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catierambles · 1 year

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Feral Instincts Ch.12

Pairing: The Rogue’s Gallery (Geralt, Syverson, Mike, August Walker, Walter Marshall) x Stephanie Daniels (OFC)

WC 2108

Warnings: Mentions of injury, abuse, and violence Minors DNI 18+ ONLY

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Mike was sitting on the couch, eating from a bag of frosted mini-wheats when there was a knock on the door. Dusting his hands off, he got up and went to it, opening it and seeing Sy on the doorstep. He had spoken to him last night after Geralt had gotten settled in the bedroom with Stephanie, letting him know the gist of what happened and that the white wolf was safe now.

"Hey." Mike said and Sy grunted at him, walking into the apartment as Mike moved aside.

"Where is he?" Sy asked.

"He and Steph are still asleep in the bedroom." Mike said.

"He say what happened?"

"Just that a hunt had gone wrong."

"Wounds musta taken a bit to go south, the check cleared this morning. He was able to turn it in before shit hit the fan." Sy said.

"Did he say who they were sending him after?"

"Just a feral few hours north of here that left some bodies. He was workin' with Staties on it." Sy said.

"You don't think it was Lewis, do you?" Mike asked.

"Honestly hadn't considered that. I told the Council about Lewis and what he had done to Steph, as well as the shit he pulled after, so they know about him and how dangerous he is." Sy said, "But if it was him, Geralt probably would have told us, unless he didn't know until he got up there."

"I didn't check. His bike out front?"

"Parked at an angle, but not in danger of gettin' hit."

"It was bad, Sy. I don't know if it was the lighting, but I could swear I saw bone." Mike said and Sy gave a sigh, running a hand over his shorn hair. "Steph did something, though. Last night. I felt her, and Geralt. I felt their wolves."

"She may have pulled at his wolf to help him heal." Sy guessed, but then shrugged. "Bedroom this way?" He pointed and Mike nodded. "Imma check on'em." He headed down the short hall, stopping at the closed door and easing it open. He immediately saw them on the bed, Geralt laying on his back, his side plastered with gauze that was tinged red in places. Stephanie was against his side, her legs tangled with his as she held his arm, cheek pressed to his shoulder. Going to her side of the bed, Sy brushed her hair away from her face gently and she woke with a deep inhale through her nose, her eyes opening and it took a second before they focused on him, a sleepy smile coming over her face.

"Hey, you." She said and the corner of his lips perked up.

"Hey, doll." Sy said, pitching his voice low, "How's he doin'?"

"Fever's gone." She said, looking at him, "Color's better. I'd say he's out of the woods." Propping herself up, she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and he made a small noise as he woke up, his hand coming up to weave into her hair as he pulled her into a kiss.

"Missed you." He said, his eyes still closed.

"I missed you too." She said, "Sy's here."

"Hey, man." Sy said and Geralt moved his head at him a little as Stephanie relaxed again on the bed.

"Hey."

"How's it feel?" Sy asked and Geralt shrugged.

"Better." He said and Stephanie slid off the bed, but not before tapping the tip of Geralt's nose with a fingertip, getting a cracked open side eye in response. She went around to the other side of the bed and he lifted his arm so she could carefully peel off the gauze. The wounds were gone, the skin pink and shiny where they had been, but that would eventually fade into scars adding to the ones he already had.

"There you go." She said, wiping away the remnants of the antibiotic ointment with a clean section of the gauze before bending and pressing her lips to his ribs. His hand went to her hair when he felt the touch of her lips, fingers moving through the strands.

"Missed you." He said again.

"Missed you too." She said and his eyes opened as he finally heaved himself up into a sitting position, swinging his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Geralt, Mike made a good point." Sy said, "Based on where you were sent, was it after Lewis?"

"No." He said, shaking his head, "Someone else. I've got feelers out with the other trackers, but no one's seen him."

"I don't like it." Stephanie said, "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's leaving me alone, but he was pretty fucking persistent before. Why give up all of a sudden?"

"I don't like it either, don't feel right." Sy said and Geralt just grunted in agreement.

"Whatever. Bad vibes aside, if he's staying away, he can continue to stay away." Stephanie said and went to Geralt, holding his face between her palms. His hands slid around her hips as he looked up at her, his eyes soft. "You, my good dude, need a shower." He snorted, his lips curling into a small smile. "So do I, come to think of it."

"Save water?" He asked and she grinned at him, pulling away as he stood from the bed.

"I'll be out in the living room." Sy said with a snort.

"Nuh uh, Mister." She said, and hooked her fingers in the neck of his t-shirt, pulling him into the attached bathroom with Geralt close behind, Sy's laughter following after them.

Much later, they were sitting in the living room as Stephanie made them food, Sy talking to Walter on the phone to update him on the situation. There was a heavy knock on the front door and she stepped away from the stove, going over and looking through the peephole, a small smile coming to her face at the familiar visitor. Throwing back the deadbolts, she opened the door and was immediately pulled into a kiss that made her toes curl, his mustache rasping over her upper lip.

"Walter told me Sy and Geralt were here." August said when he pulled away and she nodded, moving aside to let him in. The others called out their greetings and she went back to the stove, flipping the pancake before it got too done on one side. "Walt said you got injured, Geralt. You okay?"

"Steph took care of me." He said simply, sipping from his mug of coffee. There was another knock on the door, a more timid one this time and they looked at it.

"It's not Walter." Sy said.

"Mike, watch the food, please." Stephanie said and he jumped up from the couch.

"You got it." He said and they swapped places at the stove. Going to the door, she looked through the peephole again, seeing one of her neighbors, a young man with curly brown hair down to his collar. He looked nervous and her head tilted to the side slightly before she opened the door.

"Uh, hi." He said, giving her an anxious smile.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked and he rubbed at the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

"This is embarrassing." He said and she gave him a questioning look. "Fuck it. Can I join your pack?" Her brows jumped in surprise, "I felt you pull at someone's wolf last night, and I had no idea you were even a wolf, much less an Alpha."

"It's fairly recent." She said and his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh." He said, "I'm Hunter, by the way, probably should have led with that."

"Hunter, why don't you come in and we'll talk, okay?" She asked and he nodded, stepping into the apartment as she stepped aside. He stopped as the guys all looked at him.

"I didn't know--I thought you were the only Alpha." Hunter said.

"They're--it's complicated." Stephanie said, "I live here with my Beta, Mike--"

"Hi, there!" Mike called from the kitchen.

"He and the others took care of me when I got infected."

"Oh." Hunter said again.

"Easy, son." Sy said, having gotten off the phone with Walter. "We ain't gonna hurt ya."

"Now, how about we start from the beginning." Stephanie said, "Geralt, make room for him, please." He got up from his seat, gesturing slightly and Hunter thanked him as he sat down, twisting his fingers together nervously. "Hunter, look at me." He did immediately and Stephanie went to him, holding his face in her hands. "You're safe here, no one is going to hurt you."

"Thank you." He sighed, closing his eyes. "The pack I'm in now, the Alpha…he's a bully. He picks on the Betas and mistreats the Omegas."

"How?" Geralt asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"He pushes us around, we have to give him all our wages so he controls all the money. I've seen him lay hands on Omegas, hurt them." Hunter said and they weren't sure who gave the low growl, but one was definitely let out.

"Have you told the Council?" August asked and Hunter nodded.

"I made an anonymous complaint, but when they sent someone to investigate, everyone was too scared to say anything." He said and August sniffed. "He knew it was me, I don't know how, and he ripped my wolf out of me."

"But I--"

"Doll, you pullin' at our wolves is a gentle thing." Sy said, "You do it with care, but it can be done with violence and it hurts. A lot."

"I felt you." Hunter said, looking up at her again. "When you pulled at someone's wolf last night. I felt it. I could tell it was you because of how it felt, it felt like…warmth, and love, and…and…"

"Pack." Geralt said and he nodded. "I was injured, she pulled at my wolf to heal me."

"Kinda wonderin' how far out it was felt." Sy said.

"I live right next door." Hunter said, looking at him, "I think we share a wall."

"So not that far." Sy said.

"I want--I can't--" He said and she held his face again, making him look up at her with pleading eyes. "Please."

"Easiest thing to do would be to take over his." August said, "If this Alpha is that much of a bastard, he doesn't deserve his own pack. This building his territory?"

"And the one next door." Hunter said, "He owns them."

"Geralt?" Stephanie asked.

"I'll talk to my contact on the Council." He said, "Let them know what's going on so they don't think we're poaching."

"Sy?"

"It's your show, doll. He came to you." Sy said and she nodded.

"Hunter, it's going to be okay, okay?" She said and he nodded. "I'll take care of you."

"Thank you." He said, moving his face into her hands.

"Geralt, can you come with me please when I confront him?" She asked, "I want backup and you're the most intimidating looking in the room."

"Yes." Geralt said and her hands dropped as she stretched her neck. "If it gets dirty, I'll step in."

"Good thing I took kickboxing and Brazilian Jujitsu a few years back." She said.

"Really?" Sy asked and she nodded.

"You try being the smallest in your family of mostly guys, see how short of a time it takes before you get picked on. One good head lock and the teasing stopped." She said and he snorted. "Sy, August, stay with Hunter. Mike, don't let the food burn and make extras for our guest."

"You don't have to--" He started but she gave him a look, "Thank you." He said, giving her an appreciative smile.

"First apartment left of the entrance, right? It's where I go to hand in my rent checks." She said and he nodded. "Okay, let's get this over with." She and Geralt left, heading down the stairs and passing a few units before she stopped at a door just past the entrance to the building. Raising a hand, she knocked on it and backed away a bit before the door opened. He was a large man, with more of a strength build than that of a competition body builder, long hair tied back and a bushy beard on his face. He gave them both looks, his shoulders tightening somewhat as his eyes settled on Geralt just behind her shoulder. Wrong person to focus on. "Hi." The kick to the chest she gave him sent him careening back into the apartment and she walked in after him, Geralt smiling slightly as he followed, closing the door behind him.

#august walker #henry cavill #walter marshall #captain syverson #hellraiser mike #geralt of rivia #feral instincts

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boygiwrites · 1 year

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Living the Vida Loca P.4

• Jesse Pinkman & Reader. (Platonic)

(Here’s part one.) (Here’s part two.) (Here’s part three.) (Here’s part five.) (Here’s the epilogue.)

• (Find this story on Ao3.)

Summary — A short story about how a young teenaged girl gets wrapped up in Jesse's life.

Notes — We've had a Jesse chapter, a Walt chapter, a Saul chapter, and now I give you a bit of a Mike chapter.

The point of no return.

One evening, while you're walking your neighbour's dog, two men try to kill you.

They leave you with a black eye, a purple cheek, and a red lip, crying next to a dumpster.

All you can think about is how you let the dog run away into the night.

You shuffle to the nearest bus stop, bleeding, and call out Gizmo's name the whole way.

You huddle on the metal bench.

When you find yourself staring at your contacts list, you hesitate.

The white phone light illuminates your wet face.

Jesse has tried to call you fourteen times in the last five minutes.

His unanswered text messages haunt your phone like little ghosts.

Where r u???

come home rigjt now

man i'm sorry ok

come home

i made toast n eggs for dinner

scrambled

pls

ill make waffles if u want

we can watxh tinkerbell

or whatevr

i wont be mad pls just come home

dinners getting cold

please

hello??

A five minute gap.

Get ur ass back in this fking house rn i'm not plauing

Your thumb hovers over the call button.

One last message from Jesse; ur in so much trouble. come home.

You don't even realise you've called Jimmy until his sleepy voice picks up on the other line.

The emergency room is weirdly busy at this hour. For some reason, you imagined it slowing down sometimes.

In the lobby, wearing eye bags but looking more awake than ever, Jimmy calls Walt while he rubs your back.

Then, Walt must call Jesse.

Then, Jesse tries calling you.

A single text appears after you don't pick up; im on my way baby ok

Jimmy walks you through everything that's going to happen once the police arrive, in an attempt to make it all a little less scary.

The nurses stitch up your cheek.

They give you a lollipop that you don't eat.

When two officers come in with tiny notepads and big badges to talk about the assault, Jimmy does all the talking.

All you have to do is nod at random intervals to confirm he's got the story right.

Which he does.

( When you first gave him a detailed recount, he went pale and lost his words. You've never seen him like that before. )

For the sake of yours, Jesse's, Walt's and Jimmy's safety, you agree to leave out the part where the two men claimed Gus Fring's associate sent them.

( Jimmy, who's Gus Fring? )

( Don't ask, sweetie, okay? We'll sort it out. Let me go grab some more tissues. )

The fact they were willing to put police eyes on them for this made you cry harder.

When you're released, you see Jesse waiting for you both on a curb in the parking lot, jittering like crazy.

He runs up to you and hugs you like it's his last chance.

He says he's sorry.

Sorry for everything.

He's sorry for being a shitty dad-brother, he's sorry for yelling, and fighting, and slamming doors on late nights.

He's sorry for coming home at midnight, not saying a word, and then leaving before breakfast.

He's sorry for not killing Derrick when he had the chance; sorry for not doing it sooner.

He's sorry for dragging you into this.

He's sorry for not being there.

And he's sorry that, out of everyone back at that skatepark, you ended up with him.

You hug Jesse back.

Jimmy coughs wetly and tells you guys to break it up, I'm getting misty-eyed over here.

They take you to a 24-hour diner.

It's 11PM.

You cuddle into Jesse's side and eat a big, pink, puffy Krispy Kreme donut.

He wipes away your tears.

Then, Walter finally shows up, apologizing for taking so long. He's out of breath and he has a revolver in his pants line.

He orders a lemon curd donut with cookie crumble on top and eats it with a quaint smile on his face.

Jimmy asks him if he's just happy to be here, or if that's a fucking loaded magnum under his jacket.

Walt explains that he may or may not have taken a midnight stroll.

It may or may not have taken place in a particular neighbourhood.

He may or may not have...

Well, let's not get into all that jazz right now.

He uses a napkin to wipe a speckle of blood off his palm, and stuffs it in his breast pocket.

Jim and Walt talk about a man named Mike, while you and Jesse make paper swans together.

Walt hugs you for the first time ever when you all go your separate ways at 11:46PM.

Jesse lets you know that it's okay if you want to go home with Jimmy tonight.

You called him first, after all.

Jesse tugs on his beanie.

He does that when he's anxious.

You sniff and tell him shakily; No, you idiot. I'm going home with you.

Jimmy hugs you, pats you on the back, and tells you to come over any time you want.

He also promises you that if this goes to court, he's going to have those guys locked up for so long that their grandchildren will be serving life sentences in orange jumpsuits.

He hands you back the lollipop.

You fall asleep in the back of Jesse's car on the way home.

He puts his hoodie over you.

The radio is quiet.

It's cold tonight.

When you wake up sometime around 3AM, you're tucked into Jesse's bed and he's snoring next to you on top of the blankets.

Out of everyone at that skatepark, you're glad it was him.

The aftermath.

Here are all the reasons it does not, in fact, go to court.

The first man turns up missing on the news.

His name is Rico Perez, and you recognise his black goatee and marble-y eyes.

Jesse changes the channel quickly.

Eat your cereal, baby.

You get the feeling that Rico Perez is fizzing away in a Costco bucket somewhere.

That same day, Jesse and Walt install alarms and locks all over your house.

For about a week, you stay home from school.

Jesse calls you baby a lot more now, and sings you to sleep most nights.

He's conscious of not making any loud noises around you.

He keeps a gun on him, even if he's just frying bacon.

He plays videogames with you in your bed, and draws with you, and plays frisbee in the driveway.

He rents DVD upon DVD to watch on his laptop with you.

( They're all Tinkerbell. )

( You've both seen them like a hundred times. )

It feels like you're in witness protection.

The week goes slow.

The second man turns up dead on the news.

His name is Kennedy Adams, and you recognise his wonky teeth and bloated gums.

Jesse lets you watch this time, because Kennedy was the one that did most the damage.

There's a live video of his body bag being zipped up.

Jesse punches the air and shouts, yes bitch, like he's watching the Superbowl.

He has a very long phone call that night.

The aftermath of the aftermath.

Mike Ehrmantraut says you remind him of his granddaughter.

He's got two heavy eyes, a life's worth of scars all over his hands, and the patience of a Saint.

While the two men's deaths were pending, Mike had watched your house from 4PM to 7AM, every day, with a gun in the glovebox.

Apparently, it was him who killed the second guy.

Before one of his shifts, Mike skewered his neck on a police-standard bullet and then paid some shady officers to take the credit for it.

