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1d1195 · 1 month

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Ding - Round 1

I had this little idea. The meeting came to me in a dream, no word of lie. Classic little trope, I know. I'm hoping to work in some smuttier things down the line. Hope I do it justice and you like it 💕 Erring on the side of caution; probably not suitable for Ramadan

You'll be able to read the rest here eventually: Ding

~3.8k words

As she did the wind took her door not much, nor hard but enough to bump into the car beside her.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes, still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It was cold and rainy all day long. It made her want to curl up in a ball with a good book on her sofa and not get up for hours and hours. The kind of day where she wished she wasn’t an adult, and she was back home. Back when her dad would make her hot chocolate, they would watch old movies, and he would give insider information into all the hubbub that happened behind the scenes. How the actors interacted and when the props failed or something of that nature.

Her father was a great film critic. But he always said “even ‘bad’ movies have good.” She had seen tons of movies. Summers during school were filled with at least one movie a night. Sick days were made for marathoning series. When they weren’t watching movies, he was taking her to baseball games, teaching her how to cook—“the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, honey”—and making sure that she knew how to be spoiled by any man that deigned to enter her life. She was handy around the house and fiercely independent.

As much as she enjoyed cooking with her dad, baking was her real passion. She loved the science of baking: how butter affected cookies, temperature changed the consistency of cakes, and nothing made her happier than playing with baking powder and baking soda to change the rise of her pastries.

It led her to this spot. This little bakery. School for business and plenty of classes on cooking and baking. At the age of twenty-seven she was extremely lucky; for the last three years her business had been so successful. It was in local and state magazines about a hot spot for tourists and one of those shops that everyone just loved.

She wished her dad could see it but knew he would be proud of her regardless.

A strong gust of wind pulled her from her thoughts. There was a late-night closing report she needed to go over—a favor to her regular closer who needed to get home to her little baby. But really, A Pinch of Sprinkles was her baby and she loved to be in the little shop that smelled like the cupcakes she loved making.

She zipped her coat up, pulling her hood over her hair. It was hardly any further than a 40-yard dash to her little bakery door but in a steady rain like this, she thought not even her rubber boots would be enough to keep her dry for the short little sprint she would have in just a moment. She thought of her dad again, who would have run around to her door and held an umbrella over her head before getting out in the rain. With a deep, sad sigh, she braced herself, opened her door and reached for her umbrella and purse on the passenger seat.

As she did the wind took her door. It wasn't much, nor hard to create real havoc, but enough to bump into the car beside her. “Fuck,” she hissed getting out quickly, her belongings be damned her hair getting wet and stringy almost immediately. She slammed her door shut, turned to the car beside her, and made eye contact with the person in the driver’s seat. Her lips parted slightly, heart hammering in her chest. There was hardly anything more than a bit of a ding on the the stranger's car but the unmoving gaze that returned from the front seat intimidated her immensely.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It felt like thunder was inside her chest, the way her heart was thudding against her ribs. An intimidating man, his hair not quite buzzed off but not quite much more than an inch or two long, deep, soulful eyes. His gaze didn’t drop from hers. It was like he was having a staring contest.

“I... am... so sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid to admit she was terrified. It wasn’t that she was terrified of men. But in a dark parking lot and someone who looked so intimidating... well it was a modern-day-female nightmare.

The man smiled and suddenly he was no longer intimidating. Dare she say, he was even cute. The left half of his mouth quirked up and he glanced down at his hands on the steering wheel, tapped a quick rhythm on it, and turned back to her. “S’okay,” he shrugged, rolling the window back up. He stepped out into the rain in the same motion, rain not bothering him as it began to soak his hair and slid down his face. The man was gorgeous. A walking ad for raincoats and umbrellas. He meandered over to where she stood. Her heart still pounded now for an entirely new reason. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reached for the blemish on his car. “See, jus’ a ding,” he rubbed his fingers over the little indent a few times before turning back to meet her gaze again.

His grin was adorable.

The air came out of her in a whoosh loud enough to rival the one that took her door right into his car. “I’ll pay for it to be fixed,” she promised.

He chuckled. “S’fine, love,” he assured her. “S’jus’ a ding,” he repeated with a shrug.

By now she was drenched. It wasn’t a downpouring, but the steadiness of the raindrops won out. Without any regard to how she was stood still between the two cars—soaking the inside of her seat as well—he leaned in, grabbed her purse, umbrella and closed the door behind him. Honestly, it didn’t even cross her mind that he was going to rob her. That alone should have raised about ten alarm bells in her head. Instead, for whatever reason, she felt safe.

He handed her own bag to her. It felt so strange. Like she didn’t know what to do with it. He paid no mind to her uneasiness. Without any acknowledgment of their weird meeting and their even weirder interaction thus far, he opened the umbrella and held it over the pair of them to keep a little dryer—even though they were both already soaked.

“Let’s go,” he put a hand on her lower back to usher her out from between the cars.

Reality and her brain finally restarted in her head. “Excuse me? Go where?”

He shrugged. “Well... y’did ding m’car. Assumed y’could at least come with me.”

“Come with you where?” She repeated incredulously.

“Oh right, sorry. D’you have plans? A date?”

“Well...no...”

“Great,” he tiled his head in gesture toward their current path, the opposite direction of her bakery.

“Can you tell me where it is you want me to go?” But she was already following the gentle touch on her back to keep her moving in his current direction. She should have felt unsafe. This was unnatural. How could she not be scared?

He pointed at the municipal building—it was old and pretty. Pretty typical for a little tourist area. Lights caught the raindrops that fell to the ground that hung from ancient looking black iron sconces. Steps up to the main doors were cobblestone and probably brand new as they were replaced over the years. Back in the day it was probably home to many rousing mini-city debates. It was hard to imagine back then it would ever become the bustling little tourist center it was at present. “Y’ever been in?” He asked.

She shook her head. It was like he was a truth serum wrapped in a hot body. There was nothing to explain her reasoning to answering him. “Not since I was little. My dad took me to a magic show here.”

“Well, s’not quite as magical, but s’a fight tonight.”

“A fight?”

“Boxing.”

“Boxing?” She repeated.

“M’not trying t’be rude, are y’hard of hearing?”

“What? No,” she shook her head, confusion coloring her features. “Why?”

“Y’keep repeating everything I say,” his ever-present half-smile was mocking her.

She scowled at him, shook her head again, and halted them in the middle of the rainy sidewalk. “Please stop walking. I’m so confused,” she put her hands on her temples. Why was she even following him? She didn’t need to be with him right now. She could have walked the other direction just as easily and told him to take a hike.

“Mmm... I’d rather not, I’ve got t’get ready,” he explained inching further along the path with the umbrella in his hand still. “M’on the first card.”

“Let’s try this again,” she stood her ground. Deciding now that if he were a serial killer, it would be too late but at least she could have the satisfaction of trying. “I don’t know your name and contrary to my current actions I'm actually very wary of strangers. But I own the bakery right over there in the main square. I was going to run the closing report. I’ll wait there until your fight is over,” she suggested--where she at least had security cameras set up and would have proof of a stranger murdering her with a baking sheet. “You can come get my insurance info then,” she spun quickly away from him, and started back toward the direction of the bakery; he could keep the umbrella.

“Your bakery?” He asked, following her a few paces back.

“Yes. A Pinch of Sprinkles. It’s right over there,” she gestured to the main bustling little square.

“You own the bakery: A Pinch of Sprinkles?”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

He snorted at her and smirked once more. “Alright,” he sighed holding his hands up in surrender. “M’Harry. M’in a boxing match tonight. M’normally in there by now getting ready. But this really pretty girl dinged m’car,” his smile was so boyish for someone who scared the lights out of her only minutes before. “And y’did kind of promise t’come with me as payment,” he looked at her knowingly.

“I did not promise that,” her tone was defensive. “I said I would pay for the dent to be fixed.”

“I know y’did. S’very nice of you. S’not what I want. This is how I want you t’pay me.”

“By coming to watch your fight?”

He nodded eagerly. But she saw his eyes scanning her. He was still holding her umbrella while she continued to get soaked. Her dad would have a conniption at the sight of a stranger holding her umbrella and not keeping her dry. But it didn’t bother her. If anything, she kind of liked it if only because it gave her a chance to look at how adorable he was holding her flowery umbrella when she knew the embodiment of intimidation was going to punch someone at three-minute intervals.

Harry stepped closer, bringing her back under the umbrella. “Look... If y’really need t’go to your bakery, then no, of course m’not going t’stop you. But if it can wait, then s’how y’can repay me,” he shrugged. They were huddled close together under the umbrella. Her hair was a wet stringy mess. She knew very little about boxing. Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Rocky and The Eye of the Tiger. That was about the extent of her knowledge. Boxing wasn’t one of the major sports her dad imparted his wisdom about to her.

“You want me to go to your fight as payment for your car dent?”

“Are y’going t’jus’ keep saying the same thing as me but as a question all night?” She knew she was repeating herself again. She pursed her lips to refrain from asking another question. “C’mon, Cupcake... m’really starting t’run late here,” he pointed to his wrist with an imaginary watch.

Cupcake.

What was she getting herself into?

She took a deep breath trying to calm the bit of nerves. “I’m not really a go with the flow kind of girl. I have a lot of questions.”

He smiled sweetly. Nodded like he expected such an answer, like he knew her already. “M’sure you do,” he agreed. “But... I really need t’go in. Like right now. Louis is going t’kill me if I don’t appear in front of him four minutes ago. When the fight’s over, I’ll walk y’to A Pinch of Sprinkles. We’ll run y’closing report and I’ll answer every question y’have.”

It took every bit of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from repeating him again. We. “There’s also the whole... I don’t know you at all, thing,” she reminded him stepping out from the umbrella again. “Seems like a bad idea on my part.”

It was almost moot though. Even she heard the way her voice sounded like she was caving as she said it. He stepped closer again. “You’re right. S’good instincts that I admire y’have,” he held his phone out to her, the screen catching a few drops of rain. “S’my niece,” he told her of the baby on the lit screen. She was only a few months old based on the picture. “She’s got me wrapped around m’finger and she’s barely old enough t’even see me and know m’holding her. Least that’s what m’sister Gemma says,” he shrugged. The adoration, the love in his voice made her stomach flip. It was unbelievably adorable this scary man was in love with a little baby. His voice was so sweet, it made her feel at ease. “I grew up with Mum and Gemma,” he looked her squarely in the eye. “I know m’about t’go in there and punch another grown man, but m’not dangerous. Especially not towards a girl who parked in a dark parking lot who owns a bakery with a sprinkles pun," her heart softened. “I know y’have questions, Cupcake. But I really need t’go in there,” he was growing the slightest bit impatient. “Louis is gonna send Niall out looking for me and then m’screwed. I need y’decision either way.”

It was perhaps her dumbest idea ever. Even stupider than when she tried to make peanut butter cookies without peanut butter to make them allergy friendly. “Are you going to win?” She asked.

He chuckled. “Think so. Especially if you’re there as m’good luck charm," he winked.

When she thought about this in the future or when she ended up on a true crime TV episode, it would be this moment that thousands and millions of people would say "how could she be so stupid?"

But she started for the building ahead of him, anyway. He fell into step beside her holding the umbrella over her again. “Probably not a good idea to put stock into me when I just dented your car.”

“S’jus’ a ding, Cupcake,” he smiled. “Something t’remember y’by.”

She couldn’t believe how quick and flirtatious he was. He knew all the right things to say and wasn’t even the least bit nervous it seemed. When he went into the ring or something she would have to Google his name and see if she accidentally made a fool of herself talking to a professional boxer. “You’re something else.”

They entered the building from a back door guarded by a man who gave Harry a nod as he ushered the sweet girl inside. “You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?” A blonde man with an Irish accent asked, running his hand through his hair right as the guard at the door pulled the door shut from the outside. “I was just about to go see what happened this time,” he started back down the hall, deeper into the building. “He’s losing his mind,” he warned.

Harry shrugged. “Met a girl,” he smiled back at her. “She owns the bakery. She’s gonna be my good luck charm”

“Oh, you’re the reason for my freshman fifteen,” the blond man wiggled his eyebrows at her as he turned to her as well.

“Cupcake, this is Niall, he’ll keep an eye on you,” he assured her.

“Cupcake, hmm?” Niall chuckled. “Louis’ gonna kill you,” he skipped ahead of Harry. “Found him!”

“Harold you better have been held at gunpoint!” The shout was nearly hysterical as they approached the open room.

“He was just talking to Cupcake,” Niall was nearly giggling. Louis, she presumed, wasn’t the least bit amused. His face was hard. His blue eyes cold, his jaw as sharp as his words.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snapped. “Get your fucking clothes on,” he ordered.

Harry rolled his eyes and winked in her direction. “Hold this for me?” He asked, handing her his phone. The picture of the little babe illuminated the screen and a message from Mum was previewed on the screen so she couldn’t help but read, “Good luck honey bunny!” With about ten four-leaf clover emojis and just as many hearts. It warmed her heart so much to see the message on this scary man’s phone. She had doubts now that he was going to murder her later. A murderer wouldn’t have a supportive mom like that, right? Or a picture of their niece as their phone background? “See y’in a bit, Cupcake,” he gave her arm a squeeze and leaned her umbrella beside the door leading into the next room.

Niall was sipping a beer from a clear cup. “Y’ready, Cupcake?”

She snorted, sticking his phone into her purse alongside hers and nodded. “Sure. M’gonna have a lot of questions.”

He laughed. “Well, I have a lot of questions for you,” he promised pushing a set of double doors and into a thrumming, crowded arena.

It was definitely not a magic show.

Blinking, Niall put a gentle hand on her back and leaned toward her ear so she could hear better. “How do you know Harry?”

“I don’t,” she shouted back to be heard over the crowd. There were people getting things set up, announcements being made, and the like. There were people cheering and she couldn’t believe how big the boxing ring looked. The only boxing ring she had ever seen was the one in Rocky. Moreover, the only thing she knew about that ring was that the audience in the movie was given a free chicken dinner for showing up to the arena and they dimmed the lights, so it looked like more people were there. “My car door hit his car.”

“You hit Clay?”

“Who’s Clay?”

“His car!”

“He named his car, Clay?”

“Like Cassius Clay?”

Again, she didn’t know much about boxing, but she realized immediately that Harry named his car after the greatest heavyweight boxer ever. Oh, Lord. What did you get yourself into? She thought to herself. “Er… yeah… I guess so.”

“And he didn’t...” Niall drifted off curiously. “Hmm,” it seemed he surmised something in his head but didn’t let her in on the secret. He gestured to a chair that was front and center of the corner of the ring for her to sit. He took the seat beside her and leaned close as she spoke to him again. “How do you know Harry?”

“We’ve been best friends since Uni,” he shrugged. “Been icing his bruises for years.”

She nodded. “I see. Are you recently graduated? You said freshmen fifteen?”

Niall laughed. It was contagious. Made her feel safe still. The whole last ten minutes were surreal. She really followed a stranger to a boxing match. She was sitting with his best friend asking questions about someone she hardly knew. “Just a joke, Cupcake. You are single handedly responsible for my recent weight gain since you moved into town. Well, you and that Irish soda bread you made last March. It tasted like home.”

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “I was so nervous about it!”

Talking about sweet treats and breads and cupcakes was more her speed. “Oh, it was perfect, Cupcake. Rivaled my nan’s.”

Well, maybe Harry wasn’t so scary.

At least his friends were nice. Although... “Louis hates me, doesn’t he?” The thought of someone hating her, even though she didn't even know him made her sad.

Niall rolled his eyes. “No, he’s just so sick of Harry being late. Thinks because he’s undefeated on this circuit he can do whatever he wants.”

“Undefeated?” She was grateful Harry wasn’t there to hear her question repeating the same thing Niall said again.

“Not much of a boxer are you, Cupcake?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

He chuckled. “Harry’s very good. You’ll see.” Clearly. What did he need a good luck charm if he was already undefeated. She really needed to research him.

As if he heard his own name, he dropped into the seat across from her. It would be inside the ring between rounds but for now it allowed him to gaze at the pretty girl he met moments before. “Hi Cupcake,” his smile was sugary—and she knew sugar.

“Hi,” she murmured, willing her eyes to stay focused on his face and not his bare torso. A litany of tattoos painted his skin and a pair of vines dipped into the band of the shorts he wore. Everything was black. His shorts, his tattoos, his shoes, and his gloves. She could see tape going up half the length of his forearm keeping the bottom of his gloves in place.

“That’s a record for you getting ready. Must be your good luck charm,” Niall nudged her with his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you those soda breads were delicious?”

Harry kept his eyes on her and nodded. “Y’did.”

“Told you,” Niall assured her.

“Wouldn’t shut up ‘bout them,” Harry was unmoving, his body, his gaze. His phone was in her purse. He was looking at her like she was pretty, and she knew her makeup and hair was ruined by the rain. “M’a bigger fan of those raspberry filled cupcakes of yours,” he told her. “S’like heaven in a cupcake.”

“Harry, I swear to God!” Louis shouted.

Harry smiled ruefully, winked at her again and finally moved, heading back toward the sound of Louis’ voice. “Niall, don’t let her leave, yeah?”

Niall saluted him and she watched him leave again. She cleared her throat, turning in her seat toward the door, she exited to get to her ring-side seat. “Good luck, Harry,” she called, unsure if he would hear her over the building crowd.

Harry turned back right as he got to the door and winked again. “Thanks Cupcake,” he called back loud enough for everyone to hear that he was talking to her. Niall chuckled, shook his head, and put a friendly arm across the back of her chair.

He was kind enough to lean to her ear so that others wouldn’t hear the next thing he said because it made her blush and nearly melt to the floor right in front of Harry’s best friend and the very ring, he would be punching another grown man in just a few minutes. “Hope you like your boyfriends like your frosting, Cupcake. Because that man is already whipped for you.”

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cjsoleil · 2 months

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Fallen Like Stars and Raindrops (Seungmin x Reader)

Summary: Seungmin is the baseball star at their university and his girlfriend loves him more than anything, even though she doesn’t like the sport.

Warnings: Smut

Authors note: So I wrote this just because there are a lot of works that perceive Seungmin as more mean, which is fine, but I wanted to write him being soft and sweet with a lot of fluff. Enjoy.

Baseball is one of the most boring sports in the world. Well, for Y/N, all sports are boring, but especially baseball. When she tells people this, they always ask the same question.

“How could you say that?”

Their shock is understandable, she is dating the star baseball player at their university. Y/N responds with,

“Watching baseball is boring. Watching Seungmin play baseball is not. It’s an entirely different thing.” It doesn’t make much sense, but watching Seungmin play baseball is really just watching him do something he loves. If Seungmin loved to watch paint dry, Y/N would be right beside him, enjoying herself as the glisten of the walls disappeared.

Despite not loving the sport, Y/N loves going to all of Seungmin’s games. Loves how happy he is, loves the way he looks for his girl in the crowd, clad in his old jersey that is too big for her with his number 07 on the back. Seungmin grins at her and she rolls her eyes with a smile. Seungmin always looks for her after a good pitch or when he returns to home base. Like a dog looking to his owner for praise. Y/N holds up her camera, taking a picture before blowing a kiss and waving him off.

At the end of the game and after Seungmin finishes changing, he runs back out to meet up with Y/N. He will either hug her quickly, since neither of them love public affection, and tell her that he and the team are going out to celebrate their win. He’ll invite her to come and maybe she will, depending on her mood. Or he will choose to ditch the team to hang out with her instead, not that they mind. Today it’s the latter.

“Next time you drive.” Y/N comments from behind the wheel of her car, “You only learn by practicing, baby.” She’s been teaching Seungmin to drive. He hates driving, but she insists it’s a necessary skill. Her hand lays on top of Seungmin’s on the stick shift. It’s for muscle memory she tells him, when they both know she really just wants to hold his hand.

“So you had a good game? I saw you won.” Seungmin nods.

“Yeah.” He shifts in his seat, “I kind of wish it lasted longer.”

“Still full of energy?” He hums in agreement. Seungmin is a person who is very calm, but can be very restless at times. Y/N taps her fingers on the wheel a few times as an idea pops into her head.

“I know a way to help you with that.”

Y/N is not athletic. She does not play sports, she doesn’t like sports. Despite this, she finds herself in this situation a lot.

“Come here, pretty lady.” Seungmin smiles and gestures for his girlfriend to come to him with his hand. When she gets close enough, he wraps his arms around her waist from behind. They’re at an empty park, throwing around a baseball. It was Y/N’s idea, Seungmin loves playing with her. She knows because she asked him a while back,

“Baby, you’re my favourite person to play with.”

“What a sweetheart, but you don’t have to lie.” He smacked the back of her head very lightly.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Y/N will always let Seungmin teach her how to throw or to use a bat for the hundredth time. It makes him happy, never frustrated or even annoyed no matter how many times he needs to show her how to do something.

Seungmin places a firm kiss on her cheek.

“Like this.” He uses his foot to move her legs apart slightly and puts her into a good throwing position, “You’re getting better, but you need more power to your throws.” He holds her hand with the ball and imitates the motion of throwing it multiple times.

“You don’t need to make excuses to get your hands on me Min.” She teases, tilting her head up to look at him. He rolls his eyes and pulls away, rustling Y/N’s hair before putting his baseball hat on her head. When he’s far enough away, she throws the ball the same way a pitcher would, a really bad pitcher, and he catches it easily.

“That was good right?” Y/N asks as she goes up to him and he shrugs.

“Good for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Generally you're pretty bad-“ Y/N dramatically gasps, cutting him off.

“Ouch. Feels like you stabbed me in the heart Kim Seungmin.” He frowns at her bad acting. They stay at the park until a few drops of rain start to fall, “Looks like it might storm.” Y/N comments, looking at the gray clouds in the sky. She’s happy it didn’t start to rain until after Seungmin’s game, he hates it when they’re canceled, “Let’s go home. Don’t want you to smell like a wet dog.” She failed to dodge the baseball he threw at her.

“Abuse.”

“Idiot.”

