he figured volleyball was the only thing he had left.”

“And even then, he was all on his own,” Iwaizumi finished from the backseat when they stopped at the house. He even helped carry Kageyama inside. “We all knew how Oikawa gave the poor kid a hard time when he was still an eager-to-please prodigy in his first year, and even heard how his sudden change in attitude in his second year left him ostracized by the team. Though we never saw the other side of the story until now.”

He didn't even need to say it was because they refused to hear it.

After the Aoba Johsai players put the younger boy to bed, they both went to the bathroom to wash their faces of tears. On the way back down, they discovered the pictures that littered the house. A happy family that comprised of parents, a grandfather, and a little girl. But when a baby boy appeared, there was only one of all five before the parents all but disappeared. The only ones after were the two children and their grandfather.

In all of them, the grandfather in question sported a wide, proud smile. Whether it be with a far younger Miwa trying to brush his hair, tossing a volleyball with the even younger Tobio, or all three of them together, he still had that smile. A sort of light that went missing when he passed away, leaving both of his grandchildren behind.

“Your grandfather must’ve been quite a splendid role model for the both of you,” Toru said softly. “A light that even Tobio didn’t deserve to lose.”

Miwa hummed thoughtfully, leaving some tea to steep in a pot. “I don’t think Toby even realized how badly he was hurting. Honestly, I kinda wish I didn’t have to leave him so soon. If I knew how badly he was affected by Grandpa’s death, I would’ve held off on school just to make sure he’d have at least someone to be there… Maybe I just put too much trust into his teammates supporting him.”

Because Kindaichi and Kunimi thought he was nothing but a dictator at the sport. They didn’t think for a second that he might’ve just been lonely or in pain.

…Then again, neither did we.

“I don’t think you have to worry much about him now, though,” Iwaizumi pointed out. “We know we failed the poor kid, as his former teammates and as his upperclassmen, and we’re far from the only ones who did so. But I plan to make sure we fix that.”

Toru smiled at the ace’s declaration, looking towards Tobio’s room. Even if the now-sleeping boy may never really trust Toru again, at least his beloved might be able to get through to the younger setter. If they find the chance, they might even get Kindaichi and Kunimi to understand as well, and enlist their help in making amends.

“Besides, ever since joining Karasuno, we can tell he’s doing a lot better,” Toru added. “He’s… finally found a place where he fits in. And I for one doubt those crows will leave him the way we did, especially not his new little go-to spiker. Whether he finds it in him to tell them about this or not, I can at least be confident that they’ll stand with him.”

Miwa smiled at them both, finally pouring the tea for all three of them. “I’m glad for that, you two. Toby needs a lot of friends to make up for not having anyone before. Whether they know about Grandpa or not, I just want him to find a family of his own, if only to make sure it’s not just the two of us looking out for each other.”

The two young men could only stick around for about another hour, conversing with Miwa and looking after their former underclassman. They told her about each of the crows to the best of their ability, the woman occasionally throwing in her two cents about whoever Tobio actually told her about. When the sun said they had to head home, they gave Tobio one last check before they left with a final goodbye and thank-you to Miwa.

As they left, though, Toru couldn't help but take a final look at the almost foreboding Kageyama household, holding onto his boyfriend's arm. "Iwa… do you think Tobio will tell his other teammates about his grandfather? Should he?"

Iwaizumi sighed. "It would probably be a good idea, but I doubt it. He'll probably tell the little sunspot and Karasuno's other setter, if no one else, but only time will tell."

…I guess that's true, Toru thought to himself dully. Only time will tell, and trust as well…

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: The Flower Garden

Prompt: “can you write an imagine where luke is late to someone's funeral (like a family member or something) and realizes that he wants to bring flowers so on his way he steals some from the readers garden!!! fluff if you can :) thanks!”

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​ , @lcvischmitt​ , @ogmilkis​ , @goldenalvez​ , @ssa-morgan​ , @garcias-batcave ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016 ,  @yourwonderbelle​ , @rachelxwayne​ , @sc4rletw1tch​ , @moreidultrastan​ , @ellvswriting

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: hi bbys! sorry for being so mia i was on vacation all last week,, here’s a spontaneous, fluffy fic to make up for it!

Luke is late. In every sense of the word, he is so late. He’s been wearing this same pair of jeans for almost 48 hours now and his burgundy polo shirt is scratching uncomfortably underneath his rain jacket. His hands are freezing and he doesn’t even have any flowers. His family is going to be so mad.

He’s power walking, well aware that he probably looks like a mom on a mission in the grocery store (thinking of that makes his heart clench in his chest). There’s one more street to walk down–he refuses to drive there, it makes it feel too real. He stuffs shaking hands in his pockets and turns the corner.

Luke doesn’t have flowers. He’s visiting for the first time since it happened, he’s late, and he doesn’t have flowers.

He’s a block away when he sees them, the roses growing almost chaotically over a small wooden fence. He stops and looks down at them, then around. No one’s watching, so he crouches and picks a decent handful, murmuring a few sorries as the stems snap. He notes the house number and reminds himself to write a thank you note before standing up and continuing on his way.

Everyone’s already there when Luke arrives, eyes watery from the wind. His sister gives him a look that would’ve been terrifying if not for the red around her eyes, and Luke mouths his apology while passing out hugs.

With a deep breath he crouches and places the six roses at the base of the polished stone. “Hi, mom.” Luke whispers, pressing a kiss into his hand and then to her name. “Sorry I’m late.”

I miss you. I stole these flowers for you, the old lady they belong to probably noticed already. My boss gave me a few extra sick days because she knows. I’m tired of everyone knowing. I love you.

…

It happens a few more times in the course of two months, and Luke really doesn’t mean to make it a habit, but he can never seem to remember the flowers until he’s well on his way, and there are so many of them in the garden that he hardly feels bad. He never got around to writing the note.

He’s sitting in front of the grave with a bunch of daisies. “The girls miss you.” Luke says quietly, arranging the flowers nicely along the stone. The white is almost too bright to look at. “We all miss you, mom.” He whispers, feeling a tear run down his cheek. “Today at work someone brought in their therapy dog. I can’t remember it’s name, but it spent the whole time licking my shoe. Reckon he knows, too? Anyway, it was nice.”

Luke never means to cry but he always ends up doing it. It takes about twenty minutes for him to be able to breathe again, then he says goodbye and walks the three blocks to his car.

He usually visits once a week, sometimes one of his sisters comes with him. If it’s his younger one, they go get ice cream after. If it’s his older one, which it usually is, they get coffee and don’t talk about it.

…

It’s running on month six when Luke sees you. He’s holding a beautiful bunch of chrysanthemums by his side, when he notices that there’s someone in the window holding the curtain. You make eye contact, and Luke feels very guilty. You don’t look angry, although there’s a noticeable furrow between your eyebrows. You’re wearing a cotton bathrobe and holding a mug of coffee. Luke could use some coffee.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he just smiles and holds up the flowers. Then turns on his heels and walks as quickly as he can.

