#this is so confusing to me because i was planning to connect my mac to a hdmi and then connects it to the tv in the living room

[emmafallsinlove]

has anyone knows how to open a mega file in macbook pro? i've downloaded the eras tour movie but i cannot get it open, meanwhile it works perfectly fine on windows.

[heaux-burrow]

little talks

“It’s not for nothing that I long for you: It’s that others love my smile only—you love even my tears. It’s not for nothing that I wait for you: It’s that others love only my health—you love even my death.” — Han Yong’un, from Love’s Reasons;

pairing: eddie munson x chrissy cunningham summary: in the wake of spring break, eddie finds himself talking to ghosts... inspired by this post by @bettercallmaul (Eddie lives AU I GUESS 😤 - wrote this before I watched the finale) playlist

~~~

She remembers screaming. Loud enough to shake the windows. High enough in pitch that her own ears had throbbed as if a needle pierced them.  

How could they think it was Eddie that had hurt her? Why had anyone allowed Jason to just… turn vigilante and hunt him down like a rabid dog? 

She remembers trying desperately to throw a vase full of lilies in her mother’s church after the funeral. 

Stop!

To kick a chair across the police station. 

Leave him alone!

To throttle Jason with her bare hands as he used her name to justify his vitriol. She’s never been so angry before. Never been so filled up with rage. But then again, she’s never cared about anyone like she does Eddie. 

He’s the only one who ever really saw me. Just leave him alone. Being so far away from him is hard enough, why are you wrapping the grief around his neck like a noose? 

But her fingers and her feet had slipped through the vase. And the chair. And Jason with every attempt. And her screams fell on deaf ears. Because she was no longer a girl. Nothing more than sand slipping through fingers. Nothing more than a shadow choking on her own silence.  

So she stayed. Stubbornly, she clung to Hawkins, refusing to abandon him… even if it did him no good at all. 

~~~

The first time, it's just a flash.

So brief he'd convinced himself it had been a trick of the light. An aftershock of all the trauma their small town's youth had collectively experienced in the past month.But despite the fear he'd felt, Eddie found himself replaying the moment anyway. A song he didn't want to let out of his head. A scratch in the record he couldn't bring himself to move the needle off of. And it was so easy because it had been so clear. Felt so real.

Chrissy, alive and bright and dewy with sunshine. Chrissy, sat in the passenger seat of Shadowfax (his beloved van), one hand out the window as her fingers played elegantly through the wind. Chrissy, humming along to the tape he'd had in his deck as he drove north. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac bled from his speakers (lately, he'd been coming back to the records his mother had played around their shitty apartment in Detroit - the songs he'd longed to introduce Chrissy to for years, knowing, just knowing that her parents listened to shit like Donna Summers and ABBA).

He'd nearly driven right off the road, tires screeching as he went careening onto the shoulder of the 109. Body trembling and breath coming heavy, it had been a moment before he'd actually mustered the bravery to look over again. But all that was next to him was a pane of sunshine filtering in from the open window.

~~~

It took several joints to calm his nerves after that day.

The distraction of playing a show at a shitty downtown Chicago bar helps. He's started picking up side gigs. Filling in across the mid-west where guitarists are needed. Partly for the extra cash and partly for the connections he's able to network in the gig circuit. But if he's honest, it's not actually about any of those things. It's the distraction they provide.

He can't just sit in his bedroom in Hawkins like nothing happened. Focusing on one singular task at a time has never been his strong suit, but now it's impossible. Even trying to plan the new D&D campaign for Hellfire has proven a mountain that refuses to be scaled. Every time he takes out his kit, all he sees is the little Vecna statuette and he falls down a dizzying rabbit hole of confused, frustrated fury.

There are perks to this in a way. Gigs don't just provide an opportunity to showcase his talent with a guitar, they're the best venue to move product. He's never had so much money in his life. Sometimes, he takes the wads of cash out from the plastic bag they sit in, hidden in the toilet tank of the trailer bathroom, just to stare at it.

He won't put it in a bank. His uncle has warned him of that, since the money isn't legal. But the bathroom is as good a savings account as any. What's left over after he pays Wayne rent and buys flowers for Chrissy's grave goes right in this little bag.

Sometimes he feels foolish sitting at her grave, talking to her as he picks the thorns off pink roses. He knows she's not really there. She can't be. And even if she was, the handful of moments they'd shared didn't exactly entitle him to mourn for her. But the grief was there, all the same. It was there because she wasn't.

~~~

The second time is at a show and he knows it's because he's high as a kite.

The little redhead in the crowd can't be her. It just can't be. Those can't be her big, storm blue eyes staring up at him. He knows, because Vecna took her eyes. His favorite thing about her had always been her eyes.

After his set, he follows the girl through the crowd, leaving his precious Freya up on stage for the band he's with tonight to worry about. He's never left Freya on her own in his life but this girl looks exactly like…

"Chrissy!" The air outside in the alley feels cool after the heat of a packed dive bar. But all he can see is her short skirt. Her long slender legs. Her beautiful red hair.

When she turns to face him on the steps that lead down from the alley door, there's a mischievous smile twitching at her mouth. Then suddenly, she's kissing him and it feels as if there's snow falling and Christmas lights switching on and...

He reaches to grip her slender waist, but his fist closes around air. Eyes fluttering open, Eddie staggers back. He had felt her. He had felt her body heat. Heard her breathing. Tasted her strawberry chapstick. What the fuck had been in that bong he'd hit in the green room?

Brows knit together in determination, he heads back inside, wondering if he can't find some more.

~~~

The third time is very much on purpose. 

He waits until his uncle has left for the night, then lays out candles across the small coffee table and sits on the floor. Hands trembling, Eddie swallows hard against the tight ball of tension knotted in his throat. The woman he’d bought the ouija board from had warned him not to attempt this alone. But who could he possibly confess his delusions to? Or worse, that he was chasing after them rather than trying to rationalize them. 

For a long while, he just watches the candles burn. Glances up to where the scar of a long-since closed portal has been spray painted in a whitish gray that clearly doesn’t match the rest of the ceiling. He can still see her floating there. Can still hear her bones snapping. The whites of her eyes…her beautiful blue eyes… stolen. 

Wiping the sweat of his palms across black denim jeans, he shakes his hands out, trying to dispel the anxiety keeping his desperation locked up tight. 

“Come on, man.” He mutters to himself. “You can walk into another dimension strapped like fuckin’ Rambo. You can do this.” 

Closing his eyes, his fingertips rest on the edges of the planchet. 

“Chrissy? If you’re there… fuck, just… please give me a sign?” The words stumble out, unsure and half embarrassed.

A silence thick with his own cloying desperation follows. Dust floats lazily through the beams of moonlight slanting across the living room. Feeling like an idiot, Eddie lets go of the planchet and lets his head fall back onto the couch behind him. Letting out a slow breath, he drags his hands through his hair, tempted to pull some out in frustration. 

“God damn it, baby…just talk to me.” No longer guessing at what he’s supposed to say, this more surefooted tone seems to allow the energy in the room to shift. The dust by the window seems to swirl up into curls for a moment and he swears he hears a giggle brush by his ear just as a soft rush of wind blows the candles out, leaving him sat in the dark. His pulse climbs like a balloon full of hot air and his posture straightens just in time to catch the planchet slide over the word ‘hello’. 

Brown eyes wide, Eddie fights hard against the instinct to bolt. To run out the door and into his van and drive far away. But the thought makes his stomach turn. 

‘Fuck that. I ran away once. I’m not leaving her again.’ 

“H-Hey…uh, can you… give me a sign that it’s you? That I’m… not just sitting here talking to a… demon or something.” 

As if on cue, Chrissy appears on the other side of the coffee table, sat on the floor with her legs folded same as him. 

“You called me baby first and then you asked if I was a demon? Feels a little out of order.” 

For a moment, he’s stunned into silence from the fact that these are her first words to him after... 

“Death becomes her …Nice to see you too.” He muses, sliding a guitar pick off the coffee table and rubbing his thumb across the front. His hands have always been his greatest tell. Always touching or toying with something when his brain is going faster than he can follow. How the fuck is this happening?

Then she’s smiling. And he swears it feels like he’s reliving every Christmas morning at once.

“You’re not scared.” A statement, not a question. She’s surprised, having braced herself for a much longer fight before he didn’t look at her as if she was the monster in a horror film. 

“Are you?” Just like Eddie to be looking after her, ready to pick up all her pieces, even when they were buried in the ground. 

“What else can happen to me now?” 

Swallowing hard, he nods. Waves of guilt wash up on his shore and he struggles to put up a sea wall against them. But it seems losing her physical form has only strengthened whatever connection they had before and she can feel the shift in his energy as if she’s a radio antenna dialed into one station. His. Eyes falling closed, she pleads with him to believe her.

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“How did you…how are you…here?” 

Big blue eyes brushing around the trailer, she feels such warmth here. Like she could nest into the carpet and sew herself into the fibers of the couch and pool inside the moonlight falling through his windows. A single shrug rolls her slender shoulders. 

“I’m not sure…I just…wanted to be here. I wanted to be with you…You’re the only one who comes and talks to me, you know.” 

“Not even…?” 

“He brings flowers. He doesn’t stay. Mom and dad too. Nothing to say, I guess. Just like everyone else…except you” 

“Seems a little too easy…” Easy has been a difficult road for Eddie to trust ever since he can remember. Especially when that road leads to happiness. What’s the catch? He thinks.

“Does it? Feels like we earned this to me.” The look in her eyes silences any further opposition as he remembers how much she’s sacrificed. His usual ‘devils advocate’ attitude melts into an easy nod and he plays the corners of his guitar pick across the coffee table. 

“I’m happy you’re here…god, you could be anywhere. With your family, with…with Jason.” She nods, unblinking, completely aware of these facts. Only silence follows and the confidence of her response tugs a smile to life at the corner of his mouth. “But I don’t… I don’t want you to go, hmm?” 

And she nods again as he repeats the words that she'd pressed into his pages like little wildflowers in the woods. Smiling that Christmas morning smile all the while. 

~~~

The fourth time makes him cry in front of the entire school. 

Graduation day. And he never really thought he’d get to walk that stage. But seeing Chrissy stand up in the crowd, waving her pom poms and cheering him on is enough to choke a sob or two in his throat.

Through his tears, he still manages to flip off Principle Higgins. And after the diploma is in his hands, him and Chrissy run like hell out of the auditorium, screaming like banshees. 

~~

The fifth time is nothing short of embarrassing. 

He’s puking his guts out before a show in Detroit at The Riot Club. It’s a Friday night. The basement venue is packed so full that everyone knows they’d be shut down in a second if the fire department were to show up for an inspection. But as long as the drinks keep flowing, no one really cares. Even if half of them get spilled. 

Eddie isn’t even sure how Corroded Coffin got this gig. Or why he thought they were ready for this. For Detroit. Real studio reps show up at these things. God, they’re gunna see right through his bullshit. Another spasm twists his stomach and he wretches up bile, a cold sweat breaking out over his forehead. 

Then, without warning, a brush of ice cold caresses the base of his neck. And before he even hears her voice, he knows it’s her from the way this touch is steadying his shaken nerves. 

“Better back here than up on stage, hmm?” She runs her hand slowly down his spine, then back up to squeeze at the tension coiled tight in his shoulders. 

“Y-yeah…” 

“You are ready for this, you know.” Chrissy wonders if reading braille feels the same way decoding him does. A language you can’t see but only feel. 

“How…how could you possibly know that?” He barely loses the words as he fights to catch his breath. 

“I know you’ve seen me at your shows…” 

If he’s honest, he’d assumed he’d hallucinated all that. That he was simply seeing what he wanted to see. But then again, he’s been talking to a ghost. So, it’s a little late to play the ‘rational guy’ card.  

“I always wanted you at my shows.” A deep, dark laugh rumbles low in his chest at the irony. “Not like this, but…” 

“What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll die and have to come haunt everyone in Hawkins with me for eternity?” 

His eyebrows raise as suddenly the shotgun in his uncle’s closet starts to sound a bit more friendly. Catching the look in his eyes, she reads his mind as easily as if it’s her own. 

“That’s not an invitation.” She clarifies, slapping his own smirk right back at him. 

The walls shake with the chanting of the crowd beyond the bathroom. They’re losing their patience, ready for the music to start. 

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Eddie flushes his vomit away and moves to splash cold water on his face at the sink. Chrissy takes a seat on the countertop, her thin legs crossed at the ankles. Hesitantly, he lifts a hand and brushes it along her cheek. 

She’s smooth and soft and cool as the cement of a crypt. 

“I fucking miss you.” He whispers, feeling lost at sea. 

“I’m right here. Always.” She promises him, dusting a cold kiss to his jawline. 

That’s the night Corroded Coffin play their best show yet. It’s also the night they’re offered a record deal in LA. 

The producers he meets think he’s a little strange. Always talking to himself. Wearing a wedding ring but living alone. Always writing songs about dead girls. 

But the songs sell. And fans seem to dig his loner vibe. And the shadows he keeps company with seem to steer him out of trouble. 

For the most part, anyway. 

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: June 6th, 2021

I’m back with more ask responses! You can also check our Frequently Asked Question sheet if there’s something you’re wondering that’s not answered here.

FAQ   Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

Thank you for the patience with these questions  ♡

Hey in very beginning of step 3 in the scene where Mr.Holden had a thought dancing on the tip of his tongue but he kept it to himself after MC and Cove were being cute (idk if it makes a difference but this is when they're dating)... Can we know what he was thinking/ wanted to say? It's been bugging me lol 

He would’ve gone into a “look how much you’ve grown”, “your dad is so proud of you”, “I’m so glad things worked out with the MC”, and etc spiel, haha. But he resisted the urge to fawn on his baby boy, at least for that scene.

If we planned to move away for college/future plans in step 3, is it implied that MC and Cove would have a long distance relationship for sure? Could MC have convinced Cove to come with them? How is the dynamic of their relationship going to be addressed in Step 4, if that makes sense? 

Cove is willing to follow the MC where they went after everything is settled for them there, and if they’re sure they want him to come! You’ll get to decide how things shook out during those transitional years just by making choices about it during the opening prologue of Step 4.

Hi! First off, how does it feel to have created one of the best games when it comes to inclusion for lbtq+ peeps? I've never felt as validated with my identity and sexuality when playing a game and I'm seemingly not alone ♥ Second, and this might be a little too specific, but what kinds of drinks does Cove like as well as dislike? Thank you, you're the best ♥

Thank you for very much! It’s really nice to hear the game felt inclusive. Cove likes regular water and fruit juices/smoothies most! He dislikes coffee and cola, and he’s not super into most teas either.

Hi, may i ask what gb patch stands for? Specifically the gb part lol

It stands for my old, silly username I used in places like Neopets as a kid, aha. The company name wasn’t super thought out since it was originally just me making VNs as a hobby. Luckily, “GB Patch” kind of seems like it could mean something reasonable, so I didn’t have to rebrand when it did become a more serious, commercial group.

If we chose to not propose to cove in the step 3 dlc would he propose or would the mc propose in step 4 or the wedding dlc? 

Yeah, you or Cove can propose in Step 4 if you’re not already engaged! The Wedding DLC takes place after the engagement so the proposal scenes aren’t there.

will you guys announce if the early access for the new game is out on patreon ? 

When beta builds of Step 4 or whatever start coming out on the Patreon we will mention it here on social media too.

Heyy I just had a quick question about Baxter if that’s okay :)?

I saw in an ask+answer that it’s possible to casually date Baxter In step 3, but what leads up to that? I have the step 3 dlc and I’ve tried playing them In a different orders and ways but it doesn’t seem to get anywhere ^^;

The Step 3 DLC is Cove-based because he’s the default guy. There’s a separate Baxter romance DLC that’s not out yet. That’s where you can get him to date you. I’m sorry for the confusion!

Will we ever get any LI's or side characters with physical disabilities or deformities? I think your games would be a great place to have them in since they're always so accepting and safe! 

Yeah, we do hope to have representation for that in future projects ^^. Thank you for the confidence in us.

Is it possible to get Cove to take the bed and MC to sleep on the floor? 

Not in Step 3, I’m afraid.

So, I have played the prologue of Our Life countless times and I haven't gotten the [Your Life] achievement, why is that? 

Steam sometimes isn’t connected properly when an achievement unlocks and so it remains locked on your account. If that happens, unfortunately getting the scene again won’t unlock it. The achievement becomes inaccessible because the game thinks you already have it. Playing with the same Steam account on a different device or fully deleting your game data (more than the only the save files) are the only work arounds we’ve found.

Since when you talk with Jeremy in step 3 it's mentioned he goes on dates with someone (which assume is JB because who else would take this boy on dates) that makes him happy, does that sort of make JB and Jeremy the canon relationship in the first game?

The default for XOXO Droplets is that JB casually goes on dates with each of the jerks! Shiloh would’ve been harsher if Jeremy was the only guy getting her attention, haha. But the player can change that default by dating just one person the whole game for their own story and who she ends up with for real has no default.

Hi, hello! Huge OL fan, thank you so much for the wholesome content, it was very much needed during these times. Managed to get several people to join team Cove, so that's very exciting, I always have people to fawn over him with. I have a little question and I'm sorry if it was asked before, but does it ever come up in the game what Cove has told his mom about us? (who knows, with so many options, one can miss it) Or, alternatively, will it come up in the Step 4 DLC? 

Thank you very much for sharing the game with people <3. It’s really great to hear people are liking it. Right now that doesn’t come up in game. Kyra is willing to keep her mouth shut and Cove isn’t gonna have that conversation either. At least not when he’s younger, but yes, perhaps when he’s a fully grown big boy in Step 4 you can ask him about it.

I’ve been thinking about this ever since it has been confirmed that there would be two love interests for OL2, would there be the possibility of forming a polyamorous relationship with both love interests? I’m sorry if you answered this previously, I’m just curious. 

We are considering it, but it’s not a guarantee yet. It’d be really great to have but it’d add so many extra alterations that’d need to made, aha.

Hello! You mentioned how Cove would be uncomfortable with kids at 23, but how old would he be when he’s comfortable with having/adopting kids? (Same goes for the other LI’s.) btw, love your game!! 

He’d want to be at least 25, but even older would be good. Derek would want to have kids when he and his partner could reasonably support them, the age itself wouldn’t matter. If they were doing good at 22 and wanted kids, he’d be up for it. Or they could wait until their 30s or whatever. Baxter is also more of a “when it feels right” guy rather than having a specific age requirement. Cove is just especially wary of being a young parent because of his own parents. I’m happy you like the game!

does step 4 immediately play after you press "end summer" in step 3? or is there another button/transition (like the story text thingy) before the epilogue begins? what happens after the epilogue? roll credits? 😂 

Step 4 will have transition section always and there will be an extra button, if you own the Derek or Baxter DLC. By default the Cove-based version of Step 4 just plays once Step 3 is over. However, having the other guys’ storylines will mean you get to pick which version of Step 4 plays; Cove Step 4 (the basic one), Derek Step 4, or Baxter Step 4.

Happy pride, thank you for all you do for us🥰

I have a quick question though, I recently got a MacBook after my old windows computer broke, and now steam says I cannot download it, but it has no issues with other games, what can I do to download it?? I’m sorry if my English is bad

Happy pride month! Unfortunately, Our Life isn’t available for Mac on Steam right now. To be an approval application Apple requires having special notarization and we as a small group haven’t gotten that. Itch doesn’t care and lets us release the game for Mac there anyway, Steam does care so we’re locked out of putting the Mac build up on their storefront. Feel free to email us and we can try to help the situation out further!

support@gbpatchgames.com

Hello! I was jus wondering if the Baxter and Derek DLCs are still happening? I haven’t heard anything about them on here or patreon in a while so I just wanted to make sure ^^

They’re still coming and we just released a new sprite sketch on the Patreon for the Derek DLC c:. But right now Step 4 is still much more of a priority. Once that’s closer to being done we’ll focus way more on sharing previews for the other guys.

is it possible to tell cove you love him (platonically) at step 3 fondness/selecting him as basically family? i just love the mc and liz sibling interactions and it got me wondering about it (especially if you've selected that option)

You and Cove can be as close as family, but there’s not a specific scene in Step 3 where you say “I love you” in a family context. But there’s always Step 4~

do you intend on ever adding a collectors mode to Our Life? Like a way to collect achievements and CGs for the gallery without it effecting any save files? 

We weren’t considering it before. But if a lot of players would find that helpful, we could start thinking on that!

Sorry if it's a silly question haha, but (in crush/love) is Cove really aware of how cute and cuddly he seems to MC? If so, what does he think or do about it? Or does he just ignore it? 

He isn’t particular aware. Cove never truly stops being surprised that the MC is interested in/attracted to him, haha.

Would you say that the alone ending of xoxo droplets is worth playing again to get? 

Nope, haha. The goal is to make friends/get a boyfriend and so the alone ending is kind of the bad ending for the game. Though there is a consolation prize if you get it by accident.

Is there any possible situation which would ever prompt Pran to bake for his girlfriend? Like I know it's unlikely I mean even if JB broke her leg somehow I'm pretty sure he'd still be like "I considered baking you a cake and doing the frosting the way I think looks interesting but you don't deserve a cake, no one does." right but also ahhh it would be super nice if some day he just surprised her with baked goods one day out of nowhere. JB would be so shocked it would be cute. So is there any possible situation where that could/would be a thing that he would do? 

He might bake out of spite, like if he felt he had to prove her wrong on something. Or if JB used some good reverse psychology on him. Or he might do it in a relatively nice way if he could make his GF so shocked by the kind gesture that his amusement with that overrode his insistence on not being sweet. Pran is very difficult in high school, aha.

Is the "one route (where) it can be seen that Everett will drop his seemingly eternal waging with Jeremy pretty easily and can start getting along without thinking much on it" the Lucas route? I'm curious! 

Yep! Everett will side with Jeremy if it’s between him and Lucas.

Hi I hope you guys are having a great day :) I just had to ask how Cliff would feel about Cove's partner/fiancé Mc calling them dad whether it be accidental or otherwise and secondly I also wanted to ask how he would feel about being asked to be the one to give the mc away at their wedding. 

He would be very touched and excited! I hope you have a good day too :D

Hello! I saw an ask relating to whether Cliff "moves on" after Cove's grown up and stuff (and he stays single), but what about Kyra? Will she be with anyone else or will she stay single? 

She does start dating again, but she takes it slow.

Hi! I absolutely love the art for characters in OL and I wonder is this fine to draw my MC in same drawing style and upload online later? Is this something artists would be okay with? Thank you! 

Yeah, you can certainly do that C:

Hey there!

I wonder if I'm just being stupid here.. Is Step 4 a DLC? And if so, where can I find it? I can't seem to find it on Steam :< Thank you!

Step 4 is a free epilogue! It’s not done yet, but once it is finished you’ll just update your game file and Step 4 will be there after Step 3 ends.

hi! are step 4 and the wedding dlc two different things?

They are. Step 4 is a free epilogue that’ll be a default part of the game once it’s done, the wedding DLC is an optional paid expansion that takes place after Step 4.

Why did Baxter not receive a step 2 sprite seeing how he shows up later

Sprites are time consuming to draw and take money out of the budget that could’ve gone to other things. His tiny appearance in Step 2 wasn’t worth all the effort to make a sprite, aha.

I just realized, what happens if if you get the patreon exclusive moment but at a later date, when you don't have the membership anymore, it's updated (like a bugs fix update for example)? Would you have to get the membership again? 

You would have to get the membership again to redownload the build. But there’s very little chance there’s going to be an update once it’s been out for over a month. If a build gets released with errors, players catch/report them within the first few days. So by the time the first subscription period ends, any problems that were noticeable would already have been fixed. And we’re certainly not gonna be adding new content to it once it’s been released for a long time. There’s no need to worry about missing out on something worthwhile in the future if you cancel your membership. It’s being made with the idea in mind that many players are gonna be getting it and then going.

Hello! Wanted to ask about gaming choice in step 3? Once upon a playthorugh I got the option to buy Cove a bracelet for his graduation present. I played the same basic character again and that option wasn't there anymore. I'm not sure where I went wrong. My Cove wears a bracelet on each hand and my MC is into fashion and jewelry. Do I need to put an earring on him or? Sorry, love your game so much. 

He also needs to have liked bracelets in Step 2 for that to be considered a good gift option for him. Sorry for the confusion! I’m happy you love the game :)

Is Step 4 being released at the same time as the Wedding DLC or will the first come before the latter? Thank you! 

I’m not sure. Ideally they’ll come out at the same time, but the wedding DLC has a lot of art to get done and we may have to release it after Step 4.

Can mc still get confession from Cove at the end of step 3 even if mc casually dates Baxter in step 3? Such as in crush mode? 

I don’t think so. Maybe that’ll change, but generally there’s differences to the Step 3 ending if you were dating Baxter and those differences likely will conflict with getting the Cove confession.

For the patreon moments/dlcs, will it be available for all tiers? 

It’ll be available for tier 2 (Fans) and up!

[passivenovember]

mama said to smile while I still have teeth : PART TWO

(part one)

(or) Billy gets his wisdom teeth removed and Steve understands things will not grow back in the spaces we leave for them.

--

Billy hops down from the passenger side like it’s written in a script or something. Part B of his master plan, logical in the journey of what happens next.

He swings the car door open and charges through wet grass. Neon green blades stick to the heel of his boot, lopsided smile drawn forward to inspect the ferns nestled on either side of a welcome mat that says Bless this Mess. 

It’s as if he’s been here before. 

As if he belongs.

Steve watches Billy collapse on the porch swing, arms and legs folded under him like a house of cards toppled over in the wind. He must not realize that it’s functional, or something, because Billy sits bolt upright and uses the toe of his boot to get the swing moving, once he does.

Really moving, like. Banging against the bay window his mother leaves clear for her azaleas, moving. 

Billy hollers. Makes grabby hands, like, “Push me!”

