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myownsuperintendent · 4 years

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Fic: “Through the Years”

Scully, Mulder, Emily, and William experience life as a family through the years. Family fluff. I moved Baby #3 up five-ish years to make it less ridiculous. Rated T for mild sexual content. Also here at Ao3.

.....

They come up the stairs to her apartment, Scully carrying the bags. “This is it,” she says. “This is…this’ll be home.” Emily doesn’t say anything; she’s been quiet since they got on the plane this morning. Scully tried talking to her, pointing to the clouds and the tiny houses below, telling her about the fun things they’d do once they got to Washington. Eventually she let her sleep. She knows this won’t be perfect, not all at once. But she can’t help it: she has so much hope.

“Do you want to go in?” she asks. “See your room?” Emily nods, after a moment, and Scully unlocks the door and goes in.

Emily’s room should be ready, even though Scully’s been staying out in California with her. They ordered furniture from a catalogue—she let Emily pick out her new bed and sheets—and they packed up the things from Emily’s old room and had them shipped. She wanted it to be here for Emily when they arrived. Mulder’s been a help to her with all of it; he came over to her place to supervise the delivery. “Everything accounted for,” he told her over the phone yesterday. “I didn’t even injure myself setting up the bed.”

She laughed. “Thank you,” she said. “Really, thank you so much for…for everything you’ve done.” She hasn’t said anything to him, but she is worried that this will change things between them; she knows she won’t be able to travel as much, for one thing, and so the way they work will have to be different. She worried he might resent that, but so far there aren’t any signs of it; he seems as excited about the new direction her life is taking as she does.

“It’s nothing, Scully,” he said. “Any way I can help. Let me know.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, softly, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

And when she opens the door to what used to be a spare room, a place for her to store extra books, it’s Emily’s bedroom: everything they picked out is there. The new sheets are on the new bed, Emily’s picture books and stuffed animals are on the shelves, and there’s a night light on the wall. “Here we are, sweetie,” she says. “What do you think?”

Emily goes over to the bed. “What’s that?” she asks.

Scully looks; there’s a teddy bear sitting in the center of the bed, along with a little book. A card is propped against the bear. “Looks like it might be a present for you,” she says. “Should we read the card?” Emily nods, and Scully opens it. “Dear Emily,” she reads. “I hope you like your new room. Since I missed your birthday and Christmas this year, I wanted to give you some belated presents. Maybe I’ll see you soon. Mulder.”

Emily’s already holding the bear. “What’s belated?”

“It means late,” Scully explains. “Since it’s after your birthday and Christmas.” He didn’t have to get Emily presents at all, of course. He didn’t have to, but he did.

“Can we read the book?” Emily asks.

“Sure we can,” Scully says. She takes a seat on the bed, and Emily leans against her; she’s shy sometimes, but she seems to like this kind of proximity when Scully is reading to her. They do that a lot, because sometimes it’s the simplest way for them to be together: one that doesn’t bring up any troubles or uncertainties. The book Mulder gave Emily is called The Little Fur Family, and it has a fuzzy cover, which Emily touches gently while Scully reads.

When the book is finished, Scully shows Emily the rest of the apartment; Emily follows her, still not saying much. She carries the bear under her arm. “His name is Buttons,” she says, while they’re eating supper (Scully really needs to get groceries, after a month and a half spent in California, but luckily she found a box of macaroni and cheese in the cabinet).

“That’s a good name,” Scully says. “Would you like to call Mulder after we eat? I want to tell him we’re back, and you could tell him that you named Buttons.”

“Okay,” Emily says.

Mulder answers quickly when she calls. “Hey, Scully,” he says. “You home?”

“We’re home,” she confirms, looking down at Emily, who is sitting next to her on the couch. “Thank you for setting up the room. It looks wonderful.”

“Really, it was no trouble,” he says. “Glad to do it. Did Emily see her presents?”

“She did,” Scully says. “She has something she wants to say to you.” She hands Emily the phone.

“Hi,” Emily says, her voice coming out whispery. “Thank you…The bear’s name is Buttons.” She seems to have run out to things to say now; she looks up at Scully questioningly, and Scully takes back the phone.

“She really likes them,” she says. “Thank you so much, Mulder. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he says. “She deserves them.”

Scully smiles. “Well, thank you. I want to…I think we’ll take the next couple of days to settle in, the two of us. But after that…we’ll see you soon?”

“Of course,” he says, and she’s happy, when she hangs up the phone.

Emily wants to read The Little Fur Family again before bed, and Scully reads it to her before tucking her in, pulling the new comforter gently up under her chin. “Sleep well,” she says. “You remember where my room is?” Emily nods, sleepily. “Well, I’ll be right in there if you need me. I’ll leave the door open.” Emily nods again. “Good night, Emily. I love you.” She hugs her daughter tightly. She still can’t believe it all.

“Good night, Dana,” Emily says, in her soft voice, and Scully kisses her cheek and turns out the light.

It takes her a while to settle down—aside from the events of the day, her body’s still on California time—but she’s asleep herself when she hears Emily’s voice, suddenly. She sits up, trying not to panic, and turns on the light next to her bed; Emily’s standing next to it, crying. “Dana,” she says, “I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Scully says, jumping out of bed, stooping down next to Emily, putting her arms around her. “It’s all right now. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

“My mommy…” Emily sobs, in the most heartbreaking voice Scully has ever heard.

“I know, sweetheart,” she says. “I know it makes you sad.”

She walks Emily back to bed, tucking her in again, drying her tears and stroking her hair. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep again,” she says. “How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Emily says, still with a choke in her voice.

“I’m right here,” she says again. “And I love you so much.”

She lies down next to Emily, although there isn’t much space on the little bed. She strokes her hair back and forth, humming a lullaby off-key. She isn’t sure when Emily falls asleep. At some point she falls asleep too.

.....

Scully’s mom called to say that she’ll be late—there’s a lot of traffic—so the three of them are waiting in the living room now. Emily’s huddled into a corner of the couch. “Where are you going?” she asks, not for the first time this afternoon.

“To dinner, sweetie,” Scully says. “But you’ll have lots of fun with Grandma. And we’ll be back later.” Mulder nods.

“Why can’t I come?” Emily asks.

Scully isn’t sure what to tell her. She kissed Mulder for the first time a month and a half ago—on this very couch, while Emily was sleeping down the hall, after the three of them had spent the day together—and since then the two of them have been, well, dating she guesses is the word for it, although it feels a little simplistic considering the history of their relationship. So far it’s going well. More than well. But she hasn’t wanted to tell Emily yet, just in case. She knows it’s not a good idea to introduce things like this into kids’ lives too quickly. And that’s even in cases where those children haven’t already gone through a lot of upheaval.

So she just says, “Mulder and I are going to spend a little time just the two of us. Because we’re friends and—”

“Mulder’s my friend too,” Emily says. “Aren’t you?” she adds, quickly, glancing up at him.

“Of course I am, Em,” he says. “What I think your mom is saying—”

“Why don’t you stay here anymore, then?” Emily asks. “Why don’t we all play together? We used to, and now…now we don’t!” And she bursts into tears then, her face pressed against the cushion. “Why doesn’t Mulder stay?” she asks again, sobbing.

Scully scoops her up, feeling horrible. Emily has a point: it used to always be the three of them, whenever Mulder came over, and now it isn’t, not always. She’d thought they were still spending plenty of time together aside from their dates, but apparently it isn’t enough for Emily. She’d thought she was protecting Emily from change; instead, she’s just made it worse.

“Oh, Emily,” she says. “I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, sweetie.”

“We didn’t mean to make you sad, Em,” Mulder adds, hovering over them, looking as upset as she feels.

“Why…do you…eat dinner…without…me?” Emily asks, in between sobs.

Scully makes a snap parenting the decision, the kind she’s had to make a lot of since last year and doesn’t feel used to yet. But she’s hoping the truth will be less painful for Emily. “Emily, Mulder and I…we’ve been going on dates. Do you know what that means?”

“No,” Emily says.

Scully tries to think of an explanation that will be within Emily’s frame of reference. She’s seen a number of Disney movies, which have probably been her biggest exposure to romance, but they tend to go for the love at first sight angle. But she can’t think of anything better, not quickly enough, anyway, with Emily still crying in her lap. “You know in Beauty and the Beast,” she says, “when they eat breakfast together and they play in the snow? And then they dance?” From the way Mulder is looking at her, she guesses she sounds insane.

But Emily latches on to the explanation. “Oh,” she says. “So it’s like falling in love?”

“Well…” Scully begins. She hasn’t used that word yet, with Mulder. She’s thought about it, but she hasn’t said it out loud.

Emily hasn’t stopped talking, though. She turns to Mulder now. “Do you love Mommy?”

Scully’s breath catches. But before she can say anything, tell Emily that she shouldn’t ask that, Mulder speaks. “I do.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Emily says, although Scully’s only dimly aware of it. “But why does that mean we can’t have dinner together?” She wipes her eyes.

“We…we can,” Scully manages. “We just…we didn’t tell you everything before, because we thought it would be a surprise for you.”

Emily looks at her, her head tipped to one size. “No,” she says, finally. “Not a surprise.” Scully is beginning to get a little annoyed with this kind of reaction. Her mom (“Well, it’s about time, dear”) was one thing, and Skinner’s knowing look when he bumped into them holding hands last weekend was another. But to have her four-year-old daughter tell her that it’s not a surprise…At least Emily looks happier now, though, and Scully gives her a hug.

“How about we stay home tonight, after all?” she says. “And when Grandma gets here, we can all have dinner together.” She gives Mulder a half-apologetic look, but he doesn’t seem upset at all. And looking at him makes her think of what he just said. He loves me, she thinks. She has to tell him; she can’t let him think it’s all on one side. But there’s Emily sitting right in between them.

She gets her chance soon enough, though. Her mom arrives, and Emily wants to show her the drawings she did in preschool that day, and Mulder offers to help Scully make dinner. He follows her into the kitchen, standing close to her as she takes vegetables out of the refrigerator and pasta out of the cabinet. “I didn’t plan to tell you like that,” he says. His voice is soft, almost self-conscious.

She turns and smiles at him. “I’m not complaining. Maybe Emily knows how to run this thing better than we do.” She steps up, takes his hand. “I love you too,” she says, the words coming out in a breath.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” she says. “Really.” His smile makes her feel warm. And she stretches up and kisses him, fairly chastely since her mom and Emily are right there, but hoping he’ll get the intention behind it. From the way he holds her, his arms tightly around her waist, she thinks he does.

Emily comes running into the kitchen then. “What are we having?” she asks.

“Spaghetti and vegetables,” Scully tells her.

“You want to help me and your mom?” Mulder asks. He hoists her up into the air, and she shrieks with joy. Scully knows how she feels.

.....

Mulder hears the door creak open, and Emily bounds in, landing on the foot of the bed. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Emily,” Scully says. “Remember that talk we had? About knocking?” They’re both fully clothed, because they know she’ll forget, but they’re hoping the message will sink in one of these days.

“Sorry,” Emily says. “I did remember. But I was just excited for today.”

“So’re we,” Mulder says. He ruffles her hair as she slides up to lie between them.

“What time are we going?” she asks.

“Our appointment’s at eleven,” Scully says. “So we have three hours.”

“That’s so long,” Emily says, pouting. “Three whole hours?”

“It’ll go faster than you think,” Mulder says, even though he secretly agrees. “Should we get up and have breakfast?”

Making breakfast distracts Emily a little, although he can tell that she’s still excited; she bounces up and down and pours extra maple syrup onto the pancakes. Scully catches his eye and smiles, and he smiles back at her. Emily’s right. It’s a momentous day.

They’re out of the house at last, in the car, driving to the courthouse. They’ve all dressed nicely; he’s wearing a suit, and Emily is wearing the blue dress they got her for the wedding. She’s still smiling, although Mulder’s a little nervous, and he thinks Scully is too. He doesn’t know why they should be—they were told that this second hearing was largely a formality—but maybe because it means so much. They each take one of Emily’s hands as they walk into the courthouse, and she looks up at them. Her face is serious now; maybe she’s caught the mood.

But everything goes as it should, as they’ve been told it would. They leave the courthouse with a copy of the adoption certificate: his name is on it, listed as Emily’s father. She’s already been calling him her dad since he and Scully got married, but it means something that now it’s official. They all feel it. He stoops to hug Emily before they get back in the car, kissing the top of her head.

They go out for lunch afterwards, and they get ice cream too; that’s part of his job as Emily’s dad, he thinks, buying her ice cream. She sits by his side in the restaurant booth, scraping the bowl with her spoon, and leans against his shoulder.

When the waitress brings the check, he says to her, “Would you mind taking a picture of the three of us?”

“Sure,” she says. “Not at all.”

They hang it on the refrigerator, the picture of him and Scully and Emily, all sitting together, all smiling. A family in print.

.....

William’s the most incredible thing Mulder’s ever seen—and he’s seen a lot of incredible things. He’s been alive for twelve hours now, and the novelty hasn’t worn off one bit in that time. He can’t take his eyes off his son, a tiny bundle in Scully’s arms.

“Hi there,” Scully says to William, who’s staring up at them both. His eyes are blue. “Do you know that we love you more than anything? Because we really, really do.”

“Your mom’s right,” Mulder says. William yawns, and he marvels. “He just…he’s amazing, Scully.”

“Isn’t he?” She looks exhausted and overjoyed.

Maggie stayed with Emily overnight, but they should be on their way to the hospital now. Mulder wonders how Emily’s going to take to her brother. A part of him can’t imagine anyone not adoring William, but he knows that Emily’s been anxious about not being the only child anymore. Especially during the last few months of Scully’s pregnancy, she clung to the two of them, wanting seemingly constant attention. “Will you love me as much as the baby?” she asked, only a few days ago, and even though they told her that of course they would, trying to reassure her with hugs and soothing words, she still looked unsure.

There’s a tap at the door to the hospital room. “May we come in?” Maggie’s voice.

“Yes, come on in!” Scully calls.

The door opens, revealing Maggie and Emily, who’s clinging tightly to a bunch of flowers. “Mommy! Daddy!” she says. “I missed you.”

“We missed you too, sweetie,” Scully says. Mulder takes William, and she holds out her arms. “Come here so I can give you a hug.”

“Gently,” Mulder adds, as Emily runs towards her mother. She stops for a minute and then slows her steps, giving Scully a careful hug.

“We brought you flowers,” she says, as if just remembering; the bouquet is a little crushed now from the hug, but Scully takes it anyway, smiling.

“They’re so beautiful,” she says. “Did you pick them out with Grandma?” Emily nods, and Scully kisses her cheek. “Well, thank you both so much.”

Emily’s looking up at William. “Is that him?” she asks.

“Yes,” Scully says. “That’s your brother. Do you know what his name is?”

“William,” Emily says. “Grandma told me. After she talked to Daddy on the phone.”

“That’s right,” Scully says. “Do you want to say hello to him?”

“Okay,” Emily says. They all crowd around; Mulder moves, carefully, to sit on the bed next to Scully and Emily, and Maggie comes by too, wanting to get a look at her grandson.

“This is William,” he says, softly. “William, this is your grandmother. And this is your big sister, Emily.”

“Oh, he’s so sweet!” Maggie exclaims. “Look at that face! I think he looks like you, Dana.”

“I think so too,” Mulder says.

Emily is staring. “He’s so little,” she says finally, in a soft, awed voice. “I didn’t know he’d be so little.”

“Well, he’s brand new,” Scully says. “Not even a whole day old. Do you want to say hi to him?”

“Hi,” Emily says. Her voice is still soft, almost a whisper and very, very gentle. “Hi, baby William. I’m Emily. You’re so, so little.” She looks up at them. “His hands are so little.”

“They are,” Mulder says. “If you touch his hand with your finger, he’ll grab it.”

Emily looks astonished. “Will he, really?”

“Try and see,” Mulder says.

Emily places her index finger gently against William’s hand, and his own fingers curl around it, gripping tightly. “Wow,” she says. “Wow.”

“Would you like to try holding him for a little bit?” Scully asks.

“Oh,” Emily says, “oh, could I?” There’s longing in her voice.

“Why don’t you sit in the chair,” Mulder says, “and I’ll bring him over to you?” Emily nods quickly, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, and Mulder hands her William, carefully, supporting her arms with his own at first. “You have to keep one hand under his head,” he tells her. “Like this, see?” Emily nods seriously, mimicking what he’s doing. Even when he takes his arms away, he hovers near the chair. Emily’s right: William is so little, and so precious.

“I’m your big sister,” Emily is saying to William. “Your big sister. And I’m going to take care of you. Because you’re so little.”

So far, so good, Mulder thinks. She doesn’t seem like she’s upset about William being here. He looks at Scully, who’s watching Emily hold her brother with an incredible smile on her face. He bends over to kiss her cheek.

They go home from the hospital the next afternoon. They settle William into his crib, and then Mulder helps Scully get settled too, putting her things away for her, arranging her pillows until he’s sure that she’s comfortable. “Mulder,” she says. “You don’t have to do all of this.”

“You just had a baby, Scully,” he points out. “Two days ago, in fact. You know, I couldn’t do what you did.”

“Yeah,” Scully says, grinning. “I don’t think that’s physically possible.”

“You know what I mean,” he says. “You’re incredible. A force of nature. And you deserve to rest now. While William’s sleeping. You will rest, won’t you?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’ll rest. Since William’s sleeping, and all.” He can tell she’s tired from her voice, from the way she settles back on the bed. He leaves her to sleep then, thinking he’ll look in on William. He wants to make sure everything’s okay with him.

As he heads toward the nursery, he can hear Emily’s voice. Hoping she’s not waking William up, he opens the door carefully. William’s awake, but he’s not crying or fussing, just staring at his sister. She has her face pressed up against the bars of the crib, and she’s reading aloud. Mulder can see the book in her hands. The Little Fur Family.

“Em?” he says. “What are you doing, sweetie?”

She turns to look at him. “I’m just reading to him. To keep him company. He likes the book.”

Mulder smiles at her. “Can I sit with the two of you?”

“Yes,” Emily says, and Mulder takes a seat in the rocking chair, his eyes on his children. Emily finishes the book, closing the covers carefully. “I can read you another book later,” she says to William. “I have a lot of good ones.” He blinks at her, and she turns to Mulder. “Daddy?”

“Yes, Emily?”

“I really love him,” she says. “I think I’m going to love him forever.”

“Me too,” Mulder says. He stoops down and hugs her. “And I’m going to love you forever too.”

They sit quietly in the nursery, the three of them, until Scully comes in to join them. She feeds William, then, while Mulder gets dinner together for the rest of them. He’s tired too—he can feel it, somewhere in the back of his mind—but right now he doesn’t care.