He sounded very bored when he told you the story.

Suffice to say, he fulfilled his duty.

The morning after his last shift watching your house, you find a little teddy bear with a pink bow on the welcome mat.

The note attached reads;

In the hopes you sleep a little easier.

You do.

The night light is still permanent.

Sudden noises still reduce you to hysterics in Jesse's arms.

You'll never visit that neighbourhood again.

Instead of sitting with the other kids, you spend breaks in Walt's classroom while he eats his chicken salad.

You avoid the alley next to Jimmy's building, and instead take up graffitiing his whiteboard with his dried-up markers.

Jesse holds your hand out in public all the time, now, and he bunks with you every night.

His texts don't go unanswered, and they look more like this, now;

miss u 2 see u l8er :)

im at walmart u want ramen??

call me ok we'll do the 4 7 8 breathing thing

yo that looks dope u like picasso n shit

mondays kicking the shiz out my ass

home in 10 :)

u having a good day bby?

yo com downstairs im puting mario cart on

love u

You don't dog-walk anymore.

You don't sing randomly in the kitchen.

You don't talk.

But you sleep a little easier.

When Gizmo is found by an old lady five miles from home, you sleep even better.

When Gus Fring turns up dead on the TV one month later, you sleep like a god damn baby.

End Notes — I couldn't find a suitable place to squeeze this in, so I just implied it, but Walter killed Rico right before showing up at the diner. I imagine he wrapped him in a tarp or something and locked him in his trunk, ate his donut, and then he and Jesse liquified him the next day. Fun times!

#breaking bad #breakingbad #jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman x reader #saul goodman #walter white #mike ehrmantraut #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt-comfort #reader insert #reader

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copious-zygomaticus · 1 month

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Beakers, Blue Matter, And Boys In Love

There’s chemistry brewing in the Walter manor when Peter VI hires a new bioengineer to help with blue matter research. Wacky romantic adventures ensue.

Chapter 1: Welcome To Walter Manor

The steering wheel felt smooth under your sweaty hands as you nervously drove to your new job. After years of research on organic organisms in laboratories, you were moving on to a bigger and more anxiety inducing subject matter. Your previous job at a research lab fell through when investors pulled their funding, deeming that “results weren’t coming along fast enough”. So here you were, parking your car outside the famed Walter Manor to start your job as the on site biotech researcher for blue matter. You click your keys out of the ignition then stand up and smooth your lab coat as a sigh escapes your mouth. You’ve never worked with technology in the same way as you’re about to, and you can’t lie to yourself when your nerves sneak up your stomach lining. You hear the beep of your car locking as your shoes make soft clicks towards the grand doors at the front of the manor. The dark wood is so entrancing and luxurious in its age and majesty. The wood feels aged as you knock on the doors and a large sound echoes out into the house. You hear some distance voices and the turning of cogs followed by metallic crashes. What could possibly be going on in there? The flip of a switch reaches your ears as a machine roars to life. You look above your head and see a complex mechanism opening the grand doors. Your eyes quickly align in front of you to see a pale girl in front of you. Her glossy dark blue hair strikes you as gorgeously distinct in contrast with her clean white lab coat style dress.

*Camille show you around the facilities and welcomes you yada yada*

You arrive at the lab where your research will take place. Placing your bag down on a desk in the pristine office portion of the work space. The Walter girl proceeded to explain which entrance you will use each day and hand you an ID card.

“This card is how you click in and out, so don’t loose it, ‘Kay?” Camille says while bouncing over to put a lanyard attached to your ID around your neck. She is so sweet and the corners of you mouth tug upwards into an inevitable smile. You just know you’re going to be good friends as you work here.

“Thank you Camille, I appreciate all the help around the manor. This place is huge, I have no idea how I’ll manage to navigate it,” a small laugh follows your statement.

“Oh I totally understand! It’s a big place, but I have a little map for you!” She take out a small paper map of the Walter manor with a highlighted path on traced on it in pink.

“So the pink path is how you get to your lab, and I’ve circled the bathrooms and break room for you!” Camille points at the different places on the map as she describes them.

“Thank you so much, this is gonna help a lot!” You smile back at her.

“Perfect! Now I have to go do some repairs, so I’ll leave you to get settled in! And if you need any help from there I’m sure you’ll find someone around to help!” Camille rushed out the door leaving you to your silent devices.

What does she mean I’ll find someone around? I didn’t see or hear another soul except for Camille the entire tour. While unpacking the contents of your bag and contemplating the ominous statement you hear the faint sound of gears turning and metal dropping against the hard floor.

Dear god what is that sound, you just want to start your new job, why is scary shit happening. The sound of puffing steam reached your ears and only made you more confused. You scrambled behind a nearby desk to look professional in case it was your boss; also to put some distance between yourself and whatever was coming your way. After a few seconds, you see a puff of steam in your door way, and then a- wait what.

Why is there a cute guy in your lab? Guy is probably not the correct descriptor, seeing as the man had gold plated skin, screws, cogs, and steam vents. His long light brown curly hair shone under the harsh lights of your new lab. His metallic fingers grabbed at his suspenders, “you must be the new scientist in the manor! The name’s The Jon!” One of his hands leaves his suspenders to wave at you, snapping the band into his torso. There is little reaction on The Jon’s behalf, the largest smile you’ve ever seen plastered on the robot’s face. All you can do is stare with your jaw on the floor. When you heard you were working with blue matter and robots, you were not expecting to meet such sentient human-like robots.

The tension leaves your hands that you did not even realize you had clenched, walking over to your visitor.

“Well ‘The Jon’, it’s lovely to meet you! I’m the new researcher Mr. Walter hired,” you hold out a hand for the gold automaton, which is quickly taken into his smooth cold hands excitedly. His curly brown hair bounced with every shake of the hand, glinting despite being under the harsh leds of the lab. A smile tugs at your lips, seeing someone so outgoing is refreshing in a career filled with older straight edged coworkers.

After shaking hands, you took in more of his appearance and behavior. He had this energetic spring in his every movement despite the springs and coils that limited his range of motion. The job began to speak once more in his melodious voice, “Oh yeah!! I remember Petes’ talkin about that over the tower of tacos on Tuesday,” the mention of a taco tower and the incredibly casual usage of your new boss’ name confused you deeply, but you continued to listen as small hisses of steam interjected The Jon’s words, “I was also lookin for Camille cause Rabbit’s voice modulator is wacking out again, she sounds like a helium balloon!”

The Jon illustrates his statement by making an orb shape with his hands and raising them up like a balloon.

You walk to the door and point to the right, “well she was here a minute ago, she headed in that direction if you wish to catch her.”

He nods at you before running off, waving at you behind him and yelling out a ‘thank you’.

What a strange individual, you thought while shrugging your shoulders.

Little did you know, that was only the beginning of the peculiar things that would happen to you in the Walter Manor.

Thank you all so much for reading! This is my first time writing a fanfic in over 6 years so bear with me. Posts will be inconsistent but I’ll do my best, thanks again! 🩵

#the jon #spg #fanfic #steam powered giraffe #the jon spg #automaton smooches #walter worker #rabbit spg #the spine spg

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mandysxmuses · 1 month

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(( I think we need a wholesome Verhieler memory ))

One of the problems with having a friend who had huge sweet tooth, and being someone who was overly giving and loved to cook, was that you were going to end up with a fridge and containers full of sweets at one point or another.

This was only compounded by the fact that the Void changed so much from day to day. Walter couldn't be expected to reliably find Verheiler's home all the time, and vice versa. This was not the first time Verheiler had not been able to properly cook for himself because he had been so eager to make something for someone else.

... But Walter had made his way here today. That meant freedom.

When Verheiler saw him at the door, he immediately reached out to grab the man's shoulders, pulled him in to kiss both of his cheeks, and rushed back inside.

"Stay there, stay there!"

"Ah-- I beg your pardon?"

Verheiler sprinted through his house and to the kitchen, before running right back to Walter with a container full of sugar cookies he'd decorated to look like Peeps.

"How much can you carry?" asked the healer.

"... I-- what?" Walter was still confused. "I lifted a train car once, do you need help with--?"

"Good!"

Before Walter could ask anything further, the man was running back again. ... And again. ... And again.

Another container of cookies, then one of red velvet cupcakes, an entire three-layered strawberry cake in a box that had to be created by Jemand, because he so subtly put a checkered pattern all over it--

And then some cookies that were definitely Jemand's because they were shaped like music notes and microphones.

"I'm sorry... hah... I didn't want to give these away to you, but he insisted he didn't want any more comfort food."

Before Walter could respond to that, yet again, Verheiler was going on a run.

This time there were pastel lollipops shaped like flowers, a bag of truffles and what Walter would assume were chocolate-covered cherries, a sort of layered chocolate pudding...

By the time Verheiler had rushed out to him again, he found himself being stopped.

"... You don't have to do this all at once. I can make multiple trips, you know, my area's right next to yours today." Walter anxiously grinned. "You're overworking yourself for nothing..."

"Right next to...?" Verheiler watched a pink-painted nail pointing to the left, at the distant white portal. "... Ahaha~! Lucky us, then.. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't overwhelm you."

"No, no, it's nothing. ... I didn't know you'd made so much, though ..."

"Honestly, getting the ingredients together was more of a hassle than anything else, haha~ But I didn't mind a second of it. You're my friend."

#M; The Healer #M; The Vampire

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cavills-kitten · 2 years

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...So am I - Chapter 12

Summary: You are a high ranking Agent with Interpol, happily enjoying your career and domesticity with Walter; but a link to your very dark past emerges. Will your long past connection to a dark August Walker threaten everything you have?

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female Reader (called Veronica), Dark August Walker x female reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, BDSM, impact play, branding, dub-con, non-con, Oral, Fingering, Unprotected Sex. Dark August Walker x reader. Character death. “DEAD DOVE: Do Not Eat!”

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Chapter 12

It seems like hours later when August returns, you’d been dressed and ready for dinner for a while. The dress fits like a glove, the deep V in the front exposes the delicate curve of your breasts. The rest of the dress hugs your curves, the long split exposing your leg up to your hip bone.

You’ve managed to hide the bruises with makeup, the only lipstick choice was a deep red-purple colour. Despite everything, you feel sexy and powerful. You know that you’ve been dressed for August’s pleasure, he always did enjoy seeing you dressed to attract attention, knowing that only he could have you.

Matching shoes and a clutch bag have also been provided. You look at the spike heels on the shoes and wonder.

August walks into the room, he’s dressed in a dinner suit, fighting the urge to roll your eyes you smile at him, vowing to play along until you’ve figured out what his end game is.

“Are you ready Angel” his deep baritone fills the silence. You nod and start to walk towards the door, suddenly you pause and look up at him, even in the heels you’re still so much smaller than he is.

“Just give me a minute,” you ask him and bolt for the bathroom shutting the door. You hunt around for your jacket, relieved that you left it in here. You grab some Kleenex and your pen, together with lipstick and powder and fill the clutch bag.

You walk out, standing tall as you try to evoke an aura of power, you’ll need all your wits around you tonight, knowing how August likes power games.

August offers you his arm and you link it, feeling like you’re in some dream world.

You get a good look at where you are, a large house or hotel, but it's empty. There just seems to be you and August.

August takes your hand and escorts you down the winding staircase, acting like a perfect gentleman. You’re biting your tongue so hard you can almost taste blood, wondering what the hell was going on.

A short walk to the dining room and August finally lets go of your hand, he pulls your chair out and you sit at the table. It's set for dinner, crisp white linen, silverware and a large lit candle making it seem like an intimate dinner for two. You place your clutch bag on the floor, looking again at the spike heels you’re wearing.

August fiddles with his necktie, it’s strange to see the normally confident and arrogant man almost nervous. You can’t help but study the web of scars over the side of his face. Some of the smaller ones have healed, turning pink and white, but the larger ones still look red and angry. Part of you feels sympathy for him, you’re starting to accept that part of you may well always desire him, possibly even love him. You’ve spent years compartmentalising your past and feelings, part of you deep down knew it was never as simple as black and white, right and wrong.

“Angel” August speaking draws you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, August, what do you want”

“Maybe I just wanted to have dinner with you” something flashes behind his eyes, you can’t quite determine what it is.

“Let’s have dinner then, pour me a drink please” You sit back and cross your legs under the table, the movement causes the dress to gape even more, and you can see August’s gaze slide down over your body.

He moves and pours you a large glass of Chablis, chilled to perfection and absolutely delicious, you savour the flavour as it slips down your throat. You can’t help but let out a satisfied sigh.

“You seemed to have calmed down, Angel, tell me what’s changed”

“Nothing has changed August, I’m doing what you want, no more no less.” You fix your eyes on him.

“Tell me, was my cousin a deliberate choice, a poor substitute for me?” His voice takes on that hint of arrogance “Did Walter make you come like I did? Did you scream for him as you did for me?”

You grit your teeth, forcing the words out in a hiss “Don’t say his name, you’re not even worthy to clean his boots”

August sits back “Ah, you don’t like talking about him with me, embarrassed are you Angel?”

Sighing heavily, you respond “I didn’t know at first,” you take another gulp of wine “by the time he explained, we were serious about each other. I don’t know why the fuck I’m telling you this by the way”

“Language Angel…” his tone is chiding

“Oh fuck off August, I’ll say what the fuck I like.” He chuckles lightly.

“Did you not realise the likeness? I’ve been told we’re quite similar visually”.

You snort and reach again for the wine, you hadn’t noticed him refilling it.

“I was too busy trying to reassure him that the fact that he’d been unceremoniously fired from Counter Terrorism Command for some bullshit reason didn’t mean he was a bad person.” You fix August with a stare.

“A mutual colleague suggested he try Interpol and I had a certain freedom to hire whom I wanted. The Met Police’s loss was my team’s gain. Later he told me the real reason behind being stripped of his career, seems that being related to a terrorist isn’t a positive characteristic.” You finish with a sneer.

“A mutual colleague recommended him, hmmmm” August smirks and takes a drink

“Just say what you’re dancing around August, I’m bored already.”

“Ah Angel, but there’s no fun in that is there? I thought you were smarter than this”

A noise makes you turn to the doorway, a burly man stomps in with two plates and slams them down on the table.

Looking at the man with a raised eyebrow, you comment snarkily. “Where do you find them August, mercenary finishing school, they all have the same look and such impeccable manners? Hope they don’t mind working for free, I’m sure you’ve disclosed your cashflow problems.” The man slams the door on his way out, you smirk knowing he paid attention to your comments.

“Your mouth has got worse Angel…” you interrupt him “Oh No, my mouth has got smarter and much tougher.”

You both begin to eat in silence, but you can’t stand it.

“What is the plan August, what do you want. I mean I know you want chaos and change and blah blah blah…what is the point of all this?”

He clears his throat “a helicopter crash and this…” he gestures to his face “makes one revisit one’s priorities.” He looks at you and you raise an eyebrow and nod for him to go on.

“I’m doing what I should have done all those years ago, with you.” He goes over to the sideboard and opens another bottle of wine, walking back to refill your glass again.

“You were a means to an end, you know, at first” he’s standing beside you and reaches out to tilt your head up to him, you look up at him through your lashes, the position and closeness bringing back memories, making you clench with desire and feel nauseous at the same time.

“I’m not sure when it changed, but I should have explained more. I realise now that we would have succeeded together. The world can burn as we watch it together. “ He returns to his seat again.

“After you left, I was surprised, at how you managed it and at how it made me feel. It takes someone…special to surprise me. I know that bastard Solo helped you, I thought you were whoring yourself out for him as well. I’d have dealt with him too but he is too well connected”. August pauses, a sneer on his face.

“But then I realised that you wouldn’t have dared to give yourself to someone else. You were scared, I understand that now. I wouldn’t usually allow it, you leaving me like that, but I found myself missing you, not wanting to hurt you. That surprised me.”

You watch him carefully, breathing heavily, your mind is reeling. “August, let’s be honest with each other, for once. You were using me, moulding me into your perfect little double agent and abusing me for your own ends.” Your voice cracks with emotion.

August’s ice blue eyes burn into yours, “You never told me to stop, Angel, you never said no.” his voice is softer now “You matched me every step of the way, we beckoned each other into the darkness.”

He stands and walks over to you again, pulling you up against him. One hand holding you firmly against him, your bodies pressed together, his other hand strokes your face. His lips are impossibly close to yours, his breath fanning across your face.

“God, I’ve missed you, Angel,” his voice breaks “I realised too late what you mean to me, you’re one of the things that kept me going as I crawled from that fucking helicopter crash.”

