#i just don't understand my parents at all

[fairykukla]

Ok, here's a thought I've been thinking lately.

I'm 50 years old. I've watched, in real time, as Autism diagnosis and public perception has shifted over the years.

So for my Internet kids and grandkids, here's the deal:

Austism used to be a word that was whispered. It was like a death sentence. People with autism were shuffled away into care facilities or, like, still stuck in attics or something. If you knew someone with an autistic person in their life, the socially correct response was pity. "You poor thing, your child is autistic. What a burden. I'm so sorry."

Gradually, awareness started to happen. We got Rainman and Bill For Short. We also started to see diagnosis for hyperactivity, or ADHD, but those were kids (and mostly boys) who were disruptive, and were given heavy medications to calm them down.

But these were still situations where pity is given to the caregivers, and the people with autism or ADD were still stuck with "Be traumatized/medicated into masking disruptive behavior" or "Shuffled away into special schools/cate facilities."

Then we started to see more awareness. People in the spectrum started to speak up and speak out. There was still lots of stigma, but now it was more like, "Oh, your kid has Autism, but it's not AUTISM-autism, it's just Asperger's? Well thank God. You poor thing."

These stigmas are still in play. People still react with pity for caregivers and scorn for people on the spectrum.

Despite better and better understanding of autism, despite more and better language to discuss it, despite all the awareness being raised, that stigma is still around, baked into our culture.

This is part of the cognitive dissonance around "Hey, fellow adult friend? Do you think that I could be ... Autistic?" And they look worried, or cringe when you say, "Yeah, I could see that."

That person is fearful. They're shocked. They may be wrestling with The Horrors about it. For many of us who have worked out on our own that we are neurodivergent, whether through formal diagnosis or having the "Ah-Ha!" Moment with a self diagnostic tool, it can seem weird that someone is freaking out when they're faced with a similar situation.

Listen. I was a Weird Kid(tm). I was having SEVERE issues in school despite my high IQ and having two teachers as parents. In 1981 or so, the answer was that I had an "unspecified childhood neurosis" and a general anxiety disorder, that would later get the moniker "School Anxiety." I was not given meds, but I was given 5 years of talk therapy with a child psychiatrist.

As an adult, after a few years of thinking that I fit the profile for ADHD, my mom gave me all my paperwork from my childhood. (Immunizations, school records, and the like.) In that paperwork I found my evaluations from the early 80s. I had criteria I didn't even know about, and let me tell you; I'm in the AUDHD spectrum somewhere. My youngest cousin got her diagnosis early, but she was born when I was 33.

And then my father got his. My brother came to me in horrified shock. "Kukla, did you know that our father has autism?!?"

And I laughed. "Uh, yeah. Didn't you figure out that half the rules in our house growing up were to manage his sensory issues? Isn't it his dream to go disappear into the woods somewhere? Weren't you the one who calls it "Socializing with Papa" when you do tasks in the same space without talking to each other for a few hours? BRO HES A MATH TEACHER WHO BOUGHT A HOUSE NEXT TO A TRAIN TRACK AND COLLECTS MAPS."

But. I was the one who had five years of really excellent therapy to come to terms with being a weird kid. To take power from my weirdness, to use it as both sword and shield. To defeat the rejection sensitivity dysphoria, or at least mitigate its effects. (Now I just come across as an arrogant know it all. And I'm comfortable with that.) I live on the island of misfit toys, and they made me their goddess. Most of the people who are close to me are not neurotypical, and I don't just mean "the spectrum."

My brother is probably neurotypical... Apart from the dyslexia. He Plays The Sports. He does Bro things. His inner circle of friends and found family are "mundanes." He doesn't talk to autistic people everyday, or *thinks* that he doesn't talk to autistic people every day. So, for him, he found out that our father got diagnosed with Autism and freaked the fuck out.

So I say unto my fellow Tumblr gremlins, goblins, racoons, and misfit toys: be gentle with the newbies. If you see someone struggling about it just be nice to them.

They're expecting pity. Or scorn.

Don't give it to them.

Dance around and naruto-run and invite them to play, too. Teach them how to find their happy stim.

It is hard. But we can also be joyful. And we should.

[cherryyluvs]

Can you write some smut of mark?🫣 Totally understand if you ignore this. Love your fanfics 🥹

Yes ma’am🫡

Don't Wake Up My Parents

You're staying over at Mark’s house. He sneaks into the room late at night and things get… risky ◝(๑>𐃷•́๑)◜

You were staying over at Mark’s house, sleeping in his bed while he crashed on the floor in a different room. This was supposed to be innocent right? Just friends having a sleepover and all that. But it was midnight and yet here you are laying in bed wide awake, hearing the soft hum of the ceiling fan doing nothing to calm the heat building up in your body.

You moved under the blanket, the fabric of Mark's shirt brushed against your bare thighs. You had stolen it earlier to sleep in, it smelled just like him.. clean and a little sweet. You bit your lip, rubbing your legs together as you felt something in between your legs.

Your heart raced as you heard soft footsteps approaching the bedroom door. The door creaked open, you quickly sat up. Heart pounding in the dark.

“Mark?” He didn’t answer but you could hear him. The soft sound of his footsteps padding across the carpet. “you awake?" Mark whispered, his voice low and rough with sleep. He took a few more steps closer to the bed. Until you could make out his features in the moonlight filtering through the window. Then the bed dipped beneath his weight as he slid under the covers with you.

"Couldn’t sleep” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of the fan.

“Me neither” He was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and could smell the clean scent of his. His arm brushed against your thigh, you didn't even notice how high his shirt had ridden up, peeking at his abs. Until his fingers intertwined with yours, his breath hitching. “Mark..” you whispered. Feeling butterflies in your stomach as he slid closer to you. His face now mere inches from your own.

“You know you shouldn't let me this close.” He whispered, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin. “But you're not stopping me.”

You felt warmth on your cheeks “yea–” before you could say another word he pressed his finger against your lips. “Shh”

“My parents are asleep” your heart raced as his hand went down to your waist, fingertips slowly tracing circles. “You look so good in my shirt” he murmured. His lips were right by your ear, breath hot and shaky. “mark ..”

“Tell me to stop” he whispered, lips trailing down to your neck. You gasped, back arching as he softly sucked at the sensitive skin.

You couldn't and didn't, instead you grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to yours. Mark groaned into the kiss, his body pressing against yours. “Mhmm, you taste so good.” whispering against your mouth as his hands slide down, fingers slipping into the waistband of your panties.

You moaned softly when his finger rubbed your clit, body jolting at the contact. “You have to be quiet, unless you want them to hear” You slowly nodded, legs shaking as he pushed a finger inside you.

His pace was slow and steady, his forehead pressed against yours as he watched you struggle beneath him, “You're so wet for me already” pulling his hand out of your panties. Slowly going up in your shirt, caressing and squeezing your breasts gently, as he grinds his hips against yours, You can feel the hardness though his pajama pants, the heat making your squirm. “Please” You whimpered.

“Please what?” his hand stood still. “Use your words”

“I want you” he smirks, pushing his boxers down just enough, teasing your entrance with the tip. “You sure?

“Yes” Without hesitation he pushes it inside you, slow and deep, stretching you inch by inch until you are gasping into his mouth.

He starts to move, hips rolling in a steady rhythm. Each thrust sending waves of pleasure. Your walls clenching around his throbbing length. “I love the way you feel around me” he moans softly.

You bit your lip, muffling the sounds that threatened to spill out, his hand covering your lips. “You're gonna wake them up” he teased “Is that what you want?”

The thought of Debbie and Nolan walking in on you guys was something you didn't want to think of.

You shook your head frantically. Tears gathering at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. “You sure?” His thrusts slowed “Because you're squeezing me so tight right now”

The bed creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. The slapping of skin on skin, your mingled moans and gasps. “Ungh”

Your back arched as your orgasm tore through you. Mark groaned low. He takes a moment to catch his breath, slowly pulling out his cock, pussy dripping. You can feel the warm thick cum start to leak out and trickle down.

You take a good lock at it, girthy and a white milky ring around the base of his cock.

Staring at each other, giggling as he pulls you into his chest. “Think they heard us?” you whispered breathlessly.

Mark’s lips curled into a lazy satisfied smile. “Guess we'll find out tomorrow.”

[jasminedragonart]

Another little fanfic nitpick. For those of you who need it, I will be putting a reference below for those who are writing about children. This is just from my experience as someone who has a nibling as well as someone who has educated children for a good few years now teaching a wide variety of ages.

So, here is your child chart:

Ages 0-1: Blob. They can barely function without help. They need carried to do the most basic of things. Some of them can walk but not all, and their walking is not without a LOT of hand holding. They can make noises that sound like words, and maybe even say one or two, but they have no idea what those words mean. There is nothing behind their eyes. Will primarily be fed on milk for the first 6 months and then move onto solids once their teeth come in.

Ages 1-2: They can say a few more words. They can recognise those who look after them and say simple things. My nibling knows tractor and cat. They can walk. They will have a fascination with something weird, like their feet and putting and taking off not only their own shoes but other people's. There's a little bit behind their eyes but for the most part they don't know where they are or what is happening around them. They may still be on milk for the first half of their first year but they'll move onto primarily solids and water for most of their diet.

Ages 2-3: They're a little more switched on. They know what behaviours will give them attention and be it good or bad they'll do it. They might be toilet trained but it's all dependent on the parent. They babble. A lot. It's mainly a string of words they'll know but they'll all have different meanings. Shoe could mean, where are my shoes. It could also mean, hello, how are you, I haven't seen you in a while. It's all part of the communication process. They might move onto actual sentences midway through their second year but they will be short and the words extremely simple. They like to run around but their attention spans are still small so they'll lose interest after a while. They will climb out of their cribs and across the baby gates as they've figured it out. My nibling is currently costing my sibling hundreds of pounds because they now have to buy a new toddler bed despite my nibling not necessarily needing one yet. This is because they've figured out how to climb out and the crib is now a safety hazard.

Ages 3-4: They're at a really interesting phase here. They're a lot more independent than they were at 2, which for some is pretty independent, but they also regress a lot. They might not sleep very well, they'll fall down a lot more. This is because they know a lot more and understand a lot more around them. They're actually turning into a little person at 3. On the tail end they'll be a sort of mentor to those younger than them, babies and toddlers fascinating them as they try and understand what's happening around them.

Ages 4-5: Whatever progress they've been making is gone. They now have nothing once more behind their eyes. They are just chaos, turning in circles and licking the floor. As someone who had to teach 4 and 5 year olds, their attention spans are horrific and they will wander off back to their parents to sit on their parent's knee while they glare at you for not understanding that they don't know what left and right are. There will be the odd one or two who find sentience again but this is rare. Sentience is usually not found until age 6. that being said they can communicate a lot better, speaking in bigger sentences. They can also start to learn to write and retain some knowledge imparted on them.

Ages 6: They're back and meaner than ever. They can and will tell you the truth. They will tell on their parents, teachers, friends just because you've told them lying is bad. They are brutally honest and will share their opinion. They will talk for hours on end and call your name seventy times if they think you haven't heard them properly.

Ages 7: They're a fountain of knowledge at this age. They usually have specific hyperfixations and interests that will influence their lives from this point onwards. They'll love getting messy, playing outside and watching cartoons. Their reading level should be fairly decent if they go to a good school and have a good support group around them. This is the best age to get them interested in a sport as they actually have the attention span to enjoy it, maybe even compete in it if they want to join a football club or something. But they are still really young so they will take everything as truth if you tell it to them.

Ages 8: This is one of the last truly childhood years. They're still ignorant of the wider world, and not much truly changes between seven and eight save a lot of friendship building and deeper interest and understanding in their interests.

Ages 9: This is where they start to understand a bit more grown up things. They might be taught about puberty at this age, by that I mean, in my school we had someone come in and warn us about periods. It might seem young, but some girls can get their periods earlier than others and develop earlier than others. They'll understand that girlfriends and boyfriends are a thing and while they'll still thing it's disgusting there will be a deeper understanding that it's something that might happen to them rather than the bliss of years before when pretend weddings were something fun they emulated because they saw it on TV or in their family and wanted a big party like that too.

I might do a separate post for ages 10 and up but this is the basic stages of childhood. So next time you think your five year old in your fic can run away successfully from home just remember, they can't. They are five. There is nothing going on up there except big feelings and big emotions. They will likely cling to their parents and if they do run away, it's literally just around the corner and they will come back inside when it gets cold enough or they want more attention. Your five year old doesn't know left and right never mind can wield a sword. At least make them eight. Dick Grayson was 8 when he became Robin, I feel like that should be the benchmark for every child who is put into a situation. Make them 8 otherwise they don't know what's going on.

If there's more to add, please feel free to. This is, again, just what I've observed from years of working with little kids.

[rosenclaws]

I See the Light || DOFP!Logan x Reader

Summary: Logan saved the future but now he doesn't feel like he fits into the mansion anymore. He doesn't know what he needs but he just knows he needs a break. So Charles sends him on a mission that changes his whole world.

warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), abusive parents (Not descriptive), injury, reader deals with a jerk and logan saves the day, swearing

wc: 6k

a/n: Sooo I might have fucked around and wrote 6k words today. This is my entry for @princessanglophile birthday writing challenge! I was given dofp logan and I see the Light from Tangled. I was so so excited to get this song as its one of my favorite disney songs and I'm so happy that I was able to finally get the story that's been in my head in writing. This fic very very loosely follows the plot of tangled but only in a few ways. I really hope it lives up to the song and I was able to do it justice. Enjoy!!

If there was one word to describe how Logan felt after coming back from 1973. It would be lost. He wouldn't say it himself, in fact he'd insist he was just fine. I mean the plan worked, he went back and he saved everyone. Who wouldn't be thrilled to come back to a peaceful world?

But in doing so Logan sacrificed everything. His friends, his family, they don't remember him.

They only know this timeline version of Logan. So now he's a stranger to them and they're strangers to him. He wakes up and teaches his classes but he doesn't know these students.

He sees Rouge and Bobby and he can't help but think of the timeline where Rogue took the cure and lost all her powers. Seeing Kitty all grown up and teaching the new generation of mutants. Storm being the leader he always knew she could be. And of course. Jean. She was alive in this world and so was Scott. It had been years since he saw them.

He doesn't know how to feel. He's found and lost those closest to him. After all of this, he just needs a break. To find himself and learn to stop fighting. He doesn't have to anymore but the rest of him hasn't caught up with that sentiment.

"Logan, I have a mission for you." Charles has called him into his office. He can sense Logan's unease and despite helping him regain some memory from this timeline he knows that Logan is struggling.

"While this world is not as violent as you remember, there are a few anti mutant sentiments still lingering throughout the country." He hands Logan manilla folder.

"She's been raised her whole life in hiding. Her parents forced her at a young age. You need to find her and bring her back.

"And exactly how am I going to do that? If she's in hiding?" Logan asks, flipping through the little information he's been giving.

"Don't tell me you've lost your touch." Charles says with a smirk. Logan shuts the folder and tosses it back at Charles.

"Give me a week."

"This will be good for you Logan. Be patient with her." Logan nods and turns his back to leave.

"One more thing, Take your time Logan." Charles gives him a look that Logan doesn't quite understand and just nods.

After throwing a few things into a backpack he slings it over his shoulder and silently weaves through the mansion. He sees a few people in the kitchen, laughing over cups of coffee and stories of their students. His heart tugs as he looks away, he has a mission to complete.

He doesn't even say goodbye.

Swiping Scotts keys he hops into one of the many cars in the garage. The only information Charles really had was that she was located across the country.

For days Logan drives through the mountains and plains of America. It's a little weird to be honest. He remembers the world turning to a complete wasteland. Nothing but death and destruction. He never once looked at a field of grass while driving down the interstate and thought anything but how boring the view was. Now things are a little different.

After hopping from shitty motels and diners with sweet waitresses and heart stopping food he finally makes it to where Charles said you were. It's a small beach down on the coast of California. Of all the places to be trapped this isn't the worst he thinks as he parks his car at some motel.