.....

It’s one of those days when William just keeps fussing and fussing. Emily usually likes to play with him, but not right now, not when he just cries whatever she does. Mommy says that he might be getting new teeth; she’s trying to get him to stop crying by giving him things to chew on. But Emily’s tired of it, right now, so she goes to see if she can find Daddy.

She finds him sitting on the back steps, looking out at the yard. She sits down next to him. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi, Em,” he says. He doesn’t look at her when he says it, so she tries to figure out what he is looking at. The flowers, she thinks.

“Are those the ones you planted?” she asks. “For…for Samantha?” She isn’t sure if she should say Aunt Samantha, because Samantha was Daddy’s sister and that would make her Emily’s aunt, if she were here, but Emily never met her. She died a long time ago, she knows. That’s why Daddy planted the flowers when they moved into the house, earlier this year, and Mommy helped. They planted them at the house, because Samantha was dead but Daddy didn’t have a cemetary to visit for her, like you do with most dead people. Emily couldn’t see them then—they were just seeds—but now she can; they’re bright yellow ones.

Daddy nods. “Yes.”

“They’re pretty,” she says. “Do they make you sad, though? To look at?” His face looks a little sad.

“The flowers? They don’t make me sad, exactly,” Daddy says. “They just make me think about Samantha. And that makes me sad, sometimes. Because I miss her.”

Emily nods. “I’m still sad when I think about my other mommy and daddy, sometimes,” she says. “Even though that was a long time ago too.”

Daddy puts an arm around her. “I think we all feel sad,” he says, “when we think about people we miss.”

“Was it a really long time ago?” Emily asks. “When she died, I mean.” She thinks it must be, because she’s seen a picture of Daddy with Samantha, and he was only a kid in it. An older kid, but still.

“Yes, a long time ago,” Daddy says.

“How old were you?” Emily asks.

“Well, I was twelve the last time I saw her,” Daddy says. “And she was eight then.”

Eight’s not a lot bigger than Emily. She doesn’t really like to think about it. “Did you play together?” she asks. “Like me and William?”

“We did,” Daddy says. “Sometimes we’d play outside, on nice days like this. That’s why I decided to come out to look at the flowers. Just to remember her. Just to think.”

Sometimes people like you to be quiet when they think, Emily knows. “Do you want me to go back inside?” she asks. “So you can think?”

He smiles at her. “No, that’s okay, Em. You’re not keeping me from thinking.”

They sit and look at the flowers together then. “I think they’re really pretty,” Emily says. “I bet she would like them so much.” Daddy doesn’t say anything. “Would we all play together?” she asks. “If she were here?”

He smiles at her, but his eyes look sad. “I bet we would,” he says, and he hugs her tight.

She hugs him back. “It’s okay to be sad,” she says, because Mommy and Daddy tell her that sometimes.

“Yeah, Em,” he says. “You’re right.”

They sit there for a while longer, and when they go back inside she gives William a hug too. Because he is her brother, even if he fusses a lot.

.....

It's been a busy several weeks. They’ve both been swamped at work, and then the kids have been passing a series of bugs back and forth between them. Scully knows it’s entirely out of their control, but after the third week of sniffling and coughing she wondered if they were doing something like licking the walls in the school bathrooms. Childhood illnesses are something she’s equipped to deal with, and she’s very grateful that her children are facing nothing worse, but that doesn’t make it any more fun.

She’s barely had any time to spend with Mulder, either, outside of the daily round. They’ve been tag teaming work and childcare and housework (the latter pretty minimal at this point), but something’s had to give, and unfortunately that something’s proved to be them as a couple. They’re too exhaused, most nights, to do anything more than smile at each other over the dinner table and then fall asleep as soon as their heads touch the pillow. She remembers days in the office, in the car together, in motel rooms, when she was sure she was going to die if she didn’t get to touch him. Now she’s got the chance, and she doesn’t have the energy to take advantage of it.

She tucks in Emily one night; she thinks Emily’s getting over whatever she has, although she doesn’t want to count on anything by now. “Are you feeling any better, sweetie?” she asks.

“I think so,” Emily says. She still sounds congested, but not as much as she did yesterday.

“Well, I’m sure sleep will help you,” Scully says. “Good night, Emily.”

“Good night, Mom,” Emily says. Scully turns out the light and leaves the room.

Mulder’s sitting on their bed, working on something on his computer. “Hey,” he says, when she comes in. “Just trying to get this lesson plan done. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says. She opens her drawer to look for pajamas. “I’m behind on that too.” She sighs.

Mulder looks up. “You doing okay?” he asks. “I mean, I guess none of us are doing great right now, but under the circumstances?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she says. She flops down next to him, just for a minute, and promises herself she won’t fall asleep in her clothes. At least tomorrow’s Saturday, thank goodness. “I just hate feeling like I’m dropping the ball.”

“You’re not dropping the ball,” Mulder says. “Life happens to everyone.”

She knows he means it. She knows she should accept the comfort. She thinks it’s probably easier to extend yourself that kind of grace when you’re not trying to be a woman in a workplace that’s still dominated by men. When your male students don’t talk to you with condescenscion. When you’re not being told what you have to do to be a good agent and what you have to do to be a good mother and finding impossible gaps in between them. She knows if she told Mulder this he would listen. But she doesn’t feel like it.

“I guess,” she says.

“Also,” he says, “I know we haven’t had much time to think about it, but do you have any ideas about what you want to do next Sunday?”

Sleep for fifteen hours, she thinks. “Is something going on next Sunday?”

“Yeah,” he says, “our anniversary.”

Shit, she’s an idiot. Add good wife to the list of impossible roles she’s trying to play right now. “I lost track of the dates. Sorry.”

“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay.” He kisses her cheek.

“It’s not okay,” she says. “I just…I wish we had more time for us.”

“We’ll get through this,” he says. “The kids are getting over their…whatever it is they have this time. And then we’ll catch up on work and…we’ll get through this.”

She knows he’s right, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. “I’ll think about next Sunday,” she says. “Try to come up with something.”

“Surprise me,” he says. “You’re good at that.”

“You’re good at it too,” she says. He’s never stopped surprising her, in all these years together. That’s one thing she can be glad about.

They don’t talk about it more right then, because they’re still exhausted. He finishes up the lesson plan, and she puts on her pajamas, and they both fall into bed.

Scully does try to think about their anniversary though, in between all the other things that make up her day. What she’d really like would be just for the two of them to have some time alone together, some time to relax and enjoy each other—that seems special enough right now. Maybe she can enlist her mom, she thinks, get her to take Emily and William for the day. She calls her, in between classes, and her mom says she’s happy to do it, that she’d expected to be asked, even. So that’s one part of the problem solved. Now she just has to figure out what to do with the rest of the time, if she should plan something or just let it unroll spontaneously. She doesn’t want to half-ass things, but then sometimes the spontaneous days, with the two of them, are the best ones.

She doesn’t have that much time to dwell on it over the course of the week, though. Emily and William are both healthy again, back in school, but that means extra time to devote to catching up on the work she let slide when they were sick. In her spare time, she wonders if Mulder is planning anything. It would be nice to let someone else do the work for once. Still, she wants him to know how much she appreciates him too.

And before she knows it, it’s Saturday night, and she still hasn’t come up with much of anything. At least she has the babysitting locked down. “My mom’s going to watch Emily and William tomorrow,” she tells Mulder. “So we can have some time alone.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mulder says, and, in response to her inquiring look, he adds, “I called to ask her, and she said you’d already arranged it.”

“Oh,” she says. “Great minds think alike, I guess.”

“Absolutely,” Mulder says. “Do you have a surprise planned for tomorrow, Scully?”

“Sure,” she says. She doesn’t add that if there’s a surprise, it will be a surprise to her, too. He smiles at her. She’s afraid he’s planned something elaborate, something to which anything she can plan in the next few hours won’t possibly measure up.

When he’s gone downstairs to look for a book, she digs through her underwear drawer—maybe there’s something she can wear in there, something special that he hasn’t seen in a while. They don’t often have time to make an occasion out of sex these days; of course, it’s still enjoyable when it’s not an occasion, but since it’s their anniversary, well, she wants it to be at least a little special. A lot of what she finds is depressingly practical, but near the bottom there’s a black set…She’s not even sure when she got it. But it’s pretty. Lace trim, red ribbons at the hips and the cleavage. She picks it up, looks at it. She likes what she sees. She wants Mulder to like her in it, but she thinks it might make her feel good too.

She stuffs it back into the drawer when she hears Mulder coming down the hall, but she’s smiling now. At least she has something planned. Even if it’s not elaborate, it’s special.

Her mom picks the kids up late in the morning, and then it’s just the two of them.

The energy feels different, as soon as the door closes. A day for her and Mulder, with no responsibilities. She feels like a kid playing hooky. She feels delicious. She feels like she wants Mulder to find out what she’s wearing under her t-shirt and jeans.

She thinks he feels the same, from the way he’s looking at her, and that’s before he presses her back against the wall and kisses her. She kisses him back, abandoning herself to it. Today she wants to be exhausted again, but only in the best way.

“So I have to admit,” Mulder says, drawing back from the kiss, “that I didn’t come up with much of a surprise for today. Because I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“I want that too,” she says. “Mine’s only a little surprise. But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure,” he says. “Right now, I want to take you upstairs and make love to you. How does that sound?”

“I like what you’ve got in mind,” she says.

“And we can do that until we get tired of it,” he says, “or until our limbs don’t work any more. Whichever comes first.”

“I don’t think,” she says, “that I’m going to get tired of it.”

He half-carries her up the stairs.

This is what she needed, Scully thinks, as they kiss and kiss and kiss. As they pull at each other’s clothes; she tugs his shirt off and runs her hands down his chest, and he grabs her shirt too, pulling it over her head. And then he stops and looks.

“Scully,” he says. Just that word, just her name, but that and his look are enough. Even before he says, “God, you’re so beautiful.” And he says that again, when he has her jeans off and he’s looking at her. And “You’re so fucking sexy.”

They make love until she feels boneless, utterly sated, more content than she’s been in weeks, and so full of love for him. Then they drag themselves down to the kitchen, where they make a meal out of various leftovers. It’s not exactly a fancy anniversary dinner, but Scully can’t think of anything she’d rather do than be here with him. From the way he’s smiling at her, she can tell that he feels the same.

“So I did get you a little something,” he says, when they’ve finished eating. He opens the freezer, takes it out, and presents it to her. Rocky road ice cream, the good brand, the kind she doesn’t keep in the house because she knows one of two things will happen: the kids will eat it before she gets a chance to, or she’ll have to scarf it down to keep that from happening. But the kind she likes the best.

“Thank you,” she says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says. “And hey…I wanted you to know that I’m proud of you. You do an amazing job with everything, even in crazy weeks like this one.” He smiles at her. “You deserve to feel good about that.”

She didn’t tell him how she was feeling in so many words, but he knew. She doesn’t answer him in so many words either, but she kisses him long and slow.

She eats the ice cream right out of the carton; she offers Mulder some, out of obligation, but he doesn’t take any, except for a little that he licks off her lips. “What time is your mom bringing the kids back?” he asks.

She looks at the clock. “Around seven, I think. She said she’d give them supper. We still have a few hours. Back to bed?”

“You read my mind,” he says.

They make love again, and then they doze next to each other, which is almost as pleasurable, in its own way. She’s so happy they had this day for just them. But she’s truly happy, too, when the doorbell rings and they go down to hug their children hello.

.....

Emily’s really good at baseball. She plays with high schoolers, a lot of the time, even though she’s only in middle school, and she’s the shortest one and the only girl, mostly. She’s William’s favorite baseball player. He likes some other ones too, but Emily’s special because she’s his sister and he actually knows her. The other baseball players he likes he only gets to see from far away.

He also gets to play with her. Even though she’s so good, she’ll always play catch with him. She can throw the ball really fast, he’s seen her, but when they play together she throws it slowly so he can catch it. She helps him practice hitting too, and she’ll run around and catch the balls he hits, even though a lot of them don’t go where he means them to go, and sometimes she has to run a really long way.

“It’s okay,” she’ll tell him. “That’s why you practice. I had to practice a lot, to get to where I am.” Sometimes when Emily says things like that, their dad says that she’s twelve going on twenty-five. William’s not sure what that means, but he thinks it’s a good thing, because he always smiles when he says it.

William wishes he could be as good as Emily, even though she tells him she wasn’t that good when she was six. Everybody in their family likes baseball. They all like to watch it, but William’s the only one who can’t really play it. When Emily practices with just their mom and dad, they can go fast, but when he plays with them, they have to go slow. Emily’s a lot older than him, and mostly he likes that because she can teach him things and stick up for him and they don’t really fight a lot. But sometimes he wishes he could be bigger, so that he could be good at things like she is.

They’re playing catch together in the yard one day when their dad comes outside too. “How’s it going?” he asks them.

“Good, Dad,” Emily says. “I’m trying to show William how to throw the ball overhand. Want to show Dad, William?”

So he tries, but the ball doesn’t go where he wants it to go. It almost goes into Emily’s face, but she ducks. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s hard.”

“That’s okay, Will,” Emily says. “You just have to keep trying.”

“You’ll get it soon, buddy,” their dad says. But William doesn’t know if he will or not. He knows Emily says she had to practice a lot to be good, but he doesn’t remember her ever not being good.

“I guess,” he says softly. They play for a little longer, and then Emily says that she has homework to do, and she goes inside. William sits down on the steps.

His dad sits down next to him. “Everything okay, Will?” he asks.

“I wish I could be good at baseball,” William says. “Everyone else is.”

“You’re still learning,” his dad says. “What matters is that you have fun with it. Do you have fun playing?”

William thinks about it. Sometimes he does, but sometimes he doesn’t, because it’s hard. “I guess I do,” he says. “Usually.”

His dad looks at him for a minute, and then he squeezes his shoulders. “You don’t have to play if it’s not fun,” he says. “You can take a break.” But that just makes William feel worse, like his dad doesn’t think he should keep playing. Because maybe he’ll never be good like Emily. He just shrugs then, and he stays sitting there while his dad goes inside. He bounces the ball up and down, and then it rolls away.

He's watching it when his mom comes outside. “Hey, Will,” she says. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” William says.

“Your dad told me you were feeling a little sad,” she says. “About baseball.” She sits down on the step behind him, and he leans against her legs.

“Emily is so good at it,” he says. “And you and dad are good too. But I’m not.”

She smoothes his hair. “It’s hard sometimes, when you’re younger,” she says. “I remember when I was your age. I wanted to be able to do everything Bill and Missy could do.” That’s her older brother and sister, William knows—Uncle Bill in California, who they sometimes see at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and Aunt Melissa, who died before William was born. “You know how we moved around a lot, right?” William nods. “Missy was so good at making new friends, wherever we went. I wanted to be able to do that too.”

“So what did you do?” William asks.

“Well, I sulked some of the time,” his mom says, and she laughs. “And then I tried to copy whatever she did, but that didn’t work so well either. And finally…I tried doing things I was interested in and finding people who liked to do them too.”

“And that worked?” William asks.

“It did,” his mom says. “Much better than trying to be exactly like Missy.”

William can tell she’s trying to tell him something. “I don’t want to be exactly like Emily,” he says. “It’s just that she’s really good, and I think…I think that’s nice.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” his mom says. “It’s good to have things you want to do, Will. But you shouldn’t get down on yourself if they don’t happen exactly like you expect them to.” She kisses the top of his head. “And there can be different ways of playing baseball. Just like there can be different ways of making friends.”

William doesn’t understand that. There’s a way you’re supposed to play baseball; it’s in the rules. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, think about it,” she says. “First of all, you can play lots of different positions, right?”

“Right,” William says.

“So you might be better at one than at another,” his mom says. “And then there are different reasons you can like to play. Like Emily likes to play with her team. And I just like to play with you and Emily and your dad, so I can spend time with all of you.”

That makes sense, William guesses. “Are you saying I should just play at home?” he asks. “Instead of on a team?”

“Not exactly,” his mom says. “If you want to be on a team, I think you should keep practicing for that. And I’d be happy to help you. But if you’d rather just play with us, that’s okay too. It doesn’t mean you can’t be good at baseball. Or that you can’t love it.” He looks up at her; she’s smiling. “One of the reasons I love baseball is because your dad showed me how to play it. And that’s a really good memory for me. It might not be the reason anyone else loves baseball, but that’s mine. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

William thinks about it. He thinks about going to a baseball game for the first time, with his mom and dad and Emily, and eating lots of popcorn, and all of them wearing matching baseball caps, and cheering so loud. He thinks about Emily playing catch with him, every day sometimes, in the summer. “Yeah,” he says. “I understand.” And he hugs his mom. She hugs him back.

.....

The first time Scully went away for a conference, after they had the kids, she called at least twice each day to check in, to tell them she missed them. (Mulder would make fun at her, if he hadn’t done exactly the same thing.) Now, when Emily’s sixteen and Will’s ten, she’s a little bit more calm about it all. She’s away until Saturday; today’s Thursday, and she told them she’d call this evening, and Mulder doesn’t expect to be hearing from her ahead of schedule.

When he gets home from work, he decides to ask the kids if they have any ideas about what they want for dinner. “Pizza,” Will says. He’s doing his homework at the kitchen table.

That sounds pretty appealing. “Good idea,” Mulder says. “Do you know where Emily is? I’ll check with her too.”

“She went up to her room, I think,” Will says, and, as Mulder turns to go, he adds, “She was mad about something.”

“Mad about something?” Mulder asks. “What do you mean?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know. I asked her what was up and she told me to leave her alone. And I didn’t even do anything.” He looks faintly injured.

“It’s probably not anything you did,” Mulder says. “Thanks for letting me know, though. I’ll check on her.”

He heads upstairs to Emily’s room. The door is pulled closed, and he knocks. “Emily? It’s me. Can I come in?”

“Okay,” she says, and he opens the door. When he sees her face, he can tell that Will was at least partially right: she’s definitely upset about something. He doesn’t think she’s mad, though. She looks more sad.

“Are you okay, Em?” he asks her. She shrugs. “Is something bothering you?” She nods, after a minute. “Want to talk about it?” She’s getting older, and he might not be able to help solve her problems as easily as he once did, but he’ll always try.

“I don’t know,” Emily says. “I’d kind of…I’d rather talk to Mom about it. It’s that kind of thing.”

He’s not one hundred percent sure what that means. “Okay,” he says. “You can talk to her when she calls tonight. Are you all right physically, though?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emily says. “It’s not about menstruation, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He has to smile when she puts it like that, because it was one of the things he was thinking, and because she sounds so much like Scully. “Good to know,” he says. “Well, then…”

“It’s about a boy,” she blurts out, as he’s hovering between staying and going.