“You’re gonna get sea sick.” Steve chuckles, watching Billy shrug and take it for a ride. 

Billy brings the swing to a sudden halt, when. “How come you’re all the way down there?” he asks. 

Catching on. 

Steve watches him struggle to get his feet up on the swing. Feels his heart shudder in fondness, when Billy grins up at him triumphantly. 

“Didn’t know there were other options.” Steve says.

“There aren’t. Come here.” Billy gestures to the porch when Steve’s legs decide to fizzle out. “It’s a carnival ride. You got one on your porch, at your house, and--”

Steve claims of the second cushion when Billy removes the thumb from his mouth long enough to spell it out for him. “Cuddles.” He says.

Simple.

And his eyes are so blue. Bright. Steve doesn’t have a choice because, really, they’ve swapped sides with the rope. 

Up and left this dimension all together when the flea got squashed by the acrobat deciding that they could skip the apologies and get to the good part.

Steve realizes that he wants this. 

Billy. Scooting impossibly closer and humming the bridge to Mama Mia. “You smell good, Stever.” Billy says around the pad of his thumb. Dripping more blood down the front of his hoodie, and. Trying to get his face in Steve’s neck. 

Which should be gross, but. 

Steve just clears a path. Makes room for the warm nose that sniffs a trail up and around one ear. “You said I smelled like ass,” He accuses, sounding shaky. Star struck. 

Billy’s breath feels like fairy wings. “Wrong. I said you smell like sweet grass and have a sweet ass, didn’t you pay attention to my context clues?”

“Um.” There’s something warm on Steve’s throat. Going wet in the middle, parting and sucking and--

He pulls away. 

Billy smiles at him. tries to get in Steve’s lap but the bench moves with him and when the bench moves with him, Steve’s got a brick wall glued to his side. 

Shivering. Cold, or afraid. Nervous.

“You tired?”

Billy shakes his head. With his whole body. “Wanna hang out.”

“You can sleep for a little bit. I’ll still be there, when you--”

Billy grunts. Refuses, so. Steve rubs the side of Billy’s shoulder, instead. Fabric and muscle and heat living somewhere beneath his fingertips. “You don’t wanna go in?” 

“Nope.” Billy somehow works his way under Steve’s arm. 

Feels right, striking oil in the heartland.

--

It starts raining again. Somewhere along the way, it starts getting cold and Billy shivers, peering up at Steve like he made it happen. 

Like the heavens split open and bleeding at his command.

Steve chuckles, pushing off the swing and laughing harder when Billy squawks like an angry rooster. 

“Where are we going?” He demands.

“Inside.”

Billy seems to hate that, like. Instantly. 

“Don’t make me carry you, Hargrove.” 

“Oh, look who’s got Popeye arms all of a sudden.” Billy leans back on the porch swing, thighs spread like. He has no idea how fucking--

It doesn’t matter.

“You need to eat.”

“My stitches haven’t fallen out.”

“Yeah, and they won’t. Not for days.” Steve leans against one of the porch posts, trying not to crack a smile when Billy’s thumb finds his mouth again. “Unless you’re planning to eat your hand, we gotta get some mac and cheese--”

Billy’s off the swing before Steve realizes what’s happened. He wanders in between the ferns in their bright orange pots. Jamming a thumb at the number above the doorbell, like, “This door?”

And. “Yeah?”

���This is the one with the cheese?”

“And the mac too.” Steve winks at him, watching a warm blush spread across a sea of freckles. He cocks his head, like, “What’s up?”

“Maybe we can do inside.” Billy says harshly. “For a minute. To kiss the noodles, or something--”

“Kiss the?”

“Open the door.” Billy suggests. “Now.”

So Steve does, biting down on a smile when Billy clomps through the foyer, tracking dirt and grass and pieces of Steve’s heart across imported marble.

“This is so huge.” Billy says softly. His eyes go bright all of a sudden and he’s right in Steve’s face. “You probably have so many pillows here. And chairs. And blankets, too, like. The big ones--”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s build a fort, Stever.” Billy says desperately. He bounces a little, managing to knock more mud onto the floor beneath him. “Let’s build a house. For me and you, and the noodles if they wanna stay the night.”

Steve grins, untangling Billy’s fingers from his hair. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Steve points to the ground. “Boots off first, though.”

Billy jerks away. “No.”

“Stop being a little shit for like, three seconds--”

“Stop being party pooper. For like. Your entire adulthood.” Billy shoots back, collapsing onto the staircase and holding his foot in one hand anyway. 

Steve holds his breath. 

Billy stares at the boot, and his foot inside the boot, like maybe the connection between them is lost. 

Steve feels like an asshole for finding it adorable, but. Billy looks up at him through his eyelashes. 

“I think I’m still high.” He theorizes.

“Yup.” Steve tugs his own shoes off, placing them on the rack by the door.

“I don’t think I can untangle the knots.” Billy says miserably. He tries, though, scowling like the laces have done it on purpose.

Steve watches him struggle, and laughs at the struggle, before holding out his hands. “Give me your foot.”

Billy stares at him. “Really?”

“Our only other option is to wait around until you figure it out, and who knows how long that’ll take.” Steve says, waiting for Billy to shoot back with something venomous. 

He doesn’t. 

He coos, instead. Like a little baby bird, pointing his toes in the air with a giggle. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the prince,” Billy declares, laughing harder when Steve drops to his knees and gets the boot off in one go. “Prince Charming, Prince--”

“You’re just saying that because I have amazing hair and you have little blonde princess curls.”

“Hey.” Billy deadpans, holding out his second foot. “It grows out of my hair like that.”

“Head.” Steve chuckles.

Billy’s mouth falls open in a silent O, brows drawn in confusion. 

Steve puts both muddy boots on the rack next to his own, smiling down at Billy’s puzzled face. “Your hair grows out of your head like that.”

“It does?” Billy asks in wonder. “I like it. Do you like it?”

And. “Yeah. It’s cute.” Steve says, holding out his hand. “Come on. Lunch time.”

Billy lets Steve pull him up, swaying a little bit at their proximity. 

He doesn’t pull away, and.

This close his eyes aren’t just blue, they’re green. And yellow. And brown, like a kaleidoscope. 

“Am I a cute person, Stever?” Billy asks softly.

“The cutest.” Steve says. Without thinking, but.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Because Billy’s high as a fucking kite, wiggling his hips and saying, “I think you’re cuter than me. Softer. Like an opil painting, or maybe a box of raspberry macaroons.”

Steve chuckles, not even trying to pull away when Billy’s fingers try to force their way into his mouth. “When have you had macaroons?”

“I haven’t,” Billy admits easily. “But I always thought that maybe you tasted like one.” 

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but. Billy’s gone after that. Running his fingers along the wall and disappearing around the corner. 

“C’mon, Stever! I want cheese flavored kisses.”

And Steve.

Doesn’t think Billy will remember this. 

--

They order pizza instead. Steve knows that Billy’s gotta be careful with his incision marks. Not go to heavy on the fat and grease less than three hours after his surgery, but. 

Steve tries to hold blue eyes even as they slip through his fingers. Pools and rivers disappearing beneath the Earth.

He’s starting to think that maybe. 

All it would take is bat of those stupid eyelash and Steve would throw every responsible thought out the window. 

Billy says, “You got a laundry machine?” After the pizza performs its vanishing act. 

And Steve says, “Yeah, why?” 

Two seconds before Billy is stripping down naked. 

“Woah, woah, hey--”

“There’s Kool-Aid on my hoodie.” Billy says from behind a wall of fabric. “I can’t walk around with red juice on my clothes, people will know I’m a vampire then.”

“You’re a vampire?” Steve tries to look away from Billy’s stomach. 

The smooth planes of skin, soft just above a layer of muscle. He puts a hand over his eyes for good measure. Safe keeping when Billy gets the hoodie off in one go and he’s standing there. 

Shirtless.

In the middle of the room like some kind of wet dream Steve never even realized he had. 

Billy grins, curls sticking out in every direction. “They’d think it.”

And Steve’s brain is, fucking. 

Offline. Distracted. He blinks, tearing his eyes way from Billy’s chest long enough to go, “Think what?”

“That I’m a vampire.”

And Steve thinks he couldn’t be. Too tan. Too--

Alive. Steve shrugs. “I don’t think it.”

“That’s because you don’t think.” Billy tosses the hoodie onto floor. He points at Steve, like, “Can I wear your sweater?”

And Steve looks down at himself. “This one?”

“Yeah.” Billy says. “Smells like you.”

And Steve doesn’t even have to think about it. Doesn’t even consider what it might mean, pulling the fabric over his head and handing it to an asshole who examines his Kate Bush tee shirt and says, “That one too.”

Like he’s trying to make Steve catch on fire.

Steve shakes his head. “What will I wear if you take all my clothes?”

Billy shrugs, like, “Not my problem.”

And he’s uncovering truths with those eyes. Getting a little too close to the root of it, the revelation, so. 

Steve gives Billy the shirt too. 

And tries not to think about the four seconds that they’re both shirtless. Standing in a room together, just. looking. Charting unmarked skin, eyes glazing silver springs on bronze soil. 

Billy puts the tee shirt on, and the sweater over the top of that, until It’s just Steve. 

Half naked in the living room.

“I’ll go grab another shirt, and then, um.” It feels like the walls are burning down. Steve’s thoughts fall like bullet points. “We should go outside,” He says. “Wanna go sit on the swing?”

Billy frowns. “’S cold outside.” 

“Yeah, but.” Steve picks the hoodie off the ground. “I’ll keep you warm.”

--

Billy’s fingers don’t leave his skin. Don’t soothe, when they light trails of smoke over his collarbone. 

Steve leans into the touch anyway. 

Gives into the pull, anyway, when Billy grabs his cheek and brings their eyes together, looking every bit like he’s got something to say. 

Something important.

“What?” Steve asks. Wanting to touch. Wanting to--

“You know my mom threw a plate at my old man,” Billy says, eyes resting on a scar they both know is there. Hidden, like gold beneath caverns of rock. “The day she left, she. Threw my Mickie Mouse at him.”

“Your plate?”

“It was a bowl.” 

“I’m sure he deserved it.” Steve says easily. “I’m sure it was the only way to win.”

“There aren’t any winners with stuff like that.” Billy says gently. His eyes are watery again. Steve’s getting suspicious of it, like maybe that’s just how the world comes together for Billy. With water and sphere’s of blue. 

God hovering over the surface of the deep. 

Billy sighs, thumb twitching against his leg. “Neil would’ve killed her.”

And Steve hates Neil.

Knows more than be probably should. Pays attention, takes notes.

“That just means she’s resourceful, right?” Steve whispers. “Using the stuff around her to fight fair.”

“Wasn’t fair.” Billy whispers, finally looking away. Eyes studying the rain as it drips from the trees above. 

“Clean, then.” Steve shifts, rocking the porch swing as he sits criss-cross with his knees pressed against Billy’s thigh. “Even fight. Clean break.”

He wonders how he can get those eyes on him again. 

How he can be taken apart. 

“No such thing.” 

Steve doesn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

“All breaks sever the bone.”

And Steve thinks. Maybe. “Are you high?” He squints at Billy’s face, trying to see if it’s written on his forehead. 

Billy smirks. “I think so.”

“Still high.” Steve says, wanting to lift his fingers. Prod at swollen cheeks. He doesn’t, when Billy’s eyes start welling up again. “Don’t cry.” Steve suggests, sliding closer. “Don’t cry, Billy--”

“I’m sorry about--”

“I know.”

“That night. It was. I never should’ve--”

“She’s your sister.” Steve says fiercely. Because. “We were trying to protect you.” And he was. At the root of it all, deep in the center of himself. Steve turns outward again, feet planted on the ground. “We didn’t want you to get roped into our shit. With the monsters, you were.”

Billy’s staring at him. 

Watching. Steve can feel it, so. He closes his own eyes, just to even the score. To make it easier when his lips say, “You’re too beautiful to have your life cracked open like that.”

Billy doesn’t speak until he does, voice flickering like candle light behind a window covered in frost. “Life was already laying in pieces on the rug.”

And there are fingers in Steve’s hair. Brushing tears from his cheeks. Billy grabs him by the throat with more care, more. 

Love.

Than Steve ever thought he would get in this life. Billy moves him until they’re right in each other’s space. Breathing the same air, no longer running races to escape one another. 

It feels right. 

Billy smiles at him. “Thank you.”

And Steve doesn’t know what for. Doesn’t care what for, but there’s a finger on his mouth, parting his lips. Billy’s eyes burn a hole in his tongue. Clear a path through muscle and bone, until Steve is pulled forward. 

Into an embrace. 

Into a trilogy of kisses; on the corner of his eye. On the bridge of his nose. On the bow of his lip that turns biting. And bruising.

Billy asks if he can lay on Steve’s chest, because. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He says shyly. Billy kisses him once more and  and Steve.

Goes down easy.

[littlespoonevan]

pick me up and take me home again

Ahh so I’ve been planning to write this for ages and I finally decided to start it - very ironically - about an hour before the 10x06 deleted scenes dropped lmao. So here’s some outsider pov on mickey and ian’s relationship as everyone reacts to mickey being released from prison and back in the gallagher house!

title comes from 400 lux by lorde

I hope you like it :)

*

Liam first remembers hearing Mickey’s name when Ian disappears right before Monica dies. He wasn’t supposed to hear, he doesn’t think, since Lip and Fiona had been whisper-yelling at each other. But Fiona had said “When does Ian ever think things through when Mickey’s involved?” and it’d made him curious.

“Who’s Mickey?”

He remembers how they’d both abruptly cut off, turning to stare at him like they were both at a loss for words until Fiona had finally said Mickey used to be Ian’s boyfriend when Liam was a toddler.

Liam had wracked his brain after that, trying to picture him but he could only remember vague snatches of a person. Ian had come home a couple of days later anyway, looking sad even though no one had told him about Monica yet. When they’d been in their room that night Liam had climbed up onto Ian’s bed and said he couldn’t remember who Mickey was and then immediately regretted it when Ian had looked like he was about to cry.

But he’d smiled a little after a moment and took out his phone, scrolling for a second before he’d handed it to Liam. The person in the picture with Ian had looked familiar in the same way you recognise an actor in a movie sometimes but have no idea why. He was pale with black hair and shorter than Ian and he was grinning in the picture with Ian’s arm around his neck, flipping the camera off.

“He looks familiar,” Liam had offered because Ian still looked sad and Ian’s smile had gotten a little brighter then.

He doesn’t hear Mickey’s name again until the day after Ian goes to prison when Lip gets off the phone with him and announces with a disbelieving laugh that Mickey is Ian’s cellmate.

“How the hell did that happen?” Fiona had asked, eyes wide with surprise, and Carl had been the one to answer.

“Mickey’s gone to jail for Ian before,” he’d said like it was obvious. “He loves him.”

Liam has never actually seen Mickey in person – at least, not that he can remember – so he doesn’t exactly expect it when he goes into the kitchen one evening and finds his brother at the stove with his arms wrapped around someone decidedly shorter than him with black hair. It has to be Mickey.

Liam watches from the living room entryway for a minute. Ian’s grinning in a way he hasn’t since he’s come home, hands on Mickey’s hips, and Mickey’s leaning against the counter, rubbing his hands over Ian’s arms and looking up at him with a smirk.

“Still can’t fucking believe you’re standin’ in front of me,” Ian says quietly but still loud enough for Liam to hear. “Missed you,” he adds, kissing Mickey’s lips and then the side of his face.

Liam raises his eyebrows – he’s never seen Ian like this. He’d met Trevor and he’d been nice enough but Ian had never been…in love around him.

Mickey laughs, draping his arms over Ian’s shoulders and loosely linking his fingers together at the back of Ian’s neck. He looks like he’s about to reply when his eyes catch on Liam standing in the doorway and he pauses. His eyes flick to Ian again and it’s enough to make Ian turn around.

Ian smiles when he notices Liam but Liam doesn’t miss the fact that his cheeks are red. “Hey buddy! We were just gonna make some food. Have you eaten yet?”

Liam shakes his head, ambling into the kitchen and hauling himself up into one of the seats at the breakfast bar.

“Mac and cheese good with you?” Ian asks him and Liam nods absently, watching Mickey. There’s the vaguest sense of recognition in the back of his mind, flashes of memories he can’t really grasp.

“You’re Mickey,” he says without preamble and Mickey huffs out a laugh, looking from Ian to him.

“Yeah,” he replies. “You’ve gotten big, kid.”

It’s weird that Mickey can remember him so clearly but he can’t do the same.

Ian’s grinning as he listens to their little exchange, dumping the box of macaroni into the pot. “Liam doesn’t really remember much from before,” he explains and Mickey raises an eyebrow at Liam as if looking for confirmation.

“Probably for the best,” he snorts.

“Ian showed me a picture,” Liam supplies.

“Oh yeah?” Mickey asks, cutting an extremely amused look at Ian. “When was this?”

“When he went to visit you that time,” Liam says, blinking in confusion when both Ian and Mickey freeze. He doesn’t really understand why – especially why Ian looks like a deer caught in the headlights. When the silence gets awkward, Mickey clears his throat.

“He did, huh?” he says softly and Liam hopes Ian doesn’t think he’s being subtle when his hand wraps around Mickey to squeeze his hip as he pretends to still pay attention to the boiling pasta.

Liam nods uncertainly. “Yeah. He was all sad ‘cause he missed you.”

It’s the right thing to say because Mickey gets a quiet smile on his face and his hand settles over Ian’s on his hip.

“He’s missed you since he came home too,” Liam adds as a further attempt at damage control, making Ian groan and give him a look.

“Oh my god, Liam,” he says long-sufferingly but Mickey laughs.

“Y’know what, kid, you were always my favourite Gallagher,” Mickey tells him with a smirk, shoving Ian when he tries to elbow him in the ribs.

And Liam finds himself smiling, if not for the fact that his brother is so happy then for the sense of familiarity he feels right now. A lot of people come through this house but not many slot into their lives so comfortably. He can feel the fact that Mickey has a place here though, even if he can’t remember it.

He thinks he might like having him around.

*

Tami is just getting used to the madness that is the Gallagher house when Ian’s convict boyfriend suddenly shows up out of the blue one day, walking around like he’s always been there. And she doesn’t actually think she’s being unreasonable when she says she doesn’t want a criminal around her baby.

“You know Ian was in prison too, right?” Lip points out later that night when she voices her concerns.

“Jesus Christ, he set a van on fire he didn’t murder anyone,” she says dismissively, keeping her voice pitched low so she doesn’t disturb Freddie in her arms.

“Mickey didn’t either,” Lip says, expression thoughtful. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Tami widens her eyes at him in an attempt to convey the full effect of her incredulity without yelling at him. “Are you serious right now?” she hisses.

Lip holds his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the wall their bed is pushed against. “Hey, if anyone in this family’s hated Mickey it’s me but he’s not so bad now. Plus, he and Ian actually know how to take care of a baby so they’ll come in handy as babysitters. Way more reliable than Carl.”

She doesn’t even want to know why they know how to take care of a baby, ignoring Lip’s attempts to coax her onto the bed with gentle hands on her hips. She sits down on her side of the bed of her own accord, careful not to jostle Fred, and shoots Lip a glare she thinks makes very clear just what she’ll do to his balls if anything happens to her baby.

If the way Lip’s eyes widen marginally is anything to go by, she’s made her point.

*

It’s a couple of hours later when she’s up with Fred for his late-night feed that she hears voices. Opening their bedroom door as quietly as possible, she slips out onto the landing and recognises Ian’s and – who she guesses is Mickey’s – voices. When she hears them coming up the stairs she panics, quickly stepping into the bathroom and pushing the door shut until it’s just shy of closing. There’s still a sliver of light where she can make out Ian and Mickey coming to a stop outside Carl’s bedroom that she guesses is theirs now too.

“Can’t wait to share your fuckin’ single bed that barely fits one grown adult again,” Mickey is saying, one arm slung around Ian’s neck as he looks up at him, a cocky tilt to his mouth.

Ian lets out a quiet laugh and Tami sees his hands sliding over Mickey’s sides. “I mean it’s an upgrade from our last setup.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey retorts, gaze flicking between Ian’s eyes and his mouth. “Say that again when I punch you for hogging all the fuckin’ blankets.”

Tami can’t see Ian’s face really but she can hear the smirk in his voice. “You say that like you don’t use me as your own personal blanket, Milkovich.”

“Yeah, well I don’t got a choice, do I?” Mickey says. “Like I said, you fucking steal the blankets.” He finishes his sentence with a swift jab at Ian’s ribs but Ian only laughs, backing him up against the wall next to the bedroom door and drawing him into a kiss.

And it’s…unexpected, really. Just how weirdly playful and affectionate they are. They sound like a real couple and she knows they are but they sound fucking married or on their way there, at least.

“Come on, I’m beat,” Ian is saying then, stepping away from Mickey until only their hands are connected. “Let’s go to bed.”

Mickey smiles at him and it’s such a contrast to the grimace she’d seen him wearing earlier she wonders how she’s even looking at the same person.

She doesn’t realise they’re coming towards the bathroom until it’s too late and she curses under her breath, making for the door and opening it just before they reach it.

Ian stops short and Mickey bumps into his back. “Tami,” Ian says, sounding confused but still polite.

“I was just giving Fred his feed,” she says, forcing her voice to sound casual. “Didn’t wanna wake Lip.”

Ian nods vaguely and they stand there in awkward silence for a beat too long before Ian seems to remember Mickey at his back. He turns to look between him and Tami. “Hey, have you two met or-?”

“We’ve met,” Mickey replies and she expects some hostility there but Mickey doesn’t seem to be able to help the curve of his mouth when he meets Ian’s gaze.

“Cool,” Ian says and his smile brightens again as he looks at Tami. “Mick’s my boyfriend,” he explains unnecessarily.

Tami flashes them a smile at that and finds she’s not faking it. “I better put this little guy down again,” she says, nodding to Fred in her arms. “Night, guys.”

She returns to the quiet of her and Lip’s bedroom and carefully deposits Fred in his crib, silently thanking him for not blowing her cover earlier.

She’s certainly feeling enlightened after that little encounter.

*

Carl’s always had faith in Ian and Mickey.

He might be dumb about a lot of things but he knew what he was talking about when it came to those two. He remembers asking Ian years ago if he loved Mickey and Ian had said he liked how he smelled. Carl didn’t really get it at the time but he remembers cuddling with Bonnie not long after that and sort of just breathing her in and feeling this weird calm settle over him.

That’s when he knew Ian knew what the fuck he was talking about when it came to love.

And that the only reason he knew any of that was because of what he had with Mickey.

So he’s always known they’d end up together – even when everyone else didn’t.

He’d say he’s annoyed about having to share a room with them but they’re being surprisingly tame right now – he figures he’d made the right decision giving the bedroom a wide berth all day until he absolutely had to go to bed.

Besides, it’s not like he’s not used to it from the old days.

They’re only talking now, whispering back and forth, and Carl knows he shouldn’t be listening but he can’t really fucking help it when they’re in his room.

“Man, are we ever gonna fuckin’ sleep in a bed that actually fits both of us?” Mickey asks quietly and Carl can hear the soft laugh Ian lets out.

“We had it pretty sweet at your place for those few months,” Ian replies.

Mickey makes some kind of unintelligible noise and then, “You think if we report Terry to the cops on some bogus charges we could move back?”

Ian laughs again, louder this time but still attempting to keep his voice down, Carl thinks. “I’m gonna get us our own place one day and buy the biggest fucking bed, I swear to god.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey asks, sounding amused, and then there’s the distinct noise of lips smacking together.

Weirdly, it makes Carl want to smile.

“Mhm,” Ian hums. “A king-size or a queen-size, whichever one’s bigger. I can’t remember.”

Mickey breathes out a noise that sounds like a laugh and Carl hears the covers shift. “You makin’ plans again?”

“You don’t want to come live with me in our own private space with a big bed?” Ian asks in that shit-eating voice Carl knows all too well from when Ian decides to be a pain in the ass. “Fine. I’ll go sleep in the big bed all by myself. Think I’ll get one of those memory foam mattresses.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey replies and Carl’s not sure but he sounds like he’s smiling. “How’re you plannin’ on paying for all of this, hotshot?”

“It’s a goal to work towards,” Ian says affably and Mickey hums before there’s more kissing noises.

And Carl is really fucking happy for them, if he’s being honest. He knows he doesn’t know all the ins and outs of their relationship but comparing this conversation to the tentative, quick conversations they used to have before with Mickey on the floor and Ian in his bed, it’s just really clear that they’ve finally got shit figured out.

He’s pretty sure no one else deserves it more.

*

Debbie’s always sort of been secretly rooting for Ian and Mickey.

Call it the hopeless romantic in her or that gene inside her that’s so desperate to cultivate anything approximating family but she’s always thought Ian found a home in Mickey. More importantly, she’s always thought Mickey found the same in him – which can’t really be said for any of the other Gallagher siblings’ relationships.

Still, she doesn’t really expect to see them like this.

She gets home from work the day after Mickey is released from prison and finds them on the couch. Ian’s wedged into the corner, back pressed into the spot where the armrest meets the back cushion, and Mickey’s leaning back against his chest, both of their legs propped up on the coffee table.

They offer her a, “Hey,” when she comes into the living room.

“Hey,” she replies amusedly. She’s pondered a lot of things about their relationship but she never thought Mickey would be the little spoon, regardless of their height difference.

But he looks ridiculously content in Ian’s arms, with Ian trailing his fingers up and down his arm while his other arm overlaps with Mickey’s across Mickey’s stomach.

“Whatcha watching?” she asks, perching on the edge of the armchair and trying not to stare too much at how comfortable they look.

“Some gameshow thing,” Ian replies, suggesting they probably hadn’t really been paying attention to it all that much.

She nods in acknowledgement, eyes on the screen for a minute until Mickey’s voice pulls her attention.