Y/N taps her fingers on the steering wheel, listening to Seungmin as he starts to sing along softly to the song. It’s heavy downpour coming down, they’re lucky it didn’t start until after his game. Seungmin’s also lucky, since he got out of driving for the day.

“If baseball doesn’t work out, you could always become an idol.” Y/N tells him after a few minutes, making him laugh, “I’m serious Minnie. Beautiful voice with a face to match. Any company would be lucky to have you.”

“Stop it.” He blushes, looking out the window.

“We wouldn’t be able to be together publicly though. At least not until you went solo. I guess the forbidden, secret romance could be fun at first. But I’d miss you too much. I’d probably have to become a manager just so I could follow you around. Maybe a stylist, I’d make you look so cute, not that you don’t already but-” Seungmin listens as she goes on about the fake scenario.

“Maybe in another life.” He tells her, and seeing they stopped at a red light, he lifts her hand and kisses her palm.

“You think we would still be together?”

“We would.” He answers like it’s obvious, “In whatever fictional or hypothetical lives you make up for us, I love you in every one.” He pauses, before continuing, “If I were to be stuck in a world without you in it, I think I would rather not be there at all.”

“For someone who doesn’t believe in fate, you sure talk like you do.”

“You’re my universe, of course I am with you in every one. ”

The girl shakes her head and pats Seungmin’s hand,

“Shut up before I crash the car.”

Their apartment is small, but it’s enough for the two of them. They used to live on residence, but decided to move in together before the start of third year. They each have their own bedrooms, but Seungmin is the one with a bigger bed. His room is less cluttered as well. On his bed, Y/N lays on her back with Seungmin resting between her legs, head on her stomach. She scrolls on her phone with one hand, running the other one through Seungmin’s fluffy black hair.

“Your stomach is loud.” He tells her, and Y/N pulls his hair in response but doesn’t do anything more. He pulls up her, really his jersey, kisses the bare skin of her stomach.

Y/N reached over to place her phone on the bedside table, knowing where this will lead.

“I won my game today.” He kisses her hip bone, biting softly.

“I know, and I’m proud.” Moving up, he faces Y/N and kisses her for a few seconds before pulling back, smiling against her lips.

“Don’t you think I deserve a prize?” He whispers against her lips, eyes fluttering closed.

“Calling me a prize?” She grins, watching as Seungmin blushes, “You know how to charm me, Min.” Laughing softly, she cups his face,

“Whatever you want, baby.”

She can hear Seungmin inhale sharply, and it’s endearing how flustered he still gets with her. Taking off his sweater first, he reveals his lean torso.

“My eyes are up here.” He teases when he sees Y/N’s stare. She grabs the hem of the jersey she’s wearing, but her hands are pulled away before she can take it off,

“Leave it on.”

“Possessive.” Seungmin can’t defend himself because it’s true. He likes having his girl to herself, and he gets a little jealous when he sees her with her teammates at times, even though he will never admit it.

The athlete moves back to his original position, arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist as he kisses and nips along her stomach. When he eventually gets frustrated with the barriers between them, he stands up. In just a few seconds Seungmin is left in only his boxers, Y/N in only a jersey. When he’s back on top of her, he kisses along her neck, leaving a few marks as he moves along. Licking a stripe up her jaw before kissing her lips even after they turn bright red.

“Pretty.” He mumbles, more to himself than to Y/N, “My pretty girl.” Bringing his hands behind her back, he traces the number on the jersey as he has so many times before. It’s long enough to almost reach the girl’s knees, giving a false sense of modesty.

“I love it when you wear my jersey.”

“I like-“ Her breath hitches, feeling Seungmin’s hands wander further down, blunt nails scratching lightly against her lower back, “Like it when you wear them too.” Seungmin smiles as she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, ignoring the fluttering feeling he gets in his stomach from a simple compliment.

Seungmin sits up and moves off of the girl, resting his back against the headboard. Y/N follows him, sitting on his lap with her arms around his neck and his hands find their place on her waist. He can’t see it, but he can feel her dampening his boxers, making him moan and rest his head on the girl’s shoulder.

“Fuck baby.” He groans, and it’s almost funny to hear him swear since he doesn’t do so often. His right hand moves down her waist with a feather-like touch until he reaches the intimate spot between Y/N’s legs.

“Minnie-“

“You’re so hot.” Seungmin interrupts, and Y/N can’t tell if he is referring to the way she looks or the actual heat that’s coming from her skin. Probably both.

He’s gentle as he coats a finger in Y/N’s wetness, as he pushes it inside her hole and swallows every sound she makes. He adds another, scissoring his fingers to stretch her out.

“Seungmin.” She pants out, digging her nails into the man’s shoulders when he just grazed that spot inside her, “Min, love, please I’m-“

“Wait.” He adds another finger. moans when he feels her tightening around them,

“Just wait, baby. Just a second.” His fingers slips out of her and he grabs her hips to lift her up slightly. With Y/N’s aid and some awkward shifting, Seungmin manages to remove his last piece of clothing.

“Lay down.” He tells her, pushing her slightly. Once she’s on her back, Seungmin leans over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, putting it on before he moves back between her legs. With a steady hold on himself, he slowly pushes into Y/N. They moan in unison as he does.

“Tell me when you’re ready, pretty.” After a minute, Y/N taps his back.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t lie.” Nodding, Seungmin plants his forearms on each side of Y/N’s head and moves his hips slowly.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed as Seungmin starts to build a slow rhythm.

“Love you.” He whispers against her neck, kissing the skin there right after.

“Min, faster?” She asks even though she knows what his answer will probably be.

“No.” He pants softly, mouthing at her jaw before kissing her earlobe, “No just- let me go slow.” He grabs one of her hands, intertwining their fingers he repeats,

“Let’s go slow baby.” Y/N whimpers as he hits that special spot head on, but still smiles softly.

Sometimes Seungmin is the opposite of this, fast and almost desperate with his movements. Or he will act as if he has all the time in the world, going painstakingly slow just to be a tease.

Right now though, it’s him being sentimental. Trying to convey the love he has for his girl with every movement of his hips, touch of his fingers and graze of his lips.

Y/N feels a warmth cover the side of her face, thumb rubbing against her cheek.

“Look at me.” It’s easier said than done, but she manages to open her eyes to admire the sight above her. Seungmin’s hair sticks to his forehead, skin flushed and shining with a thin layer of sweat.

“Good girl.” He whispers and Y/N runs her fingers over Seungmin’s chest and stomach making him shiver slightly. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling the athlete closer so they’re chest to chest. It really only takes a few more minutes for Seungmin to start to lose his restraint. Despite his previous words, he starts to move faster, practically knocking the breath out of Y/N when he does.

“Seungmin I’m-“ she’s cut off as his mouth covers her’s. Both their lips must be swollen by now and it hurts when Seungmin softly bites her lower one. After pulling away, he shoves his face in Y/N’s neck, bringing one hand down to rub at her clit.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries while throwing her head back on the pillow, eyes rolling back, “Min!” She feels his hand grab hers, intertwining their fingers. He gasps her name and goes a little harder, squeezing her hand.

“Come, please.” He tells her, lifting his head from her neck, “So pretty when you come.” Seungmin slurs out his words and rubs her more harshly, making Y/N jerk her hips and dig her nails into Seungmin’s hand as she falls over the edge, vision going blurry.

With a few quick thrusts, Seungmin finishes with a quiet whimper. He allows himself to rest on top of Y/N, kissing her neck and up her jaw softly. Y/N runs a hand through his hair, before lifting his chin and bringing his lips to hers. After a few moments, having slightly caught his breath, Seungmin pulls out and throws out the condom before falling on his back beside his girl. The two pant whilst staring at the ceiling.

“How are you?” Seungmin asks Y/N, shifting and wrapping his arm around her waist, “Need anything? Want something?” She moves a little, resting her head on his chest and giving him a quick kiss there.

“I’m fine.” Her voice is almost covered because of the rain pelting the windows. She’s lying, she actually is pretty hungry, just unwilling to move. Seungmin runs a hand through her hair just like how she did to him earlier. As he expected, Y/N’s breaths start to steady, indicating that she is almost asleep. He pulls her a little closer to his chest, bending his neck down to peck her shoulder.

“Goodnight my love.” Seungmin whispers before closing his eyes, allowing the sound of rain hitting the window along with the warmth his girl is giving him to lull him to sleep.

“Night Minnie.”

136 notes · View notes

peachyteabuck · 1 year

Text

do you want this (like it wants you)

summary: kate likes to misbehave, but yelena has just the thing to keep her in line

commissioned by @caroldantops.

want to commission me? find my commission guidelines here

pairing: kate bishop x yelena belova x reader

words: 4018

content warnings: hair pulling, heavy bratting, intense D/s dynamics, orgasm control/denial, sybian use, dom! yelana, sub!kate, sub!reader, polyamory, pet play, breath play, vaginal oral sex, breathplay, aftercare is administered to both subs

Yelena just wants to rest.

She’s a busy woman, scaling the corporate ladder, a tough task given the complicated gender dynamics of the firm she’s been working at for the last year. It’s not as though she’s not highly qualified, but for whatever reason men with names like “Jason” or “Brett” or “Matt” spend most of their time questioning her qualifications or requesting reviews from someone “higher up” every time she presents, regardless of the fact everything is checked 3-4 times before being spoken about publicly.

This is why she’s been letting Kate get away with as much as she has today. Ever since she’d let the both of you out of your shared crate, all Kate had done was push the boundaries of Yelena’s strict rules. Touching herself? Check. Trying to touch you? Check. Talking out of turn? Check. You’d been on your usual good behavior—saying “please Daddy” and “thank you Daddy” and staying close to her—but you’d also been your usual, easily-influenced self. Kate had convinced you to let her rub over your weeping pussy while Yelena was busy making breakfast (pancakes, Kate’s favorite).

Her breaking point came when she’d separated the two of you, questioning why you were dripping through the simple cotton panties despite Yelena’s very strict direction not to. That’s when she learned that, not only had Kate swirled circles around your clit as you desperately attempted to muffle your moans, but she’d also said that Yelena would blame you instead of Kate for going against such an integral rule.

Kate knows she fucked up, too—another thing that adds another ten to the running total in Yelena’s mind. She can hear the threat in the way Yelena beckons her closer, the “Puppy, come” command a much lower tone than usual.

While not the most critical thinker, Kate’s real deviousness comes in how decisive she is. A car with no breaks, a scent hound caught on the trail of a fox, a baseball flying through the air at 97 miles-per-hour. None of these could compare with Kate, not when she spotted the leather swatch that was used for spankings haphazardly balanced on one of the arms of the couch (Yelena hasn’t had much time to do a lot of things lately, including clean).

Before she can do anything, the well-worn leather is in Kate’s mouth, the woman on all fours with her collar jingling as she pants.

“Let it go,” Yelena sighs more than commands.

Kate does not let it go. She does not even loosen her jaw just so she can tighten it up again once the other person trying to grab it believes they’ve won over her. She just holds it between her teeth, staring with narrowed eyes and a growl forming at the base of her throat.

You’re not sure what to do. Kate, a sharp contrast to your own fear of retribution, loves to misbehave. She likes to tease, to poke and prod and see what sort of volcanic eruption she can trigger with the least amount of effort. Yelena normally humors her at least a little before enacting strict punishment—getting out the whips and the darkened cage and the electric shock collar and the touching you while Kate remains tied up.

But Yelena doesn’t seem in the same mood as she does when she fingers you until you cry as Kate’s arms remain restrained behind her back, the rope connected to a hook in the wall to keep her in her place. Doesn’t have the same “try me” glimmer in her dark eyes, the same teasing smile.

This is different. Something—something you can’t quite describe—is different, and all you can do is watch.

As she decides what to do, Yelena thinks about the whiteboard Natasha had custom-made for her, the words “DAYS WITHOUT BRATTING” underneath a large “zero” she had written nearly two weeks prior. She knows she’s been working a lot, and (even though her office is within the house, and both of you have places to sit with her while she works) Yelena knows both of her subs had been feeling lonely.

But subs like Kate require consistency—give them an inch and they’ll find a mile. She’s not like you, nice and self-correcting. Once you found yourself grinding against a pillow while waiting for Yelena to clean you up after an intense squirting session, and almost cried from the shame. Kate? The definition of gluttonous in her lust, couldn’t stop even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t. Yelena is her guardrails, a yellow light, a tree for her to collide against.

“Give Daddy what you have in your mouth,” Yelena says through grit teeth. “Or I’ll have to reteach you what it means what someone loses their patience.”

You remain seated, curled up next to where Yelena props her feet up on the coffee table. A fluffy pink dog bed with Bunny embroidered on it, you were happy to spend the morning (or all day, really), resting your head against her legs while she occasionally pets your hair.

But no, the universe continues to punish you with the presence of one Kate Bishop.

A stare-down ensues in front of you, neither of them moving, but alert in case the other does. You half expect tumbleweeds to roll in the distance--as if the town isn’t big enough for the two of them.

But nothing happens, and the world stands still.

That is, until Kate makes a run for the bedroom, where there’s the only closet in the house that locks from the inside.

What Kate failed to consider, though, is that Yelena isn’t just fast: she’s strategic as well. Leashes with hook ends drilled in the wall are placed on each side of every room, useful for a litany of play. Now, though, they act as anchors Kate can’t easily avoid on all fours. She gets a few feet, if that, before Yelena’s got one hand on wrapped around the collar and the other on the leash’s clasp. One click later, Kate’s stuck in place, the short leash keeping her on her knees with her back straight.

Yelena’s fuming as she releases the leash, keeping her other hand occupied with the collar. It’s not loose, and she can tell Kate’s struggling to breath against the minimal give of the leather. Good, Yelena thinks. Maybe that’ll remind her how vulnerable she is.

“Let. Go.” She says through grit teeth once more, rage a fire in her eyes.

Kate’s got fire, too, but the kind that yearns for more gasoline, more newspaper, more anything to keep the blaze growing. Slowly, she moves her head from side to side, refusing to give up her bargaining chip. Does she know what she wants? Not exactly. But does she kind of, sort of, maybe have a plan on how to get it? Absolutely. And it involves the leather piece in her mouth.

“Fine,” Yelena cedes. Kate perks up at that, believing she’s won for now. “If you want it so bad, puppy, go ahead keep it in your mouth.”

What she doesn’t hear is Yelena mumbling under her breath, the blonde woman rubbing at her temples as she murmurs about how she’ll need something to bite down on in a minute.

“Stay right there, bunny,” she says, more audible now. She turns to Kate to say the same thing, then snorts.

Distorted by the leather, the stuck sub looks at you and smirks. Look at what I can do, her face says.

Yeah, yours replies, much drier. Sure.

Yelena returns a short time later carrying the sybian in her arms, silently setting it up. You can tell Kate’s as confused as you are—the sybian is usually a reward. Kate doesn’t let it show, though, still holding the leather in her mouth even as drool begins to drop from the corners of her lips. Once she sets it down as close to Kate as she can, she moves to you, her eyes full of concern.

“You okay, bunny?” she asks, wiping the tears from your eyes. You’re sweet—too sweet, sometimes—and she knows you require more emotional support regardless of what’s happening.

You lean into her hand, letting her caress your cheek. You’ve always been bad with chaos, with the unplanned. But Yelena’s there, always, to calm the storm.

“M’okay daddy,” you mumble. “I promise.”

This time her smile is genuine. “Good, bunny. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod, moving your head to the side to kiss at her palm.

When Yelena’s certain you don’t need anything for now, she turns her attention back to Kate.

“Go ahead and mount it, puppy.”

Delightfully unaware, Kate does as she’s told, moving ever-so-carefully with the constraints of the leash’s length. Time stands still until she finally has it between her legs, her huffs of determination the only sound in the room. She looks pleased with herself as she rests on the rough silicone pad, a small triumph given the circumstances.

Yelena, once again, remains silent. She remains silent as she stares, waiting for Kate to move (she doesn’t). She remains silent as she opens the coffee table, the top lifting to reveal a batch of meticulously organized toys. She remains silent as she regards her options. She remains silent as she grabs purple rope and walks back to Kate.

Yelena only speaks when she crouches down and begins to wrap the ropes.

“I didn’t want to do this, you know,” Yelena mutters as she ties the them so that they keep Kate’s legs folded. She tests the give of the rope with her fingers, moving to tie her wrists behind her back after Kate gives her a nod. “But if you want to test me, fine.”

Yelena turns to the side, grabbing the large pink wand vibrator that had been charging in the bedroom. As she moves, her tank top falls down her chest, the silver keys on a matching chain nearly visible. One engraved with a P, the other a B; the keys to each of your chastity cages remain an ever-present reminder of one of Yelena’s favorite punishments.

Be good, she said once as she edged you, dangling them back and forth in front of your hazy eyes. Or I’ll need to make sure these still fit in those cute little locks over your pussy.

“C’mere bunny,” she says, beckoning you over. “Come here to Daddy.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you get up, slotting yourself in the chasm that’s formed between them. You stand in front of Yelena, a little apprehensive but ultimately willing to trust her with whatever plan she has formed while she was waiting for Kate to stop misbehaving.

Yelena leaves soft kisses along your jugular, her hands finding your hips. They’re still sore from the night before, covered in light, spotty purple bruising. She holds you as though you’re fragile, breakable—not wanting to crush you with her skilled hands.

She pushes up your shirt a little to cradle your tummy. For some reason, it makes you feel exposed.

It’s not like you were wearing much anyway, your preferred at-home attire being a well-worn shirt from either of your girlfriends and a comfortable pair of cotton panties. The shirt today is a two-sizes-too-big t-shirt from a tech startup Yelena had the misfortune of working for (and caused her to swear off startups forever), the underwear a pink pair with a small bow on the front. They’re also joined by your day collar, a silver necklace with a bunny outline and “property of Daddy” engraved in the back.

“Eyes up here, puppy,” she says, teeth scraping now along the column of your throat. She knows how sensitive you are there, how easily you’ll melt into her palms with a few well-placed kisses. She also knows how much Kate needs attention—and hates when others get it when she doesn’t.

When Kate finally meets your eyes, you feel one of Yelena’s hands move and then hear a faint click—followed by the sound of vibrations and Kate’s muffled moans.

“Stand right here with Daddy,” she whispers in your ear, voice low enough Kate can’t hear. “I want to see what she does when she realizes which one of you is about to get off.”

Kate’s close to your pussy, close enough that you can feel her heated breath against your core. She’s panting in that desperate way you’ve always loved, the kind that makes her face flushed. Her lips are swollen and red from rubbing them against the leather, making them extra kissable.

You love her like this, fucked out before even being fucked. But you wished you got to see her like this outside of Yelena’s intense punishments.

That’s when you hear another click, another vibrational hum joining the symphony of lewdness. With one arm around your middle to keep you upright, the other grabs the vibrator and runs the head over your covered, unsuspecting clit.

“Oh!” You’re caught by surprise, wrapping your shirt in your fists as an alternative to grabbing something for balance. You’re able to lean on Yelena, your back pushed against her chest. But there’s nothing else to keep you upright. “Oh Daddy!”

“That feel good, bunny?” she coos at you. You can feel her smiling into your heated skin, sometimes leaving small nips as she revels in giving you pleasure.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as she presses harder, still making those large, slow circles meant to tease you. The nods you give her are quick, frenzied. All you want to do for her is find the nearest tall surface and bend yourself over it, pulling your soaked panties down your trembling thighs to give her free access to your dripping center. You want her to fuck you in the hard, fast, rough way you liked; the kind that left you struggling to walk the next day.

When you don’t reply immediately, she decreases the speed.

“No,” you whimper, grinding your hips down as best you can. “Daddy no, no, no please don’t please!”

“Then answer me, bunny,” she responds. “Don’t want you to end up like puppy here, do you?”

While a keen ear could hear it immediately, you’re too fucked out already to tell that the sybian Kate’s riding is on the setting that rotates through intensities. It never stays on the higher settings long enough for her to cum, but never gets low enough to give her any sort of relief.

“Yes, Daddy!” It’s hard to form words, your speech speeding up as the vibe rolls over your clit. “Yes, fuck Daddy it feels so good.”

“Good, bunny. I’m glad.”

You think she’s going to let you cum now, going to press the vibe as hard as she can into your aching center. But she doesn’t—she just continues her cycle, not telling you she’s timing them so you and Kate are on opposite settings. When one of you is moaning, the other is begging for more. Yelena revels in making the two of you play off of each other, forcing the two of you to intersect in ways she orchestrates.

“You look so pretty, bunny,” she coos, her eyes flitting between both of you. “Doesn’t our little bunny look pretty, baby?”

Kate tries to say something, but it dies as something muffled by the material still in her mouth. Still, she continues to try, the mumbled words sounding more and more desperate as she continues. You assume you look like a mirror of her—same fuzzy brain leading to the same pleading eyes and choked cries.

“Puppy, do you want something?” Yelena’s words are coated in the fake-caring tone that sends another wave of heat through your abdomen. A noise that sounds something close to a “yes” comes from Kate’s throat.

Yelena just tuts. “You need to tell me what you want, puppy.”

Kate whimpers, drool starting to pool at the sides of her mouth. Tears, too, are now flooding her cheeks.

Yelena’s smile is sinister, a light laugh bracketing her words. “Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? You lost that privilege when you decided to be a stupid brat and disobey a simple command. I trained you better than that, puppy.”

The desperate brunette couldn’t defend herself if she wanted to. Yelena’s always been a domme with high standards, standards she’s always communicated clearly and effectively. Kate has just…always liked to push buttons, the envelope, boundaries. Anything she thought she could defy, she would.

But Yelena still loved her, always providing the punishments appropriate. There was never a challenge she couldn’t meet, and Kate loved her in return.

“Are you willing to drop it now?”

Kate blinks at her once, twice. Then nods.

Defeat, Yelena thinks, always tastes just as good as she predicts.

“Then drop it.”

For the first time that day, Kate does what she is told without a fight. She doesn’t realize how sore her jaw is until she’s finally able to move it around, the muscles resisting the stretch.

“Do you want to come now?”

Kate nods, the words a little garbled because of her jaw. “Yes, please Daddy.”