“Ah,” he says. He hopes the boy in question hasn’t broken her heart. It seems so early in life for that to be happening, although a part of him knows that he thinks that because she’s his daughter and he wants to keep her safe and happy.

“Well, sort of,” she says. She doesn’t say anything more, but the way she looks at him makes him think that she wants to talk now, not wait until the evening. Scully’s not here, though, so maybe he’ll have to do.

“You sure you don’t want to talk to me?” he asks. “I know some things about boys. As they were when I was one, anyway. Maybe they’ve changed since then.”

Emily almost smiles at that. “I don’t think people really change in how they act,” she says. “Okay, well, it’s…there’s this boy at school. And we’re in a lot of classes together. And we talk sometimes. And…I kind of like him.” The words are soft, like an admission, and Mulder nods, trying to look as understanding as he can. “So we have the spring dance coming up next month, and I thought I would ask him if he wanted to go together. I mean, why not, right?”

“Good for you, Em,” Mulder says. She’s braver in some things, at sixteen, than he’s ever been.

“So I asked him today,” Emily says, “and he said no.”

“Just like that?” Mulder asks. “Just ‘no’? What’s the matter with this guy?”

“It wasn’t just no,” Emily says. “He was nice about it. He just said he was sorry, but he didn’t feel like that about me. I’m not mad at him or anything.”

“I get why you’re upset, though,” Mulder says. “Still, you should be proud of yourself for asking him. That kind of thing’ll stand you in good—”

“That’s not exactly what I’m upset about,” Emily says. “I mean, I am disappointed. I’m just…I was talking to one of my friends after and I started wondering about why. She was saying…well, that maybe it was because of what I’m like in class.”

“What you’re like in class?” Mulder asks.

“Yeah,” Emily says. “Because I always answer a lot of questions. And I talk a lot, when we have discussions. And she said it’s not that boys don’t like it when girls are smart. But they don’t like it when the girls are smarter than them. And that’s just…I mean, I’m not going to stop talking in class. That would be an idiotic thing to do. But I just wonder if that means I won’t ever get a boyfriend.” She’s biting her lip now. She looks young, and confused, and sad.

So maybe Emily’s not mad, but Mulder is. “What kind of friend is this?” he asks. “To tell you something like that.”

Emily shrugs. “She’s not my best friend or anything. But she didn’t say it to be mean. She was being honest.”

“Well, maybe she thinks she was,” Mulder says. “But Em, that’s not something you should be worried about at all. You will meet plenty of people who will love how smart you are. Guys included.”

“How do you know?” Emily asks.

“You’d say your mom was pretty smart, wouldn’t you?” he asks, and Emily nods. “And that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with her. One of many reasons,” he adds. “And if you love someone who’s smart, like that, you can have much better conversations, and…I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to be with someone smart.”

“Yeah, but you guys are older,” Emily says.

“That’s true,” Mulder concedes. “And I will admit that a lot of people in high school don’t really know what they want or where they’re going. But some do. I know you’re one of them.”

“Sometimes, I guess,” she says.

“Sure,” Mulder says. “It’s not always simple. But you were brave enough to ask that guy. And you know you’re not going to stop talking in class, no matter what anyone says. Those things are important, Emily.” She’s watching him, listening. “I bet you’ll meet other people who know those things too. And if you don’t…you won’t be in high school forever, either. There’s a lot more out there.”

“Thank God,” she says, and he chuckles. She smiles too.

“Your mom and I are really proud of the person you are,” he tells her. “And you should be too. Don’t waste your time with anyone who acts like that’s not good enough. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, and she hugs him spontaneously, which she doesn’t do as often as she used to. “Thanks, Dad.”

“What I’m here for,” he says. “Will and I were thinking about getting pizza for tonight. How does that sound to you?”

“Good,” Emily says. “Can we get extra cheese?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “And you can talk to your mom by yourself tonight, if you want to. Will and I will go, after we’re done saying hi.”

“Thanks,” Emily says, and then, after a minute, “I already feel a lot better, though.”

“I’m glad,” he says.

.....

Emily and Will have been sitting in the diner all morning, and even though it’s not crowded or anything, the waiter has been giving them looks. They’ve tried to keep ordering, but there’s a limit to how much you can eat (at least Emily thinks so—she’s not sure about Will, but she feels like it would be irresponsible to let him have a third plate of bacon). And she’s already too amped up for another cup of coffee.

“How much longer do you think it’s going to be?” Will asks.

“I don’t know,” Emily says. “These things take a while.”

He’s quiet, fiddling with his utensils. “I hope Mom’s okay.”

“Mom will be fine,” Emily says quickly. “She said everything looked really good at her last appointment, remember? She wouldn’t lie to us. And she’s got good doctors. And she’s got Dad.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “But still…it’s hard, right? They say it’s hard and it hurts and…” He looks worried.

“I know,” Emily says. “I’m sure she’s…it’s not like a fun day or anything. But she’s done it before, right? With you.” Not with Emily, herself; she knows the whole story now, and sometimes she’s mad about it, but it’s never made a real difference in how she feels about her relationship with her mom, with her dad, with Will, with this baby who’s coming into the world today. “And she was ready to do it again, so that must mean something.”

“I guess,” Will says. “Do you remember it? When I was born.”

“I wasn’t there,” Emily says. “I was at home with Grandma. I don’t think I was worried about Mom or anything. Too young, probably. I was just worried that Mom and Dad were going to love you better than me.”

“They do,” Will says, and she makes a face at him.

“But I came to see you all the next day,” she says, “and I liked you a lot better than I thought I would. And Mom was fine. And she’ll be fine today, too.”

Will nods. “Can we get pancakes?” he asks, after a minute.

She doesn’t feel like arguing with him right now, and besides, pancakes sound good. “Sure.”

“Aren’t we supposed to smoke cigars?” he asks, when they’re eating. “While we’re waiting for the baby. Don’t people smoke cigars?”

“Well, we shouldn’t smoke cigars at all, because it’s disgusting,” Emily says, “but I think that’s for after the baby anyway. And it’s for the dad. He’s supposed to give cigars to people, or something.” She laughs. “I can’t really picture Dad doing that.”

“Nah,” Will says. He pours a lot of maple syrup onto his pancakes. She does the same.

It’s mid-afternoon and she’s lost track of how many meals they’ve had when her phone rings. She sees it’s their dad and grabs it. “Hi! Is the baby here?”

“She’s here,” their dad confirms, and she knows he’s smiling, even though she can’t see it. “She and your mom are doing great.”

“Who does she look like?” Emily asks.

“She’s got your mom’s eyes,” he says. “But brown hair. You can decide for yourself what you think.”

“So we can come over?” Emily says.

“Yeah,” he says. “We can’t wait to see you both.”

“We can’t wait either,” Emily says, and they say goodbye.

She fills Will in while she’s paying for a truly outrageous amount of food, and then they walk over towards the hospital. There’s a florists’s on the way, and they stop there; Will says they should get blue flowers, because their mom likes blue, so that’s what they do.

They make their way in by the visitors’ entrance. Their dad texted her the room number, with directions, and they find it pretty quickly. Will’s carrying the flowers now, so Emily taps at the door. “Come in,” she hears her mom’s voice say, and they do.

It was strange, finding out she was getting a little sister now, when they’d only be in the house together for ten months or so before Emily went off to college. She was excited about it, but sometimes she wondered if she’d be able to be close to the baby the way she was close to Will.

But when her mom says, “Here she is,” and they go over to look at the baby, she decides that was silly. It might not be exactly the same, but she knows she loves her little sister. She knows she’s excited to have her in her life.

“Hi there,” she says. “Hi, sweetie.” She touches one of the baby’s hands.

“Wow,” Will says. “She’s so little.”

Their dad laughs. “That’s what Emily said when she first saw you,” he says.

“Mm-hmm,” their mom says. “Doesn’t seem that long ago, does it?”

“Are you okay, Mom?” Will asks.

She smiles at him. “I’m great, sweetheart. Thank you for asking.” She touches the baby’s head, and she looks so happy.

“Did you figure out the name?” Will asks. They’ve been going back and forth about different ideas.

“Yes,” their mom says. “Susanna.”

“Hi, Susanna,” Will says. Susanna yawns. They stand together and watch her.

#my fic #the x files #msr #family fic #fluff

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missorgana · 4 years

Text

that’s how you get the girl (more or less)

pairing: han solo/leia organa

fandom: star wars (original trilogy)

rating: teen and up

word count: 4881

warning: swearing

summary: Han's kind, and he's an idiot. What a combination. (newspaper reporters!au inspired by nickie’s gorgeous aesthetic. happy very belated birthday @ladyeowyn ♥ really hope you enjoy this love!!)

read on ao3

Han Solo might possibly be the stupidest person on the face of the earth.

There are many things in this world Leia can’t be certain of, but this one, she just knows.

And she definitely didn’t expect to meet him at her job, of all places.

About five years ago, Leia got an intern spot at Cloud City Times, along with her lovable, strangely connected twin brother, Luke.

She didn’t even know he applied til they got their acceptance emails.

Regardless, they did everything together, so Leia didn’t complain.

Their mother always had a fond look in her eyes when checking on them after their bedtime, in their younger years, scolding them with no real irritation when she found them reading Lord of The Rings, flashlight in hand, hidden in a fort of blankets.

She could never really get angry with them, no matter how much trouble they managed to get into.

So, of course, she was over the moon when the twins told her the news.

On their first, they were reminded by her to work together, and not get into their ‘usual squabbles’, a comment that made Leia scrunch up her nose.

She still kissed them goodbye, though.

And Leia worked hard to impress their boss, she really did, and she can’t really speak on Luke’s behalf, but she’s sure he did too.

She knows him too well to think anything else, her brother doesn’t do anything half-assed. They are Skywalkers, after all, as their father always said.

The internship eventually earned them both an actual, stable job, and six months ago, the boss appointed Leia as managing editor.

And she held a lot of pride in that, you know?

This essentially means she was put in charge of hiring and promoting, or in worse cases, firing staff.

Luke teased her for being his boss, he was proud of her, but also loved pushing her buttons every once in a while.

And if Leia didn’t know better, it might look like her brother is doing just that to her now.

Yesterday, Luke asked her to take this guy in for an interview, someone he apparently met in his weird board game club or whatever.

He insisted that this new friend of his needed a job, insisted he had some good ideas, too, and Leia decided to put her faith in him.

Oh boy, was she wrong to do so.

Because in front of her, he’s sitting, Han Solo, the man her brother said was practically born to have this job.

If Leia has to be completely honest with herself, cause her mother always valued honesty, her first thought when she saw him made her rather flustered.

But can you blame her, really?

He was polite and shook her hand, his own wearing rings on every finger, and showcasing a smile that could almost cross the line to being a smirk,

This guy proceeded to shower her with compliments, rambling about how he’s a huge fan of hers, highlighting the pro-abortion piece she published a couple of months prior, and even saying her office was comfortable, not crammy and dull like those in the movies.

Him being insanely attractive doesn’t help Leia’s professional and social ability, either.

She never thought herself as one to swoon over someone she just met, yet here she is.

Leia had always liked her partners tall, her ex-girlfriend Amilyn was more than a head taller than herself, and so is this Han, and he still has some sort of sparkle in his eyes she doesn’t really know what to do with.

All polite greetings and various compliments aside, Leia has to retain some level of authority, so she starts the interview, the usual questions of past experience, ambitions, strengths and weaknesses, you know the drill.

And, well, the conversation turns out interesting, to say the least.

“So, Han, you got any past experience in the field?”

He blinks at her, pulls a lock of hair behind his ear before he replies, “Ah, well, not exactly.”

Leia waits expectantly but the man in front of her seems done with his sentence.

Man of few words, huh. This is going to be a long interview, then.

“Would you care to elaborate?” she asks, already impatient. His good looks are one thing, but not a basis for employment.

He smiles again. Dammit, Leia, pull yourself together.

“You talk just like in your writing, I’m impressed,” he tells her, reaching out to presumably take a closer look at the framed picture of her parents on her desk, “I, uh, how much did Luke tell you about me?”

Before Leia can answer, a shattering sounds, and Han’s face in a state of shock.

He fumbles his fingers where he dropped the photo.

“Jesus, that, uh- wauw. It’s real glass?”

She just has to do a double a take. Leia’s not surprised as much as confused, switching her gaze to the photograph and shards of glass now inhabiting the industrial Ikea rug.

Han looks embarrassed.

He still tries a smile, this one most likely one he uses to charm himself out of possible incidents, she bets, or accidents, as in this case.

Leia just huffs. She can’t help but give him a smile back and a simple shrug.

He’s an idiot.

With this realisation, Leia relaxes in her seat once again, while Han runs a hand through his hair anxiously, “Oh f- I mean, damn. I’m so sorry. I’ll get you a new frame, I really thought I had this, of course my dumb luck-”

“Don’t.”

She puts her hand up to further get her point across.

“It’s a frame, Han. The photo’s still intact. Don’t worry about it.”

Still, he picks up the photograph and hands it to her, appearing to hold further apologies back, and she nods a thanks.

“Look, uh, to answer your question - I got experience a couple years back. Thing is, well, I exposed… some stuff. My rep ain’t the best cause of that.”

His hand gestures are large, vivid, quick, and Leia wishes he would catch his breath.

“He deserved it, though! And Luke’s trying to help me out, honestly, he’s the nicest, ever. Please believe me.” he finally finishes, adjusts his wristwatch and just… looks at her.

It’s silent for a while, because Leia doesn’t really know what to answer, and she wishes she could go against her gut feeling.

This kind of charm sucks her in and she scolds herself mentally. Will never admit to it. At least she’ll have someone pretty to look at.

“Luke believes in you.” she tells him simply, “And I trust my brother. If you got a portfolio, I’ll look it over. Just, please, stop looking like you’re terrified of me.”

And Han releases a breath, nods decidedly, “Hell yeah I got one. Okay, you won’t regret this. Seriously.”

Leia gives him a smile, exceptionally warm for someone she’s only known for about thirty minutes. Don’t even think of judging her right now.

“I’ll hold you on that.”

…

Two weeks pass by since Leia hired Han, and she has to admit, she’s positively surprised.

Han’s an exceptional writer, she thinks, after having three published pieces so far, and she feels a sense of pride, almost.

Thing is, well, he needs a metaphorical kick or two when it comes to work.

Not actually working, it’s not like he’s lazy, but let’s say Leia wonders if his definition of a deadline is something different than hers.

Every piece so far, the first draft comes into her hands at least two days after she told him to. And his charm aside, it’s getting on her nerves.

She doesn’t want to act over powerful, but warnings are given where warnings are due, and he always apologises profusely, trying to lighten the mood with one of his bad jokes.

Oh, the cluelessness of him.

The way Han has that smile permanently plastered on her face, it’s a weird combination of someone having the looks of a cocky bastard that makes every swoon, and the personality of a clumsy high school dropout who somehow always ends up saving the day.

And he definitely doesn’t have a problem making friends.

Han’s way too nice.

Everyone’s nice here, don’t get her wrong, but Leia finds it strange, almost.

It’s come to a point where he tells her of his adventure to another department when their own printer broke down, and he casually mentions someone named Boba, Leia ultimately hiding her confused unknowing of who he’s talking about.

How does he even have the time to meet so many people?

But Leia can’t lie about the fact that she enjoys this weird dynamic they’ve started.

He teases her, in a professional manner that is, always guessing, and always somehow hitting it spot on, what her newest piece is about.

He also knocks on her office door more than anyone else, untimely or not. When she tells him she’s in the middle of something he takes the cue, thankfully, but she suspects he’s waited outside for whatever call she had to end.

Three weeks pass by and it’s like Han’s living in her mind.

She’d suspect of him being a mind reader, if she believed that sort of stuff, and if Han wasn’t so impulsive and strangely dim in certain areas.

Basically, she’s seeing, and hearing, a lot more of him than she expected to.

And whether this is a curse or a blessing, well, Leia is troubled.

Because more than anything, Han is turning out so incredibly annoying.

She hates that thought, because what she finds annoying is not, per say, annoying, not in a traditional sense.

He’s late to everything, yes, but he’s extremely genuine.

Discussions with him is always something Leia looks forward to, and his feedback to her is honestly excellent. It’s almost like he changes personality when he’s deeply concentrated in work, always has to the right constructive criticism, always the missing word you’re looking for.

He works most nights late, he casually told her of that fact, and if she shows even a hint of annoyance towards him, he leaves whatever the case is be and greets her the next morning with coffee.

How’s he learned how she takes her coffee so quickly, anyway?

What shifted their dynamic even more was that Leia and Han both started working late at the office.

First happened on a Friday, where she went to the coffee machine and spotted him still staring at his screen.

This evening encounter ended up as a routine, and eventually, Han more or less moved into her office, until they were both done with whatever task at hand.

And, after five weeks, Leia has now found the most annoying thing about Han Solo.

She likes him.

Leia supposes this is a natural progression, after the weird first job interview, finding he possesses charm in spades, and where she definitely couldn’t deny that he is, in fact, attractive.

Actually, he fits her type completely. And that can’t be happening.

Leia keeps trying to look for signs that he’s actually a douche, but, tragically, not the case.

Han cares about this job, minor flaws aside, and if his interactions with Luke is any indication, he cares about people, too.

He’s kind, and he’s an idiot. What a combination.

Tuesday morning, Han knocks on her door as usual, which is why Leia just yells for him to come in, zero surprise in her tone.

“General,” he greets her, a nickname he came up with on his first day and never explained, and it makes Leia roll her eyes, “You eat breakfast yet?”

Well, that was new.

Leia looks up, Han holding a brown paper bag in his arms, along with the carefully balanced coffee cups, as per usual.

She leans back, trying to hold a smile back but probably failing, “No, now that you ask. Tell me, what would’ve you done if I had?”

Han laugh and sits down, clearly already at home, and starts presenting her with the meal, “We could’ve eaten it for lunch, of course. Multipurpose, right?”

Leia scoffs back at him, but grabs the coffee with a nod as a thank you.

“I do have to take a phone call, though. You wanted to discuss your piece for next week?”

He smirks at her again, “You must be a mind reader, General. But yes, it can wait though. You’re a busy woman, I’ll just take my half of our splendid meal and leave you be.”

Han works a fake cry of despair into his words, and walks out the door, the sulky look way too dramatic for anyone to believe it, but there’s no point in telling him that.

“That’s appreciated.” she tells him, shaking her head fondly at his act, “Remember the deadline this time, now would you?!”

“Of course. It’s me.”

