#my dad gave me a six month old puppy and I couldn’t take care of her for a whole month

[berniedette]

my doggie is 15 years old now and honestly, idk if I’m gonna be able to take care of another dog cuz I’m not as healthy and energetic as I was 15 years ago. this pup has grown up with me, I got old like he got old. I’ve had him since he was 6 months and I love him with all my heart.

[spilledkauffie]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably. 

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming. 

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.” 

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again. 

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,”  bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you. 

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”  

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. 

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.” 

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.” 

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive. 

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.” 

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest. 

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it. 

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.” 

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.” 

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear. 

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently. 

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you. 

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled. 

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell. 

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer. 

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back. 

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile. 

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss. 

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

“If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.” 

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”

[soulmate-game]

Maribat March 2021 @maribatmarch-2k21

Day 1: Found Family

“Ah! Bonjour!” A cheery voice called, as a short Eurasian girl bound over to the unfairly intimidating mob of tall people with sharp eyes. Chloe had called in a favor. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chloe told me that your tour guide cancelled at the last minute, so she blackmail—sorry, begged me to fill in for them. You are the Wayne’s, non?”

The one at the front of the group, clearly Bruce Wayne since Marinette didn’t live under a rock and had seen the man on several American news broadcasts before, nodded and cleared his throat. Man, was he intimidating. Even when he shot her a dazzling smile that was sure to blind Paparazzi with fake cheer. It was a nice smile, Marinette wasn’t about to deny. But it was empty. Distant. And Marinette wasn’t going to buy it for a second.

“Yes, that’s us. Mademoiselle Bourgeois mentioned she had asked a close friend of hers to take care of our tour.”

Marinette nodded again, clasping her hands behind her back. “I guarantee, you won’t miss anything the tour guide would have shown you. In fact, Chloe mentioned that you all were very curious about the now retired Parisian heroes, right? My former best friend ran the Ladyblog back when they were active. I am more than confident that I can answer any questions you have while we go through the city.”

A boy with a white streak in his hair rose his hand, as if he was in a class and needed to wait to be called on. Which, considering the sheer size of their family, Marinette was actually grateful for. But damn, this was another imposing figure. Slightly taller than even the six-foot-three-inches that Bruce Wayne owned, he was solidly built and rocked a brown leather jacket and ripped black jeans. Marinette smiled and nodded for him to speak.

“How old are you? Because I don’t know if twelve year olds are allowed to do guided tours,” there was an obvious tease in his voice, but there was also legitimate concern in his blue-green eyes. Marinette almost missed that concern amid her quickly building annoyance. She even felt her eyes twitch.

“I’m turning eighteen in a few months if you need to know, Monsieur,” she evened out the bite in her voice with an overly sweet smile. “And if you want to get lost and possibly pickpocketed in the busy streets of Paris, then please continue to make comments on my height. If not, we can begin our tour and you might even enjoy it.”

Several Wayne’s snickered at her comeback, one man in particular elbowing the white haired gentleman with a little too much glee. Even the stoic Bruce laughed softly, and a boy with enough bags under his eyes to make the airport jealous nearly fell over himself with his suppressed laughter.

The man himself just snorted, sending her a lopsided smirk that oddly radiated approval. It was almost as if she had passed some sort of test.

“My name’s Jason, Pixie. You already know B. The guy trying to break my ribs,” he pointedly shoved off the one who had elbowed him, “is Dick. He’s Bruce’s first adoptive casualty. The one that looks like a zombie is Tim, we might need to take a break to get him more coffee before he passes out halfway through. The one who hasn’t stopped glaring at you is Damian, the badass redhead is Barbara but we all call her Babs. The annoying blonde is Stephany, the other cool badass over there is Cass. She doesn’t talk much. And the one trying to pretend he doesn’t know us is Duke.”

Each member he introduced gave her a little wave or nod. Even Damian managed a short nod of acknowledgement before resuming his glare. He looked to be a couple years younger than her, so she just brushed it off as teenage drama.

“Alright then! It is very nice to meet you all. Now, Chloe did inform me that you guys are very multilingual, which is another reason she asked me instead of one of our other friends. If you ever need it, I obviously am fluent in both French and English. But added to that, I am fluent in Cantonese, Mandarin, Italian, and I know basic survival Japanese. I also know French Sign Language, though I’m not sure if that’s very useful for you unfortunately. If you ever need to communicate non-verbally, I will do my best to accommodate that. Now, I believe you guys were scheduled to start the tour with a visit to the Louvre, non? Right this way.”

As Marinette led the large group out of the Grand Paris, they didn’t bother taking time to admire the sights before asking questions.

“Have you ever met one of the heroes?” Dick, who might have been shorter than Jason and Bruce but was muscular enough to still inspire caution (and admiration), asked. His blue eyes seemingly stared right through Marinette as he continued; “If you’re almost eighteen, then they must have been active through a lot of your school career.”

Marinette smiled. “They did only retire last year,” she agreed with a nod. “Yes, I have met all of the Parisian heroes at least once,” she snorted at a stray thought. “In fact, I met Chat Noir quite a lot. You see, my old College was basically ground zero for a lot of akuma attacks. And by a lot, I mean a majority of them,” she shook her head before pausing to get everyone to cross a street. “After a while, Chat Noir started calling me ‘princess’ to make fun of how often he had to save me. He’s an annoying ass.”

Despite her words, everyone behind her could easily hear the fondness there. They all traded glances. What if this was a Lois and SuperMan situation? Regardless, they all had a suspicion that Marinette knew more about the heroes than she let on. Or, at least more about Chat Noir.

“When you say that your school was a hotspot for Akuma attacks,” Bruce spoke up cautiously, his Dad Senses going haywire. He didn’t like how nonchalantly she had said it— she was far too casual. Sure enough, he watched as the muscles between her shoulders stiffened slightly at the conversation change. “What do you mean? Surely it couldn’t have been that bad if the school is still around.”

Marinette sucked her teeth, grimacing. “The school is still there, yeah, but only because of Ladybug’s ability. You’ve heard about the Cure, right?” It was Tim who answered her;

“Yeah. It fixed the damage done during a fight, right?” He asked, tilting his head a little. Marinette ignored her brief thought that the gesture made him look like a curious puppy. She sighed.

“Yeah. But when they say damage, they mean everything. Injuries, collateral. Death,” she said the last example darkly, far too much weight behind the word for it to be meaningless. She heard Jason hiss in sympathy. “But there are good things. The Cure also erased anyone’s memories of dying besides the vague knowledge that it did happen, so there isn’t much trauma there to unpack. Not as much as there could have been anyway,” she assured them. “And I’m one of the lucky ones. I never died, and I was never Akumatized.”

“Hmph,” Damian’s voice cut through the brief silence that followed her admission. She looked back at him to see his sharp green eyes staring right into her. “You don’t honestly believe that’s lucky.” It wasn’t a question. Marinette clenched her jaw, turning around and ignoring him.

Because, no. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t lucky that she was the only one that remembered everything— all of the deaths, all of the Akumatizations, everything that others mercifully forgot. Since she lived through all of it, she remembered all of it. And survivor’s guilt is nothing to scoff at.

But she wasn’t about to reveal her trauma, or at the very least the full scope of it, to people she had just met and was leading on a tour.

“If you look to the left, you’ll see a statue that was made depicting Ladybug and Chat Noir back during the first years of their activity,” she suddenly told them, gesturing to the still-standing statue. Nobody missed the obvious topic change, but nobody commented on it either. Turns out the statue was something they had been looking forward to seeing in person, Tim even went up to take a few photos with his camera. Barbara took a few circles around the statue, easily pivoting her wheelchair around it as if she was trying to see every angle and imperfection possible. Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight.

“Your family are pretty big fans, huh?” She asked Cass and Duke, the only ones that had stayed back with her. Duke snorted, and Cass gave her a small grin.

“They like to keep up to date with all the heroes,” Duke answered with a shrug. “Since we’re so high profile, it isn’t weird for us to be saved by one here or there even when we’re away from Gotham.”

Marinette just gave him an odd look, furrowing her brows. “But the Miraculous team has been disbanded since HawkMoth was defeated,” she reminded them. “There’s no need for them to save anybody anymore.”

“Old habits,” Cass spoke up softly, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes locked with Marinette’s. “Not easy to break.”

The smaller woman had a feeling that Cass wasn’t talking about her family’s habit of keeping up to date on heroes.

“Alright! We need to head to the next stop or we might not have time to see everything!”

The tour went pretty similarly. The walks between stops were pleasant, and filled with questions about the period of time where HawkMoth was active. Marinette wasn’t even the least bit surprised nor put off; everyone was curious about those years now that the tourism restriction was lifted and people could ask freely about it. Besides the many questions about the Heroes, Marinette found the group to be very pleasant company. They were polite, but also rowdy in a very endearing way. She caught a lot of inside jokes they had with each other, and a lot of good natured teasing and fighting. They even managed to rope her into it somehow, and she found herself snidely teasing Damian or casually threatening Tim with not allowing them a coffee break. She even got to ride on Jason’s shoulders for a bit after he made another comment on her height that she Did Not Appreciate. But the ride she got made it worth it.

But soon the sun was high in the sky, and it was about time for them to take a lunch break. They had all been walking for hours with only a few chances to rest, and honestly Marinette was impressed that none of them seemed too tired out by it.

“Alright,” she put her hands on her hips proudly. “Since some of you won’t stop whining about needing coffee or being hungry— Dick, don’t you dare buy anything from that vendor! I’m gonna lead you all to my parent’s bakery so we can have lunch and caffeinate all of you. And conveniently enough,” she smiled widely. “The bakery is right across the street from my old College! So you’ll be able to get a look at where the majority of Akuma attacks happened, and maybe I can tell you a few specific stories if you want,” she offered. There were a couple cheers (Tim and Dick) from the crowd and everyone seemed pretty pleased with the next step in their tour. Smiling, Marinette turned and began to lead them in the direction of her home.

Sirens blared, a fire truck zooming down the street next to them.

Headed in the same direction.

Marinette frowned, watching it go. “That’s weird. I hope everyone’s okay, whatever happened,” she mused idly. But as they kept going forward, the sirens didn’t get any softer. If anything, they started getting louder again after a while. Marinette was visibly concerned by then, her pace picking up. “This is my neighborhood,” she told the solemn group behind her. “I know everyone on this street—“ they rounded the corner, and Marinette stopped in her tracks. Her world ground to a halt.

There was the fire truck, stopped right in front of her bakery.

Which was completely ablaze.

A string of curses flew out of her mouth, the little Eurasian wasting no more time before sprinting towards the building. She could hear people yelling at her to wait, slow down, stop! But she ignored them. The only thing on her mind was that her home was on fire.

“Marinette! Wait!” Dick reached out to grab her arm, but like a snake Marinette easily slipped out of his grip and continued forward. Steph was next, deciding to just tackle Marinette— to no avail. The Parisian just shouldered the bigger woman off of her with pure adrenaline fueling her muscles, and everyone else knew by then that they could not stop her. The Wayne’s decided all they could do was jog behind Marinette, keeping her in sight as they tried to gauge the damage.

“The top floors don’t look like they have even been touched by the fire yet,” Tim whispered, though his eyes flew between the building and their tour guide. Marinette was speaking rapidly with a firefighter that wasn’t immediately busy, trying to get information. But before anyone could decipher what was said, Marinette tore a large strip off the bottom of her shirt and tied it in a hasty mask around her mouth.

“Wait!” Bruce was the first to realize what was happening, with his years of experience with self sacrificing children and their stupid stunts. But Marinette managed to kick him away before he could grab her, dashing into the inferno without paying any heed to the many protests that followed her.

The group of Gothamites could do nothing but watch the flaming building, then. If they went inside, it would only overcrowd a hazardous area. Minutes passed, and there was movement in the fire. Out of the doorway came Marinette and a firefighter, both having to work together to carry the body of a large man outside. The sight of the man made the Gotham family blink— he was as big as Bane! And that was nothing to scoff at. But despite his unusual size and muscle mass, the man had all the signs of being a normal civilian.

Marinette didn’t stop there. She ran back in. Coming out a lot more quickly this time with a barely conscious Asian woman— everyone saw the resemblance between her and this new woman immediately.

It had to be her mother.

“Shit,” Duke hissed. Nobody else could say a word. It wasn’t looking good, and this wasn’t a situation where random vigilantes showing up out of nowhere could actually help. Not this late into the fire. Bruce’s hands curled into fists.

The woman that everyone guessed was Marinette’s mother was suddenly struck by lucidity; she gasped and grabbed at Marinette’s hand without seeming to see who she was even talking to. A single word that none of the Waynes could hear left her throat, and judging by Marinette’s returning panic it hadn’t been good.

She rushed right back into the building, and came back out with the last firefighter who had been searching inside.

Marinette carried a child. She screamed out in panicked French;

“She’s not breathing! I need first aid now!”

That was their cue. The firefighters started their hoses, focusing on getting rid of the flames now that nobody was left inside the building. Bruce and Damian got to Marinette first, and this time she listened as they instructed her to set the child down. Damian, being smaller and having more hands-on medical knowledge, took charge of the resuscitation. Marinette sat there silently, eyes riveted to the small child— a girl.

But Marinette wasn’t reacting like a normal civilian to tragedy. She was eerily calm, eyes focused and barely concealing a terrible rage. She took over chest compressions when Damian started to lose momentum, not giving up.

But then the EMTs arrived, and it was only five minutes with the child hooked onto oxygen that the news arrived—

Marinette heard the monitors on the ambulance flatline before she even registered what people were trying to tell her. Manon. Manon was—

Marinette didn’t register Nadya Chammack at first. She was just another body in the quickly growing sea of them. That is, until she heard Nadya’s pained shriek. A mother who had just lost her baby girl.

“Perhaps we should head back,” Bruce offered softly, giving Marinette space but keeping a keen eye on her. He saw her begin to tremble, then shake. He was pretty sure he could hear the grinding of her teeth for a second before she went still. Just… all movement stopped, the tears that had been building just falling silently for a second before they ended.

And he recognized that carefully practiced emptiness in her bluebell eyes. The same emptiness he had seen in Damian’s eyes when he had first arrived at the Manor. The same emptiness he saw in Dick’s eyes in the days following his parent’s deaths.

The same emptiness he saw in the mirror, every time he had another nightmare about the day Jason had been taken from him, years ago.

Suddenly he could imagine all too well exactly what kind of strength she had to have, to avoid her negative emotions ever being used against her during Hawkmoth’s reign. Especially if she had constantly been dealing with her friends and family being Akumatized and/or dying on multiple occasions.

She didn’t even seem to have heard him. Bruce sighed.

“I called Chloe,” Barbara informed everyone solemnly, holding up her phone for emphasis. “She’ll be here in five.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Chloe hadn’t come alone. With her had been Adrien Agreste, former model when his father hadn’t been… well, in prison. Nowadays he was just a normal student who occasionally gave lectures on neglect and child abuse, and how to help children in those situations.

And, apparently, he was also Marinette’s closest friend. Even more so than Chloe. As soon as they arrived back at the Grand Paris, Chloe herded everyone up into her suite and she and Adrien surrounded Marinette with pillows and blankets. Adrien curled around Marinette like an affectionate cat, and Damien even swore he heard the guy purr at some point

“We should probably leave,” Bruce whispered to their hostess, who looked inbetween him and her friends for a moment before jerking her head towards the door.

“I wanna talk to you first,” Chloe whispered back. Once they all filed out into the hallway and the door was safely closed, Chloe took a breath. “First, I want to tell you that I got a call from the hospital. Marinette’s father is stable, but in a coma right now.”

“Is that the man who looked like he could bench press a car for fun?” Dick asked, earning a weak grin from the Bourgeois heiress.

“Yeah, that’s him. But…” Chloe’s face fell, and she looked around as if to double check nobody was eavesdropping. She still lowered her voice anyway. “Her mother, Sabine. She…” Chloe swallowed a lump in her throat, images of the extremely kind Chinese woman flashing through her mind without permission. “She didn’t make it.”

Several people took a sharp breath, acknowledging everything that had gone so wrong for Marinette on a day that had started so perfectly.

“The smoke?” Cass asked gently, but Chloe winced and shifted on her feet.

“No. They… there were rope marks on Sabine’s neck,” Chloe clenched her eyes shut at the admission. “Marinette’s dad might be big, but he’s not a fighter. Sabine, though… Sabine was. She was raised in a martial arts family back in China. I’ve seen Sabine take down five men at once, all twice her size,” Chloe kicked her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “Somebody knew… somebody knew that the little Chinese woman was a threat but the big baker with tons of muscle was harmless.”

Nobody took that well. Not only had Marinette just lost her home and half of her family, but her father was in a coma and it had all been foul play.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded once the news had time to sink in. They could help with this; this was their specialty. They might have only known Marinette for six hours, but she had made a big impression. It wasn’t just anybody that could mesh with his family so seamlessly in that short span of time. “Is there anything else?”

“I want you to get temporary custody of her,” Chloe said it the way only Chloe Bourgeois could. With her back straight, chin high, and the tone of a woman who expected to be listened to or else she’d make life Hell for the person that didn’t take her seriously. Bruce could only blink.

“Can I ask for your reasoning?”

“Marinette has been closing herself off more and more over the years,” Chloe admitted. “Hawkmoth’s reign was hard on her. Only Adrien really knows everything she went through during those years. But even after the disbanding of the team, she hasn’t… she hasn’t allowed herself to get close to anybody new. That’s why I tricked her into doing your tour. She needed to socialize with new people, and if she wouldn’t do it herself then I had to pull some strings.”

A few eyebrows raised at the admission that Chloe had fully planned for Marinette to be their tour guide the whole time. It honestly seemed like the kind of well meaning manipulation that one of them would try to pull off.

“She likes you,” Chloe’s voice went soft again, showing how uncharacteristically serious she was about that fact. “She was comfortable enough to let you guys carry her back here. To let you try to help Manon. That might not seem like a big deal to you, but it says a lot to me and Adrien. And… getting her away from Paris for a while is probably a good idea. She was planning to go to Gotham for university anyway.”

The Waynes traded glances before Bruce crosses his arms and asked some more questions first. Doesn’t Marinette have other family? Answer; only her grandmother, who travels all the time and nobody ever knows where she is until she shows up. Bruce agreed that Gina Dupain didn’t exactly seem like a good candidate for Marinette’s new guardian with that description. But finally, to none of his children's surprise, he did end up agreeing.

“But,” he held up a single finger. “We’ll Wait here in Paris for a week, so that she can try to salvage everything she can from her house and so we can get an idea on how her father is doing. There’s still a chance he’ll come out of his coma fairly quickly. And of course, we will only go through with this if Marinette agrees when we ask her tomorrow.”

Chloe agreed to those terms, looking like a weight had been lifted off of her.

Chloe never cut corners when taking care of her hive. And if that meant making sure that her brave soldier bee could move on to start a new hive, one that was better equipped to take care of her, then Chloe would do everything she could to help that move. And really; Chloe was far more resourceful and observant than people gave her credit for. The butts definitely matched, and Bruce Wayne was her last hope to get Marinette the support she needed. Outside of Adrien, anyway.

Chloe took a breath, watching the Waynes trickle off into their own rooms. Marinette was like the little sister she never wanted, but grew to love more than anything. Though, Chloe knew she really chose Marinette as her sister the same way they both chose Adrien as their brother. She just didn’t want to admit she was sentimental like that. But Chloe knew that someone like Marinette needed a bigger family. More support.

She could only hope that Marinette and the Waynes grew to become family for her like she and Adrien had. Kwami knew that Marinette needed all the help she could get for the foreseeable future.

“You did good, my Queen.”

“I know, Pollen. Now we just have to find out who dared hurt my hive.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dude this took so long to write, but I’m actually really proud of it. Probably gonna take this Maribat March a little differently than last year, and make a few longer stories by connecting some of the prompts together. Maybe each week will be a full story? Idk I’ll figure it out. I know I’m behind but I’m working on it.

I tried to keep the angst out, but it found it’s way in here anyway. Oh well!

[tsrookie]

Always In My Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: On today’s episode of ‘I have no idea wtf I’m doing’, we have something that I cooked up because I had terrible WiFi and no other app but Google docs would open up.

Trope: Fluff, but a tiny bit of angst?

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: Their son has a very important question to ask.

——————————

The delicious aroma of chicken and rice wafted through the Brooks-Ramsey household. The couple worked side by side in the kitchen as they had all those years ago, the only difference being that it was now a dinner for five and not just two.

Allison Dolores Brooks-Ramsey came into their lives nine years ago, and while it was earlier than they would have wanted, they didn’t regret a second of their lives ever since they first heard her voice.

The twins on the other hand, were planned, but nothing had prepared them for the chaos that Nathan and Natalie would bring. A new broken object every week, a dozen fights for the TV every day, and yet were nothing short of tiny tornadoes when they joined forces.

It couldn’t be more perfect.

“What time did Jackie and Emilia say that they would bring the girls back?”

“6:30, I think.”

“Ah. So we have time till 7:00.” They shared a knowing smile. Two aunts taking their nine and six year old nieces to the mall meant a complete raid of the toy store, and a new guitar.