“What a fucking idiot,” he exclaims. “The answer is obviously C. Who let this fuckin’ clown on the show?”

She huffs a laugh and then has to bite back a squeal when she realises Ian’s stifling his own laugh by pressing his smile into Mickey’s hair.

And they’re just. So fucking cute.

And she doesn’t think they were ever really allowed to be that before. They’re probably long overdue a honeymoon phase that lasts at least a year. She decides to leave them be then, let them enjoy their own little bubble for a while.

But she thinks from now on, when she wants relationship advice, Ian and Mickey are gonna be her go-to.

*

The thing is, Lip knew about Ian and Mickey long before anyone else did.

Carl and Debbie – and even Fiona – only knew when it counted. When Mickey was there, sleeping on their floor and then Ian’s bed and convincing Ian to go to the hospital and then to take his meds. They only knew when Mickey was too worried about Ian to worry about what everyone else saw.

They never saw the bad shit. The way Ian withdrew into himself more and more when Mickey got engaged. The fucking bruises and Ian’s tears and Ian’s heartbreak and Lip knows, rationally, that most of that shit wasn’t Mickey’s fault. That he was as much a victim as Ian was. But when Lip’s little brother and best friend in the world is getting his heart ripped to shreds Lip doesn’t feel all that sympathetic.

Thing is though, he forgave Mickey for that a long time ago.

Like he said, when it counted, Mickey was there. And Lip would have to be fucking blind not to believe Mickey didn’t love Ian after all that, would have to be the stupidest person on the planet not to think every fibre of Mickey’s being was devoted to Ian.

So he knows they love each other. He knows that.

But he’s never really seen them actually be a couple before.

He’s in the kitchen, making up Fred’s bottle for him and Mickey and Ian are over by the washer and dryer, ostensibly washing the clothes Sandy dropped over from the Milkovich house. But really, Mickey’s sitting on the dryer with Ian standing between his legs and Lip is so fucking glad for once that he’s running on about three hours sleep because he doesn’t have the brain capacity to pay attention to how disgustingly soft they’re being.

They’re laughing about something, hands roaming all over each other’s torsos and Lip wonders idly if Mickey’s smile is really that bright or if he’s become so sleep-deprived that he’s started hallucinating.

“You still need to give me your list for Costco,” Ian is saying and what the actual fuck? Are they talking about groceries?

“Uh, well, soap and shampoo at least,” Mickey says sarcastically. “Even though you’ll probably conveniently forget it so I keep using yours.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Ian snorts and Lip’s too curious not to look over as he sees Mickey give Ian a sceptical look.

“You think I don’t know about your little scent fetish?” Mickey says and Lip wants to bleach his brain. He hastily returns his attention to the bottle.

Ian splutters for a second before he laughs. “It’s not a fucking fetish, oh my god.”

“Uh huh,” Mickey retorts. “You think I don’t notice you fuckin’ inhaling my neck when we’re spooning?”

Okay, Lip has officially stumbled into a parallel universe where Mickey Milkovich is in his kitchen talking about spooning with his brother.

“I think I can control myself enough to let you use your own shampoo,” Ian scoffs and then, as far as Lip can tell, fucking proves Mickey’s point by dipping in to kiss the crook of Mickey’s neck. Or smell it, probably. Jesus, Lip needs to go.

Mickey starts laughing but it very quickly turns into a sharp inhale and Lip doesn’t stick around for anything else, just grabs the bottle and hightails up the back staircase to get Freddie from upstairs, right as he hears the dryer knock against the wall.

And despite the probable desecration of their family kitchen happening right now, he thinks it’s about time those two caught a break.

*

[dcbbw]

Drake. Singing "Jolene" in the shower. Please please pretty please. xoxoxo

Hahahahahahahahahaahahaha, BURNS!!!! Hopefully I delivered what you were looking for.

To provide context/background to whomever reads this, @burnsoslow and I have random late-night convos that cover a whole range of topics. The other night, we were discussing Drake Walker’s taste in music. I see him liking old-school country and 70s rock (think The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac). Then I got this image of Drake in the shower singing Dolly Parton’s Jolene, a song about a woman pleading with a temptress not to take her man.

Well, then the question became which Drake? The answer is below the cut.

Song lyrics are from Jolene and are the property of their respective owner(s). Forgive me, Dolly for taking liberties with some of your words, but Burnsy came up with the BEST name!

Thanks to my bears for pre-reading!

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Answer has hints of lemon. 

Driam

Drake Walker was in the shower, his fingers working shampoo into his thick, brown hair. As suds bubbled over his scalp and transformed his mane into a white, soapy cap he sang.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

Your beauty is beyond compare With flaming locks of auburn hair With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green Your smile is like a breath of spring Your voice is soft like summer rain And I cannot compete with you Jolene

Liam joined him, the hot water pelting his body as Drake began the second verse. Liam’s heart twisted at Drake’s song choice. Coronation was mere hours away; Liam would be fully duty bound to Cordonia and her soon-to-be Queen before the night was over.

“You have no competition, love,” Liam murmured against Drake’s wet skin as he stepped behind his lover, his arms encircling his waist, hands splayed across Drake’s hips.

Drake stopped singing. “Hey, Li,” he said softly.

“This Jolene is not an apt description of Lady Riley. She sounds more like Duchess Olivia,” Liam frowned as his hand began stroking Drake’s length.

“Ha! Never made the connection, but I suppose you’re right.” Drake’s eyes closed in both bliss and hurt at his King’s touch.

“I swear on everything Drake, Lady Riley won’t come between us and what we have. It’s just a temporary situation.”

Drake stepped closer under the shower head, letting the water rinse the shampoo; rivulets of soapy water rand down his back, causing Liam to release his hold from Drake.

“Did you hear me, love?”

Drake nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If his lips parted now, he would tell Liam the truth and he had promised Riley she could be the one to tell Liam.

Liam’s choice would refuse his proposal. Because she had chosen Drake. And they were leaving for America in a week.

It broke Drake’s heart, but he and Liam would never be together they way they both wanted and deserved. Everyone was free to love the way they wanted to except the King. And Liam would never, could never give his country the attention it needed if Drake were in the picture.

Already, he was planning to divorce a Queen he hadn’t even married.

Drake would say his goodbyes to Liam after Riley broke the news. He wondered if he could ever say goodbye to Liam. The man was ingrained in his mind, his skin, his very soul.

He had to. It was for the best. It was for Cordonia.

Commoner’s Wife AU Drake

The Duchess of Valtoria blearily opened one eye, letting out a loud groan at the time. 9 am. Her head hurt and her mouth was dry from consuming too much alcohol and not enough food at the charity gala her Great House had hosted the night before. She had been too busy being the dutiful wife and gracious hostess.

She sipped whiskey with her husband, Drake, as they made their rounds; their smiles were wide, and their questions sincere as they networked with their fellow nobles. She drank wine with the ladies of court while the men smoked cigars. She had flitted from table to table during dinner, making sure everyone was full and happy, with a martini in her hand.

When she finally sat down to eat with her husband, the orchestra had begun to play, and the Duke and Duchess led everyone in the first dance.

The entire evening, her eyes constantly strayed to the King, who had escorted Duchess Olivia to the soiree. Riley’s eyes narrowed whenever Liam’s fingers touched Olivia’s. Her jaw clenched when she saw the King and Duchess dancing, his hands placed just above her buttocks and her slender, pale arms snaked around his neck.

Her husband saw it all.

Riley rolled onto her back, her head sinking into her pillow. She had already decided she wasn’t going to do anything other than hydrate and pop ibuprofen. Her phone buzzed; her hand reached out to grab it.

Liam:  Last night’s gala was magnificent, yet pales compared to the shining jewel that is you. The Crown’s contribution is forthcoming. I miss you.

Riley deleted the message and tossed her phone back onto the bedside table. Fuck you and Olivia.

She had just risen from the bed to use the bathroom when she heard the shower turn on. Drake. She decided she would kiss her husband good morning and plead hangover to get out of any plans he may have made for them for the day. What good was being a Duchess if one couldn’t take a day to rest and relax?

And sulk over one’s lover being lovey-dovey with someone else.

Riley entered the bathroom, hearing Drake singing. She raised an eyebrow. Two things Drake didn’t do: sing and dance. She listened to his voice, a deep bass, singing an old Dolly Parton tune. But the words were wrong.

She talks about you in her sleep And there's nothing I can do to keep From crying when she calls your name JoLiam

And I can easily understand How you could easily take my girl But you don't know what she means to me JoLiam

Riley’s hand covered her O-shaped mouth. Did Drake know?  The twisting in her stomach was not so much about being caught; she did have enough love for Drake to not want him to be hurt. It just wasn’t strong enough to overcome her need for Liam.

She hastily coughed to announce her presence; the singing stopped.

“Brooks?” Drake called out.

Riley stuck her head in the shower; the spray lightly peppered her skin. “Good morning,” she said softly.

Drake grinned. “Good morning.”

“Hey, how about waffles for breakfast? And that thick cut bacon you like?”

Drake looked at her in confused surprise. “Are you up for it? You had more than your share of liquor last night.”

Riley kissed Drake’s wet lips, slipping in a little bit of tongue. “You’re my husband! Of course I’m up for it. And anything else you may want to do today.”

Drake looked searchingly over his wife’s expression. “Are you sure?”

Riley nodded, a bright smile on her face. “Positive!”

Drake soaped his washcloth. “Brooks, are you happy? With me?”

Riley swallowed over the lump in her throat. “There’s no one I’d rather be with,” she lied.

She left the bathroom to cook breakfast before her husband saw the truth in her eyes.

Upstate AU Dramien

Heavy rain poured outside while Drake Walker and Damien Nazario lay in bed watching the Saved by the Bell reboot on one of their many streaming services. It was 10 am, but with no lights on their bedroom, the room was as dark as if it were still 6 am.

“Thank GOD we cleaned out the gutters last weekend,” Drake commented.

“Hmmmm”, Damien responded absently.

He wasn’t the house person. He liked the idea of home ownership: It represented adulthood and was a great investment, but the work it took to keep up the house and protect it from unnecessary problems? The tree pruning, gutter cleaning, keeping sewage lines clear? Drake took care of that or found folks who would.

“You know, it doesn’t get dark like this in the city when it rains,” Drake observed as they watched Lexi shy away from kissing Jaime because he really liked Aisha.

“The lights from all the stores and office buildings penetrate the cloud cover.” Damien shifted in the bed to pull more sheets over his body. His eyes were glued to the screen. “Why does it not surprise me that Zack Morris is an absentee father?”

“I wonder why Jessie is still hanging in there with her loser husband. He’s having an emotional affair with a character from his book!”

“And now said character is pregnant.”

Drake shook his head as he grabbed the remote to turn the television off. He glanced over at Damien. “Breakfast?”

Damien nodded. “I’ll cook if you wash the dishes.”

“I cleaned the gutters so we don’t have to worry about it raining on our heads. You cook and do dishes, and I’ll take care of dinner.”

“Deal”

Drake climbed out of bed. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

“In our new manly bathroom?” Damien teased.

“It was PINK! ALL OVER! Like a teenage girl puked up everything Pinterest in there! Even the toilet was pink.”

“I like pink!” Damien argued.

“You like everything I don’t.” Drake gave Damien a quick kiss on his lips and padded into their master bath.

Alone in the bed, Damien stretched before getting up and making the bed. He then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The sounds of the shower and Drake’s singing greeted him.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

You could have your choice of men But I could never love again He's the only one for me Jolene

“Why are you begging Jolene to leave me alone?” Damien teased as he stepped into the shower with his lover.

“Why aren’t you cooking breakfast? Drake countered.

“I missed you,” Damien replied as he grabbed his washcloth.

Drake looked at him knowingly. “You think I’m going to do the cooking as well as the home improvements.” He shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Jolene would happily do it.”

“I’m not Jolene. And she needs to stay 50 feet away from your ass.”

“I love it when you’re jealous.”

Drake grabbed Damien around his waist and pushed his back against wet tile. “How about some … dessert before breakfast?”

Damien kissed Drake deeply. “Always down for dessert.”

“But only if you’re making it with me,” Drake clarified.

“Jolene only cooks breakfast.”

DC AU Drake (Issa throwback)

It was the morning after Drake Walker had broken up with Riley Brooks inside of the Columbia Heights Target. He hadn’t slept a wink and was hoping a hot shower would soothe his red, burning eyes and relax him enough to get some type of rest.

Or wash away his guilt.

He stepped beneath the water, wishing there was someone he could talk to, but he didn’t even have an explanation for what had happened. He wanted to call Brooks and see how she was holding up; they had been friends too long for it to just end that way. But Drake had no idea what to say to make it better, and she was hurting enough.

As he shampooed his hair, a memory came to him.

Drake was in the shower, his hair filled with suds and his conditioner bottle in his hand, his mouth to it as if it were a microphone. He was belting out Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5, and so caught up in the song he didn’t notice that Riley had slipped into the shower behind him.

She stood, her hands crossed over her chest as she giggled. Drake turned quickly, dropping the bottle; he grinned at her sheepishly. “You heard that, huh?”

“You’re missing the boobs and hair, but you kinda nailed it.”

“Ya think?” Drake picked up the conditioner.

“I didn’t peg you as a Dolly Parton fan.” Riley stepped in front of him to let the water wet her body.

“She is ICONIC, and we do not deserve her!” Drake began to shampoo his girlfriend’s hair. “Did you know rumor has it she wrote Jolene and I Will Always Love You on the same day?”

Riley squirted her rose and peony scented bodywash onto her washcloth. “Really? Homegirl was going through that day.”

“But she’s been married to her husband for over 50 years,” Drake pointed out.

Riley turned to face him. Her hands pressed against his shoulders. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t have problems.” Her eyes looked into Drake’s, the slightest hint of uncertainty in them. “We’re good, right?”

Drake looked at her, puzzled. “Why do you ask that?”

“I just don’t want to be hurt. Or killed.”

Drake pulled Riley closer. “You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies.”

“Maybe.” Riley laid her head on his shoulder. “I just … “

“Shhhhhh,” Drake interrupted her. “You’re it, Brooks. We’re good. We’ll always be good.”

Drake wiped a soapy cloth over his torso. He shook his head, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Brooks deserved an apology, an explanation. But he had to find the words, because right now it was looking like he was thinking with his dick.

And Alyssa Devereaux was so much more.

Devereaux. She deserved the truth.

Drake had to find a lotta words.

Fuck!

Another Dolly Parton song popped into his head and in a cracked voice, he began to sing.

I had to have this talk with you My happiness depends on you And whatever you decide to do Jolene

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him even though you can Jolene, Jolene

Tagging:  @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @janezillow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @ladyangel70 @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71

 #long post #dcbbw answers #Jolene ask #very slightly, lightly ns*w #drake walker

[amelialincoln]

I’m Okay Now

“Sorry, I’m here,” Amelia huffed, sliding into the booth beside Meredith and spilling the contents of her bag over the table. “Shit.” Mer laughed as she took in Amelia’s catastrophic entrance which was nothing out of the ordinary. Maggie took in the exasperated neurosurgeon’s appearance, frowning slightly.

“Amelia you’re--”

“Spilling out of my shirt?” She finished for her sister. “Yeah, I’m aware.” She grabbed the medical booklet that had flown out of her bag and held it up for them both to see. “I stopped taking the pill cause I’m looking at IUD options and my hormones are fluctuating like crazy.” She tucked her sore chest back into her bra that had become two sizes too small. “Did you guys order?” Maggie and Meredith shared a look that Amelia couldn’t recognize.

“We just got a bunch of things for the table,” Mer explained. “Maggie’s been waiting for you to tell us.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Amelia’s breathing was still heavy, as if she’d run all the way from the hospital. “But I am intrigued, it’s not often that the three of us go out for breakfast to reveal some big news--”

“Winston wants me to move,” Maggie blurted out, tired of Amelia’s rambling. “He’s already arranged a position for me at his hospital. He wants me to leave Grey Sloan.” Amelia choked on her glass of water.

“What?” She exclaimed.

“Is that what you want?” Meredith asked at the same time.

“I mean, I don’t know…” Maggie sighed. “He never really took into consideration the idea of moving here. I mean I’m probably more highly regarded at Grey Sloan than he is at his hospital.” 

“Yeah you are. Girl power,” Amelia whooped, receiving a small smile from Maggie.

“I’ve just built a life here. I’m not sure I want to start over.”

“That’s your right,” Meredith added as their food arrived at the table. Amelia wrinkled her nose at the sight of bacon and pushed that specific plate away.

 “You love bacon and eggs,” Mer narrowed her eyes at Amelia’s disgust.

“Uh yeah, not feeling it right now though. Trade plates with me, Maggie? I’ll take the fruit.” Maggie raised her eyebrows but passed her the plate all the same. “So are you gonna do it?” 

Maggie sighed, “I mean I love Winston.” She spoke the words as if she were testing them out loud. “And that’s not something I say lightly.”

“We’d miss you,” Amelia interrupts with a mouthful full of fruit and receives a look of disapproval from Meredith.

“Well exactly.” Maggie smooths her braids. “I don’t think I could leave you guys behind.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to.” Meredith shakes her head.

“But then we’re stuck,” Maggie’s tone is exasperated, she’d run every possibility over in her head. “There’s no way to advance or grow in our relationship. Long distance is fine if it's temporary but what’s the point of all this if we don’t see an end goal together.” 

“Where do you see you both ending up,” Amelia asks. “In your perfect world.”

“Well he’d be here,” Maggie spoons yogurt into her mouth. “In my perfect world we’d be in Seattle.”

“Then you need to tell him that.” Amelia sets her fork down and is surprised to find Meredith nodding in agreement. “Fuck, I don’t feel good,” she muttered under breath as she steadied herself by pressing a her fingertips on the side of the table.

“For god sakes, Amelia, it’s because you're pregnant,” Meredith rolled her eyes. “For a doctor you could not be more oblivious.” Amelia’s eyes flew open in shock.

“It’s not...I’m not.” The tone in her voice was wavering. Maggie couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

“Don’t sound so unaware,” Meredith teased, “I could name off five symptoms since you got here.” She expected the neurosurgeon to come back with a classic Amelia style response but instead she was lost in thought.

“Amelia,” Maggie’s voice was so quiet it was barely heard. “Is Link--”

“He’s away,” Amelia swallowed, hard, “in LA. Some pro athlete called him in cause he wanted the best. We haven’t talked about kids.”

“Well we can try and act as your big calm mountain until he gets back,” Maggie offered.

“Can we just get back to your thing right now?” Amelia pleaded, she avoided her sister’s looks of concern as she took a swig of her water and tried to ignore the fact that she wished it was the mimosa that Meredith was sipping on. Meredith’s phone buzzed on the table and the general surgeon glanced down before shoving the phone in her purse and gathering her wallet.

“That’s the hospital.” She looked at Maggie sympathetically. “We can finish this conversation tonight? Will breakfast on me make up for this?” 

“Mer it’s fine,” Maggie assured her.

“Wouldn’t complain though,” Amelia mumbled, receiving a glare from Maggie. Meredith set her card on the table and scooted past Amelia before heading hurriedly out of the restaurant.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maggie asked immediately after her departure, watching Amelia swirl her spoon around in her coffee. She’d already had three cups today and doubted the amount of caffeine was good for the situation she might’ve gotten herself in. “Cause I know you and Mer’s relationship is...complicated and if you didn’t want to talk about it with her I’m here.” 

“I haven’t taken a test, Maggie,” Amelia snapped, her tone harsher than she’d intended. Maggie sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed. I wish Link were here.”

“I know how that feels,” Maggie shrugged, handing Mer’s credit card to the waiter as she came to their table.

“That was insensitive of me--” Amelia began as Maggie held up her hand to quiet her.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

Meredith’s emergency surgery ended up being a twelve hour one. Amelia pulled off Ellis’ snow boots and smiled as the little girl ran off into the living room to play with her siblings.

“Hey Elle belle,” she whispered and motioned for the child to come back. “Since your teacher said you did such a great job on your math homework, you can pick what’s for dinner.” Ellis’ eyes lit up and she shrieked with excitement. Amelia winced as she felt her head begin to pound.

“Mac n cheese?” She asked.

“Sure, baby.” Amelia was relieved that she’d picked something so simple. Ellie wrapped her arms around Amelia’s legs in response, whispering that Amelia was her favourite aunt and to not tell aunt Maggie. To which Amelia rolled her eyes. “Nice try, you told her that she was your favourite aunt yesterday.” Ellis pressed a finger to her lips as if Maggie wasn’t at work and was listening in the other room.

“You’re my favourite aunt today,” she promised before running off once again. Amelia’s phone buzzed and Link’s face illuminated the screen.

“Hey,” she mumbled softly, “you just get off the plane?”

“Yep!” She winced at Link’s loud and cheery voice, wondering how he could always be so full of energy. “I was thinking of picking up some food on the way home. Do you have any requests?”

“Oh.” She realized she’d completely forgotten to update him on the last minute change of plans. “I’m not at the apartment. Meredith got pulled into a surgery and Maggie’s working the night shift so I’m watching the kids.”

“Okay, no worries.” He quieted down to match her tone. “Do you want me to pick up something and bring it there? We can put the kids down early and watch a movie.”

Amelia’s stomach turned at the idea of food. “I’m not really hungry but I’m up for a movie.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, not remembering a time where Amelia hadn’t been ‘up for food’. “I could pick up soup or something?” Amelia ran a nervous hand through her hair.

“Yeah, actually I need you to go to the store.”

“Okay, just send me a list, you know I’m no good at grocery shopping.” She could hear Link asking for a cab.

“No, Link, I need a--” she turned to see Bailey hovering over Ellis’ head with a pair of scissors. “Bailey! Don’t you dare cut your sister’s hair!” Bailey’s eyes widened, dropping the scissors guiltily. “I need a pregnancy test,” she practically yelled into the phone. Zola glanced up in confusion as her siblings carried on playing, completely unfazed. The other end of the phone was silent almost long enough for Amelia to check if they’d lost connection.

“Pregnancy test?” Link confirmed.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he swallowed. “See you soon.” He hung up quickly. Amelia tossed her phone away in annoyance and angrily filled a pot with water setting it on the stove. She didn’t know she’d begun to cry until hot tears were clouding her vision.

“Auntie Amelia?” Zola’s voice rang out beside her and Amelia jumped. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Amelia forced a smile, rubbing her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “Yeah, I’m all good.” Zola didn’t seem to take that as an answer, crossing her arms in front of her and staring up at her aunt patiently. Amelia sighed, pouring the box of Annie’s into the boiling water. 

“Are you having a baby?” 

“I don’t know,” she responded truthfully. “I’m not sure if your uncle and I are ready for that.” Despite her and Link not being married the kids referred to him as uncle so much that the title had stuck.

“Whenever Uncle Link braids Ellis’ hair he always says it’s because he’s practicing for when you and him have a kid,” Zola says this simply, as if it’s common knowledge. Amelia almost drops the plastic bowls she’d been retrieving from the cupboard.

“He said that?” 

“Like every time.” Zola rolls her eyes. “Are you making Annie’s?”

“Yes,” Amelia sighed, not wanting to hear any complaints from her niece.

“Good,” she wrinkled her nose. “Bailey likes Kraft Dinner but Annie’s is way better.”

“I hear nothing but facts.” Link’s voice surprises them. Amelia turns to meet his gaze. “Hey.” He holds a plastic bag in one hand and a duffle bag in the other.

“Uncle Link!” Zola runs to hug him, her squeal alerting the other two from their game in the living room. Bailey is throwing a bouncy ball at Link seconds later and Ellis follows him giggling. Link bent down to greet the three of them, allowing Ellis to wrap her pudgy fingers around his neck and kiss his cheek affectionately. Once he’s greeted each one separately, he moves to wrap his arms around his girlfriend, staring over her shoulder as she stirs the pasta slowly.

“You okay?” He pressed some tentative kisses on her neck as she relaxed into his embrace.

“All good,” she moved to strain the noodles before stirring in the rest of the ingredients and spooning the pasta into bowls. “Want some?” 

“I ended up picking up pizza,” he answered guiltily. “It was across from the CVS.” She ignored his attempt to bring up the test, instead calling out for the kids and handing each of them a bowl.

“You’re not hungry?”

“Nauseous.” She bit her lip worriedly, not wanting to meet his eyes. “If I eat I’ll throw up. Learned that this morning.” She glanced at the table instead. “Bailey, if I see you throw food at Ellis one more time I’m going to have a chat with your mother!”

“Annie’s mac and cheese sucks!” Bailey shot back with defiance.

“Well that’s unfortunate for you because tonight it’s your dinner.” Amelia shrugged.

“Irritable much?” Link had meant it as a joke but as he said it out loud he immediately regretted it. Amelia didn’t even look at him, no energy for a witty response. Instead she turned to the sink and started on the dishes. “I can do the dishes,” he offered.

“Can you just put them to bed?” She asked without glancing up from the soapy water. “I could use a minute alone.” 

She finished the dishes as Link dragged the squealing group of children up the stairs, knowing immediately by the ruckus that they’d convinced him to build a fort and he wouldn’t be down for a while. She finally brought herself to peek into the plastic bag Link had brought home. As promised, there were two pregnancy tests inside along with her favourite chocolate bar and ginger tea. She suddenly felt the urge to take it but the feeling quickly passed and she was left terrified. Instead she turned the test over in her hands, reading the instructions over and over in an attempt to distract herself.

“I read that ginger tea is supposed to help with nausea.” Link’s voice brought her back to reality and she looked to find him leaning on the doorway. “Meredith told me that you were feeling sick at breakfast.” Amelia raised her eyebrows. “I called her while I was at the drugstore. I didn’t know which test to buy,” he confessed. “I felt like she would know.” Amelia nodded, staring at the test in her hands. With the both of them being doctors she’d never felt more clueless.