His look of disbelief is given no more than a raise of Leia’s eyebrows.

This man will be the death of her.

…

Out of the many discoveries Leia’s made about Han, her latest is that he’s, in fact, a clingy person.

Very clingy.

This is not something bad in her mind, maybe because he’s so likable.

She’s had to remind him and Luke of their duties a few times, when they were too occupied looking at photos of Han’s dog - Chewie, another thing she has no idea what means - on his flip phone.

Han’s simultaneously the first and last person she expected to still have a flip phone.

And, turns out, Lando and Han dated back in high school. Not that that’s something to think about too much. Leia doesn’t overthink.

Regardless, Han tends to hang around other people for as long as humanly possible.

To begin with, she didn’t have the heart to say something, maybe, possibly, because of her crush, but not really.

Stupid crushes. Leia shouldn’t have crushes.

Now that they’re comfortable with each other, Han clings even more, believe it or not, only difference is Leia is not afraid to tell him to back off when she’s going to a meeting.

And she did figure she’ll have to, well, keep her distance and let whatever she’s feeling go away.

Dating a coworker would be extremely unprofessional, at least in Leia’s mind.

She doesn’t know really if there’s any rules about it. Might be some restrictions, she figures.

And dating Han would require some more patience than what she’s capable of, she thinks, and also that the feeling was mutual.

Han Solo is incredibly hard to read.

During their late night work sessions, they’ve had some, what can you say, heartfelt moments. Honest, raw perhaps?

It surprised her when they happened.

Here, Han’s smirk disappeared, and a relaxed smile took its place. His smirk seemed, sometimes, as something forced, but this, Leia somehow knew was genuine.

He seems more thoughtful about his words, it seems, when they’re one on one.

It’s weird. Not that it means anything.

To begin with he told mostly of Chewie and his car, and he then keeps on telling her on a semi-daily basis how she definitely has to see it, maybe go for a drive because he assures her it has the best motor and perfect glossed paintwork and other car stuff she pretends she cares about.

One conversation went to his high school girlfriend, Qi’ra, and eventually of his more or less absent parents.

Han’s been fending for himself since the age of sixteen, and honestly, that doesn’t surprise Leia at all.

He’s clumsy, an idiot, yes, but he seems like someone who can feel at home anywhere, or with anyone.

She might be imagining that maybe, possibly, he could feel at home with her, but when the thought crosses her it’s stupid. Just because they’re more comfortable than someone should be with their boss doesn’t mean anything.

And well, about these unexplainable feelings of hers towards this dummy, Leia suspects he might be interested in someone else.

Someone else being her twin brother. Now listen, Leia’s not jealous, okay? She hates thinking that way.

Because Han takes a liking to everyone, but especially to Luke.

They’re seeming, at least, to get into a lot more trouble lately - not anything major, just with her, because a common interest is teasing her, apparently.

And Han hangs around Luke’s desk a whole lot, no matter how many times Leia points it out with a raised eyebrow.

He does go when she’s told them a third time, sending a salute her way.

Come to think of it, they’re practically attached by the hip by now.

Luke’s board game club meets twice a week, so Leia can only wonder how much time the two spend together, outside of work.

And her brother always mentions some anecdote or movie or weird fact Han’s told him, excited as always, and as much as Leia gets a pit in her stomach, it’s adorable.

“Have you seen Han’s car?” and when she shakes her head, he looks bewildered, “Leia! You need to see it! He’s like, customized almost everything. It’s some old classic car, can’t remember the company, wait, let me look it up...”

Her brother’s tales of him frame him as close to the standard of a greek god, or something, and it’s hilarious, to be honest.

Like, Leia can tell his idolisation of Han’s clouding his judgement. He’s definitely not as wise as he’s making her brother think, at least.

Similarly, Han talks of how Luke constantly beats him in everything, despite his fine tuned skills he otherwise loves to brag about.

“I let the kid win in chess, though, like, that’s my homefield, you know?” he tells her with a wink, and Leia just laughs, because she’s pretty sure Han isn’t protecting her brother’s dignity with this one.

And Leia has to, finally, admit to herself that she needs to do something.

She has to get over this crush of hers, because she doesn’t have a chance. And she values her brother’s happiness higher than her own.

Leia figures Luke has more patience for Han’s shenanigans than herself, and maybe just a more similar personality, really.

She’s a lot more organized, she thinks, maybe she’s a bit uptight, okay, but that isn’t bad, is it? Why’s Han Solo making her doubt herself so much?

The irony, twins falling for the same guy. Ridiculous.

Anyway, Leia decides to text Han, asks him if they can talk the next morning. Before working on her own heartbreak, she’s gotta make sure he knows she’s got her brother’s back.

And yes, she’s got his phone number, she’s got all the staff members’ numbers, though. Don’t you dare get into that right now.

And Han, like the weird, dreamy guy he is, answers with the usual “‘Course, General”, followed by a winky face. Dear God.

The sooner this is out of the world, the better.

…

Before Leia knows it, the following morning comes and she’s finishing an email when the usual knock sounds.

Han doesn’t even wait for an answer this time, just appears and fumbles with the door handle, trying his hardest not to spill their coffee.

She simply gives him a look and the “You know, usually, regular human beings wait for an answer after knocking.” question.

He raises one eyebrow.

“I’m not even close to regular, General. How could you underestimate me like that!” he cries out with a laugh. “And you did say you wanted to discuss something.”

Leia sighs, yeah, she can’t cover it up with a joke, in the end. Han settles in the seat opposite her desk, giving her a suspicious look.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” She sips the coffee, way too hot, fuck. Her burnt tongue’s halting her words, but she speaks up again regardless, “Not exactly, no.”

His brows furrow. She can’t really tell if he’s confused or worried or disbelieving, he’s always doing that frown whenever something bothers him, though.

“I know I got my piece to you late last week, I- again. I’m learning that, uh, time thing, you know. Just, please don’t fire me. I really need this job and-”

“Han!” she has to outburst, because he’s rambling.

He visibly has to catch his breath, puts on a semi good smirk on again, Jesus, and straightens his back a little.

“Sorry. I’m all ears.”

As much as she’s gotten to know him, she still wonders how many of his mannerisms are put on and how many are genuine.

He certainly flails with his arms a lot whenever he tries to explain something. That can’t be faked, right?

It’s the amount of charm that, well, sometimes seems plastered on.

Not that it’s not working, because boy, it sure does, but if Leia’s being honest, she’d much rather have their solemn, relaxed late conversations.

There, she feels like he’s being more himself, whatever that may be, because she actually doesn’t know this man very well.

She wants to. Maybe. Yeah, no, she does, is that embarrassing? Sue her.

He’s not even the mysterious kind of guy she saw in those stupid shows when she was fourteen, he’s just the right amount of off, compared to her current social circle.

Leia could spend ages trying to describe him, still wouldn’t justify her feelings for him to herself, whatever.

“I didn’t want to see you because of something work-related.” she finally tells him, and the frown reappears on his face, but Leia continues, “I just want to make sure we understand each other.”

Han rustles a bit in his jeans pocket but pulls nothing out, slicks his hair back like he does way too many times than someone should, probably.

He tries an unsure smile again, “I’m not sure I know where you’re going with this, General.”

And he turns a couple of rings on his fingers, presumably because he’s still nervous about where this is going, so Leia has to cut the chase, already, dammit.

“Okay, well, you and Luke hang out a lot. Seems like you like each other.”

Now Han’s mannerisms seems to slow down, he gives her, once more, a slightly lifted eyebrow, replying, “I mean, yeah? Luke’s great. You wanna talk about Luke?”

Leia nods. “I know this is weird, but honestly, since I don’t, really, know you outside of here I might as well get it done here.”

She leans back in her seat, searching for any clues that he wants to say something, but he keeps quiet.

“I love my brother, and I can tell you’re making him happy, but just because I like your work, and well, I like you as a person as well, doesn’t mean that I’ll give you any mercy if you even think about hurting him.” Leia nods to herself, thinking she got that out alright - right? Han, however, seems even more confused than before.

He tilts his head a bit and looks at her for a while.

She doesn’t really know what to do, then, leaning forward again and resting her arms on the table. “You understand where I’m going with this?”

“I think so, General.”

“Good.”

“Tell me, you think I’m flirting with your brother?”

Leia blinks at him, “I- I do. That’s what you’re doing. I hope this isn’t too personal, you really are a friend to me, but as I said-”

“No, no, no. Leia.” he says, and she has to admit she’s taken back by that, because when’s the last time he’s not called her by a nickname? First time they met, probably.

“Fuck.” Han suddenly exclaims, and his face quickly changes, “F- I mean, excuse my language. Anyway. Damn, I’m really bad at this, aren’t I?”

And honestly, Leia now has zero idea what he’s saying. It’s like they’re speaking two different languages, because she’s never been this dumbfounded, she thinks.

“Bad at what?”

Han shakes his head, scratches his neck, almost in despair, “Seriously, I didn’t think this would happen. Shit, this is my fault. I’m so sorry for the confusion, but Luke’s just my friend.”

She fights not to narrow her eyes at him, half suspecting his statement to be a lie, out of embarrassment.

“Han, I know you tell me I’m intimidating sometimes, but I’m serious.”

“But I’m serious, General.”

Leia’s almost getting frustrated, and throws up her in despair, because what? What’s he trying to say, or run from, maybe? This man’s impossible.

“Leia- I’m sorry. You know what, I’ll go, okay? Sorry. I just- Luke’s advice didn’t work, but please don’t blame him-”

“Advice?” she’s afraid she snaps at him at that, but he seems unfazed, half out of his chair and stopping his movement.

What on earth is he talking about, now?

“I, well. I asked him about you, and tried to spend more time with you, because he said you’re not that big on, you know, elaborate wooing, or whatever. And coffee!” Now, excuse Leia’s language, but what the fuck.

“What?”

Han sits down again, ruffling his hair, looking at her with what seems like a million thoughts running through his head, and honestly, that’s exactly how Leia’s head is right now.

“You like coffee, right? Or did I mistake that, Jesus. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward with coming into your office, I-”

“Han, are you telling me you asked my brother for advice on how to… woo me?”

And the man in front of her nods, a few too many times, looks down and up at her and around the room and out of the window, and fuck, Han’s a mess.

Leia leans back. This cannot be happening.

Well, she’s not complaining. No, not at all.

She didn’t expect this for the life of her, though, and that’s why she’s at a loss for words at the moment.

By some unknown force in her life pulling this idiot into her life, making him so goddamn likable, making her have a crush after being comfortably single for a while, he’s been spending time with her brother because he wants to know her?

She almost wants to laugh, it’s ridiculous, laughable, if she wasn’t so lost for him. And there’s nothing wrong with that, she’ll have to get her brain to stop fighting her.

“Are you angry at me? Please don’t be! I, okay, Luke’s so great and like, dammit, I feel bad- If you’re offended I understand, believe me.” he says, finally settles his eyes on her again. “I know it’s unprofessional to flirt with your boss, anyway, so-”

“Did you ask Luke to hype you up?”

Han looks embarrassed. “Well, uh, maybe. A little bit?”

Leia nods, and now, she has to smile. Genuinely, getting continuously warmer, “You know I’m not that into cars, right?” and damn, she’s never seen him look so beat.

She almost, immediately, regrets those words, but continues regardless, because surely this situation can only benefit them, now. Screw whatever dating policies that may or may not be existing, she’ll look them up after this whole mess is cleared.

“I’m into you, though. Like, you didn’t have to enlist my brother to help you, but I appreciate the effort.” she tells him with a laugh.

And Han morphs into a look of shock. It’s almost like he’s going through every state of emotion at the same time.

“Are you serious?”

“Why else would I say it, Han?”

“Well- good point General.” he fumbles with this rings again, looks at her in that pondering way again, like he’s expecting this to be some sort of practical joke.

She finds his utter confusion adorable, almost, and scoffs at herself.

It’s stupid, this way he thought of wooing her, in his own words, but she gets it, somehow. This is unprofessional.

She’s stupid, because she shouldn’t be swooned by him so quickly, but also she’s not stupid, because this dumbass likes her and she likes him, and this one time, Leia decides not to argue with her own head.

Why would she do that, anyway, when Han’s admitted he tried to flirt with her, and they shared most of their life stories with each other, and seriously, they could, well, get on with other activities?

Not here, though. Obviously not.

Leia’s still a professional, mind that. She doesn’t have to be that after work, though, right?

She wants to shake her head at Luke for agreeing to Han’s schemes, but that can wait. That can for sure wait.

Screw her idea of professionality, then.

“I don’t know anything about the company’s policies on… this. You mind if I come back to you on that?” she asks him, still smiling, and the way he’s smiling back to her, now, he’s turning on all his charm, but also, probably, realizing that he doesn’t really have to.

He’s almost acting like an excited puppy, God, Leia’s not sure how complicated this will be, but she’s prepared to take that fight.

Han’s to the point of almost dancing in his seat.

Her patience is practically bulletproof by now, anyway.

“Not at all.”

“And- well, are you doing anything after work?”

Han shakes his profusely.

Leia bites her lip, nods certainly in her confidence.

“You got something we can do? Like, I guess, a date? Other than car talk?”

“Oh, you bet.”

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hope-for-olicity · 5 years

Text

Leaves of Change 1/?

Felicity Smoak returns to her small hometown of Silver Lake just in time for the Harvest Fest, she came home to get grounding and figure out what she wants to do next the last thing she expected was that she’d want to stay.

Happy Belated Birthday to my dear friend @stephswims! This one is for you! Thanks so much to @mel-loves-all for the truly stunning edit. Also full disclosure, I’m Canadian so Thanksgiving will be October.

Each chapter will follow a Fictober prompt, I can’t guarantee that I’ll post daily like last year but I will post regularly. I hope you enjoy. The story will also be available on A03.

1. “It will be fun, trust me.”

Felicity loved the sound of the leaves crunching beneath her feet as she walked through the forest. Her mother’s house was built in front of a forest, always giving it a mysterious feel. It had been years since she had been home in Silver Lake in the Fall. While she loved living in the city there would always be certain aspects of small-town life she missed. Silver Lake in the Fall was near the top of that list.

She stopped for a moment to enjoy the quiet. Felicity spent the last ten years working at what she thought was her dream job in the city, she gave 150%. She missed birthdays, holidays and worked countless hours of unpaid overtime hoping to be recognized and finally get a promotion. She knew was more qualified than the people, all men, who had been promoted above her. She was in a male-dominated field so she hoped it wasn’t sexism but when her colleague who she knew was all talk and little action got promoted to be her boss, it was the last straw. She handed in her resignation. She deserved better and she was going to get it.

Sadly, it was harder to find a job than she thought. Felicity didn’t want to just take any job and be back at square one. So she decided to come home. She’d been remiss in visiting the single mother who raised her in the past. Plus, being home gave her grounding, reminding her who she was and what she wanted in life.

Besides seeing her mother, Felicity’s high school best friend Caitlin also settled in Silver Lake. She ran a coffee and donut place, Felicity smiled as she remembered this was her next stop, she had worked up an appetite.

~~~~~

Oliver loved the Fall. New beginnings and the new school year. If someone had told him that he would become a teacher when he was in high school, he never would have believed it. But he loved teaching his young grade two students. Most couldn’t wait to come to school and he couldn’t wait to see them.

“Mr. Queen, welcome back.” Oliver smiled at his best friend and principal John Diggle as he greeted him at the door.

“Mr. Diggle,” Oliver chuckled, “I was in an all-day meeting with you yesterday, it hasn’t been that long.”

“Today’s the big day, you can feel the place buzzing with excitement to learn. And with our new plans for the year, this will be the best yet. Fall is a new beginning, you never know what might happen.” Mr Diggle turned to wave at students who were shouting out, “Hey, Mr Diggle,” as they walked past.

Oliver smiled as he headed into his classroom. He looked around at the empty desks, soon to be filled. He couldn’t lie he was disappointed in the minimal decorating he’d had a chance to do over the last two days. Oliver sighed, remembering his mother’s primary school classrooms. As a child, Oliver had spent a great deal of time in his mother’s classroom, she taught grade three but she far exceeded him in the decorating department. He planned to display his students work but for now, the room looked a little bare. He hoped his enthusiasm would make up for that with his students. He was the only male teacher in the school and he was determined not to be shown up.

As the bell rang Oliver prepared himself to meet his new class.

~~~~~

The welcome bell clanged as Felicity entered Caitlin’s shop from Main Street. The place was hopping in the morning. She could hear a top 40 radio station in the background as people picked up their coffee in their own to-go cups to start their days. Felicity held back and watched the busy. She had nowhere to be so she wanted to let those rushing off to work grab their coffees first.

She grabbed one of the empty seats by the window, watching the crowd dwindle. She was sad that she didn’t recognize more people, this was her hometown, where had everyone gone?

Finally, the last customer left, Felicity headed up to the cash. “I’ll take a MEGA coffee and a donut with sprinkles. I really NEED sprinkles in my life right now.”

“Felicity freaking Smoak!! I didn’t know you back!” Caitlin rushed out from behind the counter to give Felicity a hug. She pulled back and took a good look at Felicity. “Looking good girl. So nice to have you home. I got your email saying you were coming home and I maintain what I said, their loss. You are the best. You will find a job that’s much better suited for you but now - I get to have my best friend home and I’m not complaining!”

“Aww, thanks, Caitlin. I so appreciate your support and understanding.” Felicity watched as Caitlin went back behind the counter to grab two ceramic mugs of coffee and two donuts.

Felicity gestured to the table by the window, “time for a break with me?”

“You bet! Grab the coffees from the counter, I’ll bring the donuts.”

Despite not seeing each other as often as they would like, Felicity was glad she and Caitlin maintained their close relationship despite the distance. While their lives had travelled in different directions, the people they were had not changed. “How are Ronnie and the kids?”

“Great! Ronnie’s medical practice is doing well, he took on a young new doctor this year, giving him and us more free-time. Today was the first day of school, Ronnie took them. Steph is in grade two and Molly is in grade one. He sent pics, let me show you.” Caitlin hauled out her phone to show the pics Ronnie texted.

“Oh my! They grow so fast! I can’t wait to see them.”

“They will be over the moon to see you. Molly is always begging to visit aunt Felicity in the city. She wants to be you when she grows up.”

Felicity blushed, she wondered if Molly would change her mind once she learned aunt Felicity was unemployed. “We will have to plan something. I’m not sure how long I’m staying but I’m hoping to stay through Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, that is wonderful! You will be here for all the Fall Harvest Fest events!”

“What Fall Harvest Fest events?” Felicity was intrigued. She loved the Fall, this sounded like a great distraction from her problems.