“You need to stop letting everyone spoil the girls just because you have a soft spot for them, Ethan. Ally’s grown old enough to understand that she has her daddy wrapped around her finger, and we don’t need Nat coming to that realisation as well.”

“I don’t- I can’t believe you would accuse me of not loving all my children equally!”, he exclaimed in mock offense.

“Mhmm. So why did I have to come up with an explanation to tell Nathan why his dad wasn’t on board with ordering dessert when he asked for it, but relented once his sisters kept bugging him for another five minutes?”

He opened his mouth in protest, but decided against saying anything for his own good. “Well what can I say? They’ve inherited their mother’s persuasiveness. And I can’t really say no to you, can I?”

Alyssa’s lips curved upwards at that. The playful look in her husband’s eyes caused her to finally break into a grin. “At least you’re self-aware.” Stuffing the rice into the bird she added, “But I can’t exactly tell our son that his dad is too in-love with his mom that he sees her in his daughters and hence can’t say no to them. He’d gag in disgust.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “That he would. Alright I’ll try a little harder to resist their charms. Wouldn’t want my only son to end up hating me.” He said it without a hint of worry over it becoming true someday. Over the years, he’d learned to put aside his fears of not being a good father, and with the help of some therapy, and Alyssa’s unwavering love and support, he’d locked up his insecurities in a box and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

They took the stuffed chicken and put it in the oven, washed their hands and plopped down on the couch for some rare downtime.

“Crap.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fred’s mom got called in, so she’s dropping Nate off on her way to work.”

Ethan sighed. “There goes the hour I planned to spend with my wife, who I barely get to spend enough time with these days.”

“I swear, you were never this busy when you were chief. I have no idea why my workload’s ten times bigger.”

“I do.” Ethan smiled with pride. “One usually does have a lot of work when they’re at the front lines of the battle for making free healthcare accessible for every single person in the country. My brilliant wife, though she could choose to leave most of the work to her very competent team, opts to take it all upon herself. So that’s probably the cause behind all the extra workload she complains about.”

She smirked and perched herself onto his lap. “Well your very brilliant wife also knows that you called my team very competent just to avoid hurting my feelings, and that you and I both know that they’ll be running around like headless chickens without me taking care of things.”

“I know, love. But you can still make them do a little more instead of working yourself to the bone while still making sure that you have at least one meal with the kids every day.”

She sighed. “Yeah, to make sure that they don’t forget what I look like.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, are we really going to spend our last few minutes of peace talking about work?”

Just as she uttered the words, the door burst open, and Nathan kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the couch as Alyssa slid down from Ethan’s lap. She shot him a look that very clearly meant What did I just say?

Ethan gave her an apologetic look and ruffled his son’s hair. “Hey buddy. How was your day at Fred’s? I know you wanted to spend more time with him.”

“I did, and we were just about to open his new LEGO set when Mrs. Watson told us that she had to run up to her office for some emergency meeting.”, he pouted. “But it was a nice day. We watched Thor: Ragnarok and Luca, and we would’ve watched another movie if his dad didn’t tell us that two movies were enough for a day.”

Alyssa shot him a mildly stern look. “Well he was right. You’re too young to have movie marathons just yet. Two are more than enough, unless you want to have a headache.”

“But mom, I’m not too young! I’m a big boy! I can swing along the monkey bars at the park faster than Natalie, and soon I’ll swing across buildings just like Spider-Man!”

“Well Spider-Man got bitten by a yucky spider before he swung across buildings. Do you want to be bitten by a gross and poisonous spider?”

“Mommy, not all spiders are gross and poisonous. Dad told me that when I was four and got scared of them at the zoo.”

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to her husband to convince her kids that insects were anything short of creepy and disgusting. In reality, they were, but as someone who ran a mile away at the sight of a butterfly, she wasn’t going to accept that.

“That’s right, Nate. Some of them are certainly very poisonous and dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that you should be scared of them. If you maintain your distance and admire them from afar, there should be no problem at all.”, he said with a pointed look at Alyssa, who just huffed in annoyance.

Nathan giggled, his brown eyes lighting up with amusement. He loved watching his parents playfully bicker. It was way better than seeing them- ugh, kiss.

“We were pretending to be superheroes and Fred used his full name for his pretend name cause it sounded cool, and it is. Fredrick Anthony Watson sounds like something from that show you and mom watch with the guys in the stuffy suits.”

“When did you see us watching the show with the guys in the stuffy suits?”, asked Ethan with a slight hint of concern. Whatever he and Alyssa watched on their free nights was definitely not kid-friendly.

“I don’t remember. Maybe a few months ago.”

Their year old puppy, Ivy, woke up from her nap and bounced into the living room to jump onto her favourite person. Nathan squealed with joy as the fluffy hair of the dog tickled his nose.

Ethan and Alyssa smiled at each other. Getting another dog after Jenner was a decision that took a lot of convincing, but their kids were responsible enough and it was impossible to say no after two years of constant pestering.

“Fred told me that he was named after his great-grandfather William, and that he was this really cool guy who saved a bunch of guys from getting mugged in a dark, dark alley.” He turned to look at his parents as Ivy snuggled into his lap. “Who was I named after mom?”

The question caught her off guard, and she glanced at Ethan for backup.

When they knew that they were having a boy, they immediately knew what to name him. They hadn't, however, anticipated Nathan Daniel Brooks-Ramsey to ask such a question this soon.

Seeing his wife at a loss for words, Ethan spoke up. “C’mere Nate.” He pulled him closer and pressed a kiss atop his head. “We once had a friend named Daniel. He worked at the hospital as a nurse, and he was close to your mom and Aunt Sienna when they were interns.”

Having found her voice, Alyssa joined in. “He was an amazing friend. He was the only nurse in the hospital who helped me out when things got messy, and cheered up Aunt Sienna when no one else could. He’d join us for picnics and movie nights, and you could always count on him if you needed something at the hospital.” She took a deep breath, and Ethan nodded. “Things were going well, but then in my second year, something really bad happened.”

“Oh no.”

“There was this bad guy, who wanted his revenge on another bad guy, and he was ready to risk his own life, and the lives of everyone around him to do so.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want to do something like that?”

Ethan smiled wistfully. “A lot of people in this world actually do. You’re a good person, so you know that it’s wrong. But some people aren’t, and they don’t care about other people getting hurt because of their actions. That night at the hospital, Danny tried to tell the bad guy that it was wrong, and to think things through. But he didn’t listen, and did something that hurt both himself, Danny, Uncle Raf, another friend of ours, and your mom.”

His little eyebrows creased with worry, Nathan asked, “What happened then?”

“He… he died. Along with our other friend, Bobby. Do you remember what we once told you about an autopsy?” Nathan nodded his head. “Well Danny asked for his body to be autopsied, and thanks to him, we were able to find out what was wrong with mom and Uncle Raf.”

He fell silent for a moment, remembering the horrors of the day, and how eternally grateful he was to Danny for being the reason he didn’t lose everything. He couldn’t imagine a life without the love of his life and his children, and he wouldn’t have either if not for the sacrifices that were made.

He looked up at Alyssa, and she squeezed his hand in support. “We’ll tell you more when you’re older, but to make it short, you’re named after a hero too. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you, your sisters, or mom here with me.”

Nathan wriggled out of his dad’s arms, and set Ivy down so he could hug his mom as tightly as he could.

“Well… if you can hear me Mr. Daniel, I just wanna thank you. Thanks for saving my mom. I love her so much and I’m so thankful that I got to meet her because of what you did. I wish I could’ve met you, you sound like a really cool person, and I’m sure you were. So yeah, thanks. A lot.”

Alyssa’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she held her son as she expressed her silent thanks along with Ethan.

What they had was precious.

Fifteen years had passed since they first met, and yet each day they fell in love a little more like they did when they held hands for the first time in the dim light of the NICU watching over little Ethan, or when she finally got to see the real him the first time she visited his place; the first time in years he let someone know a little of the worries residing deep in his heart.

With all the odds against them, it was a miracle that they survived, even more so that they managed to raise three perfect children who had more love to share than they could ever comprehend.

And they’d never forget all the reasons that made it possible for them to survive.

Ding!

The timer on the oven went off, and they got to their feet to get the chicken.

“Was he a good cook dad?”

“I… don’t really know, Nate. Your mom knew him better than I did.”

“Well there was this one time where he helped Aunt Sienna bake an amazing cake, so I guess he knew his way around the kitchen.”, Alyssa recollected fondly. It was for Jackie’s birthday, one of the few nights where the competition was completely forgotten about.

Nathan’s face melted into a glowing smile. “I love cake. So I guess I really would’ve loved him.”

She mirrored his radiant expression. “You definitely would’ve.”

“Why don’t you go play with Ivy while mom and I get the food ready? You can help us with the dessert later.”

“We’re having dessert?!”

Ethan grinned at his son’s excitement. “You bet we are.”

“Yay!” They watched as Nathan ran off to go play fetch with Ivy in their enormous backyard.

Ethan pulled Alyssa in for a sweet, lingering kiss as soon as he was out of sight.

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now hmm?”

“Something like that.”, he murmured as they broke apart.

She could see the ever-increasing strands of silver in his brown hair, and the faint wrinkles along the sides of his forehead, but his clear blue eyes were just as loving and devoted as she remembered from over a decade ago.

“We have a pretty good life, don’t we?”

Ethan kissed her again. “No, we have the perfect life.”

——————————

A/N 2: Aaaand I’m going MIA again. Honestly though, to everyone who’s read so far, thank you so much for sticking around. Means the world💙

P.S: I finally chose Chyler Leigh as my face claim!

Taglist: @whimsicallywayward15 @aleynareads @starrystarrytrouble @dxnicaramsey @decadentwinnerjudgedream @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @the-pale-goddess @ohchoices @wellhelloramsey @mvalentine @swiftlydarcy @utterlyinevitable @akshara16 @sushiharrington @drethanramslay @lion-ess24 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @drariellevalentine @perriewinklenerdie @blossomanarchy @stateofgracious @takemyopenheart @open-heart-ramseyyy @maurine07 @udishaman @queencarb @ethanramseylover @rookiemarsswiftie @aworldoffandoms @lsvdw-blog @n03lia @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfan @jamespotterthefirst @senseofduties

Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist!

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

The Perfect Morning

You have been asking for it loud and clearly so I decided to write the Sprace baby you’ve all been waiting for. This is part of the “Life in the ER'' Series but a rare moment that doesn’t take place in the hospital. There are curse words and mentions of a hospital/working in a hospital. As always, feedback would be wonderful and would make me very happy. And if you have anything you’d like to see happen in the series, just let me know - I’m always looking for new situations to put our favorite characters into!

April 17, 2021

The house was quiet when he woke. It hadn’t been that quiet in almost six months and his first thoughts were holy shit. The second was questioning the time. He rolled over and looked at the green numbers of the clock - 7:34.

Running a hand over his face, he sighed before letting the hand flop to the other side of the bed. Empty. Cold. Sitting up, he blinked a couple of times, allowing his eyes to scan the room.

“Spottie?” He called, pushing himself off the bed and heading towards the room across the hall.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised to see it was empty. The dark wooden crib they had spent hours debating about sat across from the door, a light blanket thrown over the side. A mint green onesie was haphazardly thrown near the hamper and a stuffed elephant was nearby but otherwise nothing was out of place.

Continuing on his journey, he headed towards the living room thinking his husband and young child could be there but he came up empty once more. The dog was even missing which caused him to pause in his hunt.

At that moment, he fell in love with his husband a bit more. Here it was a rare morning that Spot didn’t have an early morning shift at the hospital; yet he had gotten up, taken care of their child and puppy so he could sleep in a bit.

Their lives were flipped upside down with the adoption of their daughter. It had been a period of adjustment for all of them, especially for their puppy, Sassie. From the moment they brought their little girl home, life had completely changed for the good. The two of them had always been a great team; however, they didn’t know how good of a team they would be until the doctor handed them Mackenzie Jayne Higgins-Conlon and wished them congratulations.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Race grinned putting in creamer before heading out to their front porch. He shouldn’t be surprised Spot would do this - it’s just him and his little ways of showing love. Taking a seat, he took a sip of his coffee as he waited for the rest of his family to return from whatever adventure they had gone on.

Relaxing into the chair, he sighed, listening to the birds chirp in the trees as he held the warm mug in his hands. Just as he went to kick his feet up, Sassie came bounding up the stairs, with her leash dragging behind her. Putting his mug on the table, he bent over and rubbed his hands up and down her sides, wishing her a good morning.

“Where’s dad, Sass?” He asked, looking down the street for him. What he saw caught him off guard.

Spot was pushing the jogging stroller that Jack and Kat had gotten them as a shower gift, shirtless, hair pushed back by a headband and sunglasses over his eyes. Race took a moment to publically ogle his husband, appreciating the physique that Spot effortlessly maintained. Race was careful not to let his jaw drop at how utterly gorgeous his husband was. There were very few times he could unabashedly stare at his husband and he was going to take full advantage of it.

Unclipping Sassie’s leash, he opened the front door for her to go inside before he bounded down the stairs to where Kenzie and Spot were. Race couldn’t help but catcall and whistle as he came closer to the two. “Hey good lookin.”

Grinning, Spot looked up from where he was unclipping Mack. “Hey yourself.”

“Have I mentioned how utterly gorgeous you are lately?” Race saunted closer to his husband and daughter with a shit eating grin on his face.

Spot adjusted Mack in his arms before throwing his head back and laughing. “Right now I’m a sweaty mess but thanks for the compliment. I wanted to give you a chance to sleep in since you’ve been taking night duty.”

“Sweaty mess or not, you’re hot. Own that. And thanks, I appreciate it.” Race leaned over and kissed him. “Did little miss enjoy the run?”

Spot kissed him back before handing Mack over to him. He leaned down to grab something out of the bottom of the stroller before giving Race a bright smile. “She was fussy when we first started but seemed to settle down as I got into a rhythm. I did about a 45 minutes run. We ran through town, picked up breakfast before heading back.”

“You’re my hero.” Race said, walking back up the stairs to the front porch. “Do you want a cup of coffee or water?”

Spot waved him off. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Do you need anything before I do that?”

“Nah, we'll just hang out here. If she wants, send Sassie out here.” Race pressed a kiss to Kenzie’s forehead. “Come back out when you’re done.”

Spot dropped kisses to both Race and Mack’s foreheads before slipping into the house, only to open the door again to let Sassie out.

Settling Mack with her back against his chest, Race relaxed in the chair, listening to Mack babble to herself. “Did you have fun with daddy this morning, Kenzie?”

She tried to adjust herself to see Race. He picked her up so she was standing on his legs as she continued her babble. Race continued his conversation with her as she tried to put her fingers in his mouth. He playfully ate them as she dissolved into baby giggles. They continued that game until she caught sight of her puppy.

Soon she was leaning forward to try to pet Sassie. Putting her on the porch floor, she babbled to and crawled over Sassie as the dog watched her young sister protectively.

He heard the door open and close just as he took the last sip of his coffee. He smiled gratefully at Spot as he spied the cups of coffee in his hands. Spot handing him one with a smirk. “Thanks. Feeling better?”

“Much less grimly and sweaty.” Spot took a seat, watching Sassie and Kenzie with a proud smile. “What’s the plan for the day?”

Race shrugged. “As far as I know, there are no plans. Jack and Kat mentioned getting together but nothing was ever put into place.”

“If they don’t reach out, I’m all in favor of a lazy day. We haven’t had one of those in a while so that’s my vote.” Spot said, stretching his legs out in front of him as he reached out and laced his fingers with Race’s.

Race nodded, squeezing their hands. “If I haven’t mentioned it lately, I’m proud of the life we’ve built. Perfect husband, perfect daughter and dog. Jobs we both love and great friends and family.”

“Sap.” Spot was quick to tease him but squeezed his hand. “I love our life too. Love you Racer.”

“Love you too Spottie.” Race leaned over and kissed him. “What did you bring for breakfast?”

Spot chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s always food with you.”

“Not always.” Raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively, Race smirked. “But I’m hungry for food right now.”

Spot pushed himself off the chair before sauntering into the house and returning with the white bag from earlier. “I got a couple of different things - didn’t know what you would be in the mood for.”

“Thanks snookums.” Race opened the bag, pulling out a cinnamon twist donut before taking a bit. “When do you work next?”

“Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday this week.” Spot drug through the bag taking out a donut. “Plums is working Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday with me so it’ll be a good couple of shifts.”

“Kenzie in daycare Wednesday and Friday?” Race inquired trying to keep the schedule fight.

Spot nodded. “Yea. You’ve got what seven weeks left of the school year?”

“I think. Days are starting to blend together.” Race sighed. “I’m just ready for summer.”

“We’ll have to figure out what we’re going to do. I have a couple of weeks of vacation that need to be used up before September.” Spot gave him a look. “Maybe we can head to the mountains or a beach. She’ll love the water.”

Race nodded. “Maybe Kat, Jack, Al, and Finchie would want to do something, at least for a few days.”

“That’ll be fun. We know how much Kenz loves Addie.” Spot grinned, thinking about the trouble the two would eventually get up to, as the two were only 4 months apart.

Race groaned. “No talking about the two of them growing up. They’re 5 and 9 months old and that’s all my poor heart can take.”

“Calm down papa bear. She’s still our little girl and Addie is still our little niece.” Spot squeezed his hand. “But I do love your idea of making it a family affair. Maybe momma and Smalls would want in.”

Race relaxed in his chair, thinking about all the adventures they would have ahead of them. With Spot and Kenzie by his side, he was content and happy. A thought popped into his head as a sly grin crossed his lips. “So, uh, Spottie . . . wanna tell me how you’re such a ripped dad?”

Spot threw his head back laughing before reaching over and shoving Race’s shoulder. “I could but you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.”

“Is that a challenge?” Race raised an eyebrow in a warning.

Spot snorted loudly. “Race you complain when you have to walk to the mailbox to get the mail - no way you’re running 45 minutes with me.”

“I can kick your ass boxing.” Race gave him a look as Spot sighed. “Want me to reserve the ring for next weekend?”

Picking up Kenzie, Spot gave him a look. “Sure and we can see who’s king of the ring. You’ll always reign supreme running circles around me but I might be able to take you in the ring.”

“Keep up with the trash talk . . . we’ll see who’s still standing and who will get the bragging rights.” Spot gave him a knowing look.

Race held out his hand as Spot interlocked his hand with Race’s with a grin. “You’re on.”

He watched Spot tickle their daughter’s belly as a shrill laugh escaped her mouth. She pushed at his hands as he looked down on her fondly. “Hey Spottie?”

“Yea Race?” Spot looked up from their daughter with a smile on his face.

“If I haven’t said it, you’re a really good dad. I love watching you two interact.” Race said as a fond smile crossed his face.

Spot leaned over and kissed Race. “You’re a really good papa with her. We make a pretty good team, huh?”

Race nodded, reaching over and tickling Kenzie’s stomach as the girl looked at her dads with a gummy smile. In Race’s book, there was no better place he’d rather be than on their front porch with his husband and daughter.

So what did you think? Feedback would be wonderful. If there's something specific you want to see in this verse, feel free to send me a message.

[rainy-day-gracie]

Old Friends 8

So I’ve decided to make the last two chapters of this series like a two part finale almost. 9 and 10 will be the last chapters of Old Friends :(

But I do have more in the works, so don’t cry! Just enjoy this fluffy chapter with Spencer and the team. :))

Spencer Reid x Reader

Chapter 8:

JJ grabbed me by the arm as soon as I walked into the bullpen. 

“Explain to me why Henry is telling me that, I quote, ‘Uncle Spencer is in love with the smart lady.’?”

I just stared at her with wide eyes. “Um, I don’t know, maybe you should ask Spencer.” I tried to get away without grinning, but she kept her grip on my arm, a sly smirk on her face. 

“When you guys babysat Henry he definitely picked up on your flirty little banter, and now he’s constantly talking about how Spencer is so in love with you.” JJ let go of my arm and gave me a knowing glance. 

I was trying to keep from laughing hysterically. “How old is Henry?”

“He’s three.” 

Calming myself down, I walked past her to my desk. “JJ, I’m just going to be honest…” I looked her in the eye, faking seriousness. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

She gave a groan of frustration as Prentiss and Garcia walked past. “What are we talking about?” Prentiss saddled up next to me. “Are we talking about how you and Reid are totally hooking up?”

Garcia gasped. “Yesterday I heard them talking about their favorite French movies… the language of love!”

I raised my hands in the air in mock surrender. “Oh, you caught me! We were talking to each other, whoa!”

All three of the women rolled their eyes, and I could tell they weren’t leaving until they actually got something juicy. 

I sighed. “Okay, I’ve spent the night at his place a few times. Nothing happened,” I added quickly after seeing their scandalized faces. “We just eat ice cream and I crash on his couch. After what happened a few months ago, sometimes it’s hard to be alone.”

They all looked suspicious, but eventually they dropped it. 

I didn’t tell them the total truth, but they didn’t need to know details. 

Yes, we’ve kissed a few times, so what?

After a few minutes of working at my desk, a fresh coffee appeared next to me, and Spencer quickly was walking away. I giggled softly, watching him wink at me from across the bullpen. 