“I didn’t get morning sickness last time.” Link raised an eyebrow, allowing her the space to elaborate but she didn't. They’d talked about Christopher once before but he’d still been left with questions.

“Do you even want kids?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “Do you want kids with me?”

“Yes,” she felt herself say immediately. They stared at each other for a while before she continued. “I was thinking more like adoption but here we are.” Tears burned at her eyes and Link closed the space between them immediately, wrapping his arms around her trembling body. They stood like that for a while until Amelia had straightened up and wiped her tears away, numbly making it towards the bathroom. Both tests confirmed their suspicion. To her surprise Link burst into happy tears, confessing how much he’d wanted this but had never wanted to push her and before she knew it they were both laughing and crying in each other's arms.

“Are we having a baby?” Meredith set her keys on the table as she pulled off her coat. Amelia was fast asleep on Link’s chest, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a day.

“We’re having a baby.” Link’s beaming grin was illuminated by the tv and Meredith shook her head in amusement at the excitement he showed despite it being long past midnight.

sorry all I write is amelink pregnancy fics cause it makes me happy lol

[agl03]

Finale Predictions

Well guys, it's been quite the ride and here we are ready for the finale.   First and foremost I have to thank you all for sticking with me over the years.  Sending the asks, supporting the theories, dealing with my sometimes crazy metas and predictions, that sometimes hit and sometimes didn’t. And trusting me to be the Fandom Mom. 

As is now an annual tradition I’m putting up my post of Finale Predictions before going dark until after the finale airs.  This is for fun as I always like to see how well I did.    Please no pitchforks if I am wrong on any of these.

So here we go:

Everyone’s favorite villains, Nathaniel, Kora, and SIBYL will all make it to the finale while Garrett will be killed or locked up by the end of the first hour (and it will use some of Fitz’s tech).

SIBYL will eventually get herself a new body.

Nathaniel will turn on Kora and try to take her powers and/or kill her.

Kora has already turned on him and he/we just don’t know it yet.  Either betrays him and helps her sister or tries to kill him herself in revenge for her mother.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  

Daisy will be the one to end Nathaniel and it will be oh so satisfying giant fight scene….even if we have to wait until the second hour for it.  Bonus points if Sousa get a hit in first too

Coulson, May, and Elena are able to get to space thanks to Coulson’s new computer Genius Super Power OR Garrett is ordered to bring them so they can lord their victory over them all.

Even though they have pretty much ended Shield and Hydra in the “hot mess” timeline SIBYL and Nathaniel set their sites on the OG Timeline and/or Fitz once they realize he has come into the mix and ruins their plans in the hot mess timeline..   As they are both aware he is the one who ends their little party.

The Chronicoms will not all be super thrilled with what SIBYL has been up too or her methods.   This could be another thing that drives SIBYL into the OG Timeline.   

The battle between SIBYL and Coulson seems to have gotten a bit more personal so my money is on Coulson being the one to take her down.   Close second goes to May and Fitzsimmons. 

Diana didn’t only block Memories of Fitz it took out the memories of people associated with him.  IE she is not going to remember her friends or Deke.

Deke will earn her trust quickly and be an A+ overprotective grandson of his Nana as they are rescued and get back to the team.

The team will rescue Deke and Jemma, take out a few Chronicoms, and Independence Day their way out of there.

While it won’t be the romantic Philinda some fans want we will see some quality Philinda banter over the finale as it seems they’ve settled into a good place between the two.   Coulson has also passed the torch of “team parent” onto her.

Philinda will not end as a couple.

At some point Sousa is really going to question what is going on and his life choices.  AKA He looks around stunned at what is going on.

More quality Dousy flirting and banter….they will kiss again and I do see them being a couple when things end.

Fitzsimmons family feels just a lot of them over the whole finale.  Iain and Elizabeth are going to murder us with feels.  I mean Fitz with his little girl.  I shall perish.

Despite not knowing everyone Jemma is going to be super insistent on building or activating a device (that has been stashed on the Zephyr) that she doesn’t know what it does but just knows she needs to build and activate it.  She will be the only one who can activate it and possibly it will take something very personal of hers to turn it on.  IE how she was hiding Fitz’s ring/necklace in Season 6 she might have the key hiding again.  But lets all freak out that Jemma will literally be the key to getting Fitz.

We won’t see Fitz until near the end of 12 if he is not the cliffhanger.  

That Bar place in the promo pics is either Keonig’s Bar or the Playground of the hot mess Timeline.  Seems to be some sort of secret Shield Base or what is left of them after the big attack as there are some random Shield agents milling/wth/who are these people in the background.  We know The Playground was off the books in the OG Timeline and would make sense it was also in the Hot mess.

Jemma will have her memory resorted relatively quickly after Fitz Kool Aid Man’s in all Star Lord from the portal thing Jemma activates.  And it’ll be the freaking power of her love for Fitz/her Family that overloads her (Gimme my Framework fix here).  Or Fitzsimmons have a fail safe password.  BUT GIMME TRUE LOVE.

CUE THE SECRET CHILD REVEAL!!!!!!!!!!   Yes, I will be screaming.  The team will be stunned.

I’m sticking to my theory that they will give their daughter a “celestial” or astronomical name to pay off “One of these days we’ll find something magnificent out in space,” thing from Season 3 (especially if she was conceived on the way back from Kitson).  Or a name that is very reflective of their Scottish/English roots.  

Everyone needs to hold onto their hats because once Jemma has her memories back it will be because they are gonna want to get home to their Little Girl like yesterday and have one hell of a plan that involves saving the world and taking care of Nathaniel, SIBYL, and the Season 6 Finale attack on the Lighthouse.

This is likely where a ton of the Flashbacks come in.

Where has Fitz been?  He’s been back in our OG Timeline.  The finale confirmation for me came last week when Nathaniel revealed that SIBYL’s time stream couldn’t see him….or their daughter, and that thing sees EVERYTHING in the HOT MESS Timeline.  This would also be why Jemma’s messages didn’t reach him, she couldn’t get them to cross into the OG Timeline and this was something she would have known but Diana blocked as part of hiding where Fitz was.

How has Fitz been watching the Chronicoms?  Insert incredibly complicated timey whimy thing the writers came up with that me and my Marketing degree can not fathom so just go with it okay, via the using the Framework in the OG Timeline to get into the Chronicom’s system.  Little pay back for what SIBYL has been doing in the Hot Mess Timeline.  Him being connected to the Framework explains why he was so exposed.  Because when someone is hooked up to that thing they can get their heads cut off and not know it.

Now reunited and having dropped the baby announcement Fitzsimmons will present the plan for the “Final Mission” the team must embark on to save the world….again.   

And oh baby is it complicated.  

Part of said plan will have them back at the Lighthouse during the Chronicom attack.

The dudes that showed up with Jemma at the Temple will be explained.  IE I think its some of the team and they cleared out of the Zephyr before the time travel party got started.  They also may have grabbed other hunks of the monoliths.

The fight will take place in both the Hot Mess and OG Timelines  

We have not seen the last of the Monoliths.  The fact we are jumping timelines and have Flint in the mix over in the OG timeline makes me think they are gonna need Mr. Swirly’s help in doing said jumping (Mr. Swirly is the Grey Monolith).  Or they really go with the OG and its Harold (Black Space one) that allows for it.  Kind of fitting the Monolith that tore Fitzsimmons apart is now the one that reunites them.  

We will for sure see Enoch (via Flashback), Davis (please not by Flashback #davislivesagain), Piper and Flint as returning Favorites.   

If they have Davis back to life I just gesture exhaustedly at the Monoliths again.  Not even gonna try to explain it.

Small chance we run into the Hot Mess’s Timeline Enoch but he will have no relationship or connection to the team and will make me cry.  

Top Picks for SURPRISE not on the Press Release faces to pop up if we get them:   Ward (I mean really how have we not seen him again yet), Mace, Robbie, Bobbi, Hunter, Koenig (any of them) and Mike.    REALLY WANT IT BUT WON”T GET IT!   Dadcliffe

Who was keeping Fitzsimmons Daughter safe:  

Top Pick:  Piper and Flint:  Given Fitzsimmons would have run into them picking up the Zephyr and they could have been the “we had help” they talked about.

Second Place Because I Badly want him back:  Uncle Enoch 2.0

Left Field Surprise Option:  Huntingbird

LOLA RETURNS

We will get a lot of really fun callbacks to past stories or even lines IE “I’m just the Pilot” For May.

“What We Are Fighting For”:  Family.  The team family….and the Fitzsimmons family.  Also they will have gone 13/13 in that someone will say the titles name at some point in the episode.

We will see old weapons and tech from previous seasons make one last appearance, we’ve seen 2 so far in promos and will see more.

Shotgun Axe gets a proper send off in battle (this one is for Kiddo 3)

Bear will deliver the most amazing soundtrack that we’ll never get to buy.

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story (Sorry Couldn’t Resist)

Nathaniel:  Dies, and we will all cheer.

SIBYL:  Dies, and we will all cheer.

Garrett:  Dies or locked up, won’t make it to the second hour.

Kora:  Toss a coin.  If she dies she killed for trying to take down Nathaniel.  If in her betrayal of Nathaniel she helps Daisy get Jemma and Deke back that could be a good starting place for the sisters to work thing out.   Starting place, she has a long way to go to get in good with Daisy and setting up an 11th hour redemption arc.

Mack:  Still so nervous for him based on how he has been in interviews, especially the SDCC ones last year.  He was so clearly upset by it.  So Mack either falls or does something so out of character (Bails before the finale battle which just is not making sense to me Mack is in such a good place right now) for Mack that Henry was upset by it.  Essentially I am very confused because what I am seeing on screen now isn’t matching with how Henry was talking as Mack has really come around since his Endgame stage.

Elena:   Easily lives.  If Mack doesn’t die, wherever he lands she’ll be with him.  They’ve been a steady ship all season and I see no reason for them to break up outside of death.  And while I have a mountain of concerns for Mack, I have none for Elena..   I also see her still being a presence within Shield, she’s become a good solid agent, and bonus points if she keeps Flint with her….and he gets all the tacos he wants.  

Sousa:   Totally lives (they might give us a good fake out though because he and Daisy are becoming a thing)I can still see him being Director of Shield if Mack falls or steps down.   He’s a good Agent in a new time but he said he is right where he is supposed to be, at Daisy’s side.  Where she goes he goes.  IE he’s not letting her get away and will always be there after she runs into a wall.  So if Daisy leaves Shield, so will he.  If she stays so will he.  If she opens a coffee bar he’ll learn to make an espresso.   

Daisy:   Totally Lives, but there will be something about her ending that some fans won’t like and some fans are going to love.   Staying with Shield or no whatever she does will involve Inhumans be it the Secret Warriors are up and running again, she is mentoring and training new Inhumans coming into Shield, or my favorite option still is she reopens Afterlife.  I’ve been feeling that option for most of the Season and feel like it was really set up with Jaiying as was Daisy looking out for her little sister should the chips fall the right way.     The SS Dousy will be sailing right along.  IF Kora survives I can see her being in Afterlife as well, Daisy taking her mother’s passion that Kora has a good heart to heart herself.  

Deke:   Okay this one is weird because I feel like we are going to lose him somehow, but he won’t die.  I didn’t get the vibe from Jeff, Elizabeth, or Iain that he died and those three are pretty tight.  However,  in that I don’t think I’m going to get my Fitzsimmons Family all settling down in a giant castle in Scotland together.  They set up for him to make a sacrifice, he’s grown, and has something he’s really truly fighting for.   I have loved seeing how close he and Jemma have gotten and how fiercely he’s protected her and her secret.  Even in the face of torture he didn’t betray her.  It will come as no surprise if he doesn’t sacrifice himself somehow.  Either in taking a hit for his family or doing something similar to what he did in Season 5 to make sure they got home.  Bringing things full circle.   He also expressed that he wouldn’t mind being stuck in the hot mess timeline in ‘83.  He built himself a nice life there and Nathaniel did a pretty good job of taking out Hydra...with just a bit of Shield hanging on.  So if it comes down to it I don’t see him minding if he gets stuck there.  Sure him saying goodbye to Nana and Bobo is gonna hurt like Hades but if he ends up alive, I’m good.  

Fitzsimmons:  Both live, yes they will scare the crap out of us more than a few times especially after we know about the daughter, but they will live.  Totally peace out, we’ve done our time, leaving Shield with the adorable daughter and its Perthshire or Bust.   They’ve sacrificed enough and will not be willing to risk it again.

May:   Lives and reminds us all that she is one hell of a pilot.  If Mack decides he wants to step down, dies, whatever I’ll throw her back in contention for Director, especially as I see Sousa Following Daisy if she leaves.  Coulson seemed to have set her on that path and at the very least passed the “Team Parent” torch onto her, that it would be her job to give the Coulson talks to those who needed it.  If she’s not Director, she’ll be whomever is right hand, or I still have that option for the Academy being up and running and she’s running that, training the next generation.

Coulson: Lives.I know SHOCKING.   I think he was very ready to throw in the towel after spending 20 months in the TV but then Enoch’s moving words in his death were what changed his mind about ‘powering down” when this is all over.  Coulson realizes that yes, while it is hard to be the one to leave it is harder for the ones that are left behind but it's also necessary that they move on, and live for those they have lost before.  Like Sousa and Fitzsimmons, he’ll be another that they’ll fake out death a few times.   I see him leaving Shield though, taking Lola and finally just going and seeing the world, watching the history he loves so much happen.  We get to see him driving around or even off in Lola for the last time.   Other options include he does something that will allow him to totally run with his new super computer super power.  The final thing I can see him doing is being the coolest professor at the newly rebooted Academy.  

Flint:  Get’s his tacos.

Piper: Keeps being awesome.

Davis:  Better live dang it.

Kiddos Predictions:

That weird device Jemma makes brings Fitz 

Deke sacrifices himself for Fitz

Fitzsimmons and their kid have to leave Shield

Mack leaves shield

Fitzsimmons, Dousy, Mackelena all stay together

Daisy kills Nathaniel, Daisy needs to quake him up

May or Nathaniel will take out Kora.  But if she survives we want Daisy to take her in.

Fitz takes down SIBYL

Piper is watching the Daughter

The daughters name is Olivia

Robo Coulson will sacrifice himself

GHOST RIDER HAD BETTER BE OUR SURPRISE CHARACTER (this was literally shouted at me).  Kiddo 3 voted for PIkachu (Lincoln)

Have no idea what will happen to May

We will get a “flash forward” ending showing what the team that is still alive is doing

Flint gets his tacos

They save the team and have a full out war at some point in time

The episode is going to be super good

Mom is going to cry

Well there it is.  We’ll check back in on Thursday to see how I did!

[seagreen-meets-grey]

The Last Slide: Ch. 2

@feeisamarshmallow here is the second chapter ♥

Read on ao3

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Chapters: 1 2 3 4

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The smell of chlorine hit Jake’s nose as soon as he stepped through the front door of the Tropic Thunder Aqua Park. Following Amy to the information desk, he envied the little groups of people striding past him to the ticket window, bags slung over their shoulders, inflatable crocodiles and donuts and flamingos under their arms. Once this case was closed, he needed to find a free day for Amy, Mac and him to come back here. Or maybe to a different water park, one with less murder history.

Amy greeted the teenager behind the desk, flashing her badge and ID. The boy’s brows scrunched in momentary confusion, then he paled a few subtle shades. But when Amy mentioned his boss calling because of the case, his shoulders relaxed. Jake wondered if the boy had done something to assume they were here because of him, or if he was just nervous. The name tag on his orange t-shirt read Julius.

He picked up a desk phone and pressed a few buttons, relaying the information of their arrival. Then he fumbled with his hands and bounced on his heels. “Can I get you anything? A water? Dolphin-shaped cookies?”

Jake opened his mouth to ask for those, but Amy spoke before he could.

“No, thank you, Julius.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “It must feel awful to be working right now.” The boy nodded, relaxing further and dropping down into his chair.

“It’s weird,” he admitted. “When I came to start my shift, there were crime techs everywhere. And they wheeled out a gurney with a black body bag. I thought this only happened on TV.” He shuddered, glancing off into his memories.

“Did you notice anything unusual lately, Julius?” While still smiling motherly, her tone was ever-professional. The kid was easy to trust her. A wave of pride welled up inside Jake. This was his wife.

Julius shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, Francesca said she saw the dead guy argue with Darius last week, but she also believes in yetis, so.”

“Who’s Francesca and Darius?” Jake asked.

“Francesca Roberts and Darius are lifeguards; they work here as pool attendants. I don’t know Darius’ last name, I’m sorry.”

“Did Francesca hear what the argument was about?”

Julius shook his head as behind him, a door opened and a tall middle-aged man with sandy hair and the body of a swimmer stepped through. He wore the same white shorts as Julius but his shirt was baby-blue, without a name tag.

With a polite smile, he reached out his hand over the desk. “Sam Kirkwell, I’m the head of Tropic Thunder. I spoke to your colleague on the phone this morning.”

Amy shook his hand. “Lieutenant Santiago of the 99th precinct, this is Detective Peralta. Is there anywhere we can talk more privately?”

“Of course.” Kirkwell waved them behind the desk and through the door he had just entered through. They walked through a small break room, then down a narrow, cream-painted hallway and into an office. Kirkwell sat behind the desk and gestured at the chairs on the other side, waiting for them to sit before leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk.

“Now how can I help you?”

They went over the details of the case, Amy taking notes rigorously while Jake painted a picture in his imagination, forming the scene, adding everything he’d already read in the file and everything Kirkwell told them. So far, the details added up.

The water park had opened at 9 in the morning. At 9:53, a man – Lars Pearson, 43 years old, Caucasian, warehouse worker – came out of the Disco, a popular water slide, with a poisoned dart in his neck. The first cops on the scene assumed he was hit before going down the slide, but security footage showed him happy, healthy, alive at the top. In the middle of the ride, he came through the funnel, but with the disco lights dancing around and no extra light source, the camera in there didn’t show enough to see the dart. No one followed him down in immediate succession, the next person started the ride once the victim had already been at the end.

Everyone leaving the water park since then had left their contact information. Witnesses could only describe that nothing had been out of the ordinary when Pearson had waited in line for the slide. Nobody had seen anyone with a blowpipe or dart gun. Pool attendants as well as camera footage didn’t deliver them any more information, either.

The victim had no family except for a bedridden father and a brother. Had come to the water park with two co-workers who could also not report anything unusual. No fingerprints had been found on the dart.

“I reopened the park, including the slide, about an hour ago,” Kirkwell continued. “Your people were already gone and the officers said there was no more evidence that had to be saved.”

Jake and Amy both huffed in annoyance. It was one thing to move the body if it otherwise floated around the pool. Any possible evidence left in the water slide, however, they could forget. Kirkwell didn’t seem to have thought that far ahead and whoever had given him clearance to reopen hadn’t either. But they would go and see what they could make of it.

“One more thing,” Jake said when Kirkwell was about to show them the slide, “Julius mentioned two pool attendants we’d like to talk to. Francesca Roberts and another one named Darius.”

“Darius Erickson, yes.” Kirkwell looked at his watch. “Francesca should still be around here somewhere and Darius is about to end his shift in a few minutes. I’ll have them wait in here.”

“Actually,” Amy held up a hand, “we’d like to see them before we inspect the slide.”

That didn’t seem to fit into Kirkwell’s plans, but he schooled his expression into a polite smile and nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Amy groaned. “How careless can you be?!” she grumbled. “Now we’ll have to investigate in-between a horde of civilians!”

Jake smirked. “You mean we’ll have to ride the slide to search for clues?”

“Seems like it.” She sighed in defeat but Jake was having none of it.

“Admit it, you want to. Otherwise, you’d just order Kirkwell to close the place until we’re done with the investigation.”

“We don’t even have our swimming gear and– You packed it, didn’t you.” He didn’t have to say anything, the grin on his face confirmed her assumption.

The door opened again a few minutes later and Kirkwell pushed a man and a woman inside. Before he could close the door behind himself, Amy turned to him. “We’d like to speak to them alone, please. Mr. Erickson, if you could also please wait outside while we talk to Ms. Roberts.”

“This is stupid, I already talked to the cops this morning, my shift is over! I want to leave, right now,” Erickson ranted but Jake just sternly gestured at the door. It was something he’d practiced a lot on Mac whenever he’d come out of his room before his tantrum-induced time-out had ended. Erickson reacted similarly while leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Ms. Roberts, please sit,” Amy told the woman. She looked in her mid-fifties, had bleached hair with a gray hairline and her orange t-shirt looked a size too small. “We’ve been told you witnessed an argument between Mr. Erickson and Mr. Pearson last week. Can you tell us more about that?”

Roberts shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. When I left the building last Thursday after my shift, I saw Darius in a heated conversation with someone. I didn’t care because he’s been moody ever since his wife left him a few months ago. I only remembered about it when I saw the body…” She gulped. “It was the guy Darius argued with, I’m sure.”

Darius Erickson confirmed that not much later. “Fine, yes. I knew Lars. That son of a bitch is the reason my wife left me.” He was sitting on the edge of his seat, arms crossed in front of him. The light from the ceiling was shining on his balding head and the crease between his brows was thicker than Terry’s biceps. (So to speak. Jake wouldn’t want anyone to actually hold him to that.)

“I know what you’re thinking,” Erickson continued, “but I already told your colleagues this morning, I didn’t do it! I was late to work, my car’s in the shop, my brother drove me. When I arrived, cops were already here.”

Amy neatly wrote everything down on her notepad. “We’ll need your brother’s contact information, Mr. Erickson.” The man threw his arms up in the air with a huff. “We need to check your alibi in order to drop you as a suspect. We ask you to not leave the city and to be ready for more questions.”

For now, they couldn’t actually bring him in for anything yet. Jake hoped they didn’t need to. Not just because that would solve and end the case way too soon, but also because Erickson would be out and about as long as they didn’t have actual evidence to link him to anything.

After the pool attendant had left, Jake relayed the information to Charles, and by the time they were following Kirkwell through the water park, barefoot and pant legs rolled up, Erickson’s alibi had checked out.

The air inside was warm and humid, tropical, with no breeze to provide a little cooling. Kirkwell showed them where the body was found. The Disco slide ended into a small pool area which in turn was connected to a large non-swimmer’s pool. If the body had been left in here, it really would have been floating around the park by now.

People were coming out of the tube and splashing into the tiny pool every thirty seconds or so. The chlorine in the water should have tainted every bit of evidence so far. And since the murder must have happened somewhere between Pearson’s start and end of the slide ride, Jake absolutely saw no other way than to don swim trunks and bikini and start the investigation. For the sake of work.

Amy grumbled a bit about feeling unprofessional in her own bikini while at a crime scene, but Jake could tell she was looking forward to this. She’d been way too overworked lately. And even though they were basically going to enjoy themselves at the water park, they were still going to do their jobs. It was a win-win situation.

The first three rides, though, brought no new revelations.

(That’s probably because Jake didn’t exactly go to great effort. Amy said she wanted to first get a feel for the slide so she could concentrate on the important things. So same thing, basically.)

(She couldn’t fool him.)

The slide wasn’t bustling with people anymore, so a race up the stairs to the top – so they wouldn’t lose precious investigating time, of course – made absolute sense.

“Ha!” Amy exclaimed as she hit the wall first. Jake made sure not to slip on the tiles as he came around the corner not a second later, out of breath and beaming. “I get to ride first this time.”

She got ready in front of the slide, the water gurgling down the dark tube. The light was green, so she put her hands on the pole over the entrance, leaned back for momentum, and flung herself down the tube. She disappeared behind the first turn, her adorable cry of “wheee” echoing back up to Jake.

He positioned himself, head turned to the side to get a good look at the light. As soon as the red would turn green, he’d use all his strength to propel himself down the slide. But the light didn’t change.

A handful of people gathered behind him during the next minutes, waiting in line and growing increasingly impatient. Was the signal broken? Was Amy stuck somewhere down the slide? Did she somehow manage to hit her head in the funnel and now she was lying there, unconscious, and whatever motion sensor was waiting for her at the end of the slide was going to leave the light red for all eternity?

Okay, maybe he was being a tad bit dramatic. But when it came to his wife, he wouldn’t take any chances. (Plus, he was so eager to go again, and he would be careful not to crash into her and everything, right?) She was probably waiting for him downstairs and he was still up here, contemplating ignoring a red light.

He had to admit, it felt slightly weird to do just that, but then he was already gone. Gravity took him down the black tube, around several corners, water splashing in his face constantly. He wasn’t able to see much until he took a sharp turn and found himself in the funnel. Strobe lights and LED cones in plenty of different colors were dancing across the walls, highlighting the path to where the slide continued.

As Jake let the centrifugal force carry him through the funnel, he almost bumped into a pair of legs.

“Ames!” he called out in surprise, his voice carrying around the funnel. “There you are!” With his feet, he decelerated, coming to a stop. It was harder than he’d imagined to climb to Amy at the side of the funnel, the stream of water constantly tugging at his feet. Not to mention the slippery ground in general. “I thought you broke the slide when the light didn’t turn green.”

“I just don’t understand,” she mumbled, narrowed eyes inspecting every inch of the funnel. “How could Pearson get hit with a dart in here? The whole slide is a closed space.”

Jake had an idea. “Maybe the killer waited for him in here. And when Pearson thought he’d waited for the green light long enough, he went in, and when he came here, all the killer had to do was shoot the dart, wait a bit and follow him out at a safe distance.”

Amy shook her head. “That’s what I thought as well, but remember what Kirkwell said? The cameras didn’t show any unusual patterns right before and after Pearson came out. The intervals in which people went on the slide and came out on the other side were all on par with the usual 30 seconds, give or take. And anyone waiting in here would have been filmed, anyway.”

“When did you even have time to look at the camera feed?”

“While you took forever to change into your trunks.”

“There was a long line by the changing rooms!” he exclaimed and gesticulated, which was a mistake. He almost lost his balance, teetering on the spot, one hand against the wall, the other hovering near Amy to use her as a support pillar if necessary.