Caitlin jumped up to grab a flyer. “I’m on the organizing committee. We began the Harvest Fest about three years ago and each year we’ve added more events. It’s fun for the town and it brings in tourists. See,” Caitlin hands Felicity the flyer.

“Pumpkin carving, pie contest, the biggest pumpkin contest, craft sale, opening harvest dance, kids events, Little Miss Harvest Fest pageant, fireworks, closing dance, wow, this is quite the list.” Felicity was impressed. “I wonder why my mother never mentioned this.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t she’s on the organizing committee with me this year. Maybe she didn’t want you to be sad to miss it, everyone knows you love the Fall, Felicity. Maybe you could enter the pumpkin pie contest!” Caitlin winked at her.

Felicity laughed. “We both know that I’m a colossal failure in the kitchen, but I can cheer her on from the sidelines. When does this all start, anyway?” Felicity looked down at the flyer for dates.

“Starts tomorrow night, with the opening dance. You have to come!”

Caitlin had the look in her eye like she would not take no for an answer. While Felicity was exciting for Harvest Fest going to a dance in Silver City while single seemed a little risky. This was the type of town where everyone married young, she didn’t want to be the wallflower standing in the corner alone. “I don’t know. I just got back and I don’t really know anyone anymore. Plus, I don’t dance….I don’t think…”

“Agh no, you are coming to this dance Felicity Smoak. You know me and Ronnie and the whole town will be there. It will be fun, trust me.”

“Okay, I’ll go but if the place is full of married couples I’m done. You and Ronnie don’t need me as your third wheel.”

“You won’t regret this, you never know who you’ll run into.”

Felicity recognized the mischievous glint in her friend’s eyes, she hoped she didn’t have anything to worry about.

Thanks so much for reading! Tagging a few people. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged.

@memcjo @stephswims @it-was-a-red-heeler @cruzrogue @mel-loves-all @tdgal1 @vaelisamaza @onceuponarrow @msbeccieboo @lucyyh @julieofrandomfandoms

#Leaves of Change #olicity fanfiction #alternate universe #oliver x felicity #fictober19 #MyFanfic

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migleefulmoments · 4 years

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"Hahaha. A friend pointed this out. W online shops too!" What does this even mean?! I don't know anyone in 2020 who doesn't online shop besides my 80 year old grandparents because they refuse to learn how to use a computer 😂 I don't get how Will, a 30 something year old man, online shopping is worthy enough for Abby to comment on it. I'm sure Chris does it too. And Darren.

On Nov 5, Darren wrote this post and the cc fandom lost their shit.

They decided that organizing 10 costumes for multiple events in two different states for two different people was not worthy of acknowledgment- especially since they wore several purchased costumes. They spent the next 30-ish days mocking her “online shopping skills” like the petty idiots they are and now they bring it up two months later.

Anonymous asked: this is funny, C posted a photo of beard, D posted photos with the beard. Almost like they were sitting next to each other and saying “ok ok I will say this”

ajw720 answered: The only difference, C controls his SM and the bearding, D does not, but they knew the Halloween post was coming when C posted his belated b-day wishes (not that he acknowledged they were late).

It really is, if you can remove the very human, tragic element, like a script for a really bad D Movie. C posts “Happy Birthday, Babe!” a day after the man’s actual b-day and “D” praises his fake bride for MAKING TEN costumes. Sure praise her if she actually designed them and sat with her sewing machine. No, she went online and ordered things (I doubt she even went to a store). And 3 couple costumes were cheap frankly. The only thought was how narcissistic she could be in their execution (as @flowersintheattic254pointed out even the Mario costume had a reason, it was a reminder of Japan and the fake encagement by referring to the ad that paid for their trip there).

And seriously how are people not questioning that she spent the entirety of her month picking TEN costumes? Who has time for this? I know, i know, a person whose only role in life is to play fake plus one.

I am just so tired by D in particular being utterly dragged down by the useless dead weight by his side and his team’s sole ambition to promote her and make her sound like a decent person.

If they wanted to praise her, maybe they should have forced her to participate in the zero waste initiative instead of sitting drinking by the pool or have her volunteer to help young girls who have been kicked out of their homes, or have been raped. Or pick any cause and truly volunteer her time to promote it. If she is not going to actually get a job and pursue a career, please force her to do something that is actually of value and contribute something good to the world. But to praise her for picking TEN costumes?

Praise that comes from a man who this year alone won three awards, is starring in a show he created and wrote the music for, has his first big movie premiere this week, is exec producer and star of a huge show on N/etflix, just announced his starring role with 2 A++ lists actors next spring on Broadway, celebrated the 5th anniversary of the festival he created, volunteered his time for the zero waste initiative, performed at several charity events, and was just yesterday name limited series actor of the decade. Where is the praise for him from his “bride”? He at least deserves it.

How do they not see how ridiculous it is for someone with D’s accomplishments in 2019 alone praise a person for purchasing TEN costumes for Halloween? And stans, how do you accept that this is right or normal. You really know nothing about him and have such little respect for him as a person if you continue to accept the character his idiotic team has created on his behalf. It is so far from the person he is and that he generally holds himself out to be when given the opportunity.

This isn’t about being a “gay fetishist” or “hating woman” this is about wanting for D to be fairly and accurately represented and no longer forced to participate in this stupid, life sucking game to promote a person that contributes absolutely nothing to the world. If you want to have a strong female role model, there are so many, i’ve talked about a few in the past few days (thus far Nancy, Lea, and Phoebe) and will continue to do so, but please stop worshiping a person whose sole reason you are speaking about her is her connection to D, even if you refuse to accept it is fake.

klainecentric Finished reading the funniest ig story of the day, the qween being praised for sitting in front of either a sewing machine or computer...bravo your majesty qween....your my hero well done.👏👏. And all I can think of is how irrelevant the statement D made about being an emotional horder, being a very private person and finally D saying he's lazy when it comes to social media, I'm internally screaming in frustration because yeah we know D wouldn't have written a post praising that lazy good for nothing waste of space but he's coming across as a lier and it's extremely damaging to his character as a person. I absolutely hate lying and every time another "private" moment is posted to the world is another small piece that's chipped away from what D has originally stated about privacy. PBB, nobody cares about your cheap arse highly flammable costumes you buy online, did you forget about your piano baby adult strip club. I'm sure there are still plenty of people out there you can hire to rub and flaunt their flanges all over the beer taps, why don't you keep busy on that instead. If you want to make costumes, I'm sure you can sew some mighty fine titty tassels together. It'll be cheap nasty, sound familiar.

souly So, let me get this straight. We should all praise a person for going online, looking up different costumes in online stores, putting those in their shopping basket and hitting “buy”? Because I do that at least once a week with other stuff. Do I get praised for that now? Pretty please? I’m doing good work there and buy a lot of stuff, therefore I must be the best person ever!

notes-from-nowhere You’re my Queen. Please, love me.

souly

(I think I got it right. I’m getting the hang of what said person is doing. Wheee! ;))

notes-from-nowhere You nailed it 🤣

ajw720 Yesterday I got a delivery of car food. And instead of his usual seafood mix up greats, I got him shrimp flavor. I’m awesome!!!!!

souly Oh, hey! I think we should all take pictures of whatever we bought online during the week or month and make individual posts on all of our social media accounts about it. Because, you know…

cassie1022 I picked up stuff I ordered online at Target and PetSmart. Does that count? Should I receive accolades because my cat will have fresh litter to do her business on?

souly Only if you post the pictures to prove it! ;)

ajw720 As soon as I get home. Pictures forthcoming. Shrimp cat treats and I also got a burgundy blanket for my new comforter!!! Life goals!!!!!!!!!!!

souly Okay, so, let’s see… What did I buy online during the past month that can be shared as pictures? Some things are gifts, so I obviously can’t post anything about those yet. But I think these here are safe.

Let’s start with one of my fav new shirts. (Excuse the grainy quality. I had to quickly edit it for privacy reasons. :p And yes, that’s a butterfly mirror.)

The rest are behind the cut to save your dash from drowning in too many pictures. ;)

cheekyface72 You’re my queen from now on…

ajw720 I think emmy/sag/gg/CC winner DC should write a post @soulypraising your awesome, amazing, unparalleled online shopping skills! You earned that praise. That cat toy is particularly spectacular.

*********************

Just A Taste of M’s Amazing Online Shopping Skills that are worthy of such Praise

ajw720

Super Mario with inflatable Dragon $54.66 (x)

Princess Peach $78.99 (x)

chrisdarebashfulsmiles. i can’t

flowersintheattic254. When you add the fact that the wedding was sponsored so heavily, and her history of outfits I think it shows Mi@rren is something that’s always been done very much ‘on the cheap’.

From work vacays (honeymoon included), RC ‘glue gun’ looks, thrift shoes and subsidized weddings.

It’s BUDGET BEARDING!!!

leka-1998. It’s not worth more than this, that’s for sure.

notes-from-nowhere We are so ungrateful. She worked hard to find the gloves.

I bet she had to click on another link to find them. She deserves another accolade.

ajw720 @flowersintheattic254 Budget Bearding! I LOVE It! (and something tells me D’s SW costume in particular was far cheaper than either of these).

souly That Snow White dress can be found for about $25 in a ton of online shops. I stumbled upon it even before Halloween way too many times. 😂

@notes-from-nowhere The plush question mark block can be found in a couple online stores like this one. She simply glued it onto some gloves - or asked L to do it with that glue gun of hers.

flowersintheattic254 Well funnily enough I think we may have confirmation that 🚽🚽 glued on the puppies so I guess YES to the question mark block too!!!

cassie1022 They can’t even glue things properly. Why am I not surprised?

leka-1998

So, so amazing. Bow to the kween and her not so helpful helper.

************************************

There are lots more...I figured enough of your brain cells died reading the ones I posted. On Nov 30 she is STiLL bringing it up”

Anonymous asked:

Whenever I see miarren gifset they always use the same quote underneath (the rolling the windows down quote) and at first I rolled my eyes and thought uh not that quote again, and I can't believe it took me this long to realise it's because there is literally no other quote that can be construed as loving. You can hardly put down "she's a big girl" whenever you make a set of gifs with M beaming and D looking like someone murdered the dog he's allergic to.

ajw720: And I love the Emmy quote as it was an absolute reference to his character who was a psychopath. Pretty telling if you ask me. But that reference is over their heads.

And pretty much the only one. Guess saying he’s a ball and chain kind of guy isn’t romantic. They can’t even take pooping exes as he clearly steered the conversation away from her. Lovely lady of many moons? Nah she sounds like a stranger. Saying nothing changes after marriage? Sounds boring. It’s a struggle. But hey she’s an excellent online shopper that he done got hitched to!!!

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oumiyuki · 5 years

Text

Blankets and Hugs for a Bad Day

Summary: Bad days. Days where you can’t seem to do anything no matter how hard you try happens. And that day was happening for Honoka today. But the day isn’t entirely bad when Kotori arrives to do what she can to bring some cheer in Honoka’s day.

Pairing: HonoKoto

Words: 1644

Read me at fanfiction.net or AO3 too~ :)

Author Notes

May you enjoy... :”)

Honoka sits near the corner of the room on the cold floor, back against the wall and knees close to her chest as she curls up close to herself. A frown and a set line was her only expression as she blinks every now and then, eyebrows furrowing and unfurrowing.

It’s not that she wants to be this way. Or to feel this way. No one ever wants this. But this emotion of helplessness plagued the gingerhead today. Honoka sighs loudly. Moving her hands in front of her to see how empty it is and she clenches it with a grimace.

“Ugghh…” Honoka shakes her head back and forth at all this negativity circulating around her. It’s almost like the negativity was manifesting into a monster that was tangible all around her, making her incapable of doing anything.

She got up in the morning and before she could get a good breakfast in, she found herself trapped in a heavy atmosphere that was most probably made up by her own mind or some higher power deciding she’d be the only one to feel it. As her sister and parents had no issue continuing their day like every other day with smiles.

Honoka sighs and scratches her head a little out of frustration then, and couldn’t quite enjoy breakfast despite it being her favourite strawberry jam bread.

She then tried to get in the mood of running which she likes to do as self-practice over the weekend since a Muse performance was coming up. But…just picking out her training clothes to change into got her annoyed for no particular reason and she slumps on her desk in the middle of her room.

“Why…” Honoka tries to stretch it away. Tries to jump up and down. Tries to get some good music on; maybe A-RISE’s songs could get her remembering why she wants to work so hard and why she’s enjoying being a school idol.

…

It didn’t help.

Honoka groans and tries for listening to their own songs. When even that didn’t help, she tries searching for an appropriately sad or scream-out-loud songs to help her embody the mood and maybe dispel it while she was at it.

Honoka didn’t really like the heavily dramatic and angsty songs…The gingerhead plucks her earpiece out roughly and throws it aside. She slumps the ground feeling so, so helpless.

“I hate this…” Honoka rubs at her eyes, the frustration of wanting to do something, anything – be it dance or sing or run or maybe even math! Yet being unable to no matter how she tries to.

Putting on her running shoes doesn’t make her excited, somehow her brain would switch from “I want to run” to “Why run?” and she’d shrug off her shoes and head back up to her room.

She’d try to do some dance moves in the space of her own room but taking even the first step or lifting her hands in the first pose gets her feeling heavy like lead, and she drops to the floor again.

After doing all she could to get into a mood of productivity but failing every single time, Honoka just…gave up. What else could she do? The day was nearing its end and she still can’t get anything done no matter how hard she tries.

The fact that her math homework was open on her desk with her pen, showing her attempt at even math proved a lot.

Her groans and frustrations did not go unnoticed, however, as when Yukiho returned from hanging out with Arisa, she got worried that her sister was being so uncharacteristically quiet.

And when she peeked into Honoka’s room to see her curled up at a corner of the room; the gloomy mood channelling off the gingerhead, Yukiho steps inside, a tad apprehensively but she was worried.

“Onee-chan..? Are you alright..?” The redhead closes the door behind her softly.

“Unn… …” Honoka grunts, barely looking over, as she couldn’t bring out a friendly expression and she doesn’t want to make her sister upset.

Yukiho walks closer to get a better look at her older sister, hoping she might catch her small smile and maybe return one.

Honoka looks over and looks away with a long sigh. “Yukiho…today is a bad day, okay? I just can’t do anything right…I’m not good at anything-”

“That’s not true-”

“It is! I try and try and try but nothing is working out!” Honoka got exasperated and she drops her hands to the floor before feeling guilty about lashing out like that. “Sorry. I just…leave me alone, okay? Nothing is going right for me today…”

Yukiho nods. “Everyone gets days like this, onee-chan…I’ll…see you later…”

The redhead exits the room and lets out a sigh of her own. She never liked it when her older sister isn’t full of energy and positivity. She takes out her phone and dialled a number for someone she knew could let her sister feel better.

Hurried steps echoes from outside Homura and a slightly out of breath Kotori enter the shop-house. “E-Excuse my intrusion…”

Yukiho turns away from the counter where she was waiting for her sister’s best friend cum girlfriend to arrive; she was the one who called for the ash-brunette to come over, so she figured even though Kotori knows this place like her own home, it’s respect to greet Kotori in.

“Thank you for coming over.” Yukiho nods as Kotori catches her breath.

“Of course I would, Yukiho-chan…” Kotori doesn’t waste a second as her eyes stray to the second floor. “Honoka-chan is..?”

“Upstairs. Yeah.” Yukiho lowers her gaze as the image of Honoka being so dejected and lifeless was brought to mind. “I hope you can help her.”

Kotori smiles reassuringly. “I’ll do everything I can to help Honoka-chan.”

Yukiho smiles in return. “Good.”

The ash-brunette gives another nod as she hurries up the stairs and to her girlfriend’s room.

“Honoka-chan.” Kotori calls gently as she knocks, enters and closes the room door behind her.

Honoka looks up surprised at the appearance of the ash-brunette, she opens her mouth then closes it. She can make an intelligent guess that her sister was the one to have called Kotori over despite it being nine in the night. “Mm…”

Kotori looks on with understanding eyes. Her girlfriend didn’t feel like speaking much tonight; so it’s up to Kotori to feel in. “Yukiho-chan told me it’s an emergency…”

The ash-brunette fished for a reaction; and she did get a twitch from Honoka and a frown that wasn’t one that looked like self-depreciation and more of one that was “Yukiho, you didn’t have to say it that way”.

Kotori smiles a tiny smile. “Honoka-chan~”

Honoka doesn’t react to Kotori’s coo for her attention. Stubbornly trying to keep to herself. On one hand, she was worried she’d do the same thing she did to Yukiho to Kotori. On another hand, she just felt like she doesn’t deserve a sweet, loving girlfriend at the moment when she feels so pathetic and annoyed at life.

Kotori purposefully climbs onto Honoka’s bed noisily, shifting the blankets and shuffling against the covers, and then patting the pillows. “Honoka-chan~”

The gingerhead had a hard time actively ignoring her favourite voice so she looks up and her eyebrows couldn’t help but unfurrow as she saw her girlfriend in her bed, under her blanket, looking at her with a soft smile.

“Here, let’s share the blanket, Honoka-chan~” Kotori giggles lightly, and patting the space beside her. A saved spot just for Honoka.

Honoka presses her lips together to stop a smile. “That’s my blanket, Kotori-chan.”

Kotori laughs but in that sweet, gentle way that makes Honoka’s heart swell. “I’m in it first~ So I get invitation rights, Honoka-chan~”

“What’s that supposed to be…” Honoka’s lips pull upwards just a little and she blinks a soft gaze toward the ash-brunette.”

“It means I get to ask Honoka-chan to come to join me in it~” Kotori sings as she lifts the blanket up to show how there’s that vacant space she wants her girlfriend to be in.

Honoka tries to stay on the floor but her stubbornness caves in a minute and she moves to get up, a bit slowly from sitting really long on the floor. “I’ve been on the ground for really long though…”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll warm you right up, Honoka-chan~” Kotori reaches over to hug Honoka closer to her the moment the gingerhead was in bed.

“Kotori-chan…”

Kotori smiles and pulls Honoka’s head to lie on her shoulder. “I’m here, Honoka-chan…”

Honoka closes her eyes as she relaxes in Kotori’s embrace. “Mm…”

“You don’t have to do anything but hug me now, Honoka-chan…” Kotori daringly declares as she rubs reassuring circles on her girlfriend’s back.

Honoka hums softly as she wraps her arms around Kotori and nuzzling closer. “Thank you, Kotori-chan…”

Kotori’s smile pulls higher as she presses a kiss to Honoka’s head. “Anytime, Honoka-chan~”

“Mm…~” Honoka hugs Kotori tighter, feeling like she really doesn’t have to anything and it’s alright. No, that’s not it. She’s doing something. Kotori said to hug her and she’s hugging her. She successfully did something today.