I heard Morgan snort as he was walking up behind my desk. “What, Morgan?” 

“Something fishy is going on with you and pretty boy over there,” Morgan pointed over to where Spencer was sorting through different files. 

“Something fishy? We’re old friends, you know that.” 

Morgan smirked, clearly unconvinced. “Old friends, my ass.”

We all came to attention when we saw Garcia power walking across the catwalk in her heels. “Minions of the BAU, you have a case!”

__

The stunt that I pulled, ignoring Hotch, happened almost a month ago and he was still pissed. I could read it on his face, and it was almost comical to see this normally stone cold leader so heated. 

“I think Dad is still mad at me,” I whispered to Prentiss, and she laughed out loud, drawing the attention of everyone in the briefing room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Spencer with his little sweet puppy smile, the smile he wore when he was happy. 

“Ladies and gents, you are going to San Francisco where there have been three very strange murders, I direct your attention to the photos,” Garcia pointed to the screen. 

She wasn’t lying, the murders were extremely strange. One crime scene appeared to be in a tunnel with a male and female victim. The other crime scene was a medieval execution, a woman hanged using a classic noose. Suicide was ruled out given that her hands and feet were bound and her apartment showed signs of a struggle. All of the victims were in fancy medieval clothing, corsets and all.  

“The only thing connecting all of these kills is the elaborate costumes. Clearly our unsub has a flair for the dramatic. He wants these bodies to be found.” Spencer looked over at me as I cleared my throat. 

“There’s something familiar about these murders, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Looking at the photos, something was ringing in my head but I couldn’t figure out what it was. “Probably the work of a single unsub, the medieval wardrobes practically screams individuality.”

“What I’m worried about is the rate of kills. Two victims in three days is almost a nonexistent cooling off period.” Hotch stood up and scanned the room. “Wheels up in 20. Reid, come see me for a moment.”

Spencer shot me a glance and followed Hotch into his office. 

“That can’t be good.” I muttered to JJ, and she nodded inn agreement.  

__

“So he stabbed the female victim at the first crime scene, and poisoned the male. Those are two completely different MOs.” Everyone was still puzzled at the crime scenes on the plane. Morgan had almost an angry look on his face. “And he hangs the single female? It doesn’t make sense.”

I shook my head. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen this before.’

Prentiss raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think any of us have seen anything like this before.”

Spencer was sitting in the window seat next to me, surprisingly not saying anything. At the back of my mind I wanted to ask him about what Hotch called him in for. 

“I never thought I would get to kiss you again,” Spencer whispered gently. His arm around my shoulders on his couch felt so much like home I forgot that we were also coworkers. 

“Well, you did, so it’s okay,” I smiled up at him and turned back to the TV. In these few short weeks of being a couple again of sorts, my mental health has improved more than in the last six months. Someone would touch me and I wouldn’t flinch anymore, and the nightmares of that damn basement lessened. 

Everything was so easy with Spencer. There was still the same connection of kindred spirits we’ve had since college, and we would talk about the most random, nerdy subjects.

Damn, he made me happy. So, so happy. 

“Everything good?” I murmured to Spencer on the plane. 

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Spencer gave me a reassuring side smile as Hotch began giving assignments. 

“Prentiss, Morgan go to the latest dump site. Look through it in the killer’s eyes. YLN, Reid, go to the station and interview families. Rossi and I will go to the ME. JJ, take care of the press.”

I suddenly got it. Hotch was putting Spencer in to babysit me. That’s what they were talking about. I gave Spencer a look, and he glanced away awkwardly. 

__

“So the first two victims were Rosie Greenlin and Tom Janney, they were both in their early twenties, dating, college students.” I shook my head as I walked up to Spencer. “Parents don’t know anything except that Rosie and Tom were in love, clear as day.”

Spencer sighed as he scanned the crime scene photos. “Betty Wright came from a wealthy family, and her parents say she’s always been very outspoken but kind.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Rosie and Tom both came from wealthy families as well. Could he be targeting the rich?” 

Spencer shrugged, out of ideas for now.

“Hey, did Hotch pull you aside so he could tell you to babysit me?” One look on Spencer’s face told me yes. “He’s afraid I’ll go rogue again.”

Spencer looked guilty and spoke slowly. “He’s just making sure that you don’t…”

I raised my eyebrows when Spencer trailed off. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m not mad, I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

A police officer came into the room as I finished speaking. “There’s another one. Dylan Walker, stabbed then submerged in liquid. But here’s the weird part, he was submerged in a barrel of wine.”

Spencer pulled out his phone. “We need to get everyone here. We’re not going to catch this guy by splitting up.”

__

After everyone got back to the station, we ordered food and threw out ideas. 

“It’s probably this guy’s first time killing, could the varied MO just mean he’s seeing what he likes?” Morgan had the same puzzled expression from earlier, as did most of the team. “Betty Wright was found hanging from a tree on an isolated hill and the coroner said she’d only been there about an hour.”

Spencer shifted in his seat and moved his hands. “The dump sites seem to be crucial to his fantasy, but we just don’t know why.”

I hadn’t said anything since the team got back. “Oh my god,” I whispered, looking at the crime scene photos. “A malmsey butt… a public execution… two deaths in a tunnel…”

The team just stared at me. “What is it, YFN?” Spencer asked. 

I tapped him on the arm, completely astounded that I figured it out. “Remember when we went to see King Lear in college?”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Cordelia was executed by hanging.”

I nodded at him, standing up and looking at the team. “She was executed because she valued love over property, so her father killed her. Betty Wright was known to be very outspoken. Clarence in Richard III was stabbed then submerged in a malmsey butt, or a barrel of wine. Romeo and Juliet both died in an underground tomb, Romeo poisoned himself and Juliet stabbed herself. Rosie and Tom died in a sewage drain underground in the exact same ways.”

“He’s recreating the written deaths of Shakespeare,” JJ concluded. 

“The medieval clothing ties all of it together, the costumes he puts his victims in were common among royalty in Shakespeare’s time.” I looked to Hotch, who wore a microscopic smile on his face. Good job, he seemed to say. 

__

The unsub was Devin McCoy, a former Shakespeare director who lost his job two weeks ago for assaulting one of his actors. Hotch insisted that I stay at the station while they made the arrest, and I grudgingly obliged. Devin came with little resistance, saying that he was creating the art that his actors couldn’t. The whole thing looked like a bad movie when they dragged him into the station. 

Hotch pulled me aside as we were packing up. 

“YLN, I have to say that you did a fantastic job in this case. You saw something in the murders that no one else did, and we would’ve been here a lot longer without you.” I fought the urge to happy cry. Hotch has never complimented me like that. 

“Thank you Hotch. Does that mean Spencer doesn’t have to babysit me anymore?” I asked hopefully. “I have the green light again?”

Hotch gave me a rare smile. “Yes, you have the green light again.”

__

The plane ride was quiet. We took off at midnight, and with the five hour flight, we were all dreading the next day at work. 

I was sitting next to Spencer, who was reading Romeo and Juliet. “How can you read that after the case we just had?”

He looked up and shrugged. “Last time I read this play was in Spanish, so I figured I would read the original English instead.”

I gave him big doe eyes and made a pitched tone. “Oh, Spencer! Spencer! Wherefore art thou Spencer?”

He chuckled and turned away from me. Across the plane, I saw JJ and Prentiss laughing to themselves, most likely at our dorkiness. I smiled and winked at them. 

“I know JJ and Prentiss are watching, otherwise I would kiss you.” Spencer whispered to me, still looking down at his book. 

“Who cares about JJ and Prentiss?” 

His eyes shot up to mine, trying to see if I was joking or not. I gave a devilish smirk, and he laced his hand in my hair. 

Spencer kissed me sweetly, and we pulled away when we heard the applause of everyone on the plane.

“Finally!” Rossi exclaimed. “I’ve been pretending to sleep for 45 minutes!”

@itsarayofsunshine @thesailbells  @squirrellover1967  @softpeteparker @parkeroffline

[waywardodysseys]

The Right One - Chapter Two

Pairing: Single Dad!Chris Evans x female reader

Warnings: fluff

Author’s note: @mug-nificent​ - thank you as always

The Right One: Chapter One

~   ~   ~

The blinking cursor taunts you. It’s thin black line ready to travel over the page as your fingers move across the keyboard. You sigh heavily, hoping the words will come but they don’t. They seem to be right there on the edge, but they never want to appear. You’ve had a difficult time writing lately, especially since your grandmother passed away and the house became the center of your attention.

Your editor has been begging for new work close to four months now. She’d call and pester you about the need for new material and you’d say, “I’m working on it.”

She’d then retort with, “fans are clamoring for the next book Y/N.”

“I know,” you’d hiss at her. You loved your editor but there were times she was a thorn in your side you couldn’t get rid of.

Winter now walks into the room. The jingle of her tags drawing your attention away from the laptop and to her. She sits and looks at you, tilts her head.

You need to get out of the house, out into the fresh air of the world.

“How about we go to the dog park?”

Winter’s tail begins wagging. It doesn’t stop as you get up, walk out of the office and downstairs.

You reach for her leash and stop. Her tattered purple leash hangs next to the red plaid one Chris and Theodore had used to bring her back to you. They hadn’t come by and gotten it. Though it’s only been a few days.

Your fingers trace down the material as you think about the two.

You had noticed who Chris was when you laid your eyes on him, but you had no idea the actor had a son, let alone a girlfriend or wife. You had been living in the country not under a rock and had heard various rumors the actor wanted a family and kids, but he was continuously single after a breakup a couple of years ago.

Winter’s yappy bark removes your focus from your thoughts and back to grabbing the purple leash. You hook the leash on her collar then grab the car keys on the counter.

“Let’s hope the fresh air does us both some good.”

*

The smell of fresh cut grass moves through the breeze as you sit on a bench within the dog park you brought Winter to. Happy dog barks and children playing greet your ears as you eye Winter playing with a couple other dogs.

She had enjoyed the open air and free roam of the farm, just like you had. Both of you had to accustom yourself to life in the suburbs. While you were adjusting to being back in a city, Winter had been raised on the farm, all the dog knew was farm life.

You had known the farm life when you were younger. Living on the family farm every summer until you went to college. You had returned on occasion but remained faithful to finding work in Chicago, spinning out short stories and eventually moving onto novels. You were working on a final book, not your last book, but a final book in a beloved series you held close to your heart.

Maverick was a heroine you had created after a painful breakup, which made you move out to family farm over five years ago. Your grandmother had seen your broken heart and gave you Winter.

“You need something,” she emphasized when she handed you the six-month-old puppy.

You had sighed heavily, knowing you weren’t going to win, and took the fragile puppy into your hands. One eye dark as night, the other eye bright as the snow. You hadn’t like snow for a name therefore deciding on Winter. She had been by your side since.

Then your grandmother had passed away a few months ago, making the holidays unbearable. She had been the only person in your family to understand why you wanted to move away from your parents, to move away from the life you had here once upon a time.

“Can I sit with you?”

A small but familiar voice breaks through your thoughts. You look over into jade green eyes.

You shake your head, “of course you can. Where’s your dad?”

Theo points towards the parking lot. You follow the direction of his arm. “Ladies like my dad a lot, they show up if we leave the house. It’s really annoying sometimes.”

You laugh and smile, “I don’t see anyone bombarding him today.”

Theo huffs and rolls his eyes, “just wait.”

-------

Chris pulls into the parking lot, finds a spot, and parks the SUV. Theo’s already opening the door as Chris removes the keys from the ignition.

“Careful Theo!” Chris calls after him. He smiles looking at Dodger and his son, unsure who is dragging who towards the entrance of the dog park.

His blue eyes roam over the scene before him.

Not a cloud in sight as the bright spring sun shines brightly. Trees budding green leaves as the grass begins to slowly grow in the warmer weather. Children laughing and playing, most at the playground, others inside of the fenced in dog park playing with their beloved pet. Then he spots her.

The neighbor from down the street. Her eyes are searching for her Australian Shepherd, which has made its way towards the entrance to greet Dodger.

Theo unhooks the leash and proceeds towards her. Chris watches as she smiles widely and nods her head, recognizing the young child. He points in Chris’ direction and her eyes follow as her smile remains. She raises her eyebrows and then laughs. Chris is now dying to know what his son had told her.

Chris makes his way towards the entrance, thankful none of the regulars have noticed him. He was getting tired of the attention he got, even in his hometown. Chris walks through the gated entrance to the dog park towards Theo and the neighbor. Their voices carrying over to his ears.

“Why Winter? Because she looks like a snowflake. I would’ve named her snowflake.”

“Because—,” you begin.

Theo continues without taking a breath, “dad has Dodger. I’ve never had a dog before Dodger. I always wanted a dog, but the other foster homes never had any and the group home didn’t allow pets.”

You smile as you take in his words. “I’m sure Dodger enjoys having a kid around.”

Theo smiles brightly, “he sleeps in my room on my bed with me. He used to sleep with dad, but dad said I need protecting so dad told him to watch over me and now Dodger sleeps in my room. On my bed.”

“Well your dad’s not wrong. A dog protects fiercely, just like a parent does,” you reply, finally able to get in a word between Theodore’s rapid firing of information.

Chris laughs and shakes his head. Theo was full of questions. What kid wouldn’t be? He admires your understanding as you try to get in a word edgewise and answer his questions.

“Theo,” Chris remarks as he approaches the bench, “go find a ball and get Dodger moving. We need to wear him out. Maybe get Winter worn out too. I’m sure our friendly neighbor would like a quiet evening at home with her dog resting.”

“Okay,” Theo sighs heavily as he gets up and walks away.

Chris hears you chuckle as he watches his son find one of the many tennis balls on the ground and calls Dodger and Winter. He then proceeds to move his eyes to you.

“Thank you,” Chris utters.

“You’re welcome.” Knowing Chris appreciated you for engaging with Theo and not turning him away.

You two are quiet as you both watch Theo play with Dodger and Winter. The two dogs playing happily together. You smile and lower your head. Winter’s only interactions with other dogs were here and she rarely played with other dogs because she was more focused on you and being your side.

You clear your throat as the silence begins to become too much, “your son said he was in foster care. How long ago did you adopt him?”

Chris glances at you sideways then sighs, “beginning of the week.”

“Still trying to figure out each other?”

“We’ve done relationship building activities for the past two months while everything was getting approved. Gone dozens of places, met my family. I’ve kept everything hidden from the outside world. I’m not ready for people to know I’m a dad.”

“But you are a dad. An official one. And by the looks of things,” you point to the small boy chasing the two dogs, “a good one too.”

“I’ve wanted my own family for a few years but with my work I couldn’t find the time. Couldn’t find the right person,” Chris utters under his breath.

“And now you have the time with the superhero business behind you.”

Chris gives a lopsided smile, “so I guess you do know who I am.”

“I do but I’m not intrigued by that perspective of you. I’m intrigued by the man who gave that,” you point once again towards Theodore, “kid a chance.”

“I saw him, heard his giggly laugh and knew he was the one. Glad I took the chance. I wouldn’t exchange him for another kid.”

“He’s enthralled by you. Must be excited that Captain America is his dad. I’m sure you’d be willing to take a chance on another kid.”

Chris shrugs, “I’d love a daughter too. Best of both worlds. Maybe a couple of years down the road I’ll adopt a girl,” Chris turns towards you, “what about you?”

You shrug, “not much to tell. Grew up in the Midwest, spent my summers on the family farm out here. My grandmother owned the house I’m currently living in.”

“Family farm?”

“Up near Princeton. My uncle and his wife lived there before they retired and moved down to Florida. They had no kids, left the place to me about seven years ago. I officially moved in five years ago after a painful breakup.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You shrug, “it’s fine. It’s in the past. I created something from it and I’m proud of my creation.”

Chris raises his eyebrows, “creation?”

You smirk, “stop by a bookstore. You know my name.”

-------

A couple hours later Chris is driving Theo and Dodger home when he drives by Concord Bookshop. He looks over at Theo.

“You mind if we stop at the bookstore?”

Theo smiles, “can I get some books on dinosaurs?”

Chris grins and laughs, “of course buddy.”

Theo throws his arms in the air, “yes!”

Once inside the local bookstore, Chris finds a bookseller while Theo wonders off to the children’s section.

“Excuse me?”

The older gentleman looks at Chris over his glasses. “How may I help you?”

“I am looking for anything by Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The older gentleman thinks, “do you want Creative Rebirth or the Maverick series?”

“Uh, I was given her name on a recommendation.”

“Her Creative Rebirth is a self-help slash journal project. The Maverick series is fantasy. Dark, gritty, apocalyptic.”

“Both.” Chris remarks.

The older gentleman begins moving his feet through some of the displays and tall bookcases, leading Chris over to the Self-Help section. The man scans a shelf and pulls out a book, handing it over to Chris.

Chris begins to flip through the pages of the paperback book.

“She explains how creativity gives someone a chance to reinvent themselves, a chance to remake who they are and move on from the past. I recommend you check out the website, plenty of people post their creative innovations on it.”

“Thanks,” Chris whispers.

“Let me take you to the Sci-Fi section,” the bookseller leads Chris to another part of the bookstore. “After she wrote Creative Rebirth, she decided to follow through with her own advice and began writing the Maverick series.”

*

After getting Theo and Dodger into bed, Chris makes his way through the house towards his bedroom. He did miss the four-legged dog in his bed but knew Dodger was attached to the kid since they had first met a couple of months ago.

Once Chris was in comfortable clothes and settled into his own bed, he grabs the copy of Creative Rebirth and turns to the first page - 

I stared into two eyes – one dark as night, one bright as day. I was lost, forever lost in those eyes. My grandmother told me I needed something when she handed me the six-month-old puppy. She was right but my grandmother didn’t know this six-month-old puppy was going to be my saving grace.

~

My heart was broken in the budding days of spring in the year 2013. I remember the day clearly even though a pounding thunderstorm was beating down over the city of Chicago.

Tags: @random066​, @denisemarieangelina​, @cheeseburgersstuff​, @tessa-bl​, @straightforwardly​, @fallenoutofrose​, @dwights-new-plague​, @firstangeldragonranch​, @cmalass, @memoriesat30​

[missaudreyhorney]

Little Magnum

Anon requested the idea of adopting a puppy with Jim Hopper and who am I to say no to something so fluffy and adorable? Major help was provided by chiefharbour here on Tumblr, plus harboursouce and hideloveaway on Instagram.  

1.9k words of self-indulgent silliness and mentions of other ST characters. 

Your friend’s dog escaped from her yard about 5 months ago and had herself a wild night on the town, getting pregnant with a litter of mixed-breed puppies. Most of them had been given out to different families but there was one pup left, a little boy with white patches on his honey-colored fur. El had subtly mentioned to you that she’d never had a pet before and you wanted so badly to get her one, as it would make her time alone at the cabin a lot less boring and isolating. There was just one last obstacle and his name was Jim Hopper.

Since he speaks very little about his childhood, you had no idea if Hopper ever had a dog before, or even any type of pet at all. Based upon the little he has told you, it was easy to assume that if he ever had a dog, it was strictly for hunting and probably slept outside or in a shed. That’s not the way you grew up though. You’ve always had pets and they’ve always been like family to you. You knew it was going to be hard to sell him on the idea of getting a puppy, but that’s why you had your strategy well planned out. All you had to do was tell Hop that the two of you were going to visit a friend of yours and once he saw the dog himself, he wouldn’t need much convincing.

On a Friday after work, he picked you up and drove you over to Jill’s house. As Hopper entered her living room, his eyes immediately went to the dog. He walked over to it and crouched down onto one knee. “What’s up, little guy?” he said, letting it smell his hand before he pet it. The puppy lavished the back of his hand with endless licks, causing Hopper to chuckle. This was easily the happiest you’d seen him in weeks, if not months. Within the first thirty seconds of him interacting with the dog, you could already sense a connection being made. He talked to it in a tone of voice that you’d never heard before. “You got sharp little teeth, don’t ya, boy?” The puppy rolled onto it’s back and Hopper rubbed its belly. “Yes, you do! Yes, you do.” You clamped your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. This was the first time you’d ever seen him act this way.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” you asked. “Yeah, he’s adorable. How old is he?” “Nine weeks,” Jill answered. “You’re just a baby, huh?” Hopper cooed at the dog while you and Jill exchanged a knowing look. “The vet said that’s a perfect age for them to find a new home.” He didn’t react, he just kept playing with the puppy. “You hear that, Hop?” “Yeah...” he answered slowly.

All the humor and happiness drained from his face as he connected the dots. “No,” he replied simply. “What do you mean? ‘No’ what?” you feigned ignorance. “Absolutely not,” he continued with a stern expression. You glanced over at Jill on the couch as she drank her Tab and minded her own business.  

“Can you excuse us?’ Hopper asked in his most charming voice. “We’re just gonna go outside for a minute.” Jill nodded, “Sure thing, hon.” The two of you left and stood on her porch. Smiling up at him expectantly, you took one of his hands in yours. “We’re not getting a dog,” he told you flatly, “especially not a puppy.” Your shoulders drooped with disappointment. “Why not?” you whined. “Because I said so,” he stated calmly. “That’s not fair,” you whined again.