Yelena doesn’t respond to her, instead turning to you.

“Go ahead and cum, bunny. I’ll hold you, don’t worry.”

Her permission is all you need, crying out as the avalanche of gratification floods your veins. The white-hot euphoria burns your fingertips, Yelena’s strength able to keep you from falling on your face. She turns the vibe down as your orgasm succeeds, slowly pulling you from the euphoric edge.

“Such a good girl for me,” she says, holding you to her as you pant. “Such a good little pet for Daddy.”

When your breathing finally evens out, she slowly lowers you to the ground. She’s wearing the same sweatpants she was last night, the soft fabric a welcome pillow as you lean against her. They smell like her, too, like the cologne she wears even though she works from home and the honey shampoo she likes. You drink in the comfort of being near her, of being enveloped by her.

Yelena pets your hair as she speaks once more. “I want you to cum while eating our perfect little bunny out,” she says. “Can you do that? Or do you want to go to bed without an orgasm?”

“I-“ you watch as Kate grinds against the toy, her pussy so slick you can see her wetness seeping over the silicone bit of the sybian. It catches the light, and your fried brain is mesmerized by the sight. “Yes, Daddy. Please let me eat our Bunny’s pussy while I cum.”

“Good girl.”

Yelena picks you up and moves you into position, pushing your shirt up and your panties down. You don’t have to think or do anything but stand there, leaning on her for balance as Kate licks up your weeping slit.

The angle is awkward for both of you. Every time Kate presses herself to you, she has to hold her breath—which can never hold long enough for you to get anywhere close to your peak. Yelena makes a mental note to try this again if she ever wanted to edge you, especially since Kate loves a little breathplay now and then.

Despite all of this, though, it’s easy, for both of you to lose yourself to the pleasure, and so you do. You don’t think about the strain in your knees, or how dry your mouth feels. Kate doesn’t think about how sore she’s going to be tomorrow from her muscles tensing so often, or the fact her cunt aches in that way Yelena’s only been able to draw out of her. All you can think about is the feeling of Kate’s tongue lapping at your soaked folds; all Kate can think about is how much she loves drawing those little gasps out of you she loves so much.

“Such perfect pets,” Yelena murmurs. One hand is threaded through Kate’s hair, the other reaching around your waist to palm at your ass. “So good to each other...”

She remembers, vividly, when the two of you couldn’t seem to stop hating each other. There were fights and so much bickering that drove Yelena insane. In the end, an extra extra large crate; an extra, extra short leash attached to both of your collars; and a few overstimulation sessions got you two to get along quite well.

It’s good—so good—and all your fucked-out brain can do is babble nonsensically. Her movements are jerky and mistimed, but with how sensitive you are, it really doesn’t matter.

Kate finally cums a few minutes later, moaning lowly into your cunt. Her whole body shakes with each breath, her chest red hot from exertion. Ecstasy flows between the two of you, settling on your skin like glitter.

“You okay?”

Both of you nod. Kate’s face is covered in your wetness, the same wetness that drenches your thighs.

Yelena watches you both for a second the same way hunters monitor their kill even after they’ve hit the ground. There’s something special about knowing she’s the one who did this—who set the scene where both of you finished so worn out that neither of you could do anything else but fall to the floor in exhaustion.

But she’s a sadist, not a monster, and so once she’s had her moment of fun, she carries you to the couch before untying Kate. The ropes have made beautiful indents in her pale skin, and Yelena can’t wait to trace them once all three of you are cuddled up in bed. Yelena carries Kate so you two can lay together as she checks the minifridge in the bedroom, making sure there are enough water bottles and light snacks to last you until you can eat something more substantial. After making sure the covers are in the right order (you’re ridiculously picky), and the heated blanket is on its lowest setting (Kate always gets cold, but hates being too hot), she returns to find the both of you cuddled into each other like newborn puppies.

Fuck, she thinks. She always feels bad moving either of you once you’re snuggled up and comfortable, let alone when you’re all cozy together.

But Yelena also knows the couch definitely isn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’re already going to be sore tomorrow, and there are no blankets, and there isn’t any room for her in the mix of all of this. So, partially selflessly, partially completely selfishly, she slowly detangles the two of you. It’s a mess of limbs reminiscence of a tangled pair of earbuds, but somehow she manages to free you from each other and carry you up to bed one by one (Yelena’s strong, but she’s definitely not strong enough to carry both of you at once, unfortunately). You’re on the right side of the California King with Kate on the left, leaving a big enough space that you can’t find the other one and tangle back up again. Once both of you has consumed a full water bottle’s worth of water and are wearing clean shirts to sleep in, Yelena finally crawls under the covers to join the both of you.

“I love you both,” she says as each of you cuddles into her chest. You prefer resting your head in the crook of her neck, while Kate prefers to be face first into her chest. Even half asleep, Kate’s always a little obsessed with Yelena’s tits. “Even when you act like spoiled little princesses.”

And she does, truly. She loves Kate even when she bites her out of nowhere, and she loves you even when you go along with Kate’s ridiculous schemes. She loves Kate even when she refuses to just ask for what she wants, and she loves you when you beg for whatever Yelena’s willing to give you. She even loves you when you snore ever so lightly right into your ear, the sound lulling her into a deep sleep.

#yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x yelena belova x reader #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

330 notes · View notes

cairavende · 4 months

Text

Worm Arc 15 interludes thoughts

Carol interlude:

Holy shit you really were just a fucking TERRIBLE mother!

Like I get it, you had lots of horrible childhood trauma. And you didn't want to adopt Amy and let yourself get bullied into it by your sister. But that doesn't give you an excuse for how you treated both your kids.

Got to see another trigger event!! Fuck yes. Give me more. I want to see more details on those higher dimensional beings.

Fucking hell seeing Marquis's powers in play is pretty crazy. Dangerous boy.

Carol was just going to full blown stab right through that closet door without even looking inside! She almost killed a child! God damn.

“No. He’s just my daddy. Reads me bedtime stories, makes me dinner, and tells me jokes. I love him more than anything else in the world. You can’t take him away from me. You can’t!” Fucking ooof that's a line.

No seriously though this can't be the first time there has been a young child of a cape that needed to be adopted because their parent was arrested or killed. Is there really no system in place for this? Cause Amy should not be going with Carol.

Just the way through most of the present sections of the interlude that Carol thinks about her daughter and Amy. Not her daughters. And this was before she knew anything about what Amy had done. Terrible mother.

HOLY SHIT AMY OH MY GOD YOU MADE IT EVEN WORSE! And I thought flesh coffin Victoria was bad! FUCK!

Vic is going to need lots of therapy.

Fucking Carol basically deciding Amy is her daughter now only because she doesn't want to think about Victoria being her daughter. Damn. Bad mother.

And Amy is in the birdcage (Hellfire playing in my head the entire damn time I'm reading this part). I'd be rather terrified to see what she becomes except no one ever gets out of the birdcage so obviously there is no worries. She is never going to be an issues. (I shouldn't need the /s but just to be safe.)

Brian interlude:

Not much to say here, most of my thoughts on this relationship was said in my last post.

I do always love seeing Taylor from the PoV of someone else. Just shows how fucking badass she is. And kinda terrifying.

"She conveyed an eerie kind of confidence that he knew she didn’t have at her core." This is just incorrect bud. When she isn't thinking about how she is portraying herself she conveys the confidence she does have at her core. The stuff she hides from herself.

Alexandria interlude:

DATES! DATA! LORE! AHHHHHHH!!!!

Date of first Endbringer attack!!!!! Strong estimation of the number of capes in August 1986! Knowledge that Cauldron was working in 1986! Their "success" rate at the time that I can compare to now! (Success in quotes cause I don't personally think tentacles is a failure. I want to meet tentacle lady.)

Obviously I'm not a big fan of any of the Cauldron people on the surface. But I think I like Contessa within those boundaries. I technically have no idea what she can do but I'm almost positive she is some type of precog. And I kind of ship her and Alexandria.

Behemoth is fucking scary. Just light people on fire from the inside, shoot lightning. Full energy manipulation. Damn.

Alexandria is the head of the PRT! Damn! (I assume at least.)

I want to know more about the Terminus project!

And Coil is a product of Cauldron! But he doesn't know it (supposedly). Damn. They list him as an alternate to the Protectorate which is very interesting. I'm super curious what Cauldron's goal with the Protectorate was and how Coil can do the same.

Fucking Alexandria just going and grabbing people to be experimented on and it's "ok" cause they were dying. Holy shit! She even manages to make the comparison to her chemo treatment and still does it! Fuck lady. You can justify anything.

Triumph interlude:

See? Triumph is fine! So Skitter didn't do anything wrong.

Triumph is Cauldron created too. Cause he was only good enough at baseball for the minor league but not the majors. God damn fucking privileged ass rich white boy. And he describes it as a traumatic thing! God. At least later he does kinda call out that he got stuff from having a rich dad with connections.

Assault seems to be doing great! Sure was a good idea to let him join the Protectorate just cause he wanted to be a creep to this one girl. Turns out when that girl is gone he doesn't have any motivations to be a "good guy". Great decision Legend.

Robot daughter! Good to see you again! And you built yourself a bio body! Or a head at least. Still, fun!

AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Defiant.

Definitely isn't Polearm McGee! Nope! Absolutely a different person. That also likes really long pointy sticks.

I am glad Frank Miller's Armsmaster was able to remove the restrictions on robot daughters code. She deserves freedom. Pretty much served his purpose now and she basically just keeps him around to humor him. "Oh yes I need Defiant to help me, even though I built his suit and could just control it directly myself."

Seven Dragon suits in Brockton Bay huh? I'm sure that won't result in anything next arc. What with Dragon specifically on the lookout for Taylor and Taylor planning on going with her dad to the town hall on the election.

Triumph gives in to the weight of not speaking up about Defiant being Armsmaster but then he gets mad at Prism for not speaking up! My dude! You didn't speak up, you can't be mad at her for the same thing!

Fucking LOVED the ending of this interlude, and thus this arc, though. Absolutely perfect. Just with the inherent comparison of Defiant to Mannequin, especially considering Colin called Mannequin a "monster" in his interlude and said "I'm nothing like you!" And then Triumph thinking how he could see the reason for every step Colin made and could see himself justifying each one. And the previous chapter had Taylor dealing with how far she had let herself go. All that and then ending this chapter with Triumph staring at the bodies of Crawler and Mannequin (finally confirmed dead) and the line "Maybe it was to find some clue, some sign he could watch out for, that would let him identify the monsters from the men."

Just fucking. So good. I think it's my favorite quotable arc ending so far. I might like Arc 11's ending more (it's close) but not in quotable way. "All lies" at the end of Arc 14 is a close second, but I like this one more.

#Worm #Worm Web Serial #Parahumans #Cairavende reads Worm #Carol Dallon #Creepy Crawlies #Alexandria #Cauldron #Triumph #Dragon #Frank Miller's Armsmaster #For real though I kinda want to write up an essay on the “identify monsters from the men” bit. There is just so many layers of stuff!#At a minimum it goes all the way back to 3.6 when Tattletale is talking about her “cops vs robbers” analogy.#And she says “And then there's the monsters.” Referencing SH9 and Nilbog (want to know more about) and Skitter brings up the Endbringers.#And the whole constant theme of the heroes not necessarily being the “good guys” and labels mattering more than actions.#And just the idea that there is 3 things. Heroes. Villains. And Monsters.#Monster in many ways being just as made up of a label as hero or villain but it lets people justify their actions better.#Just. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#Worm is good.#Girlfriend thank you tag! Thanks for pestering me (affectionately) to read Worm.#My life (and the life of everyone who likes reading my thoughts on it) is better for it! Love you!!!

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

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first off i just wanna say im loving everything youve written for ppls requests! how do u feel abt jock el? i feel like she maybe wouldnt understand sports at first and might struggle w the rules and fair play, but ends up really loving physical activity that has nothing to do w her powers, just her own hard work and sweat and skills she’s honed through practice all by herself, and the experience of being on a team. i can totally imagine her getting super competitive too, and being a super aggressive player in literally every sport. also, hopper is definitely the parent who yells at the referee and coaches during his kids games.

also i hope your day is going well whenever you see this!

Okay this was cuuuuuute. I really love the idea of El fitting in so well with sports people, but still never leaving her little group of nerds and badasses. I also love her just naturally being so good at every sport she tries because she is deeply in touch with what her body is capable of because of her powers, but never once using them. I maybe threw Wayne in a bit more than anyone would expect because I will always find a reason to do that. Also, this is a weird coincidence, but the Olympic swim trials for 2024 will take place in Indianapolis.- Mickala ❤️

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

When things settle down, El goes back to school with everyone.

It’s hard at first. She never really fit in before, and she definitely doesn’t fit in now that people have seen official government security pretty much standing guard over her.

Even after they left, people still whispered when she ran errands with Joyce or Hop and went out with the rest of the party.

But she was determined to have as normal a life as she could, and that meant going to school.

High school here was better, even with the weird looks and silent bullies.

She had her friends.

She also had gym.

In California, she’d hated gym. She didn’t like getting dressed in front of everyone so she always got in trouble for taking too long. The girls in her class usually found ways to be lazy and she didn’t want to make herself more of an outcast, so she just didn’t participate most of the time.

But here, Lucas was in her gym class. So was Will, though he was a little hopeless when it came to anything beyond walking the mile.

Max was excused from gym for the rest of high school if she wanted.

Hard to argue with a letter from the literal President.

Mike and Dustin had a different period, but that was fine since they hated gym.

El didn’t hesitate to participate here.

She ran the fastest mile, always had the most push ups and pull ups, won every tetherball game. Her team always won volleyball and softball. She won every category in swimming.

The only sport she didn’t play was basketball, much to Steve’s disappointment and Lucas’ secret delight.

The coach recruited her for every sport he could, insisted that she could be the type of player that brings them championship wins.

Hopper was ecstatic, of course, especially when he saw how much El loved it.

She knew better than to use any powers, especially in competitions, but she was so naturally good, it didn’t even cross her mind that she could.

She was physically stronger than most other girls her age, and had already had so much done to her body that she could easily push through a little exhaustion during the 500 meter butterfly race or playing the entire soccer game with only one break.

She watched baseball games with Wayne and Hopper, asked if she could play.

Hopper had her signed up for softball the next day.

She saw a beach volleyball match during the Olympics and asked to play.

Hopper took her to tryouts for the school team as soon as he possibly could.

She made the swim team, made captain within a month. Steve was ecstatic, especially when she won against him every time they did a practice race. Eddie and Will were judges, and El was pretty sure it was just to see Steve shirtless, but she didn’t really mind.

She was having fun.

She was using her natural abilities to get out some of her aggression in a safe way according to Dustin.

Everyone came to her games and meets, but no one was as loud as her dad.

He was on his feet more than he was in his seat, usually pacing and yelling at refs and judges from the stands. Most people didn’t seem to care, or at least didn’t want to say anything to the reinstated police chief.

Steve was always there to remind him that El was learning, and that that was actually a penalty or that the judge was being fair on her tie with another girl in the butterfly.

Even as good as she was at just about every sport she tried, she struggled with some rules. Once they were explained in a way she understood, she was careful, but it cost her volleyball team a win in the process.

Steve helped her understand what he could, or took her to the library to look things up if he didn’t know. Wayne helped her understand the differences between softball and baseball while Eddie tried to take notes in the corner.

Actual notes.

“It’s so I know if she does good!” He explained when Wayne raised his brow at him showing interest in a sport.

To his credit, he immediately lost the notes he took and still had to ask Steve a bunch of questions at her next game.

She earned the MVP awards for every sport she played, gaining more positive attention than she’d expected. It was welcome, especially since it made a lot of people forget about the negative attention surrounding her the last few years.

Will designed shirts for everyone for her games and had Eddie get them printed at the same place he got the Hellfire Club ones made. They all wore them happily, too proud of her to not show all their support.

——————

Her senior year was when it hit that she had decisions to make.

She’d done fine in school; not straight A’s but never failed a class.

Sports are where she excelled.

But senior year was hard, and schedules were difficult enough without having to balance two sports at once immediately followed by two more.

The coaches did their best to offer accommodations since she was their star, but she didn’t like that. She didn’t want to be treated as “other.” That wasn’t why she did this.

So she dropped softball, much to Wayne’s heartbreak. He still smiled at her and said he was proud of everything she’d accomplished and hoped she’d still find time to come throw the ball with him.

She dropped volleyball in the spring, used the excuse that she needed to focus on swimming because she had scouts interested in giving her scholarships and the Olympic committee showed interest in recruiting her for Team USA.

Steve let her use his pool for extra practice, and usually joined her on the weekends for a morning swim, even on the still too cold mornings in February and March.

She held the Hawkins High and Indiana state records in most categories, and Midwest and National records in a few of those.

The olympic committee invited her to trials, and of course she’d enlisted Steve as her personal coach.

She trained for hours every day, Steve pushed her just enough using his new knowledge of the requirements she would have to meet to make the team and her competition.

She didn’t want everyone there, only Steve and Hopper.

She was worried having them there would put too much pressure on her and now wasn’t the time to perform poorly.

The morning of the trials, Steve let her cuddle up to his side on the couch.

“You’re ready.”

“That is not a question.”

“No, because I’m not asking. I know you’re ready,” he smiled when she rolled her eyes.

“I am ready.”

She was.

She outdid herself, actually. She ended up breaking her own record in her first event, and tied her own record in the second event.

She not only made the team, but was named captain almost immediately, the rest of her teammates incredibly excited to be on her team.

Hawkins had a parade for her, Hawkins High had a pep rally, the family had a huge party for her.

She still had to graduate high school, still competed on the high school swim team, even found time to be a lifeguard at the city pool every Friday and Saturday afternoon.

El had found her place.

—------------------------------

When USA won gold in every event for swimming, no one was surprised.

It’s hard to beat a team led by El.

She accepted a full ride scholarship to Purdue University, where she broke all their school records and got her degree in Physical Therapy so that she could work with athletes.

She competed in the Olympics again, winning gold in four events, silver in one.

But she always had her family there. They came from all over the country to watch, to support, wearing the same shirts that Will made years ago.

#stranger things #ficlet #anon request #el hopper #the party #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #jim hopper #jock el #i may have to write jock el into more stories actually

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writerownstory · 2 months

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I’m bad with titles and just wanted to post this finally! Happy Juke Jeudi! 🥳

I really had this just sitting in my Notes app 🤧 There was more to it, but if I kept going I don’t think I’d ever finish…

part two to this.

It starts with secret meetings in the castle gardens after dark, with Rose keeping Ray busy while Julie slips out for an “evening walk” on her own as long as she stays within the palace’s boundaries.

Then it’s meetings in town where Julie dresses like the next plain-clothed young woman with a red baseball cap and dark sunglasses obscuring her features as Luke whisks her into the little coffee shop that he works at with Reggie who also keeps an eye out for the royal security or anyone who might get Julie in trouble.

It can only happen while Rose runs her daily errands and the guards are occupied. Ray thinks Julie is with her mother, and neither Molina woman lets him know any different. Rose knows Luke will keep Julie safe and she trusts Julie not to do anything that would put herself in harm’s way.

And it’s perfect until it’s not.

Julie and Rose are out one night to attend a music charity gala—naturally they both are excited to go and Luke gets a selfie of the two of them from Julie just before they head out. It’s the last time he talks to her for the night, until he’s awoken out of his sleep by his phone buzzing incessantly.

The stormy weather made for a turbulent trip and there is a terrible car accident from which the queen doesn’t survive. The Molina family, along with most of the country but specifically the capital city, is absolutely devastated. Queen Rose brought so much life and love into the lives of everyone around her. She ruled the Costa de Estrella with a firm yet caring hand, and her absence is felt throughout the country.

Julie takes it the worst, walking away from the crash with only a few scratches and a broken wrist, but her heart is shattered into a billion painful pieces. She disappears from the public eye, and though Luke had every intention of coming to see her, he hasn’t been able to sneak inside the palace since it happened.

Her physical injuries heal with time, but Julie has felt like she’s been underwater ever since that night. Most nights she calls Luke because she can’t sleep, and she falls asleep listening to him talk or sing or play guitar, even though they both wish they could be together. Her father and Parliament are strangely understanding, allowing her time off her usual duties to grieve.

Until a month later, and the Council has already planned a ball for her to host–her father’s idea–as part of her search for a suitable partner. Julie is immediately against the idea and when she confronts Ray, they have their worst argument yet and she hasn’t spoken to him since.

Julie hasn’t spoken much to anyone besides Carlos and Luke if the few texts they manage to exchange count. (Ever since they announced the ball, the Council has been keeping Julie extra busy with preparations so she hasn’t had much of a chance to breathe, much less check her phone.)

The night of the ball, the door to her bedroom slams open, startling her in her seat in front of her vanity. “Geeze, Flynn!”

Oh, and she talks to Flynn. But Flynn won’t hear of anything differently.

Flynn Taylor is one of Julie’s ladies in waiting but they both have always made faces at that title because Flynn has always been much more than that to Julie. Though Flynn works as her assistant, Julie knows that Flynn has her back more than anyone.

“Sorry, you know I’ve got to make a grand entrance,” Flynn apologized as she rushes over to where Julie is sitting. “But I’ve got very important updates.” She brings her arm out from around her back, placing an elegant white lace mask over Julie’s eyes.

“A mask?”

“Yes, my dear princess Julienna, because I have convinced Victoria to make tonight’s ball a masquerade.” Flynn’s smile as she meets Julie’s gaze in the mirror tells her Flynn is not only excited but also incredibly pleased with herself, but Julie is still confused.

“But… why?” Julie removes the mask from her face to turn and look at her best friend.

“Just trust me on this one, J. I promise it’s worth it. And it matches your absolutely stunning gown.”

“Except I don’t want to look stunning,” Julie says, turning away from the mirror to face her friend. “This whole ball is to look for a partner, Flynn. But I have Luke.” She knows she sounds whiny and maybe ungrateful, but the idea of looking for a partner that her father and the Council deems suitable feels ridiculous, not to mention wrong. There’s no reason to look for someone else when her heart already belongs to Luke who would do just about anything to protect it and her.