You grip his wrist as his hand still holds your face, you suddenly feel emotional, tears pricking your eyes. His thumb drifts towards your lips and you can’t help but softly kiss the pad of his thumb.

“Angel, what we had, is the closest to love I’ve ever felt, the thought of seeing you again drove me forward….” He pauses and looks so broken. You can’t help yourself, you crash your lips against his, feeling his surprise before he takes control of your kiss. His tongue teasing your lips open, dancing into your mouth, he groans as you devour each other.

Your eyes flutter as your body remembers, remembers him, his touch, his smell. His hands roam your body, roughly cupping your ass and pulling you even closer. Your fingers graze over his scarred face, he pulls away and grips your wrist. You feel compassion for him in this moment, for the man he could be, for the man he is, perfectly imperfect. He must see it in your face as he lets your wrist go and you tenderly stroke his damaged face. Dropping a soft feather-light kiss against his cheek, you admit the truth, to him and yourself.

“I never stopped loving you August, but what we did together…we bring out the worst in each other. You controlled me but I let you and I couldn’t stand the guilt. No matter how I felt for you, I can’t live with your plan, it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”

You pull away and sit down again, feeling lighter after finally being honest with yourself. August stalks back to his chair.

“You seem so sure Angel, if I’m wrong then does that make you right?”

You sigh taking another large drink of wine. “August, I don’t think I’m right, just that slaughtering millions of people is wrong. That’s what makes you the sociopath.”

“Again, Angel, if I’m a sociopath then what are you?” August is smirking, he’s enjoying our verbal sparring.

“Me? Hell I don’t know, maybe I’m just kinky” you grin at August and he laughs. You smile wider at the sound and for a second he looks younger, more carefree. For a moment you almost feel like you’re on a date, relaxed and enjoying yourself. You reach for another drink of your wine and you can feel the smile leave your face. Reality hits hard.

“So tell me then August, dazzle me with your magnificent plans. You’re not still chasing plutonium around the globe after all this time?” You lean forward across the table, “tell me, how do you plan on liquidating that pile of gold bars, last time I checked, cash is still king.” You see a flicker in his eyes and know you’ve hit a nerve.

Sitting back in your chair, you tilt your head at him patronisingly, ignoring his threats “It was one of the most satisfying things I have ever done.”

You remain silent, he can’t help but ask “What was Angel”

“Hitting the button at the bank and watching all that liquid cash disappear out of your account. You see that’s why I’m glad I ended up at INTERPOL, you CIA agents are all the same, always go for the top-secret, guns blazing option.” You examine your nails, feigning nonchalance, “I just walked in the front door with a piece of paper and robbed you blind.”

A door slams followed by heavy footsteps, your eyes widen “uh-oh is that why mercenaries-r-us was so grumpy earlier, not paying the help?”

August stares at you, his features stony, any semblance of humanity has left his face. His eyes are cold, you feel like it's the first time you’ve ever seen the truth behind the facade that is August Walker.

His voice is harsh now, “oh Angel, you have no idea, do you? There is very little that the CIA doesn’t know, those in charge decide if they want to take action, pulling strings here and there, letting a bit of information slip out and then they watch their loyal employees run around doing their bidding, their dirty work, believing it’s for the greater good.”

He’s ranting now, you recognise it from all those years ago “someone sent on a wild goose chase over here, someone assassinated over there, someone placed undercover, it’s all about control, covering every possible eventuality. It’s time it stopped.”

“Christ August still the same old story after all this time, we’re all human, just trying our best.”

It’s his turn to slam his fist down on the table, making you jump in your seat.

“Angel, why are you so blind, why did the CIA turn to you? Walter being recommended to you?”

You grit your teeth, “Don’t mention his name, you fucking shot him, you psychopath”

You’re both holding to your tempers, breathing heavily. It feels like two predators circling, eyeing each other to try and spot a weakness, each making a small move only to retreat. August’s arrogance lets him believe you’re still his prey, how wrong he is.

“You have no idea what I’ve done, what I’m going to do and exactly what I’m capable of.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

August takes a deep breath, “Let's discuss what’s next, I know you, Angel, your dark side, you crave it. You turn it in on yourself rather than be honest, to me, to yourself. Just accept who you are and the relief is exquisite.”

With little to lose you decide to up the ante and try a different angle, you slowly let your tongue lick across your lower lip. Now biting your lip you let your gaze become sultry, tilting your head to one side. August smirks, he knows what you are doing.

He stands again and then kneels next to you, bringing his eyes to your level. “No one has ever understood me like you Angel, accepted me fully. Having you here now I feel more complete than ever, nothing will be able to stop us.”

“No one has ever come as close as you to besting me, but you still have weaknesses, I’ll help you shed those, nothing will hold you back ever again.” He reaches out and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

His change of mood is giving you whiplash.

He clears his throat and stands, his eyes not leaving your face. “If it’s all right shall we forgo dessert, I’d prefer something…sweeter.” His voice is now deeper. You look down as if unsure, and then feel concerned as your vision starts to go wavy.

He holds out his hand, “How about an after-dinner drink first then?” As you stumble he helps you to stand and moves towards the sofa facing the window, gripping your clutch bag you follow him.

“Whiskey please August, make it a large one” you request and turn to stare out of the glass doors, looking into the darkness. Feeling a little woozy from the wine, you’re drawn closer to the windows. Watching the trees in the distance, the darkness, you think you can see movement but then an owl calls out, a brief flash of light draws your gaze but you shake your head after seeing nothing but stillness out there. You feel lightheaded and so tired, you usually have a high tolerance for wine and you don’t think you drank that much.

August returns and he hands you a tumbler of Whiskey. You swirl the dark amber liquid, inhaling the aroma, you catch a whiff of something unusual but in a second it's gone. August takes a step closer, you can feel his warm body pressed against you, and his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you back even closer to him. You can feel his warm breath against your neck, the smell of his cologne surrounding you.

You take a large drink, wincing slightly at the burn and frowning at the strange aftertaste. “Tell me Angel” August is whispering to you, his lips so close you can feel them brush against your neck as he speaks “have you missed this” and he grinds against you, pressing his hard length against your ass.

Your heart is pounding as you drain your drink. Feeling incredibly relaxed you lean back against August, closing your eyes. The glass falls to the floor, but something in the back of your mind makes you grip tighter to your bag in your other hand.

You hum as warm lips caress your neck, licking and sucking. A large hand slides along your dress, taking advantage of the deep plunge neck, slipping inside to cup a breast. Your nipple hardens instantly, making you moan softly. You’re floating on a cloud of desire, wetness pooling in your expensive underwear. His rough fingers roll your nipple.

“Angel, shall I make you feel good” his voice is rich and deep. “Shall I make you writhe against me in ecstasy?”. The suggestion makes your mouth go dry with need. “All you need to do is talk to me.” You’re now grinding back against him, needing more stimulation, your body is on fire with desire. “You know that only I can satisfy you, you need to please me first.”

Your mind feels so foggy, you were just doing something, it’s important. Then his large hand pinches your nipple making you gasp, his other hand is working into the split in your dress, digging inside your panties. A thick finger caresses your folds, deliberately avoiding your bundle of nerves. An involuntary moan escapes from your lips as you turn to jelly in his arms.

“Angel” the voice whispers “I know you want to orgasm, so badly, just listen to my voice and you can have anything you want” The finger presses down on your clit, making your whole body jolt as a wave of wetness drips from your pussy.

The voice groans, rocking a hard dick against you. Something is stuck in your mind, you have to… the finger moves from your pussy and you wail in need. You’re being held against his rock-hard body, there is something not right.

The deep voice caresses your senses, “I’ll touch you again, but you have to tell me, who else knows about me.”

Your mouth is open as you try and think about what you’re being asked. The need in you is burning, a fire raging deep inside. He firmly grinds against you, his hard cock pressing along your ass cheeks. You can’t think clearly, you need some air, you let your body fall limp and you slip out of his grasp and stumble to the doors, somehow opening them. You drag lungfuls of cold air into you, the cold easing the burning fire inflaming your body.

An alarm is ringing shrilly, you look around the darkness outside, seeing two men dressed in black advancing on you. You’re walking backwards, your eyes on August, you just need a minute to think!

You look as August stalks towards you, you can see the imprint of his huge cock, erect and proud in his trousers. The need for him pools inside you and you stumble slightly, not knowing why you can’t go to him, you’re torn between needing him to touch you and needing to get away from him.

“Don’t touch her, you’ll mess up the suggestions” August snarls at the men. Your eyes widen, you can feel the start of the fog clearing, and you can see the edges of what is happening to you in your mind. All the time you’re slowly edging backwards away from August.

“Angel, listen to me, just focus on my voice, how you feel when I touch you” August is holding out his hand to you, “Answer my question, who else knows about me, how you found me”

You open your mouth to answer, then the words die in your throat as you recall Walter’s voice. You look around frantically not seeing him, your hand still gripping your clutch bag so tightly it’s shaking.

“Stop this August, please” you beg, “I don’t know what’s happening”

“Angel, stop fighting this and give in to me, you know you want to” his voice is like velvet, soothing and rich “don’t make me show you how dangerous I am”

Suddenly making a decision you turn and take off running, as fast as you can in your stupid heels. Shoes tapping on the stone are followed by August’s heavier thuds. You reach a low wall and try and climb over it but the shoes and the dress are in the way, making you slip. You cry in frustration and pain, the burning desire is still fuelled deep inside of you, and you turn to face August.

He presses against you, easily lifting you off your feet, “I warned you, Angel, now it won’t be as pleasant.” You’re hitting him and trying to kick him, but he ignores you like a lion ignores a fly.

“Stop, I don’t want this” you sob.

“The drug will damage you unless you have an injection of oxytocin and dopamine, it makes you pliant to suggestions, to telling the truth….”

You scream at August as he spins you around and bends you over the garden table, you drop your bag as you brace yourself, feeling the rough wood under your palms.

You can feel his hand roughly lifting your dress, fingers digging into your ass painfully. A large hand is pinning you flat against the table.

You turn your head to try and look at him, you can see your bag spilled open on the table and you reach for your pen.

“August, don’t do this…” you struggle against him.

You hear a zipper and feel his dripping cock against your thighs, the sensation causes to you gasp and shiver. It feels so good, and it will only feel better if you let him fuck you.

“A useful side effect is sexual arousal Angel, it's a fantastic interrogation tool,” he leans over you, his lips close to your ear “I want you to beg me”. He tugs harshly on your underwear, ripping them from you, groaning in your ear “this could have been so much more pleasant Angel”

You squeeze the pen in your hand so hard it hurts, you moan and at the same time remove the pen lid. You fight to keep hold of your thoughts. It's on the tip of your tongue to beg him, beg him to ruin you, it will feel so good. You’ve never felt so needy.

He drags his cock between your thighs, coating himself in your juices, “It's for your own good Angel, the other antidote is pleasure, it makes your brain release the right chemicals.” You cry out as he brushes the tip of cock against your clit, the burning cools for a moment.

“August”, you gasp “let me see you please.”

He spins you over and stands between your spread legs, his dick hanging hard and dripping. You lift yourself up on one elbow and the sight of your glistening cunt with his cock so close causes the desire to flare again.

It hurts, so much; you just want it to stop. He rubs himself between your dripping folds, one swift thrust and he’s buried deep inside of you, making you scream and convulse under him. He brings his face close to yours, revelling in the power he has over you.

“Told you I was dangerous Angel” he whispers inches from your face.

You look up at him, bringing the hand holding your pen higher, without its lid it's your hidden covert blade. “So am I August” you hiss and quickly plunge the blade into his carotid artery and out again. It all happens in a split second it seems, he stands and steps back, hands flying to his neck as dark red blood pumps from the hole. You’re frozen in shock.

He starts to call out to his men, but three quick whooshing noises make you look into the darkness. You’re hit with a spray of blood as August’s head explodes with the first shot. You watch, screaming as he falls backwards, hand still clutching his throat, ice blue eyes staring. He’s dead before he hits the floor.

You look for his men and see them lying dead on the ground. You can’t understand what has happened, the pain in your body returns and the heat burns you. Your head is pounding, and your vision going white. You fall to the floor and curl up into a ball, moaning in pain.

You can hear a helicopter land, the noise of boots on the ground, and radios hissing. A grim face covered in camo paint fills your sight, the short buzz cut and bushy beard seem familiar, a voice calls out “Captain” as you finally succumb and pass out.

#henry cavill smut #august walker x reader #walter marshall x reader #henry cavill fanfic #dark smut #walter marshall x you

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typingtess · 2 years

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NCIS: Los Angeles Season 13 Rewatch: “Sundown”

The basics: The father of a dead Marine hijacks a bus to find out the truth about his daughter’s death.

Written by: Lee A. Carlisle wrote or co-wrote “Golden Days”, “Reentry”, “Into the Breach”, “Concours D’Elegance” and “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”. Carlise has been working as a story editor on the program from “Alsiyadun” in season 11 through the season 12 finale.

Directed by: Suzanne Saltz directed “Outside the Lines” and “Murder of Crows”.

Guest stars of note: Charles Malik Whitfield as Gary DeMayo, Kiff Vanderheuvel as Carl, Mo Radvanich as Rita, Jacqueline Obradors as LAPD Captain Maya Lopez, Deidre Henry as Rachel DeMayo, Tatiana Carr as Jackie and Walter Belenky as Lawrence Kerr

Our heroes: Right a terrible wrong.

What important things did we learn about:

Callen: Would have killed for foster parents like Kensi and Deeks. Sam: Hostage negotiator. Kensi: Has high cover as the team goes after the sniper. Deeks: A rare teaming with Callen. Fatima: Working PT everyday just to get back to normal mobility. Rountree: Damien Robinson from the LA Register. Kilbride: Keeping the SecNav in the loop.

What not so important things did we learn about:

Callen: Comrade Callen. Sam: Enjoying a cold beer on the newly found deck. Kensi: Stalking out other couples looking to adopt. Deeks: Sure some of the other adopting parents are flat-earthers. Fatima: Unhappy with peg leg jokes. Rountree: Happy with his new desk. Kilbride: Sharing a beer with Callen and Sam.

Where in the world is Henrietta Lange? Not a Hetty episode.

Who's down with OTP: Deeks does a good job of having his own “more being, less doing” conversation with Kensi.

Who's down with BrOTP: An unusual pairing of Callen and Deeks makes for a lovely conversation in Callen’s car about becoming a parent and how much Callen would have loved parents likes Kensi and Deeks.

Fashion review: Callen is in his grey checked button-down shirt. Blue-grey, long-sleeve tee-shirt for Sam. In their adoptive parents gear, it is a white, button-down blouse for Kensi and a pink polo shirt for Deeks. Fatima is wearing a sand colored jacket over a white turtleneck. Long-sleeve black henley for Rountree. Dark blue three-piece suit for the Admiral over a blue checked dress shirt and a red pattern tie.

Music: อยู่หรือไป (feat. ตาเนม) by G-Bear being played on the bus in the teaser. The aptly titled “Girl in the War” by Josh Ritter is playing when Gary DeMayo is being arrested.

Any notable cut scene: No.

Quote: There is so much good dialogue in this episode.

DeMayo: “I'm sorry, baby. I had to. It's the only way I get them to listen. And I was right. They're looking into Kyra's case again.” Rachel: “I know. S-So can't you just let everyone go now?” DeMayo: “Not until she's cleared. I have to keep the pressure on. Look, else they're just gonna push us aside. We're just gonna be another Black family in pain to ignore.”

Anything else: An LA city bus is making its way through the downtown area. While there are a few people on the bus – an older woman knitting, a student doing some last minute homework – a middle age man isn’t too happy with a young woman listening to some Thai music on 11 (“This is Spinal Tap” reference). The man asks the woman to turn it down. When she doesn’t, in fact the makes it louder, he pulls out his badge. No more Thai music as the bus pulls into its next stop.

A Black man enters the bus with a gun. He starts ordering the passengers to the back of the bus. The man with the badge tries to grab the gun and the two struggle. A shot is fired, the man with the badge groans and collapses. The gunman orders the passengers to take the injured man to the back of the bus.

Pulling out a deadman’s switch, the gunman has a bomb in a duffle bag. If someone tries to take the deadman’s switch from him, the bus explodes. Walking to the front of the bus, the gunman disables the security camera with extreme prejudice.

In the boatshed, Callen is reviewing some paperwork when Sam arrives with coffee. Sam jokes about Callen recruiting Russians (well, he did with Zasha) and calling Agent Carlson (nice callback). Callen has a search warrant for Katya’s safety-deposit box. He has several of Katya’s passports and reports, dirt really, on several high ranking Russian intelligence officers. Sam sees the dirt as an insurance policy against Katya’s bosses.