“I don’t care if it’s fair. I work long hours, and when I get home, I need to be able to relax. I don’t have time to be chasing after a little dog, making sure it’s not chewing everything up.”

“Come on, Hop,” you pleaded, “I promise I’ll take care of it. You’ll still be able to relax.” You held both of his hands in yours. “Dogs are a man’s best friend, remember? You can do some male bonding together. He’ll be like the son you never had.” Hopper rolled his eyes at you dramatically, knowing you were laying it on extra thick to persuade him.

“What about El? I’ve never seen her interact with a dog, what if she’s scared of them?” “She’s fine with it,” you said matter of factly. “What do you mean ‘she’s fine with it’? How do you know?” his voice went up with a tinge of anger. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her we’re getting a dog. She just dropped a few hints to me before about not having a pet, so when Trixie got pregnant, I asked El what she thought about dogs and she told me she got along great with Will’s before it ran away.” You regretted saying those words as soon as they escaped your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to know that this was a setup.

Hopper took a step forward, his body closer to yours, his beautiful blue eyes glared down at you. “You little brat,” he scolded playfully, “you planned this all behind my back, didn’t you?” You pressed your top and bottom lips together tightly to suppress a smile. “You probably already have a name picked too.” You burst into a fit of giggles. “Magnum,” you declared. “Magnum,” he repeated with a chuckle and scrubbed his large hand over his face.

Determined and unfazed, you continued your pitch. “I wish you could have seen yourself in there. The way your face lit up. Can you imagine the look on El’s face if we bring home this puppy? Can you imagine how happy and surprised she’ll be?”

He gave a heavy sigh as a slow smile spread across his rugged features. “Alright,” Hopper said decisively. ”Let’s go back inside and get Magnum P-U-P.” You ignored his terrible dad joke like you often do. “Really? Are you sure?” you inquired as he opened the screen door. “I think my mind’s already been made up for me,” he replied. “You’re right. It has,” you stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek before you entered the house again.

As soon as the door opened, the dog ran to him and he scooped it up into his arms. “Guess what, little guy? You’re coming home with us.” The puppy licked Hopper’s face, almost appreciatively as if it understood what was going on. You couldn’t have been any happier if you tried. As the vigorous licking continued, he scrunched up his face. “Okay, that’s enough,” Hopper laughed then handed you the dog.

“I’m so glad you’re taking the little terror off my hands,” Jill joked as she gave half a bag of puppy food to Hop. He shot you a regretful look that you pretended to ignore. “We’re glad too, aren’t we?” you suggested and he rolled his eyes at you. “Yes,” he answered, his look of annoyance fading into a genuine smile. The three of you left in the Blazer and drove straight to the feed store to get a collar, leash, and new bag of puppy food.

In the month that has passed since then, things have been somewhat chaotic, with Magnum living up to his reputation as a terror. Every other word out of Hopper’s mouth seems to be “Magnum!” as he is constantly reprimanding the dog for something or other. Usually for tinkling in the house, as all puppies his age do. You’ve basically having to train them both; the dog to go outside, and Hop to take him out on the leash instead of letting him just roam around the woods by himself.

The puppy barks his tiny head off whenever Mike comes over, growling and even biting the boy if he tries to pet him. It’s the only bad behavior that Hopper actively encourages from the dog. Other than the unexplained animosity towards her boyfriend, El and Magnum get along swimmingly, with him being at his most calm when he’s around her, frequently sitting on her lap as they watch tv together. It’s probably because of the bacon you’ve caught her slipping to him during breakfast.

One of Magnum’s worst habits is that he’s a sock thief. Not just any socks though, they have to be Hopper’s. He ignores any that belong to you or El, as if he’s a sock connoisseur and those just aren’t up to snuff. You’ve found them hidden all over the cabin, though they’re most often under the bed or in between the couch cushions. While he is content with stealing them off the floor, his favorite method of theft is to take them directly off of Hopper’s feet. He bites the end and shakes his little head back and forth until they’re wiggled and yanked all the way off. Sometimes Hop gets mad, especially when the puppy accidentally nips his toes, but a lot of the time he allows it to happen because it’s just so stinking cute to watch.

For as much as Hopper complains about the dog, you know it’s just a facade. You keep finding empty bags of treats on the counter. On multiple occasions, you have arrived home to see that he’s been given a new chew toy. You’ve come across Polaroids not only of Magnum by himself, usually in those seemingly rare moments of slumber, but also of Hopper holding the puppy on his shoulder. The last time you were at the station, you caught him showing some of them to Flo as if they were baby pictures. The thing that truly cemented his love for the dog was the sight you discovered tonight.

You having to work on the weekend and El spending all day at the Wheeler’s house left Hop and Magnum alone by themselves. When your shift is over, you almost dread going back to the cabin, having no idea what type of disaster you’re going to be coming home to. As you unlock the front door, it’s eerily quiet inside, so quiet that it causes you to become concerned. There doesn’t appear to be any disaster at all when you walk in, which would be a relief if it wasn’t so far out of the ordinary.

“Hop?” you call out as you put your things down by the door. “Hopper?” you repeat a moment later and a bit louder when there’s no answer. A feeling of worry growing in your belly, you creep over to the bedroom and slowly move the curtain. Stealthily peeking your head inside, your mouth instantly curls into a smile. Sprawled on the bed is all six feet and three inches of Chief Jim Hopper snuggling with tiny little Magnum as they’re both fast asleep.

The sight not only puts your mind at ease but warms your heart. Up until now, Hopper hasn’t allowed Magnum to sleep on the bed, instead having him sleep on an area rug with a baby blanket on the floor. You almost want to take a picture, if not for your own sake, for the sake of hearing what Powell and Callahan would say. You refrain, however, knowing that the flash would likely disturb their rest. Instead, you slip into your pajamas and curl up in bed with your two favorite guys, feeling so grateful for the little family you have created.

[simmonsofshield]

The Last Thing

Pairings: Y/N Stacy & Peter Parker

Summary: Peter is not dealing with his friend’s death very well. Loosely based on true and personal events.

Words: ~2900

Warnings: Mentions of death. Yelling. Blaming.

A/N:  AU, Peter and Gwen are friends. Y/N is Gwen’s older sister. Gwen is an Avenger and has been in all the fights instead of Peter. This is for @jbbarnesnnoble​​‘s mental health awareness challenge. I chose “How do you even begin to move on?” It won’t be a quote, but it’ll be in bold. Takes place after Endgame.

Dear Peter,

I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’ve never been known to anyways. If you’re reading this, that means I’m either dead or in some sort of close-to-death coma, probably the former.

I’m writing this the day before I leave for Berlin. Sorry I didn’t tell you about it but Tony Stark came to me so I’m assuming it has to stay on the DL. Yeah, you read that right. Tony freaking Stark! He hasn’t told me much but I’m assuming some sort of drama with the Accords. Why he came to me and not you, I’m not sure. Maybe just because I go out more and there’s more youtube videos of me than you. Or maybe he didn’t want the “friendly neighborhood Spiderman.” He wanted someone tougher. Haha just kidding.

Anywho... back to the reason for this letter. I want you to take my place. Queens still needs someone to take care of it, and since I’m no longer around, it’s gotta be you. We were both in that lab and got bit by those radioactive spiders. Who thought making spiders radioactive was a good idea anyways? We went through all the weird hardships with these new powers together and managed without anyone finding out….except my sister. (and apparently Tony Stark.)

Speaking of Y/N, I’m putting her in your care. You are now responsible for her. I’m only kind of sorry. She’s the only one that knows about this letter.

Hopefully you don’t have to read this immediately following this impromptu trip to Berlin, or at all in 2016. Or, you know, ever. Hopefully I can grow old and retire SpiderGwen. Wait, those are two different things, let me rephrase that: hopefully I can stop saving the day around 25 and then retire when I’m old and wrinkly and burn this letter so you never have to even know it existed.

If you are reading this and made it this far, I want you to know that I believe in you. It is hard being a hero. Sometimes  you have to make tough decisions, but you’re a smart guy. I know you will be great. Better than me, probably.

You’re the best basically-brother I could ever ask for. Spiderman is destined for great things. I know it.

Gwen

Present day, May 2023

When it first happened - when half the universe was brought back - Y/N came looking for Peter immediately. After that first weird day back to school, she found him..and that was weird too. She used to only be one year older than him and Gwen, and now she was clearly 6 years older than him. She’d asked if he’d seen her in class, and he said no. She covered her mouth and started crying right there. It confused him at the time, but in hindsight, he realized she knew at that moment that Gwen was dead. Her family got the call from Nick Fury himself that night.

Besides the big bad, Thanos he thinks, there were only two casualties. “Only” two on the heroes side, when there’s usually zero. They were Gwen and Tony Stark. So not only did Peter lose his best friend, he lost his idol as well, and even though he never got to meet him, it still hurts. A little. He died bringing back the half of humanity that was blipped, a truly heroic act, but Gwen died so that that could happen. She’s hardly ever mentioned in news reports or anything.

It’s been almost two months. TWO.

Peter read the letter again. He did almost once a day. The fold creases were already very worn and the page had been stained with tears many times over. He still just couldn’t believe she was actually gone. Being brought back after getting blipped was enough to deal with but now his closest friend was dead. What was the most frustrating was that he didn’t know how. He wasn’t allowed to. SHIELD classified it and only the immediate family could know. You hadn’t told him everything, but you did say something about her getting caught in some crossfire. That’s all you were allowed to say.

He sat in the stairwell of his and Aunt May’s Queens apartment while he waited for you to arrive. He was zoned out thinking and didn’t even hear you come up the stairs.

“Peter?” he snapped back to reality and looked at you, eyes sad, “you ready?”

He nodded and stood up, shoving his hands in his shorts pockets. He trudged down the stairs and met you at the landing, then walking side by side down the rest to ground level. Exiting the complex, you put your arm around his shoulders walking the already too familiar route. What had happened was still fresh and you two had decided to visit Gwen’s grave once a week, tell her what had been going on, if anything.

The first few times were okay, but recently, Peter hadn’t been saying anything. He just kneels in front of her grave, head down, and cries. You really felt for the kid, you did. His parents died when he was 6, his uncle Ben 3 years ago (since he was blipped), and now his best friend-basically-sister. He’s only 16 and has dealt with more death than anyone at that age should. How do you even begin to move on? The gaps are big, but that doesn’t make any of them hurt less. Especially when they’re all family.

After a few minutes of silent sobs, you place your hand on his shoulder. He stands up and steps aside, so you can have your time. You look at him and give him a soft smile of thanks. He looks at you for a millisecond before looking back at the ground, wiping away stray tears.

You approach her gravestone, putting your hand on it, brushing your fingers along it and tracing the letters of her name. You speak softly, as if just to her. “Gwenny, I need help. Your help. This has been hard on Peter. You were his best friend and now he just seems like a lost puppy without you around. I know he has Ned and MJ, but a big chunk of him is missing without you here,” you cough out a sob, “I just want the old Petey back. I don’t expect it tomorrow, or next week, or even next month, but I need it. I want some sort of normalcy back in my life,” your next sob comes out with a little bit of a laugh, “look at me, talking to a grave like I’m talking to an actual human. You’d totally give me crap for this.” you sigh, “It’s just-- being six years older than him now instead of just one makes it hard. We’re in such different places in our lives. He just finished his freshman year of high school, and I’m in college now...” you trail off, forgetting where you were going with it. Standing up, you give one last tap to the gravestone. “Bring him back. Oh-” You dig in your purse and pull out a charm bracelet. You crouch back down and lay it right next to the base where the grass is a little bit taller. You wear an identical one. “Mom and dad are doing fine..well, as well as you could expect. There are some rough nights, but we’re managing.”

Emotions were still running high at home. You’d lost your sister, and your parents, their youngest child. There was a lot of fighting and blaming, despite heroism being Gwen’s choice. She’d told you once that she’d been given the powers for a reason. If bad things happened and she did nothing, it was basically her fault. You never really agreed with the sentiment, but she insisted and went on helping out the people of Queens, eventually roping Peter into it.

A lot of the time the blame fell on you, your father wondering why you weren’t with Gwen and Peter the day they got bit. You take it, as it’s his way of mourning and relieving his anger. He’s looking for answers that he’ll never get. Your mom is mostly silent, save for the fights. You two usually end up drinking a bottle or two of wine before tottling off to bed, drowning your sorrows.

The walk back is silent, as usual. You were both mourning and it was always emotionally draining after a visit and hard to make conversation. You’re about 2/3 of the way back before you decide to try. “I, uh, noticed you had the letter in the stairwell.” You feel a shift and see as his hand goes to his pocket. “Pete, why?” You sigh, not in disappointment, mostly in exhaustion but a little bit of curiosity too.

He looks down, an exhale coming from his nose, “It’s the last thing I have of her.”

You let out a soft gasp. That hadn’t even crossed your mind, it was the last physical thing Gwen had touched and given - by way of you - to him. “Oh, Petey.” You run your fingers through his hair a few times before letting your arm rest limply over his shoulders. He pushes it off, stopping in his tracks and looks at you with an expression you don’t recognize. He mumbles something and you stop waking as well, leaning forward a little. “Peter?”

“Tony did this.”

“To-”

“Tony Stark! He’s the one who recruited her. He’s the one that put her on this path.” he paces back and forth in anger. “If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be a part of the Avengers and she wouldn’t be dead.”

“Peter...” you know what he’s doing. In fact, you went through and did the same thing just a couple weeks ago. “You know he’s not to blame. She’s the one who wanted to help the community, just like you,” you reasoned, “it was only a matter of time before she caught the eye of the Avengers.”

He ignored you, turning on his heels. “I need to talk to him.”

“Y-you can’t. Peter..” you stand there, stunned for a moment, “Peter.” you call out. He doesn’t respond and you quickly move from your place on the sidewalk and jog a little to try to catch up. You forgot how quickly he could walk when he was on a mission. “Peter!”

“What?!” he turns around, fire in his eyes. You actually cower a little, never hearing this tone come out of his mouth before.

“Uhm..” your voice is meek at first as you try to figure out what to say and recover from the surprise his outburst gave you, “you can’t go talk to Tony.”

“And why not?”

“He,” you swallow the lump in your throat, speaking softly not out of fear now, but to bring down the information as delicately as you could, “he died that night too. Remember?”

He blinks and there seems to be a flicker of remembrance and realization. It quickly changes back to anger and he looks you dead in the eyes, pointing. “Then it’s your fault!”

“W-what?”

“Yeah. You’re the one that let her go to Berlin. She would’ve listened to you. If you had told her no, she wouldn’t have gone. It’s your fault!” he continues pointing his finger at you, his voice rising as he talked. You hadn’t even realized you were moving until you were suddenly backed into the wall of a corner store, or maybe a restaurant, you didn’t really take the time to figure out where you were on the street.

You could feel your breath beginning to shallow the more he talked. You had no idea what was going to happen, and with him being enhanced, he was unpredictable. “Peter...” was all you could muster up, hoping just saying his name would somehow take him out of this trance he was in. It didn’t work and if you hadn’t looked down to look away from his face, you wouldn’t have noticed his other hand beginning to ball into a fist. Your eyes widened and you looked back at him, tears threatening to fall. “Peter, please.”

It didn’t phase him. “It’s your fault!” he yells and you see his fist rise and you dodge out of the way in the nick of time, now in a crouched position.

You hear his fist connect with the wall, “Fuck!” Under different circumstances, you’d be surprised and sarcastically scold him because you’ve never heard him swear, ever. At the moment though, you’re now seated against the wall, breathing hard and tears falling silently.

“Y/N?” He crouches down and puts a hand on your shoulder, which you slink away from. At this point, as if it were a movie, mother nature decided it had to rain. All you hear is the soft pattering of the rain on the sidewalk for a moment before you hear some soft whimpering. You look around, and see a few feet from you, Peter sitting and hugging his knees, head down.  

You stand up, and walk over to him, not announcing your presence in any way, and sit next to him. Taking his hand in yours, you begin inspecting his knuckles. “You’re lucky you have super strength. Otherwise that wall would have done a number on your hand. More than just some scratches and it looks like probably some bruising.” The only reply you get is some breathy sobs. “Okay,” keeping his hand in yours, you stand up and urge him up too, “let’s get you home.”

He doesn’t argue and slowly begins to walk home, with your aid. Your arm is once again around his shoulders and he doesn’t push it away this time. The whole walk back is silent, as expected. The both of you now more tired than before, physically and emotionally.

When you arrive back at Peter’s apartment, you enter, May leaving it unlocked. She’s on the couch watching tv. She turns around with a smile to greet you guys, but it quickly turns to a frown when she sees the state the two of you are in. You see her mouth open about to ask a question and you shake your head. She closes it and stands, walking over to Peter’s bedroom door and opening it for the two of you. You nod a thank you and walk in.

Peter still seems to be in a daze when you sit him down at his desk. You scan his room looking for a towel, seeing clothes and books strewn about, assuming he ‘lost’ his backpack again. “Well, I see you have a project for tomorrow,” you try to joke, despite the fact that you began picking up his clothes and putting them in the hamper in his closet. You hear a soft hmm? and look over at him. He’s looking at you, eyes red but only a little puffy.

You finally find his bath towel, halfway under his bed. Picking it up, you shake it a couple times to get any dust bunnies off and walk over to him. You can feel his eyes on you as you dry the rain off his arms and legs, but you continue. You dab off his neck and rub his hair a few times, getting as much off as you can before moving to his face. He jerks away and wipes his forehead with his arm before looking at you, as if studying you. You sit back a little, unsure, wondering what he’s going to do.

He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to gather the courage to speak to you. It takes a couple more seconds before he does. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh Peter,” you coo softly, “it’s okay.”

He slaps his hand on his desk, “No it’s not!” seeing you jump, he realized what he did, “s-sorry.” he says barely above a whisper.

“It’s not,” you agree, “but you’re mourning. I’m going through the same thing at home. You know this. I can take a few angry words.”

“But I blamed you, tried to hurt you.”

You nod, “I will admit I was a little scared when you tried to hit me,” he looks down, scared to make eye contact, “but,” you use your finger to lift his chin, “I got out of the way and you didn’t. Guess I gotta thank Gwen for taking me to some of those self defense classes so I could help her train.” You say the last part with a smile.

For what you’re pretty sure is the first time that night, Peter smiles too. You use your hand and wipe away the remaining tears on his face. “There he is.”

You get up on your knees, about to stand up, when he pulls you into a hug. You let out at squeak of surprise but quickly melt into it. Then, you suddenly begin to cry.

“Y/N?” he doesn’t pull out of the hug but you can hear the concern in his voice.

You sniffle and wipe away your tears, letting out a kind of cry-laugh. “I’m just glad, that at least for tonight, you’re back to the Peter that I know. I’ve missed your smile.” You feel him hug you a little tighter.

For Avory

[crimsonbluemoon]

For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.> 

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.” 

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.” 

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him. 

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on. 

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country. 

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again. 

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”   

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries. 

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times. 

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.” 

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image. 

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug. 

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest. 

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would. 

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan. 

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could. 

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact. 

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around. 

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy. 

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!” 

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.” 

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear. 

“So worth it.”

[untilmynextstory]

It’s not bad living in Charming. Nathan didn’t think it would be. It’s a little jarring being in his first home. The brick is welcoming and the interior is warm. It’s familiar. Despite his mom not stepping a foot here in years, it’s weird feeling her presence. It’s almost disappointing waking up in the morning and heading into the kitchen not seeing her or even Kaylee. His mind wonders how Ben would be as a child.

His dad is trying though. His dad makes it a point to have breakfast every morning. Sometimes, his grandma will take him to school, but his dad drops him off to Stockton. It sometimes feels like he hasn’t lived with him for an extended period of time. There are just the little things from how his sheets don’t smell the same as what his mom uses that makes the truth of his living situation known. Also, Nathan can admit his mom absolutely babied him. So he doesn’t expect his dad to wake him up with kisses or for the five minute hugs because his mom can’t let him go.  

He can tell Gemma loves him being back home. There is a weekly dinner at her house. She’s been spoiling him with new clothes, accessories, and the general hoovering.

Still even with the new friends and being back with his dad’s family, he misses his mother. He knew he was going to miss her, but he didn’t think it would be this bad. He calls her every night. They both give each other a run down of their days. He is thankful for technology that they can video call. At first, he would take the calls in his room. He is still uncertain about where his parents stand with each other.

He knows there is not any hate between them. Just a lot of hurt. His dad had been truthful about what happened between him and his mom. Nathan can admit. He does blame his dad a lot. He thinks when his dad told him the full truth he may have even said he hated him. He hurt his family.  If anything it made Nathan want to protect his mother even more. It’s why he kept the video calls for his room, but his mom had called him early one day and he happened to be in the kitchen with his dad. His mom was always excited about the littlest things. She had planted a butterfly garden and had been so excited to show him the butterflies. His dad had been making them something to eat and the next thing he knew his dad had his phone while he and his mom talked about whatever.

So now, a portion of his calls are taken over by them asking how each other were. It just makes him feel even more guilt that he is keeping his suspicions and concerns from his father.