“It’s not an old lady, mum, it’s a girl. She saw me today, caught me red handed.” Luke mumbles, laughing a bit to himself as he clears away some old flowers and places the new ones. “She didn’t do anything though, so I think I’m okay.” His voice cracks as he says it, and then, as usual, starts crying.

…

It takes two more times for the rightful owner of the flowers to confront Luke about his thievery.

Luke’s on his knees, picking some cute purple flowers when he hears your voice.

“Um, hello?” Luke nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Oh shit.” Luke says, looking up and feeling his heart sink. “Right. I’m sorry I just–your flowers are very nice.”

You smile and cross your arms over your chest. “Thank you.”

Luke’s still kneeling, hands shaking where they’re holding stems. There’s sort of crooked smile on your face. Neither of you are saying anything. You’re wearing an old shirt with a hole near the hem. Luke’s hands are sweating.

“You know, if you’re going to steal my flowers to take to your girl, I think I’m going to have to come with you to make sure she’s beautiful enough to warrant theft.” You say, oddly calm and good natured.

Luke doesn’t know what to say. He just nods, trying to ease the panic rising in his chest.

“Add a few roses.” You order, and Luke nods, picking a few and standing up, finally. “I’m Y/N, by the way.“ You add, extending a hand.

Luke smiles and shakes it. “Luke.” You smile at him one more time and then you start to walk.

You pester him with questions about his imaginary girlfriend, and Luke tries to answer them in the vaguest way possible, all the while trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to explain this when you get to the cemetery.

“Did she like the daisies you picked last time? I always thought those were more of a flower you give your mom, but I guess they’re nice.” you babble, and Luke almost chokes.

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” he says, his heart racing in his chest. The small side entrance is only a few meters away, and you still have no idea. Luke doesn’t say anything as he walks through the gate, holding it open for you, who immediately stops talking as well.

The silence feels like a heavy blanket, and you just follow Luke as he makes the walk, now committed to memory. Luke almost forgets you’re there, dropping to the permanently grass stained knees of his jeans and managing a smile. “Hi Ma.” He places the flowers around the base of the stone, like he always does. Luke jolts when he feels a hand on his thigh, near his knee. He follows the arm up and meets your sad eyes. Luke hadn’t noticed you kneel, too.

“Luke..” you whisper, obviously surprised. Luke doesn’t blame you.

“Don’t.” he says quietly, sniffling and looking away from you. “I brought someone with me. She’s the one I’ve been stealing all the flowers from.” Luke says, smiling a bit and he hears you mumble a soft hello. “She hasn’t called the cops on me yet, which I guess is good.”

He takes a shaky breath before getting choked up. He puts his face in his hands and this was always just a part of his agenda, but the arm around his shoulders is new.

You start talking.

“The first time I was sitting in my kitchen and I was like, oh god do not pick the hibiscuses, they’ve got bees. But he didn’t, he chose some tulips instead.“ you laugh a little, and Luke almost starts crying again. “Between us, I hope he never stops.” you whisper, and Luke knows he wasn’t meant to hear it. There’s a lot he wasn’t meant to do.

Luke sniffles loudly and sits up to wipe his eyes. Your arm is still around his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” he says out of habit, as he’s been doing every time anyone’s seen him cry since October. But you just shake your head and use a thumb to wipe a stray tear.

“Don’t apologize.” You say, you put your hand back on your own lap. Luke wants to tell you to put it back. “I’ll um, give you some privacy.” You stand up and brush off your jeans. “And, Luke, you’re welcome to my flowers anytime.” You give him a bright smile before walking away.

Luke doesn’t watch you walk away. He turns back to the gravestone and sighs. “She’s kinda nice isn’t she mom?”

Luke can almost hear his mom yelling at him. 

Don’t be stupid, dear, go after her.

He kisses his hand and presses it against the warming stone. “I love you.” He gets up, not bothering to dust off his knees and all but sprints back out to the sidewalk. Luke jogs down the road and turns the corner, smiling when he sees you walking peacefully down the street.

“Hey!” Luke yells, picking up to a run. You turn, and stop walking, looking surprised that Luke is running after you.  

“Let me, um, buy you lunch.” he says breathlessly.  “Figure I owe you one, since I’ve been stealing your flowers for months.“

You smile and nod.  “Yeah, I guess that's only fair.”

You talk as you walk to your pick of a restaurant, and Luke feels lighter than he has in months.

…

You walk back to your place, and you make Luke promise to close his eyes as you grab the spare key. Luke thinks that it’s painfully adorable.

“Wanna come in?” you ask, looking down at your feet as you say it. Luke’s cheeks go hot at that, being suddenly floored by how pretty you really are.

“I-” Luke starts, before checking his watch. “Really need to be heading home.” He tries not to let the way your face falls hurt his feelings too bad. “I have work in like, an hour, so.” he explains, and you nod.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Maybe another time.” you say, eyes wide and hopeful.

Luke grins. “Definitely. I’ll call you–or you’ll see me in your garden, either one.” He throws in a wink and leans in to peck your cheek before turning and walking down the street to his car.  At the corner he turns and finds you still standing in your doorway.

…

It was not a good day. Luke has been avoiding sleep because every time he closes his eyes at night,  he can’t stop picturing the time he showed his mom how he could climb the tree in the backyard. He fell on the second branch and skinned his shin and elbow. She patched him up and bought him ice cream, and then they watched movies until Luke fell asleep against her on the couch.

He sighs and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He’d stopped crying about an hour ago, now he’s just staring at his ceiling with his eyes burning. It’s four thirty. Sleep is definitely out of the picture, so Luke grabs his keys and does the only thing he can think of.

He picks seven roses on his way, hops the fence, and finds he can still cry, forehead pressed against cold stone.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there for, but when he opens his eyes, the sky is more grey than black. “Fuck.” He curses and rubs at his stinging eyes. “Sorry for swearing,” He whispers, laughing a bit. “I’ll be back soon, I love you.”

He stands.  It’s about to be five in the morning, and Luke really can’t see himself driving all the way back home. He doesn’t quite know what to do as he walks back, but then he sees the garden, and finds himself knocking on the door.

It takes a few, but you open the door, hair a mess, grey sweats hanging low on your hips. “Luke,” You say, surprised. “What are you doing here?” you ask softly.

“Couldn’t sleep. Needed some flowers.” he mumbles, blinking a few times to try and get rid of the blurriness creeping across his eyes. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” you say without missing a beat, and Luke sighs, relieved. He toes off his sneakers at the door and lets you lead him through the house.  He can tell that you want to ask, but don’t.

In fact, you don’t say anything, and Luke finds that oddly comforting, you just sit next to Luke on the couch and keep your hands curled in your lap.  

“I took some roses again this morning,” Luke admits.