Honoka smiles and moves her arms around Kotori’s back to around her girlfriend’s waist. “Kotori-chan…~”

“Let’s sleep together tonight, Honoka-chan~” Kotori giggles, clearly happy at the idea.

Honoka’s body vibrates in a chuckle of agreement. “Mm, let’s do that.”

Kotori moved so that Honoka will get in a good lying down position with her, snuggled close and feeling at ease, the blanket pulled over the both of them warmly.

Honoka does her job in embracing Kotori lovingly as she was held lovingly too; knowing that one day of feeling crappy wasn’t all that bad when she now has Kotori with her. Making everything better. Honoka smiles in her sleep tonight, comfy in Kotori’s arms.

Author Notes

Hey…This was how I felt yesterday…OxO

But things got better eventually when I chose to just sleep despite it being relatively early in the night.

So! Happy Belated Birthday, Kotori. >x< I’m sorry for a late story and it being not as fluffy as always too! But I’ll write more for you, Kotori~ You deserve more fluffy Honoka times~ hehe~ ^w^

And to all who read this, thanks for reading it! I hope y’all liked it ^w^

Leave a comment if you like~ :D (Honoka is being healed by Kotori at the moment, and if she gets to see your comments when she wakes, she’d be real happy too XD Which would make Kotori super happy too~ :D)

See you~ Chun chun!

#kotohono #honokoto #kousaka honoka #minami kotori #kousaka yukiho #love live!#love live! school idol project #fanfic #fanfiction #romance #yukiho is an awesome younger sister #and kotori is an awesome and sweet and loving girlfriend #cheer up fic

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theunrealinsomniac · 5 years

Text

It was @49thpersona‘s birthday yesterday and so of course I have written you a thing! Happy Belated Birthday!

39. “Don’t say you love me.”

Naruto sighed contently as he and Sakura walked hand in hand through the village.

This was perfect. Just perfect. Walking around, holding hands on their way back to her place like any normal couple. It was one of the best part of being with Sakura.

The intimate little them moments had always been his favourite. Which he had to admit shocked him. He’d always thought it would be sexy parts he’d love most. The seeing her naked and her wanting him and all that sort of stuff.

Which was definitely amazing, the sex blew his mind on a regular basis, something he’d told her about pretty much every time and it made her blush and tell him to shut up. It normally earned him a kiss too.

But no, the best moments of their relationship were like this. Holding hands, cuddling on the sofa, sleeping next to each other at night. The lazy Sunday mornings when they didn’t have to get out of bed until they wanted to.

Those were the moments when he realised he was in love with her. He’d thought he always had been and in truth it was very very close. But being in love outside of a couple was decidedly different from being in love as a couple.

It was deeper, more solid and grew with each passing day. He’d wanted to tell her from six months into their relationship. But it had seemed too tenuous and the secrecy of their relationship had seemed likely to shatter if ‘I love you’s were exchanged.

And there was nothing he wanted less than for their relationship to end.

So he hadn’t said it. He wouldn’t say it. At least not first. A selfish part of him wanted her to say it first. But also, a deeply scared part of him, the part of him that remembered all the rejection of his childhood needed her to say it first.

Unfortunately it was getting harder and harder to not say it, Sakura was so wonderful and he wanted to cry from the rooftops how much he loved her.

He knew he’d crack soon and hell, he’d probably crack tonight when she next kissed him.

‘Don’t say it,’ Sakura said, her warm fingers squeezing his. Like she’d been reading his mind. Hell, at this point he wouldn’t be surprised. ‘Don’t say you love me.’

His stomach dropped and he turned to face her. He came to a stop and frowned at her. ‘Why not?’

Fear bubbled up in him, did she want him not to say it because she couldn’t say it back? Did she not love him? Oh Kami, was their whole relationship just a thing to pass the time?

Sakura lifted his fingers to her lips and kissed them gently. ‘Because, I want to say it first. You deserve me saying it first.’

Her voice was soft, barely a whisper to be honest. If they hadn’t been standing so close he didn’t think he’d have heard it.

He stared at her, heart beating furiously in his chest. He wanted to ask if that meant what he thought it meant. That she loved him too but he couldn’t seem to find his voice.

‘So don’t say it Naruto,’ Sakura said looking up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. ‘I’ve been building up the courage to tell you for months so don’t you dare say it. I’ve known you’ve loved me for years. You deserve to have it said to you first and not just as a response to you saying it. Okay?’

Naruto nodded as they began walking, they weren’t far from Sakura and Ino’s place. He made it maybe ten steps before he finally found his voice.

‘So ...’

Sakura paused, cutting him off immediately. ‘I was going to wait until we got back home you idiot. I had a whole speech where I was going to lay it all out and apologise for that horrible confession just before the war. I’m still sorry about that and it doesn’t matter that you’ve forgiven me. And I didn’t want it to come after we’d had sex because then you might not hear me or you might just dismiss it as because of the sex ...’

Naruto watched her tirade, becoming more and more aimed at herself as she got louder and louder in the middle of the street.

He felt the smile stretch his face, the relief spreading through his entire being as Sakura continued to list all the reasons she hadn’t told him she loved him yet and why she was so mad at herself for it.

‘... I’ve been biting down on my tongue so I didn’t just blurt it out for weeks! I nearly said it when you passed me a dishcloth to help you do the dishes for Kami’s sake! I put together a whole romantic evening and everythin-mmpf!’

The interrupting kiss was returned after a moment of shock and Sakura’s hand went up to cradle his cheek as the long, soft kiss continued.

It broke shortly after, Sakura looking up at him with a mix of irritation and vulnerability. And he knew. Knew that she loved him as much he loved her and he’d never felt so relieved.

‘Naruto -,’ she started but he put a finger to her lip.

‘Say it Sakura-chan,’ he whispered, before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead and lingering. ‘Please.’

She wrapped her arms around his middle and sighed deeply. ‘Look at me first.’

He did, the same vulnerability was there as the bravest woman he’d ever known prepared herself to utter three little words they’d both been so afraid of.

‘I love you,’ she said, her face breaking into a watery smile, hugging him tightly as she said again. ‘Kami, I love you so damn much Naruto.’

Naruto felt like he was going to ascend to a higher plane of existence. She loved him. She. Loved. Him.

‘Thank Kami,’ Naruto murmured against her lips. Another soft kiss and a sweet smile. ‘Now let’s go home, I’m starving.’

He went to pull away, mischief dazzling in his brain but he’d forgotten that Sakura still had her very strong arms around him.

‘Say it back asshole,’ she growled playfully.

‘But your place is literally round the corner Sakura-chan. Wouldn’t you rather I say it there?’

‘Say it back or I will kick your ass right here right now.’ Sakura glowered up at him, the flicker of playfulness telling him she had his number. ‘And I will be having a romantic meal for one.’

‘Romantic?’ Naruto asked with a sheepish grin. ‘You really did go all out huh?’

‘Candles and everything,’ Sakura confirmed. ‘Now say it back. Asshole.’

Naruto laughed and took her lips in a long, slow kiss. Sakura’s grip on him never wavering even when the kiss broke.

‘I love you Sakura-chan,’ he said against her mouth as they kissed again and again. ‘With all that I am.’

‘Love you too,’ Sakura said. ‘It’s so nice to be able to say it at long last. Now come on, The takeout I ordered should be coming soon and I don’t want to miss it.’

‘I thought it was a romantic meal you prepared yourself?’ Naruto asked teasingly as Sakura pulled on his hand to lead them round the corner to her place.

‘If it helps with the romance, imagine I placed the order over the phone wearing negligee.’ Sakura’s tone was teasing and she nudged him in the side before as they reached her building. ‘And at least I got the candles for you.’

‘You did,’ Naruto chuckled as he squeezed her fingers. ‘And it does.’

‘Pervert,’ Sakura said warmly, turning on the steps up to her apartment to kiss him quickly. ‘Now hurry up, I can see the Ichiraku guy standing at my door.’

Kami he loved her.

#narusaku #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #make the writer write #49thpersona #hope you liked it!

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fucking-zawa-sensei · 5 years

Text

Turn on the Stars

Title:Turn on the Stars

WC: 3k+

Summary:

They had a routine.

Hizashi wasn’t quite sure when it started.

They’d never talked about it.

It was just one more thing that made Hizashi feel lucky, one more thing that made him look at Shouta and think the world doesn’t deserve you.

Notes:

This is a belated birthday fic for a dear friend @lisaveeee who is truly deserving of it. Lisa, you are an enormous delight, and I only wish I could bottle up all my love for you and somehow give it to you, show it to you, so you could see just how truly cherished you are. You are incredibly strong and funny and talented. You are always there for me when I need you. You listened to me when I was at my lowest and encouraged me to take chances. You have given me so many smiles and I hope that this fic is able to give you one as well! Happy Birthday, Lisa!

Read it on AO3

Turn on the Stars

They had a routine.

Hizashi wasn’t quite sure when it started. He’s pretty sure it was back when they first decided to room together post graduation, before their separate crushes had been revealed through fumbled, messy confessions and their lives were filled with nothing more than sleepless nights and restless days spent repeatedly trying to make a name for themselves as new pros. In all honesty, age and experience hadn’t changed those habits much. They both still barely slept, were almost constantly overworked, but at least they’d managed to find the time and courage to add some jewelry to their fingers and a mortgage to their shared expenses.

Back then, in their early twenties, he’d barely paid attention to it. He simply knew that when all the caffeine had finally drained from his system, and the crash was coming faster than his heavy limbs could stand, Shouta was always easy to find. When he just couldn’t shoulder the thought of slipping into sleep when people were out there still getting attacked on the streets, when his hero agency had sent him home, telling him “if you really want to keep this internship, you also have to keep your head,” but all it did was remind him he still had so much to improve, Shouta was there.

Time after time, he’d knock at his roommate’s bedroom door and be greeted with a grunt of acknowledgment. He’d push it open and step inside, shucking his jacket and gear and glasses, and crawl up onto the bed. He’d find his place beside his friend, trying not to think about how the few inches between them were still too much for him to bear, and sink into the pillow. Without a single word exchanged, Shouta’s lips would part and he’d begin to read aloud from the book in his hands. They weren’t particularly entertaining stories. There was never any adventure, always some sort of practical book or something to do with history or science. To Hizashi, they were incredibly boring texts.

They made his mind feel numb.

That was exactly what he needed in those moments, as Shouta’s soft voice recited line after line until Hizashi’s eyelids fell shut and his body finally, finally got to rest.

At the time, he’d simply assumed Shouta read before bed every night.

When they’d finally started dating, and sharing a bed became customary, he’d realized this practice wasn’t for Shouta at all.

It had always been for him.

Even at thirty, Hizashi sometimes couldn’t manage to get his mind to shut off long enough for some proper sleep, and after fifteen years in each other’s company, Hizashi supposes he shouldn’t be so surprised that Shouta could practically read his thoughts. Still, it was a little incredible when his husband just knew, and without prompting, would pull out one of those old books, turn to wherever they’d left off, and begin to read to the quiet room until Hizashi’s light snores peppered in between all the spoken text.

They’d never talked about it.

It was just one more thing that made Hizashi feel lucky, one more thing that made him look at Shouta and think the world doesn’t deserve you.

This week had been running them both thin, and Hizashi was beginning to feel that familiar itch, that constant static at the back of his mind that said, here comes another sleepless night. He knew Shouta would be digging around for some history book tonight, was almost planning on it, that is, until he entered the staff room and saw his husband’s head tucked into his arms, face down on his desk.

He shot a side glance at Midnight, but she wasn’t paying attention either, her own eyes closed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. It had been a difficult year, villain attack after villain attack, both inside and outside school grounds. The dorms, which each teacher took shifts supervising, were eating into personal time, as was the increasing criminal activity in every sector of the city. There had been a big practical exam for the first year hero courses today, most of the teachers involved in one way or another. Hizashi had gotten out of it due to the third years’ English final prep course he’d had to develop on the fly last week when it became all too clear some of the young U.A. graduates weren’t going to look very good on paper with their current test scores. Principle Nezu had not been pleased. They couldn’t very well call themselves the best school if their students were all flunking out.

Hizashi gives the staff room a once over. Practically every teacher in the room looked like they hadn’t seen sunlight or a proper meal in a year.

They all needed a break.

As he makes his way over to his husband, and his own desk beside the hunched over man, he knows there’s nothing he can do to help everyone in the room, but certainly, he could do something for Shouta.

Hizashi reaches a hand out, trailing a finger over Shouta’s shoulders, causing the other man to shiver. He sits down in his seat and that messy head of black hair starts to move, shifting until he sees Shouta’s tired eyes, a little more pink than usual, staring at him from between the loose strands. Hizashi brushes them away gently, Shouta’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he does so. Their marital status was no secret, though they certainly didn’t flaunt it, in the same way their coworkers didn’t get more than a peck on the lips from their partners when they came to drop something off or pick them up for lunch on occasion.

Shouta sighs when Hizashi pulls his hand back.

He opens his mouth and Shouta’s gaze shifts to it. He almost asks, long day? It’s incredibly obvious it had been, so he thinks better of it, going instead with, “Just a little bit longer and we’re out here of here, babe.” He whispers the words, leaning in close.

Shouta’s eyelids slowly fall closed.

“I finished grading,” he mumbles out.

“Oh wow, good job!” Hizashi exclaims, genuinely surprised. His own work had been piling up relentlessly.

“Mhm…” Shouta hums. “Let me know when you’re done and we can go.”

Hizashi tilts his head, frowning in question. As if sensing the minute shifting of air around the blond’s body, Shouta answers without prompting, “I shifted some assignments around. Figured we could both use a break tonight.”

Hizashi’s frown deepens.

Of course Shouta was already twelve steps ahead of him. The other man probably ordered takeout and had a movie picked out for later too.

Pouting, Hizashi opens his desk drawer to bring out the grading he hadn’t finished yesterday. He sets the heavy folder down and flips it open. Shouta shuffles next to him and he turns to see his husband burrowing into his arms, getting a little comfier, settling in.

Hizashi looks back down at the tests.

Gritting his teeth, he shuts the folder and pushes out of his chair.

Shouta’s head lifts up immediately, an eyebrow raised when he turns to look at Hizashi.

“I’m ready, let’s go.”

“What? I thought you had more to do,” Shouta asks, looking down at the large stack of papers.

“It can wait.”

“Can it?”

Hizashi bites the inside of his cheek.

The kids were already failing, right? What was one more day not knowing if they improved on the last test?

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine!” he answers, smacking on a grin and waving it off. “Come on! Let’s go before we both end up falling asleep here.”

Shouta looks like he very much doubts Hizashi’s answer, and rightfully so, but the scruff on his chin that is bordering on a light beard at this point, and the darker bags under his eyes, both win out over his desire to insist Hizashi complete his duties. The other man slowly rises, and Hizashi doesn’t miss the way his hand shakes a bit in the air before it meets the back of his chair when he pushes himself up.

He’s more exhausted than I thought, Hizashi frowns, watching carefully at how Shouta’s body bends to reach his bag. When the erasure hero turns back around, he makes sure a private, gentle smile is waiting for his husband.

Shouta returns it easily, despite his spent energy.

“Come on,” Hizashi says, tugging at his sleeve.

They tell their coworkers goodnight, wishing them luck on their various arduous tasks, and head home. They get a quick dinner from Lunch Rush in the cafeteria, neither really feeling like waiting for food or making their own, Shouta having not ordered takeout after all. Shouta sleeps against the passenger side mirror, letting out little grunts and mumbles every time the car stops and starts at stop lights and stop signs. It makes Hizashi wish they lived in a more rural area, so he could just let Shouta get some proper rest.

It’s alright, though, he has plans for that.

It was Shouta’s turn to be doted on, to be cared for. Hizashi did his best to keep his husband happy and healthy, but their work lives didn’t always leave a lot of room for extra indulgences. So they made time for them. They carved out spaces in their lives for one another even when time and responsibility fought them at every turn.

Because that’s what you do when you love someone.

Hizashi looks over at Shouta’s sagged frame, snoring quietly, and reaches out a hand, placing it on his husband’s leg for a moment, just above the knee, to stroke his thumb in a soothing circle.

That’s what you do, what Shouta had always done for him.

It was his turn.

When they get home, Hizashi jostles the other man awake and they make their way inside. They don’t say much, both going to the bedroom to get dressed down and wash off the day’s grime. Sometimes that was nothing more than a quick rinse to get off all the germs that seemed to follow teenagers around, and other times it was a more involved process, like when Shouta plans a demonstration for the hero course involving the faculty.

Thankfully, today was a fairly easy day for Hizashi, having missed the hero course activities, but while he was combing out his hair, Shouta let him know he’d be taking a longer bath tonight. Whether that was for sore joints, a few punches from one of the students he hadn’t quite been able to dodge, or just a desperate need for relaxation, Hizashi didn’t know.

When he’d gotten all the hairspray and gel out, though, he slipped into the tub with Shouta and rattled on about nothing, just to fill the silence, to see the way Shouta’s lips perked up with a delicate smile when Hizashi told him about some prank his intern had tried to pull this week.

The bath seems to seep some of the rigidness from Shouta’s body and Hizashi is happy to run his hands, draped in one of their puffy towels, over those scarred shoulders and have a content sigh fall from Shouta’s lips this time. When he moves the cloth away, he briefly kisses Shouta’s upper back, peeking out from behind his damp hair to stare at his husband’s eyes in the reflection of their mirror. Shouta’s upper cheeks are flushed from the warm bath water, his eyes drooping, blinking a little more than usual. It’s obvious he’s already on the verge of sleep.

Hizashi ushers him along into the bedroom and pulls out some comfy sweatpants for both of them. When Hizashi turns around, stretching his arms out above his head and popping his back, he sees Shouta reaching for one of the many books tucked away in the cubby beneath his nightstand.

Before the other man can take a seat on the bed, he says, “Wait!”

Shouta jumps a bit and turns to look at Hizashi, who is covering his mouth with his hands, realizing he’d sounded more frantic than what he’d intended.

“S-sorry,” he laughs out, lowering his hands. Shouta raises a brow, but otherwise doesn’t comment. “Can you...can you uh...go make us a snack?”

Shouta looks at the clock. It’s already past 9 PM.

“Just something little, you know? Maybe some tea? Something sweet?” Hizashi asks, tilting his chin down and jutting out his bottom lip.

Shouta relents, setting the book on the bed. “I think we might have some frozen mochi. Is that good enough?”