The front desk worker barely paid attention as he handed Logan the keys to his room and a brochure of everything the town had to offer. Which was two restaurants and the beach. Realistically he knows you wouldn't be anywhere in town. Too many people. Probably somewhere on the outskirts of town. He slips into a bar, ordering a glass of whiskey and pokes around. Asking the already drunk locals about the weird parts of town. Any strange people.

After some teeth pulling conversations with a woman who was clearly trying to get in his pants, he manages to get information about this house on top of a hill about five miles out of town. How the kids think it's haunted and only a lone woman lives there. The windows are boarded and a wire fence blocks any trespassers.

Bingo.

Apparently the woman leaves every three days at dawn and doesn't return until night and luckily for him she should be leaving tomorrow morning.

With a cigar in hand Logan stares out at the ocean, he doesn't know what time it is but he knows he can't sleep. His dreams are still plagued with watching his friends die. He just can't shake them off, even if that's not how things are anymore.

At the first sight of light peeking over the horizon he hops into his car and drives towards the lone cabin. He ditches the car about two miles in and walks the rest of the way. The sky is painted pinks and purples as he reaches the small cabin.

He catches two unfamiliar scents as he nears. One makes his eyes water, it's rotten. The other is much sweeter, like fresh flowers and honey. The door opens and Logan jumps behind a tree. The sound of footsteps and a car ring loud in his ears. He moves like an animal as he blends himself in with the foliage.

Once the car is gone he hurries past the fence. Cutting through it with ease and making his way into the cabin. He doesn't see anything as he enters. The lights are turned off and everything seems in order.

"Hello?" He calls into the dark house. His nose twitches as that floral scent invades his nose again. He closes his eyes and his hearing zones in on a heartbeat. It's beating faster and faster.

His eyes snap open and he turns around, grabbing your wrist that was inches above his back. In your hand was a crude excuse for a knife. Your eyes are wide and full of fear, your hands trembling in his grasp.

"There you are kid," Logan plucks the knife from hand with no fight and tosses it onto the counter.

"W-Who are you?" You try and tug your wrist away but he's too strong.

"Logan. Now I'm here to get you out of this place." He expects this, fear or uncertainty is common. But you he's never had someone try and attack him before. He wonders what your powers are.

"No." You say making Logan raise an eyebrow.

"I can't leave. She said they'd hurt me."

"Hurt you?" He lets go of your wrist and you slink back to the corner of the room. He wonders just want your mother has told you. He sighs and sits down on one of the dining room chairs.

The look on his face makes you shiver. He's so. Intense. No smile, no soft words. Like he could careless if you went with him or not.

"Why did they send you?" You ask and Logan just shrugs.

"I'm a people person." He says in a deadpan voice. You don't say anything back and Logan slowly lets his so called "angry" face shift to something else. You're probably scared and he's not great with people but he does want to help.

"Look I don't know what she told you, but I can promise that you don't deserve to be locked up from the world." He says and you lower your head.

"I know you're scared, but I'm just like you." He unsheathes his claws making you jump.

"There's this place, a home for people like us where we can be safe and you can learn to control whatever powers you have." You look down at your hands. Still uncertain about all of this.

Your mother had kept you here your whole life, forcing you to never use your powers. Telling you that the world hates what you are and to be lucky she hasn't fed you to the wolves already. Honestly you don't know why she keeps you around, but its true. You can't protect yourself from whatever is out there.

But this man, Logan. He seems like he's taken care of himself just fine. Not a single scratch on him. Maybe he can protect you too.

Your heart has longed for so much more than whatever this life has been so far. The books you read don't hold a candle to the real thing. Could he really take you to a place that's safe.

"Come with me and if you don't want it, if you don't like it. I'll take you back home." He offers, seeing the swirling emotions in your eyes.

"Promise?" You ask softly.

"Promise." Logan sticks his hand out. You glance down at it. It feels too good to be true but this could be your chance to leave this house, to be yourself. But your mother? Honestly, she'd be happy with you gone. Would she come after you or rejoice that her one problem is gone?

Guess you'll have to find out. You reach out and take Logan's hand, hoping you didn't just make a big mistake.

Logan doesn't waste much time heading back home. He takes you back to the motel and tells you to wait in the car while he packs his stuff and checks you. You've never been in a car before. Of course you knew what they were but being inside one was different.

Curiosity gets the best of you as you open every compartment and press every button you can see. You press something the car makes a noise making you jump. You press it again and again before Logan pulls the door open.

"Hey, quit fucking with the horn." He grumbles as gets into the drivers seat.

"Sorry." You apologize, putting your hands in your lap and looking down at them.

You're silent for a while. Not moving, not speaking a word. Logan keeps sneaking glances at you, guilt slowly building as you don't even look out the window.

When Charles said you were sheltered, he didn't realize you were this sheltered. He thinks back to what Charles said before he left. Patience. He's still working on that one.

"I didn't mean to snap at you." Logan says making you look up at him. Your head tilting in confusion.

"You really never been in a car?" He asks as he turns his attention back to the road.

"No, my parents wouldn't let me. I had to stay inside. I couldn't leave." You say quietly.

"You were pressing on the horn, you don't want to use it often. Only to get someone's attention or when someone's being a jackass." You nod your head, watching the other cars driving.

Suddenly Logan swears as a car cuts too close in front of him. He slams his hand on the horn and swerves around the car. He speeds up, glaring at the driver and throwing up his claws in a threatening manner.

"Like that?" You ask. Logan looks at you and lets out a small laugh.

"Yeah, like that."

He drives a little while longer before stopping for gas. He hands you a twenty and tells you to grab some snacks as he fiddles with the machine. You're too shy to tell him you've never been in a store before so you take the money and head in.

It's like a wonderland of sweets and food. You're mom didn't let you have anything like this. In fact she never even told you about half the things on the shelves. You had read about candy and soda in the books she'd bring you but that was it.

You grab anything you can carry. You're too wrapped up in the overwhelming options that you don't see the man in front of you. You bump into him and send both of your things to the ground. The drink in his hand spilling onto his shirt.

"I'm so sorry!" You squeak as you the man turns around and glares at you.

"Watch where you're fucking going." He snaps making your eyes widen.

You reach down and try to pick up the fallen items but he grabs onto your wrist. This isn't the same as when Logan did it. Logan was firm but gentle while this man was angry.

"You're hurting me." You try tugging yourself free but its no use. The mans grip tightens on your wrist. Suddenly the man is ripped away from you and thrown onto the ground.

"Get the fuck off her!" Logan growls. He stands tall above the man, a pissed off look on his face.

"She ran into me!" The man scrambles to his feet, trying to puff his chest out to stand toe to toe with Logan but it's a feeble attempt.

"Stupid bitch." Logan grabs onto his shirt and slams him into the shelf, uncaring if things fall.

"Listen here bub, you get the fuck out of here and take your cheap gas station coffee with you." Logan lets go of him and grabs the coffee cup.

Slamming it into his chest with force. You watch, afraid to even move as Logan pushes the man out of his way. He scrambles out the door, yelling something that you can't quite understand. Logan turns to you and your eyes start to well with tears.

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to cause all this I-"

"Hey, stop crying." Logan grabs your arms and waits for you to calm down. "It was an accident. That asshole isn't worth crying over alright?" He grabs all he fallen snacks and brings them to the counter.

The poor cashier couldn't even look Logan in the eye as he pays. Too afraid Logan might beat him up too. He hands you the bag of snacks and grabs a few cigars too.

"You really like sugar don't you?" He jokes as he sees the amount of sugary items in the bag.

"I've never had it before." You admit as you dig through the bag and find something small.

Chocolate.

You dreamed of tasting it for the first time. You rip open the wrapper and bite into it. Wolfing it down in seconds. Logan chuckles, seeing the brightness in your eyes as you taste it for the first time.

"Pretty good huh sweetheart." He reaches over and takes your chin in his hand.

You drop whatever's in your hand, a sudden feeling of...you don't what to call it. Your stomach flutters as he wipes some chocolate off the side of your lips. Your heart starts to beat faster when you see him smile, his eyes turning soft. Palms sweaty and for some reason you don't think you can even look at him right now.

He lets go of you and turns back to the road without a second thought, like he didn't just cause this kind of reaction in you. You hug the bag of sweets and stare out at the road. Trying to calm your beating heart.

Night falls and Logan is still driving, he could drive for a while if he had to but he sees you asleep off out of the corner of his eye. He pulls of the highway and into the parking lot of a motel. He leaves you asleep in the passenger seat reluctantly, checking every couple seconds as he books a room.

When he comes back you're still sound asleep. You look so peaceful, a smile on your face and he wonders what you're dreaming about.

Candy wrappers sit on the floor the car but he just leaves them be. He did have to cut you off after about three kit kats, not wanting you to give yourself a stomach ache.

Seeing someone try flavored chips and processed candy for the first time was amusing. Seeing your face light up with each bite. You were just so, optimistic. He doesn't really know how. He expected you to be angry, jaded, afraid and meek from being locked away for so long. But instead you're full of wonder and curiosity.

You almost gave him a heart attack when you saw a cow for the first time. You slammed your hands on the window and you screamed in excitement. Pictures didn't do them justice, they were just too cute. Things that other people take for granted every day, you saw as new and wonderful.

He opens the car door and scoops you up in arms. Trying not to wake you as he makes his way into the room. Placing you on one of the beds.

"Hm?" You mumble as you sit up, the jostling having woken you.

"Sorry, tried not to wake you. We're stopping for the night go back to sleep." Logan whispers, laying a blanket over you.

"Okay..." Logan takes a sharp breath when he sees your wrist. The one that man from earlier had grabbed on to. You paid no mind to it as you roll over on your side, snuggling the warm blanket.

"Hey, we need to get this checked out." He gently grabs your wrist but you shoo him away.

"M'fine, it doesn't hurt." You say but he doesn't budge.

"Still, it looks like a nasty bruise is forming." You bat away his hand and cover your wrist with your other hand. Logan's jaw drops as your hair starts to glow. He scrambles back as the it shines brightly and then slowly fades away. When you move your hand your wrist is completely back to normal. No bruising to be seen.

"What the?" He looks at you in shock.

"My powers, I don't really know why but the hair glow seems to be apart of it." You rest your head back into the pillows.

"Why would your parents ever want you to hide this?" He asks in disbelief, your powers weren't ones of destruction but of healing.

A sad looks appears on your face and he doesn't ask any more questions. He sighs and rests his hand on your shoulder.

"Get some rest, we'll keep going in the morning." Your eyes close and sleep comes quicker than it has in a long time, Logan's presence lulling you into a feeling of safety.

The morning light shines right in your eyes as you wake to the sound of snoring. You groan as you roll over onto your back. As the world comes into focus you expect to find yourself staring at the cold wood ceiling you've woken up to every day of your life. But you don't.

You shoot straight up in bed seeing the motel décor and Logan asleep on his bed. He's sprawled out on his stomach, shirtless. His hair is still somehow in the same shape as it always sits. The gray streak in his hair matches with the slight graying of his beard. You feel that fluttering sensation in your stomach as you look at him. You want to look away but you can't. His face has that grumpy look on it, even in his sleep. You giggle as you see some drool on his pillow. You lay back down on your pillow, turning to face Logan. Is it creepy to watch someone sleep? Probably, but you wouldn't mind if Logan watched you sleep.

The only man you had ever known before was your father. When he left your mother grew bitter and angry. Neither of them liked your mutant powers but your mother really hated them. You never really understood why. You could help so many people but she refused.

She would tell you that people lead to nothing but trouble. That everyone was cruel and selfish. That love of any kind wasn't real. But some nights you'd sneak into her study and take on of the many books on the shelves.

Stories of romance , adventure, a knight in shining armor. Despite what your mother said to you, those books kept your fantasies of love alive. You just haven't experienced for yourself let. Could that be the silly feeling in your stomach?

I mean, Logan did come in and rescue you. He wasn't wearing armor or riding a horse, instead he showed up in a blue car and a leather jacket. He didn't slay a dragon but he did threaten that one guy at the gas station. You hear him stir, his eyes opening as he groans and shoves a pillow over his eyes so the sun stops hitting him.

You quickly turn on your other side, pretending to be asleep. Would Logan even want to be with someone like you? He's on a mission to bring you back to his home. This is just a mission for him.

Right?

The week deadline Logan gave Charles has gone out the window. It's been far longer as the two of you drive into a new state. Truth be told Logan has been enjoying being away from the mansion. There's no pressure to be anyone but who he is out here.

You don't know anything about his past, or who he was before he came back. You're bright eyed and curious. You had become more and more comfortable around him. You didn't care if he could shoot claws through his knuckles, you trusted him completely.

Now every time you saw something new you begged him to stop. He pretended to be annoyed, making some comment about how he doesn't have the money for all this damn gas. But he can't say no to you. Despite being locked away for so long you seem to have perfected your puppy dog eyes in a matter of days.

In some weird way, watching you discover the world has made him find some joy in life that he's been missing. Logan has always been a glass half empty person if you will and you were so full that some of it was spilling into Logan's glass. He learned that you weren't completely clueless but there were a lot of things that you had never experienced for yourself. Being told stories could only do so much.

You're leaning against the window of the car humming a song on the radio. You really love the radio. In the cupholder sits a water bottle that had been cut in half and filled with dirt and flowers. You had asked him to pull over while passing this field of flowers. He leaned against the car as you took your time admiring them all.

Laying down in the grass and staring at the blue sky. You had called him over and he stood above you, a smile on his face as you held out your hand.

"I don't frolic in flowers sweetheart." Still he let you lay and watch the wind blow the clouds, pointing out the ones that looked a little funny. By the time you got back in his car you had dirt on your clothes and the biggest smile on your face.

You handed him a little handful of daisies. You could barely look at him as you gave them to him, telling him they were a thank you. Those cute little flowers are now living in a cupholder but he likes being reminded of that day.

"Woah! Logan what's that?!" You sit up and point out the window. To your right was a massive wheel and tents and lots of cars.

"Must be a fair or something." He says.

"What's that?"

"It's like a big party I guess. There's greasy food and games and rides." He points towards the big wheel.

"Can we go?" You beg, this is the fourth time today you've asked him to stop and at this rate you won't get back to the mansion by next month. But Logan pulls off the freeway anyways.

The parking lot is uneven ground and you stumble as you try and step in the right spots. Logan just laughs, holding out his arm for you. Shyly you wrap your hands around his big biceps. The bright lights and smells overwhelm you as you step through the gates.

People all around you are laughing and enjoying themselves. You see kids running past trying to get to the next ride, people eating delicious smelling food, bells and whistles literally ringing in your ears from the different game booths.

"Too much?" Logan asks, pulling you to the side.

"No, it's just. I've never seen so many happy people all in one place." You admit. It was an contagious feeling, you wanted to explore everything. and be as happy as the people around you.

Logan takes you through the fair, not letting you go for a moment. He lets you play those rigged fair games for that teddy bear he could easily buy at some second hand store. But you want it so he pays the money. He does end up taking the last shot for you, using all his strength to knock down those damn bottles. Which he does but he also rips a whole in the tent and the tent behind it.

Oops. But you have that teddy bear now.

"I'm going to get us some food, you stay right here got it? No wandering." You nod as you sit on the wooden bench.

You're holding onto the bear waiting for him to come back when you hear someone crying. Through the noise of the fair you can pin point the quiet sobs. You know Logan told you to stay put but you can't ignore the cries. You get up and look around for the source, ducking behind one of the tents to see a little girl on the ground. She has tears streaming down her face clutching her knee.

"What's wrong?" You ask softly as you approach her. She looks scared and you try not to make things worse.

"I fell and hurt my knee and now I can't find my parents." She sniffs, wiping her eyes.

"Can I see your knee, I can help I promise." She looks unsure and so you take the teddy bear Logan won for you and hand it to her.