Unfortunately, the safety-deposit box is old. Katya hadn’t been to the bank in over five years – before she was sent to prison. The box was prepaid. Sam comes across what Callen sees as “one strange item” – an invoice. Katya is storing something with Crusciel & Crusciel, a fine-art investment house. Sam doesn’t see Katya as a collector. Since there is an inventory number on the invoice, Callen is going to have Fatima check it out as well as go through Katya’s fake passport aliases. Sam is happy to have some “good leverage on a Russian, no offense, Comrade Callen.”

Sitting at his new desk, Rountree seems excited. Fatima makes her way in with a cane and a desire not to hear peg leg jokes. Roundtree wouldn’t do that, OK he would. He asks about her recovery. It is not going as quickly as she’d like but “I ain’t got time to bleed.” Rountree recognizes the movie quote from “Predator”. Fatima is proud of Rountree for upping his 80’s movies game. Rountree is all in for a “badass, invisible alien.”

Fatima says the movies get it all wrong about getting shot. She’s doing daily physical therapy just to get back her basic mobility – “They don’t show you that in a Stallone flick.” Fatima marvels that Callen got back to work after being shot five times. Rountree wonders if that’s why Callen is cranky sometimes. Fatima’s tablet beeps – they have a case.

Outside an adoption seminar, Kensi and Deeks are looking at the other perspective parents. Kensi is more doing the stake out, Deeks is there for an informational session about the process of adoption. Kensi thinks the seminar makes what they’re doing more real. Deeks can’t believe Kensi thinks they’ll be judged on the seminar. Deeks understands they don’t have the most normal lives but the people walking into the seminar don’t have perfect lives either. Pointing to a couple that just walked in, he thinks one is a flat-earther who believes o go to the Bahamas and then drop into oblivion. He gets Kensi to laugh. He wants to go inside. As they get out of the car, Deeks gets an alert. Kensi is going into the seminar, Deeks is going to the office.

Callen and Sam from the boatshed, Rountree and the Admiral in Ops with Fatima review the case. Gary DeMayo, the father of a former Marine took over a bus. They are near MacArthur Park. There are five hostages including a wounded off-duty LAPD officer. DeMayo’s daughter, Kyra, was a Marine until she fell asleep on guard duty in Afghanistan when an incursion happened. Kyra suffered a traumatic brain injury, several other Marines were injured and a cache of weapons were stolen. During an investigation, Kyra was found with a opioids in her system and was given a dishonorable discharge. Callen thinks it was a good thing none of the Marines died. Fatima tells the group that Cpl. DeMayo took the whole incident hard. She took her own life two-weeks ago. Everyone agrees this probably triggered Gary DeMayo.

Callen asks for DeMayo’s demands. DeMayo has two – he wants his daughter’s name cleared and he wants to prove she didn’t kill herself. If the team can’t do that, he’ll kill all the hostages at sundown, which is seven-hours away. Sam asks if there is anything to support DeMayo’s claims. Fatima is reviewing the case, Castor is bringing DeMayo’s wife/Kyra’s mother Rachel to the boat shed. The Admiral says the SECNAV wants the team to assist LAPD on the scene.

Since he has dealt with grieving military families in the past, Sam volunteers to go to the bus. He hopes to get through to DeMayo. Rountree took the FBI hostage negotiation course so he’s joining Sam. Deeks is making his way to the boat shed to help Callen interview DeMayo’s wife. The Admiral wants everyone to tread carefully – there are a lot of people watching and they need to do it right.

LAPD is evacuating every building within 100-yards of the bus when Sam and Rountree arrive. Captain Maya Lopez of the LAPD is happy to have them with the team. LAPD confirmed that DeMayo has a dead man’s trigger but they aren’t sure he has a bomb. There are SWAT officers surrounding the bus and snipers on the rooftop but DeMayo covered the windows with newspaper so LAPD isn’t sure what is really going on inside. Rountree asks if they’ve communicated with DeMayo. A secure walkie-talkie was delivered to the bus with a low-power cellphone jammer. DeMayo can only talk to LAPD but he hasn’t spoken to them yet. That’s worrisome since there is an injured officer inside the bus.

Rountree suggests pulling back SWAT. Hostage-taking is not usually a highly planned event – a show of force works in that case. This is a man who took a bus hostage with a deadman’s switch and possibly explosives. This is someone who knew how LAPD would respond. Pulling the SWAT team back could open the lines of communication. Lopez says “with all due respect” LAPD is running the situation, NCIS is there to consult. Sam would like to consult with DeMayo. Lopez is not on board for that – “our negotiation team is highly qualified.” Sam doesn’t doubt that but Sam could start to talk to DeMayo and then have SWAT retreat if DeMayo responds. Reluctantly, Lopez agrees but warns Sam he’s on a short leash. If there is any sign of trouble, SWAT is going right back in.

On the bus, the injured officer is being tended to by the woman playing the loud music. Everyone else is silent and sitting in the back of the bus. Sam introduces himself over the walkie-talkie as Sam Hanna, NCIS and asks how DeMayo is doing. Claiming everyone is fine, DeMayo asks about his daughter’s case. Sam says they are working on it but Sam needs to know about the injured passenger. When DeMayo tries to explain that the officer tried to take DeMayo’s gun, Sam assures DeMayo that nobody else will try that. Sam thinks his job is to get everyone off the bus safely, including DeMayo. DeMayo says Sam knows what he has to do to get everyone off the bus safely.

Sam has the SWAT team move back as a gesture of good faith and tells DeMayo that. Asking why DeMayo thinks his daughter was murdered, DeMayo tells Sam that Kyra was set up from the start. Kyra didn’t do drugs. Kyra’s discharged barred her from possessing a gun so where could she get one? Sam understands but tells DeMayo that clearing his daughter’s name may take more time. DeMayo has his demands.

In the boatshed, Deeks brings coffee to Rachel DeMayo, who is wearing a nurse’s uniform. She said she could not believe watching the television and seeing her husband holding a bus full of hostages on the news. Callen asks if DeMayo was capable of “something like this?” Her immediate answer is no but it has been a hard time for them – they’re estranged. Kyra’s discharge and death, DeMayo lost his business during the pandemic. Kyra moved back home after her discharge and that was a struggle.

Deeks asks if anything changed about her husband after Kyra died. Rachel said her husband was distant and withdrawn after Kyra’s death. That made sense to her but one day, DeMayo just left. She figured he was with family or friends, working through his grief. Callen asks if DeMayo would carry out his threats. She’d like to say no but she isn’t sure.

In Ops, The Admiral is looking for a sitrep. Fatima spoke with Kyra’s former CO who thought she was a good Marine until the night of the incursion. She had no incidents on a record and here was no history of drug use. Looking into her death, Fatima confirmed that Kyra’s body was found in Austell Park after reports that someone heard a single gunshot. She had a pistol in her hand, a head wound and there are security cameras showing her entering the park. Fatima isn’t sure why she’d do this in the park. The Admiral explains that Kyra was living at home and probably didn’t want her parents to deal with the cleanup around a suicide.

Quickly moving off that topic, the Admiral wants to know about the gun. Fatima doesn’t have much on the gun. Fatima asks what happens if DeMayo is wrong – if the official story about Kyra’s time in Afghanistan and her death are all true. The Admiral prays Sam is a good negotiator.

Deeks asks Mrs. DeMayo if she believes her husband’s claims that Kyra was murdered. She’s like to. Kyra struggled when she returned home. Callen asks if Kyra talked about her time in Afghanistan. Kyra tried to remember what happened but could not. The DeMayos got Kyra to see a therapist. Going into her bag, Rachel pulls out a notebook. The therapist wanted Kyra to write down anything that “came back to her.” Rachel hasn’t been able to read it but wants Callen to if it could help clear Kyra or help her husband.

As Callen looks at the notebook, Deeks asks if Kyra thought the therapy helped. It helped some but the family was paying for the treatment. “We tried so hard. We really did. But we just couldn’t afford the treatment.” With the VA so backed up, the system killed Kyra. “It failed her. And it failed us.”

Callen asks about the last entry in the notebook – a name “Lawrence Kerr” and a question mark. Deeks gives the name to Fatima.

Sam tries to share his losses with DeMayo, who is having none of it from “Agent Hanna”. When Sam says he’s just Sam, DeMayo makes it clear that Sam isn’t his friend and he’s not looking for Sam’s advice, who is just as biased as the military. Sam suggests a non-military investigation. If Sam sent in a reporter to look into Kyra’s case, could they be a one for one switch – a reporter for the injured police officer. In the SWAT truck, Lopez is impressed. Rountree wonders where they’ll get a reporter to go into the bus. There won’t be a reporter, Sam explains, he’s sending Rountree in.

With Fatima providing all the backstopping even though there is no cell service available in the bus, Lopez hands Rountree a reporter’s digital recorder that allows SWAT to listen when he’s on the bus. Sam reminds Rountree that he’s going in as a reporter – “don’t go hard on him.” DeMayo feels nobody is listening. Listen to him. Sam also wants to know if the bomb is viable. Rountree knows what he has to do.

Bringing Rountree as Damien Robinson from the LA Register to the bus, Sam asks for final permission to approach the bus. Sam comes to the bus and with the help of the bus driver, gets the injured officer off the bus. Rountree gets on the bus and is a little nervous when the doors close. DeMayo pats Rountree down, who looks at all the frightened passengers. After the pat down, Rountree starts the interview.

Callen asks if Rachel would be willing to go to the bus. She’s reluctant. Deeks asks if she still loves her husband. “Of course,” she answers. “Well, then I think it’s important that he knows that.” She’s doesn’t know what to say. Callen suggests speaking from her heart. She is willing to give it a try.

Fatima pops up on the plasma. Lawrence Kerr isn’t military but he works for an HVAC company in the Valley. Callen and Deeks are going to interview Kerr, Agent Castor is going to take Mrs. DeMayo to the bus. Deeks tells Rachel she’s got it.

Kensi’s phone goes off twice during the adoption seminar, distracting everyone to the point where the woman leading the group calls for a break. Kensi is still getting calls when the woman running the seminar comes by with some advice. Checking your phone constantly to see if there is a possible child to adopt is not the way to handle things. It is a different path for everyone but these things take time as you do what’s right for her family.

Driving to the HVAC company, Deeks explains that Kensi had her phone turned off during the adoption seminar but any call from Ops would go through. Callen asks Deeks about the adoption. Deeks admits it is tough – he feels like he’s hacking his way through a jungle with no path. As a foster kid, Callen would have killed to have parents like Kensi and Deeks. Deeks appreciates Callen’s support.

Fatima interrupts the rare Callen-Deeks nice moment with news about Lawrence Kerr. Kerr and his company did HVAC work in Afghanistan while Kyra was there. They spoke the night before Kyra died. And now Callen thinks this could be a motive if Kyra was murdered. Which means to Deeks that DeMayo’s claims about his daughter may all be true.

Still thinking Rountree is a reporter, DeMayo shows him a photo of Kyra and talks about her choice to join the Marines. He didn’t see it for her but once she enlisted, she really found herself. Kyra had great things ahead of her, DeMayo says. She was the best of his wife and of him. Sam calls in on the walkie-talkie with Rachel DeMayo. Rachel asks why is DeMayo doing this. He thinks it is the only way anyone will listen. “And I was right,” he says. NCIS reopened Kyra’s case. Rachel thinks DeMayo achieved his goal – let everyone go. DeMayo can’t – “they’re just gonna push us aside” if he doesn’t keep the pressure on. We’re just gonna be another Black family in pain to ignore.” Rachel wants to see her husband.

As DeMayo walks to the door and his wife begs him to get off the bus, Rountree looks at the bomb. DeMayo sees several LAPD officers move into position so he retreats to the back of the bus where he finds Rountree looking at the bomb. Furious, DeMayo demands Rountree explain himself. Saying the bomb was part of the story, Rountree wants to frame the story that all the pain DeMayo and his wife suffered led to the bus and the bomb. “What happens when pleas for help go ignored.” The bomb is real.

Sam calls in with an apology but DeMayo is having none of it. LAPD acted without Sam’s knowledge, Sam promises that won’t happen again. While Sam is talking to DeMayo, Rountree gets lipstick from the woman who was knitting when DeMayo commandeered the bus. Writing “TATP” on the window before DeMayo sees him, Rountree tells LAPD and Sam about the bomb – triacetone triperoxide – “Mother of Satan”. This is what would be used in an airline bomb. Lopez is worried they have less than an hour before sundown.

In the parking lot of the HVAC company, Callen and Deeks see Kerr. Callen is going to confront him with Deeks taking the back. Callen shows Kerr his badge and Kerr runs right into Deeks. Making a sharp turn, Kerr runs away but near a hose. Deeks pulls on the hose and the “yellow bellied Kerr” falls down. Callen is impressed.

Fatima traced the gun found near Kyra to a Lionel Sopko from Crenshaw who sold it under the table to a pawnshop for some under the table cash. The pawnshop admitted buying the gun and sold it the day Kyra died. Their security cameras show the buyer – it was Kyra. Security cameras around the park show nobody entering or exiting around the time the gunshot was fired. Kyra killed herself. The Admiral is crushed – he tells Fatima to update Sam.

Sam updates Lopez on Kyra’s death. Lopez is worried but Sam thinks DeMayo could deal with it if he’s told the truth. Lopez will let Sam make that call but it will be his final decision – they are almost out of time and LAPD will have to go tactical.

Sam approaches the bus with the bad news about Kyra “father to father, man to man.” Gary yells no and stomps around the bus.

Kensi gets another call – she leaves the adoption seminar.

Handcuffed and leaning on the back of Callen’s car, Kerr knows this is about Kyra because he saw DeMayo took over the bus. Deeks arrives with the news from Fatima that Kyra committed suicide. Kerr realizes they suspected him as a killer and makes it clear he could never do that. Deeks asks if Kerr was with Kyra the night of the incursion. Kerr starts to dither but Callen is pushing the deadline. He brings up Kerr being in the journal.

Kerr tells them he was talked into working with his boss. The boss knew the Marines secured a cache of weapons from some local fighters. The plan was to steal the guns back, sell them to the locals. While the other three dressed up as insurgents, Kerr’s assignment was to take care of the guard watching the base that night – it was Kyra. Kerr liked Kyra, they were friends on the base. Kyra was covering for another Marine, she wasn’t even supposed to be on duty that night.

Fearing for his life from the others, Kerr drugged Kyra but she came to just as the others were loading the guns. Kyra was still struggling with the effects of the drugs when she saw the others and started firing. That’s what started everything. Callen asks about the other three men. Kerr only knew his boss, who took off that morning when DeMayo hijacked the bus. Deeks calls Fatima to track down the boss, Callen calls Sam about Kyra being set-up.

DeMayo doesn’t know what to do. He’s heartbroken but carrying the gun. Tossing away his gun, DeMayo orders everyone off the bus. The hostages all leave except Rountree. He asks DeMayo what’s next. DeMayo wants Rountree off the bus. Asking Rountree to make sure everyone is a safe distance from the bus, DeMay says he took his chance and he was wrong. Rountree isn’t leaving with DeMayo but DeMayo makes it clear, he’s still running things. Or he was until laser from a gun in the window. Grabbing DeMayo, Rountree pulls them to the floor just as someone opens fire.

As he runs into the SWAT truck, Sam demands Lopez tell her team to stop firing. It isn’t her team who are shooting. Inside the bus, Rountree and DeMayo are taking serious fire.

Deeks is staying with Kerr as Callen races to the bus. Sam is having a hard time locating where the sniper is positioned. Fatima finds Kerr’s cell phone pinging from a building just a few blocks from the bus. Callen isn’t so sure about this – the boss doesn’t know Kerr flipped.

In the bus, the paper covering the windows is catching fire as the gunshots come in. Little pieces of flaming paper are dropping near the bomb. A bullet hits the bag holding the bomb but it doesn’t blow. The wires that open and close the bus doors and run the communication systems are also hit, causing more fires. Rountree calls into Sam, telling DeMayo he is NCIS and he’s getting DeMayo out.

With two LAPD bullet proof shields, Sam runs to the bus. Rountree takes one shield, Sam has the other as they guide DeMayo to safety. The bus explodes just as they make it to safety.

On the roof of a nearby building, Kerr’s boss takes his sniper rifle and starts to pack up. Callen stops him. When the boss tries to shoot at Callen, Kensi returns fire with her snipe rifle from a nearby building. More shots are exchanged before Callen knocks out Kerr’s boss. “Shooter secured.”