“What color?” is all you respond with.

“The white.”

“That’s the best kind,” you assure him. You can keep helping yourself to those.” you say, leaning over and poking into Luke’s side. “Think of it as my gift to your mom, too.”

That makes Luke tear up a bit.

“I should go,” he says, not wanting to start crying in front of you for a second time.  

“Oh,” you say, sounding almost disappointed.  “Right— okay.”

Luke stands up, his chest feeling tight and his thoughts racing.  But in the midst of the chaos, he hears her voice.  Clear as day; the reason behind his messy, illogical mind. Don’t be stupid, dear, go after her.

Luke turns suddenly then, and takes a step closer to you so he can hold your hands in his own. “Can I take you to breakfast right now?”

You beam at him, dimples drilled into your cheeks as you nod in agreement. You hurriedly find a pair of shoes and a jacket, stopping at the door to lock it before following Luke out. You walk to his car hand in hand, and it all feels so right.

They get pancakes, and Luke kisses the whip cream off your lips. People give you looks as you laugh obnoxiously and fond over one another. Luke doesn’t care.

He wakes up the next morning in a bed that isn’t his own and to the smell of bacon. He smiles to himself. “I thought I was making you breakfast?” he asks, laughing a little when he sees you  standing in front of the stove.

“Maybe if you had woken up before me,.” you say, looking over your shoulder and smiling at Luke.

You sit down to eat breakfast on the couch, a blanket pulled over both of you, and it’s home.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Bragger - Dean x fem!reader

Suggested by @rileynicole1967 based on the song Bragger by Kelsea Ballerini. I am definitely not putting off writing Little Mermaid AU. 

I guess spoilers for season 12 but not, ya know?

----

“Wait, remind me what the story is again?” Dean asked (Y/N). They were both making their way through the little suburban neighborhood that (Y/N)’s parents lived in. 

“Okay. So, you know how I dropped out of college and started hunting with you and Sam?”

“I do.” 

“Great. My parents don’t know that. Meaning, as far as they know, I am a fancy pants lawyer who has been so busy that I haven’t been able to visit them.” 

“Right.” He nodded, “Then... what’s my story?” 

“You, my love, are a fireman from Texas who volunteers at a youth shelter.” This story was completely pulled from her behind. The fireman story came from a phone call where a fire was mentioned. (Y/N) didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that Dean was burning a body and just came up with a story that there was a fire in a cemetery. And the youth group was from a slip up where she mentioned Jack and the best story was that they found him in an abandoned house and Dean took him under his wing. 

“Ahuh.” He looked over the house numbers on the mail boxes, “I’ll try my best to remember.” 

“Are you nervous?” She asked, seeing how his leg was shaking. 

“Me? Nervous?” He chuckled, but his smile dropped when he saw the serious look on her face, “Uh, yeah, I am.” 

“Well, put on a brave face. Dad can smell fear.” She said through a grin as they pulled into the house where her mother and father were already outside waiting. They exited the car and Dean watched his girlfriend and her mother embrace.

"Oh there's my little girl! We missed you so so much!" Her mother gushed.

"I missed you too, mom." They pulled away and she embraced her father.

Dean watched the family, his hands wringing nervously in his pockets. But he kept a small smile on his face. He was happy to meet her family. After all they had been through, they needed the normal. It gave Sam some time alone with Eileen the big guy needed it.

(Y/N) turned back and waved Dean forward. He came up besides her, taking his hands from his pockets.

"And this is Dean. Dean, this is mom and dad." She smiled.

Dean grinned, "Pleasure to meet you both." He said with a slight twang, seems like he's living out a western fantasy since he's "from Texas". He shook her father's hand, he held it out to her mother. But seems like mom was a hugger because she pushed his hand aside lightly and pulled him down into a hug.

"Oh we know all about you, Dean." She said into his shoulder. Dean chuckled and gave her a couple pats on the back before stepping out of the hug, "Good things I hope."

"Of course." Her mother said, "He's even more handsome than you described, Sweetie."

"Mother." (Y/N) said between her teeth.

“What? I just said he was handsome.” Mom waved off her daughter’s embarrassment.

“Let’s head inside! I’m sure the drive from Kansas was a doozy.” Mom and dad led the way towards the house. 

“You didn’t tell me your mom was June Cleaver.” Dean whispered to (Y/N) out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Yeah just wait until she gets a couple drinks in her.” (Y/N) said through a smile. 

- 

All was going well until it came to dinner. They all sat around the hardwood kitchen table, eating the meal that mom had prepared. It was going pretty well until Dad spoke up. 

“So Dean, tell us about the station.” 

Dean looked up from his meal and finished chewing his food, taking this time to make something up, “Uh, yeah so there’s about ten people in the crew. Not a lot of fires for the small town."

"Not making a lot of income then. Looks like (Y/N)'s the bread winner." Dad said as he took a drink. Mom, sensing the tension, slowly slipped away from to the kitchen. Dean's jaw clenched in it's special way. (Y/N) placed a hand on his knee under the table.

"Dad, it's not about the money. Dean is saving lives. Risking his life." She defended him.

"And that's admirable, sweetie. But I just don't want you to work yourself to death." At dad's words, Dean's leg began to shake but his face didn't change.

"Dad, I'm a lawyer," She lied, "I'm always going to be working myself to death."

"I make sure your daughter is taken care of, sir." Dean said. 

“Coulda fooled me.” Dad said under his breath. 

“Dad!” (Y/N) barked sharply. 

Just then, with her impeccable timing, Mom returned with a salad bowl in her hands, “I made a salad with craisins!” Dean, ignoring the salad, abruptly got up from the table, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and started walking towards the door as he shrugged it on. 

“Dean!” (Y/N) and her mother followed him, she was still holding the craisin salad. 

“Baby,” Dean stopped as he was half way through the door, “I just need a minute.” He left, slamming the door behind him. 

- 

Deciding she also needed a minute, (Y/N) made her way up tp her old bedroom much to the protests of her mother and her father telling her that she needed to move home if she “can’t find a man who can take a little criticism”. What he called criticism, she called blatant disrespect. Even though he wasn’t an actual firefighter, why would her dad talk to him like that? It was totally unlike him. 

To his credit, maybe he was really angry at her for not visiting since she “graduated”, but that was no reason to be so rude to Dean. 

A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. 

“Go away.” 

“I brought cookies.” That was mom's go-to I'm sorry dish. Did it make up for everything? No, but it certainly helped to have warm chocolate chip cookies.

"Come in." At her words, the door opened with mom in the doorway and a plate of cookies in her hands.

"Hi sweetie."

"What is his problem?" She asked, sitting up on her bed. Mom sighed and sat besides her, setting the plate of cookies between then.

"I'm not sure, honey. I think it's a combination of you not visiting more. And I think he believes that Dean isn't good enough for you."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, "Good enough? Dean is the best think that's ever happened to me." She took a cookie and munched on it.