"This is Mr. Bear, he's a friend." She reaches out and takes him, petting his fluffy head and letting you get closer.

She hugs him tight as you gently rest your hands over her knee. Closing your eyes you hear her gasp as your hair starts to glow. When you open your eyes again her knee is healed. She stares at you in awe.

"You're magic!" She squeals as she stands up, her energy coming back in full force.

"I guess," She jumps into your arms, hugging you tightly. Suddenly she perks up, the frantic voice of an adult calling her name.

"That's my mommy, I should go." She hands you back Mr. Bear but you tell her to keep it.

She runs off to her mom and through the gaps of the tents you see her run into her arms. Her mom overjoyed at finding her again. Your heart sinks just a little, your own mother clawing her way back into your mind. Does she miss you? Did she even notice you were gone? You hear a tent rip and you turn around to see Logan pushing through the fabric. A panicked look on his face.

"Fuck! There you are." He grabs your arm and pulls you back out into the fair.

"I told you to stay put!" He sighs, running his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry...This little girl, she was hurt and I wanted to help." You wrap your arms around your body, afraid that Logan would be upset at you forever. He looks around and sees a familiar looking bear in a little girls hand. She was talking animatedly to her mother. He can pick up a few words. Magic, healing.

"That was dangerous to do sweetheart, you don't know what kind of people are out here." The worry in his chest isn't going anywhere as he sits down on the bench.

The fear that overtook him when he saw you were gone, fuck he hasn't felt that in a long time. His mind going to the worst places as he frantically searched for you.

"I know, I just couldn't leave her there." You say.

The truth is you had forgotten what the world was like to people like you. Your mother fed you lies for years about how horrible people were to those like you. Mutants. But for some reason when you're with Logan you feel safe. You feel like nothing can hurt you with him around. He's completely flipped your life upside down and you've loved every second. So for a moment you didn't even think of the danger of using your powers out in public. Not when you had Logan.

To your shock Logan pulls you into a hug. His arms wrapping around you tightly. You're here, you're okay. He tells himself. He can't fight it anymore, this feeling inside of him. Somethin in him has changed and it's all your fault.

He lets go far too soon your liking. Not saying a word as he hands you some food. You eat in silence, your knee bouncing up and down as you keep glancing at Logan.

"You don't like it?" He asks seeing how you've barely touched it.

"No no I do, I just...I guess I'm not that hungry." You push the tray of food back to Logan and he just sighs.

"Come on, I want to show you something." He stands up and holds out his hand.

Silently you let him lead you through the crowds until you've gone past the games and the food. Your jaw drops as you see the big wheel come into view. All of your worries are forgotten as you run towards it, Logan following close behind.

"Get in sweetheart, I'll be right there." You see him whisper something to the ride operator and hand him something before getting in next to you. You yelp as it starts to move. Slamming your back against the metal of the seat.

"It's okay, I got you." Logan lifts his arm and puts it around you, letting you stick to his side as the cart goes higher and higher.

You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest as you feel yourself getting higher up in the sky. A loud pop makes you screech and slide closer to Logan. He chuckles and gently tilts your head up to look at him.

"Check it out sweetheart, got the best view in the house." You slowly move your face to see big bright colors in the air. You let go of Logan and grab onto the metal bar. Leaning over it as you watch the bright colors shoot through the sky.

"Fireworks." You say breathlessly.

Every year the small city near by would launch these into the sky. Your mother always forced you to bed before night fall but you had your ways and would sneak all the way to the attic. Watching through the tiny window. You could only ever catch a glimpse but it was the highlight of your year, now here they are right in front of you.

"They're beautiful."

Red, Orange, Blue shimmers of light just light up the whole sky. The sky rumbles from the loud booms and the soft fizzles. You rest your head in your hands, utterly mesmerized by the scene in front of you.

Logan has seen a lot of fireworks in his day but these just might be his favorite. They're nothing special. Maybe a little bigger than he's scene before. But these are the ones to bring a smile to your face. You haven't stopped smiling since the show started. He wanted you as close as you could get and what better place than the top of the Ferris wheel.

There's colors lighting up the sky but his eyes are on you. He just can't help himself. Seeing you so happy, so at peace. It's all he wants. His own heart beats a little faster when you look back at him. Nothing but pure joy in that pretty smile.

"Gorgeous." He whispers. You look down at your lap, fighting the fluttering in your stomach.

"Thank you, for everything Logan. For showing me the world, for...for just being you." You don't think you could ever repay what Logan has done for you.

Everything feels so different now but it's a good different. The kind of different that makes you want to dig deeper to see just what has changed.

"I owe you more than you know sweetheart," Logan's rough hand covers yours. He gently takes lifts it off the metal bar and interlaces his fingers with yours, squeezing it gently.

"You asked when we first met why they sent me to come get you." His other hand reaches to cup your face. There's nothing but love and adoration in his eyes as he tilts your head up.

"The truth is I was lost." He doesn't want to spill everything but he needs to know what this whole trip, what you mean to him.

"The past couple of months it feels like I've been drowning, like I couldn't breathe. Until I met you. You look at the world with an optimism I haven't scene in so long. It's infectious. You're infectious."

"Is that a good thing?" You whisper, afraid to even move in fear of ruining this moment.

"Depends, I'm an old man sweetheart. If you don't mind that, if you don't mind me." He knows that he may not be the kind of person you've dreamed of. He's not exactly out of a storybook now is he?

"Logan...All I've known is the inside of that house. I didn't know what was out here," You glance back at the fireworks, at the people below you watching and laughing.

"But you showed me just what I've been missing and I could never thank you enough. I don't know why you felt so lost, but I'm glad it led you to me." Everything just feels right, your heart beating in time with his as he leans in.

Capturing your lips in a soft kiss. Now you don't know if the fireworks are in your head or if they're still going. You can't focus on anything but the feeling of his lips on yours. Both his hands now cupping your face as he deepens the kiss. Chasing after the fresh air that he's longed to breathe.

You reach up and tug on his jacket. Needing him closer to you. This, this is more than you could ever imagine. The stories don't do it justice. Words on paper could never have prepared you for this. For the feeling of his hands on your skin, the movement of his lips, the soft noises, the scent of cigars and honey, the desperation behind every single thing he does.

It couldn't have prepared you for the overwhelming flood of emotions swirling through your heart. It's brand new and you never wanted to it to end. It feels like an eternity passes by the time Logan finally pulls back, his lips still so close to yours. His chest rises and falls slowly. Maybe it's just the fair lights but you swear you see the red creeping up his face.

"What are you looking at?" You ask shyly. A giggle bubbling in your chest as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Just wondering how I got so lucky." He says sincerely. Seriously how? Maybe this was the worlds way of thanking him, for forgiving him for the sins of his past.

"I think I'm the lucky one." You kiss his wrist, resting your hand on his arm.

The ferris wheel lurches back into motion taking you both off guard. Logan grabs onto you quickly, pulling you into his chest as you slowly move back down to the ground.

It's like everyone else fades to the background as Logan guides you through the crowd. You're very aware of his hand in yours. You don't ever want to let go. But the fair has come to an end and it's time to leave. Though you don't think you'll ever forget today.

"Do we have to go back to New York already?" You ask as you rest your head against the car window.

"There's still so much I want to see." So much you want to see with Logan.

Logan taps on the steering wheel, he knows he'll have to return to the mansion eventually but he looks over and sees those pleading eyes.

"I don't think they're missing me too much, maybe a little longer." Your eyes light up and he just shakes his head, a smile on his face. Man is he fucked.

I'll be home soon Charles, if you can hear me.

As Logan pulls out of the parking lot he thinks back to what he was told before leaving. Take your time. Well he never specified just how much time. In fact, a small cabin up in Canada doesn't sound too bad right about now. But he'll take you there another day. For now, you have the whole world to explore. He rests his hand on your thigh and pulls out onto the freeway.

"So sweetheart, where do you want to go next?"

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

And I'm so happy that you do ❤️ every child loves a parent that understands.

I absolutely love my parents, they do mean well but are from a different generation. They caused my eating disorders and anxiety issues even though I'm sure they tried their best. I know my father is trying still, he completely disregarded an anxiety attack and meltdown I had last year on our holiday even though I sorted everything out to assuage his anxiety and stress.

I know they both mean well in their own way but I would never go to them for any mental health issues. I love them dearly but they were raised differently and just don't understand it all. I still talk to them but not about some things

[dangerpronebuddie]

Eddie takes the picture from the fridge and smiles at the grin on Chris' face. It soothes the bone deep ache that had set in the moment he watched his son walk out, at the same time acting like another bolt to his heart.

Footsteps thunk on the wood floor and Eddie places the photo back beside the one of his niece. He looks up and gives an awkward half smile to his dad, the only one who had been home when Eddie knocked a few minutes ago.

"Hard to believe he's grown so much," Ramon comments as he takes a mug from the cabinet. He holds it up with a raise of his eyebrows and Eddie nods.

"Hard to believe I missed so much of it," Eddie adds. He falls into a chair at the kitchen table. It squeaks like it always has. It doesn't break the sudden heaviness in the room.

Ramon pours two cups of coffee, spoons sugar into both. It takes Eddie a little by surprise that his dad knows how he likes his coffee.

"You were serving your country, Edmundo," Ramon points out as he sits down across from him, sliding the pristine yellow mug towards Eddie.

Eddie scoffs. Nods his thanks as he lifts his coffee to his lips. The sip burns all the way down. It feels better than the hollowness he's been carrying around lately. "And four months ago?"

Ramon takes a deep breath, folds his arms on the table as he raises his eyebrows. "I can't answer that one, Eddie."

Eddie mirrors his position and sighs. He hasn't tried to answer it himself either. Was too ashamed to look at it. His goal has been to get back to his son. Beyond that? He has no idea.

"I... just wanted more time with her," Eddie admits, staring at the steam rising from his cup rather than the no doubt judgement on his father's face.

"Eddie." Ramon shifts in his seat, drawing Eddie's attention back. There's no judgement. Instead, there's something forlorn in the downturn of his mouth. Something pained in his eyes, but clear. "If you spend the rest of your life wishing for more time, you will never have any."

Eddie's eyes burn. He sips his coffee, hopes it will dislodge the emotion in his throat. It doesn't.

"I spent your childhood providing for this family," Ramon continues. "I can't get that time back-" he reaches across the table and squeezes Eddie's wrist- "but I'm not going to waste what I do have left, wishing I could fix it."

Eddie lets out a shaky exhale, clears his throat. "I'm not sure I have more time, Pop."

"Eddie, the boy has spent the last four months talking about you. About his life in LA," Ramon says. "All he wants is time with you. He just needed space to understand that."

Eddie bites back the impulsive response on his tongue. That he was giving Christopher space. That his parents didn't need to swoop in and take over. But he knows, at least on his father's part, the intention was good.

"I don't want to miss out on anymore of my son's life," he says instead, an echo of a talk in this very kitchen a few years ago, and in his own when Buck discovered his plan.

"For what it's worth," Ramon adds, his eyes shining with tears and something akin to pride, "you've done good with him."

Eddie swallows thickly. Bites the inside of his lower lip to stop the tremble. He can't get the words out to thank his father- instead simply squeezes his wrist.

Ramon nods once with a tight lipped smile. "I'm sorry you've had to do it all on your own."

This time, Eddie doesn't stop the retort that springs to mind. It's the truth. One he'd only realized when his best friend took on his house- carried his weight so easily. "I don't think I've really been on my own for a while."

Ramon's smile grows, knowing and fond. "I'm glad you have him."

"Yeah," Eddie says with a smile Hen deemed Buck-specific, "me too."

The front door opens, the sound of crutches tapping on hardwood following after it. Eddie holds his breath.

Ramon squeezes his wrist once more before letting go with a nod of encouragement.

When Christopher beams and barrels into Eddie's chest for a hug, Eddie finally, finally feels like he's not wishing for more time.

[Also on ao3]

[paladin--strait]

Could I request prompts 6, 27, and 44 with Timo Meier? Can you also add that his parents are with reader at the game?

always there - timo meier

prompts: teacher! reader, "i'll take care of you.", and player going crazy when he gets chirped about reader

tw!: fighting, mentions of blood, mentions of bullying and bad home life

-

it's no surprise that the devils and rangers always have a rivalry, especially during the playoff rush. a few days ago, i gave two of my students tickets to see the game as a prize for being such great students.

the way their faces and their parents faces lit up when i kept my word and gave them the tickets was the highlight of my day. the seventh grader, parker, was being bullied, the sight of him sitting alone at lunch tugging at my heartstrings. nina had many friends but was having trouble in school.

parker told me one friday when i pulled him out of class that the kids don't want to hang out with him because he's different and not cool enough. his trembling voice and the way he fiddled with the paracord bracelet on his wrist made me bend down to his level, reassuring words leaving my mouth softly.

nina told me the previous day, a thursday, that the reason she was having a hard time staying alert and paying attention in class was because she was having a tough time at home. her parents fought, often times so loudly she couldn't sleep. she said the only reason why she seems so happy at school is because she can see her friends, and because she enjoys learning new things my class. she's always been a bright and smart young girl, and seeing her struggle so much made my heart throb with sadness.

i announced to my class the following monday that two students who do well for the whole month in my class, not only by grades, but also by the way they treat others, will get a special surprise of their choosing. (within reason, of course.)

at the end of the month, which wasn't far away from when i told them the idea, i announced the students were parker and nina. the way the gasp left parker's mouth, soon replaced by a toothy grin almost made me cry on the spot. nina was so excited, a grin on her face as her friends congratulate her for winning.

all children should be treated with kindness and respect, and since i didn't have very many students this year and there was just enough time in the school year for everyone to be chosen, i decided the idea was a great way for some kids to maybe make new friends, while treating all of them equally with things they love. almost like a reward system.

it made me excited to find out that parker and nina both have at least one thing in common. they both love hockey. since timo and i are engaged, i have connections to take them and meet the players before the game. when i offered to this to them, their excitement and the way their heads nodded made me buy tickets on the spot. i let them pick out who they wanted to see the devils play and of course, they picked the devils vs. rangers.

and now we're here, two kids on my right and timo's parents on my left, our seats right up on the glass. the kids received jerseys from the players, covered in signatures. they also received hats and a puck each. timo's mom, claudia, taps my shoulder, leaning in.

"it's so sweet that you brought some students to see the game with you. timo told me about what you're doing for your kids." she smiles wide, a hint of proudness in her eyes. "it's an amazing idea. i'm sure those two will end up good friends, i can already tell."

i nod with a smile, looking over at nina and parker. they're laughing, jumping up and down while watching the players warm up. "it's crazy how two completely different kids can get along so well."

she leans back in her seat, "when timo told me what you do for work, he sounded so incredibly proud of you. at first, i couldn't understand why. but now, i absolutely do."

i smile gratefully. "thank you, mrs. meier. my job is so important to me. these kids bring me so much joy, it's incredible. makes me so happy to see them getting along."

a nod comes from her, and we continue to talk throughout the game. since about halfway through the first period, there's was something unusual about timo. like something in him flipped, a side of him i've never seen. his parents see it too, i know they do. they're just keeping quiet.

my heart pounds as the third period begins, something's wrong. i can tell. and sure enough, three minutes and seventeen seconds in, it all comes crashing down. timo's on the opposing player in an instant, punches thrown. it's not like a normal fight where they hold on to each others jerseys and kinda throw each other around a bit. no, this was a fight.

everything around me seems to stop and i feel a hand on my left take mine, presumably timo's mom. i watch them fight, blood all over each others faces and jerseys. timo's helmet is long gone, his jaw clenched. i can see him yelling as he fights, eventually taking down the ranger player.

i release a breath i didn't know i was holding as the refs pull him off, pulling him to the tunnel while he continues to yell. he walks off, a little wobble in his step from his skates. he disappears down the hallway for the rest of the game, i look over at his mom, she's already looking at me.

her face is full of worry, brows furrowed and lips parted. i already know what she's gonna ask, and i shake my head. i don't know what that was about. i look over at the kids, their eyes full of awe and wonder. they're fired up from the fight, i know they are by their expressions.

my knee bounces up and down until the end of the game. i walk the kids to their parents and they all thank for me for the experience. i muster my best smile i can manage at the moment, giving them hugs and telling them i'll see them at school tomorrow.

timo's parents have already left, needing to get on their flight to go home in a few hours. i walk back to the hallway, where nico and jesper are pacing the corridor. they rush to me as soon as i come into their view, their words rushed and nervous. i tell them to slow down, and prepare to hear what they have to say.

nico speaks, "timo won't talk. he won't talk to anyone. he's still sitting in there in his gear, looking down at the ground. he wouldn't even let the trainers touch him to clean his cut." his brows are laced together, his signature look of haunted worry. "we thought made you could talk to him?"

i nod, "yeah, i can try."

i slowly make my way into the locker room, looking around and seeing timo in his seat, still in his gear like nico said. i approach him slowly, the door clicking shut behind me. i hear a shaky breath come from his direction as i get closer, he's probably smelled my perfume. "baby...?" i whisper, kneeling down in front of him.

his eyes are focused on his skates, even though i'm right there. i place my hand on his knee, my other reaching up to cup his cheek. he tenses up at my touch, finally meeting my gaze. his eyes are red, puffy and swollen, wet with unshed tears he's been holding back.