Flynn’s smile turns into a sympathetic look before she gives her a small grin. “I promise, it’s all going to work out.” She squeezes her shoulders before offering to help Julie finish getting ready.

By the time Flynn leads her to the ballroom doors to make her grand entrance, anger and sadness are warring within Julie, making her incredibly grumpy and on edge.

This shouldn’t be happening.

Her mother should be here and this shouldn’t be happening. Though if Rose was still here, this would’ve never made it past a mere mention among the Council.

And the thought makes her stomach drop just as the doors open.

Julie plasters on a fake smile as she makes her way over to where her father and Carlos are waiting. Her father says a few words, thanking everyone for coming and plenty of other things Julie doesn’t really hear. She accepts dances from a few different men, and it isn’t so bad, but all she can think about is how she’d rather be dancing with Luke.

She has to hand it to Flynn though, the masks do add an air of mystery and elegance to the night, though she’s not entirely sure how she’s supposed to tell who exactly she dances with.

Julie finally catches a break between dances when a man walks up to her in a deep, navy blue suit and a matching black mask.

He bows, as is customary when someone below nobility approaches Julie. When he straightens up he takes her hand and brings it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles.

Her immediate response is to give this man a piece of her mind, until he leans toward her, his whisper clear as day over the noise of the rest of the party, “May I have this dance, Princess?”

Julie’s eyes widen as she meets the eyes of the masked stranger in front of her. “Luke?”

Despite the mask covering the top half of his face, Julie would recognize the bright, perfect smile on his face anywhere. “It’s me, boss,” he confirms as she reaches up to cradle both sides of his face.

“How are you here?” she whispers with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Flynn convinced Victoria to make the ball a masquerade. Your dad can’t kick me out if he doesn’t know its me.”

Julie takes a moment to take Luke in. Between the tux, the mask, and…his hair was done??? “Your hair,” she giggles, reaching up to brush her fingers over it.

“Flynn said it would help with the nobody recognizing me thing,” Luke says with a sheepish grin. She definitely owes Flynn for this.

A watery smile spreads across her face. “I missed you so much.” She hadn’t realized until he’s standing right in front of her just how much.

“I missed you too, Jules. You have no idea how much.” He reaches up to wipe away a few tears she hadn’t realized were falling, and ends up cradling her face like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

Like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

And suddenly none of it matters: the ball, her deteriorating relationship with her father, or looking for a partner. As long as she has Luke by her side, they’ll figure it out somehow.

#will I ever write another part???? who knows #also I can’t decide if Luke is just a normal citizen or if he is just nobility below Julie and her family but alas #this is what we’ve come up with #juke fic #my writing #happy juke jeudi!#jatp #julie and the phantoms

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mollymauk-teafleak · 11 months

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how could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily

Maverick is left deeply depressed after Bradley finds out he pulled his papers and Ice is left with no idea what to do. Until Maverick goes out for a run in the storm and finds the first step out of the darkness in a storm drain.

Huge thanks to @hangsters who constantly gives the best ideas and betas all of my fics and is the best ever ever ever

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you liked this!

-------

It was still raining.

It had been raining all day, Tom could hear it drumming on his office windows.

He had just enough time to think I hope Bradley doesn’t have a baseball game today before the grief closed tight around his chest, slipping in through that door left ajar in his mind to sharply remind him that it didn’t matter. Bradley wasn’t here. Bradley was gone.

Tom pushed the glasses he was still getting used to up his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose like that was going to do anything. The thought was still a physical pain, a stab right to the nerve endings. Tom had never been someone who cried easily, he’d taken enough blows in his life to be the one who promised other people it would be okay, the arms that other people ran into. That had always been his job.

But just that one thought, the realization that Bradley didn’t care whether it was raining or not because he wasn’t going to be walking through the door, curls sticking up from being under his baseball cap, drinking one of those sodas he loved that turned his tongue blue, asking what's for dinner. He wasn’t going to be in the backyard, throwing a ball at the back of the house and catching it, despite Tom constantly joking that if he broke the kitchen window again, he’d trade him in for another cat. When Tom got up in the night, unable to sleep and feeling that he might scream if he had to hold still a second longer, there would be no soft snores coming from behind Bradley’s door, he’d never get that sense of peace and comfort that everyone he loved was safe and accounted for.

Tom felt his ragged breaths condensing into tears at the back of his throat. He almost let them fall, almost allowed himself a moment’s selfishness but he couldn’t. There were footsteps coming down the hall towards his office.

“Papa?” the door pushed back, he’d had it ajar anyway but Sofia had never needed to knock.

Fixing a smile on his face, resting his hands on his keyboard like he’d been actually working, Tom managed a passable impression of Admiral ‘Iceman’ Kazansky for his daughter, “Right here, bobbin. Just getting some work done.”

Sofia hovered anxiously in the doorway, her jacket on and her backpack slung over one shoulder. Looking at her was almost enough to break his heart all over again, every day she seemed to get a little older, a little more grown, he saw more of the young woman she was turning into. She’d never be tall- thanks to Maverick- but she had that gangly, wiriness all teenagers did, like a young colt. Especially when she was drowning in a patterned shirt Tom remembered wearing himself through the eighties. But none of that was what broke his heart, he’d accepted a long time ago that his daughter was always going to grow up faster than he was ready for.

It was the expression on her face. No high schooler should have had to look so terrified.

“Daddy still isn’t back,” Sofia fidgeted, playing with the straps of her backpack, “I need to go, I’m gonna be late but…he isn’t back.”

Tom had to work to keep his reassuring smile in place. Of course Sofia was giving voice to the same fears currently pacing behind his ribcage, her fingers were twitching and foot was tapping the same way his wanted to. He wanted to take her in his arms and hug tightly, cry with her, refuse to let her out of his sight in case he lost her too.

But she’d asked him yesterday, in a soft, small voice like she was afraid someone would overhear, if she could go to the movies with her friends today. She’d held herself so tightly like she was expecting something to fall from the sky and strike her just for asking, like she wasn’t allowed to put down the grief they were all collectively carrying around, even for one Saturday afternoon. Tom wouldn’t let her feel like that.

So he stood, crossed the room and put his hands on her thin shoulders, “He’ll catch you when you get home, bobbin, don’t worry about it. Everything’s fine, you have fun.”

The guilt in her eyes, those eyes that had started off looking so much like Maverick’s but had turned into Tom’s somewhere along the way, it lessened. Like she only believed him in the way young children did when their parents told them it was so, despite evidence to the contrary.

“Okay,” she nodded, “Just…just tell daddy I waited for him?”

“I will,” Tom promised, already moving into the tight hug she gave him, letting her bury her face against his shirt, “I’ll keep an eye on him, we’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay…sure you don’t want me to drive you, it’s pouring down out there?”

Sofia shook her head quickly, too quickly to not punch a hole in her casual tone, “Nah, I like getting the bus. I got my umbrella.” You need to stay here in case he comes back, he can’t be alone.

All Tom could do was hug her tighter. Like that would fix anything.

He waved her off from the front porch, chest tightening every time she glanced back at the house until the curve of the street took her out of sight. Still checking, still hoping. Tom had to wonder who it was she wanted to see, Bradley or Maverick.

He couldn’t bear to go back to those reports, they were just another reminder of everything that was falling by the wayside as he tried to keep his family together with a white knuckled grip. His feet took him away from his office to the kitchen, to a bowl of pierogi dough that had been chilling in the fridge for way too long, one he’d started around 2am the night before but hadn’t gotten to finish because he’d heard Maverick screaming with another nightmare. But now he took it, scattering the bench with flour and got to rolling with smooth, practiced motions.

He was failing as an uncle, as a father. He was failing as a husband. He was failing as a rear admiral. But he could at least do this, he could make sure there was food for them, food Maverick didn’t have the stomach to eat, that Sofia would thank him for, a portion that would sit untouched because it still hadn’t sunk in that he didn’t need to feed Bradley. But it would be there and right now, it was the best Tom could do.

It was an understatement to say things were bad. But there were no words to put to this kind of grief, one that wasn’t supposed to exist because his family wasn’t supposed to exist. Everything that had ever threatened them was supposed to be external, Maverick being sent halfway across the world on a vengeful deployment, getting kicked out of the Navy entirely if anyone decided to pry into their relationship, having Bradley and Sofia taken from them.

The fact that what finally pulled them apart had come from inside was a sour taste in Tom’s tongue.

He’d felt betrayed, hurt, for a flash of an instant he’d been as angry as Bradley when Maverick had confessed. He’d had no right to pull his papers, to wreck the future the kid wanted without so much as a word, that was never how they’d done things. Of course he didn’t want Bradley in the air, he didn’t want Sofia in the air but part of being a parent was swallowing that, smiling and wishing them well while the fear shredded him inside. The fact that Maverick broke rank, acted so selfishly, Tom couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t been furious.

They’d all felt it. There had been a moment, after Bradley had come home with one foot in a panic attack, holding his rejection letter, after Maverick had confessed what he’d done in a small voice that had tried so hard to sound like he’d done the right thing. Bradley had raged at him, his face looking far too young for that kind of anger, that kind of hate. Tom had got between them just in time, needing all his strength to keep them apart, to push Bradley back out of the magnetic pull of his own fury and give him a chance to leave. And there had been a moment. A moment where Maverick, sprawled against the kitchen counter, and Sofia, sobbing helplessly in the corner, and even Tom himself had waited to see what he’d do. If he’d stay or if he’d go after Bradley.

And Tom had stayed. He’d slept on the couch a few nights, they’d taken things slowly. At first his texts to Bradley had gone unanswered but then he’d called him, they’d talked, they’d cried down the phone, he’d sent him money so he could get set up at the University of Virginia, the one he chose out of his handful of last minute acceptances just to be as far away as possible. Bradley let him help, that was all Tom was going to ask of him, the kid needed space, he needed to be treated like an adult.

Tom smiled bitterly at the irony of it. He’d stayed, he’d let Bradley go to the other side of the country and take half of Tom’s heart with him.

But Maverick was the one he was losing.

It was like they were trapped in the same depressing, gritted-teeth dance routine every day, like there were white dotted lines and footprints across the floor of their house. Maverick rarely left their bed but somehow also rarely slept, not that Tom could blame him. These days, sleeping for him meant nothing but nightmares. It meant five minutes of quiet, Tom lying beside him like a guard dog, tense and hopeful, but the screaming always started, Maverick begging for someone to come back, to not leave him. Sometimes it was Bradley, sometimes it was Goose. Sometimes it was even Tom himself.

He’d tried everything. He’d read books, he’d talked to professionals as candidly as he could while still being safe, he’d found and scoured enough articles on the Internet that he could probably go for a PhD in psychiatry if he ever got sick of being a rear admiral. Every new technique he found for dealing with loss, Tom told himself that would work, that would be the one that helped Maverick, the rope he’d toss down where he’d feel something tugging on the other end. And every one got them nowhere.

Tom thought they’d made some progress with the running. Maverick wouldn’t leave their bed to shower, to come down and eat dinner, he wouldn’t even leave for Sofia, no matter how many times she asked. He wouldn’t play board games with her, he wouldn’t watch their old horror movies together, he wouldn’t come sing to her when she couldn’t drift off after losing Bradley had broken her sleep into pieces. It was like he was afraid he’d hurt her too if he so much as looked at his daughter.

But he’d left the bed when Tom suggested he go for a run. And now that was all he did, if he wasn’t lying in their dark bedroom, nearly comatose, Maverick was running up and down the beach. Tom remembered feeling optimistic the first time he’d woken up with Maverick not actually lying beside him but tying his running shoes on the stairs. He’d felt like it was the first step towards things actually getting better.

Tom felt pretty stupid, thinking back on that now, standing in his kitchen and overworking dough until he could throw it at the wall and have it bounce back. Maverick didn’t run to clear his head, he didn’t run to try and process his grief or pull himself out of this spiral. He ran out of fear. He ran like he could get away from everything he’d done, until Tom had to drive to get him and beg him to come back, until his feet were torn up by blisters.

Until the sky was opening and more rain than San Francisco had seen in the last year was falling all at once but Maverick was still not coming home.

Tom felt that headache still pressing against his temples, like the dark, cloudy thoughts in there were trying to force their way out. Thoughts that took fierce shapes and whispered in poisonous voices. You’re not doing enough. Everything’s falling apart, you’re losing them. They’re all hurting and you can’t save them. You were an idiot to think you could have this life.

Tom brought his fist down on the counter, sending flour into the air, just for something to drown them out. But the rain kept drumming on the windows, a sound that got under the skin of him and stayed there, like it took over his own heartbeat. Tom sucked in a breath, fuck it, he turned and went for his keys. He needed to find Maverick.

He was halfway down the hall, his mind set in concrete, until the only thing that could have stopped him tumbled through the door and nearly slammed into him. Maverick himself, soaked to the skin, panting like he’d sprinted the whole way home.

“I need your help,” he gasped, meeting Tom’s eye unflinchingly for the first time in months.

That had been all Tom wanted to hear from his wingman lately, but now he’d said it, all he had in response was a blank look, “Huh?”

The dullness was gone from Maverick’s eyes, they were going like fireworks, “I was running down to the beach, I’d come up once but I went back again…anyway, I was running past that giant storm drain at the end of the avenue and I heard something? Sounded like someone crying so got down and…and look…”

He shifted, reaching into the pocket of his sweatshirt, probably the only part of him that was still dry. What he brought out was hard to understand at first, it looked just like a sodden piece of fabric, something that had definitely been fished out of a storm drain. But then it began to move, two milky eyes opening in that mass of matted, mud slick fur, a small mouth panting raggedly. A heart wrenching noise came out of it, a sound that yanked right on the instincts Tom had grown when he became a father, the kind of sound that had him stumbling to his feet in the middle of the night before he was really awake despite what the parenting books said about letting babies cry it out for a little while.

“I need your help,” Maverick said again, his voice a little thin, anxious, like he wasn’t expecting Tom to say yes. But he was asking.

Tom gave him a fond smile, “Let’s start with a bath.”

It took a good few sluices with the shower head before it became clear that Maverick had brought home a puppy, up until then it was hard to tell. A terrifyingly small puppy, frail bones jutting up through thin fur. Tom would have been anxious to try and hold her still, scared to hurt her, but she was good as gold, only sitting in the bottom of the tub and trembling as they washed her down.

“Her eyes are barely open,” Maverick groaned, checking through her fur for any sign of ticks or fleas, “They’re not supposed to be away from their mom this early, right?”

“Well, we’ll just have to do our best to fill in for now,” Tom reassured him, “The vet said on the phone, the best thing we can do for her is get her clean, warm and dry then she if she’ll eat.”

Until we take her to a shelter. But he didn’t feel like saying that out loud would be helpful right now. He just passed Maverick a towel, now the puppy was thoroughly washed, hovering as he bundled her up. Now she was an admittedly rather pretty brown and white, a little like a collie that hadn’t been coloured fully in the lines. Her eyes were striking too, lopsided in color, not entirely unlike Maverick himself. Actually, in the way she trembled with barely restrained energy, the brightness in those eyes, the alert little ears, there were a lot of similarities. To Maverick when he was himself, at least.

But as Tom perched on the edge of the bath and watched Maverick gently towel off the little puppy, he realized this was the most he’d heard him speak in months. It was the most aware he’d been, the longest he’d spent on his feet without running, the brightest his eyes had been. Tom was almost afraid to push too far, like if he nudged something in just the wrong way, the whole thing would shatter.

But still he risked it, “You’re soaked through, baby, can I make you a coffee?”

“Huh? Yeah sure, if you don’t mind,” Mav hummed, rubbing the puppy behind her tiny ears. He didn’t even look up, like there had never been a time where a question like that, a quick answer, wasn’t normal, “Actually…I’m kinda hungry. Did you end up making pierogi?”

It was a good thing he didn’t look up, as Tom left the room. He didn’t have to wonder why he was close to tears.

Another call to the vet just to make sure, one trip to PetSmart, another bath after she drank her formula a little too enthusiastically and the puppy’s tail still hadn’t stopped wagging. Even as her head nodded and blinking slowed, even as she was swaying on her paws in the middle of the kitchen floor, it was still drumming a little beat against the tile, like she didn’t want a second to go by without them hearing just how happy she was.

Maverick however, looked less than happy. Tom, in contrast, was having to fight to keep his stern frown in place.

“I’m not having a dog sleeping in my bed, Maverick,” he repeated slowly, like the issue was with Mav not hearing him, “She was in a storm drain three hours ago.”

“And we gave her treatment!” Mav insisted, his jaw set in that stubborn way.

He was raising his voice. He was meeting his eye. He’d eaten three helpings of pierogi, no matter how tough the dough was. Tom wanted to jump up and down.

Instead, he folded his arms, “Nope. She’s not getting on the furniture. You shed enough for crying out loud, let alone her. She’s got all those blankets, she’s got her little box, she will be fine.”

He was being proven right, the little thing was halfway into the cardboard box Tom had filled with soft things for her, back legs pinwheeling as they struggled to catch on the edge of it. Mav immediately ran to help her, kneeling down to ease her in.

“What if she needs feeding in the night? What if she needs the bathroom? What if…what if she wakes up and misses her mama and gets scared?”

Tom couldn’t see Maverick’s face but he heard the way his voice trembled on the edge of that last word. The iron resolve that had earned him the two stars on his lapel took a significant dent, was about to crumble completely, when Mav stood up and faced Tom with a grim set determination.

“Then I’ll sleep down here with her.”

“He really means it, doesn’t he…” Sofia’s voice was soft with a mix of awe, hope and fear.

Since she’d got back home, full of frantic apologies for taking so long, she’d been leaning against the kitchen counter with her papa, watching Maverick with wide eyes, like he was some kind of rare bird that would squawk and flap away if she made a loud noise. She should really be in bed, it was getting late, but she hadn’t been able to tear herself away.

Tom shared her bewildered, shaky optimism, the kind that was almost scared of itself.

But he just smiled and reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, “Looks like it.”

Maverick had wrestled an old camping bed down from the attic and was currently sitting on it, grinning as the puppy rolled around, held safe by his crossed legs.

“And now we have a dog,” Sofia gave him a sly smile.

Tom rolled his eyes, “I suppose. But don’t tell your father, I have to pretend to put up a little more of a fight.”

Sofia could barely contain a gleeful squeak, throwing her arms around him and hugging tight. There was more than just joy in that embrace, there was relief there too and faith that everything Tom had told her, every time he’d told her it would all be okay, he’d been right. He wasn’t quite ready to believe in himself that much but knowing she did, that meant a lot.

“Goodnight, daddy,” Sofia went over to hug Maverick too, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Oh, is it that late? Alright then, kiddo, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tight right at the end the way he always hugged their kids.

When she pulled away and kissed his forehead, there was an odd look on Mav’s face, like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what it was just yet. In the end, after pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, he let her fuss over the puppy and run upstairs. It would all come later.

“You’re sure about this?” Tom smiled fondly, arms folded.

Maverick nodded firmly, “I’m staying right here. She…she needs me.”

Tom hesitated, tripping over that break in his voice, the way he suddenly bit his lip to keep it still, “Pete…”

He sank onto the little bed, reaching out and resting a hand on his knee, one he could easily pull away from if he wanted to. But Maverick didn’t. He looked like he might, for a split second, like he might withdraw, back inside the shadows he’d been carrying around for a while.

Pull up, baby, Tom felt his breath still in his lungs. If there was one thing he’d been able to give his wingman throughout their wildly different careers, the one thing he’d been able to give him that was in criminally short supply from anyone else, was faith. He’d made the mistake of not trusting Pete Mitchell before and he would never make it again. Pull up baby, come on.

“I’ve messed up so much, I can’t mess this up too…” Maverick’s voice broke, “Or…or accept that I ruin everything I touch.”

“Sweetheart,” Ice couldn’t quite hold his voice together, squeezing his knee because he knew he didn’t have the words.

“Come on,” Maverick swallowed hard, as if there were any chance he could stop the tears, “Ice, you’ve been in my corner every goddamn day but even you can’t stick by me on this. I just…I just don’t know why it’s taking you so long to realize and give up on me.”

“Because there’s no way I’m fucking doing that, Maverick,” Tom croaked, shaking his head fiercely, “We can get through this, we can save it.”

“How?” Maverick sounded desperate, sounding like a man who had water up to his chin and rising but at least he was reaching for something, “I’ve hurt Bradley so much, I’ve hurt Sofia. I don’t know how to get better.”

Tom reached out, finding his hand, knowing he needed to feel anchored, “With hard work. We’re going to get you some professional help, we’re going to talk about it, we’re going to get you back on your feet. And, I can’t lie, baby, It’s going to suck. A lot of the time it’s going to feel like we aren’t getting anywhere. But we’re going to make it work. We’ll keep going. Yeah?”

Maverick clutched him tight enough to hurt and after a moment, he nodded. And in his weary determination, Tom saw the young man who’d chosen to live as himself despite everything, who’d become the best pilot in the navy despite being exactly the kind of person they thought could never be good enough. The man who’d clung to Sofia, to Bradley, to Tom when the easiest thing would have been to let go. The man who’d saved him in the air above The Enterprise and every day since.

The puppy squeaked, flopping against Mav’s leg, cuddling in like she was perfectly happy to spend the rest of her life there. Maverick smiled weakly, even as tears rolled down his face.

“Yeah. Baby steps, right?”

“Right,” Tom raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to them, “There’s plenty to walk towards, sweetheart.”

Mav looked down at the puppy, who was now snoring, surprisingly loudly for her size, “I think I’m going to call her Piper. It’s a kind of plane, right? Those little ones that go really fast?”

“Sounds somewhat familiar,” Tom smiled, leaning in to kiss him, “You know where I am if you need me. I’m here for you, okay?”

Maverick watched him as he got up, letting his hands go after a second of two longer than usual, “Okay. I love you, Tom.”

He hesitated in the doorway, knowing his heart was going to break a little when he left. But that was okay. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

“I love you too, Pete,” he flashed him a soft smile before making himself turn and head up to bed.