"I have never said anything bad about him. I can't help but flaunt him."

"I understand why you would." Mom said around a cookie.

"All that matters is that he loves me."

"Love doesn't pay the bills." The both looked up and saw Dad in the doorway, apparently listening to the conversation.

"You know what? I know you don't like him. Because he's not from around here, but he gets along with everyone. I'm gonna be honest, you can say whatever you want about my happily ever after because at the end of the day, he's mine. And I'm his. I've got his nights and his name."

"His name? You got married to him?!" Dad's voice rose.

"Yeah, I did. (Y/N) Winchester. Because I love him! If he were a wine, he'd be top shelf. If he were a house, he'd be the one at the end of the block. You see some washed up shmuck. But he's mine and I'll be damned if I listen to you anymore. As long as I live, I'll never come back here." (Y/N) shoved her way passed him and down the stairs, mom and dad behind her.

"Sweetie, please, wait." Her mom called.

(Y/N) was stopped at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the three men in the living room.

"Well lookie here, the whole family is here for dinner." The man in the middle say. He was a greasy looking man, her hair pulled back in a low pony tail, clad in biker gear. The two others besides him, bared their sharp, toothy grins.

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

Read part 2 here!

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[sophialikesthings]

Death Of Me Chapter 2.1

17 years of wondering why...

Song: Nothing But The Love - Wrabel

A couple days later.

"I am so sorry for not being able to come, I feel awful. I just can't miss this." I was talking to JJ on the phone. "Where is my earring!" I groaned.

"No clue princess."

"Oh great, a new nickname!" I laughed.

"I'll meet up with you tomorrow morning, I promise." I smiled ending the call.

"Ready?" My mom asked putting her wool shawl over her shoulders.

===

"Hey, You took my advice." I noticed Rafes hair.

He just hugged me as tight as he could, as if he was given a choice, he would choose to not let go.

"I know today is hard for you." I could feel him cry.

Seeing Rafe so vulnerable made me melt, even though I hated the reason we were here my mind only worried about one thing right now, Him. I loved him so much it physically hurt. As if It hurt because I loved him.

"Can you stand by me? During the service?" He asked.

"Of course." I held his face in my hands, looking into his gentle eyes.

During the whole time we were at the cemetery, Rafe had his arms around me, as if I was the only thing that could take away the pain.

===

We headed back to the house to unwind.

"Rafe?" I came out of his bathroom after taking off my jewelry, except my ring that he gave me.

I found him on the balcony looking at the sunset. Suddenly Pope and Kiara pop up.

"MURDERS!" Kiara yelled.

"Hey, Lets go inside." I got his attention.

I looked behind me to see pope carrying Kiara away.

Rafe sat on his bed just staring at his floor.

"Hey, You were protecting the ones you love." I hugged him sitting down on his lap.

"I love you." He fell backwards, taking me with him.

"Say we got married? What would our life be like?" I looked at him, a smile appeared on his face.

"I dunno? You tell me?" We turned to face each other.

"We would inherit my grandfather's house, the one on the hill, we would have a dog, a yellow lab." I smiled

"Of course!"

"Three kids, twin boys, RJ and Reed. And a little girl, Remi." I was feeling butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.

"Why those names?"

"Well, Reed is my grandma's maiden name, RJ is for Rafe junior, and Remi is our names combined." I smiled at him

"You still wanna marry me?" He asked

I got up and grabbed two of his rings off of his dresser

"For better or for worse." I slipped one on his ring finger

"For better or for worse." He slipped his pinky ring on my finger.

"I now pronounce by the state of North Carolina, unofficially, Mr and Mrs Cameron." He chuckled.

We just fell asleep, all the problems in the world melted away.

===

"Morning!" I moved my hair to behind my ear while I sat down next to Topper, who was at a table with Kelce and Taylor.

"At least John B got what was coming to him, and it saved him the expense of the trial." Taylor continued her conversation.

"Taylor!" I yelled.

"I'm just saying John B's going to hell for what he did to Sheriff Peterkin." She defended herself, while JJ poured me water.

"They are still investigating." Topper chimed in.

"What is it with you two? Defending a murder?" Kelce was on Taylor's side.

I could see JJ become angry. but before I could stop him, he snapped.

"Shut up!"

"J-"

"Shut Up, Demi!"

I Don't think we were talking to you, Pogue." Kelce only added fuel to the fire.

"Can I have everybody's attention, Please? I have a little announcement to make!" JJ tapped a knife to a plastic cup.

"My best friend, John B, did not kill Sheriff Peterkin! Rafe Cameron killed and shot the sheriff in cold blood!"

"Demi, are you really gonna let him insult Rafe like that?" Taylor asked.

"Is that so hard for you to believe?

"It is actually hard for me to believe because it's always the... the kook's fault, It's never the pogues fault." Kelce stood up.

JJ dumped water on kelce and they started fighting.

"Stop!" I yelled as Topper held JJ back.

"Yeah, I know Raz. I know." JJ sighed taking off his aperon.

"My God Taylor! What has gotten into you?" I ran off.

===

"Hey!" I ran after him, managing to grab his shoulder.

"Go away Demi! Go back to your Kook Life with your kook money and all your kook friends." I kept walking to his bike.

"JJ MAYBANK LOOK AT ME! DAMN IT!" I ran in front of his bike before he could go anywhere.

"I don't want this life! I want You!" I was barely able to let out the last word before he rode away

"I love you." I said to myself as I watched him leave

===

How School works in the outer banks is funny, You have the elementary building, Junior High Building, Then your Highschool building, once a unified school where status didn't matter. up until 1978. In 1979 instead of building another school, the city decided to split the school into two wings, The East wing has all the Pogues in their free time , West wing has all the Kooks 'AKA Kook Academy' where we hang out, We all have our spaces. for instance, Courtyard is where the Pogues eat, cafeteria is for the Kooks. Except The library, That has to be shared. As well as most of the core four classes (Math, History, Science, English.) but electives the kooks have their classes separately from the pogues.

===

"Does any one know what the immigration act of 1924 most directly reflect? Mr.Maybank?" The teacher asked.

"It means...immigrants were welcome but not all of them?" JJ questioned.

"I think what he means is The Immigration Act of 1924 produced highly discriminatory results because it set a max on how many immigrants could come to the US depending on what country they came from. " I helped JJ.

Suddenly all four of our phones went off at the same time, causing us to look at each other confused.

Incoming Text Unknown Number

"You get this" I showed my phone to JJ who was behind me.

We all exchanged glances while we opened out phones.

"Fuck off."I looked at the photo forgetting where I was.

"Ms. Thornton!"

"Sorry! I know my bad! on that thought, I have to go teach my fish how to... skateboard!"I ran out of class.

"I have to help her." I heard Kiara got up.

"Me too." JJ followed.

"I as well." Pope shut the door.