Nathan is sitting on the couch. His body is tired from football practice and he really just wants to sleep. He is dozing off slightly as his mom sends him pictures of the nails she did today.

“Your mom said it’s alright for you to go to bed.”

Nathan jumps at the sound of his dad’s voice. He thought his dad was going to be gone all of Saturday.

“What?” Nathan asks, confused.

“She just texted saying you sent her a bunch of letters and you only do that when you are tired.”

Nathan furrows his brows and looks down at his phone and he sees the text that is just a bunch of random letters.

“You and Mom are texting?” Nathan inquires.

“About you.” His dad replies.

Nathan eyes his father. It’s weird looking in his dad’s eyes knowing he has the same ones. His mother always told him that he had his father’s eyes. He sees things the way his dad does. He doesn’t know if she was happy about that.

He knows his father isn’t a saint clearly. His mother is a married woman. He just knows that things are complicated. He is protective over his mother and his dad has hurt her before.

“How did you do it?” He asks his father.

“Do what?”

“Let Mom go.” Nathan remembers that day. The day his mom had made the decision to end things. His Dad didn’t fight for her, not really. He just let her go.

His dad sighs and joins him on the couch. His dad doesn’t say anything for a couple minutes. “Your mom’s happiness...it means more to me than me keeping her here. It means more than my own happiness. I can’t blame her for leaving. I pushed her to make that choice.”

“Why didn’t you fight harder?” Nathan asks.

“Nate...I probably would’ve pushed her further away. It’s -”

“Don’t say it’s complicated because it’s really not.” Nathan fires back. “You guys could’ve gone to marriage counseling. Mom missed you so much. Do you understand how hard those six months were?” Nathan asks his father. His mother was miserable. He knows she tried to hide it. She always put him before everything and left no room for her to grieve - to move on. “Mom just wanted you to make things right because you fucked up. Then she met Vitaly and that is just…” Nathan trails off. He clasps his mouth shut.

“What about the Russian?” His dad asks.

“It’s nothing.” Nathan shakes with a shake of his head. “Just whatever you two are doing. Just don’t hurt her again.” .. Nathan could care less about the homecoming dance, football, and even his date. All he cares about is that this is the second weekend his mom is coming down to visit him, but the first weekend she is going to stay for a bit. He has been counting down the days and he had been able to convince his mom to save money and just stay with him and his dad. He had been able to use some puppy eyes and begging and his mom caved. It wasn’t like Vitaly was going to know. The man couldn’t even be bothered with coming.

Nathan had woken up way early due to his excitement. His mom was coming in the morning on Friday although he would be in school when she would arrive. She was just staying for the weekend unfortunately. She would be leaving on Monday morning after he left for school.

He had been barely paying attention all day during school. He just wanted to see his mother. He rushed out of school not paying attention to what his friends were saying to him. He expected to see his dad or grandma, but he is pleasantly shocked to see his mom standing outside of her car. He runs over to his mom and wraps his arms around her and twirls her around.

She begs him to stop while laughing, but it is their thing since he has inherited his father’s height and his mom is such a tiny thing.

She giggles as he puts her down and gives her a real hug.

“I take it someone missed me.”

“I missed you so much, Mom.” He tells her and his body relaxes at her familiar scent of oranges that seems imprinted on her skin.

“I’m here now, baby. I missed you too.” She tells him.

. . . “When did you get in?” Nathan asks his mother when they make their way back to Charming.

“Around noon.”

“Was Dad there?”

Alma nods her head. “Yeah, despite me still having the key. I’m surprised the house is clean. Gemma cleaning up after you two?”

Nathan snorts. “No. Dad actually gave me a chore list. It’s how I make my allowance.”

Alma looks over at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, Mom. It sucks.”

She laughs. “Now you know how I felt when I had to clean up after you, Dad, and Kaylee. At least Kaylee would help.”

Nathan smiles at the mention of his sister. He has noticed as the years go by, grief has been kinder to his mom. She can mention Kaylee freely. She still struggles with Ben, but she isn’t scared to talk about things Kaylee used to do.

“It’s not weird being back in the house is it?” He asks hesitantly.

“There’s nothing but good memories in that house.” His mom assures him.

Nathan nods his head and believes her. “So tell me about the shop?”

His mom smiles and it takes over her whole face.  

. . .

“So Alma’s here?” Gemma asks her son.

She knows Nathan has been downright giddy about his mom visiting. Gemma has noticed her son has been more subdued and almost nervous. She also noticed since Nathan has made home in Charming her son doesn’t mess around with croweaters that much or at all.

“Yeah. She is picking up Nathan from school right now. So you need to be nice.”

“When am I not?” Gemma asks.

“Ma…” Jax warns.

“Is her husband coming down to visit?” That gets a reaction out of Jax as he clenches his jaw.

“No. It’s just Alma.”

“Staying at your place?”

Jax’s blue eyes pin down on her. “If you have something to say just say it, Ma.”

“She’s not your Old Lady anymore, Jax. You don’t need to get caught in between her and her marriage.” Gemma isn’t blind to the fact her son still wants Alma. She knows Alma still has her son wrapped around her fingers. She knows Alma would never do anything to take advantage of Jax’s feelings. It just worried Gemma with how the two of them could fall back into old habits. They don’t need to piss off any Russians.  

“No drama, Ma, for Nathan, please.”

“I promise.”

. . .

Jax isn’t surprised that Alma is the mom to have a custom made hoodie proudly displaying their son’s jersey number. In fact, Alma is a pro at tailgating and mingling with other parents of athletes. He notices that this is her element. He hurts a bit in his chest to think that she had given this up a bit with Nathan living with him. It hurts to think he missed out on Alma being the doting mom and cheering for her son.

It hurts even worse seeing all of the club here for Nathan’s game and how it feels so normal with Alma between all of them. It is as if the past five years haven’t happened. They are a family together and happy.

Alma did have to do some convincing for Nathan to enjoy a party after the game. It tugs at his heart to see his son so attached to his mother. He knows that mother and son have a profound bond that is greater than the bond between him and Nathan. Jax isn’t jealous, but it makes it more obvious that he had fucked up their family.

It’s even more evident how the guys are craving her attention now. She and Bobby had a very in depth discussion about baking. She had scolded Piney for being reckless with his health. Tig had already roped her into a game of pool.

His mom was even being genuine in her conversation about some of the nail designs she would like if Alma had time to do them.

It’s glimpses of simple things he pissed away by being an asshole.

And he knows he is playing with fire, as he somehow convinced her to let him take her out to eat.

“He is growing up so fast, Jax.” Alma laments as they sit in Lumpy’s diner.

“I know.” Jax agrees.

“He isn’t giving you any trouble is he?”

“You know he’s not. Boy is very self sufficient. Don’t know if it is because he is scared to ask me for anything though.” Jax admits. Sometimes, he can feel a distance between him and his son. Jax knows that at the end of the day there is probably some lingering resentment Nathan holds to him.

“Just give it some time. But I assure you, Nathan is adamant on doing things himself for the most part.”

Jax smiles. “It’s nice having him back through. I feel bad for taking him away from you though.”

“You didn’t take him away from me, Jax. Nathan does like being back home in Charming.Besides, you’ll get all those fun teenage years.”

Jax laughs. “Let’s hope he doesn’t repeat our decisions.”

“I don’t know he has been telling me he’s been talking to Tristen lately.”

“Oswald?”

Alma nods her head.

“Great. Exactly what we need.”

Alma giggles. “I think I would make a pretty hot grandma.”

“Al, please no,” Jax says as he covers his eyes.

Alma’s giggling is cut short when her phone goes off. Jax uncovers his eyes and he watches Alma’s mood dim a little. She begins to move out of her booth. “I’ll be back.”

Jax nods his head as he watches Alma walk away and out to the front. He keeps his eyes trained on her as she listens to the caller. She keeps her back to him. He can’t hear her, but there is a lot of head nodding and shaking her head. The phone call only lasts about 3 minutes. He watches as she looks at her phone before she slowly slides it back into her back pocket. He acts distracted by the plate of food their waitress slid in front of him.

He can tell the mood between them has shifted as Alma slides back into her seat.

“Sorry about that,” she says.

Jax shakes his head. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. just...um Vitaly.”

Jax nods his head. He eyes Alma, who is becoming distracted by her food. He wants to ask questions. He wants to press for more information. He just knows better than to question her now in public. He’ll act like everything is fine.

He slides over the extra ranch he requested from the waitress. “I got more ranch for your fries.”

“Thank you.”

. . .

Jax has just locked the front door to the house when he is hit with longing as he watches Alma hang up her purse and take off his shoes.

The once happy mood diminished after she came back from her phone call.

“You want a drink before bed?”

Alma turns to him with a raised eyebrow. She folds her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask me? I didn’t think you were the type to need liquid courage.”

Jax licks his lips and he leans against the wall. “The Russian didn’t want to come down?”

“No.”

Jax nods his head. “Busy with work...or?”

“Would you even want him here, Jax?” Alma replies.

“Doesn’t matter what I feel. If he has a good relationship with Nathan, I don’t want to be the cause of a rift.”

Alma shakes her head. “Everything is fine, Jax.”

“I never said they weren’t.” Jax replies.

Alma’s eyes widen slightly, but he watches as a blank mask slips into place. “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

Jax doesn’t stop her. He watches as she walks down the hallway to the room that used to belong to their daughter. He moves away from the wall as he goes to the bar and gets himself a glass to pour him some whiskey.

He knows that if something is wrong in her marriage. He would be on the fine line considering Vitaly’s connection to the Russians. They rarely do business with them,but he is not looking to start trouble either. Then again, he doesn’t really care about being courteous if Alma is involved. Yet, maybe he is overreacting. Marriage isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. He knows that first hand.

He just doesn’t like that fact if Alma is in trouble, she feels she can't come to him for help.

. . .

Jax gave his son and Alma privacy while they said goodbye. He was rewarded with a hug for his goodbye and a few tips in things Nathan or the house would need. He had stepped aside and went into the house when he saw Nathan struggling to keep his composure.

It broke his heart to see his son like this. Yet, now, his son has been incredibly quiet since Alma left. Gone were the red eyes with tears, his son was clutching his phone tightly, biting his lip, and his leg was jumping up and down. Jax couldn’t ignore it.

“Your mom make it home, okay?” Jax asks despite already receiving a text from Alma she was home.

Nathan nods his head.

“So what’s going on? You’re about to chew through your bottom lip.” Jax points out.

“It’s nothing,” Nathan says dismissively as he runs his hands through his hair.

The good thing about his world crashing around him when he and Alma got divorced, Jax became more self aware. He had too. Also in having kids, he can see how his behavior is inherited or learned.

So he knows his son is lying to him. He knows that Nathan is keeping something close to his chest. Jax would force it out of his son, but he is trusting his son to come to him when he is ready. Jax knows that Nathan needs to come to terms with whatever is plaguing him on his own before reaching him. Jax has to wait for Nathan to trust him to handle the knowledge that Nathan has.

“If something was wrong with your mom, you can tell me. You know that right?”

Nathan turns his head and a sad smile takes over his features. “I know, Dad.”

. . . Alma is tired. Her body aches and she is running out of concealer. Vitaly isn’t being careful anymore. Thankfully, since she planned to go to Charming she didn’t book any appointments for the last two weeks of November. She had been able to focus on books and new designs. Yet, now with a possible concussion, having to pop her shoulder back in place, and a bruise that can even be seen on the inside of her lip, she can’t go to Charming. Nathan and of course Jax would notice everything. She is supposed to be leaving tomorrow. She feels bad for doing this last minute as Nathan had been going on and on about how the house was decorated.

They were going to be having two Thanksgiving as Nathan just wanted her and Jax to have dinner for themselves. The other Thanksgiving she had somehow got an invitation to Gemma’s. She has noticed that Gemma has been nicer to her since her trip to Charming. It almost feels like things were returning to how things before the divorce. Alma knows though Gemma is only being nice to appease the boys.

Alma leans back into her chair. She doesn’t want to break her son’s heart, but she knows she has too. These next two weeks are going to be torture. She knows she will have a lot to make up for when Christmas comes around.

With shaky hands, she calls her son. His answer is immediate.

“Hey, Ma,” he greets. She can tell he is smiling.

“Hey, baby,” she replies. Her voice is a bit hoarse. She hopes he can’t tell.

“Everything okay? You sound a bit sick?” She can hear some movement in the background.

“You at home?”

“Yeah, I’m laughing at Dad trying to clean the pool.”

“You’re not helping?”

“No, I know he is trying to trick me so he can push me in.”

“Sounds like your Dad.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t answer the questions, Mom.”

Alma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “You’re going to be mad at me, baby.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I’m not going to be able to come up for Thanksgiving.”

He doesn’t respond right away. All she can hear is his breathing. “Baby -”

“Why?”

“I’m not feeling good. I wouldn’t be any fun, but I’ll be there for Chri -”

Nathan interrupts her. “What did he do?”

“Nathan -”

“What did he do, Mom?”

“Nathan, I just can’t come okay. I’m sorry.” Alma can’t hold back the tears now. Her voice cracks. “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m a terrible -”

“Mom, don’t cry okay,” Nathan rushes out. “Please, don’t cry.” He begs. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not upset. It’ll be okay, Mom.”

“I’m so sorry, Nathan.”

“He should be, Mom.”

. . .

Nathan is scared. He is worried. He thinks he feels guilty. His dad had asked him if everything was okay with his mother and he lied. Now, his mom wasn’t able to come to Thanksgiving and she wasn’t answering her phone. She always answered. If she couldn’t answer, she would immediately send him a text she would call him back.

Something was wrong. He should’ve told his dad the truth. He immediately made some fib that something happened to her store. His dad and grandmother bought it. His mom even had the foresight to call his dad to reassure him everything was okay.

Yet, now, it’s been two days since Thanksgiving and he has not received a text or heard his mother’s voice. He is fucking scared. He knows better than to message Vitaly. That could only endanger his mother more. Nathan wipes a hand down his face and he is surprised to find tears. He didn’t even realize he had started crying.

He can’t keep quiet. The silence is only bringing on violence to his mother. He storms down the hallway to the garage where his father is at. A new hobby of his is restoring bikes that he will either sell or keep for a collection. His dad looks over at him briefly before he does a double take. No doubt noticing the tears.

His dad throws his tool down and begins wiping his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Mom. I’m so sorry, Dad,” Nathan cries out as his dad steps in front of him.

Jax grips his shoulders. “Is she hurt? What happened?”

“I should’ve told you from the start, Dad. I’m so sorry.” Nathan wails.

“Hey, calm down. Just tell me now. What’s going on?”

Nathan looks into his father’s eyes. He wipes at his tears. “Vitaly...he hurts Mom.” Nathan reveals. Finally letting the truth out. “I...I can’t get a hold of her. I think he hurt her bad this time. I’m sorry, Dad. I should’ve told you.”

Jax wraps his arms around him tightly. He embraces him in a tight hug. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You told me now. I’ll handle it, okay.”

[florenceandthemachine]

okay but jackson falling for single dad stiles (◕‿◕✿)

SO (and I feel like I’m going to be saying this a lot) HERES THE THING.

@jacksonstilinskis, as you can assume, the first time they meet is a fucking disaster.

It’s a disaster because Stiles moved to New York for his bachelor degree, partially in an attempt to chase the highest scholarship he was awarded and partially in an attempt to get the fuck out of Beacon Hills, the place that killed his mother, his father, and his best friend — and the place that left him with a squirming three month old less than a year after he graduates high school, a gift from the recently departed. 

He gets a major in Criminology and a minors in Mythological Studies, rocks the single father gig, and manages to teach Claudia (Scotts idea, Stiles had cried when he found out) what is okay to bite and what is not okay to bite, but getting into grad school is a whole other animal. 

It’s a disaster because Stiles decides to forgo taking out a mortgage in student loans and tries to save up for his masters program by joining up with the NYPD. They have amazing benefits, amazing child support, and a legal team that could kick anyones ass.

It’s a disaster because six years later, when Stiles and Jackson first meet, Stiles is in uniform (a uniform he looks damn good in, Jackson begrudgingly acknowledges) and Jackson’s Porsche just hit about 87 miles per hour in a 55.

The best part is (well, the best part if you ask Stiles — the worst part if you ask Jackson) is that Jackson has been pulled over hundreds of times before, and he always — always — gets out of it with a smile and a laugh and an apology, and Stiles could not give less of a fuck. Jackson breaks out all the tricks. The smile, the pout, the puppy eyes. He actually thinks it works for a second — Stiles is smiling back at him, and Jackson isn’t above tilting his head to get a better look at the way the uniform hugs him, but then Stiles is asking for his registration and insurance and Jackson’s smile falls into a scowl.

Finally, he brings out the big guns — he casually gestures to his scrubs, mentions he’s on his way to a surgery, because being top of his class at Harvard Medical had to count for something — and he really was in a rush, officer, he had to get to the patient right away. 

Stiles has the audacity to roll his eyes and laugh as he hands Jackson his ticket, and Jackson has to pretend that the sound didn’t make a shiver dance over his skin. “Well, I certainly hope you take more time and care with your patient then you do on your commute. Have a better day.”

The cruiser follows him all the way to the hospital, and Jackson feels a moment of petty anger before he realizes that the 23rd Precinct is basically right across Park Avenue from Mount Sinai Hospital. If he looks out the window of his office, he can see a steady stream of police cars going in and out of the underground garage. 

Huh. 

—

Jackson allowed himself a full week to whine to everyone who would listen about his ticket after he plea bargained it down, but then even he got tired of sulking —

(“I am not sulking, Laura.”

“It was over a month ago. You are absolutely sulking, you baby.”)

— sulking over who he had only thought of as Officer Asshole. Who the fuck gives a speeding ticket to a doctor, a doctor that was on his way to surgery?

Not that Jackson had actually been on his way to surgery. He was never in a rush to surgery, because he was never late to surgery, because he barely left the hospital on his days off, let alone a day he had a surgery scheduled. 

Either way, that was months ago, and even Jackson couldn’t hold a grudge that long. He was in rotation today — Mount Sinai may have been one of the best hospitals in the nation, but it was first and foremost a children's hospital, and being in rotation — and seeing the people that they were helping, the kids they were helping, really helped bring that home to everyone. 

He grabbed the next clipboard off of a stack and pushed open the door to the waiting room, taking count of all the parents and kids waiting for everything from a bruised knee (helecoptor parents) to any number of fakers (midterm season was rough on everyone).

“Claudia and Stiles... Stilinski?”

What the hell was a Stiles?

Jackson only had half a moment to think about it before a dark head popped up, a child that couldn’t have been more than six in his arms, and Jackson almost felt resentful when he realized that he was staring at Officer Asshole again. And Officer Asshole had a kid, who looked absolutely miserable, and Officer Asshole looked miserable in proxy to his kid, and Jackson really needed to start thinking of him as a “Stiles” before he accidentally called him officer Asshole out loud. 

Jackson guided them back to an exam room full of stuffed toys and bright colors on the wall, letting Stiles take his time setting Claudia down on the bench before sitting right beside her. He introduced himself and smiled down to Claudia — who had a low fever and was squirming uncomfortably, rubbing her little hands against her flushed cheeks, and Jackson would never think that was not cute. Even a sick kid was a cute kid, and though this kid was sick...

“...it’s nothing to be worried about. Kids get sick all the time, and it sucks, but it happens.” Jackson said, using his full soothing doctor voice on Stiles, who looked at the same time utterly relieved and totally embarrassed. 

He confirmed as much as he stood up, taking a prescription from Jackson for some children's medicine to help bring Claudia’s fever down, shaking his head slowly. “Sorry. It was probably overkill to bring her to a hospital, but I’m still pretty new to this parenting thing. I just... I don’t know, I have a tendency to assume the worst, after... well. I just do.”

Jackson almost laughs again, shaking his head. “Don’t ever apologize for advocating for your kid. It’s the best thing you can do, next to pulling over innocent doctors who definitely aren't speeding.” He reaches out to shake Stiles hand, dazzling smile on his face, and Stiles’ blooms into recognition. 

“You’re the doctor! The doctor I pulled over. Sorry, I forget names and faces, but I could never forget that smile.” Stiles said, a grin on his own face, shaking Jackson’s hand for a few seconds before his eyes widened in horror, yanking his hand back. “Oh god. That sounded so creepy, I’m so sorry, she’s kept me up for three days straight. I didn’t mean it in a weird way. I just—uh, I have to go. Thank you again! Please don’t think I'm some freak in a uniform!” he says, almost tripping over a nurse as he backs out of the room. 

Jackson is grinning even wider, a real smile splitting his face, and he can’t help but call after him. “The coffee cart on 102nd is great for long nights. Favorite for all on call doctors and most of the boys in blue.”

Stiles smiles weakly and gives a thumbs up, disappearing down the stairway. 

Officer Asshole — Stilinski, he reminded himself — wasn’t just hot, he was actually kind of cute. He was a cute dad. 

Jackson was kind of fucked.

—

Jackson is sitting on a bench on 102nd Avenue, looking up at the dark night sky, when a danish lands in his lap. Jackson just looks at it for a minute — he’s just finishing up a thirty hour shift, and he’s only vaguely sure what’s real anymore — before he looks up, staring dumbly at the cup of coffee extended to him. 

