#AND BRACES him and zach both have braces

[sourrind]

Mercy Manifested [Chapter 01]

Life is Strange - Victoria Chase/Kate Marsh

READ ON AO3

VC SUCKS

Victoria Chase had been staring at the graffiti for the past five minutes. It was a common sight now, something to be plastered on any surface that could be scratched or marked. She had never figured out how it started or whether the “VC” had stood for the Vortex Club or for her, but she had come to learn that the two had become synonymous over the past few months.

Her hand reached up and a set of well-manicured fingers rubbed at her brow. The buzz of the fluorescent lights continued to echo off the tiles of the girl’s restroom right into her eardrums. This was the last stall that had not been marked yet with the slogan, but now it seemed like no one could use any restroom or vending machine without being reminded how much “VC SUCKS,” least of all her.

The door opened and the sound of two chattering girls entered. Victoria raised her feet and pressed them against the sides of the stall. She didn’t want anyone to know she was there. The last time she had gotten cornered had turned out to be a less than pleasant experience. Without the Vortex Club to back her up, it had become obvious that the former Queen of Blackwell was all bark and no bite.

“God, can you believe Mrs. Hoida? ‘Knowledge is knowing that Frankenstein is not the monster. Wisdom is knowing that he is.’ What kinda crap is that?”

‘Great, another dumb blonde at Blackwell.’

“Yeah, it’s like, of course he’s the monster, he’s like made of dead people and junk.”

‘Scratch that, two dumb blondes.’

Victoria buried her face into her hands and let out a silent sigh. She had dealt with her fair share of idiots and morons – both in the art world and at school – but it never got any easier.

“Do you know who you’re going to the party with?”

“Not yet. I really wanna go with Zach, but fuckin’ Juliet scares the shit out of me.”

Victoria’s eye twitched at the mention of Zach and Juliet. She remembered leading Zach on like a sick puppy to mess with the would-be journalist. She didn’t really know why she had done it, but she had enjoyed it. It was funny to her how much power she used to wield and be able to exercise.

It was good.

While it lasted.

“Zach…didn’t he used to go out with Victoria?”

The other girl groaned. “Maybe I shouldn’t go with him then. Who knows what kinda shit he caught from her.”

“Oh em gee, have you seen her recently? She looks like someone runs over her dog every morning or something.”

A laugh. “I mean, that’s what she deserves, right? School’s been so much fucking nicer ever since that lame girl almost ate it off the roof.” A smack of the lips. The snap of a make-up palette closing. “Perfect. Just one more thing.”

VIctoria’s breath hitched. Had the girls figured her out? She braced herself steady against the stall doors, but the worst of it never came. Instead, shoes shuffled from one side of the bathroom to the other, only to end in one very self-satisfied sigh.

The first girl laughed. “You’re such a bitch.”

And the other girl basked in it. “And don’t you forget it.”

The two morons laughed at their own arrogance before exiting the room. Victoria didn’t allow herself to breathe until she heard the slam of the bathroom door closing. Even then, she waited before allowing her feet to fall to the floor before exiting the stall.

The mirror directly in front of her was clean, but ones to the left had the letters “V” and “C” on them. The three on the right spelled out “SUX.”

She didn’t even know who those girls were.

CONTINUE ON AO3

[incorrectgallaghergirlsquotes]

SAW YOUR ASK AND ASFFGKSKWKSSOSOSOOS now now please don't keep us hanging and please make a short fic regarding bex, macey and liz giving Zach the talk TwT

The sound of the door clicking closed got Cammie to look over her shoulder. A smile crossed her face. "Hey," she greeted, sweetly.

"Hey, babe," Zach said. He came up to her and cupped her face in his hand, giving her a kiss. He glanced around the apartment as he took his jacket off. "Where are the girls?"

Cammie tilted her head towards a closed door. "In there."

Zach's brow furrowed as he looked from the door back to his girlfriend. "Yeah?" he asked, seemingly amused. "How come?"

Cammie sighed but she smiled when she turned to him again. "Why don't you go find out?" her mouth said, but her face was saying 'Brace yourself!' He gave her one last kiss before opening the door and heading inside.

Within the room her found Macey and Liz sitting across from each other at a table. They each had their hands folded in front of them, seemingly waiting for Zach to arrive. They looked up when he came in, but said nothing, their faces expressionless. Once the door shut behind him the chair at the head of the table spun around, revealing Bex.