We all ran out to the courtyard and stared at our phones in disbelief

Kie:WTF is this you???

Unknown: Is JJ there?

JJ: I'm here Bree

Unknown: Did you pimp my short board?

"It's him." I laughed jumping up

JJ picked me up and spun me around squeezing me.

"Sorry." He got himself together.

"I'll text you later, I have a plan but I need to go talk to Rafe." I sighed.

"Yeah, I noticed your ring yesterday." JJ pointed to his ring which was still on my finger.

"Oh, That. It was an emotional mistake, I-"

"It's fine, I know you can't just automatically stop loving someone." JJ held my hand before running back to class.

===

I feel like I have two sides

Demetria Jane- The Kook Queen everybody praises for being so 'perfect' The one who pleases everyone, and trashes the pogues so she doesn't look suspicious.

Demi- The real me, the one who loves surfing and getting high while you walk through the forest, the one who enjoys hanging out with the pogues and fell for one.

"While they get to run around, say any goddamn thing they want about me, about my family." Ward was angry at my dad.

"Hi Dad." I walked past him.

"Why aren't you in school?"

"Why aren't you arresting the people who did this to the Cameron's Estate?" Demetria came out.

"Well I'm not getting an answer from you, am I?" He sighed.

"No sir." I walked inside the gates.

I saw Rafe on their lawn and my heart skipped a beat

I dropped my bag on the lawn and jumped into his arms as he spun me around.

"I missed you." He let me down kissing me.

Ward came past us stomping into the house.

"Do you think he'll close the case?" Rafe asked.

"I don't know?"

"Well is he going to at least bag those pogues for vandalizing the house?"

"I don't know,Rafe! What do you want from me? I don't know!"

"You know what I think we should do?" Rafe sighed.

"No. What should we do? Tell me, please." Ward yelled.

"I-I think we should kill them all." Rafe said quietly.

"Oh, Uh- I don't know about that." I laughed nervously, trying to end the conversation.

"I'll talk to him Mr. Cameron, I promise my dad will come around." I picked up my backpack and led Rafe inside

===

"How are you feeling? About this whole situation?" I asked Rafe as I set down my backpack.

"Nervous, My dad gave the pilot the gun and told him to dump it, lets just hope he did." Rafe sighed, falling back on his bed.

"Really?" I looked at him, knowing I just caught useful information.

He continued to tell me all about the elaborate things his dad has done to keep their name clear.

"I'm just confused as to why your dad is still looking into us, because isn't the whole reason we are together to get him to back off." "That's my cue to leave." I got upset.

"Demi, no I- I didn't mean it like that." Rafe apologized.

"No, because that is exactly what you meant, I'm not a motive, I am a person who loves you despite all the stupid shit you've done." I grabbed my stuff, set his ring back on his dresser, and left.

===

"So we going to the Bahamas or what?" JJ asked as I sat down next to Kiara.

"There is no way we're going to the Bahamas." Pope brought JJ back into reality.

"John B will get nabbed sooner or later." I sighed looking at an ambitious JJ.

"Exactly, so if we're gonna clear his name, we need to have done it yesterday." Kiara agreed to what I was saying.

"I'll tell you how we do it." JJ straightened up, excited to share his 'Big Idea'

"Oh God."

"SO you have it all planned out?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. We kidnap Rafe."

"I'm sorry, What?" Pope questioned JJ.

"We kidnap Rafe, tie him up and stick a gun in his mouth, and just wait till he starts squawking." JJ repeated his plan in more detail. "Okay, I'm partially listening." I said.

"Really? Out of all of us, I'd think you would have objected the most." he was surprised.

"We are in a rough patch right now." I sighed. "Said our relationship was a motive."

"JJ, you know, tortures' a war crime." Kiara looked at him, as if there was nothing in his head.

"True, So how exactly do you plan on clearing John B's name from a prison cell? Because that's a felony " I asked.

"I thought you were with me!" JJ gasped at my 'betrayal'

"Yeah, but then I realized I had common sense."

"All right, well, what do you got, Demetria I was just trying to keep it simple. You know, one stop and we're done." He asked, sitting down next to me.

"Please don't call me that, It reminds me I'm a kook." I groaned.

"All we need is a material witness, we saw Ward's plane fly over our heads, with the gold inside of it. Somebody else was there." Pope said.

"The Pilot! Rafe said Ward handed the gun to the pilot to drop in the ocean. What if he still has the gun Rafe used to Shoot peterkin?" I blurted.

"This is why we need you on the team!" Kiara high fived me.

"We just have to find him,and get them to confess on record." I continued my thought.

"How do we do that?" Pope asked.

"A light espionage?"

"A little ghost recon." JJ put his cap back on.

"Woogity, woogity?" Pope asked. We all tapped each other's fingers together.

===

"If this guy flew planes for Ward, he's gotta be pretty tight-lipped." Kiara drove, Pope next to him, I was in the back with JJ.

"So the direct approach gets my vote." JJ cocked his gun. "What are you doing?" I took the gun from him, shoving it back down into his bag.

"JJ, No." Pope turned around.

"What if we tickle the wire?" Pope suggested a safer plan.

"What?"

"We tickle the wire. We plant my phone in his car, and then we listen in on Demi's Airpods."

"Uh, That's his house." I pointed to a one story house with teal shutters.

"Honk or, uh ... yell if you see anything suspicious." Pope got out of the car.

"Don't do anything dangerous." Kiara asked.

"Come on, I'm not JJ."

I bursted out laughing at the insult Pope threw.

"Funny Pope. I love third wheeling. It's my favorite thing."

"Now I'm Third wheeling." Kiara turned to us.

"What?" I acted confused.

"It's obvious you like each other."

"No, no, no. Don't turn this around on us." JJ avoided the topic."How's it been going, you know with pope and all?"

"In the bedroom, is he like, kinda freaky, 'cause it's Pope, you know?" JJ tried to stop the awkward tension even more.

"JJ!" I groaned. "Leave her alone."

"Why are you asking?" Kiara turned to us again.

"I don't know. Just kind of curious. I'm just spitballing here."

"You don't need to spitball, we could just sit in silence." "Ranking wise--"

"Oh, you're still asking."

"Is- is John B better?" JJ threw out, catching both of us off guard.

"WHAT!" Kiara looked disgusted.

Pope ran back to the car, saving Kiara from that awkward interrogation.

"Phase one complete." He buckled his seat belt.

===

"Why does Demi get to tickle?" JJ asked.

"She's the best tickler." Pope answered.

"Should I do an accent?" I stopped their bickering.

"Definitely disguise your voice." Pope advised.

"Like what? Batman?" I did my best impression.

"Batman." They all agreed.

We dialed the number and waited nervously for him to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hello." I said in my deepest voice. I shook my head and just talked normally.

"Hello?" "Is Gavin there?" I continued.

"This is Gavin. Who's this?"