Maybe Maverick would wake up in the night, screaming, sobbing, begging someone not to go. Maybe Tom would come down in the morning and find him and Piper curled up, fast asleep, safe and sound. Whatever happened, they would deal with it.

Baby steps.

#top gun #icemav #Sofia Mitchell #angst #tom kazansky #pete mitchell #iceman #maverick #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #please reblog and comment!

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sylkiddsey · 5 months

Text

Prompt: “Hold Onto Me”

Set in the early/ middle of season 8

Sylvie’s going to kill Stella. She’s actually going to corner her behind the rotting benches on their side of the field and murder her.

She did this. She implanted this stupid idea about her and Matt; Matt freaking Casey who has to be the worst possible person to have somewhat feelings for.

Okay, maybe Olivia is the one to blame since she said the stupid six words that can’t stop ringing through her brain like a bell. Still, Stella didn’t disagree. She also didn’t slap Sylvie across the face for even considering wanting Matt. Instead, she smirked and now she won’t let it go.

Now, she begged Sylvie to join the CFD softball team who annually plays against CPD. It’s strictly a pissing contest whose only prize is winning and bragging rights. It’s something Severide created so he could kick Jay Halstead’s ass.

Her best friend, her evil intentioned best friend, encouraged her to join this year. She insisted it was because Sylvie played softball in high school. Her friend knows she has a good arm so of course she’d want her on the team.

Wrong, this decision; this torture, is all because of Matt Casey. Stella convinced her here, so she had no choice but to stare and pine for the man who brings a whole new definition to the word swoon.

He’s hot on any given day, that much is obvious. It’s just a fact because any girl who encounters him on a scene, sweaty, stern and sometimes dirty, gets star eyes. They look at him like some Greek god and Sylvie’s human.

Matt’s incredibly attractive but this scene, this look is ungodly. When she first saw him, she rubbed her eyes so hard she saw spots. She thought she was hallucinating but this man was real.

The second-hand cheap uniform that’s oversized on her fits him amazingly. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up so all she can see is tan skin. Plus, his backwards baseball cap stirs something inside her that she didn’t even know existed.

Not to mention, his semi-competitive nature is a real turn on. All of it is entirely inappropriate considering he’s Gabby’s ex-husband. Matt’s her friend and she reasons with herself that any woman would admire this look. Hell, maybe Hailey and Kim are right there with her.

However, based on their starry looks for their respective partner’s, she doubts it. Unfortunately, she’s probably the only one foaming at the mouth. Well, she has seen the blonde female patrol cop making heart eyes at him.

There’s that at least.

God, she’s going to kill Stella after this. There’s no way she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted her to have to see Matt like this. Just because she’s so happy with her own firefighter man does not give her the right.

Although Sylvie has murder on her mind, she’s also sadistically glad to play alongside him. She’s damn good and it’s thrilling to see his reaction. He even swatted her ass in congratulations after she ran into home base when Cruz advanced to first.

He’s never done that before, and she really can’t say she hated it. Although it was a little awkward when Hermann did the same thing. It’s endearing how into the game Hermann gets. She loves seeing his carefree self.

All and all, playing on the team is fun and they are definitely kicking PD’s ass. They are up by five runs in the bottom of the fifth inning. Jay and Atwater are good and Hailey’s surprisingly fast, but Adam and Kim can’t stop flirting to really do any good. Plus, the patrol cops Platt threatened so they’d join the team are clearly not into it. They rarely make contact with the ball or catch anything in the outfield.

Realistically, her team is in much better shape. Matt and Severide are athletes and Stella and Foster are so competitive it turns into skill. Cruz is one of the best third basemen and Gallo has hit more home runs than anybody. Even Ritter is quick on his feet.

She’s sure they are going to win which is probably why Severide gives in and lets her pitch another inning. His arm is sore, so he forfeits his pitcher status so that means she’s up again.

So far, she’s striked out most of PD aside from a few badly called balls. Trudy Platt makes a very biased umpire, but what can you do? Severide, aka the self-elected leader, pulled himself out while bases were loaded. Hailey had just reached first, pushing Atwater to second. Now, Jay is up to bat, and he looks determined.

His used helmet tips down and he adjusts, getting into a proper swinging stance. “Show us what you got Brett.”

What is it about men and trash talk?

She bends her knees and winds her arm. Ideally, it should pass through the strike zone without that bat making contact. She reels back and shoots forward, throwing the pale-yellow ball as hard as she can.

Jay swings, but misses, the softball landing in Cruz’s catcher mitt with a thwack. Platt declares her throw as a strike.

“Atta girl!” Stella hollers from the short-stop position. She smacks her hand into the glove and winks.

Okay, maybe Sylvie won’t kill her. She’s too encouraging for that.

Jay murmurs, scuffs his sneaker against the dirt and then repositions. He holds the bat behind his shoulder, and she winds up again, throwing the ball a little higher this time. Jay swings and misses, Platt declaring a second strike.

One more and he’s out and CFD bats again. She can easily do this.

“You got this, Brett.”

She looks over her shoulder. Matt’s playing first base because, duh, he’s just that good. He grins at her which causes a wave of nervousness to rush over. Before, she felt confident, but now with Matt’s very blue eyes tracking her every movement, she has butterflies.

God he looks so good. This Saturday evening hue does wonders for him.

Once Jay repositions again, she winds her arm back. She rotates her joint in a circle and releases the ball once it’s straight. It soars in the air harder than the previous ones and she watches Jay’s shinny blue bat make contact. Her eyes drift back onto Matt so she can watch him in action. She registers the harsh clinking noise and hears a simultaneous gasp amongst PD players inside the dugout.

She’s not sure what that is about until the ball comes flying back in her direction and beams her directly in the side of the head. Everything goes dark and before she can process anything, she tastes rich dirt on her lips.

There are a lot of voices all around her, but the throbbing inside her skull and eye socket makes it hard to process any of it. Jay can really hit the ball which should’ve been obvious. The man hits doors with battering rams for a living.

He has some power.

“Sylvie, can you hear me?”

Oh great. Matt, of course he’s here. Of course, the man she can’t get out of her damn head just witnessed her not so graceful face plant into the dirt.

This is humiliating.

His warm, rough hand grazes the back of her head. Despite not being able to open her eyes, she knows his face is right in front of hers. His voice sounds close, and she can also smell the faint scent of the cologne he probably put on before all this.

He grips her shoulder with his unoccupied hand. “Hey, I need you to open your eyes.”

The tone of his voice somehow lessens the pain, so she tries to blink. At first, everything is blurry. All she can see is redness and several sets of feet. After she lets her eyes adjust, she realizes she’s on her stomach. Her right eye is also swollen and throbbing.

“Hey, she’s coming to!”

Stella? Sylvie rolls herself onto her back covering her bad eye. Stella’s crouched next to her, shouting at Foster who is rooting around in the dugout. She’s probably looking for a first aid kit.

The game has apparently stopped. Everyone is crowded around her like she’s some zoo extraction. It is so embarrassing.

“Sylvie, hey? Are you alright?” Matt asks, allowing his hand to cup the side of her face. His worried features are blurry, but still tense.

“Geez, is she okay?”

Jay’s bent at the waist, hands on his knees by her feet. His expression is a mixture between worry and guilty.

Matt shoots him a tense glare, voice low and angry. She’s heard him talk like this on scenes with uncooperative people. “What do you think? You beamed her in the head.”

She’s sure poor Jay didn’t mean to do it. He just had a great hit and maybe if she wasn’t admiring Matt, she could’ve ducked.

Matt turns his attention on her again, narrowed eyes growing soft. His fingers brush some dirt off her face. “Hey, can you talk to me? Do you know where you are?”

Unfortunately, she does.

Her stomach churns at the reality of all this along with the pain. She feels herself grow pale.

“I’m going to be sick,” she murmurs, turning onto her right side by Stella. If she’s going to lose her sandwich Cindy packed for all of them, she’d rather Matt not witnesses that. She’s sure Stella won’t appreciate it, but this is also kind of her fault. She talked her into this.

When she’s on her side, the nausea dissipates. After she feels better, she rolls onto her back. Somehow, she ends up in Matt’s lap with his arm supporting her shoulders.

Emily runs over with the pitiful first aid kit someone left behind in the dugout. When she unpacks it, there is only a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a warm ice pack.

Sylvie feels something wet roll down her face. She touches the skin above her eye and realizes it must’ve split open from the ball's stitches. She’s bleeding.

“You need a hospital, partner,” Foster says. “You’ll probably need stitches and a CT.”

Yeah, she’d agree she has a concussion. A cop’s strength will do that to a person.

“I’m so sorry, Brett,” Jay apologizes.

She gives him a thumbs up and mumbles, “It’s fine.”

Matt looks down at her, gently caressing her head. “I’m going to take you to Med.”

“What about the game?” Severide asks.

Both Stella and Matt glare through his soul. Although, she’s not upset with him at all. She doesn’t expect they stop the game all because of this.

“She’s bleeding and concussed. I think you’ll survive forfeiting the game,” Matt retorts.

“No, keep playing,” she insists, wincing at how talking aggravates her injury. “Cindy or someone from the stands can take me.”

“No way,” he argues. “I got it.”

Oh god. This can’t get any worse. She loves how much he cares, but he’s killing her.

Stella must notice because she pipes up. “It’s okay, Casey. I can take her. You keep playing.”

Matt begins maneuvering her in his arms. She groans as he just barely jostles her. She’s seeing stars.

“No offense Kidd, but I don’t think you can carry her to the car,” he replies.

Carry? She can probably walk.

“Casey, I can walk,” she protests, but he doesn’t listen. He slides one arm under her back and legs.

“No, you can’t Sylvie,” he replies. “Hold onto me.”

She has no choice but to do what he asks. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he hoists her in his arms like she’s weightless. The movement makes her dizzy, so she rests her head on his broad shoulder.

Despite how embarrassing this is, she can’t say she’s miserable. This is surprisingly nice.

“Kidd, can you grab my keys from my bag and help me get her in the truck?” He requests.

“Sure.”

Sylvie ignores the commotion around her and focuses on how nice it feels to be in his arms.

:::

She winds up behind a curtain in Med’s ER with one of Matt’s old t-shirts against her bleeding eye as she waits. Unfortunately, the ER is overflowing with people who are in worse shape so she’s stuck waiting. It doesn’t matter that Matt already made an enemy out of one of the doctor’s she doesn’t know after he demanded she get some ice; she still has to wait.

The bleeding has slowed, but she’s definitely dizzy. Matt had of course carried her in despite the many many times she insisted she could walk. He never listened because he carried her until he gently sat her on the gurney.

Now, he’s standing next to her with one of her hands tight in his. He took off the hat at some point, so his hair is disheveled and messy. It’s not a bad change.

She really didn’t think he’d stick around, but they’ve been waiting almost an hour and he’s stayed by her side. She’s somewhat reclined back with her knees propped up and her left-hand holding pressure against her face.

He told her ten minutes ago that Stella texted that she and Emily were trying to visit, but with the ER so packed, the nursing staff wanted all unnecessary visitors out.

She understands and as much as she loves her friends, Matt is great company too.

She squeezes Matt’s fingers to lessen the pain because her eye is throbbing and swollen. He must notice the additional pressure because he turns his head and frowns.

“Hey, is it getting worse?” He asks.

“No, just throbs every now and then. I guess that is happens when you take a softball to the eye socket.”

So far, he’s been standing next to her, leaning on the railing every once and awhile after stretching his back. Now, he reaches for one of the plastic chairs with one hand and drags it next to her. He sits down, resting both elbows on the railing and moves his free hand to her head.

He sweeps some hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, Halstead hit you hard, Brett.”

She bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, I know Casey. I felt it.”

Matt chuckles, letting his hand rest on the top of her head. “I bet. You dropped to the ground instantly. I don’t think anyone had time to react.”

God, that’s so embarrassing.

She groans. “Just great. That’s not humiliating at all.”

“Oh, come on,” he replies. “There is nothing embarrassing about getting hurt. It was Halstead’s fault. Not yours.”

“He didn’t mean to hit me. It was a good hit,” she says. “I should’ve ducked or gotten out of the way. It’s not Jay’s fault.”

He leans back but keeps ahold of her hand. “I don’t care. You shouldn’t have gotten hit like that. You’re going to need stitches and you probably have a concussion.”

She ticks one finger in the air. “Definitely have a concussion. Paramedics know these things, but hey, at least I didn’t break anything.”

The second she makes the joke, she regrets it. Matt’s expression shifts and she berates herself for making light of the Arnow fire.

“I…I’m sorry,” she whispers, squeezing his hand. “I shouldn’t have…”

He shakes his head and shifts his gaze down. “No, no, you’re right. I guess it’s kind of hypocritical of me to be upset with Halstead for hurting you when I did the same.”

She’s so stupid. How could she bring this up? It’s not Matt’s fault. She’s never blamed him ever.

“Casey, you didn’t…” she chews on the inside of her lip. “It wasn’t your fault. I would never blame you for what happened.”

He meets her stare. “I called you in, Brett. I told you it was safe. That’s on me.”

She knows he holds so much guilt over that day, especially Otis’s death. It’s unnecessary because it wasn’t on him. It was the factory’s negligence that caused the blast.

“You thought it was,” she replies. “Everyone did. There was no way for you to know. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah,” he replies, but she can tell he doesn’t believe it. He probably never will.

She switches gears and lets her gaze settle on his hand, watching as his rough thumb grazes her pointer finger in soothing patterns. Originally, she thought this injury was a curse, but it’s kind of a blessing. It’s nice to see how much he cares.

He’s a great guy.

“You know,” she whispers, looking up at him. She wants this next confession to really sink in. “More than anyone in the world, I’d trust you with my life. I really would, Casey.”

The signature solemn Matt Casey looks changes. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a small grin. “I appreciate that.” He clears his throat, and she swears his cheeks turn a little red, but that might just be her impaired vision. “When Boden came over the radio and said someone was hurt…I was really hoping it wasn’t you. I mean, I didn’t want Foster or anybody else to be really hurt, but I don’t know.”

She holds her breath in anticipation. The confession startles her to her core. What does that even mean?”

“I guess what I’m saying is…worst case scenario for me was that it was you who was hurt…well, aside from the absolute worst…”

She gently interrupts him. They both know what he means. “Yeah, I know.” She decides to shift the tone. “I knew I’d grow on you eventually.”

Huh, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. She is concussed and the pain meds just now kicked in. She’ll blame her loose filter on that.

Matt chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I wouldn’t say you never did. I mean, I’ve liked you since the day I met you.”

Platonically, she reminds herself.

She purses her lips. “No, you definitely didn’t. We barely knew each other. I was just…”

Gabby’s best friend.

God, she’s the worst person ever. She shouldn’t be holding Matt’s hand right now. It’s wrong.

She tries to ease her hand away, but his grip never waivers.

Whatever. If he’s okay with it, so is she.

It’s all friendly anyway.

“Okay,” Matt concedes. “Maybe it took me a couple years to really appreciate you in all your glory, but I had a lot going on. Now, I don’t know…I guess it’s easy with you. I mean, talking and hopefully, building a friendship.”

His sentence trails off with a question. She can’t believe he would think for one second that she doesn’t consider him as a friend.

She does.

The pain meds are leaving her feeling fuzzy. She grins, readjusting the shirt that smells like Matt against her eye. “See? I knew you’d fall in love with me.”

Oh my god.

She lifts her head and the room spins, but she’s too immersed in her panic to clock her symptoms.

Did she really just…

To her surprise, Matt doesn’t look appalled by her stupid slip-up. He’s actually grinning in amusement.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean…pickles.” She shakes her head, averting her gaze onto the tiled ceiling. “Platonically of course. I meant platonically fall in love. I say the same thing to Severide which I obviously don’t want him in love with me. Not that he would. I mean, he’s madly in love with Stella which I want! I want my best friend so happy. I’m not…oh my god.”

She feels like a human car crash. Every move she makes causes more damage.

“Brett,” Matt laughs.

“Obviously you’ll never fall in love with me,” Sylvie says. It’s true. “Nor would I ever in a million years want you to, Casey.” Unfortunate lie.

He raises his eyebrows. Did she offend him?

“You’re not my type. You’re not unattractive obviously…I mean, I’m not saying I don’t think your…”

Now would be the best time for her blood vessels to pop if she does in fact have a brain bleed. It would shut her up, but also give her an excuse to hide behind after all that word vomit.

“Sylvie,” he interrupts, lightly patting her head. “You’re drugged up on pain pills. Probably best you stop talking.”

Yeah, definitely not a bad idea.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. You can um…I can wait alone. I don’t want to put you out. You probably have things…”

“You better not be trying to push me away now,” he says. “I like being here for you, okay? And I like that you seem to like it too. Just let me.”

Gosh, he’s so earnest. It amazes her.

“I do like you here. I appreciate it,” she says. “I really do.”

She does.

Appreciate him.

#brettsey #prompts #based on a prompt #sylkiddsey prompts #been in the drafts for A LONG TIME #Sorry but all these prompts are probably gonna be pre-canon Brettsey #i just like writing pre canon so much better #and I have an obsession with exploring early season 8

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luna-nigthshade-wood · 3 months

Text

The perfect gift

The perfect gift, everyone thinks, is the minimal gift that Dean deserves in his birthday after all the years he spent taking care of everyone and saving the world, and his family is willing to find. Aka, the ducklings+ Cas try to find the perfect gift for Dean

The perfect gift, Jack decides as he puts different pans and pots in the kitchen counter, is this. And he can’t help but be excited when Dean smiles at him as he takes a bite of his-slightly-more-charred-than-brown burnt pancakes. The excitement doesn’t stop even when he has to help Dean cleaned the kitchen and burnt pans.

The perfect gift, Bobby-John believes as he struggles to find the design he wants, is this. And he feels cheerful as Dean hugs the teddy bear he designed with its soft and brown fur, dressed in a plaid t-shirt that smells like the apples and cinnamon of the pies that Dean likes so much. Bobby-John gets even more cheerful when Dean hugs him too.

The perfect gift, Kaia ponders as she struggles to find it, is this. And the gleeful look on Dean´s face as he opens the box and finds a collection of well-loved Vonnegut books is worth it. And Dean and her will later get engrossed in a conversation about the real classics, while Claire calls them nerds, and that will be even more worth it.

The perfect gift, Jesse rules as he browses the aisles of the store, is this. And the childlike wonder that Dean gets as he finds his favorite comic books from when he was a child makes Jesse´s chest swell up with pride. And later, Dean and him will see the comics and try to recreate the sillier moves, and they will laugh like loons.

The perfect gift, Alex hopes as she tries to untangle the wool, is this. And the way Dean´s eyes light up as she presents him the bracelet with the good luck pendant makes her thankful to be here sharing this moment. And afterwards, Alex will hug Dean, and the hunter will promise to always be there for them.

The perfect gift, Krissy wonders as she steps inside the music store, is this. And the way that Dean caresses the polished wood of the guitar she gifts him, as he starts playing some tunes, makes her smile something fierce. And once the party has dwindled down, Dean will track her down and teach her some basic tunes, and her smile will be the brightest

The perfect gift, Patience reflects as she wipes the paint from her hands, is this. And the delicate way that Dean handles the portrait she made of their whole family as if he was handling a Picasso, is a balm to her soul. And later Dean will build the picture a frame before finding the best place to hang it at the Bunker, and they will both smile every time they see it.

The perfect gift, Ben exclaims as he clicks in his computer, is this. And the little fist bumped, Dean makes when he opens the box to find the tickets to the baseball game makes him do a little fist bump himself. Later on, Dean will take an old glove and a baseball ball and their little play will devolve in an all time war with his siblings and family, and he will cackle at the chaos.

The perfect gift, Claire trusts as she finishes the final touches of her gift, is this. And the delicateness that Dean has as he pulls the new polished and repaired dagger out of the box, makes Claire smile despite herself. Afterwards, Dean will ask her how she was able to make this and Claire will smile cryptically towards Cas, but won’t say anything, after all she is the one that went through all the trouble of recreating the angel´s blade.

The perfect gift, Emma contemplates as she tries to take the glue out of her hands, is this. And the brightness of Dean´s smile as he careful looks at every photo of the scrapbook she made, bright her heart and her days. After, Dean will pull out and old trunk full of memories and pictures and they will start another scrapbook together, and she will feel the happiest person on the world

The perfect gifts, Sam shuffles as he tries to get them all through the door, is this. And the way that Dean almost falls in his haste to get to the pie table is a reward by itself. Later, Sam and Dean will go out and sit in the trunk of the Impala as when they were kids just watching the stars and they will both forever be grateful of being brothers

The perfect gift, Cas is not sure what it is and then he remembers something small that Dean used to want when he was a child. It is in the way that Dean eyes start to wet as he slowly but surely takes the figure action he wanted all those years ago, and sometime soars inside Cas´ chest as Dean pulls him in a kiss. Dean will go to bed later that night and will cuddle with him, and that is the most perfect gift that Cas can ask.

The perfect gift, Dean thinks, is this right here. It is the sheepish look in Jack´s face as he presents his burned pancakes to him. It is in the proud eyes of Bobby-John after he presents the teddy bear to him. It is in the excitement that Kaia gets as she starts to discuss her favorite books with him. It is in Jesse´s laughs as they pretend to be Batman and Robin It is in the way Alex´s protectiveness ensues as he promises to never leave any of them alone. It is in the soft tunes that Krissy plays on the guitar as he teaches her some of the music they both love. It is in Patience´s art and painting that bring a smile to his face every time he sees them. It is in the hesitant but firm way Ben throws the ball as their little practice evolves into and all war (it is also in the chaos that ensues). It is in the way that Claire smirks as he wonders how was she was able to recreate such a master piece. It is in the happiness of Emma and her little quips as she tells him the story of every photo on the scrapbook. It is in the nervousness on Sam as he suggests they go to watch the stars as was their tradition when they were children (it is in the happiness he gets as they do just that). It is in the action figure that Cas carefully gifts Dean, and it is not even about the action figure, it is about the healing of his inner child and the thoughtfulness that Cas had when he searched for said gift.