"Hello Zachary," she said. "Please have a seat." she gestured to the chair across from her. It was a small table, just a four top really, but Macey and Liz had situated themselves closer to Bex so it was clear this was a them against him situation. Still, he took his seat.

"You're probably wondering why we've brought you here."

"To my own apartment?" he asked.

Bex glared at him. Apparently this hilarious scheme they had set up wasn't supposed to be funny. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "What's going on guys?"

Bex leaned forward as if things were about to get heated when Macey put a hand out to stop her. "There's a conversation that needs to be had if you're going to date our girl Cammie."

Zach looked at each of the girls in turn, realizing what was going on. "You guys cannot be serious," he said.

"Deadly," Macey assured.

It's not like the girls were being overly serious in their tones or words. No, it was the theatricality of it all that was making Zach laugh in the presence of girls that could definitely hurt him if they wanted to (and Bex did look like she wanted to).

"By all means," he said, after composing himself. "Continue."

"Zach," Liz chimed in. "We know that you love Cammie. And you know that we love Cammie. There's no reason why we all can't be on the same page. In fact, we'd like to all be friends."

"We are friends. I literally invited you all over for dinner tonight."

"I think you know what we're talking about," Macey said, leaning back in her seat. "And you're right you've been quite...agreeable," the other two girls nodded at her word choice. "That's why we're doing this the easy way."

"And what is it that we're doing exactly?" Zach asked.

"We," Bex began, emphasizing the word in a way that left Zach out of it. "Are giving you a fair warning that if you hurt Cammie, in any way, while dating her, you will have to deal with us."

Of course this is what it was. "Right. Of course. Because after the last two years of me protecting her, the next natural thing is to hurt her."

"Hey, no one is accusing anyone of anything," Macey butted in. "Things happen. We just wanted to give you a fair warning. You know, as your friends."

"Cammie can handle herself," Zach said.

"Oh, of course," Liz agreed.

"She just shouldn't have to," Bex finished, leaning forward across the table towards him. "There's a lot we can forgive, Zachary. Hurting Cammie isn't one of them."

"I am not going to hurt Cammie," Zach said. Both because it was true and because it seemed to be what they wanted to hear.

"Good," Macey said. "Then we understand each other." The girls exchanged looks and smiles before turning back to him.

"You're dismissed." Bex confirmed. When the three of them just stared at him he pushed back from the table and left the room.

Cammie was there when he emerged. She had her bottom lip between her teeth and raised an eyebrow at him. Zach leaned against the now closed door. "Did Bex just watch The Godfather or something?" he asked.

Cammie laughed and reached out for him, trying to pull him away from the door. Zach didn't budge though, resulting in Cammie moving to him.

"I'm serious," he said, despite the smile on his face saying otherwise. He reached out for her, pulling her even closer to him. "And you knew, didn't you? You knew exactly what they were up to."

"I told them it wasn't necessary," she admitted. "You try stopping them."

Zach shook his head in mock annoyance. "Can't believe this. My own girlfriend. In my own apartment."

"That Townsend pays for," a distinctly British voice said from the other side of the door.

"It's the least he can do," Zach said. Cammie laughed again, putting her head on his chest.

"He's got a point," they heard Liz say.

There was some shuffling around in the room and then someone tried the doorknob. It turned but the door didn't budge against Zach's full weight on it. Cammie went to move off him, but Zach pulled her back, putting all of their combined weight against the door.

"Hey!" Macey called. Cammie could tell they were trying the door again. "Let us out!"

"What?" Zach called, louder than he needed to. "What was that? Sorry, I can't hear you."

Cammie rolled her eyes as the girls all started yelling at him. Zach just smirked and reached out to play with her hair. "You look nice," he told her, fully ignoring the sounds from behind him.

"Thanks," Cammie said, smiling at him.

"Cammie!" All three girls yelled at the same time. She didn't think they heard her, just that they were trying a new tactic.

"Yeah?" She asked.

Lis started saying she should have Zach let them out when Bex interrupted her. "Cam have you been there the whole time?" She demanded.

"Yeah," her and Zach said at the same time. More yelling sounded from the other side of the door at the admission. Cammie had to cover her laughter with her hand while Zach put his head down on the crown of Cammie's head.