The police move in on DeMayo, who puts his hands up, dropping the useless deadman’s switch on the ground. SWAT takes DeMayo into custody as Rachel watches. She tries to run to her husband. A female officer tries to stop her but she’s not deterred. Before he’s taken away, Rachel hugs him one last time.

Lopez is grateful for to Sam and would be happy to work with him in the future. Rountree tells Sam that Fatima confirmed Kerr’s story. Sam shares this with DeMayo and the news that Kyra was framed. DeMayo is grateful to Sam and Damien. Rountree tells DeMayo his real name and DeMayo is still grateful. Explaining he was desperate and without options, DeMayo apologizes but admits if he had to do it all over again, he would.

In the bullpen, Deeks greets an arriving Kensi. She talks a little about the seminar but realizes adoption isn’t going to solve their problems. They couldn’t go to one seminary without being called away – both of them. What happens with a kid in the picture? Deeks admits he has no idea. He doesn’t have an idea how to do any of this but that’s what having a kid is all about. They are taking their hearts, pulling them out of their bodies and hoping that it isn’t “mauled by a saber-tooth tiger.”

A million things can go wrong but that doesn’t outweigh them becoming a parent. Fear can’t guide what they do. Kensi tells Deeks he’s right, “like always.” They are going to figure this out because that’s what parents do. Kensi needed a pep talk and so did Deeks. They share ‘I love yous” before Kensi brings up being hungry. As they go for dinner, Kensi brings up foster children and Deeks tells her he was thinking the same thing.

For the first time in episode 286, we learn the boatshed has a balcony. Callen and Sam are on it drinking some beer while a beautiful greenscreen, whoops, background of the water is behind them. They talk about Kyra who Callen wonders might still be alive if the truth was revealed sooner. Sam isn’t sure, suicide is an epidemic among struggling veterans, especially women.

The Admiral arrives and he is unaware of the deck as the fans at home. Callen has no single malt but he will share some beer. Saying he could use one, Callen hands the Admiral a beer. The SECNAV is reversing Kyra’s dishonorable discharge. Not only has she been restored to her old position, Kyra was promoted posthumously to sergeant with all related backpay. Her remains will be moved to a veterans’ cemetery and will be reburied with full honors. Also posthumously, Kyra will be award the Navy and Marine Medal, the highest honor given in a non-combat situation for her defense of the base. “It’s the least we could do. She deserved so much more,” Sam sighs.

Callen notes that DeMayo won’t be at any of the ceremonies. Sam can’t stop thinking about DeMayo’s claim he’d do it all again. Callen isn’t – if Sam truly believed the only way he could get justice for Aiden and Sam, would Sam consider it. That’s what Sam keeps thinks about. The Admiral agrees – any parent would do whatever they could for their child. They hope for some healing for the DeMayo family.

What head canon can be formed from here: Lots of parent talk here with the case being about a father and what that means to Sam. Kensi and Deeks are trying to be parents. Callen makes a comment about not having parents. The Admiral talks about parents protecting a child.

I always wish the show would do an update. Gary DeMayo shot a cop, hijacked a bus and caused all sorts of trouble. But his story is awful. Kyra committed suicide but she was really killed the night of robbery/incursion. She found herself in the Marines and the greed of four civilian contractors took that all away from her. DeMayo got justice for his daughter – justice that wasn’t coming any other way.

Fantastic Sam episode. Strong Kensi and Deeks conversations but again Deeks is the one who is all zen about being a parent while Kensi is terrified. A few episodes before, it was the exact opposite and it will be again in a few episodes. A minor nitpick in an episode that is a not only one of the best episodes of season 13, it is one of the best episodes of the last few seasons.

Episode number: Season 13’s sixth episode, episode 286 overall.

#NCIS: Los Angeles Rewatch #NCIS: Los Angeles #NCIS: LA #NCIS Los Angeles #ncis la

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

But professor… - c.2

Summary: Penny continues to have some questions about the assignment, but thankfully professor Marshall is right there to help her out

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next Chapter

My second criminology class, I was feeling a bit under the weather, but like the real die hard that I am, confusing to give in and rest (which would’ve be the better idea), I continued to go to class. I hid part of my face behind my scarf, while I would take a sip of my tea every now and then. I barely absorbed anything that class and professor Marshall must’ve noticed, because he didn’t call for me the entire class.

Thankfully.

But now I feel better and am going to make up for my lack of attention last class. While the the class can be pretty gore, it has become my favorite class, partially because I really like professor Marshall.

No wait, solely because I like professor Marshall.

I don’t want to admit it, but I kinda went out of my way to look presentable for class. I spend my entire life being invisible, unnoticed, but that’s not the case in this class. It’s nice to be acknowledged (I could do without Fitzgerald, who continues to creepily stare from a distance). I put on some lipstick, that matches my blush pink sweater.

Professor Marshall looks up from his notes when I walk in the lecture hall, one corner of his mouth curled up a bit. ‘Morning,’ he says, his tone low and brass.

‘Good morning,’ I say softly, walking towards my assigned seat. Since last class happened in a blur, I am going to pay extra attention to this one.

It is hard though, to focus. We have to understand the crime scene, trying to dissect what happened exactly. However, all the blood, fake or not, makes me want to vomit. I swallow hard and thankfully professor Marshall is skipping over me.

Until…

‘Miss Townsend,’ the professor says, ‘overlap between the victims. I want at four points.’

Four points? Is he for real? That’s a lot. I hate that I made a sort of good point the first class. I have to live up to that expectation now.

Think, Penny, think. ‘All victims are fathers,’ I start, ‘white collar workers and have a brunette wife.’ I try to remember what he told us about and what I read prior to this class. ‘They had affairs with someone they worked with, someone who worked a job that paid less than theirs.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

‘The killer has a type,’ I say, but from the looks of it, he wants more. ‘The victims are carefully picked out, maybe because… These men remind the killer of someone?’

He nods. ‘Exactly.’

I let out a deep relieved sigh, knowing that there is a possibility that he won’t pick me again. I see Fitzgerald looking over his shoulder, to basically gawk at me. He is going out of his way to say intelligent stuff during classes, but everything that leaves his lips is… Bullshit.

After the class ended, I stay for a bit, because of course I have another question. I might not be entirely stupid, but academically gifted is not applicable to me. ‘Professor Marshall,’ I say, as I walk towards him.

‘Miss Townsend,’ he says, ‘you did well today in class.’

‘Oh.’ Stupid me, blushing again. ‘Thank you. I have another question about the assignment.’

‘Why?’

Did he seriously just asked me why? I start to stammer a bit, taken aback from his retort. How am I supposed to answer that? Maybe just stick with the truth? ‘Because I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand?’

‘The case I chose,’ I say.

‘You have time at four?’ he asks. ‘To meet me in my office? I can help you out.’

I nod with a smile. I am going to his office! ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘Where are your glasses?’ he asks, placing the presenter on the table.

He noticed that I wasn’t wearing my glasses today? Is it because I look stupid without them? ‘In my bag,’ I answer. ‘I sometimes switch between lenses and glasses. Why?’

Professor Marshall shrugs. ‘Just wondering. See you at four. Sharp.’

✎ ✎ ✎

I knock on professor Marshall’s office door at four sharp (I mean, he felt the need to emphasis it, so I should be on time, right?) and he says: ‘Come in.’ I open the door, to see him sitting behind his desk.

‘Is that… a chair?’ I ask, pointing to the pretty comfortable looking chair on the my side of the desk.

Professor Marshall nods. ‘I didn’t want you to stand,’ he says. ‘Don’t get used to it though. I plan on removing this thing as soon as you leave.’ He smirks. ‘It gives me the creeps. I usually don’t like people hanging around in my office. Whether that is at NYU or the MPD.’

I take a seat and blink my eyes a few times. Gosh, I don’t think I have ever wore my lenses this long and they start to hurt a bit. Just keep them in for a few more moments. Be subtle. ‘My question is about the literature.’

Professor Marshall tilts his head. ‘Are you okay, miss— Penny?’

Apparently I’m not at all subtle. ‘Just my lenses, that’s it.’

‘You can take them out. Please, go ahead.’

Thankfully I brought my stuff with me and I grab my bag, searching for my glasses and lenses case. ‘The literature that is required for the assignment… There isn’t a list provided by you and I have a hard time finding some.’ I remove one of my lenses and continue to take out the other. Gosh, the relief. I put the glasses on and place both cases in the backpack.

‘I can email you a list of literature you can use,’ he says. ‘Why is it giving you difficulties?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, professor.’

‘Walter,’ he says.

Huh? ‘Excuse me, what?’

‘It’s after school,’ he continues, ‘so you can quit with calling me professor and start calling me Walter, okay?’

Walter. Seems so personal, so intimate. Not complaining at all, if I’m being honest. I nod. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

‘Why did you choose psychology, Penny?’ he asks.

That’s a deep question. It’s almost like a first date (if I have to believe the movies, because yours truly never went on a date in her life). Why does he even care? ‘My parents thought it was important I went to university. They wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, but I’m not that intellectually gifted. Besides, psychology might give me more of an idea of who I am or what I am. I traveled after high school, hoping to figure out who I am, but so far, no luck.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘And you think criminology is gonna help you with that?’

I chuckle. ‘No, it’s not. Originally, I wanted to go for the child psychology course, to see if I could understand myself better through that, but I missed the enrolling date. It was either criminology or animal behavior.’

‘Animal behavior? That’s a course?’

‘Mhm.’

He nods. ‘Well, you’re really good in criminology,’ he says. ‘We could’ve used you in the force.’

I run my fingers through my hair and smile nervously. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You noticed the droopy eyelid. Took detectives long enough before they realized that.’

‘Lucky guess.’

Professor Marshall leans back in his seat. ‘You’ve got to stop undermining yourself,’ he notes. ‘You are sharp, notice the details. You have a lot of potential, in this field or any other. I think you just don’t know it yet.’

My cheeks heat up. Is he saying what I think he is saying? ‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Really,’ he confirms. The professor keeps looking at me, but weirdly enough I don’t feel uncomfortable. ‘Tell me something what you want to find out about yourself.’

I clear my throat. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Tell me something about yourself then,’ he says. ‘Something that’s a foundation for who you are.’

I bite my lip and try to think of something. What is a foundation of who I am? ‘Well,’ I say, after contemplating for a moment or two, ‘I was adopted after I was left at a Catholic church doorstep when I was few hours old. I was brought to a hospital, where they found out I was a premature baby with heroin in my blood. They never discovered who my parents were.’

‘Oh, Penny,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He is sorry for me? I bite my lip, before I say: ‘My adoptive parents are sweet, they really are, but I’m scared sometimes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, because if I’m that unloveable at a few hours old, I bet I’ll become that later on, you know? Especially when they will find out that I might not even work in this field, because it’s not where my heart is.’

He places his underarms on his desk, folding his hands together. ‘You’re not unloveable,’ he says in a soft tone, ‘you could never be.’

I smile. ‘We’ll just have to see about that.’

The professor squints his eyes for a few seconds, almost as if he is trying to figure me out without asking anymore questions. ‘Tell me, what field has your heart?’

‘Cosmetology school,’ I say. ‘I know, a huge downgrade from this, but… I love stuff like that.’

He is smiling at me. ‘It’s not a downgrade,’ he says, his town a bit lower than before. ‘I bet you would be great at it.’

I clear my throat, a bit taken aback by the impromptu therapy session. ‘Thank you, Walter, for answering my questions. I feel like I’m bombarding you with questions to a point where it gets annoying.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it, you could never annoy me.’ He grabs a piece of paper and writes something down on it, as I stand up. ‘Here.’

‘What’s that?’

‘My number. If you have another question or anything else, you can always text or call me.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Of course I have another question. Is it inappropriate to ask this much time and attention of your professor? I almost think it is, but I really want to understand the assignment and my other teachers aren’t as nice as Walter.

While I wish I wasn’t doing this entire major, I do want to prove myself, especially in my criminology class. I don’t want to let him down.

Oh my, have I taken an interest in my professor? That would be improper behavior, right? Isn’t this totally illegal?

Well, my feelings aren’t and he does not feel the same way, so nothing will happen anyway. No need to think about the illegality of the situation when it’ll never get that far.

I grab my phone nonetheless and the piece of paper and add him to my contacts as Walter. I check his profile picture. It’s a slightly blurry photo of Walter sitting in a police car, but even through the blurry pixels, I can still recognize him. The same type of sweater. The messy curls, the beard and the deep frown between his thick brows.

Me: Professor Marshall, can I ask you something?

Me: This is Penny btw

Walter: What did I tell you, Penny?

Me: Oh, I’m sorry

Me: Walter

Walter: Atta girl

My eyes widen as I read his text, while my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh,’ I whisper to myself. This is making me slightly giddy. What is happening here?

Walter: What’s your question?

Me: I’m still having troubles with the literature

Me: You know what? I’m sorry, I am totally asking to much of your time and I shouldn’t do that.

Me: Forget it, I’m sorry

Walter: No, no, no, Penny, it’s alright.

Walter: I gave you my number, remember?

Me: Right…

Walter: The literature is your only question?

Me: Yes

Me: It’s just a lot and I don’t know which piece of literature is applicable to my case

Walter: You had case four, right?

Me: Yes

Walter: I’ll send you a list of the literature you can use

Me: You sure it’s not too much?

Walter: I’m sure

✎ ✎ ✎

During my counseling skills class I am in the back of the lecture hall and heavily distracted. This professor is incredibly boring and really enjoys hearing himself talk. However, I’m occupied enough. Since there is no on behind or next to me, I open another tab on my laptop, to see I have yet another message from Walter.

Yes, I said Walter. I’m not in class, so it’s not professor Marshall.

Walter: Still in class?

Me: Yes, still am.

Me: What are you doing?

Walter: Consulting on a case for the NYP

Me: Do you miss working for the police force?

Walter: I do

Me: Why aren’t you working for the police now?

Walter: I’m suspended

Me: Do I want to know what you did?

Walter: I may or may not have yelled at some guy, thrown around some chairs during interrogation.

Walter: Thanks to me we solved the case though

Me: Remind me to always be on your good side 😅 😅

Walter: You are, Penny

Walter: Don’t you worry 😉

Me: Do you enjoy being a teacher?

Walter: No, not in the slightest

Walter: How are your assignments holding up?

Me: It’s going okay… It’s just a lot.

Walter: I bet

Me: It kinda feels like I’m drowning

Me: Already

Walter: You need help?

Me: I can’t ask that of you

Walter: You didn’t ask, I offered.

Me: Okay detective 🙄

Walter: Did you just roll your eyes at me?

Me: No, sir, I didn’t 🙈

Walter: I can help you out, I promise

Me: Where?

Walter: My loft?

Me: Your loft?

Walter: Yes, I can pick you up from somewhere

Me: You have crime scene pictures around your place?

Walter: I’ll have them gone by the time you get there

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #asian ofc #penny townsend #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #but professor

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foodieforthoughts · 4 years

Text

Show Me the Light

Summary: She recently moved to Minneapolis and is a newly appointed sports teacher at Southern Cross High School, wanting to live life away from the big city of New York. On the first week of her arrival she (almost) crashes into Detective Walter Marshall which leads to his and her life being intertwined there on. It is not your regular meet-cute story but rather a tug of war between two people from opposite spectrum of life.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Myra King)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: A slight description of a possible accident, smut in the future chapters.

A/N: Hello! After watching "Nomis" for the second time, I really started to feel the urge to write about our grumpy Detective Walter Marshall. I don't want to make it all angst, so bear with me if the OFC seems too cherry to be in the movie. Also, I do not want to face tag her, so let your imagination run free.

**Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist**

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Title: Show Me the Light

Walter slammed the manilla folder on his desk, exasperated with the dead ends to the present case at hand. He stretched his arms in front of him, feeling his neck become stiff with the cold and his goddam posture was killing him.

"Dad?" Faye peaked in, draped in a shawl with her toothbrush in her hand.

"Are you going to bed now?" Walter's voice came out sterner than he intended to.

"No, I'm getting ready to go to school." She pointed towards the window in his office. Faint light of the rising sun was casting a glow from behind the curtains. "Did you stay awake the whole night?" She innocently asked.

Walter rubbed his eyes. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed since he had grabbed the case file last night. He had become so invested in it, he had completely missed bedtime. 'Not that sleep is important anyway.' He grunted, feeling the sore muscles in his back stretch as he stood up.

"I can call mom to drop me to school." His daughter offered. Her small frame looked tiny enveloped in her grey shawl, her nose pink with the cold.