“It’s uh, a peace offering. And an apology? I mean, I’m not sorry for writing you a ticket. You were speeding. But I am sorry for calling you Doctor Dickbag for like a week afterward. But that medicine you gave me had Claudia back to her giggly self in no time, so I think you’re even. With yourself.”

It’s Stilinski, and judging by his pressed uniform, styled hair, and bright (if not nervous) smile, he’s just getting on shift while Jackson is mentally checking out of his own. 

As soon as he puts two and two together, Jackson gratefully takes the cup and takes a too long swig of what tastes like frothy sugar milk, almost gagging as he looks at Stiles like he had been poisoned. “What the hell is this, a hot milkshake? Oh god, I should have known you were the type who drinks hot sugar, not coffee.”

Stiles has the audacity to laugh as he sits beside Jackson, and the two of them fall into easy, if shallow, conversation. They talk about work, and themselves, and soon Stiles is checking his watch with an apology, because his shift starts at 4 and he has to get into the precinct. 

Jackson watches as he stands up and puts on his fancy police hat, and later, he’ll blame it on sleep deprivation, but he calls out after Stiles’ retreating form. 

“So, coffee and a danish, maybe breakfast next time? I’ll buy.”

Stiles stops and turns, looking Jackson over, and he grins as he nods his head, even if his cheeks are pink. “It’s a date.” He winks and turns back around, and Jackson actually feels goosebumps on the back of his neck.

Oh, Jackson was fucked. He flops back on the bench and smiles to himself, before frowning, whirling around to yell at Stiles’ retreating backside. 

“Wait, what the fuck do you mean you were calling me Doctor Dickbag?!”

—

They manage to have several coffee / breakfast / here’s a meal dates, and Jackson is almost proud of their timing—Stiles kisses Jackson on date number two, a quick peck that leaves Jackson’s world on it’s edge as he grins at Stiles blushing backside as he speaks rapid fire into his radio, now buzzing with life. It’s cute on their first date, but gets old by their fourth date, they manage to kiss for almost twenty seconds in the ambulance bay at Mount Sinai before Jackson’s pager goes off. He groans and pulls away, glaring at the device as though it personally offended him, and Stiles laughs as he brings Jackson’s hands up to kiss Jackson’s knuckles. 

“Go, go save lives. But, uh, if you were free on Thursday, I was thinking... maybe we could have our next date at my place? I’ve already got Mrs. Bobrowski on speed dial to babysit.” Stiles says, his tone confident even if he’s chewing his lip nervously. It’s a trick question — Stiles is off, and Stiles knows that Jackson is off, and Stiles already secured a babysitter, and Jackson can feel Stiles eyes dipping back from his lips to the low V of his scrub top, and Jackson wastes no time before agreeing wholeheartedly. 

“It’s a date.” he murmurs against Stiles lips, squeezing his ass through the uniform, and Stiles squeaks in appreciation as he swats Jackson toward the hospital doors. 

Thursday rolls around and Jackson puts on a tight pair of jeans, a button down shirt with far too many buttons undone to be decent, and adds just a drop of cologne to his pulse point. He looks good. He feels good. He buys flowers, for fucks sake, which means that of course when he knocks on Stiles door, Stiles is wearing a ratty tee shirt and sweats and has a pained look on his face. 

“Jackson, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bobrowski cancelled on me and I couldn’t get another sitter and I wanted to call you and tell you but I left my phone at the station and—”

Stiles looks miserable, and that’s all Jackson needs to know he’s telling the truth, that he truly is sorry, and that he’s going to tell Jackson “another time”, like having a kid involved would ruin a dinner date. Jackson takes a split second before shutting Stiles up with a kiss, brushing past him with a grand flourish as he says Claudia in the living room, bending down to give her first choice on Stiles flowers.

Stiles just stands in the doorway, stunned, looking as Jackson goes to the kitchen, Claudia skipping along happily behind him, excitedly waving her new purple flower in the air. 

“Jackson, you don’t have to—”

“Stilinski, you have three seconds to shut up and tell me where to find a vase, and then tell me how I can help you with dinner.” Jackson says expectantly, and Stiles feels something warm curl around his chest.

—

They have dinosaur nuggets and carrots and peas for dinner, and Jackson loves it. 

They watch a Disney movie and Jackson holds Stiles hand on the couch, and he loves it.

Stiles puts Claudia to bed and then turns to Jackson with such a hungry look in his eye, he can hardly blink before Stiles has him pulled into his bedroom, and fuck, Jackson loves it. 

They barely get each other naked before they tumble into bed, and Stiles is rubbing against him so deliciously, and Jackson mouthes at his neck and bites at his pulse, and he would almost be ashamed of how quickly he comes, his body warm against Stiles, thrusting against his hips, but Stiles is right behind him, and they’re warm and sticky and have a mess on their abdomens. 

Jackson just looks at Stiles in surprise, and they both stare a moment before they’re both laughing, desperately trying to stifle the sound so they don’t wake Claudia. Jackson wipes them clean with something on the floor (”that's my shirt, you ass!” Stiles basically squawks) and then they both lay there in bed, listening to the sounds of the city from the window, and Stiles starts to talk. 

He tells them about his best friend Scott and his wife Allison that married right out of high school, and Allison who got pregnant before her first day at UCLA. He tells them about how after Claudia was born, they made Stiles the godparent, and then left Claudia in his care while they went on a much-delayed honeymoon to the coast, and then he tells them about how a little gas leak in the hotel robbed him of his two best friends and robbed Claudia of her parents. 

He goes through it quickly — “what happened then sucks, but there’s no sense in wishing it was different” — but it brings him to his next point, lying with his head on Jackson’s chest, fingers tracing the lines across his stomach. 

“Usually, guys run like hell when I say daughter. I’m a 26 year old cop with a 6 year old kid, and something about that is terrifying. Not that I think you’re going to be terrified, but—”

“Stiles, if this is the part of the show where you tell me that you and Claudia are a package deal, can it. I know. I’m not mad about it. Hell, I’ve already fooled you into thinking I’m more than just a dickwad, I’m not backing out now, I’ve put too much work into this.” Jackson snarks, and Stiles looks at him for a minute like he was crazy before he reads into Jackson’s facial expression, and his smile softens again. 

“You’re still a dickwad. Doctor Dickwad.” Stiles says, playfully squeezing Jackson’s side. “But I guess I can keep you around as long as Claudia finds you useful.” he says with a dreamy sign, nosing along Jackson’s jawline once more.

Jackson just grins and turns to kiss him, taking a moment to realize—

he was so, so fucked.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Birthmother: Dad Fluff

CW: Referenced past noncon - including noncon that occurred underage, frankly discussed past abusive relationship involving minors, referenced past captivity, referenced victim blaming. Frank discussion of difficult circumstances and mindsets surrounding adoption from adoptive parent and birth parent points of view.

Danny speaks with Mina’s birthmother just after her birth. This one’s a heartbreaker, guys - for Danny and for Marie West, Mina’s birthmother. Basically I’ve been tearing up in Starbucks for two hours now and will now inflict it on all of you.

“Can… Can I ask why?” Danny folds himself into the small chair in the hospital room, the plastic pastel padding doing nothing to make it even remotely comfortable to sit in, the pale wood arms and frame nearly the same color as his skin.

He hasn’t slept since they got the call that she was finally in labor, and he can feel an exhaustion headache beginning to throb just behind his eyes - still, he’s gone longer than this without sleeping, and the teenage girl in the hospital bed beside him hasn’t slept, either.

Marie West, fifteen years old and the birthmother of Danny’s daughter, looks down at her hands. She has beautiful fingernails, carefully manicured and painted a perfect even pinkish-cream color that pops against her skin.

“Why what?” She asks, in a low voice.

They’re alone in the room, except for the tiny newborn currently sleeping in the clear plastic rolling ‘crib’ next to Marie’s bed. She’s heavily swaddled in the white blanket with pink and blue stripes that, Danny thinks, it seems like every newborn in America gets as the very first thing they own.

The baby girl is approximately eight and a half hours old, and she has lighter brown skin than her mother, a tiny little mouth that moves in her sleep, and a thick fuzz of black hair that covers her head. She will be Danny’s daughter, if Marie doesn’t change her mind before the grace period is up, and Danny’s heart beats in his throat every time he thinks of that possibility… and he’s not sure whether he wants her to keep to her plan, or if some deep part of him wants to see her decide to keep the little girl, make the best of it, create a life that her child can be a part of.

Some part of him has always been wondering what it would have been like to have his birthmother decide to create a life with him.

“Why us? I mean, um, you don’t… really have to tell me. I just asked Nate and your mom to get coffee and give us a sec because, um, I wondered if… if you wouldn’t… if you couldn’t use a few minutes. I can go, too, if that’s better.”

Danny moves to stand, and stops when he catches Marie shifting around in the bed. She’s wearing a pink hospital gown with little patterned birds on it. It has a slit on each side for feeding the baby, although Marie has told Danny she isn’t going to. I’m sorry, I just can’t, she said to the nurse, who looked at her with perfect compassion and brought in tiny little bottles of premade formula, showing Danny how to give them to the little girl they have yet to name.

He doesn’t want to - not until he knows for sure that Marie won’t decide to take her home, give her a new name, and Danny and Nate will have to start again.

“No, you’re okay, don’t go. I just.” Marie shrugs, inspecting her hands for a few moments longer. Her hair falls in thick black waves around her face. “I, I guess… I just, um, liked you.”

Danny nods, swallowing against a knot in his throat, against the nervousness that makes his fingers clumsy, his hands want to shake. It’s funny, to have lived through what he has but asking a teenager why she wanted to give him a baby is what really scares him, now. “Thanks,” He says after the pause draws just a little too long, belatedly trying to cover it. “I, um, like to think I’m… likable.”

“Yeah.” There’s another pause. In it, the newborn baby girl makes a soft, high-pitched grunting sound, and both of them look to her with automatic instinct. She quiets and settles again on her own. 

Marie sighs, and Danny wonders what she thinks, when the baby makes noise. Does a part of her want to take care of things, to hold the baby as tightly as she can and never let go? Does she just want someone to take the baby away? Is she fighting both feelings, all at once?

“Why… why did you like me?” Danny scoots the chair a little closer, wincing at the awful scraping sound it makes along the nondescript tile floor, but Marie doesn’t seem to notice. She keeps staring down at her hands.

“Because… because. Um. Because I, I just, because you said you were adopted, too, in your profile? File folder. Whatever. What the, the lady gave us to look at, my mom and me… it, like, said you were adopted when you were five.”

“Yep. I was in foster care before that.” Danny shrugs, folding his hands together, elbows on his thighs as he bends over, trying to read her face. He’s good at reading the mood of a room - he had to be, for years being able to read Abraham’s mood had been his only shot at lessening the pain he might be in. “You liked the idea of me being adopted?”

“I liked that you… you can tell her. You understand being adopted. You’re just the only one… you were the only person we looked at who I just thought could, um, like, tell her that it’s… it’s not her fault she was born.” Marie’s voice dropped into a whisper. Danny watched the tears welling up in her eyes, and suddenly he understood, all at once, the other reason he and Nate had been chosen. “It’s not her fault that she was, was fucking born... it’s mine.”

Danny lets the silence draw out between them, and then he reaches out with one rough, scarred hand to take hers. She grips onto him painfully tightly, but he doesn’t flinch - he can take this kind of pain, this is nothing, not when you’ve had your back carved up for hours kneeling in the dirt - and he keeps his eyes carefully on hers.

He doesn’t touch other people very often, but he understands, now, that Marie West doesn’t want to touch other people anymore, either, and for a very similar reason.

“You were r-raped,” He says, softly. It took him so long to say it out loud - for months after it was all over he still referred to what Abraham did as sex, as if it were normal, because Abraham had told him again and again - it was one of his rules - you can’t rape the puppy. He shudders against the memory, pushing it down, because… because this moment, in this hospital room, isn’t about him. “That’s why you liked us. Because.. Because I was, too. You were, um… you were raped. Like me.”

“N-not, like, like you,” Marie says, her voice bubbling and breaking with the tears that she is fighting like hell to hold back. He wants to tell her to cry, to sob her heart out, that he can sit here with her in silence and be someone who understands the need… but he knows just as much that she needs to not cry, that she’s been crying for months without stopping, that she just wants to be able to stop. “He w-wasn’t a stranger, he was, was my… my boyfriend.”

Danny nods, and he moves his other hand to hold onto hers, too, and they sit there in silence while she sniffs back the tears that try to escape, setting her jaw with grim determination as she fights them back inside of herself.

“We dated for, like, six months,” She says softly, almost hoarsely. “Then, one night… and I don’t know, I just, I was scared because he got so mad and I went along with it. And then we, we just kept… I never really, you know, he would get so mad I didn’t want to say no, and-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Danny whispers, with real ferocity. Her eyes go to his, and he looks right in her warm brown eyes, knowing that his own have turned to something like a cold, cold ocean blue. “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter, it took me a long t-time to, um, to understand it, but it doesn’t matter if you can say no. Not saying no isn’t the same as saying yes, Marie, okay?”

She nods, sort of rapidly, her shoulders sagging. She pulls her hands back and Danny lets go quickly, his own skin crawling with touching other people, but he ignores the feeling for now. “Did you learn th-that in therapy?” She asks with a wry smile, watery and unconvincing, but there. “I have to go to therapy now, my mom takes me.”

“I did learn that in therapy. I have… I have a good therapist. She’s about to retire, I just…” He shrugs a little. “I learned a lot from her. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t be able to do this, to have a baby, if I hadn’t gone to her.”

“I don’t want this baby,” Marie whispers, with the air of someone confessing a sin. “I don’t want her. I know she’s, it’s not her fault, and my mom thinks she’s cute, but I don’t… I don’t want his baby. You’re supposed to want babies, when you’re pregnant, but it just felt like this thing kept growing - like I had a monster inside of me - and I didn’t want it because it came from him, and I don’t… I wanted to find someone who would want, um, want her. Because it’s not her fault.” Marie rested one hand over her stomach, lightly rounded but already slowly growing less and less, day by day. “It was… it was mine.”

“It wasn’t,” Danny says, gently but firmly. “It’s not your fault. It’s not hers, sure, but it’s not, um, it’s not yours either. It’s not our fault, what happened to us. Okay?”

She looks over at him - just for a second, before her eyes skip away again. “That’s why I picked you,” She says, her voice evening out again, the tears drying as quickly as they came. Pushed deep within herself, to wait until the next breakdown, the next moment when it was all too much, too soon. “Because you, um, you know. My mom recognized you from when you were in the news, and I looked you up online and realized… she wanted me to pick someone else, kind of? But I, I just… I just thought… th-there’s nobody better for that, that baby than someone who can tell her… someone who can tell her that it’s not her fault, and that someone loves her.” Her lips pressed together, guilty and miserable. “I can’t.”

“I get that. My birthmom couldn’t, either. Thanks for telling me.” He smiles at her, encouragingly, and she manages another smile in his direction before she lays back against the pillows, picking up the remote to turn on the TV. They sit there in silence for a while.

Just when Danny has started to consider going to find Nate and Marie’s mother, she speaks again. “You have to want her, though. It’s not her fault that she was born, and you have to want her because I can’t.”

“I do,” Danny says softly. “I want her so badly, Marie. I have, I have a name picked out and everything. We… we picked our names months ago actually, before anyone chose us. We sat around talking about it for, um, for weeks and weeks… it was funny to, to talk about it and there not actually be a baby… and then we decorated the nursery but, you know, we had to talk about what if you decided to keep her and we just… had this nursery sitting around our house-”

“I won’t change my mind.” Marie shook her head. “Everyone keeps asking. I won’t. I want you to have her. I want you to, to tell her that someone loves her.”

“I will,” Danny says gently. He moves from the chair to sit on the side of the bed, just slightly resting on it with his legs off to the side and feet on the floor. Marie doesn’t look at him right away, but the set of her jaw starts to waver again. “I will, Marie, I promise. I’ll tell her every fucking day how loved and wanted she is. I… I wasn’t… I wasn’t wanted, by my parents. I wasn’t adopted because they wanted me. And I’m not ever going to do that to a kid, okay?”

“Okay.” Marie says it softly, but the strain is in her voice again. “Okay, okay. Okay. Good.”

“If you want to meet her,” Danny says gently, “We would be happy to fly down here again-”

“I won’t.”

“If you ever do. I’m going to leave all our contact info with your mom, and if you want to see her… please, Marie. This is your baby, too-”

She shakes her head rapidly, her hair flying out around her, and Danny realizes her hands are gripped onto each other so tightly she’s pressed ash-pale divots into her brown skin. “She’s not. She’s, she’s his baby.”

“Okay. I won’t push. Just know that the option is there, if you change your mind.”

She nods again, once more, curt, still not looking at him. Danny wonders, to himself, if his own mother was given a conversation like this before the state took him away. If his birthmother, barely a teenager and recovering from surgery, had been told she could see her son if she wanted and said, no, I won’t, he’s not mine.

“I’m sorry,” Danny says gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you’ve spent… this whole time getting, um, getting pressured about it. I’ll go now.”

Before he can get up, she reaches out to grab him - it’s an all-at-once movement he nearly flinches back from, and a low deep voice in his mind says never flinch or pull away from Abraham in an echo he’s nearly broken but can’t quite shake. She hisses - it has to ache, moving like that so soon after having a baby, he knows it has to hurt to do what she’s done, and to do it knowing she won’t even bring the baby home afterwards.

“Please tell her I’m sorry,” Marie says, and her voice is choked as she pulls Danny down into a hug. He doesn’t pull back, his skin crawls but he holds onto her tightly, sliding his long arms around behind her thin hospital gown, pulling her as close to him as he can. Her head falls against his shoulder and she starts to sob, muffled sounds into his sweater - even in Texas, Danny is always cold and thinks maybe he’ll never not be cold again.

He holds her while she cries, and he doesn’t say anything, but he can feel in her that she doesn’t want him to speak. She just wants there to be someone to cry with, someone who has been there, someone who knows.

“J-Just tell her I’m, I’m so sorry, I c-couldn’t, pl-please tell her I couldn’t-”

“I will,” Danny says gently, rocking back and forth a little. What Nate does for him when he cries, when he is overwhelmed by the lost time and the horror that happened, the things he saw and felt and experienced weighing him down. The way Nate rocks with him when his back hurts so badly he can’t move, when his ribs ache with every breath. “I’ll tell her every day she is loved, and wanted, and that you were so fucking strong for her.”

“St-strong would be t-t-taking her home,” Marie says, in a voice like a guilty whimper.

Danny tightens his arms around her. “No,” He says softly, but firmly. “Strong is making the choice you have to make, to keep going, for the both of you. Strong is doing what you have to do to stay alive, to survive.” He is talking to Marie West, a fifteen-year-old girl in Texas who is giving him a baby… but he’s talking to a thirteen-year-old girl thirty years ago, too, a little girl who maybe turned her face away from the tiny premature redheaded newborn they showed her and said I can’t, I can’t, I don’t want to.

He is talking, as well, to a twenty-two year old man crying as he begs for mercy that isn’t coming, that Abraham Denner never had it in him to give.

“You’re strong,” He says out loud, to her and to his birthmother and to himself. To everyone like them, to everyone who had to make the hard choices they’ve made to keep moving when it would have been easier, maybe, to give up. “You have to survive for yourself, too. I’m so, so grateful you’re doing this, but I’m so sorry this happened to you. When I tell her about you, I’m going to tell her that you had to be so fucking strong when you shouldn’t have had to be strong, I’m going to tell her that you did what you had to do to give her the family you wanted for her, I’m going to tell her that she is the most loved and wanted little girl in the world. I know you don’t want to keep her, and you think that means you don’t love her-”

“I don’t, I don’t want her, I don’t want her and I’m supposed to want my baby,” Marie half-wails, fingers twisted into the fabric of his sweater, holding tightly. “But I don’t, I don’t, and I’m supposed to and I don’t…”

He hears shuffling steps outside, low voices, one of them Nate’s. He glances up to see Marie’s mother in the doorway, a hand over her mouth, Nate’s hand over her arm to keep her from moving inside.

“Sssshhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You don’t have to, okay? Wanting a baby isn’t a switch that turns on, not like this.” He thinks he should kiss the top of her head, some kind of parental something, but he can’t. His skin half-burns with what it feels like to be touched without it being his idea, but he forces back the sick flip of his stomach, the sense that his control over himself is being undone, and he focuses instead on the simple fact that Marie West is hurting, and he can help her. “It’s okay. We’re going to take her home, and Nate wants to be Dad, we already decided - and I’ll be Daddy. And if you ever, ever want to see her, Marie, you’re still Mommy. Okay? And if you don’t want to be ever, that’s okay, too, it’s your choice. You decide who you are, not that guy who hurt you, not your mom or your dad, not us. You decide. You get to decide who you are, after all of this, after you survive.”