“Careful, babe.” She took a step, one foot slipping, but she caught herself.

“Let’s try this,” he said, grabbing her hand and bracing himself against the wall with the other. She did the same and, using the wall and each other for balance, they walked through the funnel to wherever Amy wanted to go.

When she reached her destination, she pointed upwards, to one of the light machines. “This one’s not visible from any angle the camera can take. Do you see a dart pistol attached or is the light playing tricks on my eyes?”

Jake carefully stood on his tiptoes, narrowing his eyes at the small black device above. It wasn’t easy seeing clearly with the multi-colored strobes darting around. “Nah, there’s nothing. And I squinted pretty hard.”

Amy let her arms fall against her sides. “Then I don’t get it.”

“He could have brought the dart himself. Maybe he rode the slide one too many times and went crazy from the strobe lights.”

“Then he went home to prepare a poisoned dart arrow, returned, rode the slide, and impaled himself while the lights were watching.”

“Exactly– no, wait, you’re mocking me.”

She nodded with a glint in her eyes. “I am. I am mocking you.”

“Well, I feel very insulted, now I have to go to the wave pool to treat myself. Maybe some fries after?”

And there was the eye-roll he’d been waiting for. “Jake, we’re still working – okay, now you’re mocking me.”

He grinned and leaned over to kiss her, staggering a little but catching himself in time.

“Very professional, Peralta.”

“Hmm, I don’t hear you complaining when–”

Suddenly, a torrent of water flushed into the funnel, followed by a pair of feet, then legs, then the rest of a young teenage girl with dark pigtails and a red-and-black swimsuit. She eyed the pair confused while the pair stared at her, until she disappeared in the tube again, one single eyebrow raised at them.

Jake realized they made quite the sight, poising on the high side of the funnel in the middle of a dark water slide, one arm each around the other’s back while standing half a foot apart for balance, faces close, eyes wide, and Jake was sure his swim trunks were hanging a little low on his butt. He reached down to pull them up.

“Maybe we should–” Amy started, but that was when he lost his footing, and the fall was inevitable. They went down together, the water carrying them out of the funnel, Jake with his head first. The tube was too narrow, the ride too fast for him to change his position as he and Amy were flushed down the drain. All he could do was splutter and turn his face so that less water got into his nose and mouth and eyes, the tunnel’s change of lighting all but a blur of colors, like a disco lightning storm.

What could only have been about ten seconds until they landed in the pool felt more like a small eternity spent preparing for the end. Shaking his head like a dog, he wiped his hands over his face and accepted Amy’s hand helping him up.

“That was an unexpected ride,” she commented.

“Title of your sex tape.”

“Again, very professional.” But she was grinning, half the hair from her bun hanging into her face, tousled from the sudden wild journey.

He was about to retort with another “Title of your sex tape!” when he spotted something. “What if he wasn’t dead yet when he came out here?”

Amy followed his eyes, latching onto the same thing. “Oh my god!”

Simultaneously, they turned to each other and exclaimed, “The vents!”

They went to find Kirkwell who confirmed that, indeed, the vents were big enough for a person to fit into. Someone could have fired the deadly poisoned dart from up there as soon as Pearson exited the slide. Kirkwell promised to have every employee who had access to the vents at the precinct by the next day.

Jake tried to convince Amy to stay at Tropic Thunder a little longer, but she threw one look at him and he knew he didn’t stand a chance against the Amy Santiago Stern Mommy Look. It always worked on Mac, and it never failed to make Jake at least a little bit horny.

That night, Amy left a little late to Rosa’s as Jake hurried to meet the landlord.

He can’t remember if he ever arrived.

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [6] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia. Head injury, drinking. NOTE: I feel like this is shorter than usual? Though, maybe not. I was expecting it to be, but here’s the next part of this! Thank you all for keeping up with this so far.  TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid@ireallyhonestlydontcare​ @elanisha @darlingsdevil@cirillamylove@bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones

He really had missed the little loud-mouthed bastard.

It wasn’t something he really wanted to admit, as Sean likely wouldn’t let him live it down. Though, he was a little more observant than he wanted to give him credit for, so Sean may have picked up on that already. However, Arthur had put up that sarcastic, prickly front, once they had managed to rescue him from the bounty hunters. Considering the chaos it brought, it wasn’t as much of a front as it usually was. Getting that close to Blackwater, seeing the Pinkerton patrol strolling along the cliff edge near the river separating his past, his longing to head out west, and the present where they were all stuck out east. It put him on edge, along with trying to plan how they were going to get Sean back.

There was no way they were going to be able to get back into Blackwater to get the money that had been left behind, it was a realization that sat in the back of his mind. Dutch seemed to avoid all talk about it, assured him that they would get back out west. Back where they would be free. Yet, things seemed rather focused on what they were currently doing out east. Maybe he would have to get used to that.

He was forcing himself to get used to a lot of things.

Charles, Javier, and Sean had separated after they had pulled off their rescue, Arthur riding back in toward camp at a quick but somewhat relaxed pace. He was away from the border out to New Austin, away from Blackwater, and away from the commotion they had caused in the bounty hunter camp. He allowed himself to relax a bit, knowing once he got back to camp, there would be something going on.

When wasn’t there?

He didn’t fully dread going back to camp, no, but there was a bit of a tension there. Arthur had no idea what they were doing, what was coming next, but getting Sean back was at least a step in the right direction. Davey and Jenny hadn’t made it, Sean had been up in the air, now there was just Mac but...well, it was hard to tell what happened to him. Wherever he was, he just hoped he was alive. Still, most of the focus lately was on how they were going to cope with where they found themselves currently.

It was a new land, something was always happening. You had certainly found something.

Honestly, Arthur had to admit that he found it hard to believe the damn chances of just...running into your family out east. You rarely talked about your family, where you came from. ‘Out west,’ you had often said.

Out west and not worth remembering.

How ironic that was, now.

Still, much as he struggled with disbelief about your uncle living just outside Valentine, there was a touch of hope about what you had talked about with it as well. Admittedly, when you had asked to talk to him in private a night or so ago, he had started to guard himself. That the whole thing was done, that you wanted to drop what you had with him. It hadn’t been as crushing as it had been with Mary, but...well, maybe it wasn’t right to compare, considering how young his relationship was with you before all of this. Yet, he felt something, and the idea that you were going to leave him because...

Well, he couldn’t blame you for doing so because you couldn’t remember him. There was still some frustration swirling in his gut over that situation. Not toward you, you had no control over what happened on that mountain, but there was a fair amount of it toward himself and Micah. He still had yet to really know how Micah felt about his involvement in the whole thing, but it wasn’t hard to guess where he stood about it. Yet, he couldn’t exactly ask, seeing as Micah and Lenny had left to scout ahead and hadn’t returned yet. Still, Arthur...well, he had felt some sort of way when Dutch had told you, John, Micah and himself to head out into the storm to see if there was anything to be found.

A part of him had wanted to protest at having you go with Micah, but at the time...well, they needed all they could get. You had just shook your head but agreed to what Dutch had told you to do.

Now, he wished you hadn’t.

He let out a slow exhale, bringing himself back to the moment as he trotted along on his horse, bringing himself back to the moment. Arthur knew he would have to return to camp, to see about Sean, but that didn’t have to be at the very moment.

Strauss was back with his debt collecting, and Arthur was usually the one sent to collect. He had given him a list, a couple names. Lily was up in Emerald Ranch, near camp.

He could collect her debt and be back before the day was out.

                                                         ***

Camp seemed to come alive with activity, much to your confusion.

There had been a couple shouts and cheers, someone named Sean had returned. You knew the gang had lost a couple people while they were heading up into the mountain, but you hadn’t been keeping track on just who those people were. So, you had lingered back from the commotion, noticing Charles and Javier returning looking a little less thrilled, pulling some light amusement into your expression. Considering the way Sean’s voice carried as you would pass him in camp, you could start to understand why.

Sean was energetic in the face of escaping death, apparently, which made you wish you had the same outlook a couple days back when you had survived your own.

Then again, you hadn’t exactly returned the surprise and relief to be seeing these people again as they did you, and it didn’t seem like anybody was celebrating the situation they were in. Horseshoe Overlook wasn’t an abandoned, frozen, town left in the snow for time and nature to take it back again. It had certainly felt like it was being reclaimed, you didn’t miss the frigid air that leaked in from the holes in the walls and floors. Really, it made you enjoy the feeling of the sun at Horseshoe, much as the air did have a bit of a bite to it some days.

“Miss?”

The sound of a voice pulled you out of your head, making you jump slightly from where you had been lingering near a wagon, lost in thought. You hadn’t noticed someone approaching, Dutch’s voice recognized after a moment as you turned to look toward him. He stood a couple steps off from you, meeting your gaze with his eyebrows raised slightly--questioning.

“I’m sorry, Dutch,” you replied after a moment, shaking your head slightly, “I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I’d say,” he returned around a short huff, “I was hopin’ we could talk, you and I. About your situation.”

“There’s...not much to say,” you returned carefully, “I still don’t fully remember a lot, just some familiarity at certain things.”

“No reason to be wanderin’ off on your own, then?”

The question was pointed, making your eyebrows furrow slightly. Dutch met your gaze with a somewhat unreadable expression, hands on his hips as you picked up on the suspicion in his tone. A frown touched your face, a part of you wondering who had told him that you had rode out on your own--Abigail didn’t seem like she would have, but...well, the camp had guards, a number of people who could have seen you outside of her.

“I...found some family,” you replied, letting out a small sigh through your nose, “In Valentine. I had a hard time sitting around at camp knowing that, and knowing that I could run out of chances to really see if they were who I thought they were. I...I didn’t believe that was a bad thing?”

“It’s hard to say, considerin’ you know where we are but with you not rememberin’ us…”

You could pick up at what he was hinting at, your expression tightening slightly.

“I’m not leaving.” At the moment. ���I used the story you told us to use when we first got here.”

“I understand…” he started, shifting in his stance somewhat, more open but there was still something there that put you a little on edge. “This is a hard situation for you, and runnin’ into familiar faces outside of us...I understand it can be complicated. You’d always told me that you had no family, or anybody to be worried ‘bout. We’ve been takin’ care of you, all of us, even before all this. We’re a family here, too. Hope you will remember that.”

There was a tension that flooded into you at his words--did he trust you? It seemed he was willing to give you some room, but...well, his words suggested that it wasn’t complete trust. Perhaps...well, perhaps you could understand a little bit. You had wondered yourself where that odd sense of loyalty came from when it came to the idea of leaving the gang behind, considering you felt you should have been regarding them as strangers. You had to wonder, too, if they would have cut you out if you hadn’t been connected with them as much as you apparently were. The question sat on the edge of your tongue, waiting to be let out, yet you managed to hold it back.

“I understand, Dutch.”

“This ain’t a lecture,” he stated, placing a hand on your shoulder, “We’re in a situation here, and it has a lot of opportunity, but I need you to understand that.”

“I understand, I do. I haven’t given any of you away.”

He gave you a small pat before releasing his hold with a nod, leaving the conversation at that before returning to the fanfare about their returned member. You let out a slow exhale, pressing a hand against your forehead somewhat, careful not to press too heavily, much as the wound was almost healed. Dutch seemed like he tried to understand you, something you...admittedly weren’t sure on if it was just charm or actual understanding, but it made it sound like there would be issues aside from hurt feelings if you decided to leave.

Still, he hadn’t forbade you from leaving, but he made it clear that there was an expectation on which side he wanted you on.

                                                             ***

Evening rolled in as Sean got settled, the start of a party happening around camp as you had slipped off toward the back of a wagon with a rag and one of the tonics the doctor had given you. You had removed the bandage from around your head, the fabric at least not bloody anymore as you had noticed the gash healing up. Still, you soaked a bit of the rag in the tonic, placing it against the wound with a small inhale through your nose. The headaches were stepping off a bit, much as sunlight made your head throb from time to time still, but the wound itself was still a little painful to the touch.

The whole thing was supposed to help, but you had to wonder sometimes.

Though, the sound of approaching footfalls made you lift your gaze from your boots toward where the figure of someone rounded the side of the wagon you were behind. You had seen her around, and had noted her to be one of the people the gang had picked up in the mountains, though it looked like she had been put in some clean clothes. She still looked rough, you saw her around camp but you didn’t feel like she was looking for conversation. Though, the mild surprise upon seeing you had you returning the look.

“I didn’t know anybody was back here,” she commented, causing you to lower the rag a moment with a shrug.

“I wasn’t staying long, just didn’t want an audience to treating this thing…” you returned. Though, the woman, despite her words, did not really leave after that as she shifted to sit herself down on a rock across from you. Even in the gathering darkness of the evening, you could tell she looked exhausted. “You’re the woman they picked up in the mountains.”

“So are you,” she returned, her tone a little tight but you saw her focus to your forehead for a moment, “That’s a hell of a bruise.”

“Still?” you asked around a soft chuckle, “Looks worse than it feels sometimes, then.”

“I...overheard ‘round camp that you’re sufferin’ from memory problems,” she commented, making your expression drop slightly as you pressed your lips together. It wasn’t great that that was the topic of conversation when it came to you, but it wasn’t like it was a false assumption.

“...Yes. It’s been a process.”

“Might not be as much of a curse as you make it sound…” she replied, dropping her head slightly, “Would give anythin’ to forget some things.”

“I...I’m sorry,” you offered up, watching as she raised her head in a half-hearted dismissal before you started to secure the bandage back on your head. If it was still that bad, maybe you should keep it on for the time being. Though, you paused as you stood to your feet, looking her over a moment before you held your hand out with an introduction, the blonde woman glancing up toward you before she shook your hand lightly.

“Sadie Adler,” she introduced in return, letting go of your hand. You were tempted for a moment to ask if she wanted to go back out toward the main part of camp, but it didn’t seem like she was up for whatever was waiting. 

Really, you weren’t too sure how to feel about a celebration yourself with everything that was happening. However, with you noticing Abigail approaching the two of you, you found yourself just giving a nod and leaving it at that as you picked up the medicine and placed it back down near your bedroll.

The camp really was alive with this little party for Sean’s return, people talking around a fire, some singing at a table near Pearson’s wagon, and there was some cheerful tune from Dutch’s gramophone in his tent. You could see the man himself swaying to the tune with a red-haired woman in his arms--Molly, if you remembered correctly. There was also a familiar figure and shirt just across from where they were dancing, Arthur and Mary-Beth swaying along to the music as well, though a little more stiffly than Dutch and Molly beside them. The sight pulled a small huff out of your nose, an amused grin touching your features before you continued on your way toward your bedroll.

You would need to figure out where you were going to plant yourself for the night, if you weren’t just going to curl up for the night. Which sounded...fun. Though, your mind seemed to linger on the image of Arthur dancing in the back of your mind, your mind recalling the movements and even that shirt as you got the image in your mind of your hands on his shoulders. You could remember the way the touch of alcohol had made your movements a little less controlled as they usually were, no music in your ears but you could recall how the air that clung to your skin was much hotter and dry than what was at Horseshoe.

There had been some conversation, though you couldn’t recall exactly what had been said, feeling yourself laughing lightly at something that had been said. You had reached a bold hand up, cupping the side of his face in your palm, recalling the feeling of his stubble against your skin there before you had leaned up toward his face--

“There she is!”

The call pulled you out of the thought--memory?--almost as instantly as the feeling of an arm getting wrapped heavily around your shoulders did, the smell of whiskey hanging heavy against the red-haired Irishman who had settled himself against your side for a moment. Between the startle and the feeling that had hit you from the memory, you couldn’t help the small gasp as your heart hammered away in your chest, heat rushing lightly to your face.

“Avoidin’ me all day, I’m thinkin’ you didn’t miss me much,” Sean continued, releasing his hold as he moved back somewhat, stumbling enough to push aside the thought that he was saying so while sober.

“I…”

“Oh, c’mon, what’s the long faces ‘round here for, huh?” he asked, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder, “But, don’t worry. With me back in your lives, I’ll surely be able t’ bring back some joy into it.”

“It certainly looks like you’ve found plenty of that joy tonight…” you commented, deciding to play along. With how he was acting, you could suspect he may not remember it come morning.

“I am!” he exclaimed rather proudly, “You should, too! What happened? I leave for some time and you’ve forgotten how t’ have fun?”

“I haven’t,” you said around a somewhat awkward chuckle, “Don’t worry about me, just go enjoy your party.”

“I just missed you, is all,” he stated, sounding a touch sentimental, “So, go have some fun, or I might have t’ force ya.”

“Sure…” you returned, watching as he turned to return back into camp, heavy with drink. You let out a quick breath, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Christ’s sake…” you muttered--just one thing after another today.

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

1 and Phrack, 1 and ppphhrrraaaccckkkk!!!!!

Oh, fun! I’ve never written a soulmates au before, and having sadly missed the MFMM Year of Tropes, I’m excited for the opportunity to try my hand at this one! Thanks so much for the prompt!

-------

“Excuse me, I think you’re my soulmate.”

“Your what?”

Jack coughs and feels the tips of his ears turning red. “My, uh, my soulmate.”

The stranger leans back in her chair and regards him with an expression that can best be described as wary, then wrinkles her nose. “Oh god, you're not one of those cultists, are you?”

Jack shakes his head, but it does nothing to dispel the blush. “No. I just saw the, uh,” he waves vaguely at her person, “mark on your wrist, and thought it was interesting. It matches mine, you see.”

She crosses her arms and offers him a wry smile. “Does it now?”

It does. The new angle is currently obscuring it, but he is sure they are an exact match. Which had surprised him, of course, when he’d caught sight of her in the library. Strange enough to see a woman in the reference section at this hour of night to begin with, but one with his exact soulmark? It was odd enough to pull him over despite his natural reticence.

She turns her wrist again and holds it up, an offering and a test. Jack looks around the library and decides it’s empty enough to humour her. He takes off his suit coat jacket and unbuttons both his waistcoat and the top of his shirt, pulling his tie to the side as he does. There, just above his heart, is an identical mark to hers: it looks vaguely like a sword flanked by two triangles, with enough swirls and loops to make it completely unique in the world.

Well, completely unique save one.

She nods at it, satisfied that it is a match for the one on her wrist, and he puts himself back to rights, still a little surprised that hers is so visible. It’s unusual for a soulmark to be so publicly placed, but not unheard of, and despite just meeting her he thinks the brashness of it rather matches the woman in question. You couldn’t remove them, of course, soulmarks were with you for life, but people with visible ones often altered them with specially calibrated tattoos, turning it into a complicated design instead of an easily recognizable symbol. That she hadn’t said she wanted people to see it. 

“So,” she begins, closing her book (something about forensic toxicology and he is even more intrigued) and watching him carefully, “you’re not planning to ask me to marry you, are you?”

Jack chuckles. “No,” he assures her. He isn’t one of those cultists after all. Jack, like most of the modern world, has moved past soulmarks, considers them a quaint reminder of a more primitive time. He’d never even looked for his match before, had married a woman with a mark that didn’t remind him at all of his own. A woman he’d loved. Truly. And while their marriage had not lasted, it had fallen victim to a more primitive experience, war, and not the antiquated notions of soulmates. 

“No,” he repeats. “But I wouldn’t mind a drink if you’re not busy. I never expected to meet my soulmark companion - it might be nice to share a pint.”

She considers his offer, and finally nods her agreement. “Make it a whisky and you have a deal.”

They do.

It turns out to be the first of many. 

He likes her. A lot. And while nothing romantic comes of it (she’s absolutely beautiful, but for some reason there’s no spark) there is no mistaking the connection, and it leads to something Jack values even more - genuine friendship. She likes the same whisky as him, barracks for the same team, chuckles at the same jokes. She is sardonic like him and a workaholic like him and a little lonely like him. It just… fits.

And then one day he meets her friend, who is none of those things, but who he can’t take his eyes off of all the same. 

They are at her birthday party, a fairly raucous affair, crowded with members of her Adventuresses’ Club.

“Mac,” he whispers during a rare moment alone with her during the festivities. “Who is that?”

Mac looks up, sees who he is indicating, and rolls her eyes.

“Trouble,” she says, taking a rather generous sip of her whisky.

Jack shoots her an imploring look and she sighs. “The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher. But I really think my first answer is more accurate.”

He cocks an eyebrow and she relents.

“Here.” Mac takes out a pen and writes down some information on her medical pad. “This is where you can reach her. All I ask is that you never tell me about any of it.” Jack opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off. “And before you go having a crisis of conscience, she already asked me about the ‘dish in the well-cut suit’ so she’ll be fine with you calling on her.”

He doesn’t.

Because while very good whisky might make him momentarily brave, he’s not the kind of man to just call on strange women because he finds them breathtaking and can’t get their laugh out of his head. He resigns himself to never seeing her again. 

And then… and then there is a crime scene. Banter and brilliance. Wild surmise and wicked smiles. His best friend’s oldest friend's newest enterprise.

The Honourable Miss Fisher, Lady Detective.

More crime scenes, more banter, more promise in both of their smiles. More smiles in general.

More eyerolls from Mac.

Phryne’s soulmark is also on her wrist, and he wonders if the two women were drawn to each other because of their respective placements. He comments on it once, the sinuous lines remind him of a snake, but he doesn’t mention that part.

“It’s an asp,” she tells him, then laughs at his surprised expression.

He looks at her again and realizes that she does indeed make hungry where most she satisfies.

It fits.

He falls. Hard. Doesn’t realize how hard until he’s standing next to a crashed automobile, and, seeing an unfamiliar and blank wrist peeking out from the covering, suddenly can’t breathe.

It is an ugly falling out, followed by a tentative truce, followed by a friendship patched back together piece by piece, but stronger this time, because now they know where the weak parts are and can work harder to reinforce them, together.

More crime scenes, more banter, more trouble saying goodnight at the end of the day.

Mac is basically a saint by now and reminds them of this often.

He waltzes her at The Grand and she catches him looking at her wrist as they finish.

“We’re not soulmates,” she reminds him, perhaps thinking him disappointed, and he nods.

“I do believe in soulmates,” he tells her slowly, expressing his somewhat complicated opinion on the matter as simply as he can. “But I don’t believe that they are predestined. I think they’re something you work for, work at. I believe you choose your soulmate. And who you give your heart to.”

They do not say goodnight at the end of that day.

Together in her bedroom, he slowly undresses her, and she returns the favour. She is faster, though, and when she pulls off his vest, she gasps in surprise. 

“What?” he asks, worried something is wrong.

She doesn’t speak, just points at his mark.

“Yes?” Jack is confused; true, she’s never seen his before, but everyone has one. 

Phryne responds by removing her camisole and it is Jack’s turn to gasp.

There, just under her heart, is an identical mark to his own.

He looks at her wrist, sees the now familiar lines that twist up in a coil, the lines he had always believed were her soulmark. “But I thought…”

She shakes her head, takes a deep breath. “After the War,” she begins slowly, “Mac and I tattooed the other’s mark on our wrists. We’d been through so much together by then and we decided… ” She points to the snake-like image on her skin. “This is Mac’s mark. The one she was born with.”

“Why?” he asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

“Well, Jack, it’s as you say; you choose your soulmate.” She shakes her head again, smiling this time, and leans over to kiss him, deeply, full of promises. When she pulls back, her forehead is resting on his. “And who you give your heart to.”

Jack nods, smiling as well, and kisses the mark on her wrist and then the one on her heart with equal adoration. 

Taking his hand in her own, Phryne turns and leads him to the bed, looking at Jack’s mark as she does. “Mac never told me, you know. She never said a word.”

“No?” he asks.

“No,” she replies.

It’s the last time either of them say the word for a while - the rest of the night is simply filled with yes.

-------

Their marks match.

And it never matters to them at all.

They choose each other. 

| Short Fic Ask |

[fandomrewrites]

Season 1; Episode 12: Code Breaker

Hi all! I’m in a Teen Wolf mood and since this is the last chapter for season 1 I decided to post it today rather than waiting for Monday. I have a good amount of season 2 posted on my Wattpad, the chapters just need to be edited before I post them on here. I hope you all have enjoyed season 1 and the journey that (Y/N) McCall has been on so far. As always constructive criticism is appreciated!

Season 1; Episode 12: Code Breaker

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: Swearing and death

Word Count: 2,588

Season 1 Masterlist

Peter still had a death grip on my arm, but I was happy he at least didn’t have his claws on my neck anymore.

Stiles was kneeling beside Lydia’s head, obviously concerned for the strawberry blonde.

“Let’s go.” Peter snapped.

“No. We can’t just leave her here.” Stiles said, looking up.

“You are both coming with me. You don’t have a choice.”

“Then kill me. I don’t care.”

“You would care if I killed her.” Peter once again put his hand around my throat. I stayed silent, just wishing this night would end.

Before Stiles could reply, Peter sighed, “Call your friend. Tell Jackson where she is. That’s all you get.”

Stiles then pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jackson’s number, quickly telling him where Lydia was. After he hung up, the three of us made our way to Stiles’ jeep and drove away from the school.

As we were driving down the road, Stiles’ hands gripped the steering wheel. Peter glanced at Stiles, “Oh, don’t feel so bad. If she lives she’ll turn into a werewolf. She’ll be incredibly powerful.”

“Yeah, and once a month she’ll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear me apart.” Stiles replied sarcastically.

“Actually, considering she’s a woman... Twice a month.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head once the words left his mouth; still I decided to stay silent, trying to think of a plan to get us out of this situation.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles parks next to a car in a rather empty parking garage. We all got out of the jeep and stepped up to the car.

Peter drags us over to the car and pops the trunk, “Who’s car is this?” Stiles asks.

“It belonged to my nurse.”

Hearing his word choice I instantly asked, “What happened to your nurse?”

I was looking at Peter when I asked, but he didn’t need to answer because I heard Stiles whisper, “Oh my God.”

I looked at the trunk of the car. Inside was Peter’s nurse staring blankly back at us.