Hizashi smiles and nods, throwing his arms open in an arc, requesting a hug, which Shouta easily slips into. He’s pleased when he feels the other man’s scruff drag against his cheek before a kiss is placed there.

Shouta backs away and heads for the door and Hizashi waits only a few moments before jumping into action. He knows he doesn’t have much time. As quietly as possible, he walks out of the room and ducks into the guest room next door, pulling the many decorative pillows and large comforter off the bed. He drags the items back to their room, pausing briefly, a smaller pillow corner in his mouth, arms already stuffed full of the others, when he hears Shouta call out.

“Strawberry or green tea mochi?”

“Hm-een Te-mm.”

“What?” the voice gets louder and Hizashi panics, opening his mouth and letting the pillow drop.

“Green tea!” he shouts quickly.

The floor creaks around the corner and then he hears Shouta moving away.

“Okay.”

“Thanks, baby!”

Hizashi kicks the dropped pillow into their room and shuffles in with the rest, making sure to close the door behind him without making too much noise. Looking at his pile, though, he realizes he isn’t going to have enough time.

He opens the door and shouts, “Can you use the kettle to heat up the water? I think it tastes better than the microwave!”

He hears a grunt from the kitchen, probably Shouta rolling his eyes, but no further complaints. He takes this as an affirmative and quickly gets to work, pulling harshly at the edge of their comforter to free it from where it is tucked into the bottom of the bed.

---

Shouta barely manages to save the mochi before it falls to the ground, the plate he’d had resting on his forearm, two mugs in his hands, tipping precariously. He’s lucky he is standing by the counter, the soft little green desserts rolling onto the clean surface rather than the floor. He sets the mugs down and gathers them back onto the plate. Assessing the situation, and deciding he doesn’t particularly want to try holding two mugs of boiling hot tea in one hand and risk burns on an already stressful day, he rummages around in their cabinets until he finds the tray Hizashi had used a few anniversaries ago when he’d made Shouta breakfast in bed.

Speaking of, he hears a creak from their bedroom again.

He’s not sure what Hizashi is up to in there, the tea and desserts were an obvious excuse from the moment the words left the blond’s sheepish mouth, but Shouta was willing to play along. He wanted to see what Hizashi thought he was being so clever about. So he took his time making the drinks, letting the tea steep. He hadn’t even been considering using the microwave when Hizashi had insisted he didn’t.

Now, about twenty minutes have passed and he’s officially about of reasons to hang out in the kitchen.

He sets everything on the tray and starts slowly toward their bedroom, hoping he’d bought his husband enough time for whatever he had planned.

“Hizashi,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the shuffling just beyond the door. “Let me in, my hands are full.”

“Just a sec!”

Shouta lets out a soft sigh and smiles down at the mochi. While he gravitated towards small, quiet displays of affection, Hizashi was one for large, impossible to miss ones. Shouta quite enjoyed their different styles of love.

He wouldn’t have married the man if he didn’t.

He waits patiently outside until the knob jostles and Hizashi’s face pokes out around the door. His face is a little pink, as if he’d been working hard, and more questions start popping up in Shouta’s mind.

“I uh...I thought we could do something a little different tonight,” Hizashi says.

With that, he steps away and pulls the door open, moving to the side to present the room to Shouta.

What he sees makes his eyes go wide and his mouth pop open.

Hizashi had always made the most of every minute, but this was unbelievable. In the brief moments Shouta had given him while preparing their snack in the kitchen, the blond had miraculously transformed their bedroom.

From the foot of the bed, Hizashi had draped several blankets over their desk chair, the computer chair from the office, a hamper, and what appeared to be one of the nightstands. The blankets were parted at the front. Inside were piles and piles of pillows, every single one from their bed, and all the little textured and patterned ones of every shape and size from the guest room next door.

The large, comfy looking pillow fort was not the most impressive part.

It was the thousands of sparkling, beautiful stars twirling over every inch of the hideaway and sneaking out from the cracks in the blankets to fill the surrounding walls and ceiling of their darkened room.

It was the well-used, dog eared, cracked binding copy of the History of Tool Crafting he’d read to Hizashi nearly every week when they’d first moved in together, sitting open to where he’d last left off among the pillows.

Shouta feels the tray in his hands shift and tears his eyes away from the twinkling scene to look down and see Hizashi’s hands gently sliding the food from his grasp. His gaze shifts up to his husband’s face, now covered in stars too, eyes brighter than he’d ever seen them, two little curved crescents as Hizashi beams at him.

Just like that, as Hizashi takes the burden from between his fingers the same way he takes so much else, the weight of the week is lifted.

“Zashi…”

“Hmm?” Hizashi questions as he brings the tray over to the fort and sets it inside. The mugs clink a bit, but otherwise nothing spills.

Shouta watches as his husband crawls in as well, settling among the pillows, picking up the book to pat the space next to him. On any other day, he might roll his eyes, tell Hizashi this is so unnecessary, put up some sort of grumpy fight just to concede and admit he loves it.

Tonight, though, it’s perfect.

It’s exactly what he needs.

It’s a tremendous gesture that has Shouta’s heart skipping happily in his chest.

He closes the bedroom, making the room a little darker, the stars a little brighter, and crouches down to slip beneath the blanket roof. He lies down beside Hizashi, careful not to hit the tray of food, and wriggles around until he’s comfortable, settling in and wrapping an arm around Hizashi’s shoulder, pulling the blond close against his side. Hizashi’s warmth feels wonderful against him, some part of his brain already beginning to clock out, thinking, you’re safe, you’re home.

He takes the book from Hizashi’s lap and opens it with the hand not slowly stroking its fingers up and down Hizashi’s waist. He leans into the other man and feels the blond snuggle in closer, turning onto his side a bit and throwing a leg over one of Shouta’s. Hizashi slips one of his arms behind the small of Shouta’s back and the other over his front, rubbing slowly over Shouta’s belly with his thumb. Every miniscule movement is relaxing, soothing, and after all the years of bringing out this book to calm Hizashi’s racing mind, to lull his lover to a proper rest, he thinks he might be the one dozing off a few minutes in this time.

Shouta turns to where they’d last left off, but pauses before he begins reading. Looking over at Hizashi and then leaning in to kiss his temple.

The blond smiles up at him.

“This is amazing, Zashi. Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby,” Hizashi says, then pushes up a bit to reach Shouta’s lips, pressing them together gently. When he pulls away, he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Shouta answers.

Hizashi shifts positions, sitting up slightly and causing Shouta to sink lower against his side. He rests his head on the blond’s shoulder and feels the weight of Hizashi’s fall gently atop his. Finally, he looks down at the text on the page, it taking a few minutes to focus, his vision already getting blurry around the edges.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to last too long.

Still, he begins reading aloud, his own low, monotone voice feeling a thousand miles away in his ears. He hardly registers what he’s saying, feeling only the slow, consistent rise and fall of Hizashi’s chest against him, the dragging of his husband’s thumb along his waist.

He begins to think he could spend his whole life here, under these blankets and stars, Hizashi’s warmth seeping into his muscles and bones, and never once get tired of it.

This was all he could ever want.

---

The book starts to fall backwards in Shouta’s hands, the pages having not been turned even once, as his husband’s fingers begin to loosen their grip. Hizashi catches it before it falls, holding back a chuckle as he feels Shouta’s weight get a little heavier against his side as the other man falls asleep.

It had to be a record.

Shouta had read two and a half sentences.

Hizashi pulls the book from the other man’s hands, closing it and setting it aside while trying to keep as still as possible. He pulls one of the blankets he’d left in a pile next to him just for this purpose over their bodies. Shouta wriggles a bit, lying lower, and Hizashi sinks down with him.

Tonight, he’s not going to need some boring book to shove away all the worries of his work, all the nagging duties he’d left back at the school or his studio or agency.

No, he felt light and happy, his brain flooded with memories just like this.

Moments of perfect silence, with Shouta filling all the empty spaces, bringing him back down to Earth, chasing away all the responsibilities and fear and pain, and replacing them with something else.

He reminisces about all those little moments like this, beneath the stars in one way or another, replacing them with love, with peace, with rest.

#erasermic fanfiction #erasermic #maizawa #eraserhead #present mic #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #bnha #mha

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gasbe26-blog · 5 years

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OMG I’m back again

I find myself always trying to find an outlet to write/type out my thoughts and feelings. And time and time again I always tell myself that I’m going to stick to it and try to commit to it everyday. BUUUUUT lets be honest. We all know how this is going to go: “I’m going to do well and write MAYBE a week straight and then completely fall off the face of the planet” (a little dramatic I know).

Currently I feel like i’m at a pretty good place in my life. God sent me a loving man who I clearly don’t deserve. I found a nursing job where I finally feel like I am a real, legit nurse. And I’m pretty much “adulting” now. I feel like everything just happened in 2018. I remember when my boss came back from maternity leave and she wished me a belated happy birthday. She asked me how old I turned and I told her 27. She told me that was the best year of her life and honestly, 27 is mine too. Through all the highs and lows of 2018, i truly owe it all to God. I am thankful for rekindling my relationship with him. Without him, I don’t know where I would be and how i would be. He’s given me strength, patience, courage, love, support, forgiveness and most of all faith.

Had a bit of a trip down memory lane for 2018 lol almost forgot the reason I wanted to start writing/blogging again. So now that I’m engaged and a full-time nurse, balance has been my goal (and of course staying sane because everyone knows how hectic planning weddings can be). I also forgot to mention at the end of 2018 i started going back to the gym. So with working 5 days a week and trying to take care of myself AND planning a wedding you can see how finding balance can be a little difficult. Most days I would like to think I’m doing okay but I also have those days where I just fall apart and break down. I’m starting to realize that it’s okay to have a “falling apart/breaking down/crying my eyes off” kind of day. Without those days, I wouldn’t be able to snap back and be better. I mean if we think about it, isn’t that how it usually goes? For example in the movies when an underdog athlete gets beaten time after time and then he/she is able to come back stronger. Now a heavy hitter. What’s the word for that? Ah yes, RESILIENCE.

I have also tried to have a more positive outlook as well. Trying to see the brighter side of things. I’m also trying to be more courageous. With planning this wedding, Mark and I want to try to pay for everything ourselves and not have to rely on other people. Not that we’re bashing on others who do, but we don’t come from well-off families. Plus the more we pay, the more it’s our wedding. My mom is the type of person who will keep it real and tell you straight. So when we told her of our super-duper intimate wedding plan of just us, parents, and siblings, she was NOT I repeat NOT happy at ALL. I was so discouraged and honestly even told Mark that I didn’t want to wedding plan anymore. it just wasn’t exciting or a happy time at the moment. But as soon we figured out our final game plan (budget friendly but still having mostly everyone), I realize that at the end of the day it’s me and Mark. Our wedding. I explained to her about the reasoning behind the super-duper intimate wedding and that we decided on a different plan. She told me why she was upset/hurt about the intimate wedding. We hashed it out and now she understands that it’s really up to what we want. I still share with her things that me and Mark talk about and I noticed that she doesn’t really give me her opinion. It’s simply “it’s up to you guys” or “as long as that’s what you guys want”. It’s honestly such a nice feeling knowing that my mom approves and can let me take the reign.

...

Well i did it again. I kinda lost focus on what I actually was supposed to talk about lol. Since this first post is kinda already long, I’ll keep this pretty short. About an hour ago, I was just feeling exhausted, emotional, and fed-up. It’s been a productive day and I just wanted to relax when I got home. But of course laundry wasn’t done (my brother needs his school uniforms so it had to be done) and had to finish my grandma’s invitations for her surprise 80th birthday. So of course I’m tired and I knew everything was falling on me. Starting questioning inside my head why my mom didn’t do the invitations or start the laundry yesterday? This happens frequently at this household and I’ve always been so close to just saying fuck it. I’m just going to pack my shit and move in with Mark. But then I realized I can’t. Well I can but there house just fits them perfectly. So because I was so upset and Mark is my outlet, I told him that I want to look for a place before we married. No offense to my family or his, but I need it to just be me and him. OUR place. Just US. I don’t want to be selfish but when am i ever? I think we NEED to have our own place even if we rent for the time being. And especially if we decide to start our family, I want to be able to enjoy us as husband and wife. Hopefully our families will understand and will give us our space..

Well thats all folks. Until next time. If you’re still reading, thanks for enduring this lengthy post.

#personal blog #thoughts #feelings #engaged #nurse #words

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evilqueens · 6 years

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snow queen; glory and gore (go hand in hand)

embarrassingly late, but life got in the way i’m so sorry. for @laura-p-g -- happy belated birthday cutie, i love you! here’s some zombie!snow queen a la santa clarita diet (with hints of outlaw queen).

The lack of sun does nothing to quell the late August heat, and Regina sighs as she wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. She looks around warily, the sound of Mary Margaret’s shovel scraping over the ground testing her already frazzled nerves.

“You know,” Mary Margaret breaks the silence, “you’re a shoe-in for the Wicked project. There’s absolutely no reason for Ingrid not to give the opening to you.” She smiles up at Regina from her spot in the hole she’s dug.

“Right.” Regina smiles back tightly. “Well, not to sound unappreciative, but when I said something needed to be done about my competition, eating him alive in my backyard wasn’t exactly where I was going.” She scrunches her nose at Mary Margaret. “A little extreme I think, actually.”

Mary Margaret huffs, wiping a bit of sweat from the side of her face. “I already told you it was an accident,” she defends. “I was starving, and he insisted on getting too close even after I told him not to.”

“Are you done with that hole?” Regina asks, nervously rubbing her hand over the swell of her belly. “The sooner we get out of here the better.” She looks around again, her anxiety spiking when she sees a flash of headlights in the distance. She holds her breath until they disappear.

“This should be deep enough,” Mary Margaret decides, climbing clumsily out of the hole. She moves for the container full of Regina’s coworker, and Regina follows. “What are you doing?” she asks when she sees Regina grasp the opposite end of the container.

“Helping,” Regina says. “We need to move faster.”

“You can’t help, you could hurt yourself!” Mary Margaret snaps, shooting a pointed look at Regina’s protruding belly.

“It’s fine,” Regina insists. She tugs her end of the container towards the hole. “You take the brunt, I’ll just… assist.”

Mary Margaret reluctantly does so, pulling her end of the container with as much as she can give. Regina complies with what she said, tries not to exert herself as much as her nervous instincts are telling her to. But the pace they set soon proves to be not good enough, and Regina’s nerves win. She starts tugging harder on her end.

“Move faster!” she gripes. They’re almost to the edge of the hole, and that only feeds her impatience.

“Regina wait, stop—”

The container tips forward before they can do anything to prevent it, and the hard landing has the lid popping off and bloody body parts falling out and towards the hole. Blood spills out of the container, soaking into the dirt and slowly flowing from the edge into the side of the hole.

The moment of silent horror is broken by Regina. “What a shit container.”

“It’s okay,” Mary Margaret tries assure, “most of him landed in the hole.” She rushes forward and grabs the container. Awkwardly, she starts scooping it into the bloody dirt and dumping it into the hole.

Regina watches helplessly as Mary Margaret works to dump the remains into the hole, the fluttery movement in her belly reminding her that she’s not allowed to start shoveling dirt to fill in a messy grave. But that resolve is starting to waver.

“Okay, I think that’s good.” Mary Margaret looks at her for confirmation. “Is that good?”

“Great,” Regina answers shortly. She grabs Mary Margaret’s shovel and moves toward the hill of dirt Mary Margaret made when digging the grave. The weight of the shovel is more than she expected, and she lets out a breath of frustration at having to pick up less dirt with each scoop than she’d like.

“Wait,” Mary Margaret stops her. Her face twists into a grimace. “Should we… say some words?”

Regina stares blankly at her.

“Yes, Whale was gross, but I ate half of him, so we’re kind of even?”

Regina sighs, looking back down at the hole. “You were an obnoxious pig who maybe didn’t deserve to be eaten alive, but I know had you gotten a chance to process the idea of being eaten by a ‘pretty lady,’ you probably would’ve liked it. So… you’re welcome.”

Mary Margaret beams at the compliment. “Thank you.”

Regina rolls her eyes, scooping more dirt onto the shovel. “Now scoop.”

.::.

“We just have to pack up his things and move it out of his apartment. According to Jefferson he’s a dick with no immediate family, and no close friends. And nobody at the office is gonna go looking for him. Ingrid’s probably going to have him terminated when he doesn’t show up to work, no further thought about it…”

“Regina, you’re rambling,” Mary Margaret interrupts gently.

“No, I’m making sure we don’t miss anything.” Regina’s hands tighten around the steering wheel.

“You’re stressing,” Mary Margaret insists. “And that’s not good for the baby. Or when you’re driving.”

“Yes, a lot about tonight isn’t good for the baby,” Regina grumbles. “Becoming an accomplice to murder and cannibalism being among them.”

“Regina, I—”

“I understand you have new impulsive cravings for human flesh,” Regina cuts her off. “I understand Whale was a pig who didn’t understand the word no. But we can’t kill people, Mary Margaret.”

Mary Margaret slumps in her seat in defeat. “I know,” she says softly.

“Tomorrow I’ll stock up on our chicken and beef,” Regina continues. “And I’m gonna look up virologists in the area that can possibly help.”

Mary Margaret grimaces at that. “Do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, we’ve established that I’m dead—”

“No, you were sick. This came out of that. So we need a doctor to look at you. We should’ve gone to one in the first place.”

“Okay,” Mary Margaret gives in. “Just one little problem.”

Regina bites back a groan. “What?”

“The mere thought of chicken or beef makes me want to puke.”

“What?”

“Whale was just too good!” Mary Margaret explains, her voice going higher in defense. “Just thinking about the taste of animal meat is disgusting now. I think he ruined it.”

Regina stares silently at the road for a moment before reiterating, “We can’t kill people, Mary Margaret!”

“Right…,” Mary Margaret answers, but her noncommittal tone has Regina’s knuckles turning white around the steering wheel.

.::.

It’s past two in the morning when they finally arrive home, so the kitchen and living room lights being on throws Regina. Still on edge from the night’s excursions, her anxiety spikes up again as they both cautiously venture into the living room. She lets out a breath of slight relief when she sees Henry lying on the couch watching TV.

“Henry,” Regina scolds, “why are you awake this late?”

Henry turns his head to his head to look at them. He takes in their dirt-smeared appearances and asks, “Where were you guys?”

“Grocery shopping,” Regina answers awkwardly, Mary Margaret nodding behind her as she takes off her shoes.

“Where are the groceries?” Henry asks.

“In the car,” Regina answers tightly. “We’re tired. It’s time we all went to bed.” She grabs the remote and turns off the TV before urging Henry to get up.

“I saw the blood in the yard, y’know,” Henry blurts.