"i just wanted to protect you..." he whispers, his voice cracking. it's clear he hasn't drank anything since he got in here, so i hand him his water bottle and make him drink.

"what are you talking about? you already protect me everyday." i say, moving to sit beside him after moving nico's stuff. "what happened out there?" i move his hair out of his face.

he looks over at me, "trocheck, he was chirping me about you. talking about the kids you brought with you and how you...would look so good with his kids. he kept talking about how he was gonna take you from me and...i just couldn't take it, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry..." he looks down, a sniffle leaving his nose.

"oh no, my love. don't be sorry. you did what you thought was right. and don't worry, i would never leave you. never ever ever. you're the only one for me, the only one who can protect me and care for me, i promise." i say, taking his hand in mine and rubbing his knuckles with my thumb.

he sniffs again, "i know you wouldn't, but the way he was talking about you...i would never want to hear those things about anyone, the things he said i would never repeat." his words make me frown, but i won't push him to tell me.

"you don't have to repeat them. now, how about you change into your regular clothes, get your nose fixed up and meet me outside, yeah? i'll give you some time." i smile softly, kissing his cheek before i stand up. he nods his head, slowly taking off his gear as i walk out.

nico and jesper are still there, now joined by stefan. it's clear they're worried about their friend, and i couldn't be more grateful for them. they've done so much for timo, always so kind to him.

"is he okay?" jesper asks, his normal worried face still there. "where is he?"

"he's changing, i just left to give him some time."

"what happened? did he tell you?" stefan asks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"yeah, he told me. he said trocheck was chirping him about me and how he was gonna take me from him or something. but timo told me, that he said stuff he wouldn't want to hear about anybody, or even repeat. he's really upset." i sigh, leaning on the opposite wall.

jesper leans beside me as stefan speaks, "yeah, i figured that's what it was. if i'm gonna be honest, i heard some of what he said. i was hoping it wasn't about you, sad to hear it was."

i nod, my lips pursing together. the guys eventually say their goodbyes and timo comes out a few minutes later. he still looks upset, his face puffy and his head hung low. i cup his cheeks, picking his head up to look at me.

"hey, don't be upset. i appreciate you sticking up for me, i really do..." i smile softly, rubbing his cheekbone with my thumb. "how about...some ice cream?"

it may sound silly, but timo loves ice cream. he eats it when he's sick, happy, sad, angry. it's like his comfort food, something he knows he can depend on to make him feel better. he nods, and i lead him out to the car, his hand in mine.

i drive to his favorite ice cream shop, going through the drive thru and ordering his favorite ice cream and mine. i thank the lady behind the window, and pay her. i wait for my card to come back, and hand timo the ice cream.

i drive to the nearby park, pulling into a parking spot and getting out. we sit on a bench in front of the huge fountain, the sound of the flowing water and the moon shining down on us is comforting. we sit in a comfortable silence, eating our ice cream.

i sigh, setting down my empty container and lean into his side, his arm coming up to rest on my shoulder as he finishes his ice cream. he sets his trash with mine, and leans in to kiss my cheek.

"thank you, my love." he says, a small smile now on his face. "you always know how to make me feel better."

i laugh softly, moving my head to kiss his hand that rests on my shoulder. "i'll always take care of you, baby."

we watch the water flow through the fountain, the water glimmering under the moon. it's peaceful, just what we need after such a long and stressful day.

"we should get going, you have a rowdy group of kids to teach tomorrow and i have morning skate." timo says, standing up and holding out his hand to help me stand.

we hold hands as we slowly walk back to the car, a yawn leaving my lips. every second with timo is so interesting. he brings such light to my life. it's like a new adventure everyday, and i could never be more grateful for him.

[fou4summer]

Hello, first I want to apologize since English is not my strong point and I don't know how well written this is haha but I wanted to ask you something with Baek Harin, like if she and the reader are a couple and everyone sees Harin as a horrible and manipulative person and they don't understand why the reader is still with her but behind all that hard facade when they are alone, Harin is the most adorable person in the world who only wants love and if you could add a little smut since I love how you write, thanks <3

Only for you

baek harin × fem!reader

Synopsis: Everyone thinks that your girlfriend, Harin is toxic and manipulative, but they don't see how soft and sweet she is when you two are alone.

Warnings: NSFW, smoking

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 859

Everyone at your school was scared of Baek Harin. First, because her grandma owned the school, and second, because she was the highest rank in the Pyramid Game. She didn’t really pay attention to anyone, even when Dayeon would beat someone up right in front of her. Your friends often told you that you should break up with her, saying that she was just a horrible and manipulative person.

"Seriously, Y/N, what were you thinking when you agreed to be her girlfriend?" Your friend Yerim said, walking beside you on your way home from school.

"Exactly, she's the worst pick. Even Dayeon would be better." Suji added as Jaeun clung to her side.

"Guys, you just don’t know her when she’s with me. She’s the total opposite of what you’re saying right now." You said while swiping through your phone.

"What, she beats you less?" Your friends all laughed, and you rolled your eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Harin behind the school, smoking.

"Guys, I’ll excuse myself first. See you at school tomorrow!" You waved as you ran toward your girlfriend.

"She knows tomorrow is Saturday right?" Jaeun asked, confused, as Suji and Yerim burst out laughing.

You snuck up behind Harin before hugging her around the waist. She turned around when she felt you.

"Hey love. I didn’t see you all day." She said, stepping on her cigarette.

"Yeah, I was with the girls. Sorry!" You replied, and she just nodded, smiling.

"Don’t apologize baby. How about we go for a walk if you’re free?" She asked, and you replied with a loud yes. She laughed at your excitement. You got ice cream, and now she was holding your hand as you talked about the most random things, but she, of course, listened.

"Did you know that the whole school thinks you’re using me?" You suddenly said while finishing your ice cream.

"I’ve heard, yeah. Are they bothering you? Do you want me to get them out of the school?" She asked, making you stop in your tracks.

"Harin! That’ll just prove their point that you're a horrible person! And no, do not do that." She smiled at your face before wiping ice cream from your mouth. Your cheeks turned red, and she seemed to notice because she kissed you right there on the street. You were shocked but kissed her back. She wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

"My mom texted me earlier. She went grocery shopping. Do you want to come over for a bit? You know my parents take a while there." You said before she agrees and the two of you hurried to your house. You unlocked the door and let Harin step in. You both took off your shoes and closed the door.

"Would you like to eat something?" You asked. She shook her head, saying that you had already eaten ice cream and that she was full.

-

You decide on watching a movie, but she seemed to have other plans. Five minutes into the movie her hands were already all over you with you in her lap. She unbuttons your uniform taking it off.

"Are you sure love?" She always asked you that no matter what time you're doing it. You nod while caressing her face. She takes her blouse off quickly getting back to kissing you. You take your skirt off before straddling her lap again.

"You're so beautiful today, Y/N." She says while placing soft kisses all over your neck moving to your collarbone.

"Can I take this off?" Her hand placed at the clasp of your bra. You nod, slowly getting impatient. She unclasps your bra, her other hand sneaking in your underwear. Just as she slides your bra off your shoulders, the front door open making you both jump.

“Honey, we’re home!” You both freeze, looking at each other, before you quickly throw on her blouse and get off her lap. She quickly fixes her hair and sits up on your bed. In that moment, your bedroom door opens.

“Y/N we’re ho— Oh Harin! Hey! Y/N didn’t tell us you were coming over today. How are you? How’s your mom?” Your mom asks, greeting your girlfriend.

“My mom is great, probably at work, and I’m great too! How are you doing?” Harin asks, smiling warmly, just like the two of you.

“That’s great to hear sweetheart and im feeling good thank you for asking. How about you stay for dinner?” Your mom suggests. Harin looks at you for a moment and nods in agreement.

“Oh, Y/N, when did you buy that blouse? It looks expensive. You didn’t use your dads credit card, right?” Your mom asks about your, actually, Harin’s blouse and you freeze, not knowing what to say.

“I bought Y/N that for our five month anniversary. I hope you don’t mind.” Harin jumps in, nudging your shoulder for you to agree. You quickly nod, your mom smiles and leaves to make dinner.

“Thanks, great save.” You kiss her cheek before lying down on your bed. She joins you, placing her head on your chest as you continue the movie you were watching. Lets just say you continue something else a few minutes later...

A/N: This is really short, but thank you so much for the request, I hope you like it!<33

[blackcrystalball]

Honestly I think the worst part of it all is the adults just refusing to do anything about it. It actually sets me ablaze with fury.

I got lucky in that my autism was palatable because I'm pretty and most of my special interests were fashion and makeup related, so people didn't clock me as "too weird," but my best friend wasn't so lucky. Our classmates would do the weird low-key bullying that requires a lot of social skills to understand (they invited us each to a dinner, separately, as a joke?? I, to this day, don't know what the joke could have been. I didn't realise they were trying to bully me so it didn't really work. But she realised, and it really hurt her feelings because she thought they were friends.) And weird shit like that was constant and literally no one did anything.

At the end of grade 12 she wanted to report our Afrikaans teacher to the board because she would literally terrorise the students who wouldn't fight her back. The neurodivergent ones, the ones from different countries that struggled with Afrikaans because they had very little experience with the language, and honestly anyone that struggled in general. I have no idea what her fucking problem was, but she clearly hated children and she seemingly hated my bestie the most. She was literally screaming at her loud enough that classes down the hall could hear her and would complain.

That woman was the actual fucking worst. Screaming seemed to be her only method of conveying upset, she'd always cause such a fucking scene, i assume to embarrass whoever she's shouting at. It was weird and honestly pathetic imo. She's grown, older than our parents and she couldn't express that she was frustrated with how slow people's progress was? Screaming at them, in Afrikaans, a language they barely understand, is the only way she can do it???

And the principal and hod did nothing, honestly the hod was a seperate fucking problem on her own(that bitch has such major beef with me, and then my mom by having beef with me), they only made moves, for like a week after my besties parents came to the school with representation to let them know that if it kept happening, it was going to be a big problem.

Things changed for like a week, then she was back to it, eventually everyone was so fucking over it that they just let it go. My bestie didn't bother with the complaint and just stomached the abuse until we graduated.

Bullying, especially from the adults that are supposed to protect you, will literally grind your down down to powder and you won't have anything left to give. Why try when literally everyone's going to shit on whatever you do.

And that school held so many anti-bullying assemblies because the students were fucking insane. And it was all such weird low-key bullying. They're little bully badges did nothing, most people forgot they even existed by the second day.

Schools are so fucking performative, they love boasting about how accepting and inclusive they are, but once it's actually time to get the fuck up and do their job, they can't be bothered. The teachers, the leadership, even the fucking administration does nothing.

None of them ever fucking do anything and it's so frustrating.

every piece of ""autistic representation"" in hollywood sucks not just because of the infantalization and inspiration porn but because movie executives always fail to realize the real universal autistic experience: spending your childhood slowly and unfalteringly realizing all of your friends not so secretly hated and/or merely tolerated you at best and you've missed every social signal about it ever

[hgfictionwriter]

Revelations - Part Ten

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: An unexpected person reaches out to you and the pieces of your broken life continue to finally fall back into place.

Warnings: None.

A/N: The rest of the series is here.

"Hi Y/N. This is Sara. It's been a while and I hope you're doing well. I hope you don't mind me reaching out, but I'm doing so because Zoie would like to formally invite you to her birthday party this Sunday."

"Full disclosure. She's asked Jessie for weeks, but as I understand, Jessie's being very respectful of your wishes and doesn't want to push. That said, a soon-to-be 6-year-old doesn't really get it and doesn't care about things like that and is fairly relentless lol."

"She says she has so much fun with you and Jessie, and she doesn't know why the three of you can't keep doing that. And for the record, she loves her dinosaur shirt and gives me hell anytime I try to take it away to wash it. And when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, one thing she said is she wanted you there - for all those other reasons - but also because Jessie was happiest when you were there. So, will you come?"

"If it doesn't feel right to you, that's okay. I get it. This entire thing has been a lot and I'm beyond sure none of it is what you pictured or wanted. I really didn't mean to crash your life. I really, really thought long and hard about bringing Jessie into Zoie's life. I ultimately felt I owed it to Zoie to. And I was terrified when I learned Jessie was engaged. I knew how this would potentially blow things up and I really didn't want that. I'm truly sorry it turned out the way it did."

"Anyway, you didn't ask for my story. My point was - not that you've asked - the way Jessie loves you is next level. She doesn't have to tell me a thing. It's apparent. It's special. I can tell any time she's talked with you. She's so much happier. It shows. And it's none of my business, but, if I were you, I'd maybe want to know."

"Okay. Now I'm done lol. If you don't reply, I'll leave you alone. No hard feelings."

You stared at the messages you came back to after your meeting. The last person's name you expected to show up on your phone was Sara's. She obviously thought you'd deleted her - you hadn't.

You and her had talked very minimally one on one, and always in a - more or less - forced capacity. And certainly never about topics like this. Again, you'd never hated her as a person. She seemed, well, perfectly fine. She just represented the force that brought your world as you knew it crumbling down.

But now here she was offering you a lifeline.

You needed a breath.

You backed out of your conversation with Sara and over to your one with Jessie. She was still in Canada with Zoie and you'd been texting intermittently since your impromptu reunion.

The texts had been light, both of you purposefully evading critical questions and topics knowing you were going to talk more when she got back. That said, the messages between you were more easy than before. And even if they weren't explicitly affectionate, there were undertones.

You smiled at the last messages from her. A picture of Zoie all done up in her snowsuit and playing in Jessie's parents' backyard along with a message of, "Someone loves the snow."

A dull ache formed in your chest, but it wasn't the same as before. Before, the ache had torn at you, gnawing, painful and malignant. But this new ache was different. It was longing and sweet. Something to chase; something to not be scared of.

You went back to Sara's messages.

“What does Zoie want for her birthday?”

-----------

While you'd felt eerily calm leading up to the weekend, as you parked your car down the street from Sara's place your nerves started to make themselves known again.

You stared steadily at the house, spotting Jessie's car parked out front.

Jessie didn't actually know you'd be here today. You don't know why you chose not to tell her. You even asked Sara not to mention anything. Who knows, maybe Sara thought you wanted to keep it down low in case you bailed. No expectations and no hurt feelings for anyone, then.

Maybe you were woefully misreading things, but you almost felt like it could be a good surprise.

You took a deep breath and picked up the gift you'd wrapped for Zoie and got out of your car and walked towards the front door. Your heart raced, hoping, for whatever reason, Jessie wouldn't see you before Sara did. You needed to get some things off your chest.