“I got better.” Peter casually says as he lifts the nurses arm up to reach for a laptop bag.

Peter slams the trunk closed and places the laptop bag on top. He unzips the bag, pulls the laptop out, and turns it on.

“Good luck getting a signal down here.” Stiles deadpans.

Peter responds by handing Stiles a small black device with a label that reads AT&T MiFi.

“Mifi? And you’re a Mac guy. Does that go for all werewolves or just a personal preference?” I smirk at Stiles’ words.

“Turn it on and get it connected.”

Stiles does as told, “You’re still going to need Scott’s username and password. And sorry, but I don’t know them.”

“You know both. And if you don’t, she does.”

“No I don’t.” Stiles and I say in unison.

“Even if I couldn’t hear your heartbeat, I’d still be able to tell you’re lying.”

Stiles, clearly frustrated, replies, “Dude, I swear I don’t know.”

Peter grabs the back of his neck and pulls him close, “I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don’t make me have to persuade you.”

Stiles quickly nods and once Peter pulls away he begins typing.

Looking over Stiles’ shoulder, I see a screen pop up with the words Where’s my phone. Stiles lets his hands hover over the keyboard as he asks, “What happens when you find Derek?”

“Don’t think, Stiles. Just type.”

“You’re going to kill people, aren’t you?”

“Only the responsible ones.”

“If I do this, will you leave Scott out of it?”

Peter sighs, “Do you know why wolves hunt in packs? Because their favored prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I need Derek and Scott. Both of them.”

Before Stiles can reply, I speak up, “He’s not going to help you.”

“He will if it saves Allison. And Stiles is going to help me, because it will save you and Scott.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks as I knit my eyebrows together.

“Well I won’t kill or turn (Y/N) if you help. And for Scott... Well if they catch him, you really think they’re going to let him live? Especially after having been that close to one of their own?”

Peter then guides Stiles’ hands back towards the keyboard. He quickly types in Scott’s username: Allison

I roll my eyes at the same time Peter says, “His username is Allison?”

Stiles then continues to type in Scott’s password. “His password is also Allison?” Peter asks in disbelief.

I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose, God Scott is stupid.

We wait in silence as the GPS map locating Scott’s phone loads. I tilt my head in confusion when I see the location, “They’re keeping him at his own house?”

“Not at it. Under it.”

“Huh?”

“The tunnel and basement I used to escape during the fire. I know exactly where it is.” Peter’s head then snaps to the side, clearly hearing something that neither Stiles nor I can, “And I’m not the only one...”

Peter then quickly puts the laptop away and tosses the laptop bag into the backseat of the car. Before Peter shuts the door he slightly tips his head listening to something. Again Stiles and I look around but hear nothing.

Peter then slams the door shut and holds out his hand, “Give me your car keys.”

Stiles hands them over, “Careful, she grinds in second.”

Without a word Peter crushes the key with his bare hand then hands them back over to Stiles.

My mouth hangs open as Stiles asks, “Are you going to kill us now?”

“Don’t you understand yet? I’m not the bad guy here.” There is a quick pause, “I like you both. And since you helped me I’ll give you something in return. Do you want the bite?”

“Are you crazy? Hell no.” I immediately reply.

At the same time Stiles looks shocked and says, “What?”

Peter moves to grab Stiles arm, “Do you want the bite? (Y/N) told me her answer but you haven’t.” There’s another pause before Peter continues, “You’d be every bit as powerful as Scott. No more standing by his side watching him become stronger and quicker, more popular. Watching him get the girl. You’ll be equals. Or maybe more. Maybe for once in your life, you’ll exceed expectations. Yes or no?”

I elbow Stiles in the ribs breaking him out of his thought. Stiles quickly rips his arm away from Peter, “I don’t want to be like you.”

“You know what I heard just then? Your heart beating slightly faster over the words, I don’t want. You can believe you’re telling me the truth. But you are lying to yourself.”

Peter then turns away and gets into the car. He pulls out of the parking space leaving Stiles and myself behind.

*_*_*_*_*_*

“UGH! This means we need to walk! I’m in heels! Fuck Peter!”

Stiles looked at me and quickly slid off his shoes, “Here. Let’s walk back to the school. It’s closer than the hospital and you have Lydia’s car there.”

I nodded, “I left my phone and keys inside, hopefully they’ll still be there. And are you sure you want to walk barefoot?”

“It’s fine (Y/N/N). It will be more comfortable then you walking in heels.”

I nodded once more and quickly stepped out my heels and slid on Stiles shoes. They were slightly too big but were definitely more comfortable than my heels.

As we made our way out of the parking garage Stiles noticed me shiver. He wordlessly shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“Stiles, you’re going-”

“You’ll freeze. I’m more covered than you.”

“But Stiles-”

“Stop arguing.” He shook his head and I sighed , finally accepting the jacket.

Stiles and I then continued our trek back to the school in silence. The doors were still unlocked as people were still cleaning up. I quickly retrieved my purse and Stiles and I made our way to the hospital to check on Lydia.

I gave Stiles back his shoes once we made it to the hospital but he insisted on me keeping the jacket. We finally rushed upstairs to the ICU to find Lydia.

Everyone in the waiting room looks up at us as Sheriff Stilinski says, “There he is.”

He rushes towards us the says to Stiles, “It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital. Because I’m going to kill you.”

“It’s my fault Mr. Stilinski. Stiles and I both lost our keys. I insisted that we stay and find mine at least because they’re technically Lydia’s since she’s letting me borrow her car and I didn’t want her to have more bad news after this.”

Mr Stilinski nods, “They don’t know how she is. Partially because they don’t know what happened. She lost a lot of blood, but there’s something else going on with her.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks.

“They’re saying it’s like some kind of allergic reaction. Her body is just going into shock.”

I suck in a breath and nearly collapse. Before I can, Stiles wraps an arm around me and Mr. Stilinski looks at me concerned, “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

I nod and rapidly blink, trying desperately to stop myself from crying. I hug my arms to my body and lean against Stiles as Mr. Stilinski asks, “Did either of you see anything at all? Any idea who or what attacked her?”

All Stiles and I can do is shake our heads. Mr. Stilinski sighs, “What about Scott?”

“What about him?” Stiles asks.

“Did he see anything?”

“He’s not here?” I finally speak.

“I’ve been calling him, but there’s not response.”

“You won’t get one.” Stiles answers.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I separate from Stiles and leave him to talk with his dad when I spot Jackson. I quietly make my way over to him and we sit in a comfortable silence.

“We should go find Stiles. We can’t do anything for Lydia here.”

“Yeah, I know.” I sigh, then quickly follow Jackson out of the waiting room and into the corridor, searching for Stiles.

We quickly find him in the hall and Stiles starts to pull me away from Jackson.

Before we make it far Jackson speaks up, “Where are you going?”

“(Y/N) and I need to find Scott.”

“I’ll drive.”

“No way, I am not cramming into your backseat. I have Lydia’s car, I’ll drive.”

We all turn to make our way out of the hospital but come face to face with Mr. Argent.

“Boys. (Y/N).” He nods and smiles at us, “I was wondering if you could tell me where Scott is?”

“Scott? Haven’t seen him since the dance. (Y/N), Jackson?”

I quickly shake my head and pull my lips into a thin line, but Jackson just gapes at Argent. Seeing Jackson’s response, Stiles and I both roll our eyes.

Two of Argent’s hunters shove Stiles and Jackson through the door into the morgue. Mr. Argent grips my shoulder tightly and guides me into the room after them.

“Let’s try this again. Where is Scott McCall?” Argent let’s go of my shoulder and moves to Stiles, throwing him against the wall, “Let me ask you something, Stiles. Have you ever seen a rabid dog?”

“No, but I’ll put it on my to-do list if you let me go.”

Argent ignores his comment, “I have. And there’s only one thing I’ve ever been able to compare it to. Seeing a friend of mine turn on the night of a full moon. Do you want to know what happened?”

I answered for Stiles, “I don’t think any of us care, sir.”

Argent glanced at me but once again ignored the comment, “He tried to kill me and I was forced to shoot him in the head. But even while he lay dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me. Still trying to kill me like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. Can you imagine that?”

Argent then pulls Stiles closer, “Did Scott try to kill you on the last full moon? Did you have to lock him up?”

“Yeah, I did. Handcuffed him. Would you prefer I put him in a basement and burn the house down around him?”

“Sorry to dispel a popular rumor, but we never did that.”

I scoff and Stiles continues, “Oh, right. Derek said you had some kind of code. I guess no one breaks it.”

“Never.” Argent confirms.

“Yeah, well what if someone did?” I ask.

Argent then turns to me, grip still on Stiles, “Like who?”

“Your sister.” We answer together.

*_*_*_*_*_*

We explained to Argent how we know about Kate being the cause of the Hale fire. We then separated, allowing Mr. Argent to go after his sister.

Stiles, Jackson, and I head to the school to make some of those self-igniting fire bombs Lydia made that night at the school. What? We didn’t want to go there completely defenseless.

When we finally arrived at the Hale house, Derek, Scott, Allison, Mr. Argent, and Peter were all outside fighting.

We quickly pulled to a stop and got out of the car. Stiles throws his Molotov cocktail but peter easily catches it.

Scott then tosses Allison her crossbow so she can shoot the glass. The glass explodes and fire quickly spreads down Peter’s arm. I then throw mine and it hits Peter’s shoulder, spreading fire down his other arm.

Lastly, Jackson throws his. The glass breaks when it hits Peter’s torso, bursting instantly into flames. He lets out an ear piercing shriek and slowly drops to the ground, changing back into a human.

We all stay silent as Allison slowly makes her way to Scott and kiss him.

Derek, finally recovered from the fight, makes his way over to a barely breathing Peter. Derek squats beside Peter’s head, claws extended.

“Wait! You said the cure comes from the one who bit you.” Scott speaks before Derek can kill his uncle.

Derek hesitates, he looks up at Scott as he speaks once more, “You d this and I’m dead. Her father, her family... What am I supposed to do?”

Without a second thought, Derek raises his hand and slashes down, severing Peter’s throat.

He slowly stands back up and turns around, revealing glowing red eyes, “I’m the Alpha now.”

Derek then disappears into the shadows.

*_*_*_*_*_*

The next day Scott, Stiles, and I all go to the hospital to sneak into Lydia’s room.

“Shut the door.” Scott whispers.

Stiles slowly starts to push the door but it makes a loud squeal. The three of us cringe and then even more slowly Stiles tries to shut the door once more.

But once again the door squeals. Stiles stops again before continuing. He finally gets the door shut and we quietly make our way to Lydia’s side.

“Do it.” Stiles says to Scott.

“You do it.” Scott replies.

I narrow my eyes at the two idiots, “I’ll do it.”

I slowly peel off the bandage on Lydia’s side to reveal a bloody and scabbed wound. “It’s not healed.”

“I don’t get it. The doctors said she was going to be fine.” Stiles breaths out.

“But the bit isn’t healing like it did with me. Which means she’s not a werewolf.”

“Then what the hell is she?”

[melyaliz]

Past loves and future babies pt. 5

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary: Trying to Dance over their issues 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC

Notes: This took a bit of a turn I wasn’t planning but I actually like it this way. Let me know what you guys think 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

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Giggles, they bubbled up and floated around the room filling it with fizzy magic. Steve tried to remember a time he had come home to such a sound. And if so, it had been a long time. There had been so much silence after Thanos. And before that the noise was anything but laughter. When you are on the run laughter wasn’t really a daily occurrence.   

Dixie stood in the middle of the living room in a sports bra and legging stretching. Her phone propped up on a chair where she was watching something. Her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as the light back lit her in a way that made her almost look like she was glowing. 

She looked so different from the girl yesterday. So much more relaxed, in her own element. 

Bucky was right. He didn’t know this woman at all. But she didn’t know him either. And at least he was in his own home. She had left everything and everyone for this. 

Part of him debated just leaving. Letting her enjoy herself without him around to ruin it. 

“Hello Mr. America.” 

Too late. 

She smiled up at him from her warrior on3. A big cheesy grin that seemed to light up the already bright room. It was infectious and he couldn’t help but smile back. Standing up she pulled at her ponytail.

“Don’t stop on my account” 

“Ohh enjoying the view of my sweaty body?” she giggled swaying her hips as her hands moved over her body in an exaggeratedly sexy motion. She was silly, something Steve was slowly learning more and more. 

“So what are your plans today?” 

“Wasn’t really sure, what do you guys do for fun around here?”

“Well Sam enjoys the large media room, Bucky and I like to hike around the property, Wanda and Vision normally cook, It really just depends.” 

Dixie nods thinking it over about to respond when her stomach spoke for her. Letting out a loud growl. Chuckling Steve nodded toward the kitchen.

“Have you eaten?” 

“Lunch sounds amazing, I was going to shower and then figure out how to work that fancy kitchen.” 

“I can start something if you would like to take a shower.” 

“I won’t say no to a hot guy making me food” Dixie giggled spinning around heading for the bedroom, “Be back in a bit” 

“Take your time” Steve called after her fighting back a smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It seemed like she was startling to settle into the place. Plus making food would hel[. Something to do. Something he can control. 

Dixie sighed letting the warm water wash over her. Trying to clean away any anxiety she was feeling about being alone with Steve again. It was weird because at this point they had (quite literally) slept together. But she still felt like she was with a complete stranger. 

A beautiful stranger 

But a stranger none the less. 

Although as she walked back into the main room watching Steve walk around the kitchen he didn’t feel that much of a stranger. His blue eyes met her as she came closer. A platter of meats and cheeses.

“I figured you could make your own sandwich if you want or just eat whatever.” 

“Ohhh so fancy” Dixie giggled, “Is that wine?”  

He smiled pouring her a glass, “It is” 

“You know how to make a girl feel special.” 

“So what did you do for fun?” Steve asked, helping himself to some meat and cheese.

“Oh I’m just a simple girl, some binging Netflix is always fun. I am very partial to cheesy 80’s action movies.” Memories of her and Mac sitting on a beat up old couch they had gotten from craigslists with a pack of cheap beer between them. Laughing like nothing else mattered. Calling out lines and guessing what would happen next.  

It felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Oh and what made the 80’s so cheezy?” Steve perked up, many people had recommended things to him but cheesy 80’s action hadn’t been one of them. He was honestly not even sure what that was. 

“Oh man I forgot you missed stuff.” Dixie said taking a sip of her drink mulling it over. Would it even make sense to a man who spent most of his life in the 30’s and 40’s. 

“Yeah, I have been keeping a list of things I need to catch up on.” Steve said, pulling it out. Dixie instantly lighting up.

“Wait you have a real honest to goodness list, lemme see!” 

Taking it she flipped over the pages, “Man Star Wars? It’s insane to me that you missed all this stuff. I mean it makes sense but… golly gosh jeez whiz” 

Steve raised an eyebrow fighting back a smile, “Jeez whiz?” 

“Yeah old man, we are going to have to start working on this.” The idea of experiencing movies like Indiana Jones and the Matrix with someone who didn’t know anything making her excited. 

“Actually I had a better idea.” picking up a remote he clicked play. Soft music started to play. Moving around the large island that broke up the kitchen and the living room he held out his hand to Dixie who watched him. Her playful smile slowly melting from her face. Eyes studying him intently. Unsure.

“What?” she asked, looking from his hand to his bright blue eyes. Her stomaching flopping slightly. Shuttering as if she was standing on the edge of something. Something high up. That vertigo, gravity pulling you down. 

“Can I have this Dance?”

She felt sick, slightly off balance, “Are you serious?”

“Don’t like dancing?”

“I’m not very good” 

Steve wasn’t stupiud, he saw the shift in her. Bucky’s words coming back to him. You’re a stranger to her as well. “It’s ok, I… I want to try ok” 

Dixie wasn’t really sure what try meant. Try dancing? Try to get to know each other? Try romance? Try, the small voice in the back of her head sang. Try something. 

Slowly she slipped her hand into his, those unbalancing nerves swaying even harder as his hand gripped hers. She was fighting her better judgement. All the warning bells that told her to step away from the ledge. But he was right. They had to try. The world was counting on them. And if this would help him commit to their destiny then she would have to give a little. 

As she followed him into the center of the living room she hoped it was worth it. Hoped that no matter what happened it didn’t crash and burn around them. That she could navigate herself between that fine line of caring for someone and not falling in love.  

He smiled down at her as the music played slowly moving. She giggled again and his smile grew. 

“You have a great laugh.” 

“Uh, thank you. I like your smile. The real one anyway.” 

“Real one?” 

“Yeah not that uptight, I’m trying to make you feel at least one. This one.” she pointed toward his face and nodded her approval. 

“I guess I should apologize for being so… uptight.” 

“It’s ok” she nodded, “This whole situation is kind of…”

“Awkward?” 

“Eminently.” 

“Well at least we are on the same page.” 

“If there is one thing I have learned growing up as an awkward kid was” Dixie paused for a moment, “Lean it to the awkward.” she leaned forward as she spoke her bright eyes looking up at him. He smiled down unable to picture the beautiful woman in his arms as an awkward kid. However, some could say the same about him.  

“Ok then,” he said leaning forward, his forehead brushing against her’s. Their faces only a breath apart. Barely touching, eyes locked on one another. Caught up in the moment. “I’m going to kiss you.” Steve whispered his words drifting through her gently stirring something deep inside that made her shiver as he broke that abyss between them meeting her lips with his own. 

Steve’s kiss felt like a question. Asking her what she wanted, asking himself if this was right. His kisses were always slightly hesitant, holding back slightly. Searching as if looking for something that wasn’t there. 

Or maybe someone. 

As he slowly pulled away Dixie licked her lips. Trying to hold back the words that raced through her mind. Suspicions that seemed to be slowly confirmed with each passing second. 

“What is it?” 

“What?” Steve looked down at her confused, “What is what?” 

“There is something wrong, what is it.”

“It’s not you” it was quick, defensive. Dixie couldn’t help but take a slight offence to it. 

“I never said it was” her voice soft, eyebrow raised slightly. Hard eyes studying him, peeling down the layers of the man in front of her. Trying to understand who he was. What had happened to him. 

Steve sighed looking away for a moment. Heart heavy. Memories of wounds that hadn’t healed yet. Were still fresh. Still bleed deeper than any of the scars on his body. 

Peggy. 

“What?” Dixie asked again, her hand gently rubbing his arm. He met her gaze, deep blue and so broken. It hurt her. All those fears she had about her own walls. They were nothing to whatever was pushing away from. 

Because he was already broken. He was suffering from what she had feared for herself.

“Try me.” 

“I… it’s not you” his words empty, hollow. Like a plea trying to protect her. Trying to fall on the sword for a woman he didn’t even know. Trying to be strong. 

“I’m a good listener.” she let out a soft chuckle, “When I want to be.” 

“I just,” he sighed, running his fingers through his blonde hair. Unsure. Knowing it was wrong but… he needed to let it out. Needed to try and push this pain away. And then he looked down at her. Wide eyes looking back at him. Waiting. This wasn’t her fault. This wasn’t for her. She was just some girl. “Forget it”

Turning he walked toward the stereo turning off the music “This was a bad idea.”

“What?” Dixie felt herself flush with anger. Heat building up burning inside her bright and hot. “Don't you walk away from me Steve Rogers!” She snapped grabbing his arm. He froze turning shocked. 

“W….”

“I gave up everything to be here the LEAST you could do is be honest with me!” frustration building up. Bubbling from where deep inside her. The injustice of it all. Reminding Her again and again. She was the only one trying.  

“Don’t push it.” his words flat, a warning. Tired but a warning. 

“Try me,” she said again, crossing her arms over her chest. Holding on tight to herself. Trying to hold back all the things she really wanted to say to this man in front of her, “what are you scared of?” 

“I’m not scared” he said, “I’m FINE” 

“Clearly, you can’t even get it up” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You can’t even do what I’m here for, something is blocking you WHAT. IS. IT?” with each word she thrust her finger into his hard chest. Pushing him. Forcing him to take a step back. It didn't hurt but… it made him mad. Who did she think she was? 

“Stop that,” he said, grabbing her hand.

“Stop what? Trying to get to know you? One of us has to try!” 

“I’m trying” 

“Yes because running away the moment you could is trying SO hard” 

“Are you mad I left this morning?” 

“I’m mad you won’t talk to me!” 

“I’m talking to you right now!”

“No you’re not, you are trying to pour sugar over shit. Asking me to dance. Letting me decorate my room. Kissing me” she pulled her hand out of his pushing him with both of hers with enough force that he took a step back word, slightly off balance. Was it just him or were her hands hot? A heat that spread across his body.

“DAMN IT Dixie STOP!” 

“Stop what!?!” she snapped pushing him again. “At least one of us is trying!”

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here!” he snapped, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Shattering his strong glass box that increased his emotions. Shards scattering around them tearing at them. Ripping through their insecurities and doubts. 

“What?” 

“You want to know the truth, woman? I’m not even supposed to be here.” 

“What do you mean you weren’t even supposed to be here…” her voice was hoarse, laced with shock “were you going to die?” Memories of her own childhood rushing back. Darknesses that creeped in when no one was around. When it felt like she could never be free. 

Her question was like ice water on his fire. Cooling him off so that he was standing there gasping for air. 

“No I… I was going to leave everything for someone.” 

“I…” she stammered unsure how or what to say. All her suspicions confirmed yet so many more questions filling her up. 

“Like I said it’s not you,” he said, turning. His words ripped into her. A million cuts pouring out polling around her. His large back to her unable to face her and what his truth would do to her. 

It only took a few steps and he was gone. Out the door. Running from her. From the reality that not only had he ruined his own life with his delusions but someone else’s too 

Like she said. She gave everything to come here. 

To a broken man  

 ------------------------------------

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[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

The Things We Tell Ourselves

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: for the amazing @coffee-obsessed-writer​ . This story means so mch to me, I put very personal emotions into.

Warning: relationship issues, a bit of smut in the end (not too graphic).18&over.

Summary: Stuck in a stale relationship, a visit from Dean Winchester changes everything.

The dive bar was your typical joint, neon decorate lights, a wet look to it, and old country music that would depress the happiest of people – it was your kind of place, a dark secluded secret lair you often went to when things at home got too bad. Now, your ex or at least soon to be ex, was not an overly bad person. He had been great in the beginning, but things had fizzled a few years too late and now you were stuck in a gaping hole that was proving to be hard to climb out. You were a creature of habit and admittedly, afraid to investigate a future that did not involve the ex. It seemed you were just plain ole stuck and that was a reality you were not up to facing – at least, not tonight.

Work had proven to be a painstakingly long day and when you arrive home to the apartment you shared with, he who shall not be named, you were relieved to not see his car in the carport. He must have stayed longer or maybe he was having an affair – you preferred the latter, that way you did not have to feel for not wanting to see him. Maybe he was really having an affair, an idea that swelled the urge to leave the relationship. It would make it easier to leave him, but he was never an adventurous person and an affair would require effort, something he was not known to put forth.

Edging on the bar stool, you asked for another whiskey on the rocks. You waited patiently for the drink because you had nowhere else to go or wanted to. Although your ears perked up when someone had finally done everyone a favor and changed the sad country song to a sad Fleetwood Mac ballad. It was smoother on the ears and when the drink arrived, you grabbed it and held it up in the air – saluting the music changer. It was the little things in life, right? That was what you told yourself, every time things seemed to become stale and gray. You would buy a new dress or style your hair differently, anything to arouse something out of the man you thought you loved. Nothing ever worked and you secretly were grateful, more satisfied with the effort.

Drinking the whiskey, you started to think of excuses to not go home; maybe someone would kidnap you, a handsome stranger who was kind but a little rough around the edges. Someone who knew how to treat a woman, knew how to not make her bitter. It wasn’t like you were asking for the world, just a little devotion and a whole lot of appreciation – was that so bad to ask?

Were you the one looking for too much?

When did this all become so cliché?

You could not pinpoint when it all started, but you remembered the day you realized something was wrong. He was gone for a weekend, went to visit some old friends and you had never felt freedom like that before. Slept in, lounged around reading, and when you finally ventured out for some late lunch, you met a man. You were dining alone, and he was seated at the next table, he was handsome and when he noticed the book you had brought to read, he initiated a conversation. It turned out he was an English teacher and very much single, he joined you at the table and the two of you talked about books for two straight hours. It was thrilling, the attention he was giving you and when he asked for your number, you regretfully declined, and that was when you realized how starved you were. Starved for human reaction other than paying bills and asking about recorded television shows. You craved real affection and connection, and that day, you noted that it was the first time in a long time that you felt any connection with a man – and he was not the one you were going home to.

After that, you pulled away from your relationship with your long-term boyfriend and it hurt when he did not seem to notice or care. You should have left long ago, but now it seemed damn near impossible. Too many things locking you in – an apartment lease, a car lease under both your names and other things that came with coupling. But were those just excuses?

Of course, they were.

“Another whiskey, please.”

“Sure thing.”

That was number three now, but nothing could fill the void in your stomach, and that was when he popped into your head. Not the will he ever be ex, no not him. The he you suddenly were thinking about was Dean Winchester – a man you had known for years now, a friend that helped your father when some things came bumping in the night.

Now this is where the story might get odd, hell, the Winchester’s were an urban legend in many people’s books, but to you, they were just Sam and Dean. Their problems seemed far more superior than your bad relationship woes – real life monsters, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, and everything else in between.  The thing was, you came from a line of supernatural hunters, but dipped out of that life pretty early on, opting for a more normalized existence. Sometimes you regretted it, when those phone calls would come in from Dean- every few months, updating you on the hunter life and declaring you were missing out. You never knew what number he would call from, so you always made sure to pick up every time your cell rang.