The perfect gift, Dean is sure, is this moment, it is being alive, surrounded by his love ones, and he wouldn’t change them for all the presents in the world

AO3

#supernatural #spn fic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #emma winchester #claire novak #jack kline #ben braeden #kaia nieves #jesse turner #patience turner #krissy chambers #alex jones #bobby john #dean ducklings #deans birthday

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sawyerconfort · 6 months

Note

Jess McCready cuddle fluff imagine pls

HEY!

Sorry, it took me a while to post this.

Anyway, I hope you like it. I'm slowly coming back with imagines from other fandoms and, as I'm missing aloto these days (I'm still not over it), I thought I needed to post one.

Enjoy!

Please be patient with the asks, it takes me a while, but I'll do it!

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

Grumpy Kid | Jess McCready x Fem!Reader

PROMPT: When you date someone who apparently doesn't like physical touch and you're secretly crazy about spooning.

***

It was raining. And you were accompanying your newest girlfriend's baseball team on a trip out of the state they usually stayed in.

It was common that early in the morning, before the game, the Rockford Peaches would go out to practice a little, and you would follow Jess there too, from the stands. But you had met the bad weather, and that was common as well.

Now, without practice or games, the girls tried to have fun the way they liked best. Some had gotten involved in a game of chess, others were drinking and smoking, some were sleeping peacefully. You and Jess were just relaxing, in the room she shared with Greta, her forcefully cutting her nails while you were in bed, feet up.

"You're going to come to bed, aren't you?"

Jess looked at you. "All I'm missing is my big toe. And then I'll go, yes."

You smiled, knowing she was serious. But of course, your girlfriend's stay in bed came with a price: no spooning.

Jess wasn't fond of physical touch, and that was clear from the moment you met, in a gay bar at the game the girls played in your state. She tried really hard to ask you to dance with her and was a little afraid when you rested your face on her chest in the middle of the slow song.

It kind of confused you at first, but now, it was a matter of habit, more than anything.

As she had said before, she finished doing her toe nails and threw herself on the bed, surprisingly opening her arms and looking at you as if to say: "come to my hug", which was unheard of.

"Don't get used to it, just so you have something better to lie on than those hard, horrible pillows, God..."

You smiled and nodded, hugging her and laying your head on her chest. Jess didn't hug you or anything, just kept her arms up, sighing.

"I wish we could practice, this is so unfair," she complained, sighing again. You looked at her with a frown.

"Unless you want to catch a cold, of course, I agree."

Jess looked back at you and chuckled. "Then you would take care of me," she laughed again. "Oh come on, (Y/N), don't make that face."

You raised your arms in surrender and she laughed. Then, she dodged when you tried to touch her chest, caressing her.

"Jess..."

"We've already talked about this, love."

"But the weather is perfect for cuddling...", you pouted and she laughed. "Please..."

Jess rolled her eyes playfully and continued with her arms up, not making a point of hugging you. Until you threw yourself at her and surprised her, in a good way.

"(Y/N), what the actual fuck?", she whispered, not in an angry way, just confused, her way.

"Okay, my bad. I was just trying", you explained, now feeling guilty. Jess looked at you with teary eyes and a frown, then grabbed your chin with her pincer finger and lifted it.

Her little eyes... Jess McCready was definitely tough and a lot stronger than she even looked, but she was just as affectionate when she was with you, especially.

"It's okay, baby, I know," she whispered. "I'm the one who owes you an apology. I was too rude this time, sorry."

"No, love... You were just being you."

You laughed and pressed your nose against hers, which she allowed, without fear, without backing down this time. Jess pulled you closer, holding you by the waist, and then rested her chin on the top of your head.

"I think I'm starting to like the idea of spooning in the rain. You’re very comfortable, (Y/N).”

"You think?"

Jess nodded, and the minutes-long kiss she gave you afterwards was breathtaking.

"My comfy girl..." she whispered, laughing. "But please, just don't tell the girls that we're spooning, okay?"

“Okay, grumpy kid,” you teased back, laughing. "Okay, that would be a good name for a superhero, hmm?"

Jess rolled her eyes, but didn't let go of you, not even with the bad jokes you made for the rest of the time you were there, until the rain stopped for good.

#lgbt #romance #oneshot #imagine #fluff #aloto x reader #aloto #a league of their own x reader #a league of their own #jess mccready #jess mccready x reader #she's too cute i wanna kiss all over her face #ok next one is a prompt from heathers should be out soon also don't worry

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softguarnere · 11 months

Text

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x ofc

Chapter 19: A Native American in Paris

Summary: When he returns, he hands Zenie a postcard with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it. “It’s not as good as having a picture taken in front of it, but, you know, I thought that it might be somethin’.” A/N: When I first started writing this fic, I always imagined D-Day as the beginning of a "Part Two" in the story. Regardless of what act we're in, this definitely feels like an intermission point for me. So I just wanted to take the time to say thank you for sticking with me this far, and I hope you'll hang around for the rest of the story <3 Warnings: mentions of war, drinking, implied sex Taglist: @latibvles @lady-cheeky @liebgotts-lovergirl @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs @ithinkabouttzu

France, 1944

Passes all around! It’s so much different from life back at Toccoa. It feels so long ago now that Zenie’s hands would clench into fists at her side when Captain Sobel would make up some excuse to revoke her pass. Maybe this is to make up for the fact that they got so few of these back in Georgia.

Paris is the keyword floating all around the barracks. All Zenie’s friends score passes to the City of Light. After the dreary days of sitting in mud in Holland, the prospect of exploring the city seems like a marvelous makeup for the eighty-something days stuck waiting. Zenie finds herself with a forty-eight hour pass to the famed city in her hands. The idea of someday getting the chance to brag to Marilyn that she visited the Eifel Tower makes her laugh. Then Shifty meets her eye from across the room and announces that he also has a pass to Paris – and on the same day as her. And suddenly the city that Zenie has hardly ever spared a thought for seems brighter and full of more possibilities than anything Marilyn used to describe while fawning over her books.

Especially because they still haven’t been alone.

Having friends is such a change of pace from Zenie’s life before running away. She loves them, and being with them. Lately, however, it seems like she can’t get a second away from them.

Mourmelon-le-Grand for R&R. Except the Rest in “Rest and Relaxation” has somehow turned into preparing for a football game that Zenie cannot seem to come up with a good enough excuse to not play in.

“Look,” she finally tells Babe one day in the barracks when he won’t stop pestering her about it. “I’m no good at football. My older brother played baseball, so that’s what I was taught. It’d be different if you wanted me to be a pitcher.” Or if we were playing any game that wouldn’t get me tackled, crushed, and exposed, she doesn’t add.

Babe swats his hand, pushing away her words. “Well lucky for you, you’ve got me to teach you. And I’m great at football, Tommy. I could have you ready for this game in a matter of days.”

“You tryin’ to get little Tommy a Purple Heart by getting’ all his bones crushed, ya mean?”

Everyone in the barracks jumps at the sound of a familiar voice – one whose absence has been heavily felt.

“Bill!”

The Italian spreads his arms as wide as his smile as he fully enters the room. He’s limping, but it doesn’t damper his smile. “What? Ya think you’d never see me again or somethin’?”

“Didn’t know how long ya were gonna baby that leg,” Babe quips, ducking when the taller man makes a move to affectionately ruffle his hair.

“Baby it? Yeah right. You know who you’re talkin’ to, Heffron? I made ‘em cut the cast off early so I could get back here and keep your ass in line!”

“Yeah, and God knows we needed that, because he keeps trying to get Tommy killed,” Joe says from his place on his bunk.

A cloud of seriousness crosses Bill’s face as he turns to her. “You really that bad at football?”

Well I should be, considering that I’ve never played, Zenie thinks. Instead, she nods. “The worst.”

“Someone could probably fix that. Not right now, though.” His smile returns as he glances over their group, a glint in his eye. “Any of you up for a little trip to Lulu’s?”

In the moment, there’s nothing particularly special about Lulu’s or the night that they spend there. (Besides, maybe, the fact that Bill missed the party with the Red Devils, and they feel the need to make up for all the fun he missed.) They drink too much and dance too fast and sing too loudly. On the way back to barracks, they cling to each other and laugh brightly as they haul each other home – a real team effort. With promising days of R&R ahead of them, they go to bed, already thinking of having this kind of fun night after night.

The place is a frenzy of excitement. The football game creeps ever closer and practices pick up with the mounting tensions. (Personally, Zenie’s not sure why anyone would worry when Joe Toye is playing for their team.) Passes are being taken into the cities, and each time a group of soldiers returns to brag about the fun he had, the harder Zenie’s heart pounds in her chest when she thinks about how she and Shifty both have passes to Paris.

“Two more days,” she notes as casually as she can in line for breakfast one day. “Never heard of half the places people are talking about.”

“Me neither. But a lot of the fellas seem to think it’s mighty fun there. Lots to do.”

Zenie hums in agreement. “Probably a lot of walking around the city.”

“Probably.”

“Lots of time to talk.”

As he scoops eggs onto his plate, Zenie catches him biting his lip. It doesn’t hide his smile. “Definitely.”

Lucky does not even begin to describe how Zenie feels when she learns that she and Shifty seem to be the only ones of their friends to have passes to Paris. After every chance that she might have had to speak with him has been thwarted, part of her is on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, expecting something else to keep them apart.

They leave the barracks amiably enough. They make small talk as they board the train and make their way towards the city.

“This is my third time,” one of the soldiers in their train car brags as they ride. He quirks an eyebrow at them. “You ever been to Paris?”

“Never,” Zenie replies as Shifty shakes his head.

The soldier only nods. “Well, it doesn’t disappoint, I’ll tell you that much. You just have to know all the right places to look if you want to have a good time.”

“I think we’ll manage.”

And they do. Shifty has already seen the city while out on a different pass with Popeye. Once they get off the train, though, he only smiles at Zenie and lets her take the lead, making suggestions about the fastest way to get places as they go.

As they weave their way through the people and the streets, they talk. Not in the way that Zenie has been waiting for them to, but at least they’re talking. More than they have been lately, too, which is enough for her. It’s enough just to see him smile at her as he regales her with stories of what he and Popeye saw and did while using their passes, and she tells him about Marilyn’s travel books that her sister would stare at for hours at night. It’s enough for their fingers to brush when Shifty buys a piece of pain au chocolat, then breaks it down the middle and hands her half. It's enough to watch his eyes light up when she uses a gentle finger to wipe a smudge of chocolate off his upper lip. This is what she imagined when she pictured them having a secret relationship. This is what she’s been missing.

But, she has to remind herself, this is what Shifty was worried would get them caught. The memory of that night at the brothel makes her chest ache. He didn’t think this would be possible until after the war. And maybe he still doesn’t want it until then. She won’t know until they get to talk – really talk.

“It’s big, ain’t it?” Shifty asks when they stop in front of the Eiffel Tower.

The famed tower is impressive. With the elevators not operational, though, there isn’t much to do but stand under it and admire it from different angles. Zenie tries to soak it up in her mind so that she can remember it later.

“Here.” As if he can read her mind, Shifty steps away, heading towards an older woman with a cart. He counts out some money and hands it to her. She smiles as she hands him something. When he returns, he hands Zenie a postcard with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it. “It’s not as good as having a picture taken in front of it, but, you know, I thought that it might be somethin’.”

“It’s perfect,” Zenie rushes to assure him. “Thank you, Shifty.”

The Virginian smiles, his cheeks tinged pink.

“You know,” he says. “If you’ve seen everything that you want to, I know somewhere that we can go. Away.”

As if to prove his point, a group of American soldiers walks behind them. Zenie and Shifty might have come here alone, without any of their other friends, but they’re not truly alone. Not yet.

Zenie pockets the postcard. “Lead the way.”

People bustle up and down the streets, laughing as they go. A few little kids point at her when they spot her, yelling in their excitement. It’s a bit like being back in Holland – well, the better part of being in Holland, when all the people had come out to welcome them with open arms. Zenie always makes sure to smile back, and salutes them just for the fun of it. It’s a nice distraction from the clammy feeling in her palms as she waits.

She spins around as the door of the hotel opens. Every time she’s hoped that it’s Shifty returning. This time, it really is him. He nods to her and flashes a key.

Up and up and up. The only sound on the stairwell is that of their boots echoing against the walls as they climb. Zenie glances at Shifty every now and then, feels him doing the same to her, but neither makes a move to speak. Maybe, like her, he’s trying to work out everything that he wants to say.

Peeling paint covers the door to their room. It’s at the end of the hallway, secluded, quiet. Zenie still glances over her shoulder as Shifty opens the door and ushers her inside.

This room is nothing like the one they talked in that night at the brothel. Whereas that room was dark and contained only a bed, this one is full of light and has not only a fluffy looking bed, but a vanity and a small doorway that leads to a bathroom. Something about the place makes it feel warm, and not just in temperature.

Closing the door behind her, Zenie stays in place even as Shifty walks further into the room. He glances back at her and, like that night at the brothel, gestures toward the bed.

“You wanna . . . ?”

The bed is just as fluffy as Zenie suspected it would be. It dips under their weight as they seat themselves. Also like that night, and against her better judgement, they sit close to each other. Really, what reason is there to not? Just like back in the foxholes of Holland, their knees bump into each other. They leave them there, pressing into each other.

This won’t be like last time, Zenie assures her heart as it pounds against her ribcage. Well, last time they had been holding hands when Shifty dropped the news –

No, he didn’t drop the news. He didn’t even get to finish what he wanted to say because Earl had started firing his gun and they had to leave the building. He was going to ask her to wait. And now . . . ?

She tries to find something to say, anything. They both start to speak at the same time. Words overlapping, they pause, each offering the other a small smile.

“Sorry,” Shifty says. “You first.”

Her first, with hardly a word at the ready. She says the first one that comes to mind, which is the only one she can properly associate with the whole situation that’s been playing out these past few months.

“I’m sorry. I wish we could start over.”

Slowly, Shifty nods. “Me, too. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He pauses, pushing a short sigh out through his nose. “When I was tryin’ to ask you to wait until after the war, I thought that I was protectin’ you. From this – “ He gestures around the room. “ – The sneaking around, and all that. But I didn’t consider, see, hurtin’ your feelings indirectly. I wanted to tell you, when I realized what had happened. But I could never seem to find you by yourself . . .”

Zenie cringes at the memory of dodging Shifty’s presence, of not meeting his eyes or looking directly at him until that night at the pub when Skinny asked him what he wanted to do after the war.

“That was my fault, and I’m sorry. I –“ She has to laugh, almost, at how stupid it seems now, to have been avoiding him. “ – I was trying to protect myself, and instead I ended up hurting you. And I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to.”

Silence falls over them. Then, like that night at the brothel, Shifty holds out his hand. There is no hesitation on Zenie’s part; of course she takes it, intwining their fingers together and relishing the feeling it sends down her spine.

“This is what we’ve been missing,” she realizes aloud.

Shifty nods. He lets out an unexpected laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I was gonna put this off until the end of the war. Coulda been doin’ it the whole time.”

“But you were right to be worried. About being caught, I mean.”

“Maybe. After everythin’ we’ve been through, though, is it really worth the wait?”

This time, Zenie tries to take in the full meaning of his words instead of just assuming she knows what he means, or what’s about to happen.

“What do you mean?”

“The end of the war might be a long way off, you know,” Shifty says. “And, I don’t know. After all we’ve been through, I guess I’ve realized that nothin’ is for certain.” He pauses and meets her eye. He stares so deeply into her that it feels like he’s trying to read her mind. “I don’t mind it – the sneakin’ around, I mean – if you don’t. And the end of the war . . . Well, if you want, we can figure it out when we get there. Whenever that may be.”

Her heart lurches, ready to take the plunge with him.

“You want us to court?” She clarifies. Nothing will be left to chance or interpretation this time.

“Yes.”

Going with Shifty Powers. Of course she will, and she tells him as much. She only wishes she could tell her past self, all the way back in Toccoa, that this was coming; that version of Zenie would have never seen this coming.

Her hands shake. She wonders if he can feel them trembling against his. A laugh, a sigh of relief, and a jubilant cry all gather at the back of her throat. When she opens her mouth, she’s not sure which will come out.

“You know,” she says instead. “I think you’ve just made me the happiest girl in Paris.”

Shifty grins. “Zena, when we make it out of this war, I’ll make sure you’re the happiest girl in the whole world.”

The rest of the war, Zenie prays, will be kind to them.

With the forty-eight-hour pass, they don’t have to wait until the end of the war for Shifty to make her the happiest girl in the world. Alone in their hotel room, with nothing but a slant of moonlight that sneaks in through the crack in the curtains, they make up for all their lost time.

The next morning, they discover that the towels in the bathroom are just as fluffy as the bedding. The soft, white fabric leaves little trails of fuzz covering their bodies, and they giggle as they gently swat each other, trying to remove it.

Putting on her uniform after the night they have feels strange. For a day, she’s been Zenie again. Her performance has enjoyed an intermission. Now, as they wander the streets of Paris one last time before boarding the train that will take them back to Mourmelon-le-Grand, she’s stepping back into her role and heading into the second act as a changed woman.

Changed for the better, she hopes.

#band of brothers fanfic #shifty powers #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers x original female character #band of brothers #band of brothers x ofc #oc zenie mcglamery #my writing #like a girl (like a man)

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amorhedera6 · 5 months

Text

i’m giving everyone lore bc i can’t help myself sorry not sorry.

(ruth’s tragic backstory under the cut)

ruth joleigh flemming is the second born child of five. her older brother, nathaniel, is two years older than her. he is the family golden child that does no wrong, he got all the good genes, attractive, taller. he played baseball and was popular in high school. in the hallways he would pretend not to see her, refused to acknowledge her, made her walk home when he drove his friends so he wouldn’t be associated with her. he’s their parents favorite and can do nothing wrong.

ruth on the other hand is only useful of invisible. she is given the most chores, is asked to watch her younger siblings constantly, expected to follow a curfew nathaniel never had. her parents marriage follows traditional gender roles, roles they push fiercely into their children, and ruth is put to work the most. she’s not allowed to drive her parents car when nathaniel was, etc.

her next sibling, henry, is three years younger than her. he is kinder than nathaniel, also often invisible to their parents, for he is more academic than his older brother. he likes science and is always holed up in his room working on smothering or other. he loves animals and learning about them, wants to be a vet. he and ruth walk home with richie every day (bc richie lives a few houses down). he’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself.

after henry is melanie, who’s only a year younger. she also has a lot of expectations on her to be a good girl, good wife, etc. all that sexist, 50s house wife bullshit. ruth tries to shield her from it by doing most of the work, but melanie is a better, less sarcastic help in the kitchen, so she often had to help their mom with the food. she does gymnastics, is really good at too, but her parents write it off as just a hobby. she could do really well professionally if her parents took it seriously.

the youngest is harvey, who’s two years younger than melanie. he does a lot of sports, but all of them in the kid way where he doesn’t really do anything. he likes soccer the best, and wants to continue that when he gets older. he’s a boy scout and plays a lot of video games. he’s the stereotype of the youngest sibling, he gets whatever he wants and doesn’t realize it.

ruth was put in dance at 4 because her mother danced as a kid, and she absolutely loved it. ballet and tap, but she wasn’t graceful enough for ballet. tap she stuck with for a long time. she had this class with peter, who she became friends with at like 12ish. she was expected to be a dancer because it was feminine and quiet and all that shit, so she became insecure about her loudness and lonely. she quit dance in her freshman year when she was picked for a dance solo and had a panic attack on stage.

she fell in love with theatre and joined the tech booth. she wanted to perform, but couldn’t get herself back on stage after what happened. she watched the shows from the back of the auditorium with jealousy.

she knew she was bi watching shake it up bc she fell in love w zendaya at 8. she never told her parents bc she knew it wasn’t worth the hassle. she knows they won’t believe her, will think it’s a phase, and thinks it’s better to just leave it all alone. it’s not like she’s ever getting a girlfriend anyways.

she hates wearing skirts, but if she goes like two weeks wearing just pants her mom sits her down and talks to her about being a proper lady. she’d rather just wear them then hear any of it. she wears a skirt every other thursday and it’s enough that her parents only give her looks instead of actually talking to her.

she likes star wars, absolutely hated the choices made in the new ones but watches them anyway bc the people are all hot. she has star wars merch and shit in her room but not too much bc it’s a “boyish” interest.

she had long dark curls her whole life, hates them. hates managing them, hates the curl routine, hates having such long hair, so in a fit of rage had richie and pete chop it all off in the middle of the night her sophomore year. she got it touched up by her moms hairdresser, but refuses to let it grow any more.

she got her headgear the summer before eighth grade, when she was 13, and has had it ever since. she despises it, but refuses to admit it to anyone but richie and peter. she owns it, matches her clothes to it, acts like she doesn’t give a shit when people call her metalhead or something equally uncreative.

she inherited her fathers anger issues. she keeps a lot of it inside bc she hates social interaction if she isn’t close to a person, but it makes her have a lot of hate for people who annoy her. like trevor, who always mixes up his cue lines and makes her look bad. or caitlin, who likes to spend her breaks annoying ruth in the tech booth.