Sara told you prior to just open the door and come inside. So you did. Quietly. Tentatively.

Your eyes darted around the room.

There was a handful of kids running around - Zoie was still pretty new at her school, but had clearly managed to forge some friendships there, at dance, at swimming.

No surprise. She was just as likable as Jessie.

Then, there were a few adults mingling about. Mostly parents, you assumed, watching over things, playing with the kids, or chatting idly amongst themselves.

That former sense of 'otherness' threatened to rise up within you again, but you dismantled it this time. You weren't going to feel that way again. You were invited. You were asked to be here. You were wanted.

Then you saw a glimpse of them. Jessie was in the other room where the kids were running in and out of. Zoie was hanging off of Jessie's back, a kid latched onto each of her legs as she playfully lumbered around, the kids all laughing and yelling as they hung off of her.

You turned as Sara was coming out of the kitchen and you almost collided.

"Oh my god," she said with a laugh. Her eyes lit up as she took you in. "You came! I'm so glad."

As you saw this woman for the first time in months - this woman who was the source of so much angst and upheaval in your life - you felt a flash of anxiety. Like some emotional PTSD.

But it faded as she smiled at you. She was just a girl whose own life had been turned upside down many years ago. Her own future permanently changed; visions and dreams as she’d planned them no longer the same.

She’d gone it alone. Turned her circumstances into something to be cherished. And, in time, and justly so, decided to do right by her daughter. And Jessie.

She wasn’t a monster. She didn’t come into your life with malintent. You’d been caught in the shockwaves and fallout, but it wasn’t her fault or her intention.

She certainly didn’t need to try to save your relationship with Jessie. To keep you in Zoie’s life. In fact, it would’ve been much easier on her to have Jessie and Zoie to herself.

But she reached out to you anyway.

You felt your cheeks heating up. "Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me."

She shook her head. "Of course. You were very much wanted at this party. Someone had to tell you," she said with a smirk.

"Here. This is for Zoie," you said as you extended the gift. Sara gently pushed it back to you.

"Why don't you give it to her," she smiled, before adding with a smirk, "But she can't open it until after cake. Don't let her tell you otherwise."

You chuckled. “Sure. I’ll watch out for that.”

A beat passed and your pulse picked up again. You'd gone over in your head countless times what you wanted to say, and if you were going to say it, now would be the time.

"Um, this day is about Zoie, so I'm not going to take your focus away for long, but I want to just say something really quick," you said. Sara listened attentively.

“I wanted to say thank you for what you said the other day. I think I needed to hear it from someone other than Jessie. And, honestly,” you bit back a weak laugh, “you’re the most impartial, in a way. If it was Janine. Sinc. Elysse. Whoever, I feel like it wouldn’t have been the same. So, thank you, it means a lot.”

“I’m glad you weren’t upset that I reached out,” Sara admitted. “I mean, yes, Zoie absolutely kept badgering me and Jessie to invite you," she chuckled, "but beyond that, yeah."

She took a breath.

"I know it’s not my business. I mean, yes, Jessie’s life impacts Zoie’s, but Jessie’s obviously free to make her own choices and decisions. And honestly, I have no clue what ultimately went down between you two. None of my business either! I'm really just piecing things together from glimpses I've gotten during drop-off and pick-up, and things Zoie mentions.” She shrugged vaguely. “Jessie plays things very close to the vest, but - even if she never says anything - it’s obvious where she’s at and how she feels about you even now. And I wasn’t kidding - Zoie’s enchanted by you. Must run in the genes,” she said with a sly smirk before growing serious again. “So, this seemed like the right opportunity to say something.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed her words. You weren't expecting her to say more than she did the other day.

But again, here you were. Jessie wasn't exactly confiding in Sara. She hadn't fallen into Sara's arms in your absence. It was even obvious to Sara, her ex, the mother of her child, that Jessie was still in love with you.

Your mind sharpened once more and you remembered what you planned to say. You cleared your throat.

"Thank you. I, um, I know things have been complicated. I don’t know how much has fallen back on you, or Zoie, during all of this. I hope not much at all. And I'm sorry for anything that did. I know things couldn’t have been easy for you either. A lot of big decisions along the way, uprooting your life and Zoie’s, rebuilding, introducing new family and friends into her life and yours. That’s a lot of change for anyone. You didn't know what you were going to find. That took a huge amount of courage. And I know you did it for Zoie and I respect that.” You took a quick breath. “But it really means a lot that you shared what you did. I know you didn't need to. So, thank you for this."

Your eyes drifted away before returning to her.

"I don’t exactly know what the future holds. But, I know that if I’m a part of Jessie’s life, I’m a part of Zoie’s. And I want you to know I don’t take that for granted. You've raised a really, really special girl. Zoie's wonderful. And even if I’ve been in and out of the picture, I really do care about her. A lot. I mean, she's great - full stop. But she's also a part of Jessie, which means...," you trailed off, not quite ready to declare to her that by proxy alone you'd of course love Zoie.

You took a quick breath.

"Anyway, I'm sure this is no surprise to you, but Zoie's made Jessie's life infinitely better. So, please don’t ever feel bad for bringing Jessie into her life. That little girl deserves to have her mama in her life, and Jessie deserves her just the same.”

Sara smiled appreciatively, taking a moment of her own. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

Her gaze shifted over to the other room where Zoie was.

"And yeah, Zoie's pretty's amazing," she said as she faced you again. "I'm grateful for her. She was - certainly - a surprise. But an incredible one and I can't imagine my life without her now. And she just adores Jessie. If Zoie's made Jessie's life infinitely better, well Jessie has 1000% done the same for Zoie. I'm grateful to have her presence in Zoie's life."

Her tone was earnest already, but it grew more-so and she held your gaze pointedly. "There's lots of room for you in that life too, if you want it."

You were about to respond when you heard your name yelled from across the house.

"That's your cue," Sara said under her breath with a laugh.

You turned to see Zoie haphazardly climbing down off of Jessie and running towards you. Your attention was split between Zoie sprinting your direction and Jessie standing there shell-shocked, two other kids still hanging off of her.

"Happy birthday!" You greeted with a bright smile as your mind righted itself. You extended the gift to Zoie, but she bypassed it, running straight into your legs in a tight hug, sending you back a step with the force behind it. You laughed, reaching an arm down to embrace her.

"Zoie, my God," Sara laughed. "Take it easy, sweetie."

"You came!" Zoie exclaimed as she pulled back to look up at you.

"I couldn't miss your birthday," you told her as your hand came to her head affectionately. You knelt down in front of her and gave her a more fulsome hug.

"Mama, you invited her," Zoie smiled as she turned partially in your arms to look at Jessie with a laugh.

You looked up to see Jessie, now disentangled, tentatively approaching. Her mind obviously still processing everything. She looked between you and Sara perplexed, but a smile of awe and surprise crossed her face.

"I, um," Jessie stammered and Sara cut in.

"Honey, let's let mama and Y/N catch up. You'll get some more time with Y/N later, okay?" She said.

Zoie pulled back a touch, her arms still around you and pouted slightly. You held out the gift to her again.

"Here, this is for you. Why don't you go put it with the others," you said. The gift seemed the perfect distraction and she grabbed it and ran to Sara's side.

"What do you say?" Sara prompted her, disbelieving and mouthing you an apology.

"Thank you!" Zoie said with a toothy grin before running off once more.

Jessie was just closing the space when you rose to your feet, now face to face with her. Her eyes searched you in wonder, that smile still tugging at her mouth.

"W-what are you doing here?" She asked, eyes curious and hopeful.

"Sara invited me," you answered. Jessie's expression changed immediately and her head snapped around to look in the direction the woman had departed. She looked back to you right away with a frown.

"It's all good," you said as you nervously tucked your hair behind your ear. "She, um, she told me that Zoie wanted to invite me. She said you wouldn't - but I know why."

Jessie opened her mouth to defend herself and you held up a hand, gently coaxing her to stop.

"You're not mad that I showed up, are you?" You asked, though a faint smile pulled at your lips. Jessie did a double-take, adamantly shaking her head.

"No. Oh my God. No, of course not," she readily assured you. She frowned before giving an airy laugh. She took a moment to find her words, her cheeks growing red. "I'm...I'm very happy that you showed up."

"I wondered if you might be. Hence why I didn't say anything when you were away," you said, a playful smile now finally crossing your face.

She smiled wider with another shake of her head. "Yeah. Wait, when did this all happen?"

"This week. You were already at your parents' with Zoie," you relayed. She nodded slowly, an adorable frown on her face as she put the pieces together.

"And, thanks for texting me while you were away," you added. "It was nice to get updates. Felt like I was almost there sometimes," you finished more shyly than you'd intended. She gave you a grateful smile.

"Of course. You were-" she stopped for a second, centering herself and giving a nod as she offered you a quiet smile. "You were missed."

You nodded, much the same as her and wearing a quiet smile of your own.

You felt light.

"Okay. Well, this is Zoie's day, so I don't want to get too deep into things. But," you said slowly, your gaze drifting away momentarily before you smiled at Jessie once more, "if you'd like to take me up on that offer to talk, you could ask me out for coffee sometime." You held her gaze and added in emphasis. "Not as friends."

Jessie stood before you and you could see quiet shock come over her. Her eyes didn't leave yours, but you could see them dart across your face, looking for any signal of a misunderstanding.

Her eyes started to well and she let out a breath that sounded more like a stifled sob.

"Are you serious?" She asked, her eyes shimmering further as her eyebrows furrowed together, her emotions plain.

You smiled softly back at her and simply nodded.

"I mean, I could ask you out if you like," you said before you rest a hand on your hip and tapped your lips facetiously. "Hmm, you seem like someone who would like...[whatever we think Jessie's coffee of choice is]."

Jessie let out a watery laugh as she stepped forward and pulled you into her arms, hugging you tightly to her. You reciprocated immediately as you laughed gently in her ear.

"Oh my god," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she rocked you in place.

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes as she stepped back. Her face was bright red as she looked at you and your heart felt like it could burst.

"W-will you go out for coffee with me?" She asked, a slight stutter in her voice as she rode out her emotions. She laughed, wiping at another stray tear. "On a date."

You nodded readily, echoing her soft laugh.

"I'd love to."

"Mama?"

You both glanced down to see Zoie coming up, tugging lightly on Jessie's pant leg and looking up at her very concerned.

"What's wrong?" Zoie asked, looking so worried.

Jessie nearly started crying again. She gave a tearful laugh and bent down to scoop Zoie up into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetie. I promise," she said as she kissed Zoie's cheek. "I'm not sad. I'm great. I'm really happy. These are happy tears," she said with a sniffle as she held her close.

Zoie seemed to contemplate Jessie's explanation. She watched her carefully, though still a bit confused.

"Well, what are you happy about?" Zoie inquired. Jessie's gaze flit over to you before returning back to her daughter's.

"Y/N and I were just having a good conversation. And it made me very happy," she said. "Sometimes people cry when they're happy."

Zoie was still skeptical.

"Well, what were you talking about?"

Jessie shot you a look and you stepped in.

“Your mama’s right, Zoie. Tears aren’t always sad,” you reinforced. “In this case? Just boring adult talk.”

“What adult talk?” Zoie asked innocently. With this amount of determined curiosity, she was certainly Jessie’s child.

"Coffee," you said flatly for effect. "Kind of boring? Right?" Zoie made a face and you smiled at her before distracting. "Hey, how has dance been?"

Zoie's eyes lit up and she wriggled in Jessie's arms to be let down. Jessie set her down with a laugh and Zoie grabbed you by the hand to pull you into a more open area.

"I want to teach you my routine," she said excitedly. "I tried to teach Mama, but she’s not very good at it," she relayed very matter of fact and you stifled a laugh.

Zoie began showing you her routine and you played along, following her disjointed, but enthusiastic motions.

When you weren't paying attention to Zoie's choreography, your eyes were drawn to Jessie who now leaned back against the wall watching you both with a weepy smile, wiping at her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie now and then.

As Zoie showed you the steps, her hair wispy and wild in a messy pony tail, her cheeks rosy, smiling up at you and looking so much like Jessie’s baby photos - you recalled what Jessie told you so many months ago.

“How can I look at her and feel like my life is ruined?”

That argument seemed like another life now. The sorrow and insidious pain that coursed through you every moment during that period was a mere memory now.

As you smiled down at Zoie and over at Jessie who watched you both adoringly, you understood what Jessie meant. You felt it.

When you finished, Zoie ran off to rejoin her friends and Jessie approached you, still sniffling. She exhaled in self-effacing exaggeration.

"I'm a mess," she said.

"You're lovely," you countered without missing a beat.

Jessie shook her head slowly, looking at you with love like all the years before, but part of it felt new - deeper - as well.

"I love you so damn much," she said. She cracked a smirk a moment later. "That's totally appropriate to say before a first date, right?"

You laughed and you drew her into a kiss, soft and slow.

"Completely."

A/N: Not quite done yet. One more chapter.

Tag requests: @ryuushou @marvelwomen-simp @valuyhh

[thequeenofcurses]

The Devil In The Sanctuary

Prologue/Chapter 1

summary: mafia!sukuna x fem!reader. you’re the sheltered daughter of a pastor who finds your world turned upside down when a mysterious and dangerous man seeks refuge in your church. slowburn. eventual smut so mdni.

A/N I usually don't really yap or do trigger warnings in my stories (because I'm bad at them & personally I don't really get triggered by anything, but I understand this could upset other people), and I worked really hard on planning this fic. I don't want to offend anyone since religion is a key theme in this story. Y/n and her father are very devout. Originally the religion was going to be a real one (I won't name it), but I decided to use a fake and completely made up religion for the sake of not offending any one.

If that’s a problem or triggering for you, I don’t recommend reading this fic! <3

tws: violence, gore, blood, religious themes and criticism, character death, eventual smut, slowburn

masterlist | jjk masterlist | read on AO3

The faint glow of the setting sun filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting shards of crimson, gold, and violet light across the worn wooden pews. The air was quiet, heavy with the scent of melting candle wax and old hymnal books. The faint creak of your footsteps echoed in the vast, empty sanctuary as you moved down the aisle, your broom scraping softly against the stone floor.

It was nearly six pm, and the world outside the church was cloaked in darkness, save for the dim street lights flickering in the distance. Daylight was constantly getting stolen from you with the new winter sun. The wind whispered through the cracks in the heavy oak doors. The roof finally stopped leaking since the snow started to melt.

You hummed softly under your breath as you swept away dust that seemed to perpetually settle no matter how often you cleaned. Even though you disliked chores, this was one of your favorite times — the stillness of the evening when the world seemed to fade away, leaving only you, the church, and the faint presence of something divine. You’d often sing in the sanctuary when cleaning because no one was around to hear you.

You paused for a moment, resting on the broom handle as you gazed up at the towering crucifix at the altar. You remembered your parents putting it up the day before your family opened the church to the public when you were a small child. Its shadow loomed large and solemn against the wall, a quiet reminder of faith and sacrifice. A sigh escaped your lips.

And that’s when you heard it, glass breaking? You froze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Another sound came again, louder this time, echoing from the side entrance of the church. Was someone breaking into the church? It’s not like you guys had much to steal. The building was falling apart day by day.

Your heartbeat quickened as you turned your gaze toward the darkened corridor, where the faintest flicker of movement caught your eye.

“Hello? Father?” you called out, voice trembling slightly as it broke the sacred silence. Maybe father came back early from his conference? You think to yourself. But why would he come through the back or side entrance?

No answer. Just the soft groan of the creaky floorboards, and then… nothing.

“No weapon formed against me shall prosper,” you quietly murmur to yourself while making a cross with your right hand. You take the broom and head down the corridor to the back of the church. You believe in helping people, but you’re mama didn’t raise a fool.

When you reach what appears to be the shattered window, the only thing you find is a brick at your feet and broken multi-colored stained glass. That window—your grandfather’s work. But that’s not all you find. Red dots that seem to be have dripped. You and your father haven't touched this hallway yet. Could that really be… blood? Cautiously, you followed the trail, firmly grasping the broom with every step.