Both women’s eyes widen, and Mary Margaret swallows loudly while Regina manages a weak, “Oh…”

“I also found a finger in the grass,” Henry continues. He looks at Mary Margaret in wonder. “You ate someone didn’t you?”

Mary Margaret’s cheeks flush, and she rushes forward to explain, “He was a bad man, Henry. To both me, and your mom. He wasn’t innocent—”

“It was an accident,” Regina interrupts. “But we’re going to figure this out, first thing tomorrow, we’re going to start looking for a solution to all this.”

Henry nods slowly. “You should probably try to make less of a mess next time, too.”

“There will not be a next time. This is never happening again. Right?” Regina shoots Mary Margaret a glare.

“Right.” And the resolve in Mary Margaret’s voice gives Regina small bit of peace.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow, alright?” She forces a smile for Henry as she urges him towards the stairs.

Henry looks back at her reluctantly, as if he has more to say on the matter. Instead, he asks, “So is it a boy or girl?”

“What?” Regina asks dumbly.

“Your ultrasound?” Henry elaborates.

Mary Margaret gasps. “I can’t believe I forgot to ask you about your ultrasound!” And Regina bites back a retort that if she had asked her at any point in the night Regina would’ve swung at her with the shovel.

“Right… right!” Regina’s smile comes a little bit easier this time. “It’s a boy.”

Henry smiles back, reaching out to give her belly a rub. “It’s not usually this crazy around here,” he stage whispers at her belly.

Regina’s smile wavers as she lets out a sigh. She watches Henry go up the stairs, his words ringing in her ear for a moment as she rubs a hand over her belly. Things aren’t usually so crazy around here. And she hopes that by the time her new son enters the world, things will be back to normal — or, as close to normal as they can possibly be.

She feels Mary Margaret’s arms wrap around her shoulders.

“It’s a boy!” Mary Margaret squeals softly.

Regina lets out another shaky sigh.

.::.

The next morning is only slightly easier than Regina had thought it would be. Getting up early after a night of practically no sleep, she takes a wary peek at the backyard and finds it surprisingly clean.

She realizes with a grimace that Henry must’ve cleaned up most of the horror scene from yesterday, and she kicks herself for not only letting Henry come home to that, but also for risking any neighbors catching sight of the bloodbath they’d left in their haste to get rid of Whale’s remains.

Regina moves on to more immediate matters after that, and the slight weight that had been taken off her shoulders at her newly cleaned backyard is immediately replaced by Mary Margaret’s words later that morning as Regina attempts to serve her a late breakfast.

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head, then turns away from the counter. “I can’t, Regina this is disgusting.”

Regina scoffs. “I clearly remember you thinking it was disgustingly delicious yesterday morning.” She pushes the opened packet of raw chicken breasts closer to Mary Margaret, who takes a step back in response.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. It’s just too gross.” She starts shaking her head again.

Regina sighs, pulling the styrofoam packet back. “I could… I don’t know, season it or something?” She waves her hands nervously over the chicken. “Or… maybe—”

“I won’t eat it.”

Regina lets her hands fall onto the counter with a slap. She glares at Mary Margaret. “Well what else are you supposed to eat? You can’t stomach actual food either!”

Mary Margaret grimaces, then lets out a sigh. “We shouldn’t have thrown all of Whale in the ground. I should’ve saved some—”

“While we’re talking about things being disgusting,” Regina interrupts. “You’ve had more than enough of Whale — or any other person!”

“Regina—”

Regina slams a hand on the counter again. “No. We can’t kill people Mary Margaret!”

“About that,” Mary Margaret says gently, raising a hand to stop Regina before she can say anything more, “I was thinking last night, what if… I only ate bad people?”

At Regina’s blank stare, Mary Margaret continues, “Whale tried to assault me. Who knows how many other women he’s done this to, or how many others he would’ve done this to in the future had I not eaten him. If you think about it—”

“You murdered—”

“—a bad guy,” Mary Margaret cuts in, undeterred by Regina pursing her lips in frustration. “I got rid of a harmful, bad person. Isn’t that technically a good thing?”

Regina shakes her head disbelievingly, but she bites back a reply as she hears the sound of Henry’s footsteps in the distance. Tensing, she turns around in time to see him enter the kitchen.

He scrunches his nose when he sees the raw meat sitting between his mom and Mary Margaret. “I think I’ll skip breakfast,” he quips.

Rolling her eyes, Regina grabs the plate of chicken and takes it to the fridge. “Grab some granola bars, you’re late for soccer practice,” she tells Henry, closing the door to the refrigerator a little too much force. “I’ll give you some money so Robin can take you out for lunch afterwards.”

She feels a twinge of guilt at deciding that without asking him first, but the prior conversation with Mary Margaret has left her in a decidedly bad mood. And as she runs her hand over the curve of her belly, she pettily decides that he owes her one. Or two.

“You’re not staying?” Henry asks as he shoves some granola bars in his bag.

“No, I have some things I need to take care of here in the house.” Regina gives Mary Margaret a pointed look to let her know their discussion is far from over. “And try to find research some doctors we can talk to about your aunt.”

Mary Margaret looks down at her feet, but Regina can see the defiance radiating off her, and she knows this isn’t the last she’ll be hearing about cannibalistic crime fighting.

Henry raises his eyebrows at his mother. “You’re not gonna tell Robin that you’re having a boy?”

Mary Margaret looks up at that, latching on to the idea as she insists, “You have to! I can stay here and search up doctors while you go give Robin the news—”

Regina shakes her head before Mary Margaret can even finish. “I think that given recent events,” she says tightly, “it’s best that I don’t leave you alone. We’re dropping Henry off, and then we’ll look up doctors together.” She leaves no room for arguments as she moves towards the living room to grab her purse and keys.

She’s grateful for the quiet sounds of Henry and Mary Margaret trailing after her without protest, and after slipping into her shoes she opens the door for them. Glancing at the floor absentmindedly, she tenses as she spots a tiny, circular spot of dried blood on the tile.

Taking a deep breath, Regina makes a note to deep clean the living room as soon as they get back.

.::.

Regina’s phone chimes with a new text message on the coffee table, which Regina ignores as she focuses on the list of virologists on her laptop screen. But the phone is synced to the laptop unfortunately, and so the text catches her attention anyway as it pops up in the right-hand corner of her screen.

How was your ultrasound?

Mary Margaret shifts next to her. “Tell him it’s a boy!” she nudges.

“I’m not telling him over text,” Regina gripes.

“Well you won’t tell him in person either, so how do you plan on giving him the news?”

Regina bristles. “I’m going to tell him,” she defends. “Just not now. There are more important things on my plate. Like the fact that my best friend ate a man alive in my backyard.”

Mary Margaret lets out a tired sigh, which only works on Regina’s nerves more. “A bad man,” she stresses. “He got what he deserved.”

“See, this isn’t like you,” Regina says harshly.

Mary Margaret scoffs. “Yeah, just like no longer sleeping and craving human flesh isn’t like me, but here we are.” She waves a hand to emphasize her point before letting it drop. “I don’t know what’s going on Regina, but I do know that a doctor isn’t going to help. At best they’ll have me committed, if not imprisoned.”

Unable to find a good argument, Regina stays silent.

Mary Margaret continues, “I also know I’m hungry. And it won’t be long before I’m verging on starving. And if I end up hurting anyone again, I’d rather it be a bad person, on my terms, than have it be you, or Henry, or anyone else I love.”

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Mary Margaret jumps up to go answer it, but tenses when she peers through the peep hole to see who it is. Turning back to Regina, who had trailed after her, she whispers, “It’s Detective Humbert.”

#snow queen #regina x snow #snow queen ff #snow queen fic #ouat #look i wrote a thing

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whispersandwhiskerburn · 6 years

Text

The Fool (Pt. 1)

Summary: Sam’s in the cage leaving his brother to try to find a normal life with Lisa, and his girlfriend (Y/N) to try and figure out how to cope with his loss. You never knew it, but Dean had been in love with you too... and now is when you find out. Characters: Dean Winchesters, Lisa Braeden, Samifer, and Reader. Mentioned: Sam Winchester, Ben Braeden. Word Count: 2,110 Warnings: Oh this mini-series is going to have so much angst. I’m so sorry everyone. This part is SFW though. Also...smallish cliffhanger? Author’s Note: This fic has been so long in the making, I’m sure most everyone will have forgotten that I originally teased in back in January of 2017, when I re-heard Lee Ann Womack’s “The Fool” and this fic idea plopped into my brain. Go listen. It’s beautiful, and I stole almost every line of the lyrics in this fic (they’re italicized). The one person I know for sure who has not forgotten this idea is my dear friend Jessie, @plaidstiel-wormstache, who has been enthusiastically persuading me to type it since the first tease. Yesterday was her birthday, and me finally putting out the first part of what will most likely be a 3 part (or more) series, is her belated birthday present. Love you, Jessie! I hope this lives up to your expectations. THE FOOL MASTERLIST

Bobby’s neck was snapped. Castiel—he was in fragments everywhere. Y/N had been thrown across the graveyard, her head colliding with a gravestone.

And all by the archangel wearing his baby brother.

The same archangel that had him pinned against the Impala, punching him again and again.

“Sammy, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you.”

It was all Dean could think of to get through to Sammy. To distract him from the fact that everyone else that he loved was dead.

He could only focus on Sam, on trying to get him back. Just for a moment. Just long enough to save what was left of the world.

“I’m not gonna leave you!”

And then there was a moment. An impossibly long moment where Sam—Lucifer, stopped. Just stopped, staring behind Dean.

And he knew. Even before Sam started talking again, that his brother was back.

Dean knew before he put the ring on, before he said the incantation, before Michael showed up to challenge him.

Before he took one last look at the crumpled figure of his girlfriend, Y/N, and spread his arms, Dean knew and finally accepted that his brother was going to go into the Cage to save the world.

And then he was gone.

And Dean was left there, surrounded by the bodies. He was bloodied and broken in the worst way over the spot where Sam had disappeared, helpless and lost.

Cass came back. He saved Bobby and Y/N. They three of them helped him get up, clean up.

Cass went back to heaven. Bobby went home, said he had to call a lot of hunters and give them updates. Y/N stayed with him for a while, numb. Dean tried to comfort her, but she was… empty. Without Sam, without even a hope for Sam, Dean hardly recognized the woman for whom he’d carried a secret torch ever since his brother had introduced them. When he tried to reach out, she retreated.

So, he did the same. He left, went to lick his wounds by moving in with Lisa and Ben. Like Sam had asked him to.

He left hunting, tried for the apple-pie-life.

But he never forgot his brother. Or Y/N.

“Hello?”

“Dean? Is that you?”

“Y/N.” There was no question in Dean’s voice. He would know Y/N’s voice saying his name even if he lived to be a hundred. Certainly two months without hearing from her wasn’t enough to wipe away that memory.

But it was enough to make him miss her to the point that it felt like an extra ache in his chest. Not as vital as the one Sammy’s absence created, but sharper somehow.

“I—I know I avoided your calls, Dean. I needed time to…to try and adjust. And I’m sorry. I know you were going through…” she cut off, realizing that what she was about to say would be mentioning the place where Sam was. Which was exactly what they were both trying so hard not to think about.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you. It’s been two months almost since Lawrence, and I…. Are you okay?”

Her voice trailed off and Dean realized how awkward this must be for her. And as much as hearing her reminded him of what might have been, and what was when Sam was here, he was glad she had called.

“I’m… doing about as well as can be expected. You?”

There was a brief silence.

“It’s been rough, but I’m starting to manage it. I called Bobby, looking for you. He gave me this number, said you had gotten out of the life?”

Dean nodded, glancing towards the entrance to the house. He was in the garage, one of his favorite places to retreat to when the walls started closing in.

“Yeah….” He swallowed, “I made a promise. I’m with Lisa and Ben now. We’re in Cicero, Indiana.”

There was a silence again through the cell phone line, long enough that Dean took it away from his ear to check to see if the call had been disconnected. When he brought it back, she was talking.

“—about a day and half away. Would you mind if I came to visit?”

That familiar ache stabbed at Dean again before he shrugged it off.

“Yeah, Y/N, that’d be good. Our sitter is sick, so I have to be here to meet Ben’s bus after school and stay with him until Lisa gets home around six. If you get here before then, check into a hotel or something, and we’ll go grab a bite to eat around seven. Sound good?”

“Sound’s perfect. See you soon, Dean.”

And there it was again. Y/N saying his name.

She and Sam had never known about Dean’s feelings. They had already been smitten with each other, and such an obvious match, so when Dean had met her he had hidden his fascination. She was beautiful and funny, kind and strong—everything he had ever wanted in a woman. He was happy for Sam, but he was also secretly jealous of him.

And every time Y/N and he were alone, or when she would say his name, a part of him felt a longing for something that he knew he could never have.

Because she was Sam’s girl.

Dean tried to block those thoughts as he headed into the house. It was supper time with Lisa and Ben, the amazing family who had taken him in, had patched him together. He’d need to tell them Y/N was coming and what plans he’d made, but he’d have to do it right.

They deserved better than him mooning over an old forbidden crush.

You looked up, startled when the door buzzer sounded. It was way too early for Dean to be here—you’d only just checked in to the hotel 20 minutes ago.

Dammit, you had been looking forward to taking a nice bath.

Instead, you grabbed your pistol and went up to the peep hole in the door, “who is it?”

When you looked through the door, you saw a beautiful brunette woman, standing back from the door with both her hands visible and a strained smile on her face.

“Not a monster, I swear, Y/N.”

She knew your name? And apparently that you were a hunter.

You had no idea who she was though.

“That’s not what I asked, lady.”

You clearly saw the woman roll her eyes, then bend down out of sight of the fish-eye lens. You tensed, ready to dive to the side if necessary, when she reappeared holding a six pack of beer.

“If you’ve got a minute, I’ll buy you a drink. I’ve got something to say.”

Well, whoever she was, you had to give her credit for courage. What the hell. You couldn’t shoot her, and sending her away would drive you nuts.

You unlocked the door and pulled it open, keeping your gun visible, but not pointing at her. “Hey, if you’re bringing drinks, I guess we can talk for a little bit.”

The stranger flashed that same strained smile at you, then brushed past you to set the beers on the little table. You shut the door and watched as she stood there awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

No way was this woman a danger to you. You tucked your gun in your waistband, hoping that would help her relax a bit.

“You don’t know me, but I know who you are… mind if I sit down?” You gestured for her to do so, then pulled the other chair out for yourself.

You helped yourself to a beer and tried to appear non-threatening. The lady’s body language was stressed and anxious, and you were curious enough to want her to keep talking at this point.

“I know you’ve probably heard my name, though we’ve not been introduced. I’m Lisa.”

You stopped drinking and put the beer down. Dean’s Lisa? His apple-pie-life match? Sam had told you about her, how Dean had always had a thing for her, and her kid—how Sam wanted him to try to have a life with the two of them after….

“I’m the fool in love with the fool, who’s still in love with you.”

What?

She took a long look at your blank expression then grabbed a beer of her own and popped the cap off of it. You tried to process what she was talking about.

Tried and failed.

“I don’t understand.”

Lisa took a swig, looked up for a minute like she was trying to find the words, or courage, to continue.

“It might sound crazy, but last night in his sleep,… I heard him call out your name.”

She looked so heartbroken at the idea that Dean was in love with you. An idea that was so strange and stupid you couldn’t even say it out loud.

“Lisa, it was probably just a nightmare. We hunted together for a long time—that tends to show up when we sleep….”

She was shaking her head now, “this ain’t the first time, he’s done it before. And I’ve seen him during and after his nightmares. The nights when he calls for you…it’s different. And it’s hard to face the truth….”

She took another swig of her beer, half emptying it before speaking again, this time more to herself than to you, “I’m the fool in love with the fool, who’s still in love with you.”

She seemed… sad, but there was more than that. She was resigned. Lisa looked like she had come to terms with this idea that Dean, the man she loved, was in love with you.

Which was just utterly and completely ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

A small whisper of doubt echoed in your subconscious… Dean had flirted with you when you and Sam were together, but he flirted with every girl. You had caught him staring at you a few times, but still….

You drained the rest of your beer.

Your movement seemed to wake Lisa out of her thoughts and she leaned forward, cradling her bottle.

“I know love is a fragile thing, and God, I love that man. He’s broken, and sometimes it’s hard, but there’s a goodness inside him… and the way he is with Ben?” She smiled, and you were jealous for a moment, remembering the dreams you had once nurtured for a life with Sam.

She sobered quickly though, “we’ve got a good thing going, and I’m trying hard to make it last. But it ain’t easy holding on to my dream, when he’s holding on to the past, to hunting, to Sam, and... to you.”

“Lisa, I swear—Dean and I never—”

She nodded, smiling. “I know.”

How was she not angry? If she really believed you were a threat to her relationship…. You would have been clawing the eyes out of anyone who threatened what you and Sam had had. You remembered how you used to be jealous of the idea of Jessica--and she had been dead long before you ever met Sam!

“It’s obvious on your face that you had no clue about how Dean felt, how he still feels. I thought you might not know from the way Dean talked. But I didn’t know how long you were planning to be in town, and I thought you should know.”

She finished her beer and placed it beside your empty bottle. “Just one more thing before I go; I’m not here to put you down. You don’t love him, and that’s a fact. I know how you felt about Sam, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you. But you hold Dean’s heart in the palm of your hand, and it’s breaking mine in two.”

She stood up and you tilted your head back to look at her eyes, which seemed to be tearing up for the first time in this conversation, Lisa having lost her composure at the last confession.

She licked her lips and tried to smile once again, but couldn’t quite manage it before shrugging. “Like I said, I’m the fool in love with the fool, who’s still in love with you. And now you know everything. Please--”

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she closed her mouth instead and went to the door, opening it and going through, before pulling it shut behind her quietly.

You listened, numbly frozen in your chair, to the sound of her shoes walking across the wooden flooring until she was out of earshot.

Could it possibly be true?

Could Dean, who’d finally found a happy life, a normal life outside of hunting…could he really love you? Could he have been in love with you?

And if it was true—what were you going to do about it?

Part 2 will hopefully be coming soon!

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A special shout out to a few individuals who voted for this fic once upon a time: @arryn-nyxx, @blackcatstiel-blog, @demondeansdomme, @noisilyyoungpuppy , @i-is-for-inspiring, @pinknerdpanda, @waywardjoy, @demonangelimpala, and @cfordwrites

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#Angst #angst series #series start #the fool #angsty #dean x reader #dean x lisa #sam x reader #lisa braeden #reader insert #spnfanfic #sorry for the cliffhanger?#HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESSIE #I hope you're happy #you fool of fabulousness

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