Marie nods against him, sniffling, and her sobs start to fade, to come back under control. “Oh my god,” She mutters without raising her head. “Oh my god, the fucking hormones or something, I’m so sorry, I’m crying with a fucking stranger, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“No problem.” He pats at her back, then rubs in a soothing circle. “If you want to call and talk to me about… about the thing with that guy, I’d be happy to. Whatever you need, Marie. We’re here, and we, um, we know… we know a little bit about it. Not, not the way it happened to you, but-”

“Do you ever stop feeling like it’s your fault it happened?” Marie asks, in a whisper.

Danny hopes her mother can’t hear it.

He leans down to whisper back, curled around her. “It took a while. But sometimes… sometimes I go whole weeks where I remember, the whole time, that it wasn’t. And you’ll get that, too. Okay? You’ll get there. It takes a while, and it takes therapy and I take some pills, too, but… but you’ll get there. One day you’ll wake up, and you’ll get halfway through the day and realize you haven’t thought about him at all.”

“Y-you… you promise?”

“I promise.” He holds her for another few seconds, glancing up at her mother with a slight smile. Nate raises his eyebrows in question, and Danny holds up one finger - just a second. “I promise, Marie. I absolutely swear it.”

She nods again, and slowly pulls back, wiping at her eyes almost frantically. He notices, for the first time, pretty gold stud earrings in her ears, and a small gold hoop up in the shell of her ear on one side. “Um. Can I… can I ask you something? I mean, that’s ridiculous when I just cried on you, b-but… can I… ask something?”

Danny steels himself - people are always asking can I ask you something? And the questions get worse and more invasive each time, wondering did he ever do anything that felt good and do you miss him and what was it like to have someone break your arm on purpose or his personal current absolute least-favorite, do you ever think about how if you hadn’t gone over to your friend’s house, none of it would have happened? Do you think maybe you could have done something different to make it end faster?

“Yeah,” He says softly, when he’s ready. “Go ahead.”

She licks at her lips - dry and cracked, a little chapped - and then asks, hesitantly, “What’s the name?”

“What?” He blinks, thrown totally off-guard.

“Y-you said you guys already talked about names… what, um, what name did you pick for her? For your baby.” She subtly emphasizes the your - more for herself than for him, Danny thinks. Her eyes slip over to the infant, still sleeping peacefully in her crib, making the occasional low contented grunt.

“Oh.” Danny feels relief like a wave, nearly knocking him off the hospital bed. “Oh. Yeah, sure, I’ll… sure. We want to call her Mina Nicole. After, um, after a book I like… a character in a book I like. And Nicole was Nate’s mom’s name.”

“Which name does she get? Yours or his?”

“His,” Danny says firmly. “I don’t care about my name. My brother can give it to his kids.”

“Oh, shit. Hit on a sore spot,” Marie says softly, and laughs - her laugh is low and soft, and absolutely beautiful. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay. Mina Nicole Vandrum.”

She repeats the name, in a soft wondering voice, then looks back at the baby. “She looks like a Mina Vandrum, I think. It’s, I like… I like the name you picked. Um. You’ll be a good dad, I think, Mr. Michaelson-”

“Danny. Just… just Danny, please.”

“Okay. Danny. Thanks for… for all that.” She waved her hand vaguely, and then settled back against the pillows. Just as she settled in, her mother sweeps into the room, making plenty of noise to seem like she’d only just walked up rather than been watching in the door.

“Marie! Brought you your coffee. I figure you don’t need decaf if you’re not going to be breastfeeding, anyway.”

“Mom, you never let me have coffee,” Marie says, surprised, as she takes the cup from her mother’s hands. “Thanks. What’s… why-”

“You’re doing a real grown-up thing, and you’ve had a real shit few grownup months,” Marie’s mother says gently, reaching out to tuck a bit of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “I’m not going to begrudge you a cup of damn coffee, babygirl.”

Marie’s eyes well up again, but she nods, swallowing back her tears. “Th-thanks, Mom.”

There is a moment where mother and daughter look at each other, and Danny sees the child in the teenager, desperate for the first voice she ever heard to still be there to stand between her and the monsters in the world - and in her mother, tired and maybe just as scared by all of this as Marie, the woman who, fifteen years earlier, had had her own baby to bring home.

A woman who, when she cradled the newborn Marie, could never have imagined having to be this kind of strong for her daughter, not like this, not so soon.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Danny says softly, and catches the look of gratitude Marie’s mom shoots him, as he pushes himself up and off the bed. “I’d like to talk to, um, to Nate out in the waiting room for a little while.”

“Do you want to take her?” Marie’s mother asks, nodding towards the infant in the little clear plastic rolling crib. “Out in the hall? I’d love to speak with my babygirl for a little bit.”

Danny nods quickly, trying not to look too eager as he moves to pick up the tiny little newborn - she hardly weighs a thing in his arms, as he slides one hand carefully under her head to keep it steady, so it won’t fall back. She doesn’t wake up, only smacks her lips a few times and settles right under his chin as he lays her against his chest.

She feels like she was always meant to be there, right against his heart.

“Grab a b-bottle,” Marie says softly, sipping her coffee. “She’ll want to eat.”

Being a mother doesn’t always mean raising the baby yourself, Danny wants to tell her, picking up one of the tiny little prepackaged bottles of newborn formula the nurses brought in. He wants to say that sometimes being the mother your baby needs is helping her build the family you want her to have, even if you’re not in the center of it. He wants to say, my mother gave me to the state and I found my family in the end, and Mina has her family and you’re still part of it, whatever part you want to play. You’ll survive this, and it’s going to be okay.

He’s not sure how to say it without tearing up himself. He hopes someone told his mother that, when she was so little, and scared, and had to be too strong too soon.

He carries Mina carefully to the door, stopping to kiss Nate before he moves into the hallway, listening to the noisy breathing of the newborn in his arms.

Marie’s mother steps up, gives Danny a slight smile, and closes the door to the room to give she and her daughter some privacy.

“Is she oh-okay?” Nate asks, softly. “M-Marie?” His voice is low, and deep, and Danny wants to wake up to this voice every day for the rest of his life.

“She will be,” Danny says softly. “She will. She likes the name, Nate. She likes the name Mina Nicole.”

As if she understood her name had been spoken, Mina shifts in his arms a little, and her wide dark eyes flutter slowly open and then close again.

“What did you t-t-talk about?” Nate and Danny amble down the hall, Nate reaching out occasionally to touch Mina’s soft soft hair, the back of her swaddling blanket. As if reminding himself that this - that all of this - was really happening, was real.

Danny shrugs a little, smiling down at his daughter.

“Just… that, that... it’s going to be okay.”

[crispychrissy]

Casu Consulto

Summary: Dean is sick and tired of Sam’s heart eyes for the Y/N and decides to do something about it. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3268 Warnings: Language, minor angst, humor, smut, Sam’s giant dick A/N:  This takes care of the “Bed Sharing” square for @spnkinkbingo. The title in Latin means “accidently on purpose” in case anyone was wondering. I feel it gits well with the theme of the story. :) I apologize for nothing when it comes to the comedy I’ve sprinkled through. It was looked over by @saxxxology, enjoy!

“So, the ghoul was spotted outside the old folks home?” Y/N asked as she stepped out of the car, stretching her arms above her head, sore from the six hour drive.

Dean watched his brother stare at the strip of skin showing above her waist band as she stretched and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. We’ll go first thing tomorrow.”

Dragging her duffel bag from the back seat, Y/N slung it over her shoulder and shut the car door “Right. I’m beat. We getting two rooms?”

Sam shrugged and smiled. “We could, if that’s–”

“Nope,” Dean interrupted, walking down the small sidewalk toward the motel’s office. “Not enough cash.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Watching Dean disappear into the office, she thought back to the last hunt, remembering she shared with Dean, and that meant she was sharing with the younger Winchester this time. “Looks like it’ll be you and me, Sam. Try not to starfish on me. Suffocation by Winchester is not how I want to go out.”

Sam dipped his head, cheeks heating up. “Come on, I can’t be that bad. Dean’s always been a crazy sleeper.”

“Dean’s a cuddler,” she chuckled. “Nine times out of ten, I wake up with his arms wrapped around my waist and his nose buried in my hair.”

Something akin to jealousy flared up in Sam’s chest, and he had to take several deep breaths to calm himself down. He opened his mouth to give some sort of witty comeback about it being okay if he cuddled her, but Dean returned with the motel key and killed the moment.

Dean unlocked the door and shuffled inside, dropping the weapons bag on the small table in the corner of the room and his duffel bag on the bed closest to the door. Y/N and Sam walked inside and placed their bags on the other queen bed.

Dean looked over and saw his brother staring at Y/N again, the same doofy puppy dog look as before, and he growled. “Sam? A word?”

Sam’s eyes jumped from Y/N to his brother, and immediately knew what Dean’s angry expression meant. Sheepishly, he nodded and followed Dean out of the motel room, telling Y/N he’d be right back.

Once outside with the door shut, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, leaning up against the hood of the Impala. “Sam. I know you like her. Hell, anyone with eyes knows you like her. But you gotta stop being a chickenshit.”

Sam made a soft noise of protest in the back of his throat. “Dean–”

“Nuh-uh, let me finish. I have been waiting for everything to fall into place, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to mess it up. We’ll both pretend this was just a happy little accident that all the stars aligned perfectly.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m gonna head to the bar we passed on the way into town. You’re going to go in there and ‘share a bed’,” Dean did air quotes, “with Y/N like you’re in one of those trashy romance novels you think I don’t know you read all the time.” Dean grabbed Sam’s arms and shook him slightly. “Sam. Get the girl.”

Sam took a deep breath and wiggled out of Dean’s hold. “It’s not that simple, Dean.”

“Bullshit,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam. “You’ve been set up with the goldest of golden opportunities, and I really can’t deal with you and your stupid heart eyes any more. So either you go back in there and pretend I didn’t set this up and finally tell her how you feel so you can make sweet sweet love to her, or I’ll do it for you, awkwardly… like when dad gave you the talk after he caught you with that Kelsey girl in Medford.”

Sam’s eyes widened at the horrible memory and he shook his head, sending his chestnut locks flying around his head. “No, I… uhhh, no, I-I got it.”

Dean nodded and grinned, slapping his brother on the arm with a wink. “Casu consulto, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled and ran his hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Text me when you two are ready for me to come back. That is, if I don’t find someone to spend the night with at this bar.” Dean’s lips stretched into another wolfish grin. “Not many ladies can resist the Winchester charm, can they, Sammy?”

“Dude,” Sam rolls his eyes, “just go. I’m… I think I got it from here.”

Dean walked past Sam, patting him on the shoulder, and got into the driver’s seat of the Impala before starting her up and pulling out of the parking lot. Sam took a few seconds to compose himself before slowly pushing open the door to the motel room, shutting and locking it behind him.

“Everything okay?” Y/N asked, stepping out of the bathroom with her hair brush. She was already in her pajamas, a threadbare t-shirt and short-shorts.

“Yeah, Dean’s headed to that bar a few blocks over. I know I’m beat and I think you are, too, so I told him we’d sit this one out.”

Y/N glanced at the blinking digital clock, and the red numbers told her it was a little past one in the morning. Dean never usually went out this late, but the man had the libido of a sixty year old guy that just discovered Viagra, so she only shrugged and nodded. “Probably a good plan. Are you going to come to bed right away or do some research?”

Sam cleared his throat and reached for his duffel. “Uh, no, no research. I’m gonna get changed and then we can sleep. I mean, like, we can sleep on our own sides of the bed. Not sleep… you know, together.” Sam winced and quickly grabbed his clothes before sprinting to the bathroom, missing the soft smile on Y/N’s lips as he rushed past her.

After changing and splashing some cold water against his face, Sam emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N on the right side of the bed already under the covers with all the lights off in the motel room, save for the small lamp on the nightstand illuminating a small area. He padded over to the bed and carefully lifted the covers, slipping into the warmth. He reached over and clicked off the lamp before tucking the ends of the blankets under his feet.

Mentally, he was exhausted, but his body was wide awake as he laid next to Y/N. He could feel her shuffling a few times as she settled, but he was wide awake, staring at the darkness of the motel’s ceiling, his fingers tapping impatiently where they were resting against his chest. Heavy silence passed for what felt like hours, until Y/N’s voice made Sam jump.

“So, casu consulto, huh?”

Sam’s entire body went rigid and he felt like he had ice water running in his veins. Biting his lip, he cursed under his breath before opening his mouth to reply. “You… you heard us?”

“You should know by now that motel room doors are really thin,” he felt her shift onto her side so she was looking at him, “and the window was open, too.”

Sam closed his eyes, willing the uncomfortable spring mattress below him to somehow become alive and swallow him whole. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he sent up a silent thank you that Y/N couldn’t see him. Unfortunately, Y/N took Sam’s silence as a sign something was wrong and Sam grunted when she flopped onto his chest and reached across to the night stand, turning the light on.

Y/N was smiling softly when she noticed the flush on Sam’s cheeks and the terrified look in his eyes. She was still sprawled out across his chest, and she shifted sideways to get in a better spot. “Oh, Sam. I’m not mad. Honestly, I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for months, and if Dean wants to take credit for being the mastermind behind it, that’s fine with me.”

“You what?” Sam asked in disbelief.

Y/N groaned and buried her forehead against Sam’s chest. “Sam, come on. Think.”

Sam’s mind began flashing with images of Y/N, how she’s been spending more time with him over his brother, how she’s been more flirty and open, and how she’s been returning the shy smiles and gentle touches that Sam didn’t think she noticed.

“I’m an idiot,” Sam exhaled after several minutes.

Y/N chuckled and lifted her head, resting it on the hand that was still flat on his chest. “Yeah, but at least you’re adorable.”

Sam growled playfully and wrapped a long arm around Y/N’s body, flipping her over so she was flat on her back under him. She let out a squeal followed by a giggle at the sudden move, but once she was under him and looking up at him with those big beautiful eyes, Sam finally let everything out. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, licking into her mouth once she parted her lips.

“Sam,” she gasped against his lips, feeling the length of his cock as it pressed between her thighs when he ground his hips forward.

Sam pulled back and grinned when her lips chased his. “You want this, right?”

“If I didn’t want this, you’d already be on the floor with a broken arm and bruised testicles,” Y/N deadpanned.

Sam chuckled and pecked her lips with a quick kiss. “That’s why I like you, Y/N.”

“And the fact you asked me is why I like you, Sam.” Y/N leaned up and Sam gave her space so she could pull her shirt over her head. Her breasts were perfect with nipples already hard and aching to be touched. Sam reached out and brushed his thumb over one of the stiff peaks, his lips parting in awe at the soft mewl that spilled from Y/N’s lips as her eyes fluttered shut.

“Mmm, sensitive,” Sam murmured, moving down to take her other nipple into his mouth, teasing the bud with his tongue and teeth.

“Sam,” Y/N cried out, tugging on his hair to get his attention. “We can do the whole ‘make love and explore each others bodies’ thing another time. I want you to fuck the hell out of me. Now.”

Sam’s eyes went wide and he nodded quickly. “Ye-yeah, I can do that… uh, do I need a condom?”

“Yeah, I can start birth control again in the future, if you wanted to be exclusive,” Y/N offered shyly.

“Y/N… now that I know how to feel about me, about us, I don’t think I’m ever letting you go.” Sam pressed a kiss to her knuckles before sliding from the bed, doing nothing to hide the massive tent in the front of his sweatpants.

“Okay, Harry Burns, hurry up.” Y/N watched as Sam walked to the other bed and quickly fumbled through the duffel bag sitting on top. “Wait, is that Dean’s bag?”

“Yeah it is, Sally Albright,” Sam glanced up quickly to wink before resuming his search, “Dean keeps the condoms in his bag. Wants me to think he gets laid more than I do.” Finding the demolished box of condoms, Sam ripped one off. He hesitated before he walked away and ripped another one off just in case.

As he walked back across the motel room, Sam shed his shirt and watched hungrily as Y/N slipped out of her shorts and began teasing her nipples, her lower body still covered by the sheet. Sam dropped his sweatpants as he reached the end of the bed before dropping down and ducking under the blankets at the bottom, slowly crawling up between Y/N’s legs. He pressed a kiss to her mound and slowly pressed kisses to random places on her exposed skin as he moved up her body.

When he emerged from under the sheet, he shook his head to get the hair out of his face and looked at Y/N with a dimpled smile. “Hey.”

Y/N giggled and pulled him the rest of the way up until their lips pressed together. “Hey.”

Sam sat back on his heels as he ripped open the condom packet, dropping the extra one off the side of the bed with the wrapper, and rolled it down his length. Carefully, Sam reached two fingers down, feeling the wetness between Y/N’s folds. She was soaking wet and he groaned as he slipped a finger into her pussy, easily gliding into the warmth. She was tight, and he began to push his finger in and out, spreading her slick around, before slipping another finger in.

“Sam,” Y/N whimpered, “need you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N,” Sam replied, voice husky as he watched her body swallow his fingers.

Y/N shifted up on her elbows and looked down at Sam, one eyebrow raised. “Sam, I know you won’t hurt me. I’m not a virgin, I can take it.” Her eyes traveled downward, spying his latex covered cock standing proudly, thick and long, and her eyebrows practically levitated off her forehead. “Holy fuck!”

Sam’s fingers stilled inside her and he met her eyes. “What?”

“You’re hung like a horse!” She shook her head, looking down again, trying to see if it was all a hallucination. “Scratch that, hung like an elephant! Get in me right now, Winchester.”

Sam laughed a full-body deep belly laugh, and crawled up, settling over Y/N and framing her face with his hands. He pecked her on the lips once more and reached down between them, lining his cock up with her pussy, gently pressing inside. Y/N gasped as the head slipped inside, her legs falling lax to either side, allowing Sam more room.

“Did you know that relative to its size, the barnacle has the largest penis of all animals?” Sam whispered in Y/N’s ear as he began to press forward, sliding another inch inside every couple of seconds.

“So, you want me to– Jesus… want me to say you’re hung,” Y/N gasped as he pushed the final few inches in so he was fully seated, “like a barnacle?”

“Nah, just say I’m hung like a Winchester.” Sam grinned and kissed the soft skin around Y/N’s neck and throat.

“Sam, move. Don’t hold back, Barnacle Boy.” Y/N chuckled, squeezing her pussy around Sam’s cock, smiling when he hissed and shuddered above her. “Wait, isn’t that a character from Spongebob?”

“Yup,” Sam confirmed. “But you better hold on to something, pretty sure you’re gonna forget your name in a few minutes.”

Oh, how right he was.

Y/N could only hold onto Sam’s shoulders, then the comforter on either side of her hips as Sam began rapid thrusts, the obscene sound of skin hitting skin filling the quiet motel room. Sam’s panted breaths fanned across her lips as tiny mewls and whimpers escaped her lips, eyes open and locked on Sam’s who was already looking at her.

Sam would pull back almost all the way before slamming forward, sending deliciously intoxicating bursts of pleasure searing through Y/N’s veins. For several minutes, Y/N’s mouth was open, head tilted back, no sound escaping as Sam worked her body like he’d known her intimately for years. The noises he made, the grunts and low moans were enough to have her teetering on the edge, but she needed more.

“Sam,” she gasped, reaching out for him. “I need–”

Sam nodded, understanding exactly what she was requesting. Balancing on one arm, he shifted his hips down and reached between their bodies. The new angle was allowing his cock to brush against Y/N’s sweet spot with every jerky thrust, and when his finger began to rub harsh circles on her clit, her entire body trembled as a long wanton moan spilled from her lips.

“Fuck, Sam, right there. Fuck me harder, give me it!” Y/N babbled through several uncontrolled moans.

“That’s it baby, come for me,” Sam whispered, sitting back so he could watch the show. He jerked his hips faster, adding more pressure against her clit until the dam finally broke.

Y/N’s body arched off the bed, her head thrown back in ecstasy, as her pussy clamped down on his cock like a vice. Sam was so distracted by how beautiful she looked as she came, that he almost didn’t realize he started coming as well. The rhythmic pulses of her pussy as she twitched with aftershocks drew every last drop from him until he groaned and slumped forward, holding most of his weight on his arm so not to crush her.

“Wow,” they both said at the same time, laughing together as they tried to catch their breath.

“That was amazing,” Y/N said, running her fingers through Sam’s hair where his head rested in the space between her breasts.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” Sam murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her breast. “I always thought you were beautiful with everything you did. Your laugh, your body, the way you kick ass… but seeing you like that?” He sighed wistfully. “I already miss it.”

“Well, if want… maybe we could make this a thing, make us a thing?” Sam raised his head at her request. “I mean, if you want. No pressure.”

“I think I’d like that,” Sam said, dimples indenting his cheeks as he smiled wide. He moved up the bed and flopped over next to Y/N, quickly removing the condom, tying it, and tossing it in the wastebasket next to the bed. “As long as you don’t fake any orgasms,” he added, poking her on the arm.

Y/N snorted. “I don’t think I’d have to fake anything with you.”

“Good,” Sam nodded. He leaned over to shut off the lamp, but grabbed his cell phone instead, typing a quick text message before he set it back down and clicked off the lamp.

Y/N scooted closer to him, resting her head on his chest, fingers tracing nonsense patterns over his chest. Sam wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and shut his eyes, exhaustion finally tugging at his consciousness. They sat in silence for what felt like ten minutes, before Y/N’s voice broke the quiet.