(caitlin actually has a crush on ruth and has for years, but ruth’s so annoyed with someone pose being in her safe space that she can’t tell she’s being flirted with.)

her parents don’t want her to work, so she can spend time at the house looking after her siblings, cleaning, and all that, so she doesn’t have a job. her parents also don’t want her to go to college, since they think it’s unnecessary. she still applied to schools all over the country to get the fuck out of hatchetfield. she’s marked her major down as math, since she’s okay at it, but she has no interest in doing it with her life. she has no idea what she wants to do. (that’s not true. she wants to act. dance. perform. but she has absolutely no faith in herself, her talent, her ability to overcome her anxiety, so. math it is.)

she’s never told anyone this, she’s ignoring it and pretending she didn’t, but she did send a self tape to a drama school in california. she hasn’t heard back, though.

her favorite color is red, which is why she picked it for her headgear when they made her chose. she likes it because she can get away with wearing it in masculine ways since it’s close enough to pink, but it also represents fire, anger. she thinks color theory is super interesting. she had to learn it when her mom made her learn about flowers, and the flowers part bored her to death, but she loves colors.

her father is named walter, he’s a business executive about thirty years older than her mother. her mother, doreen, wants desperately to be a stay at home mom, but they can’t afford it, so she works at a flower shop. she says that if you must work in life, it might as well be a position for a lady. she still makes dinner every night. she only wears dresses and heels. sometimes ruth thinks her mother was brainwashed or something.

because ruth’s sanctuary is her grandparents. her mothers parents are not at all the stereotypical housewife/working husband couple. they are fiercely strong and interesting people with interesting stories to tell. from their stories, her mom used to be the same way, at one point. she went to college for prelaw, and dropped out her sophomore year after meeting walter. they say she changed a lot, but they don’t talk about it enough for ruth to get real details. she can only pull them by their teeth if they have a lot to drink, which they don’t often do. it’s a mystery shes piecing together slowly.

she knows her parents don’t care about her much. they don’t give a shit about her grades, never go to parent teacher conference night, stopped going to her dance recitals when she was ten, never came to one of the shows she worked on with the school. she was only ever scolded but never really treated like their daughter, more like a misbehaving help they need to set right.

they never hit her, but she’s well aware she’ll be fucked up forever. she is counting down the days until she gets to college and she can get a tattoo and burn her skirts and go to therapy. she loves her friends, and her siblings (most of the time), but she despises hatchetfield and her parents.

she can’t wait to get out.

(she never gets out.)

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ailelie · 5 months

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I really love how the new Magnum PI handled Abby.

Backstory: Thomas Magnum lives on the large, Hawaiian estate of the man who turned his life into bestselling novels. The estate is managed by Julia Higgins, former MI6 agent, now majordomo. Their relationship is rather antagonistic at the start, but develops into mostly fond antagonism with a steel core of mutual trust.

Other than some looks when one realizes "oh, this person is more than I thought" (mostly on Higgins' side), this is not portrayed romantically. When they feign to be a couple for a job, nothing is played for romance. In fact, they discuss dating. Higgins helps Magnum make up with Abby (who he had gone on a date with as a persona for a job). When Higgins has a date, Magnum only asks to tag along because it is with a baseball player he admires.

At the same time, they are growing increasingly in sync and it is developing into a lovely "everyone sees it but them" scenario.

So, Abby, begins to notice this at the end of season 1, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't question Magnum or make demands of him. She recognizes that Magnum/Higgins isn't a thing and that Magnum would never be unfaithful (especially not after his experience with his former fiancee), but she also sees that Higgins is very important to him.

In season 2, Abby realizes that a man she helped defend (to the point of a hung jury) is guilty (his newly published book contains details she'd known, but had never shared with him). Enlisting Magnum's help (to be fair, it isn't her who asks and she does tell him she wishes he hadn't said 'yes') and helping Magnum goad her client into revealing where he buried the bodies go against her ethics as a lawyer. (She even tells Magnum at one point. He says that putting the author in prison is the right thing to do. She replies "Morally? Yes. Ethically? No.")

At the end of the case, her license is revoked. She tells Magnum she is moving to the mainland to open a pro bono legal clinic (and points out that she can no longer practice in Hawaii). He immediately starts strategizing for long distance, but she stops him.

I don't think this case was a test, but I think, after it was over, Abby reflected on it as if it were--not of Magnum, but of herself. If she stays, her life would be like that case over and over again. She would have to find a way to fit into the private eye business alongside Magnum and his new partner, Higgins.

(Magnum had spent the last few episodes campaigning Higgins to become his partner in the business, rather than just the person he hit up for technological favors and occasional back-up).

I think she realized that they could work, but working required sacrifices of her own identity she wasn't willing to make to fit into a mold someone else (Higgins) was already occupying.

She tells Magnum "good-bye" and that he'll find his match, that the perfect person for him is closer than he thinks. Then she leaves.

I love this because Abby/Magnum was a fun pairing and Abby did not leave Magnum because his job was too dangerous or he wasn't who she thought or she was jealous of Higgins. Instead, she leaves because (a) she has to if she wants to keep practicing the law, and (2) she realizes they aren't right for each other, that fitting into each other's worlds would require too many changes.

She is never villainized. She is always classy. Her relationship with Magnum was super in the background, but it mattered to them both. It just wasn't the right relationship for either of them.

#magnum pi #thomas magnum #abby miller

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atths--twice · 1 year

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A Surprise, a Birthday, and the Constellations

It's Mulder's birthday and after the night spent on a baseball field for her own birthday celebration, Scully has a special surprise planned for him.

In December, a tweet was posted by @gabby-msr that read: "Mulder teaches Scully to play baseball for her "birthday." What do you think Scully would teach Mulder for his "birthday"?"

@tofuttim tweeted back with a fabulous idea: "How to navigate the seas with the stars which she learned from her father when she was younger."

I LOVED that idea and added a bit to it. As a result, she approached me with the idea to collaborate on a story.

Well... we did, @tofuttim and I! It has been incredibly fun to write, working together and sharing ideas. We hope you all enjoy this sweet and fluffy little story. 💓

Scully sat alone at the desk in their basement office. Mulder was running down a lead and would not be back for another fifteen minutes. The moment of solitude would prove to be a perfect opportunity to go over the plans she had set in place for tomorrow evening.

She reached into her suit jacket pocket and pulled out a list. With a pencil in hand, she went through each item carefully making sure she did not miss any details. If she was going to pull this off, she would expect nothing less than perfection. She recited the handwritten inventory softly to herself:

Telescope, check Boat rental, check Whites Ferry Boat Ramp, check Compass, check Dad’s October night sky star map, check Lone gunmen, check Sea sickness medicine, check Birthday cake, pick up tomorrow at 8:00 am

After Mulder had surprised her with either her very early or very late birthday baseball lesson, she knew then she had wanted to do something special for him in return. To an outsider, his gesture might have seemed inattentive or ordinary, but Scully understood just how significant the act was. It was an expression of devotion, admiration and a long standing partnership built on trust.

Possibly more, she thought.

She picked up the phone and dialed the Lone Gunmen’s secure line and a familiar voice radiated through the phone.

“Frohike.”

“Frohike, it's me. Am I on speaker phone?”

“Yes you are, little lady.”

“Good. I'm just double checking to make sure you all have everything in place for tomorrow night.”

“Don't sweat it, sister. We have it all planned out. Mulder doesn't suspect a thing.”

“Good. I need this to go down perfectly, Frohike. There’s no room here for error. You know how intuitive Mulder is, he can't catch onto the plan. You boys need to be on top of your game.”

“We got your back, G-woman. Langly has Mulder believing we are taking him to visit a couple who have befriended a Sasquatch child.”

“A… what?” she asked and then shook her head, closing her eyes . “You know what, forget I asked.”

“Byers even created a fake email correspondence to make it all believable,” Frohike continued with a chuckle as Byers shouted out from the background.

“Don’t worry, Scully. We won't let you down!”

Scully took a deep breath of relief and nodded, opening her eyes.

“Perfect. Have him at the boat ramp a little before dusk, so let's say… five? Five thirty latest?”

“You got it. Oh… and Scully, I know I don't have to tell you, but this is going to blow our boy’s socks off. I don't think anyone has ever done anything like this for him… ever. Thanks for putting this together.”

Scully smiled into the phone, always appreciating Frohike’s candor.

“Don't thank me yet. We still have fifteen hours to go without spoiling the surprise.” She glanced at her watch. Mulder was due back soon. “Gotta go, boys. Thanks again.”

She hung up the phone, but not before she received a bye in perfect unison from all three gunmen and she laughed silently, but then she sighed. Her heart hurt thinking about Frohike’s words, but it only solidified her resolve to plan and execute the perfect birthday surprise for Mulder.

Failure was not an option.

Five minutes later, the basement office door swung open and Mulder, clearly exasperated but full of kinetic energy, shuffled into the room. He plopped down in Scully’s chair and grabbed some sunflower seeds out of his suit pocket, tilted his head back, and popped a few into his mouth.

She always admired Mulder’s ability to enter a room with confidence, no matter his mood. She sat at his desk, her arms crossed as she checked him out.

He was wearing his blue button down shirt, her favorite, sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing his toned forearms. She could not help but think how incredibly handsome he looked.

Clearing her throat, she hoped her reddened cheeks had not given her thoughts away as he sighed deeply, his neck resting on the back of the chair.

“Dead end, Scully,” he said in a glib voice.

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she said sincerely and then hurried on. “Would you mind if I head out a little early? I… uh… have some things I need to do.”

“Reallyyy?” he asked with a slight spike in his voice as he raised his head and an eyebrow. “What's so important that it can’t wait? Anything I can help with?”

She could tell she had piqued his interest. She knew her partner well enough to know, if she stayed any longer, his line of questioning would become more invasive and given the opportunity, he would be able to poke holes in any story she came up with of why she needed to leave early. She had come this far and she certainly was not going to be the reason the surprise was spoiled now.

“No, Mulder, but thank you.” She stood up quickly and walked around the desk to leave. Pausing beside him, she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Night, Mulder. See you later.”

Scully held her breath all the way down the basement hallway, certain he would catch up and deter her. When she finally made it into the elevator, she leaned against the railing and slumped her shoulders, letting out a deep sigh of relief when she did not see him.

This might just work, she thought, grinning to herself as the elevator doors shut.

___________

Mulder turned and watched Scully as she left the office. He found himself stealing glances and watching her more often than he probably should be. But who could blame him. Scully was stunningly beautiful and he could not help it.

But she was more than that, he thought, letting out a deep sigh.

When she shut the door behind her, he slumped down in the chair again, slightly disappointed. He knew he should not be because he was aware that he was the worst when it came to remembering important dates. But not Scully, not by a long shot. She always remembered special occasions.

His birthday was tomorrow, and he thought she would have mentioned it, especially considering he would be taking a personal day tomorrow and would not be in the office.

He had taken the day off to spend it with the Gunmen. They had called him, talking excitedly about a lead on a juvenile Sasquatch and had invited him along to authenticate the claim, to which he had happily agreed.

But deep down, he had hoped Scully might have asked him to a birthday lunch or even better, dinner and drinks. He would have gladly canceled any and all plans, if Scully had even hinted at either option.

One could only hope.

He stood up and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, letting out another loud sigh. He tinkered around the office for another thirty minutes then decided to head home to his apartment. Patting his pants pockets, checking to make sure he had his car keys, he gathered up some case files from his desk and headed out the office.

Turning off the lights, he shut and locked the door behind him, wondering if Scully would think to call him tomorrow and wish him a happy birthday.

_______________

Scully opened her eyes before the morning sun had a chance to greet her through her bedroom window. She rolled over onto her side, peeked at her alarm clock and rubbed her eyes.

6:00. Ahead of schedule, she thought.

She could hardly blame herself for waking up so early, as she was far too wired to sleep.

Wired and excited.

Today was October thirteenth, Mulder’s birthday. She smiled as she sat up and reached for her phone to call him, hoping he was still sleeping and not awake at this early hour. If he answered, it might jeopardize the surprise, as he might suggest that they meet for breakfast or possibly lunch. She dialed his number and when it went straight to his answering machine she was instantly relieved.

“Mulder, it's me. Happy birthday. Enjoy your day off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She ended the call and put her phone down on the nightstand. Making her way to the bathroom to take a quick shower, she thought of her plan, mentally checking through her list once more and pausing on the star map with a smile.

When she was a little girl, her father had told her stories of sailors using maritime constellation maps to navigate the seas at night. Seafarers would create maps of the stars during the different seasons. With the constellations as their guide, ships were able to stay the course throughout the night.

One particular story always stood out to her and she would often ask her father to recite it, though she knew it by heart, which he would with a chuckle.

A young sea captain and his small crew of sailors were lost at sea one October night. He was newly married and had been gone from his pregnant bride for several months. The young captain used the constellations as a guide to steer his ship and crew back on course, bringing them home safely. The captain made it home in time to see the birth of their first child, which they named Corona, after the star cluster he tracked at night.

With that story in mind, she had come up with the idea to rent a boat and take Mulder out to “sea” to stargaze using the old maritime constellation map as a guide. Her father had given it to her years ago, smiling as he told her to “use it wisely.”

Scully could not help but think of his words as she also thought once again how employing the constellations as guides to navigate the seas at night was both romantic and pragmatic. She knew when she told Mulder the story she had loved as a girl, he would appreciate the juxtaposition of science and intuition.

However grand her plan though, she knew a trip to the actual ocean would be too far, and so the Potomac River, which admittedly was enchanting at night during this time of year, was the next best thing.

The river was large, but also close to the city lights and she had needed to find a section on the river that was away from the city to have a better view of the stars. Whites Ferry public boat ramp proved to be the closest spot, without going too far out. It was only two hours away on the Maryland-Virginia border and it offered stunning views of the stars at night.

It would be the perfect setting for her birthday surprise.

As an FBI agent, there were certain perks one could take advantage of and under the circumstances, she was not too ashamed to admit she had pulled a few strings to rent a boat. Everything was in order and going as she had planned and thanks to the help of the Gunmen, Mulder was still none the wiser.

She finished getting ready, smiling as she headed out to pick up some last minute things, including Mulder’s birthday cake, then she set out to pull off what could arguably be the biggest surprise of Mulder’s life.

_________________

Mulder woke to the sound of knocking. Startled, he instinctively reached over to his coffee table feeling for his glock.

Less groggy as he began to remember his plans for the day, he put his gun back on the coffee table with a sigh and sat up on the couch. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood, taking a second to stretch.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Mulder, it's us. Open up.”

“Alright, alright… give it a rest. I’m coming.”

He dragged his feet to his apartment door and unlocked the deadbolt, turning around to head back to his bedroom.

“It's open, fellas.”

The door opened and the three Gunmen entered his apartment like a hurricane. Mulder turned around, gesturing in the air as he opened his bedroom door, and looked at them.

“Guys, it's early. Can you not be so… you?”

“Sorry, buddy. Langly doubled our expresso this morning,” Byers said apologetically and Mulder rolled his eyes.

“I'm going to hop in the shower. Don’t break anything while I'm gone.”

He smiled to himself as he turned on the shower, shucking his clothes as the water warmed up, thinking about the three grown men in his living room who were now trying very hard to heed his warning.

___________

Frohike paced the apartment while Byers and Langley sat on Mulder’s couch. All three exchanged glances. Frohike looked at his buddies, tapping his watch with a nod.

“This has gotta work,” he said. “We can't let the little lady down.”

“You know, Frohike,” Langly said, his knee bouncing from too much caffeine. “I think you just might be the only person who can get away with calling Scully little lady and still be walking upright.”

“What can I say, boys? I can’t help it if I’m her favorite.”

“Yeah,” Langly snorted. “Whatever.”

“You’re just jealous, hippie.”

“Alright,” Byers said, glancing at his own watch. “We get Mulder out of here as soon as he’s ready. Grab a bite and get a move on.”

“No fucking around,” Langly added and Byers shrugged.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied as Langley stood up to peruse Mulder’s video collection.

“But it was implied,” Langley said and Byers nodded.

“T-minus twenty minutes, fellas,” Frohike said and they all nodded.

____________

Scully stepped onto the boat, setting down the last bag of items she had brought with her and sighed as she looked around.

It was a beautiful fall day, the air crisp and the sun bright. It would be a perfect night for stargazing later, so long as the clouds continued to stay nonexistent.

Taking off her coat, the sun and recent activities warming her, she set about preparing for her trip down the river and Mulder’s eventual arrival, smiling as her stomach gave a little lurch of excitement.

___________

“Are you guys sure about this couple?” Mulder asked, sitting in the Gunmen’s van, staring at the park bench where the couple had agreed to meet with information about the Sasquatch child.

“Yeah. They said they would be here. We just need to wait.”

“They said at one. It’s almost two thirty now,” Mulder said skeptically. “I think they’re gonna be a no show, if they were ever the real deal to begin with.” He sighed and shook his head.

“Hey, man, don’t say that,” Frohike said, glancing quickly at Byers. “Sometimes it takes time. You know how people can be.”

“I can try and call them. They gave me a number,” Byers suggested and Mulder shook his head.

“Nah. Pretty sure that will be a bogus number. I had a feeling this was too good to be true.”

“I’ll try it, let me see.”

Just as Byers took out his phone, it rang and they all looked at one another.

“Hello? Yes? It’s Byers, yes. Okay. Where?” He looked at his watch and nodded. “Yeah, we can be there in… a couple of hours. You have the… oh. Yeah, I understand. Yes. Okay. Thank you. Good… bye,” he said, looking at his phone before hanging up. “Well, that was them. They said they were here, but there were too many people around. That they felt nervous.”

“So what do they want? Where do they want to meet?” Mulder asked, feeling both annoyance and excitement at the possibility of speaking to them.

“Whites Ferry boat ramp,” Byers said and Langley nodded, taking out the map guide he kept under the seat and began searching for the quickest route to Whites Ferry.

“A boat?” Mulder moaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes with a sigh, already feeling seasick.

Byers looked at Frohike and they both smiled before Frohike jumped into the driver's seat, arguing with Langly as the other two put on their seatbelts.

_______________

Scully stood on the boat, her cell phone in her hand, tapping it against her thigh as she waited for it to ring once, announcing the arrival of Mulder and the Gunmen. Her mind scrolled through the rolodex of thoughts she had of the day and settled on the anticipation of what was to come.

Everything was ready, all she needed was Mulder.

Her phone rang and she jumped. When it did not ring again, she knew they had arrived and Mulder would soon be walking down the ramp. She slipped her phone into her pocket and grinned.

Staying out of sight, but standing where she could watch his arrival, she waited, her heart racing.

She saw him and she grinned, noting the excited trepidation on his face as he looked at the boat. The guys were not behind him, and would most likely already have driven away, as was the arrangement. She grinned again as she saw him sigh and then step onto the boat ramp.

“Hello?” he called out. “It’s Agent Mulder. You spoke with Byers earlier and said to meet here? Is it alright if I approach closer?”

“That would be ideal,” she said, stepping into view and smiling at him. He stared at her, stopping in his tracks.

“S… Scully? What…? How…?” he said, frowning as he shook his head. “But… I don’t understand.”

“Happy birthday, Mulder,” she said, stepping off the boat and onto the ramp.

“Birthday?”

“Yes. It is your birthday today, correct?” she teased and he nodded with a confused look on his face.

“But the…” He looked back toward the parking area and then back at her. “There was never a Sasquatch child, was there?”

“No,” she said with a smile, shaking her head.

“You planned this? The guys knew that you…?”

“They did.” He stared at her and she smiled again. “I needed time to get down here without you suspecting where I was for the day.”

“So you sent me on a snipe hunt?” he asked, a smile twitching at his lips.

“More or less,” she agreed with a nod.

“Okay… so, what’s the plan? I’m… They left didn’t they? Dropped me off and drove away?”

“They did.” She grinned and he nodded with a hum.

“I take it your car is not here and the only mode of transportation is this boat,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“Your assumptions are correct,” she said. “However, I did take into account your lack of sea legs. Or river legs, as it were. Hold on a second.”

She stepped back into the boat and picked up the sea bands she had bought, along with a bottle of water and the nausea pills. Stepping out again, she handed him the bottle of water.

“Here. Give me your arm.”

He held out an arm and she slipped the band onto his wrist, twisting it to the correct location. He switched the bottle of water into his other hand and she slid the band onto his opposite wrist, situating it as well.

“These are supposed to help with nausea, but I’m not entirely sold on them, so you should also take a pill to help it. Don’t want to ruin your birthday surprise by puking your guts into the river.” She smiled as she opened the bottle of pills and handed him one. “I think one should be enough. Don’t want you getting too drowsy.”

“I’d take drowsy over pukey any day,” he said, putting the pill in his mouth and opening the bottle of water. Drinking it down, he wiped his mouth and stared at her as he replaced the cap. “So a boat was the idea you had for my birthday surprise?”

“Yes,” she answered with a nod.

“Despite me needing all these precautions?” He looked down at his wrists and then back at her.

“Yes,” she said again and he hummed as he looked at the boat, a finger running across the band on his right wrist. “It’s something I love.”

“What?” he asked, looking back at her. She smiled as she turned her head to look out at the water.

“I’ve always loved the water. Boating. Sailing. It’s calming. My dad used to take us fishing when we were little. Sometimes the rocking would make me feel sleepy and he would laugh as I nodded off. There’s just something about it…” She looked at him again and she smiled softly. “You shared something you love with me for my birthday gift and I wanted to do the same for you. Yours just needed some… precautions.”

She glanced at his wrist bands and shook the bottle of pills and he chuckled.

“Well… then I suppose we should shove off,” he said and she nodded, excitement again stirring in her belly.

“You get in and I’ll take care of it.”

______________

Mulder smiled as he stepped into the boat, sitting down and watching Scully prepare the boat to leave. She was quick and sure as she untied the ropes and tossed the boat's bumpers from the outside of the boat into the inside. Giving it a good shove once she was finished, she hurried aboard, laughing as she did.

“When I was little,” she said, stepping to the steering wheel and turning the key to start the engine. “I was always the one to shove us off. Bill grumbled about it sometimes, saying it was a “man’s job” and my dad laughed, telling him to pipe down. I was the smallest and the quickest, not rocking the boat much when I jumped on.”

“I bet he hated hearing that,” Mulder said, smiling at her as she started backing up.

“He did indeed,” she laughed, turning the wheel when she had backed up far enough and then driving forward, not quickly, but at a comfortable pace.

“So this is my birthday present, huh? You shouldn’t have,” he said, remembering her words to him on a baseball diamond a few months back.

She looked at him with a smirk and he smiled as he looked up at the evening sky, the stars just beginning to come out.

“It’s not a Sasquatch child, I know, but…” she teased and he chuckled.

“It’s better,” he said softly, not looking at her, but watching her from the corner of his eye. He knew she had heard him above the sound of the motor by the way she glanced at him and he held back a smile.