Dean Winchester was a man, a man God himself foretold to be something more than ordinary, but to you, he was just a boy you once knew. Your fathers were decent friends and growing up, Dean and Sam would spend time at your house whenever your dads went off on a hunt together. You were the same age and more times than not, would exclude Sammy from the teenage fun you’d find yourself in. Drinking from your dad’s cabinet, watching adult films and being completely grossed out, even once the two of you kissed. It was fleeting and innocent, but you had never forgotten it and sometimes, when it was quiet at night, you still thought of it.

You were thinking of it now, and it made your skin warm, toes curl and throat clench. So, you asked for water this time and drank it fast, little bits dripped from the corner of your mouth. It was one kiss, but it meant more to you than any other kiss you participated in after. It meant more to you than the peak of your current relationship, when things were actually great, and you were happy. It felt silly, to fixate on childish things but Dean had always held a special place in your heart.

Just thinking about Dean was making you nervous, so when your phone started to buzz and you saw that it was an unknown number calling, you nearly threw up. Taking a deep breath, you placed a hand on the bar for support and answered it with a quiet voice.

“Hello?”

A long pause met you and a second later a laugh of relief filled your ears. His voice was husky and sexy, and when he said your name, you smiled so wide, it hurt the corner of your mouth. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“It is? That’s good? But how good would it be to see my face?”

Confused, you asked what he meant.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

Whipping around on the stool, you nearly fell when you saw Dean – he was standing near the bar entrance, wearing jeans, a gray flannel and a green jacket over it. His hair was cut in a different style then you had seen last, hair swept up a bit. It made him look a bit more modern, but nonetheless handsome. He grinned and started toward you, but you met him halfway and held him tight as he embraced you.

“What the hell are you doing here,” you asked, hands on his biceps as you pulled away. He shrugged, explaining that Sam and he were passing through, and he could not pass up the chance to see me.

“I went to your apartment and that douchebag you call a boyfriend said he didn’t know where you were. I asked him what kind of boyfriend doesn’t know where his girlfriend was, he wasn’t too keen on my attitude.”

“He’ll live.”

Dean rolled his eyes but hugged you again. “Anyway, called your pops. He told me you had a favorite bar you went to, didn’t know the name. This was the third bar in town I checked, lucky me.”

Your hands stayed on his forearms until he threw his arm around your shoulder and walked you back to the bar, asking if you already had too much to drink.  “We plan on staying through tomorrow night, figured we could do some catching up.”

“That sounds great, Dean. I would love nothing more.”

He smiled wide and leaned in to kiss your forehead, telling you whatever you wanted was on the him. Deciding you wanted to be sober for the remainder of the time Dean was in town, you opted for a beer and lemonade, while he ordered a whiskey for himself. The two of you took up a corner booth and he sat across from you, shrugging off his jacket. He was gorgeous, aging well. He talked about hunting through the country, listed a bunch of places he had been and how they now had an angel friend. It was wildly ridiculous, but it sounded like an oddly nice life – a life you might be missing out. Then he talked about getting hurt on the last hunt and you remembered the times your dad came back with looking worse for the wear. You would watch from the kitchen doorway as he fixed himself up, because he never wanted to wake your mother with worry. He knew you were watching and eventually would call your name, telling you to take a seat. Asking him what happened, he’d recount the hunt and how lucky he was to be home. Hunters weren’t always so lucky, he made sure to make that a point until you asked if John Winchester had helped him. He really knew you were asking about Dean, and he would just laugh – even then, by the age of 12, you had the oldest Winchester boy on your mind.

“So, what’s with the boyfriend of yours? I could take him, you know.” Dean was teasing, he always teased about the boyfriend, never understood how you could fall for such a douche – his words, affectionately.

“Nothing’s up, it’s just.”

“Hmm, well, what does your old man have to say about it?”

Your dad had a lot to say, more so than anyone in your life – mom had been gone a few years now and it was just the two of you during the holidays. He hated the boyfriend but respected your decision as an adult – although sometimes you wished he’d demand you to break it off, move back home with him.

“I don’t want to spend the little time I have with you talking about my crumbling relationship.”

Dean nodded and leaned back into the booth, asking if you wanted to go see Sam. “He wants to see you.” You suggested the three of you go out to dinner tomorrow before they leave town, a real nice place; your treat. He grinned and agreed, reaching his hand across the sticky table to yours. His fingertips touched the edge of your knuckles and it made you sad, the feeling it aroused in the pit of your stomach. Dean’s single touch had more impacted than all the touches you had received in that lonely apartment – all the years’ worth of stiffened hugs and chastised kisses. You smiled at Dean and he smiled back, squeezing his palm over your hand before pulling away and thanking the waitress for the round of beers she brought over.

“You know Baby has room for three, we could use a hand – we have a permanent place now.”

We have a permanent place now – that had to be the most important sentence ever said in the existence of the universe, it felt that way, anyhow. It bounced in the air; you could see it – like a large neon sign over a coffee shop. Open for business; we have a permanent place now. It made you feel jealous and excited at the same time, and the way Dean grinned suggestively, it made it seem like he knew you were itching to get out of the life you had made. A life you had carefully rolled out of clay, hoping it will stay up until you realized it had tired and was slowly crumbling into its first form.

You stayed quiet but Dean went on to describe the bunker. “It’s safe as hell, got plenty of rooms. Hell, you don’t even have to go on hunts. You can just keep the fort down for us, be our person on the other line – what Bobby did.”

“I miss him,” you said, and his face dropped. The two of you picked up a glass and held it up for the fallen hunter, before swishing down the beer and laughing when it came spilling out of the corners of your mouth. “Shit, you make it sound so easy, Dean. Just pick up and leave, like I don’t have any responsibilities to leave behind.”

Dean’s eyes softened, as they always did when he talked to you. “Hunters don’t have the same rules as everyone else, you’ve always been a hunter – you’ve just been on the bench for way too long.  Sammy could use a research partner too.”

He threw his brother in to make the deal sound sweeter; he knew how much you enjoyed spending time with Sam, researching through old books and the internet. It almost seemed perfect, the great escape you had been longing for, but something inside you was petrified. Too many years had passed, you got too comfortable in the place you had now – had normal responsibilities to think of and mostly, you were afraid of being around Dean, because deep down, the torch you held for him had only grew larger throughout the years. It was painful to think he had not thought of you in the same light and although he was extending a hand to get you out, it didn’t particularly feel romantic. It felt exactly like what Dean Winchester would do for a friend, for family.

“So, what’s up with your angel friend, he cute?”

Dean rolled his eyes, obvious of the deflection. He let it pass and he asked if you wanted to meet him. “One call and he’d be here.”

“I can barely handle two Winchesters in my town, I don’t think I’m ready to meet an actual angel tonight.”

“Next time then, I know Cas would love to meet you. Sammy talks about you all the time.” It was the way he said all the time that clued you into the fact that it wasn’t Sam doing all the talking; it made you smile down at your fingers. They were holding tight to the beer sitting in front of you and for a moment, the whole bar went quiet. Everything stilled in a peaceful silence, time seemed to slow down as you finally looked up at the man sitting across from you. His jawline was shaper than it had been nearly fifteen years ago – when he was scrummaging the line between boy and man. In general, he looked more refined and it was a good look on him.

“Why are you so quiet? I thought you’d be happy to see us?”

He said us but meant him.

“I am, believe me,” you assured him, pushing away the beer. Your stomach could not handle any more drinking, and neither could your heart, because you were one drink away from doing something stupid and reckless. “I just have a lot on my mind, and I don’t think I should drink anymore.”

Dean listened and stared, watching each word fall from your lips. Then he said okay and got up, leaving his beer half full. Your eyes followed him back to the bar, where he pulled out his wallet. He took a few bills out and settled the bar tab, shaking the bartender’s hand before making his way back to you. He asked if you had brought a jacket and you said no, and he asked if you wanted his. You said no again, because you did not want his smell to linger on you after he left – it would hurt too much. A reminder of what you could have had if you were brave enough.

“Suit yourself, come on. Let’s get some food in you, any good burger places around here?”

…

There was this burger stand near the bar, it stayed open late because of the bar hoppers. The food was not particularly anything to write home about, but they did the job when one was sozzled. You weren’t exactly drunk, but a heavy buzz rang over your skin as Dean walked back to Baby with food. He was smiling and each step he took closer to the classic car, your heart and nether regions took a hit. Then he got in and handed over the food, teasing that you better not get Baby dirty. Ignoring him, you started devouring the burger and fries, thanking him when he handed over a water bottle. He watched for a moment, delight in his eyes, as you ate before digging into his own food. For a few minutes, the only sound in the car was Led Zeppelin in the background and the ruffling of the white paper bags the food came in. You ate and stared out the window, watching a couple eating a few cars down. He was cleaning something off her chin, and she was eyeing him like he was the entire world; it made you feel jealous, a bit bitter inside.

“Stop staring at people,” Dean murmured, shoving a fry in his mouth. He had this annoyed look on his face, but you knew that was just him messing around. You apologized and said you forgot how much attention he needed. He smirked and nodded. “I never get attention; all the girls love Sammy and his damn hair.”

That was a lie – a bold face one. Women loved Dean, beyond the obvious good looks.

“I’m sure you’ve had your share of women,” you said, looking back at the window. The couple had pulled out and the spot was empty now. You felt sad that they were gone and wondered if they were going home together or maybe they weren’t together, maybe they each had someone had home. Maybe they were secretly meeting and living out a side storyline – lovers that couldn’t be together.

“Nah, been too busy. Besides, somethings just don’t compare.”

You barely registered what he had said, because a new car had pulled in two spots down and you recognized it with a sharp pain in your chest. It was his car; he loved this shitty burger stand. Slouching a bit, you watched out of the corner of your eye – seeing if he was with someone and God, hoping he was. He wasn’t, that would be too exciting for his life. He was alone and you watched as he got out of the car to order at the counter. Dean was talking in the background, something about you going with him, but nothing was hitting the brain. You focused on him and what he was doing, how different he looked without you at his side. He ordered and waited patiently on the side, because again, he wasn’t a particularly terrible person.

“Earth to dork, you listening or what?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, averting your eyes back to Dean. “I’m not feeling so hot, can we get out of here?”

“Sure thing, want me to take you back to the apartment?”

God, no. Sure, he wasn’t home, but just the thought of stepping foot in the place – tarnishing the very night you were having with Dean, to end it – not, you did not want that. “No, let’s go see Sam. I think we should go see him.”

Dean said nothing, but quickly finished off his burger and took a long sip of his coke before asking if you were ready. By the time he was done eating, you had put the rest of the food back in the takeout bag and said yeah, you were ready. The car revved up and you were suddenly aware of someone staring at you, and that was when you locked eyes with the man you had spent years with. He was leaned against the counter, waiting for his food. For a moment, you thought he was staring at you but the fleeting tightness in your chest disappearing when you noticed him admiring Dean’s car. Yes, the man was so blind to you and your existence, he had not noticed you watching from the passenger seat. It was so hilariously sad, you laughed. Full blown laughed as Dean pulled out, asking what was so funny. Relaxing once again, you smiled and turned your head to him.

“Life is.”

…

The motel was a dime a dozen, nothing special. Neon light announcing vacancy and an ice machine near the main check in lobby, several cars parked in the lot. Sam had opened the door with a warm smile and even warmer hug, his height pillaring over you as he pulled you into the room. Dean followed and closed the door, walking over to the small green table near the only window. He placed the left overtake out and shrugs off his jacket, tossing it on one of the two chairs that accompanied the table. Sam lead you to one of the beds and the two of you sat on the edge, catching up just as Dean and you did. It felt good to be near both the Winchesters, and admittedly, felt safe.

“Dean couldn’t pass up a chance at seeing you,” Sam said, eyeing his brother who huffed as he made his way to the bathroom. He waited until the door closed before smiling at you. “We both wanted to see you, how have you been?”

“Good,” you lied.

“Let’s try again,” he laughed.

“I’m getting by, Sam. Just…going through the motions of life.”

His eyes fell on yours and he asked if everything was okay. “You know you’re always welcomed to come with us, that’s all Dean talked about on the way here. He thinks…”

Sam’s sentenced trailed off and you stared as his mouth closed. It seemed he had placed his large foot in his mouth and you had not missed that fact; asking him what Dean thought. His eyes moved to the door of the motel bathroom and he sighed, explaining that their trip here was no unplanned.

“Dean’s been wanting to come check up on you, didn’t like the last phone call you two had. He thought something was up with the boyfriend and he…he planned on convincing you to move to the bunker with us.”

The information settled in just as Dean walked out of the bathroom, drying his hands with a small washcloth. When he was done with it, he threw it on the bed and asked what was up. Sam said he was going to head out to catch a bite to eat. Dean mentioned there were leftovers, but his face pulled up in disgust.

“I’ll go find something a little healthier, a lot less bacon grease. I saw a diner down the block, I’ll walk.”

Dean scoffed. “You ain’t right, man. Who doesn’t like bacon?”

‘It’s the American way,” you joined in.

Sam rolled his eyes, putting on his jacket. “I don’t partake in peer pressure, I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

You laughed and waved bye when he walked out of the room, leaving Dean and you alone. The room grew quiet then and all that could be heard was the sound of Dean’s boot moving across the dingy beige carpet. Eyes glued to the floor; you couldn’t look up as he claimed his brother’s spot on the bed. Unlike Sam, who kept a respectful distance Dean seemed to engulf the little space left between your bodies. His knees brushed hard against yours and his arm nearly hung over your right arm; the situation was stressing you out because suddenly you felt guilty. Guilty that you were in a motel with a man who was not the one you were currently in a committed relationship with; that alone had you rushing off the bed and walking toward the door until Dean jumped up and chased after you.

His hands flung to your shoulder and when he turned you around, your heart was beating so fast and hard, you were scared you were going to have a heart attack; his mossy eyes stared into yours and he asked you to stay.

“Please.”

Oh, that please; it was more than you could handle. It was so quiet and desperate, before you could say a word, your mouth was on his. It was only the second time in your life that you kissed Dean and it felt just as it did the first go around. Sweet, yet longing, his hands went up to your face and he held you gently. You groaned against his body, hands on his hips as you guided him back toward the bed. It felt suddenly when he broke the kiss, your eyes still closed until he whispered your name. Fluttering open, Dean’s face unblurred and a smile appeared, his hands now on your shoulders. His fingers were warm, even over your clothes and he asked if you were sure.

“Sure?”

He sighed. “I have ears, I know Sam told you my plan. Jeez, never could keep a damn secret, huh? Doesn’t matter. I want you to come live with us. Like I said, the bunker is safe, and you don’t have to hunt, can just hold down the fort when we’re gone. I know things aren’t right here for you, and it might be a lot to ask, picking up and starting over, but we want you to come with us.” He paused.  “I – I want you to come be with me…”

His words hit harder when they came from him and suddenly, all the doors flew open – the windows too. Fresh air flowed up the back of your shirt and tickled the nape of your neck, even your toes curled at the opportunity – lifeline, Dean was giving you.

“With you?”

You had to know, wanted to hear the exact words from his mouth before anything could go further – this way it would make things easier. There was no way you were going to leave with the Winchesters without knowing where the two of you stood, if you were going to start fresh, you had to know.

Dean’s smile faded as he stepped closer to you, his hands moved from your waist to catch your hands at your side. He seemed nervous and that made you smile, and when he cleared his throat, your heart raced. This was it; he was the key and while you never wanted to rely on a single person for your happiness, you knew you deserved to be cherished. Deserved to have someone look at you from across the room and see their face light up when you smiled at them. Someone who held you before bed, took up most of the room and occasionally made breakfast in bed. A person who knew how to dot on their partner, who delighted in seeing them walk through the front door and ask them about their day – someone who wanted to touch you in every way. That’s what you deserved, you knew that much, and more than that, you knew you wanted Dean to be that person.

“Yeah, you, who else?” He laughed as if it was all so obvious and you reached up to smack his chest, but he caught your hand and gave it a soft kiss. “Come on, it’s always been you – you’re my girl.”

That was it, all that needed to be said – no worry about the apartment and figuring out the logistics of moving out or the bane of shared accounts and bills. Those minor inconveniences where just that – nothing to pain over and not worth staying behind for. He kissed you then, this time more eager and rougher, the tips of his thumbs spread across your cheeks and he murmured that he wanted you now, and that he couldn’t wait. You asked about Sam and he joked about putting a sock on the doorknob.

“No, it will be fine,” he whispered, pulling up your shirt over your head. “He knew as soon you came, that I would convince you to stay. He’ll be out for a while, we have time. Besides, you’re going to be living with us now, he’ll have to get used to the noise.”

You chuckled, eyes rolling he kissed you more. Hands rose to your chest and he touched the top of your chest, tongue moving against yours. The firmness in his jeans pressed against you and that’s when neither of you could take it. It took a few awkward maneuvers before the two of you were in bed – you on your back and Dean over you, nothing but a sheet covering your bodies. The awareness of your body naked against his heightened the excitement in your chest, his eyes roamed you up and down until landing back to your face. His eyes seemed to be glistening in adoration, and for the first time in such a long time, you felt seen, and when he pushed into you – you felt loved.

[tillmays]

It was a pleasure to call you my friend.

Riley found Chris. They are at his place.

Chris- welcome. *he opened the door for her his friends were already there * Riley- wow this is really nice. Chris- thanks, don't you think is too much. *the house was bigger then the house of Mr. Spielberg.* Riley- hey if you like it you like it. Mac, Desi and Bozer followed Riley they got in. they were alert if something happened. *Matty calls again.* Matty- oh I'm sorry to bother you, were you busy? *saying sarcastically pissed.* Desi- sorry, but we needed to get to this new place and- Matty- I'm sorry what did I miss? Where are you? Desi- Riley got some information, and now we are here in.. Some house. Matty sorry I will call you back later. Mac- what she said? Desi- the usual, she wanted to know why we don't follow instructions. Mac smiled at her, she kept looking forward like ignoring him, but looking at him slyly. Everyone were around ready to see the microfilms someone knocked the door. Riley- can you show me the bathroom? Chris- sure let me take you. Bozer- Riley is moving I g- Mac- I go! Bozer- well ok... *Bozer looked at Mac while he walked in front of him* Desi- hey someone's at the door. Focus everyone. *she was on the living room with other girls and was the only one closer to the door* Chris guided Riley to the bathroom. Chris- here you go, you know I'm excited that you decided to come, after whatever that was on the party ahha Riley- yeah me too, that was scary. *Mac heard them talking while he was walking up the stairs* Chris- I'm glad you're here. Riley saw Mac. "What is this boy doing" she though. Uh well just let me go you know, I'm not going nowhere. Chris- oh shoot your right. Sorry. Riley- don't worry I will be with you in a sec. your friends are nice by the way. Chris- I hope they aren't to nice, I don't want no one stealing you from me. I will be outside alright. Riley- ok.

He left, she got in the bathroom to watch the cameras of the house "thank God, some alone time" she said and started working. Mac knocked the door. “Damn this man can't wait.” Riley-Chris give me a minute ok. Mac- Its Mac. Riley- oh *she opened the door and let him in* Mac- what you got? Riley- nothing good. I used the facial recognition and Matty was right, this man is nothing but bad news. We need to get that thing back. Desi was sitting in the sofa when they opened the door, this tall, 40 ish man walked in. Riley already knew who he was with the facial recognition. He walked in and saluted all the girls he kissed Desis hand " oh a gentleman" she said while looking him in the eyes. "Some of us are. It was a pleasure meeting you. That's why I'm so sorry of what I'm about to do" he said while his subordinates were walking towards them. " What you mean" they grabbed Desi at off guard. " Hello everyone, I'm sorry to interrupt your night" he kept walking were the people was. Chris looked at him "uh I'm sorry who are you". He looked confused he didn't know who this mysterious man was. "Don't worry, that's not important. What you need to know is that someone in here has something that is mine, and I want it back". The mans putted the guns out. Bozer- guys.. Whatever you're doing move now. They got Desi. *they grabbed her by the neck with a gun pointing to her head.* Mac- what!? *they looked at the cameras. The bad guys started moving everyone to the other room. But the man who was going to trade the microfilm ran to the other direction. Everyone started screaming the bad guys started shooting, some of them got hurt. Mac looked in the mirror he had an idea, but it was very dangerous.

Mac- I got an idea. Riley- let me guess, I'm not gonna like it. Mac- I need you to cover my back. Riley- how you ask that. don't we all do that all the time. Mac- please be careful. I don't want mistakes, or worse if I commit one and someone gets hurt i- I don't want this to be the last day of someone or for us. Riley- hey, why do you say that? no one is going to die. You are not gonna die. I will protect you. You know why? Because this is my link. * Riley had a plan too she managed to get in the system of the bad guys phone and get their address but Mac didn't get what she was saying.* Mac- your link? Riley- Yes it is.  Mac-does it link you to my father? Riley- To all. Wait. what are you talking about? Mac- I saw you talking outside the war room before I walked in, what is happening between you two?

Flashback to this morning.

Before the team arrived to the phoenix when Matty called them, Riley and Macs dad where talking. Mac saw them talking together, and he couldn't help to think what was going on. they were talking by the stairs in front of the war room.

“People won't behave, if they have nothing to lose.”

Back in the bathroom.

Nothing, we were ... he was telling me about my mission, ok I'm not hiding anything. *she looked at him straight in the eyes* Some things in the case changed, nothing important. Mac we'll talk later I promise. But now I need you to be Macgyver ok. I'll be outside, don't worry. I will do my part and you do you. Mac- mj. You are very brave Riley Davis. Riley- is not that. Is that I have nothing to lose.

Mac- what you mean you have nothing to lose? Riley didn't let him finish talking when she pushed him out of the bathroom and closed the door. ” it's time, Goodbye Macgyver” she said thru the door. Mac was confused, he didn't know what was going on. but he needed to concentrate. He placed little bombs of smoke that he made with some part of the cars that were outside. He put some by the stairs, Bozer saw him and made a distraction. Mac threw two at him. And placed one on the chandelier that was very low to the level of the top floor of the stairs. To his luck Chris had a great taste in furniture. Unfortunately that was about to be destroyed. Riley- Boz stay ready ok. Bozer- good, but for what? *At that moment a little explosion happened by the kitchen* Desi- I wonder who could that be? *she looked at Bozer saying sarcastically and giving a little smile* Mac running to the other room* - Riles is your turn now. Riley was taking deep breaths. Like if was the first time doing something like this “come on breath, relax, you can do it.” she said to herself to keep her mind calm. She was on her phone managing everything. She was controlling the security system of the house. Couldn't bring her laptop to this mission since it was a pick up and leave mission. But as always things don't always go as planned. She looked in the mirror for a moment her mind was blank but still didn't like what she saw. Took the last breath, took the gun she was hiding under the dress on her tight while opening the door she said. “It's showtime”. Walked outside, went down the stairs, pointing directly to the chandelier. Meanwhile, the man was yelling at everyone about his lost “package”. Mac wasn't sure about it but it was the best he could think of, he was hesitating but then Riley shot the first smoke bomb. Bozer threw them to the ground making explode the two bombs that mac had thrown at him. At the same time that Riley shot the other bombs creating a great mist, it seemed that they were inside a cloud. Everyone in there screamed. Bozer helped them escape, Desi knocked down the men who were holding her. Riley was following Mac instructions she walked into the smoke. No one could see a thing. The microfilm was behind the projector she took it out of there. She already had it in her hands when the men started shooting blindly trying to immobilize her. Mac ran into the crossfire. He started shouting Riley's name, but he couldn't find her. He couldn't see anything the lights had been destroyed by the bullets. They were in the dark. Mac saw Riley trying to get up, lifted her off the ground, and they walked to the other end of the house to escape the shots.

                           ........................................

Desi pinned down as many men as she could while Mac and Riley were in the crossfire. She took a gun from the bad guys. On her way to our villain, stood behind him pointing the gun at his head she said “how you like it now”. He replied “you got me, you know, ladies shouldn't use weapons” Desi hit him on the head with the gun “guess I'm not a lady then”.

                          ...........................................

Mac placed Riley on the floor he was sitting on the floor trying to get back his breath. He saw she didn't have a sign that she was breathing and saw she was bleeding. A bullet went thru her stomach and the other one in her arm. Mac got shot in the arm as well.

Mac- Riles... Riles! Are you ok? Do you hear me?! *Riley started to wake up. Mac got closer to her. His eyes got teary.

Mac- Please Riley, never say... never say again in my presence, that you have no more in life, that you have nothing to lose. Of course, you have it, don't do sad things like say goodbye while you walk away. Never say goodbye again when you go on a mission. It's sad. *Riley was looking at him, Mac broke into tears he just let it out he didn't know why. He couldn't control himself he just let his emotions be. Riley leaned as she could on her good arm.* “why are you crying?” Mac kept crying with his head down. “I'm sorry, Mac I don't know what to do in situations like this, I'm sorry” she said while keeping her head down. Mac regain his posture and looked at her smiled with his sad eyes “you can start with a smile” Riley raised her head. Her eyes met his and their gazes connected in a very personal way. When Riley saw Mac's watery eyes, at one point she was scared. because he reminded her of someone, She saw herself in his eyes. And just like in the mirror felt the same feeling but this time was fading away, she felt something new. But put her guard down she breathed and smiled at him. that innocent smile of hers reminded him that ... that smile was the kind of smile you get to see a couple of times in a lifetime. Mac had something pure. she knew that. “come on, we gotta go.” she told him. Mac helped her to get up on her fit. Standing there next to each other they knew that they were important to one another. Mac held out his hand. Their hands were bloody. They held hands, making their blood as one. Mac saw her eyes. 

Mac- When will you come back?

Riley- Till May.

Riley- goodbye, Mac.

Mac- its not goodbye ok? we will se later.

Riley-  ok, later.