The scent of iron floods your nose. You stare in shock as the pools of blood seem to only grow further. The trail leads you to the restroom and that’s when you find a red giant hand print on the door knob.

Oh, Celestials grant me mercy! 

Most doors in this building were so old, they could never fully shut. You say a silent prayer to yourself and use your broom to poke at the door to softly push it open.

And that’s when you see him on the bathroom floor. 

The Devil.

A/N Please tell me your thoughts on this! This is my first ever Mafia AU/anything, so I will gladly take any constructive feedback!

masterlist | jjk masterlist

[tarotlexa]

PICK A PILE READING- what does your pet want to tell you?

welcome back my loves, i wanted to thank my wonderful community/readers for participating in my poll (the results were all pretty much the same with the pet reading winning by 34%, i am so glad to see that everyone is interested in different topics that my mind comes up on the spot with). thank you, thank you and thank you again for your support, your love and the kindness you have shown towards me. <3

as always my love, this is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what does not. much loveee <3

⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　. .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　* 　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　 　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　 　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　.　　　　.　　　⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　 　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　. 　.⠀　　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀, 　　　*　　⠀. 　　　　　.　　　　　　　　　　⠀✦ 　˚　　　　　　　　　　　　　　* .⠀ 　　　　　　　　　　.　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　    　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀✦ ⠀ ⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* ⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　　　　　　　.　　　ﾟ .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ 　　　　　,　　　　　　　. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　. .　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　   　　　,　　　　　　　　　* 　　　　　⠀　　　　⠀　　, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　 　　⠀　　　⠀.　 　　˚　　　⠀　⠀  　　,　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀  　　　　　⠀✦⠀　 　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　.　　　　.　　　 　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　 　　　˚　　　　　　　　ﾟ　　　　　. 　.⠀　⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀‍⠀, 　　　　　✦⠀　   　　　,

pile 1: this could be a very observant, curious, likely younger pet. i'm feeling parrot/cat energy (or if it's a dog they might not look much like one lol). extremely intelligent, alert, they LOVE watching you or follow you around just because. they might be the type of pet that tilts their head at you when you talk, follows your every move, or even seems to anticipate your emotions before you express them. they are fast and sometimes restless—always needing mental stimulation. perhaps they’re the type to zoom around the house unexpectedly or respond quickly to sudden noises. what your pet wants you to know: i love our little routines, i love it when YOU feed me, thank you for giving me tasty treats, please stop doubting your passions, follow your newfound hobbies, i see the way you light up when you start practicing those hobbies, please stop bedrotting so much, move more, i love the way that you engage with me, please play with me more. (this was so sweet it almost made me cry ahhh please play with your baby <3)

pile 2: this is definitely a dog and not just a dog but a soulmate companion who was sent on earth specifically for you, medium to large sized, floppy ears, on the rounder side or VERY well-fed hahahaha

they are incredibly loyal, deeply attached to you and you specifically (even if you live with other people), they always wait for you by the door to greet you. i'm literally about to cry rn because they LOVE nostalgia, things that remind them of your scent like your socks, your blanket, your pillow. what this pet wants you to know: you don't need to fight so hard to prove yourself, they might not understand you the way that you think they do (related to parents specifically?) so don't take it personal, you are enough as you are, i understand even if you don't say things out loud, i'll always be right here for you, i watch over you all the time even if you don't realize it, i'm your protector, please trust yourself more, you are my home. :')

pile 3: this pet has been through something heavy, might be a rescue or a pet with some trust issues related to their past. they tend to absorb your energy and that's why they might seem to be sad sometimes, they want to help you heal. probably an older soul, i'm picking up more of a cat vibe. thin, fragile, worn frame, might have some aging signs. very slow and deliberate movement. they're sensitive, intuitive and they act a bit like your shadow, always nearby but never demanding. they are your healer. what your pet wants you to know rn: you don't have to follow the rules so much, you are meant for more, i don't want you to hold onto guilt or regrets or words that hurt you in the past, you are so much more loved than you realize, thank you for being my friend, i love it when you brush me, please take care of yourself the way you take care of me, you deserve softness too, you're my baby (not me literally crying right now i'm never doing pet readings again, i am too attuned to their energy ahhh), i love the way you love me, please share your thoughts with me, trust me with your emotions, i am here for you, also i don't like your toothpaste (THIS IS SO RANDOM I KNOW).

as always, thank you so much for reading. let me know if this resonated with you <3

[annalacerda17]

I'd argue a sacrifice that is made when one isn't sound of mind nor aware of the consequences and willing to bear them isn't a sacrifice at all, JC was just being stupid.

He was grieving, and hadn't been in a state of mind where he was able to reason. He didn't make a decision with clarity of mind, fully understanding the consequences. He just heard the Wens were going to the place where WWX was and ran in their direction. I've always viewed it as a suicide attempt. I think JC was grieving his parents and his sect, he didn't know what to do with himself since his sense of identity was tied to being a sect heir but now he had no sect to be the heir of, and had no means to seek revenge - remember, at this point the Wens were winning the war with overwhelming force and the opposite side seemed pitifully weak. With no options left, and considering JC is not a particularly resilient person, I think he saw an excuse to die without looking like a coward and took it. I don't even think he actually wanted to die, but he wasn't in a normal state of mind, and it's actually something that happens in the real world - grief can really mess up someone's ability to function, especially when it's still raw and is made worse by the loss of an entire way of life, of all the structure that would normally help the person deal with grief.

That's why JC reacted the way he did when he was rescued and found out he'd lost his golden core. He wasn't relieved that WWX was fine, he never told anyone about how he was captured. JC has consistently held every little thing he could grasp against WWX, except this one thing. Why? Because he was ashamed. He was ashamed because he knew he was actually trying to die and felt it made him look weak. It didn't matter that no one else would know, JC himself did.

Well, that's my interpretation.

for me, nothing at all changes about jiang cheng’s end-of-canon circumstances by the reveal that he distracted the guards that led to his capture by the wens after the lotus pier attack and the reason for it is simple: you can’t be redeemed by something you did before you committed your wrongdoing. the change of character and growth needs to happen after you fucked up. his prior “good” choices/“heroic” acts do NOT make him a better person in hindsight because he went ahead and acted like a piece of shit later on, anyway. it’s like saying a murderer should be pardoned because they saved a bird from dying ten years ago or that they donated to charity that one time, “omg look they had a good heart <3”. even the text treats it like this afterthought, contextually, because by the time any of it would be revealed—it’d have been way too late for anything to change. a history of violence and hate cannot be erased nor reduced by an action taken in good faith (if not good sense) before this history ever began.

redemption happens as a response to your choices in the aftermath of your fuck-ups (or in some cases, the narrative effectively nullifies the wrongdoing itself which leads to a blank slate/redemption; but that is NOT the case with jc), not as callback from the distant past when you were perhaps a less shitty person. many think jc revealing this “secret” would be significant in some way. but... how exactly would you expect wei wuxian to react to this revelation? show gratitude after jc’s choice inevitably led to the loss of his golden core? be happy that his once-buddy cared for him before jc contributed to his death and the death of the wens and the death of countless other innocents? imagine someone once close to you lied and betrayed your trust and say, framed you wrongfully so you got jailed. later, they recount how they kicked your bully in the balls when you were both in school. okay...? how the FUCK does that change anything? you are STILL in jail?

jc’s prior good will means nothing after the bridges he’s burned to the ground, burying them twenty feet under. and he knows this. he knows that revealing the truth will make no dents. wei wuxian won’t have a better view of him just because of it. jiang cheng’s actions do not gain a softer edge. the redeeming action has to come after the tragedies he has helped with and participated in. he’s not magically a better person with this context. he’s just as who he was before. because what we are evaluating his morals on was not his supposed love/care for wei wuxian but his actions. his violence. his hatred that targetted people unjustly. these do not change. these don’t go away. these should not go away. these should not be as easy to go away. that’s all.

[kaiasky]

idk whenever somebody equates empathy w/ moral good or like ability to be compassionate or moral or whatever im just like. ???? fucking how

bc like maybe I will reluctantly agree that empathy is helpful to 1) have an intuition for what other ppl are feeling 2) to intuitively develop a moral sense that other people's feelings matter. (if I think abt stealing ur bike I think how it'd feel if somebody stole mine so I don't do it.) 3) connected to 1. I think it might make u a better gift-giver or something.

but like. idk the first thing you learn as a kid about empathy is how to suppress it about certain types of people right. you're walking to school and there's a man shouting and he looks really angry and you ask your parents if we should talk to him and see what's the matter, and ur parents hustle you along and inform you that we don't need to worry about why every stranger is mad sometimes it's just best to leave people alone because they could be dangerous.

so fucking from the jump, empathy is, like disgust or beauty, a terrible way to decide who matters or what is right etc. but idk that's kinda aside the point I'm getting at.

the point is like. whenever I feel empathy it is 100% a negative towards my ability to act in a compassionate manner. like. somebody tells me "everything is awful and there's no escape I can see and it hurts just being alive" and. does empathy tell me what they need me say??

no the fuck it does not. empathy makes me flighty and scared like the walls are closing in because I remember that feeling.

and it makes me want to say "you're right! it is fucking hopeless, I had forgotten for a while but now I remember". and it makes me want to say "I remember when I was in this place and there is nothing I can say or do that will offer more than a brief splash in the pool of darkness. sorry."

And if I stop maintaining a active hold on my emotions, I start to echo all the negative emotions somebody feels back @ them in my voice & body language.

so like. the best way I know right now to cheer somebody up is to be understanding but to suppress the empathetic response and be relentlessly cheerful and try and infect them with that or at least use that cheer to distract them into doing something that is engaging.

idk. It's possible I experience empathy kinda different than other ppl. like am definitely not the most emotionally intelligent person. maybe for other ppl it's less overwhelming or picks up more subtleties or something. but even then even if it is a little more useful to other people I kinda cannot ever imagine it being an actually useful thing that helps you be Good??

[snoopyhq]

Hi it's me again I'm glad to hear that also I have a request so my request is a Vander x wife reader where reader and Vander are in an argument is not two bad but it's still a little argument and the kids think their parents are going to be in a divorce until Vander and the reader explain that they're not going to be a divorce and it's all fluff at the end what do you think sorry to bother you by the way. 😊

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ so take your gloves and get out!

type: vander x wife reader

summary: a couple's spat inadvertently has the little ones worried about the future of your family (but it all ends up alright)

word count: 993

a/n: had one of the best days ever with my friends today, i can't even be sad about my bum ass ex anymore. everyone cheer!

Goodnight, Vi. Goodnight, Powder. Sleep tight girls.

You quietly close the doors to the children's room. Once you were certain they were safely tucked in and asleep, you made your way back to the room you shared with you husband.

There was always the faint scent of bourbon in the air, an inescapable thing given that you two ran a bar together. You sink down on the mattress and let out a weary sigh, closing your eyes. A tired smile graced your face as the familiar brush of stubble and soft lips brushed against your cheek.

"Have you thought more about it?" he asks, settling down beside you.

You chewed the inside of your cheek.

"I did. I'm still not happy about it."

He nods, waiting for you to continue.

"They're still so young, Vander, and even if we do end up agreeing about it? Is it safe. What if something happens and we aren't there to help them?"

"I know they're young, and your worries are valid, love. But we can't hold them back forever. They'll be in good hands and living a better life than we can give them here," he replies.

He was thinking ahead for the future. You both want the best for your children, and what Vander was proposing would be the most favorable outcome. You couldn't help but oppose it, even if a deeper part of you agrees. As you mull over your options, the sudden image of your kids floated across your mind.

How tiny they were, swaddled in the layers of threadbare blankets, their small fingers reaching for yours. Powder's watery eyes when she wanted something and knew you would fold. Vi's subtle look to you for approval as she did her best to wrangle her rowdy siblings, especially Milo. Claggor's sweet smile as he hovers around you, always eager to help.

These images sent a sharp pang through your chest, and you found yourself suddenly consumed with a crushing dread.

"No, Vander. We can't let them go to Piltover. Absolutely not!"

You got up, throwing the blanket off. You pace in circles back and forth, shaking your head adamantly.

"No more arguments. I've made up my mind."

"Wait. You can't just give a definite no without discussing it more with me. What's changed?" now he was standing up too, wanting to understand, and you tried not to raise your voice.

It wasn't fair to get so up in arms like this, you knew. You had never believed yourself to be much of the parenting type, but ever since the kids came into your custody, you had developed a fierce protectiveness that extended beyond any realm of explanation. Was this how your parents felt when they had you? You could only hope. They weren't around to ask now, and you were determined to never let the children wonder what you are right now.

You don't remember everything you said next, but you do remember it leading to something heavier. Neither of you could separate personal feelings from the argument, and it got bad. Bad enough that it sent Powder, who had been lurking outside, straight to Vi, panicking about how,

"They're fighting, and Vander sounds so mad," she sobbed. "We're being sent away to Piltover!"

"To Piltover? Are you sure that's what you heard?" Milo scoffed.

"Yes! Why would I lie about that!" Powder shouts, on the verge of completely crumbling.

For once, he didn't have anything mean to say back.

"We could go ask them right now," Claggor suggests, even as the tremor in his voice gives away his belief in the worst.

Gathering up their courage and best brave act, the kids marched to your bedroom and let themselves in. That stopped you and Vander, and you were faced with four little faces, each one unable to look you in the face.

"What's wrong?" you asked, kneeling to be eye level with them.

"If you're going to send us away, at least let us decide where we want to go," Vi speaks. Always the leader.

You and Vander exchanged confused looks.

"We're not sending you away Vi," Vander says gently. "Why would you say that?"

In the background, Milo scowls. I told you so, his body language read.

"I heard you! Vander wants to send us to Piltover," Powder exclaims, her hand tightening in Vi's.

"We'll stop getting in so much trouble. Don't send us away," Claggor blurts out.

What? Oh, no.

You and Vander immediately gathered up the kids, two in each of your arms, and held them close. Whatever harsh words you wanted to exchange with each other could wait. Right now, the precious beings you were cradling were much more important.

"No one's going anywhere. You kids, your dad, or me. We just had to talk about something important, that's all," you explained.

"Talk about what?"

"Something that can be discussed when you're older. We want your input on it too, but it's not time yet."

"So you're not splitting up? Right?" Milo asks, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

You stifled your laugh.

"No dear, Vander and I aren't leaving you or each other anytime soon."

"Or ever," he adds, kissing you and earning a round of 'eughs' and 'bleh!'.

That's when you finally laughed.

"Ok, that's enough excitement for tonight. Everyone back to you room," you started to escort them out, but none of them budged. Not even Powder, who had let go of Vi's hand and was now standing firm on her own.

"I see how it is," you smiled. "One time only. Come here."

It was a tight fit, the six of you piled onto one bed. There were a flurries of complaints and kicking limbs, but eventually, everyone settled down. You and Vander faced each other while the children slept, sandwiched in between. Safe. Protected.

"We'll talk about it again later," you whisper. "But not tonight."

"Not right now," he agreed.

"Goodnight, Vander."

"Goodnight, love."

[waynes-readingverse]

Truly a perfect (and realistic) ending to a wonderful series! This was such a magical ride from beginning to end! Your writing really took me to a different world here, Alex!! 😍💜🌌

And oh boy, my heart was beating fast in my chest when Michael stormed her hotel room, and Sam and Dean weren't there yet. I was glad his anger simmered down a little, but of course, seeing her with Dean then later turned the heat right up again 🙈

“Darling, are you…you scared of me or something?” he asked incredulously. “I know I’ve been working late, not coming home when I say I will sometimes, but have I ever raised a hand to you? Not even once, right?”

The nerve... 🤌🙄

“Her maiden name is Joanna Beth Harvell,” you revealed. “Brady Johnson isn’t her brother, Michael. You’ve been paying to sleep with another man’s wife.”