“So, barnacles, huh?”

Sam barked a laugh and pulled her closer, feeling like he finally found what he’s been looking for.

Dean’s phone vibrated against the worn wood of the bar, and he broke his attention away from the sweet redhead he was chatting up to check it.

> > Sam [1:39am]: Consulto amor. :-)

Dean grinned, letting out a soft chuckle before locking the screen and looking back over at his companion, licking his lips and giving her his patented Winchester seductive look. No way Sam was the only one getting laid tonight.

“So, Nora, what do you say we take this back to your place?”

She grinned and leaned forward, lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She pulled Dean from the bar stool so fast that the two twenties he dropped to pay for their drinks almost fell off the bar, and the only thing the bartender noticed as he glanced up was a leather jacket disappearing through the door and Dean’s laughter trailing off.

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busyfangirl @growningupgeek @jensen-gal @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @lastactiontricia @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @researchandbones @wayward-angelgirl @bojabee @maddiepants

Sam: @hunterswearingplaid @focusonspn​ @spnwoman

[averyrogers83writes]

Dreaming of a White Christmas

Title: Dreaming of a White Christmas (Part 1) Author: @averyrogers83 Warnings: Angst (more like fluffy angst), fluff Pairings: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 1702 Summary: Every year you hope to go back home and be with your family for Christmas, but every year you find yourself being asked to work.  Will this be the year your Grinch of a boss lets you go home or will you be stuck once again doing his dirty work. A/N: A little something for @interestedbystander #interestedbystander 12 Days of Christmas Challenge

Each year you make a promise to your family that this will be the one where you will finally make it home for Christmas, and each year you were forced to work instead.  It had been five years since you had been home to see the family and you were dying to get back. You missed everything about this time of year.  From cold “feel it in your bones” weather to the singing of Christmas carols with your friends and family. 

You grew up in the “Windy City” where every year you and your family would go out the day after Thanksgiving and hunt down the biggest Christmas tree you could find and spend the day decorating it. Each year you’d swear you found one bigger than the last.  

During the day you and your brothers would go out and build a snowman or have snowball fights with your friends until your mom invited you in from the cold with a big mug of hot cocoa and marshmallows in front of the fireplace. 

No matter how old you got you always looked forward to those moments. Snowball fights with your brothers seemed to get more intense and competitive, but you didn’t care.  You still stayed out till your mom called you in with a hot mug of cocoa.  

Everything changed though when you decided to move to Los Angeles for work. That’s when you met him, James Buchanan Barnes; sexy, smart, rich, and the biggest ass of a boss you had ever met.  

Since you had started working for him, he had you doing everything from picking up his laundry to making sure the flavor of the week had exited and left nothing behind.  You were miserable, and when Christmas rolled around and you find yourself being forced to work instead of going home.  The thought of going home for Christmas and being with your family and friends was the only thing that got you through the year with the boss from hell. 

For the past five years it was the same.  Mr. Barnes promising you a week off for the holidays only to come back and tell you that he needed you for some special project or that there were important papers that needed to be done before the end of the year or the job would fall through, and each year you’d swear it was your last and that no matter what you were going to go home, but then you’d chicken out and end up staying there to help him.  

Maybe it was the way he’d bring out those big blue puppy dog eyes when he’d ask you to stay.  Or maybe the way he smelled when he got close to you while you worked, or the way his smile made you weak in the knees.  Yeah he was the boss from hell alright.   No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop thinking about him.  You knew you didn’t have a chance with him and besides he was your boss.  All you wanted was a little time away so you could get over him and move on.  

This year, no matter what it was going to happen.  You had your plane ticket ready and your bags were packed.  You didn’t care if you didn’t have a job to come back to, you were determined to finally go home and be with your family.  

You gathered the files the two of you had been working on for the last month, along with his morning cup of coffee and headed to his office and made up your mind that you were going to give him an ultimatum.  Either he gives you the next two weeks off or you were going to quit.  

Mr. Barnes was staring at his computer when you walked in with a grim look on his face, a look you knew all too well. 

“Mr. Barnes I have the project reports ready for you” you stated as you laid them on his desk. 

James glanced up at you and smiled.  “Thanks Y/N, what would I do without you.” 

“Oh I’m sure you’d manage just fine.” 

“No, no I wouldn’t.  Without you I’d be lost.” 

You managed a smile and could feel the dread building up inside.  You knew what was coming next and you could feel your will falter.  No! Not this year.  This year you were going home. 

“Mr. Barnes ...tomorrow is Christmas Eve and…” 

“Oh is it?” was Bucky’s response as he continued to stare at his computer. 

“Yes sir, and I was going to ask to leave early so that I could make my flight home.” 

“You know I can’t do that. This is the busiest time and I need you here.” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  You knew if you looked at him you wouldn’t find the strength to do what you needed. 

“Then I quit” you couldn’t believe the words had left your lips, and as much as you didn’t want to you had to.  This was the last straw.  

“You can’t quit. I need you.” 

“And I need to go home. I need to be with my family who I haven’t seen since I started working for you. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this.” You didn’t give him a chance to say another word before turning around and walking out.  You didn’t know what you were going to do, but right now all you cared about was going home. 

 You were standing outside the home you grew up in, unable to believe that you had finally made it there. The moment you walked into the house you could smell the familiar scents of cinnamon, vanilla, and chocolate. Your dad was sitting in front of the t.v., your mom in the kitchen doing her holiday baking, and Max their Alaskan Husky lay by the fire.  

“Merry Christmas” you called from the doorway startling your parents.  

Your mother rushed from the kitchen covered in flour and wrapped her arms around you, while your dad crushed you in a big bear hug til you had to beg him to stop so you could breath.  You had missed this.

“I can’t believe your home.” your mom smiled with tears in her eyes. 

“I know, I would have called, but I wanted to surprise you.” 

“That you did.” 

“Harold take her bags upstairs and let her get some rest before everyone gets here” she demanded. 

You followed him upstairs to your old room, where your mom insisted on keeping everything just as you had left them. 

“Get some rest, pumpkin. Everyone will be here around six for dinner.” Your dad looked at you again and smiled, still unable to believe that his little girl was home. 

When you came down for dinner you were greeted by your brothers Ben and Jake, their wives, and each of their four kids.  It was no surprise that your nieces and nephews barely recognized you, you hadn’t seen them since the day they were born. 

Just as you were about to sit down to dinner you heard a knock at the door. 

“I’ll get it!” you called.  

When you opened it you couldn’t believe who standing there on your parent’s porch. 

“What are you doing here?”                                                                                           

“Y/N, I’m sorry I…” Bucky stammered, he was clearly not used to cold weather. 

“Who’s at the door?” your mother called as she rounded the corner.  

“It’s my boss, Mr. Barnes.” you managed, still shocked at seeing him there. 

“Well let the poor man in before he freezes to death.” Your mom shot daggers at you as she spoke.

“I kind of wish he would.” you mumbled as you stepped aside allowing for Bucky to come out of the cold, where he immediately beelined for the fireplace to warm himself.  

“What are you doing here Mr. Barnes.” 

Bucky warmed his hands and shifted through his thoughts to find the right words. “Look I’m sorry..I was an ass. I shouldn’t have fired you.” 

“You didn’t fire me. I. Quit. remember” you replied through clenched teeth.  

“Alright fine, but you can’t quit. I need you.”  Bucky gave you that million dollar smile that you could never resist. 

“No, I’m serious I quit. I can’t work for you anymore.” 

“Y/N please reconsider. We can renegotiate your contract.”  This was the first time you ever saw Bucky plead with you this way and you kind of liked it. 

You closed your eyes and out a heavy sigh “Fine, but we’ll discuss this after the new year. Now if you’ll excuse me.” 

Your mom seemed to have impeccable timing.  “So is your friend staying for dinner?” 

“No!” you blurted. There was no way you wanted your smart, sexy, pain in the ass boss near your family. 

“Sure, I’d love to stay.” Bucky smirked as he followed your mom to the dining room.  

“What lord, why me?” you cursed under your breath.  

Somewhere between the passing of the dinner rolls and getting dessert your mom had convinced Bucky to stay in the spare bedroom for the night.  

 After the kitchen was clean you headed up to get the spare room situated for Bucky.  You didn’t say a word to him when he came into the room. All you could hope was by morning he would be gone and you would be able to enjoy your Christmas. 

The next morning you woke up and looked outside your window to find that it had snowed overnight.  Everywhere you looked was covered in white.  Still in your flannel pj’s you jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs, throwing on your snow boots and coat as you rushed outside into the snow.  

You dove into the snow and began making a snow angel.  You had forgotten how much you missed snow until now.  It was like you were a kid again and you just found out school was closed for a snow day. 

You had forgotten all about Bucky showing up out of the blue, until you opened your eyes to find him staring down at you with those blue/grey eyes and that million dollar smile.  

@interestedbystanderwrites​ @hotoffthepressfics​ @buckysforeverprincess​ @shield-agent78​ @patzammit​ @dj-lowkey​ @chuuulip​ @ellaprime68​ @i-love-marvel3000​ @bloodiedskirtts​ @mychemicalimagines​ @drakelover78​ 

[wolfieartsandwrites]

The Babysitter - Chapter 1/5

Rating: none

Fandom: Broadchurch

Characters: Alec Hardy, Ellie Miller, Fred Miller, Tom Miller, Daisy Hardy

Additional Tags: fluff, humor, post season 3, dad!Alec, slight Alec x Ellie

Warnings: spoils some important parts of the show

Summary: Alec didn't remember exactly why he said 'yes' in the first place, but here he was, babysitting the young Fred Miller for an entire Saturday. It was just a child. He could perfectly handle it, right?

Alec didn't remember exactly why he said 'yes' in the first place. Maybe it was the way Miller busted into his office on Thursday morning with her usual smile but her not so usual worried eyes, or the way she stood there, longer than she would normally do, searching for her words. Miller never searched for her words. She would just yell at him and regret it later. Alec frowned. Did she come to announce bad news? Please, not another murder, Broadchurch was supposed to be a calm town and he probably wouldn't be able to handle one more murder. Yet she was smiling so it couldn't be that bad, could it? But it was that weird smile that didn't reach her eyes and Alec could see the concern floating in her eyes.

“What do you want, Miller?”

“Hello to you too.” She answered with an exasperated smirk.

“Yeah. So?”

“Well,” she said, taking her time to choose her next words. He didn't like when she did that. She was either going to say something terrible or trick him into doing something for her.

“Remember Tom has a football game on Saturday? Lunch with the team and all?” He nodded. The boy talked about it all week and so did Miller, supportive as she was.

“Well, I have this medical appointment I can't miss, really, called six months ago and it was already overbooked. A real nightmare, I tell you.”

Alec remembered her screaming obscenities on the phone and tried his best not to smile. It took him a moment to realize where she was going with this and he sighed. Trick it was.

“Miller, I'm not going to this football game for you, I know you were excited to go, but I think Tom is old enough not to need a supporter, especially not me, and the last time I went to a game was in Scotland and I really don't want to do it again so-”

“Oh, no!” she interrupted. “That's not what I meant! I know he doesn't want me to be there, you know, fifteen and such, having your mom cheering for you can be very annoying. No. It's just my dad left with my sister a few weeks ago so I don't have anyone to look after Freddie on Saturday.”

Alec stayed silent, confused. Miller stated fidgeting with her hands, nervous.

“Can't Beth keep an eye on him?” he asked.

“No, I asked her but it's her day off and she wanted to go visit Mark with Chloe and Lizzie, and before you ask, I can't drop him at Lucy's, it's way too far away. She lives in Liverpool now, can you believe it? Liverpool?”

“So what are you going to do? Take him with you?”

“Well I thought that, maybe... Maybe you could look after him for the day?”

He opened his eyes wide. Oh no. She wanted him to babysit the kid? Why not Daisy? Daisy would do a wonderful job. Ah, right, Daisy wasn't there this week-end. But how could he take care of a child? It was probably the worst idea she ever had. The last kid he looked after was Daiz and she was his kid, so it was very different. Oh god, here she was with the sad puppy eyes. He knew he was doomed.

“Hm, well.” he managed after an awkward silence. “I-”

“You know what? You're right. It was a terrible idea. You'll probably be busy in here all day anyway, getting drown in work and not taking care of yourself as usual. Like, there is this really important case right? What could be more important on a Saturday than a woman who got her 150 quids worth garden gnome stolen? Who keeps a gnome that expensive in their garden by the way?”

Alec took a deep breath.

“Sure.” he muttered.

“And you probably have plans with Daisy this weekend. She's staying right? Shopping? Do you even do shopping? You have like one suit and two jumpers, Hardy, this is so- wait, what?”

“I said sure. I'll babysit your child, if you can't find anyone else.”

“His name is Fred.” she corrected.

“Right.”

They looked at each other for a very long time. Ellie scowled.

“This is... nice. It doesn't look like you. You don't do nice.”

“Oi! You asked! And you can find someone else if you want.”

“No! It's fine, thanks, really. You're my savior here.”

“As always, Miller.”

“Shut it, you knob.”

She gave him a bright smile and he sighed one more time, rubbing his beard. Joyful Miller was back.

“Ten at my house will be fine?”

“Yeah. Will do.”

She smiled once more and breathed out, relieved. Alec was about to tell her to get out and get back to work when he noticed the look she was giving him.

“What, again?”

“So...” she laughed. “What happened in Scotland?”

“Oh, shut up, Miller.”

*****

So here he was, standing under the Millers' porch, wondering again why he accepted to babysit this kid for almost an entire day, instead of staying home, with his daughter out and about, and just having some well-deserved rest. Said daughter told him it was “what friends do” and Alec silently agreed. Miller was exhausted and the appointment was important. She didn't need more stress worrying about her kids' well-being. To be completely honest, he was quite positively surprised she thought about asking him and not putting the wee one to child care. After everything that happened with Joe, it was nice to see that she trusted a man enough to put her youngest kid to his care. He was glad she trusted him enough, somehow. Now, the whole point was trying not to mess up. It was just one day, everything would be fine. Alec pressed the doorbell. He heard quick footsteps coming his way and keys shifting in the lock. The door flew open in front of him and Ellie appeared, smiling. She looked at him from head to toe and raised her eyebrows, visibly surprised.

“You're here.” she observed.

“Yeah...”

“I mean, you are actually here.”

“Well,” he said, started to feel the exasperation growing. “You asked me to be here at ten on Saturday, it's ten and it's Saturday.”

“I know what I said.” she replied sharply. “It's just...” she paused. “I thought you would find some lame last minute excuse not to come.”

Alec didn't know what to answer to that. Did she really thought so little of him? He knew how stressed she was lately and she was probably even more at the idea of leaving her son with him, but he said he would be there, so he was. He wouldn't let her down like this. He gave her a sheepish smile.

“You know I wouldn't put you in such an embarrassing situation, Miller.”

She gave him a look and he knew it came out wrong. Still, it was true so he didn't add anything.

“Well, I guess it wouldn't be appropriate to make you stay under my porch all day so please, come in.”

She gestured him to hurry, a small smile floating on her lips. Alec followed her inside and she locked the door behind them. He felt a bit sad about it. Three years ago, she would have let the door open to anyone needing any help at all. Her friends would probably have just popped up inside saying hello and staying for tea, and she would have loved it. Now, her house was a fortress. He couldn't blame her to be that cautious. After all, he had been the first to tell her to stop trusting everyone. He wished he had been wrong. If Joe was smart enough �� and Alec knew he was – he wouldn't come back to Broadchurch. However, Miller wouldn't risk him getting in, so she changed the locks and made sure to always close the doors behind her.

Alec blinked and focused back on her. She was wearing her casual suit and was looking at him with a cheeky smile and shiny eyes. She looked good. They moved to the living room, where the little boy was playing with some toy cars on the carpet. Alec hoped he would be that calm all day.

“You remember Uncle Alec, sweetheart?”

Said Alec rolled his eyes. Ellie noticed and sighed.

“Don't make him call you Hardy, Hardy. He is four, you are Uncle Alec to him.”

“I wonder whose fault it is.” he answered.

Before she could reply, Fred got up and walked to them, the same big smile as her mother spreading on his face.

“Hello Uncle Alec!”

“Hello wee Fred”, he replied softly. “I'm taking care of you today.”

Alec ruffled the little boy's hair and Fred's grin grew bigger. The child flew his arms around the man's waist and hugged him tight. Surprised, Alec tensed a bit, before awkwardly patting his head. It was a nice feeling.

“Haven't been hugged in a long time, Hardy?” Ellie teased.

He gave her a look and grimaced, not wanting to tell her to shut up in front of the boy. His colleague's smile said it all and he coughed, embarrassed. Fred wasn't letting go, looking at Alec with pure adoration in his eyes and Ellie had to put her hand on his arm to catch his attention.

“Freddie, would you let Alec take his coat off?”

“No,” the boy answered with all the stubbornness of a four-year-old.

“Oh. And why so?” she asked.

“I missed Uncle Alec.” he said as a matter of fact.

Alec felt his heart grow three sizes and hold back a smile.

“I won't go anywhere, Fred. Promise.” he stated.

The kid hesitated for five solid seconds before stepping back so he could get rid of the said coat. Ellie stayed silent a moment while he was hanging it.

“I'm sorry you have to do this.”

“What do you mean? I told you it was no problem, Miller.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was surely looking really desperate the other day and when people feel pity they say 'yes' when they want to say 'no'. And you probably had plans with Daisy and--”

“No.” he said.

“No?”

“No, I didn't have plans for the week-end. Daisy stayed at Claire's house yesterday night and is only coming back tonight. They are in the same school, Daiz and her. I'm glad she's making friends around here, building things, you know. So I'm not gonna lock her up inside with me.”

Ellie nodded. Alec always tried so hard with Daisy and things where going pretty well now, so she understood he didn't want to mess it up.

“She asked me what I was doing today, actually,” he added.

“Oh, really?” she smirked. “Did you admit you were babysitting?”

“Yeah sure, why wouldn't I?”

Ellie didn't answer. He looked genuinely surprised by her remark, like it wasn't something people would normally do.

“Nevermind,” she smiled. “What did she say?”

“That it was funny and she could hardly imagine me babysitting.”

“Well, she's not wrong. You barely look after yourself.”

“Who asked for help again?” he retort, starting to feel quite irritated.

“You have to admit that people would talk if they knew, you know...”

“Know what, Millah?”

“That you kinda have a real heart.” she smirked.

He huffed and looked away. Touché.

“Yeah. DI Hardy babysitting the youngest Miller during his rare free time.” he grimaced.

“That's weird.” she conceded. “Sorry again.”

“Don't be.”

Daisy also said it was cute, that he cared about that kid. He didn't replied anything to that. He cared about Miller and therefore about her kid. Simple math. But it made him smile, that his daughter would find him cute somehow. He had been called a lot of names recently, but cute wasn't one of them.

Fred grabbed the DI's hand and started following him around as Miller explained to him where he could find anything he needed, what shows Fred liked to watch, at what time he ate and how to basically entertain him. Alec nodded every time she looked at him, not sure that he would remember everything, but quite confident that he would figure things out. He had been a toddler's dad once, after all. He could do it again for one day, couldn't he?

“He will probably take his nap around three. Or four.” added his friend.

“Probably?” repeated Alec, hoping it would turn into a 'certainly'.

“Yeah, he doesn't sleep much anymore. Always need to be active. Quite tiring some days.”

Alec breathed in and closed his eyes for a second. He had hoped for a quiet day in, not a four-year-old Stormaggedon high on sugar. Once he reassured her for the fifth time that he remembered everything – even if he did not – and that she could leave at peace, Ellie finally put her big orange coat and kissed her son on both cheeks, Fred making faces and hugging her back. She turned to Alec, nervous, and sighed, about to add something. But he knew better and cut her off:

“It's gonna be alright, Miller.”

“If you have any problem, you can call me at any time, my phone is always on. Tom won't be back before five.”

“I know,” he assured. “Everything will be fine.”

“Well, that's definitely what people say before everything goes wrong, Hardy.”

He narrowed his eyes, slightly annoyed. She chuckled.

“I trust you, you know. But if anything happens to Fred, Hardy, anything--”

“You're gonna kick my ass,” he completed. “And you would be right to do so. But nothing is gonna happen to him, so stop worrying and focus on yourself for one day. I'll call you if I need anything.”

“You better.” she warned, a slight smile finding its way to her face.

Alec shrugged and opened the front door to let her get to her car.

“And don't phone and drive.” he added, a serious tone in his voice.

“Are you playing the concerned boss again?”

“Still awful?”

“Getting there. I'll text you when I arrive.”

He nodded and she waved at them before getting in the car. Alec waited for her to leave the yard and disappear to close the door behind him, turning to Fred.

“Alright wee mate, what do you want to do?”

Fred thought for a while before pointing to the living room.

“TV?”

“Sure.”

Alec smiled to himself. TV was great. TV was calm. It would give them a few moments to rest together before lunch. He put the Peppa Pig DVD in the player before sitting on the couch, the boy cuddling on his side, a dinosaur toy he grabbed on the floor resting on his knees. He could do it.