Mac squeezed her hand feeling that she was no longer there. - hurry up then. 

they walked to the big room the Phoenix team was already there. Mac and Riley walked to different direction. Desi went with Mac she was worried because he was hurt. “if Jack knew that you got shot because i wasn't watching your back, he will kill me” she said while looking at the injury. “ don't worry i can take care of myself besides someone's watching over me. always”. Bozer was talking with some people until she saw Riley was bleeding and was in the ambulance “ dude are you ok?” he was worried “ don't worry Boz i will be fine, when they get out this bullet that in my arm i will be fine” Riley saw that Chris was walking into her direction. Bozer understood “ i'm gonna check out Mac” 

Chris- so this is the “Production” you work for. 

Riley- yeah, mine likes to make it real- ough watch out. she said to the paramedic cleaning her injury. 

Chris- can you give us a moment please. *the man left them alone.* so when your done here you better come with me to continue what we left inside but it will have to be somewhere else since you destroyed my house.

Riley- hey i didn't did that alone, the bad guys helped me too. *they laughed*

Chris- so what you said. are you down.

Riley- i really like your offer but-

Chris- but what come on you're going to enjoy it. 

Riley- first of all i have two holes in my body right now and second of all i can’t. 

Chris-  i understand.

Riley- i have to go somewhere else. But i really wish i could.

Chris- that's to bad.. Cause I was gonna give you another chance to read my mind. * he kissed her hand and got closer to her and gave her a kiss on the chick. Mac Bozer and Desi saw them “uuu she got him” Bozer said laughing Mac just raised his brows. “nuh uh he's leaving” Desi said. “Can you two stop that, leave them alone” Mac told them while the paramedic finished putting the bandage on his injury. “relax we are just joking” 

Matty called Bozer. 

Bozer- what up Matty. *he put the speaker on* Matty- uh they are going to take Riley to the hospital since her injuries are bigger Desi- but she's going to be ok right? Matty- yes. Don't worry. She will be back tomorrow ready to work. Mac- we got the microfilm its safe. Matty- I'm glad of hearing that. At least that didn't get hurt. And guess what? Thanks to Riley link we could trace the whole operations of the guy and his facing a long life in prison. Bozer- hell yeah that our girl. Mac- so that was she was referring to.. Desi- what? Mac- nothing. Just thinking out loud. 

Bozer- she's not coming back, is she?

Mac- with Riley.... you never know.

The ambulance left the scene. but what they didn't know was that she was not only going to the hospital. but after that she was going to leave for her new mission. That night was the last time they saw her, not knowing what was going to happen next to the team or to Riley. 

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

i hope you guys liked this one. i edited the pics. sorry it took so long. be ready for the next one where do you think Riley its going? did you catch that line? uh see what i did there? ok im out for now let me know what you think.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 69 - Denerim

Chapter Rating: Teen Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Fereldans, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

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Twenty-third day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Spring flowers bloomed along the western road to Denerim, but the column of riders and infantry that approached was no proud company in parade shine. They were bedraggled and muddy from weeks of fighting along the coast, tired from the day’s march, and while Rosslyn and Alistair straightened in their saddles as they waited at the gate to be let in, they had to roll their shoulders beneath their armour and hide yawns behind their hands. The decapitated heads of traitors watched them sightlessly from hooks set into the walls above them, many of them fresh enough to still be recognisable despite the depredations of the crows. Mother Berit wasn’t among the number, perhaps saved by her Chantry connections, but Bann Loren was, and next to him a younger man with blond hair and a crude green sunburst painted onto his forehead.

“That was Vaughan Kendells,” Rosslyn said, noticing the direction of Alistair’s gaze. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her, remembering what she had told him, and the lift of Tabris’ chin as she spoke of her escape from the city. “Me neither.”

Before she could do more than smile at the reply, the gate opened and an officer waved them through. The market-day traffic was thinner than it had been the last time Alistair had visited capital, and he saw more beggars on the streets, but those who stopped to watch them pass did so with open, curious gazes instead of the harried suspicion that had met them in Amaranthine. On impulse, he nudged his horse closer to Rosslyn and held out his hand. Gaze soft, she took it and linked their fingers together as she had in Uldred’s dream, only this time they bumped knees, and there was a smudge of dirt under her eye, and all of his bones ached from days on the road to tell him it was real. People cheered, and it made her blush.

Her smile still lingered when they reached the palace gates and dismounted to hand off care of the army to the officers, and their horses to the grooms that had appeared from a side arch as if by magic. In the momentary confusion, he stepped close to her so he could distract himself from their formal welcome by brushing away the smear on her cheek.

The last time he had been brought to the palace, as part of Teagan’s entourage, he had been all but smuggled in under a helmet to hide his resemblance to the various portraits of Theirin ancestors hung in almost every room; there hadn’t been two flanking rows of guards waiting at attention as they walked up the steps, nor an announcement by a herald. Rosslyn’s titles outnumbered his, and it gave them a moment to pause before they were ushered through.

“Relax,” she told him. “You’re not heading to an execution.”

He only pouted. “This is just as bad as Summerday.”

“Is it really?” she asked, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Well. Maybe some things are better.”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the wry look she tilted at him, but before he could say anything else, the doors to the great hall swung open to reveal not just Cailan and Anora sitting on their thrones on the dais, but also Rosslyn’s grandparents, straight-backed and magnificent in their finery.

“So here ye are,” the Storm Giant boomed. “At last! We were starting to worry ye’d upped and run off with her.”

Anora shot him a peeved glance. “Your Highness, my Lady Cousland, be welcome in our hall.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn replied as she sank into a graceful bow.

“I trust your journey was not too eventful?”

“Given your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a slew of rescued damsels left in your wake,” Cailan interrupted. He was frowning, and a bitter, sullen note coloured his voice. “Perhaps you stopped by Soldier’s Peak to rid it of all its ghosts?”

“Not quite,” Alistair supplied, with a careful glance to the woman beside him.

The king seemed to shake himself out of his bad humour. “A jest, of course. It’s good to see you both unharmed.”

Rosslyn adjusted her stance, folding her arms behind her back as if she were delivering a report from the field. “Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine proved difficult to convince of her allegiances, Your Majesty. We are sorry for the delay.”

“We are glad of your safe arrival, of course – especially given the happy tidings you bring with you,” Anora said easily, without looking at her husband. “My congratulations to you both.”

“Indeed.” Lady Lileas, who until that point had merely watched proceedings unfold before her like an augur scrying bones, swept forward and pulled her granddaughter into a hug. “It’s good to see you, mo chridhe. And as for you,” she added, turning to Alistair with a stare that made him shrink away like a mouse, “You bested An Sgòrnan Aigeinn. I am satisfied.”

“Uh…”

“Can we be away now?” the Storm Giant interrupted with impatience. “My oald joints are starting to creak like a mizzen in a hoolie.”

“You’re not staying in the palace?” Alistair asked.

Lady Lileas smiled. “My grandson has kindly granted us use of his estate while we see to the preparations for your wedding, and we are still Rosslyn’s guardians.” Her expression darkened. “That swine left it in a terrible state. His death was well deserved. Come, granddaughter, you must wish to change out of armour, and there is much to discuss.”

A frown creased Rosslyn’s forehead. “It’s almost dark already and we’ve been travelling since dawn. I’m sure Their Majesties would not begrudge their hospitality – any discussion can wait until tomorrow.”

“You are not staying here,” her grandmother replied, as if the suggestion were absurd.

“I’m Commander-in-Chief of the army,” she pointed out. “I’m needed to plan the spring advance – the war isn’t over yet.”

“You are also not married yet.”

“This is because…?” Her eyes flew wide. “What do you think will happen? It’s not like we haven’t –” Faltering, her gaze flashed to Alistair and skittered away again as crimson bloomed across her cheeks. “We’ve been together on the road for weeks, what difference does it make now?”

“This is how things are done in the joining of two houses.” Lady Lileas drew herself up. “You know this.”

Behind his wife, the Storm Giant cleared his throat and said something in Clayne that Alistair failed to catch, but instead of lifting Rosslyn’s expression it only served to set her mouth in a line of petulant defeat. It was adorable.

“My things will need to be forwarded,” she said. “And I’ll require a schedule for meetings with the army’s officers and outfitters.”

“It will be done,” Cailan told her, having watched the whole exchange from behind steepled fingers. “And the sooner you get married, the sooner we can move your things back, eh?”

With nothing left to say, and a last helpless glance back at Alistair, Rosslyn was chivvied from the hall less like a war hero and more like a child caught shirking lessons, taking their plans for a quiet, shared evening with her and leaving him to wonder at just how quickly their fortunes had been turned around. Anora and Cailan’s gazes itched on the back of his neck, and he only barely remembered to turn to ask their leave before running after her. The clanking of his armour echoed ahead of him, and he found them already waiting just inside the entrance hall at the top of the steps. The looks being levelled at him were not favourable.

“Uh – can I have a moment to speak to my betrothed?” The word still sparked on his tongue. He doubted he would get used to it before he was calling her his wife instead, but thinking about that too closely made him dizzy. “In private?” he added, as he slipped his hand into Rosslyn’s.

The Storm Giant nudged his wife with his elbow. “Ach, go on.”

The clan leader of the Mac Eanraig pursed her lips at him, but it didn’t quite hide the twitch of her amusement. “We will wait in the carriage.”

He didn’t dare breathe until Rosslyn’s grandparents had reached the bottom of the steps, and then, spying an unobtrusive side door leading off the hall, he tugged on their joined fingers and pulled her after him with only the thinnest veneer of patience. The door swung open easily onto a small room lit by a single arrow slit, and the latch clicked back into place behind them an instant before he dropped her hand so he could take her face instead. She giggled as her forehead pressed against his.

“What is this place?”

“A storeroom – something – I don’t care,” he answered. “How long do you think it will be before they come looking for us?”

Gently, she shook her head and nudged a kiss against his lips. “Nowhere near long enough for all these layers of armour, my love.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he purred.

“I’m sure.”

One gloved finger traced the line of her jaw. “I told you we should have stayed in bed this morning.”

“Soon, we’ll be able to stay in bed every morning,” she reminded him.

“In our bed.” His breath stuttered.

“No sneaking away back to separate rooms.”

“Then…” He steadied himself and found her hand again. “This is just another reason why Guardian can’t come fast enough. How am I going to last without you for so long?”

She laughed, lightly pushing him away so she could get to the door again. “I’m not disappearing off the face of Thedas, and it’s only a few weeks. We’ll see each other every day – we’ve been through worse.”

“I’ll dream of you,” he promised.

“My grandmother would be scandalised.” She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth as she turned to leave. “Everything will be fine.”

--

It was not fine.

Aside from the wedding plans – fabrics and food and guest invitations and the small feud that erupted between Anora and Rosslyn’s grandmother because of it – they were kept ridiculously busy organising for the march south, and assisting in the city’s rebuilding efforts. They saw each other only in snatches for daily meetings, and barely exchanged two words that were not about policy or supplies. In addition to the schedule, Rosslyn had to drag herself across the city every morning to oversee the army’s drills, which meant most moments she had to herself during the day were spent trying to catch up on sleep.

To keep himself from missing her too much, Alistair took on oversight of the alienage. Nobody else seemed to care about the damage done to the elves, and while Cailan indulged him, or perhaps lacked interest, many of the other nobles already in attendance for Wintersend muttered that he was wasting both time and money on a worthless cause. They quieted after he pointed out that having to contend with an uprising would only add to the strain being faced by all of them, but having to appeal to their self-interest left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anora, at least, offered support for his efforts. As the time went by and Cailan’s preoccupation with finding Loghain took up more and more of his thoughts, the day-to-day politics of the palace fell to her. For this reason, relations with her continued to be fraught, especially in regards to military matters. She didn’t like people stepping on her toes. She didn’t stand for breaks with decorum, either, but she was fair and even-handed in her judgements, and for the sake of peace, Alistair tried his best to follow her lead and stay out of her way.

The only bright spots in all the blandness of days passing too slowly came in the notes he and Rosslyn managed to smuggle to each other during meetings and meals, the only times they got to touch, or even stand next to each other. She had passed the first to him in a chance encounter in one of the corridors, a brief press into his hand and she left with just the flash of her smirk tossed over her shoulder, and a glance down to where a neatly folded square of paper sat in his palm. Before anyone could call him away, he had slipped into a nearby empty room and pored over the lines, just a few sentences written in her elegant hand, but more than she had been able to say to him since they had arrived in Denerim.

I’ll not trust any messengers this time save our own hands, my love, and the time cannot come soon enough when I get to hold yours. When I get to be alone with you. When I can fall asleep beside you once more and never again worry about how long it will be until we must part. I love you.

He passed her his reply with the salt cellar at dinner.

I love you too. I wake up thinking of you. I miss curling around your body and waking you with kisses, even if your hair so often gets caught in the middle. I miss the sound of your voice and the brightness of your eyes. I’d write poetry about them, but you haven’t married me yet and I don’t want to risk it.

It became a game between them, this sly exchange of notes, each one a tiny rebellion at the strictures of propriety, a private conversation when no privacy was allowed.  

My hair would not get so wild if a certain someone didn’t take such delight in tangling it the night before. In case you start to worry, that was not a complaint. I miss your voice as well, and your hands, and what both can do to me, although one benefit of distance is that I get to admire my future husband from afar without him noticing. Your footwork showed great improvement when you were sparring today, though you still drop your elbow too far when you block.

~

You enjoy making me blush, don’t you? Perhaps I can return the favour, Wife-To-Be. There was a moment in the gardens yesterday where you were wandering among the shrubbery with no idea that I was stuck only a floor above you, listening to Brantis drone on about the advantages of a trade deal Cailan has already agreed to. My attention may have wandered, and my hand was nothing but a thrall to the vision before me. I’m sure you can guess the subject.

~

I will treasure this likeness, my love, if I am allowed to keep it? I ought to admonish you for not paying more attention to Brantis, given how hard he tries, but I find I do not have the heart. The expression you captured here, is this truly how I look? Rest assured that I am blushing profusely, though I made the mistake of opening your offering for the first time while in the same room as my brother. Fergus seems to have taken it upon himself to stuff a year’s worth of insufferable brotherly affection into a few short weeks, though in hindsight I should not have told him your note included a sketch. He also says if we want to keep these messages secret, you ought to do better containing your grin in the exchanges. I told him to boil his head.

~

I am glad you like the sketch. It’s yours. I might never do you justice, but maybe in the future we’re to have together, I might practice? You looked tired when I saw you today (yesterday, by the time you read this), and you cannot tell me Wintersend isn’t preying on your mind. I know you too well. I cannot tell you how to feel, but please remember that I love you. So much.

As the holiday approached, Rosslyn’s sombre mood grew more pronounced, and she withdrew into herself. In the palace, the time was marked for celebration, and the festival spirit was upheld by an army of harried servants made busy decorating and preparing guest rooms for the visiting nobles – but it had also been a year since the sack of Highever, since Fergus and Rosslyn had marched away to war and returned to find a ruin. Alistair did what he could to bolster her spirits, but short of slipping his night guard and breaking into the Cousland estate like a common thief, there was little remedy for the nightmares she refused to admit were plaguing her again.

On the morning of the feast he spent an extra hour in the lists, trying to beat out his nerves on practice dummies. The usual meetings had been put on hold for the day, which meant he wouldn’t see her until she arrived with the rest of the guests just before sundown. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, the only one before the wedding, and that meant extra fuss in his attire lest the assembled nobility find him lacking either as a prince or as a prospective husband. Besides, he wanted his betrothed to be impressed.

While he bathed, Marten lay out the same rust-red doublet he had worn for Summerday, with the addition of the mantle made for the voyage to the Storm Islands, and the bracers Rosslyn herself had given him to meet her grandfather. He traced his fingers over the embossed leather as his valet fussed with his collar, remembering. He had almost kissed her after she helped him put them on the first time. Looking back, at what came later, he was glad he hadn’t but he wondered if she knew. Even during the darkest part of his time in Orzammar, he had worn the gift, too stubborn and too hopeful to give them up, and now he couldn’t stop smiling, and the day when he would become her husband rose barely a week away on the horizon, a lighthouse guiding all his thoughts to safe harbour.

“You’re all set, Your Highness,” Marten pronounced, bushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulders.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Alistair fiddled with a sleeve.

“You know her better than me, milord,” the valet pointed out. “I wouldn’t dare presume her taste in outfits.”  

“Right.”

Marten licked his lips. “No one’s in doubt that she loves you, but if you stand up here all night worrying – well, that’ll hardly do you any good, now will it? I’ve done the best I can for you.”

“And you have my eternal gratitude for it,” he replied.

With one last glance in the long mirror, and a deep breath to steady himself, Alistair nodded and left the room. When he reached the door to the king’s chambers further along the corridor, it was a maid who answered his knock, and she told him both Cailan and Anora were still indisposed. Then she shut the door again with a decisive click, before he could say anything else. He shifted on the balls of his feet. The light outside the window was fading from the brightness of late afternoon, which meant a good number of the guests should have arrived. He didn’t want to lurk in the hallway, awkward and bumbling and gossip-fodder for any servants who happened to catch a glance of him in all his worried finery, but he also didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself in the hall – Isolde had always sneered that he got under people’s feet, and however much he tried to block it out, the contemptuous echo of her in his mind remained persistent.

But Rosslyn would arrive soon, if she wasn’t already waiting for him. He could make small talk pretending to oversee the final preparations for the feast until she arrived, and then, he reasoned to himself as he walked, he could talk to her. He could spend the whole night talking to her, and nobody would be able to stop him. Maybe he could sneak her away, to some shady corner where he could hold her hand, and run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her. His thoughts wandered far enough in imagining it that his foot slipped on the first step of the landing and he only saved himself from tumbling all the way to the bottom of the stairs by snatching his hand out for the banister.

“Ow,” he grumbled, massaging his shoulder. “I really hope nobody saw that.”

Allers, the royal guard stationed in an alcove a little way away, made no response to his suspicious glare.

“Alistair?”

His face heated. It was Rosslyn. She stood at the base of the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other lifting the hem of her gown to keep it out of the way of her feet, frozen in the act of rushing up to meet him.

“Huh?”

She was in deep blue damask, the folds of the sleeves and the low, broad dip of the neckline richly embroidered, the fabric outlining the curve of her waist. Her hair fell in a thick black curtain down her back, braided and pinned with the aurum laurel wreath she had worn in the Storm Islands – and around her neck, bare on her pale skin for all to see, his amulet hanging at the end of a delicate silverite chain.

“You fell,” she said.

“I –” He swallowed. “Only for you, dear lady.”

She rolled her eyes, but waited as he skipped down the stairs to meet her, and smiled when he caught her hand to press his lips to the knuckles. Close to, the elegance of her dress didn’t quite hide the slump of her shoulders, nor the brittle fatigue that tightened the corners of her mouth.

“You’re early,” he murmured, still holding her fingers.

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much left to do at the estate, and I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve wanted…”

Before he could finish the thought, she reached up and pressed a halting finger against his lips. “I had to drag Fergus with me.”

Fergus. Of course. He followed the tilt of Rosslyn’s head to where her brother stood not even that far away, with one eyebrow raised and his arms folded across his chest, the very picture of a concerned guardian who had just caught someone nefarious swooping down on his charge. Alistair, preoccupied with other things, had completely failed to notice him.

“Ah – um. Your Lordship! You’re looking well.”

“Your Highness,” Fergus answered mildly. “Please, do carry on with my sister. It’s not like our grandmother is in the next room, wondering where we’ve snuck off to.”

“You could go and stall her if you like,” Rosslyn suggested, and when her brother only returned her a flat look, she frowned. “Please, Ferg? I did it for you – for weeks.”

“Only because I bribed you,” he retorted, but his face softened. “Fine, I’m going. But don’t do anything too outrageous.”

“I think that means you’re not allowed to spirit me away to somewhere nobody can find us,” she huffed as he ducked through the door, already looping her arms around Alistair’s neck.

His hands found her waist. “Damn, that’s my plan foiled, then. Please tell me I can kiss you, at least?”

“You may,” she giggled.

“Good.”

His heart thundered more than it should for such a simple brush of lips, but before he could sink too far into the feeling, he pulled away so he could see her expression. Her eyes were still closed, her head turned into his palm like a flower angling its petals towards the sun.

“How are you?” he asked.

A sigh, and her eyes fluttered open to focus on his chin. “It… hasn’t been a good day. I’ve tried to keep myself busy, but it hasn’t really worked. It’s been a whole year, and yet all I’ve been able to think is that they should be here. That it’s –”

“Not your fault,” he interrupted firmly. “I wish I could have been with you – I mean, not that I don’t every day, but today especially, I wish I could’ve been there to make it easier.”

“I had your notes,” she reminded him with a weak smile. “That kept the worst of it at bay.”

He grinned. “Did it now? In that case, I’ll feel a little better giving you this.” With the flourish of a showman, he reached into the end of his sleeve and pulled out a folded square of paper. “For later,” he explained. “When you don’t have an audience. There’s words in it that I hope are reassuring, but also – since you liked the last sketch so much, I thought as a distraction…”

Their fingers brushed as she took the note from him. The blush rising in her cheeks chased away the wan tone of her skin, and for a moment Alistair allowed his mind to linger over all the other scandalous ways he might prompt such a reaction.

She smirked at him. “If it needs to be so private, I had best keep it safe.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she folded it once more and with nimble fingers slipped it down the front of her dress. Alistair stared. She smoothed her hands over the silk to make sure nothing poked out where it shouldn’t, unconcerned. It was a perfunctory gesture, businesslike, and yet far too thorough to be innocent.

“Are you alright?” she asked sweetly, once she was finally satisfied that everything lay in its proper place.

He managed a strangled sort of noise. “Nothing a long soak in Lake Calenhad wouldn’t cure.” When he caught her expression, falling from a smirk into true concern, he shook his head and pulled her closer, until they were standing hip to hip. “I’ll manage. And don’t think I won’t get you back for that little performance.”

“You started it.”

“You like tormenting me.”

She laughed at that, and darted a quick kiss against his mouth that he was too slow to return. “Shouldn’t you be going to greet your guests?” she asked. “Where is the king?”

“Applying the finishing touches, I think.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on Cailan or his moods, not with Rosslyn in his arms. “We should be safe from disgrace, in any case. One is only late if one arrives after royalty, after all.”

“You are royalty, my love,” she murmured, smiling wider as he waggled his eyebrows.

“And soon you will be, too.” The reminder stole his breath. “Uh… shall we?”

The eyes of every guest turned to look at them as he appeared in the doorway with Rosslyn on his arm, but for once, he didn’t mind the attention, or the wave of movement that swept through the room as people bowed to him in greeting. Her grandparents stood in one corner with Fergus, given their own deference as foreign dignitaries, and while the back of his neck heated under their knowing gaze, there were enough distractions elsewhere to keep him from too much embarrassment.

He even managed to avoid glancing lower than Rosslyn’s collarbones. Mostly.

“Aye, and don’t they make a handsome couple?” Bann Ferrenly preened once he caught them into his orbit. “I predicted this, you know. I said to my dear Raina, ‘We can’t have these two in such close quarters without them falling for each other. Mark my words,’ I said, ‘There’s much to admire in him, and he would be a fool not to see the quality of such a lady!’”

“Of course,” Bann Aldubard agreed stiffly. “Who could have predicted otherwise?”

At the other side of their circle, Arlessa Élodie of South Reach laid a delicate hand on Rosslyn’s arm. “I, for one, am glad that this war has not been all tragedy – we must move forward, must we not?”

When Cailan and Anora eventually joined the gathering, even Bann Ferrenly was almost out of anecdotes, so it was a relief to follow the line of torches the servants had lit in the darkened gardens, to where a troupe of mummers had set up a stage in front of an open-fronted pavilion furnished with a long table that was already groaning with food. As the nobility were directed to their seats, the troupe master welcomed them and announced a performance of Dane and the Werewolves. At first, Alistair kept his eye on his brother and the carafe of wine placed by his elbow, but though Cailan looked tired, he was dressed in fresh clothes and his hair had been brushed and braided, and he was minding Anora’s voice in his ear.

Rosslyn slipped her hand into his. In the distraction offered by the players she had nudged her chair close enough to his to press against him to the knee. They could do little more under so many watchful eyes, but with every moment counting time down to the wedding, still so many days away, it was enough.

“To us?” she suggested when the servers had filled their goblets and everyone else was preoccupied with the strut of the warpainted hero onto the stage.

He touched his cup to hers and leaned across with a kiss. “To spending our lives together,” he agreed.

--

It was only the following morning that he spotted the note she must have slipped inside his tunic. He picked it off the middle of his bedroom floor with his head still ringing from his hangover, his thoughts whirling about the one he had given her, whether she had opened it yet, what she thought of it, if the ink had smudged against her breasts after spending so many hours pressed to her skin. Perhaps going beyond words into illustrations was a step too far, and even now she was marching through Denerim’s streets to out him as a lecher and declare there wouldn’t be a marriage after all. If it were so, at least he’d have one last message from her to remember her by.

Today I cannot help but think about the past, but the weight sits less heavy on my shoulders knowing my future lies with you. We have fought through so much, together and apart, and it is strange to think how I ever managed without you. What if we had never met, or if our paths had crossed in some other way? Would I still miss waking up without you? Would you miss me?

His worry vanished. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the paper to his lips, wishing it could be her instead, that he could put his arms around her and drive out all her doubt.

He was at his desk and finishing his reply before he had even changed out of his smallclothes.

I would miss you. I do miss you. There is an empty space in the bed and the pillows don’t smell like you. You make me better, and make me want to be better. If someone could knock me out so I can wake up on the morning of our wedding without having to endure the torture of not being able to hold you, I would be very grateful.

~

My love, if you lie unconscious, who will distract me with such delightful correspondence? Who will smile at me as you do? And what if whoever it is hits you too hard on the head and kills you? No, it cannot be risked. You must continue to suffer, as I assure you I do as well, but only for a little while longer.

~

For you, perhaps I might make it three days, and believe me, I am counting every moment until you become my wife. I cannot wait to be your husband. I love you.

~

Two days, my love. I can barely eat for nerves.

~

I haven’t slept – can’t until I have you in my arms again. I’ll see you tomorrow.