The fact Dolores was Jo blew my mind! 🤯 Up until that point, I had made an OC for her in my head lmao

But man, Dean storming in all heroic had my knees weak, girl 😍😍

“You take your hands off me before I tear you apart,” Michael hissed. Dean’s face was full of cold fire, with a threat thinly veiled underneath. “Lay another hand on her, and I’ll break every bone you got left.”

Such a pissing contest, and I'm loving it lol

Once Sam showed the numbers and records, written in Michael’s own painstaking hand, your husband’s face went ashen.

GO SAM!!! 😎

And for a moment, everyone was happy then, right? But damn if my heart didn't drop during this scene:

“Sam’s gonna keep watching out for you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything,” he said. Your smile fell. “You’re still going back to Kansas?”

You had me so worried!! I was afraid we'd end up in, I don't know, 1968? And they're both married with kids to other people... But I was real glad it was only a few months. Seriously, thank fucking God, you didn't rip my heart out. Phew... 😆

I totally understand why Dean left, though. It wasn't the right time for them, and she needed to deal with her divorce first and Dean with his... demons lol, and that's why I loved this so much! Because it wasn't clean-cut, and Michael wasn't giving up so easily, and she still struggled with her feelings, and all of it made sense and kept it realistic. Truly loved that! 🥹🫶

And I knew from the start when I read the chapter title that the "dried ink" would both refer to her divorce papers and a new marriage certificate 😂💕

“I’m not another man,” Dean said. His tone was firm, but also imploring, willing you to hear him. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “I’m me and you’re you. It’s not about Michael, or anyone else right now but us. And you’ve gotta know…sweetheart, you’ve gotta know that I’m not him.”

That broke me... The reassurance he gives her? Gah 💀

“For marrying another man they’ve never met, scarcely two minutes after the ink dried, so to speak,” you said, using his words. 

I also died that she got married so quickly again for a second time! I'd understand her parents' concern lol. Luckily, she met Dean the second time around, or this is the kind of hopeless romanticism that becomes dangerous fast 😂

“For the money. I’m thinking that after all this, you want to stick closer to home, be near your family,” he said. “I’ve got nothing tying me down over there besides the house, so I figure we can use the money to buy one here. With whatever’s left, I could try to start an auto repair shop. Nothing big to start. Just a space big enough for the work. I’m not picky about it. Your uncle could send me the stragglers from his tows, if he’s agreeable to it.”

This was such a smart idea of him, and I loved that he wanted her to be closer to her family! 😍 Surely also scoring brownie points with the in-laws lol

“You better not stop, Sergeant,” you whispered.  When he chuckled, you felt it deep in your chest. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, shortly before he claimed your lips again. The train rode on.

Oooof, and that was such a perfect way to end it, too 😮‍💨

Like I said, I hope they truly live happily ever after with a bunch of kids running around the yard, Dean grilling, and her baking apple pie. They deserve it 🥹❤️

Such a fantastic journey, friend!!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Ready for an angsty-fun filled finale? 😘💖

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “The Very Thought of You” by Tony Bennett

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, tense situations, protective Dean, hurt/comfort, fluff, and spice.~

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 5: Dried Ink

Dean slammed the payphone back on the hook in frustration. He’d tried calling twice from the train station and couldn’t get you at home. It was getting late in the evening and he knew you were off work already. Where the hell did you go?

“She could’ve packed up and left him already,” Sam said. “I gave her the number of a decent hotel I know over in the Village.”

Dean reluctantly stepped aside for the next person waiting to use the phone. The sound of his train clicking by fast on the tracks echoed in the station. A gust of wind shoved at the brothers' backs, ruffling their long coats, as well as Sam's hair.

“You think she did it that quick?” Dean asked.

“One way to find out,” Sam said. “Come on. I’ve got my car waiting.”

It was so very strange to watch the bellman bring your suitcases inside your new room. You’d only ever stayed in a hotel once, for your honeymoon in Philadelphia. Michael took you to the Walnut Street Theater there, and among other things, to see the Liberty Bell. It had reminded both of you about the true cost of freedom.

You let that thought slip away from you with a shake of your head as you started unpacking, hesitantly at first. It almost didn’t feel real.

Fortunately, after sampling from a bottle of scotch you’d found under Michael’s side of the bed (and slipped into your suitcase), you began to settle into the idea. You took a break from hanging up your dresses in the closet to peer out the window to the narrow, busy streets below the fifth floor. Everything looked so small down there, so far away. In time, maybe the heaviness in your heart would feel that far away too.

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. It could be Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you. “I come home with flowers, two tickets to see a show, ready to take my wife out to dinner, only to find the apartment half empty. Not to mention a letter that…frankly, cut me to down to the core.”

His anger lessened then, turning into dismay; the kind that you never would have expected to see in his eyes. Not after how he’d been acting for the past few months. He came closer and grabbed hold of you by the shoulders. When you tensed and expelled a shaky breath, he blinked in surprise.

“Darling, are you…you scared of me or something?” he asked incredulously. “I know I’ve been working late, not coming home when I say I will sometimes, but have I ever raised a hand to you? Not even once, right?”

You drew enough courage to meet his eyes, so blue, for once so earnest. It made you sick. Because the man he was when he was sober was more like the one you married. Only, you felt the true version of him was more akin to a sleeping dragon, lying in wait to be provoked.

“Neither of us have to lie anymore and pretend this is a marriage. At least, not one worth saving,” you said. “I know, Michael. I know about Dolores…or should I say, Joanna.”

Michael paused. His head cocked as disbelief crossed his features. He stared down at you almost without blinking.

“Did you know her real name was Joanna Johnson?” you asked. “Ring any bells with Brady Johnson, the man you’ve been paying to keep her company?”

Michael frowned. “He’s her brother. He pays her bills—”

“No,” you shook your head. “Look in the folder sitting on the coffee table there.”

You gestured over to it with a nod of your head. Michael was drawn to the path of your gaze. When his morbid curiosity was too much, he finally let go of you to investigate the folder in question. You released a subtle sigh of relief. You began drifting over behind the couch and closer to the landline phone. It rested on a nearby accent table.   

Meanwhile, Michael sorted through the contents of the folder and all the information Sam had gathered for you. He’d made copies of all the evidence for your personal records, including the photos he took of Michael and Dolores.

“Her maiden name is Joanna Beth Harvell,” you revealed. “Brady Johnson isn’t her brother, Michael. You’ve been paying to sleep with another man’s wife.”

No one short of Clark Gable could fake the jolt of shock that crossed Michael’s face. You saw the truth of it in his eyes when he glanced up at you.

“I don’t know why it should bother you, seeing as you don’t seem to care much about wedding vows,” you couldn’t help but snark. You were no longer all that sad though. Somehow, that pitiful look on his face made you feel sorry for him.

Michael seemed to have swallowed his tongue. For a while, he couldn’t dislodge it from the roof of his mouth to speak. But when he did, it wasn’t with anything good to say.

“How did you get all this?” he asked.

Your spine stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over, Michael. I can’t do this anymore. You should be getting the divorce papers served to you by the morning—”

Your words were cut off when he rounded the corner of the couch, grabbing you by the arms again. This time, his grip was much firmer and made you gasp.

“What the hell is going on? Have you been spying on me?!” he raised his voice to new heights, shaking you once by your shoulders. “How long have you been planning to leave me?”

The words became choked in your throat along with your fear—one that paralyzed you, and made you feel sick with yourself, small and weak.

The door bursting open again startled you both, but it was Michael who grunted when he was heaved off of you by his shirt and waistcoat.

You stumbled and braced yourself against the back of the couch, but your widened eyes fell on the one man you never thought you’d see again.

“Dean,” you breathed.

He spared you a look of concern through his anger, but Michael soon commanded his attention by trying to break his hold. Dean reeled back his arm and delivered a solid punch that knocked the other man into the wall. Michael leaned heavily against it to keep himself upright, and he had to blink a few spots out of his eyes, not only grimacing at the ache in his cheek. That one blow had rattled through his skull, disturbing old injuries. He glared over at Dean.

“Who the hell are you?” Michael shouted. His shock only increased when he noticed Sam Winchester shutting the hotel room door behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m her lawyer, Mr. Milligan, and you’re hereby served,” Sam said.

He strode forward with a packet of papers. Michael took a purposeful step towards him, but Dean shoved Michael back against the wall. It allowed Sam to place the packet in Michael’s disbelieving hand.

Dean went over to you then, giving you a meaningful once-over as you held yourself. He softened when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“You all right?” he said quietly, laying a hand on the small of your back. You still couldn’t quite speak, but you nodded at him gratefully, tucking a wily strand of hair behind your ear.

Michael took notice of it once he peeled his eyes from the divorce papers, and up at you and Dean. Michael’s lips pursed as his posture became even more tense and irate.

“I’m not signing this,” he said, tossing the folder onto the coffee table beside the evidence of his infidelity. He met your wary gaze. “Look, I’m not saying I’ve been a perfect husband, but you’re my wife. That still means something to me. We can…we can still work this out.”

Against your will, hot tears burned in your eyes, and your mouth trembled. The men watched you closely.

You shook your head.

“No. We can’t,” you said. “You’re not the man I thought I married.”

In those blue eyes, you thought you saw the shine of a breaking heart. But all too quickly, it turned into anger and denial. Michael meant to cross the narrow distance between you with a threat on his mind and tight coiling of his entire frame. Dean’s hand slid from your back as he stepped in between, fisting a hand in the other man’s dress shirt and pressing there hard.

“You take your hands off me before I tear you apart,” Michael hissed.

Dean’s face was full of cold fire, with a threat thinly veiled underneath. “Lay another hand on her, and I’ll break every bone you got left.”

“Dean,” you gasped, reaching out for him. His backward glance at you warned you to stay where you were.

Michael became even more incensed. Again, he was noticing the familiarity between you and this man invading his space, threatening him, and standing between him and his wife. Before he could open his mouth to protest, Sam finally spoke up again.

“If you don’t take that file and leave now, peacefully, then this isn’t the only one of your affairs that’s going to come to light,” Sam said.

Michael hesitated. He glanced over at Sam with an angry raise of his brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know very well what it means,” Sam replied. He picked up the folder of evidence he gave you and slipped out a few documents that highlighted an audit of Milligan Meats.

“How does a family business stay so incredibly lucrative during one of the worst times for meat production since the Depression?” Sam wondered aloud. “Maybe it has something to do with those connections you made in Philadelphia, greasing hands like Vondich, from Pittsburg. Or accepting kickbacks from the Torelli family to stock their restaurants with higher quality beef. Who knew that your father had deep, shall we say intimate ties, to one of the biggest mafia families in New York City?”

Once Sam showed the numbers and records, written in Michael’s own painstaking hand, your husband’s face went ashen.

“How did you get this?” he said. Then, as it dawned on him, he looked over at you in betrayal. You hadn’t known about the Torellis, but Sam had been able to sort the last five years of audits for himself, thanks to your investigation of Michael’s office.

“I did my own digging, Mr. Milligan,” Sam said, earning back his attention. “Your wife’s only part in this was asking for my help in securing her divorce. As you can see, I’m very thorough. And these aren’t my only copies of this information. I’m fully prepared to take it to the authorities, today.”

His lie was to protect you, just as much as Dean physically putting himself between you and Michael was. You didn’t know if Michael entirely bought the lie, but eventually, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

He grabbed the papers from Sam’s hand, pivoted on his heel, and turned to leave. However, Michael stopped at the doorway to look back at you.

“This is really what you want?” he asked.

You nodded. “You know it is.”

With that confirmation, Michael took his heavy heart with him when he left.

Sam and Dean helped you repack your things. Neither of them trusted Michael to leave you alone now that he knew where you were. You didn’t want to make such a fuss, but they insisted on helping to put you up at a different hotel across town.

Sam took half of your belongings in his car, where he also had Dean’s one and only suitcase. Dean loaded the rest of your luggage in a taxicab and sat beside you, mostly staring out the window while he smoked. During the ride, you couldn’t help but glance at him every so often. You noted his profile, handsome as always, except now you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking.

“Dean,” you said quietly. It earned you his attention, as his eyes roamed over you from your familiar beige jacket to your favorite burgundy lipstick.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I am,” you nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thank you.”

You tried to convey deeper things with your words, and you thought Dean read your meaning. He hesitated for a moment, but he took up your hand and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“Sam’s gonna keep watching out for you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything,” he said.

Your smile fell. “You’re still going back to Kansas?”

Dean held your gaze for a long moment, and let out a breath through his nose.

“Nothing’s changed, sweetheart. I’m still a man with a lot to make of himself, and you’re still a married woman, even without the ring,” he said, gesturing to your left hand held in his. “It’s not the right time for us…and I’m not asking you to wait for me to get my act together. It’s not fair to you.”

You were quiet for a while. The cab’s tires continued rolling over bits of gravel in the street, the honking horns and other pocketed sounds of the city falling into a background symphony. You glanced up at Dean, meeting his eyes once more.

“I don’t regret anything,” you told him, squeezing his hand. “I could never.”

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. “Me either, baby. Not for all the world.” 

He held your hand until the taxi stopped in front of the hotel. Dean leaned over to open the door. He helped you out of the car, but there, he let you go.

You supposed you’d have to be strong enough to walk alone this time.

March 1946

Four months later, it was official. 

Oh, Michael sure made it difficult. Sam did make a point to keep an eye on you though. He even hired a client and friend, Benny Lafitte, to accompany you to and from work every day. The burly man was an intimidating presence, but he was kind and respectful. He made you feel safer, especially in the evenings when he kept watch of your apartment for a while, sat out front in his car.

Michael was tenacious. He likely used his connections through town, however nefarious they might be, to find out where you were staying again. He continued to show up outside your hotel room. 

Nonetheless, when he sat up against your door all night and realized that you wouldn’t budge, the anger finally drained out of Michael. The exhaustion and guilt set in, perhaps not for the first time. 

Then, he drunkenly apologized through the closed door, not knowing you were leaning in on the other side of it. It wasn’t the kind of apology that meant anything, you thought, but the kind that meant to let him save face in your eyes, to persuade you into softening. 

You didn’t soften, even though he tried everything to get you to reconsider. He tried gentle words and grandiose gestures, even so far as getting down on his knees outside the door and begging—something you’d never seen him do, not once. Part of you wanted to open the door just an inch if it allowed you to see that sight.

Your tears came, but not because your heart was easing up to him. Your heart was breaking again, knowing this was the end. 

He tried reminding you of how difficult it would be for you afterwards, how it might affect your family, your job, everyone’s perception of you. More importantly to him, it would affect how people saw him, a man divorced after barely a year. 

Somehow, you found the strength to speak to him slowly from inside the door. 

“It’s already done, Michael. And so am I,” you said. “After I saw you and Dolores together with my own eyes, I…I was intimate with another man. I didn’t do it to hurt you, but I still did it.”

His silence was deafening. Not being able to see him actually made this easier though. You sighed.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t go back to us,” you said, “because that would be a lie.”

You couldn’t see it, but his face tightened as angry tears filled his eyes. He felt the weight of his decisions like never before, along with a pulsing, phantom pain in his skull that alcohol could no longer dull. Dimly, he remembered the man he used to be, before. He remembered having a shred of honor to his name, even before he married you. And he did that because he’d loved you. He was sure that he had, somehow…

“I am sorry, darling,” he croaked. “You have to know…”

You nodded, taking a breath to try and steady yourself. 

“I know,” you realized. As much as he was able to be, he was sorry.

He picked himself up from outside your door and walked away. He never returned after that.

In those four months, you resolved to move back to Sioux Falls. New York had become your home in the past year and a half you’d lived here, but it wasn’t who you were. You wanted a quieter life. A more peaceful life. 

You initially agreed to move to the city with Michael because you had wanted to please him, and make his transition back to civilian life easier in his familiar surroundings. You thought the two of you were building a life together.

New York City was still a heartbeat of a world, but it was no longer in your heart. 