"I know what happened on the tarmac." I cut to the point.

"Um...who's this?"

"It was Rafe Cameron." My breath became shaky, remembering everything that happened. "But you already knew that, and lied about it."

"Okay, who is this?"

"We're gonna prove it."

"Tell me who this is."

"You could have saved her, Gavin, but you didn't. You are not getting away with this." I hung up.

Soon he drove away and called Ward.

"He's calling Ward." I put an airpod in, while Pope had the other.

--

"Can you talk? We need to negotiate."

"What do you mean to renegotiate? Gavin."

"I need to be paid more!"

"You need to stop and think very carefully about what you are going to say here, okay, because I have treated you very well. I can't figure out why I should give you one more penny."

"Ive got something that could put you away for life!"

"What are you talking about? I have the Sheriff on my side because of my son and his daughter."

--

I started crying. I felt like everything was my fault.

--

" I got the gun your son used, I have it, I know you told me to toss it. I know how you work, I kept it."

--

"I can't listen anymore." I handed the airpod back to Pope.

"It's going to be ok, we will get you out of that family's web of lies." JJ took me into his arms.

"We gotta go." We all got out of the car. Running as fast as we can through yards, jumping fences, you name it, we needed to hear what was going on.

"Hey Sean, Hey Tay." I ran past Taylor and her brother in his pool.

"Sean, oh this is where you live you old kook." JJ ran behind me.

"Surf shop!" Pope ran.

"We don't have time to take kie's car." JJ yelled. "It's blocked in there's no way." Kiara agreed.

"My house is right there! We can take my G wagon." I ran unlocking my car, we all piled in and speeded to the place where they were meeting.

Little did we know this would set things into motion quickly

====

Thank you for reading!

Please interact! it lets me know people are reading!

Have a great rest of your day!

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (2/8)

As I mentioned, this is the sequel to Of The Eight Winds. I will be posting the first two chapters today and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also read it on AO3 here. 

Chapter Two

It was decided the best place to go would be the Midwest -- far from family on the coasts. They’d avoid the biggest cities -- Chicago, Detroit -- but still stick to denser populations; mid-sized cities on the edge of farmland -- it would give them the ability to lose tails in the chaos of town or hit the road quickly and disappear into the woods. A college town where no one would think anything of a new family moving in at the beginning of a semester. It was early May and the summer semester would begin soon at many universities. Frohike said he had a trustworthy contact nearby, so they settled on Lansing, Michigan.

The inheritance from Mulder’s father’s estate would keep them afloat for as long as they needed. Now they just needed to tell the kids.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Frohike handed him a shoebox. Mulder opened it to find new IDs for the whole family. They were now the McDonald family of Okemos, Michigan. The driver’s licenses looked real, as did the passports. Mulder thumbed through everything slowly.

“How’d you get these so fast?” he asked, looking up.

Frohike shrugged. “Best not to ask.”

Mulder leveled a look at the older man.

“If either of my kids ever come to you for a fake ID, I’m hiring a plane and skywriting your location,” he said.

Langly snorted from his chair.

“This is your new address,” Frohike said, handing Mulder a piece of paper that he threw in the box. “Subleased a furnished house from a professor traveling on sabbatical. Darlene will meet you there at noon on Friday. Don’t be late, she gets cranky.”

“Darlene?” Mulder asked.

“Darlene Frohike,” Byers piped in. “Melvin’s sister.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said, surprised. He pictured Frohike with breasts and long hair and felt one eye start to twitch.

“Go to her if you need help,” Frohike said, “she lives nearby.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said again.

Frohike glared at him.

“They used to run pacifists over the border into Windsor, Canada during ‘Nam,��� Langly helpfully piped up. “She can roll.”

“She can roll?” Mulder asked.

“Her kung-fu’s the best,” Frohike said seriously.

Mulder held up the box of fake documents.

“Family affair, huh?” he said, and Frohike shrugged.

Mulder thumbed through everything one more time before departing the bunker. They’d been generous with Scully’s height and his weight. He could picture his wife’s smirk already.

“Hey, Mulder?” Frohike called out just as he opened the door. Mulder glanced back at the three men. “Be careful.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder called a family meeting as soon as the kids walked in the door that evening. After the news they’d received the last time their parents had sat down with them like this, they both looked at them with trepidation.

“God, you’re not about to tell us Mom’s having twins, are you?” Lily said, plopping down on the couch in the living room. Will lowered himself down next to her, his eyes darting back and forth between his parents. When neither Mulder nor Scully laughed, Lily’s face fell. “What’s going on?” she asked seriously.

Mulder had debated with Scully how honest to be with them. While he thought they were old enough to handle the full truth, neither wanted to scare them. And yet they needed to know the severity of the situation. A parent’s eternal dilemma.

“Our family is in some trouble,” he started, sharing a look with Scully. “And we’re going to need to leave town for a while.”

“When?” Lily asked, “For how long?”

“What kind of trouble?” Will asked.

“There are some people that are after your mom-” Mulder started, and both kids interrupted him quickly.

“What kind of people?” Lily asked, at the same time, Will, whose voice rose almost an octave, said:

“After her for what?”

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. He was perched on the arm of the chair Scully occupied, and she reached out and took his hand.

“I think we need to start from the beginning,” she said. “The very beginning.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and began talking. Starting with the abduction of Samantha Mulder, Scully gave a thorough, yet succinct account of the ins and outs of their current predicament, making the whole outlandish tale sound coherent and almost reasonable. Both kids listened to her raptly and remained calm, and Mulder once again thanked his lucky stars for the woman next to him. For all the tumult they’d experienced through the years, there was no one he’d rather have by his side.

“I have a friend -- some friends -- that have set us up with a new life-” Mulder said, when Scully was finally done talking.

He was interrupted by Lily.

“The friends who you visit at Arlington Cemetery? The ones we’re not supposed to know about? Those friends?”

Mulder looked to Scully who wore a surprised smile.

“I haven’t said a thing, Mulder,” she said, looking to him.

“Lily hid in the trunk of your car once,” said Will.

“Will!” Lily shouted at her brother.

“Lil, is that true?” Scully asked her daughter, concerned. Lily wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m not sure whether to be terrified or impressed,” Mulder said. Then shook his head. Back to the topic at hand. He would worry about that later.  “Anyway, those friends have set us up with a life in the Midwest for a year, probably less. Until the heat is off. Until we’re sure we’re all safe.”

“Where in the Midwest?” Lily said with trepidation.

“Michigan,” Scully said.

“They’ve got good hockey in Michigan,” Will offered, and Mulder wanted to hug the kid for his optimism.

Lily looked pained. “What about school?” she said. “What about UVA?” She was supposed to start college there in the fall.

“Lil, these people are not above using you to get to us. The only safe thing is for you and Will to come with us. It’s not even for a year. You can defer. Just the fall semester,” Mulder said.