"No, I'll just get some coffee. Have to go to the station anyway." Walter grunted again as he stretched his neck, rubbing a tender spot. "Go get ready."

He watched as his daughter retreated with a concerned look. Walter loved having his daughter around but it was mostly because he could keep one of his concerns at bay by keeping an eye on her. Grabbing his gun from the drawer and his badge lying on top of his table, he made his way downstairs to fix himself some strong coffee. He could feel the tiredness lingering in his muscles, but he had a job to get done. When he took the pledge to serve the public, he wholeheartedly meant it.

"So we got a new sports teacher." Faye pulled on her seat belt and buckled it over her body.

"What happened to the previous one?" Walter started the engine of his truck, the hunk of metal humming and warming in the cold. He let it run for a couple of seconds, rubbing his hands together as it touched the cold steering wheel.

"I don't know. He got old?" Faye chuckled.

Walter spared a smile. His daughter, the light of his life, made it a little less harder to live in this cruel world. They pulled out on the street and made their way towards the school.

It had snowed heavily last night. The sun shone brightly on the white landscape, making the snow twinkle like crystal. It was already peak office hour and thankfully Faye's school was not deep inside the city. Walter took out his sunglasses from his glove compartment, as the glint of the sun on the snow and the car windows were making his head hurt.

"Um... Dad? Is that coming our way?"

Walter looked up, squinting at the road as Faye pointed out in front of her. A black figure on a bike, the sound of its exhaust rumbling through the street and the metal parts shining in the sun, was making it's way towards them. The speed at which they were travelling and the slight tilting of its wheels from side to side hinted that the rider was losing it's balance.

"Oh, fuck!" Walter gripped his steering wheel tightly as the bike zoomed past his truck, barely missing the edge of the hood, and skidded along the slippery road to crash against the mount of ice gathered on the side. His truck made a grumble, the tires screeching as it tried to get a grip on the asphalt, coming to a jolting halt.

"Dad!" Faye had gripped her seat belt bracing for impact. "Oh my God! Are they alright?" She turned to look behind, watching the rider on the ground a few feet away from the bike.

"Are you okay?" Walter looked at his daughter. A whiplash injury was the last thing he wanted his daughter to suffer from. When Faye hurriedly nodded at him, his anger grew as he growled and opened his door to jump out and catch a hold of the irresponsible person who nearly crashed into him.

***

She was running late. Her second day on her job and she was freaking late.

Myra had hopped on her bike, chugging the last of her veggie smoothie and placing the bottle on the side pocket of her bag. Her brilliant black Benelli 900 SEI had looked stunning as always. She had dusted the few sprinkles of snow laying on it's tank, before kissing the cold metal handle bars.

"Don't disappoint me today, okay? You have been good so far." She had smiled at her bike dearly, remembering she still had to get it checked by a professional because of all the transportation it had had to go through. The sweet sound of its powerful engine coming to life, the exhaust emitting a rumble as she had revved it up a little, had made her heart swell.

Everything was working out fine. The city roads had been bustling with cars, but she had zoomed past them. Even though her bike belonged from the 70s, it still worked like a fine piece of metal. She had worn her faithful leather jacket, her biking gloves sat snuggly against her skin providing warmth in the cold weather.

Somewhere around the suburban part of the city, nearer to the school she worked at, her bike started to give off a clicking sound. Myra pressed on the breaks, feeling her speed coming down a little and her tires beginning to wobble on the road.

"Oh, fuck. No, no... " She prayed as the braking system seemed to be giving up on her. Her accelerometer showing her speed still above 20 mph. She was already crossing the speed limit inside the suburban region and was unable to do anything about it.

Her eyes widened as she spotted a big truck coming her way. She pressed down hard on the breaks, but she knew a crash was imminent now. Her eyes scanned about trying to look for an escape bay, spotting a heap of snow on the side of the road.

"Oh, God!" She turned her handle abruptly, missing the oncoming vehicle by mere inches, and let go of her bike as it skidded along the road and crashed on the snow. She slipped on the gravel for a couple of feet, trying to hold onto something to stop herself but failing miserably.

Myra groaned as she came to a halt, her head bumping against the road but saved by the helmet. Her heart raced like it was going to come out of her chest. Her feet and hands had gotten cold from the fear of crashing into the car, her breathing coming out ragged. She blinked several times, looking up at the sky through her black tinted glass hood of her helmet, swallowing the dryness in her throat.

"Hey!" Myra felt herself being yanked up by the collar of her jacket and came face to face with an angry, curly haired man. His eyebrows were scrunched together tightly and his lips, under the bush of his beard, was upturned in a sneer. "What the fuck just happened there?"

The zipper of her jacket dug at her throat, her feet dangling from the ground. The man was huge and powerful to have lifted her body up like she was nothing but a ragged doll. Myra placed her hands on his, trying to choke out a word. The insulated cover of her helmet and the air getting blocked from her throat was making her difficult to form words.

"W-wait... " She tried to speak but felt her lungs were straining for oxygen. The sound of the police siren made the burly man finally let go of her. She dropped to the ground on her knees, gasping for air and pulling her helmet off. She coughed as she leaned on the ground, placing her hands on the road breathing in through her mouth.

"Miss King?"

Myra looked up at the tiny voice of a girl coming from behind her. She recognized the girl from her class yesterday. Myra had helped her correct her posture while aiming for the goal when they had played soccer.

"You know her?"

The bearded man from before who had held her by the collar asked angrily. Myra looked over at him, his arms crossed over his chest, straining the fabric of his sweater over his muscles. She looked down at his waist and noticed the police badge clipped on his belt, his gun cocked in it's holster. She sat back on her knees, looking from one person to another.

"Yes! She's our new sports teacher."

Myra felt her cheeks heat as the grumpy man and the two police officers that had arrived later, looked down at her. Her gaze fell on her bike some few feet away, the hazy grey colour of smoke emiting from it, contrasting against the white sheet of snow.

"Take her to the station. Keep her there until I come back." He grumbled to the other two officers, throwing her a look of disgust and walking away with the girl behind her.

"Come on, Miss. Inside the car."

With a grunt from her aching muscles and joints, Myra stood up clutching her helmet in her hand and followed the men as they lead her to the police cruiser.

'Bloody fucking great!' She silently mumbled to herself as she sat on the backseat of the cruiser and watched the black truck she was going to crash into, drive away.

Tags: @wanderlustkitkat @michelehansel @stephartrave @yuhsophie @hennerslionhat @henrythickcavill @eldarwen333 @peakygroupie @klaine-92 @thelastsock @indigosaurus @oddsnendsfanfics @viking-raider @cavillliketravel @geralt-of-baevia @achaoticaugust @dancingwendigo @littlefreya @luclittlepond @mansaaay @agniavateira @inlovewithhisblueeyes @henryobsessed @henryfanfics101 @poucinette1333 @ohmygoodie @oolicity @luclittlepond @momowhoo @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @asyverson @singeramg @supersweetstache @demivampirew @cavills-cavalry @raspberrydreamclouds @ramblings-of-a-cavill-lover @fuckoffbard @filmforb @thiccgeralt @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @iloveyouyen @inthenameofcavill @madbaddic7ed @b-j-d @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @henchry @feralrunaway @ohjules

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fanfic #Show me the light series

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ohayohimawari · 4 years

Text

30 Minutes to gift!! KAGUMO EDITION

I had too much fun creating a 30-minute-gift for an exchange in @sloaners server! Here is my giftee’s prompt list:

List three colors: purple, blue, pink List two household or outer space items: desk, mug List/Link one favorite mood song: Rocket Man (cover) by Ninja Sex Party How about a favorite AU??? (‘Canon’ is also acceptable): im a normie,i genuinely love the coffee shop AU or anything wholesome Why you love/hate Zetsu in 5 words or less: how people see weed dealers A favorite character or two outside of KAGUMO: obito

The overall theme is: KAGUMO! The Moon Mom content we all adore

I hope you enjoy!

Obito set his messenger bag down on his desk and double-checked the contents to confirm that he had everything he needed. His passion for political science led him to volunteer to be a pollster, and today was the first day of his new extracurricular gig. He noticed a mug that he’d left there the night before and carried it to his kitchen sink with the intention of washing it, when he checked the clock and realized he had enough time to treat himself to coffee from a shop rather than brew it.

He stepped out into the first autumn chill and decided that he’d indulge in a hot white mocha pumpkin spice latte-his favorite fall drink, even if most didn’t understand why.

He breezed past the resident oddball that lurked around the corner from his neighborhood. Whether it was the shock of green hair on his head or the fact that half of his face was darkened by the shadows he kept to, he’d earned a reputation for being any number of unfortunate things, the best of which being a dealer. “Hey kid,” he rasped out, but Obito ignored him and quickened his pace.

Pumpkin spice madness had taken hold of more than himself that morning, and the crowded coffee shop proved it. Obito studied the people around him as he waited for his turn to order, and his gaze was drawn to a man that would stand out in any crowd, anywhere.

The man’s most prominent feature was his wild mane of silver hair, which was barely contained in a ponytail. Obito studied his face and thought the man appeared younger than his hair would lead one to believe, though he did notice lines around the man’s eyes that seemed to be caused by decades of laughter. Even now, amusement was plain on the man’s face, almost as if it was permanently fixed upon it.

However, that wasn’t what drew Obito’s attention to him.

The man wore an impossible combination of blue, purple, and pink shimmering attire. He wondered if the man couldn’t wait for Halloween, or if he was on his way to a very early costume party. Either way, Obito had never seen that many sequins all at once in his life.

Obito couldn’t tear his eyes from the man, not even after he was caught staring at him. He had to know what made this man tick and decided that he’d found his first subject for his political survey.

The sparkling man eagerly agreed to participate, and once Obito heard his name mispronounced loudly as the signal that his coffee was ready, they sat together at a table.

“Okay,” Obito began as he turned on his tablet, “these questions pertain to the upcoming primary election, and I thank you for your participation, Sir.”

“Call me Sakumo.”

“Uh, well, the survey is supposed to be anonymous.”

“Okay, then don’t,” Sakumo smiled.

Obito swallowed a snicker and asked the first question. “Are you registered to vote at the current address you reside at?”

“You betcha, that was one of the first things I did when I returned.”

Obito checked off the box that fit Sakumo’s answer and moved on to the next question. “How likely are you to vote in the upcoming elections?”

“Nothing will keep me from the polls,” Sakumo winked.

“Who did you vote for in the last election?” Obito continued, gaining confidence that he presented himself as an experienced pollster.

“Mondale.”

“M-Mondale? Walter Mondale, from the 1984 election?” Obito stuttered his surprise.

“I’ve been away for a while.”

“I see, well, welcome back,” Obito tried to pick up his jaw and his professionalism at the same time and carried on to the next question. “What do you look for in a candidate?”

“Their dedication to the space program,” was Sakumo’s prompt reply.

“Oh, you have a particular fascination with the universe?” Obito strayed from his script out of curiosity before he could stop himself.

“I miss my wife.”

Obito blinked while he processed Sakumo’s answer. “Okay, well, um, moving on,” he checked off ‘other’ as the answer that best fit on his survey. “How important is the issue of school funding to you?”

“Very important,” Sakumo nodded his earnestness, “I’m relying on the fact that schools here will help me to convince Kagu—oh, right, anonymous, I mean, my wife to bring our son here.”

“That’s an understandable reason,” Obito selected the appropriate answer from the list.

“I mean, Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids,” Sakumo elaborated.

Obito’s gaze shot up from his tablet and focused on Sakumo. “Mars,” he repeated, incredulous.

“It’s cold as hell.”

“I-I can imagine it would be.” Obito scanned the list of questions for the most harmless that remained so he could end their interview quickly, but politely. When his screen only offered options on sensitive subjects like national security, he decided to make one up. “I just have one final question, Sir,” he said as his mind raced through mundane topics that he considered safe, “what is your…occupation?”

Sakumo eyed him, and his smile suddenly turned serious. He assessed Obito a moment before asking, “This is anonymous?”

Obito nodded, already regretting his question.

Sakumo leaned across the table to answer in a hushed voice. “Ninja.”

Obito couldn’t hide his surprise if he tried and so he didn’t. He gaped at Sakumo as the other man stood up from the table and laughed at him. “What did you think I was, an accountant?”

“I admit, that wasn’t an answer I expected,” Obito tried to recover his composure and reached for his latte with one hand while he discreetly deleted the survey with the other. He silently wondered if the suspicious man with green hair was still lurking nearby, and if that survey would be any easier.

Sakumo laughed again and threw his empty coffee cup in the recycling bin. “I’m not the man they think I am at home,” he said as he gestured finger guns at Obito and exited the coffee shop.

#kagumo #sakumo #sakumo hatake #Obito #obito uchiha #kaguya otsutsuki #30 minute gift challenge #hima writes

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borkha · 3 years

Text

KiDs HeAdCaNoNs

Six/Verónica

-She eats, and eats a lot.

-She hates Hunter because he kidnaped her, plus Ferryman doesn't helps

-She has ✨F a n g s✨

-She wond hesitate to throw the first thing she haves at hand to anyone.

-Ferryman's charge

-She is 8

Mono/Adam Jr.

-okay but his dad let him dye his hair, no one noticed until RK taked his bag off to give him a candy. His hair is blue 💖

-He has white hair, that's why he dyed it :(

-He has bad lungs, genetic, thanks dad.

-He doesnt gets mad easy, but he Will tell you, dead-looking "If you keep bothering me, i'll use your veins as shoelaces"

-Sleepy boi

-He's 14

Runaway Kid/Shaggy

-Bracket kid :(

-He sometimes needs to wear a hand holder (idk if i explain, he can't move his left hand too much so he needs to keep it without moving)

-He cannot walk straingth (because he's not straight- oh my god Rowan shut the fuck up.)

-His veins hurt all the time

-Roger charge

-10 years old <3

FlashLight girl/Nancy

-Anxiety tics ;;;;;;

-Everytime someone raises his hand in front of her, she runs off, thinks they are going to hit her.

-She is at Roger's charge too! :D

-9 years

The Pretender/Lilith

-Autistic huh

-Porcelain girl! She is fragile, take care of her :(

-She feels so alone, and she doesn't wants to ask Butler or Craftman to play because she thinks they're too old to play with her

-She likes to play with Annie's hair

-She has a lot of plushes! She does s Fortress(? With them and hides!

-She always asks Evan to use his Ushanka, comfy 💕

-At Hunter's care

-6 years!! Baby nwn

Raincoat Girl/Annie

-Um, ShuShs people a lot?

-dark eyebags, please someone sing her to sleep

-She hides, a lot.

-okay but her kidneys hurt

-She forgets to wash her teeth

-Lady's charge

-11 yeeeears

Ushanka Kid/Evan

-Okay he helps everybody

-cracks his bones a lot

-He likes to sleep in Doc's tummy, or in general anyone who has a tummy

-Ew, water

-Have's a DS too -w-

-haves a lot of paintings and mirrors

-At everyone's charge! But probably more with Mirror Man, he is a really good dad

-9 years

The Maw kids

-The Green kid is called Paul, Refuged kid is Otis, Long hair Girl is Aussie, Humpback girl is Sasha, and Bandaged kid it's just, Worm

-Paul is the leader, but he doesnt control anyone, just- he just is the leader.

-Aussie is really scared of the dark

-Sasha likes to sing, and she does it beautiful!

-Otis cries a lot, he justs wants his sister back

-Worm has an army of rats

-At Ferryman's charge

-Worm is 13, Otis is 10, Paul 9, Sasha 11 and Aussie 8

Lollipop Boy/Billy

-He broke Penny's nose with the lollipop, it was an accident :(

-Nobody knows why he cries

-The Bully girl(? He killed with the bike, it was his sister

-Diabetic probably

-At Teacher's charge, but he's scared of her :(

-He's 12

Spoon Girl/Penny

-Help's Doc to heal everyone

-It's Baker's daughter, but he doesn't want her

-always tired

-Has a pink unicorn plush, it's called prince! And she shows it proudly- oh also, when she's healing people, she gives them her plush to calm them ow.

-Everybody loves her freckles

-At Doc's charge

-9 years <3

Toddler/Toad

-has a lot of pets <'3

-Asks brother (Hunter) to give his coat, he looks adorable!

-He barccs, he ataccs, but most importantly, he snaccs

-Lil danci-dances

-At Hunter's charge

-4 uwu

Ghost kid/ Ron

-Okay he looks like someone beat the fuck out of him

-uses glasses, nice

-He can, and will snap your neck.