Watching the water as they drove smoothly over it, he felt happier than he had in a long time. Especially on any birthday he’d ever had.

They did not really do birthdays, her and him, except the year when he had given her the Apollo Eleven keychain as they had shared dinner and drinks at The Headless Woman’s Pub.

They did not go there anymore, however. Not since Pendrell had been shot and then died. Scully said she would rather not eat there again, her eyes sad when he had suggested it one night.

No, they did not do birthdays. Yet this year… they were celebrating each other’s, sharing things they loved.

He turned his head and looked at her, admiring her profile and smiling at the small smile he saw on her lips.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat and adjusting the sea band on his wrist. “You had all the precautions. What’s the rest of the plan? Are we headed somewhere?”

“Not in particular,” she said with a shrug.

“Not to some rock in the middle of the river to have a good heart to heart?” he suggested and she laughed, the sound of it echoing out over the still water.

“I’m not planning on sinking another boat, no,” she stated, laughing again and he shrugged.

“That was Big Blue, Scully. Not your fault.”

“Mulder…” she said warningly and he nodded, looking around the boat.

“Where did you even get this boat?” he asked, standing up carefully and stepping toward the door to what he knew had to be a small cabin area.

“No. You don’t get to go down there,” she said, holding her hand out and stopping him from opening the door.

“What? Why not?”

“Because I said you can’t. Please sit back down.”

They stared at each other and she raised her eyebrows, her hand still blocking his access to the door.

“Is the Sasquatch child in there? Is that my surprise?” he teased and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. You figured it out. I’ve taken a forest dwelling cryptid from, not only its home, but its mother, and put it on a boat to take it for a cruise down the river. I thought it might enjoy being away from all it knows, locked in a cabin and waiting to be stared at by you with your crazy and excited eyes.” She stared at him and then rolled her eyes as she shook her head.

“Ah, Scully. You truly know the way to a man’s heart,” he said, covering his heart with both hands as he stepped back from the door, grinning at her. “I’ll do my best to act surprised when I see it.”

“You do that,” she said with a scoff and another roll of her eyes, shaking her head as she smiled. Putting up his hands, he sat back down and exhaled deeply.

“How did you get the boat though?” he asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“I have my ways,” she said, glancing at him quickly.

“The guys help you procure it?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm…” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Agent Lincoln actually helped me out,” she said and he sat up with a slight frown.

“Did he?” he asked, as he pictured the tall, sandy-haired agent. “How?”

“Well, he happened to overhear me on the phone and asked if I was trying to find a boat to rent. I said yes and he suggested a guy he knew. I called him up and told him what I needed and…” She gestured to the boat with another shrug.

“Just like that?”

“Well…” She smiled at him and then licked her lips. “I might have implied it was for official bureau business.”

“You lied?” he asked in mock incredulity, his mouth dropping open. “Agent Scully, I’m surprised at you.”

“It’s not exactly a lie. We are federal agents and if we don’t technically use it for a case, how will they know? Maybe the mere thought of it will be their new claim to fame. People are drawn to odd things.”

“Are you trying to imply something, Scully?”

“No,” she said, laughing and shaking her head.

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning back again, Agent Lincoln no longer a threat in his head. “I think people at the bureau would say otherwise about us working together.”

“No they wouldn’t, Mulder. They don’t find me odd.”

It was his turn to laugh, looking at her as she smiled at him, pushing the boat to go just a bit faster.

____________

“Are you feeling alright?” Scully asked, noticing he had his eyes closed.

“Hmm,” he hummed with a nod. “Not nauseated and only very slightly drowsy.”

“Well, I suppose that’s as good as it can be considering your shortcomings,” she teased and he huffed out a laugh, his eyes still closed.

She stared at him, his arms crossed and a smile on his lips, and she let out a quiet breath.

The memory of his arms around her as they shared a baseball bat, hitting balls out into the night sky and laughing happily, pushed its way to the front of her mind. It had been fun, silly, and perfect.

When she had left, her new suede coat, which was far too expensive, smelled of him. His cologne, deodorant, and him. The scent was simply Mulder, and one she would know anywhere. She had smelled her coat repeatedly, her stomach fluttering, until she had forced herself to stop, shaking her head at her almost childish behavior.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me. If we weren’t on the open sea… er river, without the fear of other vehicles close by, I’d be worried we might get into an accident.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, smiling roguishly. “You seem more confident on the water than you do on the road. Maybe it’s the lack of needing to move a seat to reach the pedals.”

“Mulder,” she warned.

“It’s a compliment,” he hurried to assure her and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You said it yourself, you've always loved the water. I think it’s obvious in your ability to maneuver on it so well.”

“I think that medicine may be affecting you more than you think,” she grumbled and he laughed.

“All I’m trying to imply is that you look as though you belong to the sea, I mean river. As if you’re a seafarer who has taken on a watery quest, ferrying a soul across the River Styx or some such important task.”

“Wow… You’ve taken anti-nausea pills before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Did it act as a truth serum as it seems to be doing tonight?”

He laughed again and shook his head.

“Nah. And it’s not from the pills. I thought it last time I watched you drive a boat. Just didn’t think to say it then.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, thinking of the last time they had been on a boat together. “Poor Queequeg.”

“Yeah,” he said softly as she sighed, her eyes on the water. He exhaled loudly and then hummed. “I understand what you were saying now. How you would find it sleep inducing when you were younger. Being on a boat, I mean.”

“You know, for a man who had a waterbed until very recently, I’m surprised that being on a boat makes you feel queasy, but that didn’t,” she said, giving him a look.

“Oh… it did at first. It took a while to become used to it, as the couch had always been just fine, especially with it being so nice and stationary,” he said with a chuckle. “What took longer to get used to though, were the mirrors on the ceiling. But once the waterbed busted, I took those down.”

“I’m sorry… what?” She looked at him, her brain trying to figure out if she had heard him correctly. “You… what?”

“Look, I didn’t put them there,” he said defensively, shaking his head. “They were just… suddenly there.”

“Mirrors. On your ceiling. They were just… there one day?”

“Yeah. Actually, it was the same day as the waterbed. Remember when we went to Nevada? By Area 51?”

“As if I could forget,” she scoffed.

“Well, when we came back, all of that stuff was there. And the apartment was spotless.”

“Did you order it all and you forgot?” she asked, her mind still on the mirrored ceiling, her thoughts racing at the images presenting themselves to her.

“Ha!” he laughed loudly, sitting forward and shaking his head again. “Do you think I seriously stood in my bedroom one day, looked at the ceiling and thought, you know what it needs in here? Mirrors. Really, Scully?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “Hearing you had a waterbed was quite shocking. This is… it’s…”

“Porny?” he asked with a grin.

“Well… I…”

“Believe me, it’s what I thought,” he said, standing up carefully and walking towards her. He stood beside her and leaned against the closed cabin door. “There can only be one reason people put mirrors on the ceiling, and it’s definitely not to stare at their own selves in bed.”

“But,” she said, swallowing hard, her throat dry. “You’ve taken them down now.”

“And without ever getting the true use out of them,” he said, sighing as he looked down and shook his head slowly.

“Oh?” she asked, her heart fluttering oddly at that information.

“Yeah,” he said, looking at her with a smile. “Now the only things up there are pencils, as it should be.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, her thoughts still on what those mirrors and what would have shown if she had been in his bed.

Stop it, she said to herself, shaking her head as if to get rid of those thoughts.

“Mulder, you never cease to amaze me,” she said, looking ahead and turning the wheel to the left, although it was not exactly needed.

“Because I took them down? Should I have kept them up and shown them to you first?”

Her breath caught, which she covered with a cough. She glanced at him and then looked away.

“No. That’s not what… I mean to each their own, but I… No,” she stuttered as the smile on his face grew and he nodded.

“Yeah, it was good I took them down.”

“You want to drive?” Scully asked, desperately wanting to change the subject. Stepping to the side slightly, she made some room for him.

“Hmm…” he said, quirking his mouth and then shaking his head. “Thank you, but no.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where we’re going for one, and for two…” He smiled, his eyes dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Seafaring Scully, on her mysterious quest, is enjoyable to behold.”

If they had been different people, a couple in some romantic fashion, she would have kissed him. Would have pulled him close and perhaps gotten a little handsy with him.

A lot handsy, she thought as the wind carried the scent of his cologne straight to her nose.

But they were not different people and so instead, she rolled her eyes as she took control of the wheel once again.

“I hope you’re not disappointed that there isn’t exactly a destination spot,” she said, suddenly worried that her idea would not live up to his expectations.

“Can’t imagine I’ll be disappointed,” he assured her as she looked at him.

“I… we just need to get a little further from the city lights.”

“Whatever you have planned, Scully, I’m completely… onboard. Starboard, actually.” He grinned and she chuckled softly.

“Technically, you’re port, as you’re to the left of me. I’m starboard.”

“Eh,” he said with a shrug. “Sasquatch. Bigfoot.”

Laughter burst from her, a deep belly laugh that made her lean forward over the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as her body shook from his incredibly corny words.

“Mulder…” she said, still laughing softly as she shook her head and he grinned at her, winking before he turned to look out at the water.

____________

Back in his seat now, Mulder hummed and he closed his eyes, the anti nausea medicine indeed causing him to feel tired. Added to the late hour he had gone to bed and his early morning visitors, he could have nodded off easily.

The engine cut off and he opened his eyes, looking over at Scully. She flipped a switch and he heard the anchor lowering. The boat rocked, and thankfully he found that it did not make him feel sick.

“I think the combination of the sea bands and the drugs you supplied are doing the job nicely,” he told her as he looked around and realized they were in a little cove.

“Good,” she said, opening the cabin door and turning on a light.

“Oh… can I go down there now? Am I allowed?”

“I suppose,” she said, rolling her eyes with a smile as she made her way down the ladder like steps.

He stood up and followed her down into the small cabin and looked around, his eyes falling on the kitchenette, small table, and the bed. Opening a door, he found a toilet and he nodded as he closed the door.

“You know, aside from the fact that I’d be on water, I think I could live like this- it’s simple, no fuss.”

“There’s no shower,” she stated as she took a large leather tube shaped item from the bed.

“We’re surrounded by water,” he replied and she gave him a disgusted look. He laughed as she shook her head. “Okay… I’d find some place and shower. It wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Hmm…” she hummed, shaking her head again. “I do love the water, but not enough to live on a boat. At least not one this size. It’s too small and the lack of a shower or tub, no thank you.”

“What do you have there?” he asked, pointing to the item she held.

“This…” she said with a smile, patting the tube. “This was a gift from my father. Something I’ve treasured, but haven’t had an opportunity to look at for quite awhile.”

“What is it?” he asked again, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s a constellation map,” she said, opening the tube and taking out the contents inside.

“What?” he asked, stepping closer as she unrolled the crinkly, but well preserved, paper out on the table.

It did not lay flat, so he looked behind him, taking spice containers from the rack secured to the wall and placing them on the paper, using them as paperweights.

“Thanks,” she murmured, smoothing the paper and letting out a sigh.

He glanced at her, seeing the soft smile on her face as she looked at the constellations drawn upon it. Looking back at the map, he saw some he recognized, but many that he did not know.

“You know, of course, that my father was in the Navy. He loved the sea, always speaking of it with great reverence.” She smiled again and he watched her trace the constellations, whispering their names softly. “He would tell us stories about when he was gone, but I would always pester him for different stories. There were many he knew, but one in particular was my favorite. I liked it for the romance of it, though I never would have admitted it, lest my brothers make fun of me.” She chuckled and he smiled with a nod of understanding.

“Tell me the story,” he said softly and she nodded.

“A young sea captain, who was newly married, was lost at sea with his crew one October night. They had already been gone for several months and while the crew was worried about their predicament, the captain's own thoughts were on his bride, who was pregnant with their first child.”

“Newly married… they worked fast,” Mulder murmured and she laughed quietly.

“Well, they’d had some time together before he left. Couple that with a lack of any type of protection and… well…” She smiled and he nodded as he raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“Please continue,” he said. “Did they make it home?”

“They did,” she said, tracing the constellations again. “The sea captain used the constellations as a guide to steer the ship, bringing himself and the crew home safely. He made it in time for the birth of his child, whom they named Corona, after the star cluster he had tracked that night, knowing that it would be the one to guide him home.

Mulder smiled as she turned her head to look at him with a smile of her own.

“That’s a really great story.”

“Yeah. One of my favorites,” she said, looking back at the map. “I would listen to it and imagine this young man who, when it was discovered that he was lost, felt it keenly and-”

“Well, not only himself, but the entire crew,” Mulder interrupted, picturing the ship of men under the starry sky. “Most likely most of them were his own age, possibly even younger. Boys who would have gone to sea because it called to them or they were looking for work. All of them had families of their own, in some form or another. I’m sure they were all scared, but didn’t want to show it.”

“Yeah,” Scully said softly. “Exactly.”

“And the captain, being an intelligent seafaring man, knew the stars and how to read them. He knew how to bring them where they needed to be.”

“Yes,” she said again, nodding slowly.

They stared at one another, each imagining the story from different perspectives.

Mulder could picture himself captaining the ship, bringing all of the lost souls home and hearing the relief and happiness in the voices of the mothers and sweethearts who had been waiting on land.

Scully had always gone back and forth in her thoughts, wanting to both be on the ship as it sailed on the open sea, and also waiting at home, walking the shore as she waited for her beloved husband to return.

Her romantic younger self had imagined the homecoming many times, caught up in the happiness. The sea captain had always looked similar to Tommy Shanahon, from down the street when they were stationed in San Diego, anytime she would think of the story.

Now, as she stood in the small boat cabin with Mulder, his eyes shining from the story, she could only see him as the captain as he stepped off the ship, his eyes locking on hers as he grinned and hurried to her side.

“So,” she said, turning abruptly and also taking a small step back from him, the image vanishing. “What I thought, for your gift, is that I could teach you how to navigate by constellations, like my father taught me. I could show you and you could guide us back home.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling broadly and nodding his head. “I would really like that. Show me what I need to know.”

______________

Scully watched Mulder as he slowed the boat down and stepped back to look up at the night sky, for at least the tenth time, and she smiled.

He had been very enthusiastic as she pointed out the different constellations on the map. He knew many of them, but not their precise locations. Using the map, holding it up and comparing what they were seeing, he grinned as he named the constellations.

“You sure you don’t want to use the telescope I brought?” she asked him again and he shook his head. “It would make it easier for you to see.”

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you,” he answered, as he continued looking up. “It wouldn’t be as authentic.” She smiled as she nodded and crossed her arms.

“Well, it’s here if you change your mind.”

“Thanks,” he said again, pointing up. “Hercules. He almost looks like he’s dancing, don’t you think? Some weird dance moves. Do you see it?” he asked and she nodded as she also looked up at the sky. “Bootes now… it looks like a giant kite. And Serpens, it reminds me of a… huh, a satellite dish.”

“A satellite dish?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Yeah, look,” he said, holding the map up as she took her flashlight from her pocket and shone the light on it. “See how it’s a triangle with a bendy line? Definitely a satellite dish.”

“Okay,” she had said, turning off the flashlight nodding.

“I think Corona was a perfect name for the captain’s child,” he said as he kept staring up at the sky. “Not just because it was the constellation he followed, but because of the shape of it.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, frowning as she tilted her head back, looking at the Corona constellation and then turning her head towards him.

“It’s almost shaped like a horseshoe,” he said, pointing again as he traced the air with his finger. “With the ends of it pointing up, a horseshoe represents good luck being collected. Even if the captain hadn’t known, or been overly superstitious, he followed the stars with a lucky symbol attached to it. It was destined to be.”

He smiled at her as he rolled up the map gently and went back to the steering wheel. Increasing the boat’s speed slowly, he hummed under his breath.

She looked at him and then back up at the sky. Her father had described the constellation as a crown, which was how she had always thought of it. But now, she did see it as a horseshoe shape and she found that she liked it better that way.

Turning her attention to the water, she closed her eyes briefly as the warm fall wind blew through her hair. Opening them, she stepped closer to Mulder.

“You’re quite the natural,” she said, her eyes traveling over him, liking the way he looked manning the boat.

“Thank you,” he said, glancing at her and she nodded as she watched him.

“You just need um…” Placing a hand on the steering wheel, she turned it slightly to the left. “Only a little this way.”

“Hmm, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They drove for a while, neither of them speaking, no other people out on the water, the city lights glowing dimly on the horizon.

“Imagine spending months on a ship,” Mulder said, breaking the silence.

“Didn’t you say earlier that you wouldn’t mind living on this boat, or one like it?” she teased and he nodded with a smile.

“True. But, me on my own is significantly different from a ship full of men. Especially as it wouldn't have a shower nor a toilet,” he said and she made a face.

“The air would undoubtedly be thick with the spice of men,” she stated and he laughed.

“I’m sure it was quite ripe,” he said. “But, I was actually thinking more along the lines of leaving your family behind. Your wife, children… I’m sure it was difficult.”

“It’s what my father did. What many men, and women, still do,” she said with a small shrug.

“Eh… I don’t see it that way, not exactly. With technology and more advanced vessels, it’s different,” he said, shaking his head.

“I suppose it is,” she said, thinking of the days when a ship would be gone for months, no word of where it was at times. Mothers, wives, and children not knowing if their son or father would return.

Again silence fell between them, her thoughts staying on the young captain, confidently following the stars that he knew would lead him home.

Though her journey to meet him at the ferry had felt longer, it seemed that it only took half the time to reach the harbor where she had rented the boat. Switching places, as Mulder was not accustomed to docking a boat, he followed her instructions to ready it, jumping out to help lead it in and tie the rope to the cleats in the front and back.

He grinned at her as he stepped back onboard, quite proud of himself.

She gathered everything up, including the small cake she had purchased for him. Placing it in a bag, she turned the lights off and left the cabin.

Dropping the keys in the after hours box as she had been instructed to do, she turned to Mulder and smiled.

“So… you had fun?”

“I did,” he said with a grin. “Much more than I had anticipated when I realized we would be spending time on the water.” He took off the sea bands and put them into his pocket. “They look and feel a little strange, but I think they worked really well.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said with a chuckle. “I do have something else for you.”

“Is it a keychain?” he teased.

“It is not,” she said, laughing again.

“An alien implant?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes and pointed to the picnic table underneath a street lamp a few feet away. “Let’s go sit down and I’ll give it to you.” He turned, walking ahead of her, and she smiled as she followed.

“It’s not exactly a gift,” she said, placing the bag on the table and taking out the cake. “But, it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

“Ohhh…” he said, sitting at the table and leaning forward with interest. “Is it chocolate?”

“Of course. But… wait.”

She opened the lid and then took out the sparklers she had also purchased. Pushing them down into the cake, she lit them with a lighter. They popped and sparked as she pushed it towards him.

She watched his face as he saw the decorations on the cake, highlighted by the glow of the sparklers. Looking up at her, his expression unreadable, he looked back at the cake and shook his head.

It was plain, with only vanilla frosting. On the top however, she’d had the bakery write Happy Birthday in brown icing. It also had a design, depicting their evening. A brown boat sat on blue water, the moon and stars above it. One constellation hung above the boat, a horseshoe crown shaped constellation, the yellow points placed in the exact locations.

“Scully,” he said softly as the sparklers continued to pop and spark.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered and he looked up at her again. She smiled and he sighed as he stood up and extracted himself from the table.

Standing in front of her, he shook his head and then pulled her to him, surprising her as he held her tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For everything today. I… It’s the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Surely not ever?” she asked with a small laugh, trying to lighten the sudden heavy feeling.

He pulled back, holding her upper arms gently as he nodded his head.

“Ever,” he assured her. “It was thoughtful and surprising. I never would have anticipated it. Thank you, Scully.” He pulled her close again and she sighed as she hugged him back, closing her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.

They both heard the sparklers fizzle out and they laughed softly as they broke apart, glancing at the cake before looking at each other and smiling.

He cupped her cheek, his thumb running gently across it. She drew in a breath as he dipped his head and kissed her cheekbone, just above his thumb. Her eyes closed as he kissed her again and her stomach fluttered.

When he pulled back, she opened her eyes and let out a slow breath. His eyes dropped to her lips and she nodded ever so slightly. A smile pulled at his lips and then they were pressed to her own in a soft, slow kiss. Twice more he kissed her in the same fashion and then he pulled back, searching her face.

She smiled, her heart racing, and he grinned back.

“Well… let’s see if this cake tastes as good as it looks,” he said and she laughed with a nod. He caressed her cheek as he dropped his hand and they stepped back from each other.

He sat back down and took the spent sparklers from the cake as she took out the knife, plates, and forks from inside the bag. Cutting them each a generous slice, she handed him the piece with the Corona constellation. He smiled as he picked up his fork and took a bite, humming his approval.

She sat beside him and took a bite of the cake, which was indeed very good, but her thoughts were not on the sweet taste of it.

No, she thought only of the kisses they had just shared, the softness of his lips, and the gentle touch of his thumb against her cheek.

His knee bumped her leg and she glanced at him with a smile.

“If there’s an iced tea in that bag of yours…” he said, looking at it and raising his eyebrows. She laughed softly, reaching for the bag and taking out a bottle of iced tea. “Ahh, Scully. This birthday just keeps getting better and better.”

She laughed again as he opened it, took a long drink and then offered it to her. She accepted it and took a drink as he reached for the cake and cut himself another slice.

“Did I ever tell you about the Lizard Man in South Carolina?” he asked as she set the bottle of iced tea down.

She rolled her eyes with a quiet groan as he took a bite and began speaking. Tipping her head back, she looked skyward and sighed, ready to debate him about the scientific impossibility of a lizard man.

The Corona constellation was directly above them and she smiled. As it twinkled, she changed her mind, deciding to let him talk for as long as he wanted about whatever he wanted. She could wait until tomorrow to discuss the inaccuracies.

It was his birthday after all.

#the x files #xf fanfic #season 7 #birthday surprises #boats #constellations #stars #seasickness #teasing and flirting #fluff #birthday fluff #msr #happy #romantic fluff

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