Now, you were finishing up on packing your things at the hotel. You left for South Dakota tomorrow, and you already sent your last payment to Sam Winchester a few days ago, along with a handwritten letter thanking him for his help. You felt badly for not going to visit his office in person, but it would be too hard. You would be too tempted to ask about his brother. 

Dean.

Just the thought of his name made your heart constrict. You weren’t sure if it was only with pain, though you hoped he was doing well. You tried to remember that you had known him for barely a week. Your mind and your heart shouldn't be so taken up with him.

And yet.

He had seen you at your lowest, belly-to-the-ground low. He had brushed away your tears and hadn’t tried to flatter you with pretty words. He’d made you feel better with simple, raw honesty.

He gave you a window into his past, even though a soldier like him wouldn’t easily pry himself open for anyone, short of his own brother, you suspected. So you’d come to realize, whenever the memory of him greeted you after that day in the park, that he’d given you something special. Perhaps the best night of your life.

Your fingers paused on the brass doorknob to what had been your bedroom for the past few months. It was a modest one, complete with a kitchen and a small two-seater sofa.

Hotels were expensive, but your parents had been kind enough to send you some money to help you. They’d been dismayed to learn of the reasons behind your divorce, of course. They both had been against it at first, but when they heard your voice over the phone, along with the full story, they finally agreed to support you in what way they could, especially by welcoming you back home.

You were looking forward to seeing them. It had only been a couple of months since they’d come to the city for Christmas, but you were ready to go home to some familiarity, and to your family’s support. 

You shook your head to get yourself unstuck from all of that. You straightened the wrinkles out of your long skirt and adjusted the collar of your blouse. You had just come home from your last day of work not too long ago, so you supposed you would take a bath and get changed into something more comfortable before you finished packing. Your train left tomorrow, early in the morning.  

You were about to head into the bathroom when you heard a knock at the door. Frowning, you wondered who it could be. If it was Michael again, you were not opening the door, and you’d call the police for good measure if he stuck around. You were done entertaining him in every sense of the word. 

You went to the door and looked into the peephole. Your brows furrowed. You unlatched all three locks on the door and opened it to the room service maid.

“Hi, Bridget, how are you?” you greeted her.

“Oh, I’m doing well, ma’am. Sorry, I’m a bit behind today, but I’m here to clean the room.”

“Oh, well, now isn’t really a good time,” you said. You had duffel bags and suitcases open, with your clothes, a curling iron, and other things thrown about. Not to mention, you had a leftover sandwich sitting half-eaten on the dining table with a nearly empty bag of chips.

“I’m afraid I can’t come back later,” said Bridget. She tended to talk with her hands, made more interesting by the fact that she held a broom with one hand, and pulled her cleaning cart with the other. “It’ll be too late, and then you’ll be asleep!”

“Look, I’ll just clean tonight, and you can come back tomorrow after I leave. How does that sound?” you suggested.

“All right, if that’s how you want it,” Bridget said with a shrug. She threw her broom on the cart and started pushing it down the hall. She still called back to you over her shoulder, “Goodnight, ma’am! Safe travels for your trip home.”

You shook your head with a weary smile. “Thank you. Goodnight!”

You closed the door behind you and reset all the locks in place. Releasing a heavy sigh, you supposed you should get back to packing. You turned to do just that, when there came another knock on the door. This time it was a heavier sound.

“For God’s sake. What is it now?” you groused.

You went back to look into the peephole. This time, your mouth fell open in a gasp. You undid all the locks again with shaking hands, and you opened the door. There stood Dean Winchester. 

He looked nice. Dapper really, wearing a dark blue suit and tie over a crisp white shirt and blue waistcoat underneath. His hair was combed and gelled and parted to the right, and he smelled faintly of a woodsy cologne.

He also looked just as stricken to see you. His eyes were as green as you remembered, and they took in your form from head to toe. They returned to your face, softening slightly, and he smiled. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

God, his voice. It threatened to make you weak. 

You shook your head and managed to smile back at him. “What’re you doing here?”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s some welcome.”

“You know what I mean.” You reached out for him, and he took your hand, raising the back of it to his lips in a kiss. All the while, his eyes never left you. Your face flushed hotly, your heartbeat leaping in and out of rhythm. 

“I’m here to see you,” he said, matter of factly. As if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Your mouth ran dry. It was difficult to form words, but somehow you managed it.

“Would…would you like to come in then?” you offered. 

“I’d like nothing more,” he replied. 

The depths in his words made a tingle run down your spine, though you tried to hide your reaction to it. You let him in and shut the door behind you both. 

“So you’re headed home, huh?” he asked. He was sitting next to you on the couch with a soda you procured for him, and a cigarette in hand, yet to be lit. 

“Did Sam tell you?” you asked. 

Dean nodded, smiling ruefully. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

You ducked your head, a bit embarrassed. He tossed his unlit cigarette on the coffee table and tucked a finger under your chin. He raised your head until you met his eyes. 

“There she is,” he said softly. 

You sucked in a breath laden with emotion. Tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Why are you here, Dean?”

“I think you know,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

“I think you need to say it,” you replied, daring him with the directness of your gaze. His hand fell away from your chin, just to cup your cheek as he moved closer. You grabbed onto his arm in reflex.

“I told you, I had to see you,” he admitted. 

“Why? Why now?” you asked. “After what you said last time… For goodness’ sake, Dean. Why wait until I’m about to leave?”

“Because,” Dean said. He took a subtle breath, making himself relax. “Because I had to sort myself out, and I had to wait until the ink dried on those damn divorce papers. Because if I’d come any sooner, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.”

Hope dared to rise high in your throat. Your eyes flit over his face, and finally met his.

“From what?” you whispered.

Dean tilted his head to consider it. He bit into his lip, and then, he made a choice.

He kissed you with abandon. He kept kissing you, stealing your breath, finding new angles to devour you with. He robbed you of any coherent thought in your head the moment his tongue breached your lips to curl against yours. It was all you could do to keep up with him, but you grabbed onto his jacket and made indents in the fabric with your nails. His hands moved down your body to squeeze your waist, pulling you flush against him. You moaned into his mouth.

“Dean,” you said, half on a gasp, half on a whimper.

He managed to slow down for a moment. His hand came up to pet your hair.

“No matter what the hell I do, I’m selfish. I just…I can’t let you go,” he said, with furrowed brows.

You shook your head in dismay. “You didn’t need to, you know. I wouldn’t have let you take me home that night if I didn’t think you were a good man…and I certainly wouldn’t have invited you in.”

Your lips tugged at a smile, making Dean smirk as well. That memory had stayed with him too, usually on long nights alone in his house. He tried to remember the sweet smell of your perfume, the feeling of your soft skin, the sound of your pretty moans in his ear. Even now, the thought stirred the well of arousal inside him.

But also, there were other things he missed, like the sight of your smile, your sweeter voice, somehow gentle and strong all at once. He shook his head, thumbing at your cheek.

“The truth is, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the day I met you,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you.”

Your eyes blinked wide at him in shock. His face was steady and even, but his amusement was starting to peek through the longer he looked at you.   

“Pretty sure?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Well, I’m willing to be more definitive on the subject if you are,” he teased. 

You fought a smile, but you couldn’t quite help it. Still, doubt began to creep in from behind.

“I want to believe you,” you said quietly. “But part of me is afraid that these are all just pretty words. If I let another man—”

“I’m not another man,” Dean said. His tone was firm, but also imploring, willing you to hear him. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “I’m me and you’re you. It’s not about Michael, or anyone else right now but us. And you’ve gotta know…sweetheart, you’ve gotta know that I’m not him.”

You tried steadying yourself with a breath. Your watery gaze cut away from Dean, but he wouldn’t let you hide. He gently brought you back, once again guiding your chin. He swept the lone tear from your cheek.

“Please, just tell me the honest truth. Tell me how you feel about us, and I promise, I won’t take it for granted,” he said. He knew he was practically begging, sounding almost needy and weak, but he couldn’t walk away from you again. Not until he knew for sure what you could want from him…what you could want with him.

The seconds of waiting for your answer were more agonizing than the long hours he spent traveling back to New York.

Until finally, you spared him. You shook your head and raised a hand to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing over his plush lower lip.

“After you left, I thought about you every morning when I woke up. And I prayed for you every night before I went to sleep,” you said. “I’m pretty sure that means I love you too.”

Dean smiled. It was a soft, boyish smile that seemed too young for his face. You loved him all the more for it.

He leaned in…but he hesitated, stopping just shy of your lips.

“Look, I still don’t know if I can be the man you need,” he said. He looked into your eyes. “But I can promise to try, every day, and for the rest of our lives.”

Hot tears once again stung in your eyes, threatening to blur your vision.

“That’s all I could ask for, Dean,” you replied. “I’ll try for you too.”

He smiled slightly, holding you a little closer by your waist.

“Good, because my shoulder still hurts sometimes. Gonna need you to work another miracle or two.”

You laughed and nodded, your hand sliding back up his arm to rub the old injury in his shoulder.

“My specialty,” you teased.

His smile dimmed then, becoming a touch serious, and even rueful.

“And, uh…I don’t sleep so well at times, either,” he said.

You sobered as well. “Me too,” you said. Your lips hinted at a smile again. “But we can keep each other company.”

Dean read the thread of suggestion in your eyes, despite the hint of shyness. His smile began to perk up again.

“I can also be kind of stubborn,” he admitted.

Amused, you tilted your head and ran a gentle hand over his chest. Was he giving you every reason you might say no to him?

“Well, I’m sure I can find a way to soften you up,” you said.

Chuckling, Dean took your hand and pressed a kiss into your palm. “Oh, I got no doubts about that, sweetheart.”

He rested your hand back on his chest and thought for a moment more. You just waited for him, patiently stroking his hand with your thumb. You had time to wait.

“You know, I occasionally like to cook too,” he said, with something of an embarrassed chuckle.

Your smile brightened with interest. “Really? Well,” you said, slipping your hand out of his and winding your arms around his neck. “We can take turns feeding each other then.”

Dean really liked the way your mind worked. His hands splayed along your lower back and brought you more flush against his chest. Your face was mere inches from his, tilted up to him in waiting.

Again, he stopped short of kissing you.

“Ah, there’s probably a lot more you should know, but this one’s kind of a big one,” Dean said. That serious tone crept back up in his voice. “I’ve got a plan to make money. It’s not a sure-fire thing, but it’s an honest one. And even if it doesn’t work, I’ll just try something else. I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you. You don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You smiled at his earnestness. What surprised you most of all was that you believed him. Every word. Because you could see it in the deep green of his eyes. If you trusted him, he wouldn’t let you down. Or at least, he would try his hardest. Try really was all you could ask for.

“Then I’ll take care of you too,” you nodded, stroking his cheek.

Dean’s smile rang true as well.

He finally kissed you again, trapping you thereafter against the sofa.

You sighed and nuzzled your head in a more comfortable position on Dean’s shoulder. The train bound for South Dakota was travelling full speed ahead, four days after your initially booked ticket. The carriage bumped and jostled you both at times, but you felt nothing but peace. 

Dean turned his attention towards you, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His fingers entwined with yours in his lap. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, both genuine and a little teasing. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded. Your eyes closed as you let out a breath. He smiled into your hair. 

“So what’s it like in Sioux Falls?” he asked quietly, as to not disturb you too much. He just wanted to keep hearing your voice. He’d missed it. He’d missed you. 

“Quieter than the city,” you replied, after a moment to think about it. “Slower, but in some ways nicer. I think you’ll like it more than New York, anyway, and I think my parents will like you too…if they don’t think too much less of me.”

“Why would they think less of you?” Dean asked. 

You picked your head up and looked up at him a bit bashfully. You raised up your joined hands, where his mother’s wedding bands now rested on your ring finger. 

“For marrying another man they’ve never met, scarcely two minutes after the ink dried, so to speak,” you said, using his words. 

Dean chuckled, and he wrapped you up more snugly against him and rubbed your back. If you wanted to get technical, the new marriage license was the most recent “ink” to be penned. Sam had been your witness, of course, and he’d hugged you both afterwards. For Dean, Sam’s hug was tight and bracing. 

“I’m happy for you, Dean. I’m always here for you. Anything you need.”

“That’s my line, little brother.”

Dean hadn’t known that the two of you needed to take a blood test just to get hitched, let alone that the license wouldn’t be valid for 72 hours. Though it did give you and Dean the opportunity to put your hotel room to good use for those three days. Call it a honeymoon before the honeymoon. 

(In fairness, you’d tried to hold out for decency’s sake, but your resolve dissipated even quicker than Dean’s.)

“Don’t worry, I’ll charm ‘em,” he said with a grin. 

You snorted. “Good luck with my father. Be prepared for his grilling. Where do you plan to live? What’re you doing for work?”

“Well, the first one we can talk about. The second one, I’ve already got an idea,” said Dean. “I wanted to wait until I saw you again to decide…but I plan to sell the house in Lawrence.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Why?”

You had already been mentally preparing yourself for a move to Kansas after visiting your parents. You never considered that Dean would want to sell his family home.

“For the money. I’m thinking that after all this, you want to stick closer to home, be near your family,” he said. “I’ve got nothing tying me down over there besides the house, so I figure we can use the money to buy one here. With whatever’s left, I could try to start an auto repair shop. Nothing big to start. Just a space big enough for the work. I’m not picky about it. Your uncle could send me the stragglers from his tows, if he’s agreeable to it.”

“After he gets to know you, I don’t see why not. Dean, that’s a great idea and…thank you,” you replied. Your heart was touched that he would sell his family home, just so you could be near your family. You squeezed his hand and blinked past the tears beginning to burn in your eyes.

“Really, you don’t know what it means to me that you’d consider me like that.”

Dean noticed you getting worked up. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, though part of him felt a bit bashful. 

“It’s not all that special,” he said. You didn’t budge, however. 

“Yes, it is,” you said. You leaned up, wordlessly requesting a kiss. Dean obliged you. He kissed you long and slow and tender. 

He broke away after a while, just to look over your shoulder. He smiled. Then he leaned forward, careful to keep you secure in his arms as he locked the door. 

“What’re you up to?” you asked in amusement, despite the fire churning inside you.

“It’s a long way to the Midwest, sweetheart. I’m taking advantage of it,” he said. “What do you say?”

A knowing smile began to tug at your lips. “Hmm, depends on what you want to do.”

Dean shifted you onto his lap. Smirking at your small sound of surprise, he made a show of undoing every button that laced down the front of your dress with slow precision. Your breathing shallowed as you watched his nimble hand go one by one. 

“I plan to take my time,” he said. “I plan to make us both glad this train is loud enough to drown out just about anything.” 

He laid a kiss just above your neckline. The more buttons he loosened, the more bare skin he had to trail his affections, like on the tops of your breasts, and another kiss in between them. Uttering a soft sigh, you held him to you by his hair and threaded your fingers through the brown strands. His other hand squeezed your bottom, earning a stifled giggle from you. 

“I plan to map out every part of you, all over again,” he said, “until I can see it all with my eyes closed. Until we’re both sweaty and satisfied.” 

He raised his head just to mark a biting, claiming kiss on your throat, making your breath hitch. 

“That okay with you, baby?” he asked again. 

You felt his growing smile against your skin. You tightened a hand in his hair in retaliation. It was a scandalous proposal, not to mention risky. You two could be booted off the train, for heaven’s sake…  

Your breaths were shallow as he slipped a hand under the collar of your blouse, even under the bra to palm at your breast.

“You better not stop, Sergeant,” you whispered. 

When he chuckled, you felt it deep in your chest.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, shortly before he claimed your lips again.

The train rode on.

AN: I promised a happy ending, didn't I? 😉✨ What did you think of the "end" of Michael, as well as how she and Dean worked things out? I absolutely loved working on this series and this AU world. Maybe I'll do another '40s AU in the future! 💖

But until then, I have lots of fun things coming up! You'll hear about the next story soon. 😘

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