-he writes the market list on his arm, nice nice

-always laughs of others misfortunes

-At charge of the Cheffs

-14 years mhm

Black kid/Johan

-Okay hella scared of fire

-Friend with Ghost, they're besties

-Also friend with the nomes and bullies

-he just wants peace

-He will be agressive with anyone who damage any child, it doesnt matter if they're Friends or not.

-He knows how to do music with a banjo, but he preffers to hit people with it

-At Thin Man charge, he treats him nice

-15 years

Swollen kids/Anthony and Malcom

-Twins!!

-They're scared of Lady

-They hate water

-They're always smiling!

-Theyre friends with Lilith and Annie

-Lady choked them to death

-At Lady's charge :(

-8 years, ow

Kidnaped kids

-The girl of the skirt is Stacy, the Boy of the Payamas is Walter, the Boy of the long(? Hair is Edward, the girl of the dress(? Is Daisy, and the last boy is Candres

-Stacy is always mad, and Will punch anyone who gets closer to her

-Walter is the protective big bro, and its Friend with Wax Bellman

-Edward it's just sick, but he's too scared of Penny and Doc to ask for medicine, or its scared that the medicine kills him?

-Daisy is Penny's sister, but non of them knows it, just- they look-a-like

-Candres it's like Stacy, but he will bite u

Okay i think they're all, any questions?

#little nightmares

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sif-the-tsunami · 4 years

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The Caffeine Cleric’s shenanigans

Look, I have 100% been wrong before on someone’s coffee order. But, my favorite game to play at work is guess the person in line’s order. These are the drinks I think HC character’s would order. This is meant to be silly. And this is only the characters I’ve seen. I know that Cold Light of Day is on youtube, but your girl needs to have more time on her hands to watch it.

August Walker:

That dude has a pour over system at his home, he only grinds his beans the morning he makes it, they are sealed in an airtight container. He drinks it black. If they go out, he’ll order a nonfat cappuccino.

Captain Syverson

In the field, they will get little packets of dehydrated coffee crystals. They fucking suck. He drinks them though because if you have any idea what MRE’s do to your gut, you need all the help you can get. When he came home from deployment, his girlfriend got him hooked on iced coffee. Now that they’ve split he started drinking cold brewed iced coffee, with a dairy alternative. No one on the fort is stupid enough to give Syverson grief about ordering coconut milk. One of the baristas taught him how to make it himself, so he now has a set up in his fridge. He will let it sit in his fridge for 48 hours before he removes the coffee grounds. He will also drink it without cutting it. If he has too much he feels like he can hear colors, but that just might be the tinnitus in his ears.

The girls that work at the coffee house all want him. The barista that brags about banging definitely hasn’t though. In fact, she kind of scares him.

Napoleon Solo

This man orders an espresso con panna, upside down, blonde espresso, with a little caramel drizzle and there is nothing you can do to convince me otherwise.

oh Mike... Mikey McMike Mike...

This fuckboi orders a Mocha Frappuccino, extra caramel drizzle, two extra shots. He doesn’t tip. He also wonders if the barista with hot pink hair also has hot pink hair down stairs.

Walter Marshall

When he’s not drinking the swill they serve at the precinct, he likes a double tall latte, with almond milk. One raw sugar and nutmeg steamed in the milk.

On his birthday, though, one year the girl behind the counter convinced him to order a steamed apple juice with two bags of chai tea brewed in it for six minutes. She put in two packets of honey and a little vanilla powder. He now orders this when ever he has had a bad day.

Geralt of Rivia

The fuck is a latte?

Jokes aside, I have a drink I make whenever I want to sit down with a warm beverage and play The Witcher 3, it is a tall blonde flat white, with one pump of vanilla, cinnamon and nutmeg steamed in with the milk.

Clark Kent

He drinks his coffee back, but Lois has brought him a double chocolatey chip Frappuccino before. He’ll drink it with the metal straw that Aquaman bought him. #savetheseaturtles

Charles Brandon

Historically speaking, they didn’t have coffee or even hot chocolate in Europe until the end the Elizabethan Era. I haven’t watched the show enough to give him a proper assessment otherwise.

Thomas

This sweet little cinnamon bun orders a salter caramel hot chocolate. The girl at the shop flirts with the boy but he only has eyes for the girl WHO KEEPS HURTING HIM!!!! This poor puppy, I want to love on him and keep him safe forever, never letting anyone hurt him.

#henry cavill fanfic #head canon #henry cavill #drabble

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rinadoesstuff · 3 years

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Secret Soldiers

Chapter Fourteen

Georgia, Camp Toccoa, 1942

The next morning, Maggie woke up with an unusual smile on her face. The night before had been different but a good different. Though she wasn’t planning on falling asleep with her shoulder resting on George Luz’s shoulder, she was glad she had. The moment had shown her that she could trust the men, they’d allowed her to sleep even though she had been vulnerable in that moment. Although she hadn’t expected them to do anything untoward, they hadn’t seemed like the type, the thought was always in the back of her mind when it came to all men.

Letting out a yawn, Maggie checked the time on her watch that was still sitting on her wrist and realised she still had almost an hour before breakfast that morning. The sun was slowly rising, some light peeking through her window into the small bunker she lived in. Deciding now would be a good time to grab her mail, Maggie quickly changed into her OD’s and made her way toward the mailroom.

As she had thought, Maggie didn’t pass anyone on the way over - most of the men would still be asleep, getting as much in as they possibly could. She didn’t know how long they had been up the night before but they had all been playing poker still when Maggie had woken up. Although she offered to walk back over alone, George had insisted he make sure she got back safe.

Wanting to build that bond up even more with the men, Maggie allowed him to walk her over. It had been a nice feeling, not any hostility between the two as they walked to her small ‘home’. She was hoping that the men would be kinder to her, let her join in with their laughs a little more.

Entering the mail room, she had a quick conversation with Rice before he went to grab her mail. She had two letters, one with the SOE seal imprinted on the back and one she recognised as Camilla’s handwriting. Bidding Rice goodbye, Maggie left the mailroom and tucked her letters into her pocket. She wasn’t usually one for a cigarette but Maggie took one from her pocket, stuck it between her lips and lit it.

The nicotine rush was one she needed, still feeling the tiredness from the night before. As she took a drag, she noticed a group of soldiers coming her way. Standing off to the side so she wasn’t in the way, Maggie tried to work out if she knew them. The faces weren’t familiar, they could have been from one of the companies she hadn’t had the chance to meet yet.

As some of the men went into the mailroom, one of them came over toward Maggie with a small smile on her face. “Bum a cigarette, Lieutenant?” Maggie gave the man a look, raising an eyebrow as she grabbed her pack and tossed it at him.

“Do I need to give you a light as well, private?” She wore a lazy smile as she took another drag, the soldier laughing gently as he leant against the wall beside Maggie. He grabbed his own lighter, showing it to Maggie with a grin before lighting his cigarette. There was a silence before Maggie spoke. “Which company are you with, Private?”

She turned her head gently to look at the man, significantly taller than she was. “Dog company, ma’am. You’re with Easy, right?” Maggie nodded, taking a final drag of her cigarette before dropping it into the ‘butts’ bin beside her.

“I best be off, have a good day,private.” The man gave a lazy salute, making Maggie smile gently. Even though the man had no idea who she was, he hadn’t seen her as just a woman. He had treated her as an officer and even a friend, giving Maggie the smile that she now wore as she headed back toward her bunker. She had a bit more time before breakfast, giving her the chance to read the letters that had been sent to her.

Settling down on her bed, Maggie opened the one from the SOE to begin with.

Agent Walters,

With intel received, we are pleased with the progress you have been making with the US airborne. We have received some more intelligence about the plan of attack for the US airborne however you do not have the clearance for us to tell you. All we can tell you is that there will be another operative in the future, when a move of base is pushed ahead. There is not a lot we can tell you except we wish you luck and hope the two of you will work together before joining this war alongside the US troops.

GodSpeed, Agent.

Agent Frost, SOE.

Dresden, November 1942

The snow from the previous day wrapped the city of Dresden in a beautiful white one could only describe as almost magically but the blonde woman had something different on her mind. Looking down at the watch on her wrist, Claire let out a yawn before hiding her bare hand again in the warmth of the pockets of her coat. “I definitely have to sleep more.”

“You have absolutely no reason to complain, Clara.” Despite his own obvious lack of sleep, Hans was quick to respond. Leaning against the brick wall, the man let out a groan as he closed his eyes. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through my classes without falling asleep.”

“Well,” Claire started as she pulled her blue scarf further up into her face. “Maybe you should take a break from going out so often at god forbidden hours.”

“Yeah, just wait until you see what we did. It was worth it.” With a proud smirk on his face Hans rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get some warmth. “You’ll like it.”

Just humming in response, Claire shifted her gaze up towards the window on the third floor of the building they stood in front of. She freshly falling snowflakes made her task of making out movements on the other side of the window quite a bit harder but nevertheless a quickly moving shadows caught her attention. “Does Ilse know? You know, what happened a few nights ago?”

“Yeah I stopped by last night and spoke with her about it. She thinks it’s pretty amazing but don’t worry, she swore not to tell anyone.”

Nodding, Claire turned back to Hans with an unsure smile on her lips. “Alright, uhm, thanks for still trusting me. It means a lot.”

“Considering that you kind of held a gun pointed at me, I took the best chance by avoiding making you mad.” They both knew that it wasn’t meant to be serious but Claire couldn’t help herself and as a response she smacked Hans against his shoulder. The man only chuckled as he playfully rubbed his arm. “Oh you know that I love you too much not to trust you.”

Hearing this, a big smile formed on Claire’s lips. It was by no means the first time that she heard this from him and usually she knew that it didn’t mean much but weirdly enough this time it felt like more. She was about to respond but a door falling into its lock behind them caught both of their attention.

“Sorry that I’m late. My alarm didn’t go off.” Ilse had a hint of pink on her cheeks as she hurriedly closed her jacket. After a quick exchange of glances the brunette woman pulled her bag a little closer to her body. “Did I interrupt anything?”

When no response came from neither Claire nor Hans, Ilse just nodded in a dismissive manner and interlocked her arm with Claire’s just like they always did. It felt so normal to them by now that just like usually they started walking and chatting away, leaving Hans to follow them looking almost like a lost puppy.

Due to their lateness today, Claire expected the promenade leading up to the university buildings to be rather empty but the closer they got, the more they had problems passing the groups of students.

Claire reached behind herself and grabbed Hans’ hand out of fear of losing him in the mass as Ilse also tightened her grip. Not being able to see enough, the blonde woman stood on her tiptoes. After her eyes scanned the walls of the entrance her gaze fixated on the formerly well visible swastika on the right side of the wooden entrance doors. Half of it was broken out of the stone and it has been over painted in a thick black while a certain word was written right next to it.

Letting out a gasp, Claire quickly got down on the heels of her shoes again. Looking at Ilse and her desperate tries to see past the crowd all while having a curious look on her face, Claire was quick to realise that Ilse had nothing to do with this.

The brunette gave up after a few more tries to see something and instead looked at Claire expectantly. “Vive la révolution?” After not receiving an answer Ilse turned to Hans who wore a proud smirk on his lips “Are we starting one?”

Hand just pulled the two women closer to him as he leaned down so only they could hear his voice. “What do you say, Veritas? Are we starting one?”

With a mischievous grin, Claire turned from Ilse to Hans. “We are starting one.”

With a sudden burst of pride flowing through her, Claire squeezed Hans’ hand as she turned back to the large letters painted on the wall.

Veritas

It was her name.

Now the Nazis know who they are up against.

• • • • • •

Taglist:

@wexhappyxfew @pierrespandas @trashgoddess600 @junojelli @kmorecoffee @vintagelavenderskies @order-of-river-phoenix @adamantiumdragonfly @happyveday @alrightnicelighter @easy-company-tradition @keoghans @ultralillylove @pxpeyewynn @pinkesfaultier @madstertb

#band of brothers #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fanfic #fanfiction #historical fanfiction #Alternate History #secret soldiers #claire #claire harding #maggie #maggie walters #hans müller #Ilse Berger #Easy Company

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atths--twice · 4 years

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AND HERE WE GO!!! It’s Wedding Day!!! Are you excited? I sure hope so...

I hope you all enjoy this story. I have searched, planned, and loved every second of getting prepared for this day. The dresses, suits, rings, music, all of it has been lovingly searched for, trying to find the perfect item for each person in the story.

May I suggest to anyone who is able to do so, and who wants to do it, to look up, Rudolf Baumgartner- Pachelbel's Greatest Hit: Canon in D, when the time comes. 💕 It will add to the experience I believe. ❤️

Marry Me

Chapter One

Wedding Day

Today is the day Mulder and Scully will become joined by law, as well as by heart. Love doesn’t recognize time, only hearts ready to join together.

12a/15

Scully hung up her dress in the small room she had been directed to use inside of the church. A portable crib had been set up, which she was glad for, as she might need to corral Faith in it as she got ready.

“I can take her, Scully,” Mulder said, as he hung up Faith’s dress and set down the backpack. Her headband, tights, and shoes, together in a separate bag, were set on the table.

“No, no. Us ladies need to get ready together, isn’t that right, my sweet?” she asked, as she kissed Faith’s hands before Mulder handed her over.

“I won’t take long to get ready, and Skinner will be here soon; he can help me out if I need it,” he said, giving her a look. “I don’t want you to feel rushed or anything.”

“We have an hour, Mulder. We told Skinner 3 o’clock and the wedding is at 4; that’s plenty of time. I don’t want her dressed until as close to 4 as we can get. You remember Saint Patrick’s Day,” she said with a look, and he shuddered.

Faith had worn a new green dress that day, and just before they had arrived at the local parade, a massive dirty diaper had ruined the dress, dirtied the car seat, and forced them to drive home with the windows down.

“Yeah, I remember that day. Okay, well, call me and I’ll get her, or have Skinner come over. Take your time, my ladies.” He kissed Faith and then looked at Scully. “See you out there.” He smiled and she shook her head with a smile of her own.

“See you out there,” she replied, kissing him before he left the room and closed the door. Faith looked at the door, then back at Scully, and then back to the door as she pointed.

“Daddy will be back. Dada. He’ll be back soon, don’t worry my love.” She bounced her and made her smile before sitting on the love seat in the room. “Today Mama and Dada are getting married, my girl. Wow .. every word of that sentence is slightly bizarre.”

She shook her head with a laugh, at the thought of not only getting married, but the little girl on her lap. “Faith, you don’t have the slightest idea the enormity of this day or of your existence, but you will. We will tell you. Daddy will continue his book for you, and you will see it every day with our love for each other, and for you.” She held Faith to her chest, stroking her hair and back, kissing the top of her head.

They sat together, Scully’s eyes closed as she sang softly to her. No song in particular, the tune and humming all that mattered. Faith lifted her head and looked at Scully, touching her face and smiling. Scully made a silly face and Faith laughed.

A knock sounded at the door and they both turned at the sound. “Who could that be?” Scully asked Faith, as they stood up.

“Dana, it’s Walter." She heard from the other side of the door.

“It’s Uncle Walter,” she said, looking at Faith. “How exciting. Is everything okay?” she asked, raising her voice.

“Fine. Mulder sent me to check on you and Faith. Do you want me to take her?”

“No, we’re okay,” she answered, slowly swaying her in her arms, and smiling. “Maybe in twenty minutes you could come and get her though?”

“Okay. Twenty minutes,” he agreed and then he was gone.

“Well, my love, looks like we better get started. I’m going to set you in the crib there with some toys, okay? Then we’ll get you changed and ready for the big moment.” She set Faith in the crib and put in some of her books and a snack cup with a few Cheerios inside.

Scully set about fixing up her hair and makeup, listening to Faith play and eat her little snack. When she was ready, aside from her dress, she laid the changing mat on the floor, and took Faith out of the crib. She grabbed her dress and laid it on the side of the crib. The bag of extras was also put in reachable distance as she sat on the floor and changed Faith’s diaper. She made her laugh by blowing on her belly, and then put on her tights.

“Okay, now the dress, my sweet little girl,” she said, kissing her cheeks. She slipped it on over her legs, slid her arms through the straps, and zipped up the back. She sat her on the mat and put her headband on, with the bow off to one side. Lastly, she put on her shoes, smiling at how well the outfit had finally come together.

“You are beautiful, Faith Mulder,” she whispered, as she kissed her cheek and stood up, bringing Faith with her. She double checked everything, making sure she was good to go, when there was another knock on the door. “Oh, your Uncle Walter is always so punctual.” She smiled as she opened the door and he stood there with his arms out, ready to take Faith from her.