Lily fell back against the cushions on the couch. Scully and Mulder shared a look.

“And we have to leave soon,” Scully said, “before graduation.”

Will reached out and put his hand on his sister’s knee, his face all sympathy. To her credit, Lily looked at her little brother and gave him a thankful look, a small uptick of the lips. Will turned back to his parents.

“When do we have to start packing?” he asked.

“Tonight,” Mulder said.

XxX

A day later found Mulder in the attic with Lily and William, going through boxes, taking the few things that they had in storage that they thought they might need. Mulder had grabbed a tent, a few sleeping bags, a kit knife, various useful odds and ends.

Will was over in the corner and had unearthed a box of old pictures and held one up for Mulder’s perusal.

“What’s this one from?” his son asked.

Mulder came over to take a look. It was a glossy 8x10 of him and Scully facing each other, framed in profile, hovering on the edge of a crime scene. He remembered it, now. It had been taken by a federal crime scene tech who’d finished documenting a scene and had needed to finish off the roll of film. Mulder had seen him snapping and had handed the guy a fiver. Two weeks later it arrived in an interoffice envelope, accompanied by three dollars and a post-it that said “keep the change.”

In the photo, Scully was looking up at him, the sun at her back slanting on her autumn hair so that it shone like a halo of spun gold. She was wearing a dark suit, as was her wont, the bulge of her service weapon at her back, one arm out and gesturing at something out of frame. He was struck, as he always seemed to be, by her exquisite beauty; her face was a composition. A work of art. A call to prayer.

“God,” he said, a little awestruck, “look how young we were.”

“Mom used to be really pretty,” Will said, and though he said it kindly, Mulder turned to him slowly.

“I’m sorry, ‘Used to be?’” he said.

Will looked nervously between his father and Lily.

“She’s still pretty?” Will said, more as a question than a statement.

“God damn right,” he said, “Every day I thank my lucky stars that she still deigns to share my bed.”

“Dad, don’t be gross,” from Lily, who at 18 didn’t mind her parent’s displays of affection so long as they weren’t public.

“Gross?” Mulder said, pointing at each of them.  “Gross? You were born of the loins of an ethereal creature of heaven, the both of you. Don’t blaspheme.”

“Says the guy who just said ‘God damn,’” said Lily, cheekily.

Mulder grinned and turned back to the photo.

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were when first your eye I ey’d, such seems your beauty still,” Mulder said, looking at it.

“Which sonnet?” Lily asked.

“104,” he said, and they shared a smile. Another silent moment of admiring the photo and he set it down, turned to his children. “All right,” he said, “pack what you need. Let’s get a move on.”

He added the picture to his own cache.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Something caught Lily’s eye as her father was folding up the old box of photos. The corner of a glossy 5x7 was sticking up from the edge of the box -- in it, she saw her father’s face, smiling, looking extremely young.

She helped him shove it back into the corner of the attic with a scrape of cardboard on plywood and he stood, head still bent down in the cramped space so as not to crack his skull on the slanted beams.

William was already heading back down the rickety ladder onto the landing below them, the hollow sound of his steps on the aluminum like the beat of a drum.

“You okay, Lil?” her father asked, his eyes squinted at her in concern. She was still kneeling by the box.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him, and glanced around the attic, at the memories their family had built up over the years. She hoped they’d be able to revisit them one day. Deep down she was afraid this might be the last time she saw some of these things -- an old box of her brother’s LEGOs, her Raggedy Ann, the doll’s black button eyes fixed and sightless, a wispy cobweb hanging limply off her yarn hair.

“Let’s get out of here, then,” he said, and reached down to help her up.

Before she took it, she reached out and pulled at the glossy photo, sliding it easily out of the box and slipping it surreptitiously into her back pocket as she stood. It crinkled in her jeans as she walked toward the attic ladder with her father behind her, as she moved on toward she knew not what.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully sat in her car with her keys in her hand, staring at the woman’s house, debating whether or not to get out.

She had faith in her husband and all her things in a suitcase, but there was still a small part of her that didn’t quite believe the tale Olivia Kurtzweil had told them. In all their years working together on the X-Files, Mulder had always been the engine, and she had always been the brake -- and the impulse to tap the pedal when faced with the fantastic had never left her, even after more than a decade out of the basement office.

She drummed her nails on the steering wheel once and then made a decision, shoving the keys into the pocket of her coat, double checking that her service weapon was in order, and sliding out of her car and onto the sidewalk. She wanted one last talk with the woman before committing to this drastic course of action.

It hadn’t been easy to find Kurtzweil’s address -- even with the Bureau’s resources at her fingertips. She’d had to call in a favor to a friend with ties to the State Department to get it.

The street Kurtzweil lived on was quiet, just outside of Pentagon City. Parking on the street was by permit only, and there were hardly any cars. The house was a one-story ranch with a long porch, big enough for two rocking chairs, which were tilted at an angle toward each other just-so. The landscaping was impeccable and there weren’t any bugs in the porch lights. Olivia ran a tidy ship that Scully could appreciate.

She hesitated one last time at the door before reaching for the doorbell. She’d debated the merits of coming unannounced and had settled on the element of surprise -- hoping if the woman were lying about anything, unprepped and unrehearsed, Scully might be able to suss out lie from truth.

She heard the bell ring inside the house and waited for muffled footsteps or perhaps the bark of a dog. She was met with silence. She gave it about another ten seconds before ringing the bell again. When there was still no answer, she walked over to the garage and stood on tiptoes to peer through the window. There was a BMW parked inside. Scully made her way back to the door, and reached up to give it a knock. When her knuckles hit the wood the door gave an inch and suddenly feeling unsettled, Scully pushed it slowly the rest of the way open.

Just inside the door there was a purse laying on its side and a cascade of unopened mail fanned out on the floor. A chill ran up Scully’s spine and she reached for her sidearm, suddenly glad she’d brought it.

“Olivia?” she called tentatively, before taking a step inside, the gun held out in front of her, listening sharply for any hint of sound. None came.

She swept the perimeter of the entryway, all her senses on high alert. Hearing nothing, she called out Olivia’s name again. Still silence.

She turned the corner into the main part of the living area -- an open concept living room, dining room, kitchen, and nothing looked out of place. She edged her way slowly into the kitchen, and that’s when she saw it; two feet sticking out behind a large island in the kitchen.

Scully darted forward and slid to her knees next to the woman, quickly taking in what she saw before her: Olivia Kurtzweil had been shot, a double-tap to the head and one to the heart--a professional kill. Knowing she wouldn’t find it, Scully reached out to feel for a pulse in the woman’s neck. Her body was still warm.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder stood in the elevator, his finger hovering over the ‘12.’ It was one of the newer office buildings outside the district, a high rise of dark glass and steel. He thought maybe he should have called first, but hadn’t wanted to risk it. Finally, he depressed the button and the elevator lurched to life.