He did so quickly, telling her he had it under control, she would be okay, and he would be back for her soon. Scully waved goodbye and closed the door. Looking over at her dress hanging and ready for her to slip into, she smiled. Before she put the dress on though, she cleaned up the mess Faith had made, gathered up her clothes, books, and snack cup, and threw out her dirty diaper.

Once everything was organized, she took the dress from the bag and stared at it, touching it softly. She took off her clothes and put them in the backpack. Taking the dress off the hanger, she stepped into it, and zipped it as far as she could. She stepped in front of the floor length mirror and stared at her reflection. The dress fit perfectly now, having been altered and taken in a couple of inches. Once again, she thought of how beautiful her mother had been in the dress and smiled at the new memories it would create.

“Thanks again, Mom,” she whispered softly.

She took a deep breath and smiled, adding another bobby pin to her hair, making sure it stayed where it was supposed to in the loose chignon she had created. Slipping on her shoes, she looked at her complete outfit, and smiled.

Taking out her makeup bag, she grabbed the mascara and applied it to her eyelashes, waving her hand in front of her face to speed up the drying process. As she put it back, she heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she called, and reached for the lipstick in her bag. Skinner popped his head in the door and she smiled as she caught his reflection in the mirror. “Come in.” She told him again and he stepped all the way inside.

She applied her lipstick as he walked closer to her, then dropped it back in the bag as she turned to him. He looked exceptionally handsome in a dark steel gray suit with a lighter gray button down shirt, which she had not noticed a few minutes ago. He shook his head slowly as he looked her up and down.

“You look stunningly beautiful,” he said with a smile, bending to kiss her cheek. She did not kiss him back, not wanting to get lipstick on him.

“Thank you. Could you zip it the rest of the way for me?” Turning around, she waited as he zipped it up. “Okay, I think that’s it. Oh, no. Wait.”

She stepped to the small table across the room and picked up the boutonniere Mulder had brought home on Sunday after his afternoon with Tampa. It was one pink and one white cherry blossom sprig, tied together with a thin ribbon, closely matching the color of their dresses and Mulder’s tie.

“How did he know this exact color, Mulder?” she asked yesterday morning, as she stood holding the container from the refrigerator in her hand.

“Tampa wanted to know our colors,” he answered with a shrug. She stared at him and he smiled. “I sent him a picture of my tie so he had an idea and he had them made up for me to bring home.”

“What else are you two planning?” she asked him, putting it back in the refrigerator, wondering what other surprises he had up his sleeve.

“Sorry, Miss Scully, but that would be telling,” he said, making a zipping motion across his lips, and tossing away the imaginary key with a grin.

She took the boutonniere out of the box now with a smile and walked over to Skinner. “This is not my idea, but I have to admit that it does look good. Don’t tell Mulder,” she said, as she pinned it on his lapel. He hummed a chuckle and then she noticed his tie: midnight blue with tiny gray alien heads. With a soft laugh, she touched it, adjusting it a little, and giving him a look. “Mulder saw this no doubt?”

“He did, but …” He stepped back and pulled up the leg of his pants. “He didn’t see these.” She laughed as she looked down at the matching socks. Lifting her eyes to his, he winked at her, and she pulled him in for a hug.

“Thank you, Skinner … Walter,” she whispered. “Thank you for so many things.” He held her tightly and then let go, nodding at her as he stepped back.

“You ready?”

“I am.”

“Nervous?”

“Would it be weird to hear that I am?” She laughed and then took a deep breath.

“No, I don’t think so. So how about we get this show on the road and calm those nerves?” he asked, crooking his arm out and she threaded hers through it. One last look in the mirror and they walked out the door.

Down the hall they went, the church doors growing closer. Breathing out, Scully shook her head at the nervous feeling in her stomach. It was silly to feel that way, especially as they had come to the church today, from the home they shared.

“You know, it’s not too late,” Skinner said softly, motioning toward the door outside. “We could make a run for it. I’m not as pretty as Mulder, but …” She glanced sideways at him, and he grinned. It was enough to break her nervousness and she laughed as she rested her head on his arm.

“It’s a fine offer, but … a person can’t run away from their own heart,” she said quietly, stopping at the closed double doors of the church entrance and looking at Skinner. “That man in there took a piece of my heart the first day I met him. He didn’t do it knowingly, but it happened all the same. Every day I’ve spent with him, for over twenty years, a little piece of my heart has become his and vice versa. Sometimes it seems as though we’re playing an unending game of Risk, where the reward is not territory won, but love … as sappy as that may sound.”

“Sappy? Dana ...” Skinner said softly, shaking his head with a smile. “I watched you two for years, wondering when you were going to finally figure it out. To see what I saw. I teased you about the silent communication the other day, but it is truly something to witness. Not every partnership has that, work or marriage. But you two … I can’t describe it. It’s love, Dana. Sappy, messy, and beautiful. You two deserve it. This moment, that little girl, and … one day … maybe he’ll find you two again. So for now, sappy sounds pretty good.” He grinned and Scully shook her head as her eyes filled with tears.

“Come on, don’t do this to me,” she whispered. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. Closing her eyes briefly, she took another breath, then looked at him, scrunching her chin.

“Ready?” he asked, sticking out his arm again. She nodded and handed him his handkerchief back. Taking his arm, she exhaled and Skinner knocked loudly on the door, and stepped them back a couple of steps. She looked at him in confusion, but he simply shrugged.

She could hear movement on the other side of the doors and then soft music began to play. As the doors opened, she stood frozen in place, recognizing the song. It was Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel. A song she had told Mulder, to the best of her recollection, only once, was the perfect wedding song. As she stood there, hearing the music begin to swell, knowing he chose it because she had said something about it years ago, it had never sounded so perfect or beautiful.

She looked at Mulder at the end of the aisle waiting for her, Faith in his arms, and it hit her that they were actually doing this - getting married. Married. A man she might not have looked twice at, stood waiting to declare himself to her for the rest of their lives. Past, present, and future lives, they would always be together. She knew it and that knowledge made her take her first step forward.

Skinner stepped with her and the pressure of his touch was the only thing stopping her from running headlong down the aisle, the way she had wanted to do when she was seven and taking her first communion.

Years of extra study classes, she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Her mother’s touch and warning tone had slowed her as Skinner’s gait did today, but for opposite reasons. The anticipation of communion had been more exciting than the actuality of it.

This though … this would not be.

“Slow, Dana. Enjoy this moment,” Skinner whispered, and she did as he said, slowing her step as she glanced to her left. She saw the candles where she and Mulder had come back to one another and as far as she was concerned, had been married in that moment, no priest needed.

You didn’t flee, you saved us both. You didn’t give up on anything, Scully, least of all me, or us. You saved us.

I love you, Scully. More than you could ever quantify or understand.

She looked back at Mulder and wondered if he had the same thoughts, being here in this church. He smiled at her as they drew closer to the end of the aisle. Faith bounced in his arms, then reached for Scully as they walked up the stairs to the altar. Scully kissed her hands, but did not take her from Mulder.

Skinner stepped closer, Scully’s arm dropping from his, and her hand reaching for Mulder’s. He handed Faith to Skinner and took both of Scully’s hands in his own.

“You are so beautiful,” Mulder said to her and she smiled. He bent his head and kissed her. She put a hand on his face, holding him there, his lips soft on her own.

“And may I add … my my,” she replied, her eyes flicking up and down his body. His black suit was perfect with the crisp white shirt and slate blue tie. He also had a cherry blossom boutonniere and his cologne was intoxicating. When her eyes met his, he raised his eyebrows and she smirked at him.

A throat cleared and Scully looked to her left to find the priest grinning at them. She felt her face flush as she stepped back, her head down and a smile on her face as she took Mulder’s hand again. The priest cleared his throat once more and Mulder squeezed her hands. She looked up at him and he winked.

“Fox and Dana, you have come here today to be joined in the eyes of God and man,” the priest began, and that was the last Scully heard from him.

She stared at Mulder and saw him through the years. Standing in the rain, heat, snow, and wind. Running to catch a suspect or escape from something heinous. Their lives were lived in car rides, arguing over the radio station, and the proper temperature that was most desired. Airplanes and motel rooms, where they learned one another’s temperaments and pleasures. She knew by their fifth case that he would go out of his way for a good cheeseburger, but shrugged when the motel water ran brown for a few seconds. He knew she preferred to sleep without noise, so he kept his television low if they had adjoining rooms.

Their lives were not normal, at least not compared to how others lived theirs, but it was their lives and their story, and still she would not change a day. Every twist and turn made them who they were and for that, she could find no fault as to how their path was laid out before them. She squeezed his hands and he squeezed back, a smile on his face.

“Dana?” She turned and looked at the priest and he smiled. “Did you have some things you wanted to say?” She nodded and looked back at Mulder, taking a breath.

“So many things I could say, promises I could make, but we’ve already said them all, here in this church in fact.” She laughed softly, and he smiled. “The most important thing I could say, all that truly matters, is that I love you. You hold the other half of my heart. I have been yours and you have been mine for so long, Mulder, this…” She waved her hand around before taking his hand again. “This is just a formality.”

She smiled at him and he squeezed her hands. “That’s not exactly fair of you, Scully. You took some of my words,” he said, his face serious, but his eyes dancing, causing her to laugh. “Scully, you are my one in … what seven billion by now? It’s you, Scully. It’s been you since you came into my motel room that first case and bared yourself to me. Oh.” He looked at the priest with wide eyes and Scully laughed. “It’s not … see, she thought … it was mosquito bites, but …”

“It’s okay. Please continue,” the priest said with a laugh and Mulder sighed with relief.

“I knew from that moment, Scully, that I could trust you, and that was all that mattered. That moment led us down a path, both together and separate, but now we’re here, finally getting it right. I love you so much,” he said, looking into her eyes, as she smiled at him.

The priest began to speak again, but she did not hear him. She looked into Mulder’s eyes and saw herself reflected in them. How many times had she seen herself when she looked at him this way? Younger, greener, wide eyed with wonder and innocence. Older, experienced, hurt, and doubting the world around her.

But she never doubted him.

Yes, they had stumbled, had nearly broken beyond repair, but never would she doubt his relentlessness and his drive to hold truth to power. His dedication to the truth and desire to bring light into the darkness was one of the reasons she fell in love with him. He was her center, always pointing north, showing her the way back when she strayed too far.

“Dana?”

“What?” she asked, jumping a little, surprised to see the priest standing there, her focus and thoughts being only on Mulder. They both chuckled at her and she shook her head, looking back at Mulder.

“I asked if you would have Fox, to be your husband, in sickness and health, wealth and disparity, remaining faithful to him, parting only in death?”

She smiled, her eyes wet with tears as she hoped to convey how much the two words she was about to say meant to her. Her love lived in her eyes, he had told her once when he had been reminiscing over the ways he had said he loved her in the past without actually saying the words. She had drawn a blank at the words she had spoken to him and looked at him in a panic, until he pulled her into his arms with a smile.

Your love has and always will live in your eyes, Scully. I can be across the room and feel it on me. It’s quiet, yet it’s louder than a chorus of people, and I can hear it without hearing a sound. You look at me, with those big blue eyes, and that’s all I need.

He smiled and she knew he had heard her, just as he always said he did, their silent communication being theirs and theirs alone.

“I will.”

“And will you, Fox, have Dana to be your wife, in sickness and health, wealth and disparity, remaining faithful to her, parting only in death?”

Mulder stared at her, his grip on her hands tight, conveying to her the things he was thinking and feeling. She nodded as he had done and he smiled and nodded back.

“I will.”

“Have you the rings?”

Skinner stepped close to her and handed her Mulder’s ring first. She held Mulder's hand, staring into his eyes, saying a million things without saying a word. Her love poured over into this simple act of sliding a band of gold onto his finger. When she felt his hand shake a little, she knew he understood. This was not commonplace and he had been so right in not going to the courthouse and being just a number. This was precisely how it should have been.

Skinner handed Mulder hers next and cleared his throat, giving him a look. He smiled and Scully grinned at him as he stepped back with a wink.

Mulder held her hand and slid the ring on her finger. She stared into his eyes, hearing all he was silently telling her. Love, adoration, thankfulness, hope, faith, and patience, all hung in the air and surrounded them. She felt love like she never had before and she could not stop the tears from spilling over.

He let go of her hands and softly wiped her cheeks and then her eyes. He rested his forehead to hers and whispered his love for her. She nodded and they heard a throat clear again.

“You got us in trouble,” he breathed, and she giggled, tears spilling out again, happiness unable to be contained. He wiped her cheeks and stepped back with a wink.

“By the declaration of love and the giving of rings, you have been bonded together by a vow only death can break. By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

Mulder grinned and then his lips were on hers, kissing her with love and a promise of forever. She held his face and kissed him back, a promise sealed, vows unbreakable.

Mulder pulled her close, swaying as he held her, whispering his thanks that she went along with this crazy plan.

“It was exactly as it should have been,” she whispered and he hummed.

When she pulled back, his hands stayed at her waist, his forehead against hers, his love whispered again. She heard a whistle and looked over to see Skinner whistling and clapping as he held Faith, who looked at him and then clapped her hands with a squeal of delight.

He stepped over and hugged them both. The priest shook their hands and asked for Skinner to come with him to prepare the wedding certificate. Skinner handed Faith to Scully, kissing her cheek as he did.

“It’s about time,” he said quietly, giving them each a stern look. They laughed and Scully held Faith close to her. Skinner walked off the altar and followed the priest, but they remained behind, taking a moment together.

They looked at each other and Mulder kissed her again, taking Faith from her and kissing her cheek as he did. He pulled Scully to him and they stood in a close embrace.

“Married, Scully,” he whispered. “Holy shit. Oh … sorry.” She looked at him and saw he was glancing up, his expression repentant. He looked down at her and she kissed him.

“Holy shit indeed,” she said, and his eyes widened as he looked up and around, as though expecting the sky to fall on them. She laughed and Faith clapped her hands. Mulder lifted her up and she laughed.

Once more they stood, holding one another, before Scully broke away and took Mulder’s arm. They walked down the stairs and down the aisle, Faith babbling loudly in the echo of the church. As they reached the end of the aisle, she glanced at the candles, pausing in her stride as she did.

Looking up at him, he nodded with a smile, and they walked over to the candles. As they stepped into the alcove, her mind returned to the last time they stood there, their hearts sure, but their mouths tripping over the words.

“I was pregnant,” she whispered, looking at him and then at Faith, whose eyes were big as she looked at the glowing candles. “I had no idea, and yet here we stood, making a life changing decision. Our leap of faith, literally.” She touched Faith’s leg, then her back. “Mulder …”

He nodded and reached for the matchstick beside him and lit it on a nearby candle. Holding it out to her, she held the end of it with him, and together they lit their candle. Mulder shook the flame out from the matchstick, set it down, and put his arm around her shoulder and she around his waist.

She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer, for happiness, wisdom, guidance, and above all, love. Love that would shine on past angry words, sad moments, hurts that would seem so large but actually tiny in retrospect, and through any suffering they might experience in years to come.

Opening her eyes, she squeezed his waist and then moved to hold his hand, their fingers locked together. “I love you, Mulder,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“I love you, Scully, I mean, Mrs. Mulder. Oh … no. I regret saying that immediately." He shuddered with a disgusted look on his face. She laughed and Faith looked between them and then touched Mulder’s face with her hand.

“Dada,” she said, looking at him and they froze. He looked at her and then let go of Scully’s hand to hold her tightly to his chest.

“Oh, Faith,” he whispered, and Scully’s eyes filled with tears. “My little Squatch …” He held her close and shook his head. “My girl, I love you so much.” Pulling back, he looked at her and then at Scully, tears in his eyes as well. “Scully …”

“I know.”

He shook his head and then looked at Faith, kissing her forehead, whispering he loved her so much. He chuckled and Scully tilted her head, a curious smile on her face as she wiped her eyes. He shook his head and smiled, glancing at the candles.

“A plus B equals C,” he said quietly, and she grinned.

“That it does,” she answered softly.

Once more they stood staring at one another in the light of the candles, a bond that began twenty six years ago and was reforged last year, that had now been made unbreakable. Wrapping her arms around him, she closed her eyes, her prayer now one of thankfulness and hope.

Reason and faith in harmony, forever and always.

____________________________________________________

Ugh, this wedding. ❤️💕 I have enjoyed it so much. It has made me smile, cry, laugh, and sigh. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series #Wedding Day #Married #New Beginnings #Love #Happiness #Celebrating Love #Finally

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