On the twelfth floor, the doors opened to a brightly lit lobby, the walls and floor all stark white granite. There was a sleek reception desk ahead, manned by an even sleeker looking young blond woman, who looked at him expectantly as he approached.

“Hello,” she smiled, not showing teeth, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Lauren Williams,” he hedged, and the woman’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.

“No,” he said, and started to wonder if he should have come at all.

“Okay,” the woman said slowly, narrowing her eyes, “I can call her assistant and ask if she can see you. Your name?”

Mulder felt like a bug under a microscope.

“Tell her it’s Fox,” he said.

She nodded.

“One moment.”

Mulder glanced at his watch. They were supposed to be on the road in four hours. This was a last minute stop for him, a barely thought-out ‘what if’ plan C in case the whole thing went to shit.

When he glanced back up, the receptionist was looking at him expectantly.

“She’ll be out in a moment,” she said, and Mulder smiled his thanks and took a few awkward steps back.

There was a small waiting area to the left of reception, but the seats looked more modern than comfortable, and the entire space had a disinfected don’t-sit-here vibe to it. Set dressing.

After a moment he heard the efficient clicks of approaching heels, and turned to see his ex-wife coming out of a metal door that he’d thought was a wall.

“Fox?” she said, her face one of pleased surprise.

“Lauren,” he said, as she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this. You look well.”

She did. She was in a crisp grey suit that was likely Chanel or Hermes, and trim as ever. Her face looked sculpted and her skin clear and bright. Not a wrinkle to be found. A mild cloud of the same perfume she always wore clung to her, lending her an air of sophistication where it may have made other women seem like they were trying too hard. She leaned back, holding onto one of his forearms and gave him an assessing look.

“You look… worried,” she finally said, her eyes narrowing a bit in concern.

He didn’t reply, and she turned to the receptionist.

“Thank you, Amanda,” she said smartly and inclined her head toward the metal door/wall which clicked open as they approached it.

She led him down a long hallway, with glass conference rooms lining one side and open concept work stations along the other. At the far end, she opened a floor-to-ceiling glass door and led him into a large and immaculate corner office.

Mulder raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he said, “it’s been a while.” She shut the door behind them and gestured to a small sitting area off to the side of the office. It was more welcoming than the lobby seating had been, and he slid into one of the chairs gratefully.

“Executive Vice President,” she said proudly, and took the chair opposite him. She settled into the leather of the seat and leveled a look at him. “You okay, Fox?”

Mulder glanced at the door, at the bustle of the office beyond it. No one seemed to pay them any mind.

“I’m…” he started, “we’re in some trouble.”

“You and Scully?” Lauren asked kindly, “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Mulder smiled, “she’s good, she’s…”

He fumbled a bit. Not quite sure where to start.

“Is it money?” Lauren asked. “Do you need-”

Mulder cut her off, laughing uncomfortably. He and Scully both made a very good living, and his father’s estate would have kept them more than afloat even if they didn’t. He huffed a deep sigh, and she sat quiet and patient, looking at him in concern.

“Our family is in danger, Lauren,” he finally said, “and we need to disappear for a little while.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Is it Scully’s work at the FBI?” she started, “Is it-”

He once again cut her off.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you much for your own protection. The less you know, the better.”

She nodded, her brow furrowed with concern.

“The reason I’m here is… we’re going away for a while. Headed to the Midwest.” She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “Do you… does your aunt still have that hunting camp up in Michigan?”

He saw a small smile crack through her unease. Lauren’s Aunt Clio was half Williams Family Secret, half Williams Family Legend. A bright, effusive personality, she was blustery and smart, and unpretentious to the point of embarrassment, as far as Lauren and her upper-crust-endeavoring parents were concerned. She lived in Ohio, where she and Lauren’s father had been raised, ten years the man’s senior. She kept a hunting camp in the eastern Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Camp Hi Early. She hunted deer throughout the state’s archery season and had told a story at Mulder and Lauren’s wedding reception about running at a bear with an axe from the outhouse. The story had mortified Lauren at the time -- Mulder had just been delighted. Aunt Clio had been drinking straight whiskey at the party, and had just been about to tell Mulder a story of running ‘shine when Lauren had pulled him away and to the dance floor. Mulder had never forgotten it, or her.

“Aunt Cli died last year,” she said with a begrudging smile. Mulder marveled. The woman must have been close to a hundred years old. Lauren’s eyes met his. “But she left me the camp.”

“You still have it?” Mulder asked, amazed, “it doesn’t seem like your kind of… scene.”

Lauren laughed.

“That it’s not. But there’s a mining company that has its eyes on the northern 100 acres, and if they get their hands on it whether from me or from someone I might sell to, Clio Williams will haunt me from the grave.”

Mulder laughed, felt something loosen in his chest.

“If you need it, it’s yours, Fox,” Lauren said, the humor dissipating from her voice.

He leaned back in the chair.

“We probably won’t need it,” he said, “it’s just something I thought of as a distant Plan C. But if we need to get out fast -- if we need to go somewhere we can’t be found…”

Lauren nodded and stood, moved over to her desk.

“It’s rustic, Fox,” she said, and sat down in the chair, pulling open a desk drawer. “And not charming-rustic. It’s rustic-rustic. And likely in disrepair. I sent a local handyman out there this past spring. He assured me that the roof doesn’t leak and the windows aren’t broken, but that’s about it.” She was rifling distractedly though the drawer. “I’m not sure how well outfitted it is, and It’s probably overrun with mice and squirrels. He said it looked like a moose had been gnawing on the siding…”

“It’ll be a last resort,” he said seriously.

Lauren paused and looked at him.

“Bad?” she asked.

“Pretty bad,” he nodded.

She winced and stood, an envelope in her hand. She made her way over to him and raised it.

“This is the key to the padlock on the cabin door,” she said, “and a map to the camp. The handyman I hired drew it up for me, not the other way around, mind you. I haven’t been out there since I was a kid and Aunt Cli took me up there to teach me to shoot. There’s the boondocks and there’s this. I’m talking county highway to a dirt road to a two-track. A seasonal road that the county doesn’t plow. I don’t even know if an SUV can get in there. The road to Camp may be impassable...” she handed him the envelope.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he said.

Lauren reached out and squeezed his shoulder, the concern on her face cutting rare lines into her perfect skin.

“I want you to check in with me, let me know you’re okay,” she said, “do you feel safe doing that?”

Mulder nodded, put his hand over hers where it rested on her shoulder, squeezed.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m serious, Fox,” she said, “if I call, you answer your fucking phone. I’m scared for you. For the kids and Dana.”

“I promise,” he said, giving her hand one last squeeze before he rose to leave. “I’ll send you a number when I’ve got one.”

His phone rang then, like a premonition. He answered.

“Mulder?” Scully said into his ear, her voice shaky with panic. He heard the slam of a car door. “We have to leave. Now.”