"Home sweet home," he mumbled against her. He tugged her face up, giving her a quick kiss before releasing their friends so they could have a nice evening together. At least, their version of nice.

[aleburton]

Do you have time to talk today? Her fingers danced across lightly across the glass screen of her phone. Exiting the elevator, she strolled through the gilded lobby, seemingly oblivious to the rich tenants adorned with shopping bags, gearing up for the impending Christmas festivities. New York City during the holiday season was her favorite, yet today, she found it challenging to relish the festive atmosphere. Despite the lobby’s recent transformation with sparkling decorations, her mind was singularly fixated on a swift exit. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she shifted it up onto her shoulder. Though she had initially planned to attend her morning dance class, the information she had involuntarily received demanded processing. Pushing open the weighty door, she was met with an immediate blast of winter’s icy breath. She was clad in a substantial coat and snug leg warmers, but the cold seemed to penetrate through the layers, momentarily stealing her breath. She almost needed it, as the abrupt change in temperature appeared to disrupt the beginning of internal downward spiral.

 Alex had taken pride in her journey of self-repair. Over the course of months, she dedicated herself to the delicate task of healing her fractured heart and meticulously sewing together the damaged fragments of her being. Every step was deliberate; she purged her system of all vices, bidding farewell to the solace of liquor, the numbness of Xanax and cocaine, and in her best attempt, the memory of Zach. In the sanctuary of her therapy sessions, she laid herself bare. There was no room for secrets as she openly acknowledged her lingering love for him. It was the only space where she felt unburdened, shielded from the judgement she knew would come from the likes of Eden, Naomi, and her father. Beyond those protective walls, Alex guarded those thoughts and feelings like cherished secrets, holding them close to her heart. Anticipating the challenge of moving beyond their shared history, she braced herself for the struggle. She had been forewarned that he would resurface unexpectedly in her mind, triggered by familiar sights, sounds, and even scents, inflicting a pang of pain.

Yet, the promise was that, with time, those poignant recollections would transform into bittersweet memories. Someday, if she were lucky, she might meet someone who made her grateful for their divergence of their paths. She thought she was there. Though she harbored a deep love for Zach and missed him on an almost daily basis, she understood that being together was an untenable scenario. It has been detrimental for both, with Zach jeopardizing his career each time he spiraled out of control over matters involving her. Their shared inability to navigate their intense emotions had consistently placed them in harm’s way. Now, with Zach likely taking on a role as a surrogate parent for his younger sibling, Alex couldn’t fathom subjecting an innocent child to their turbulent dynamic. Enter Drew – an unexpected presence in her life, but one that seemed to arrive precisely when needed.

Drew embodied everything she desired in a partner. Each day, he took deliberate steps to ensure she felt important, whether through spontaneous dates or thoughtful gifts. Whatever she wished for, he willingly provided, sparing no expense to bring a smile to her face. Attuned to her emotional needs, he eliminated any uncertainty about where they stood, always communicating with a calm and poised demeanor. In him, she found the anchor she had longed for. And still, a trace of hesitation of lingered within her. As if safeguarding a tiny corner of her heart, she had not given him every part of herself, as though it remained reserved for someone else. News of Zach’s new relationship threatened to shatter the fragile cocoon of Alex’s sobriety, an unsettling intrusion that spurred an urgent need to regain control. As she walked down the sidewalk, heading towards the studio, she anxiously awaited a response from her therapist. When it arrived finally, a wave of relief washed over her. Choosing the sanctuary of the warm dance studio, Alex sealed herself inside of an empty dressing room before making the call. There, she began recounting the morning’s events – the images she had seen and her visceral reaction to them. Despite her initial resolve to resist the urge to cry, tears eventually streamed down her face. Overwhelmed by a sense of weakness, embarrassment flooded in, prompting her to apologize profusely to her therapist. She felt like a failure. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, that I’d let him go, but I so badly wanted it to be him,” she confessed. She expressed her fear of regression and the temptation to resort to drastic measures in a bid to reclaim Zach. In a comforting tone, the therapist acknowledged, “Alex, what you’re going through is a normal reaction. The history you and Zach share runs deep, it’s natural to feel a continued connection. It’s likely most difficult now because you see him doing the things you always hoped he would do for you.” The therapists insight struck a chord with her. Zach now appeared as the epitome of health, a devoted and supportive boyfriend, all seemingly at her expense. Why couldn’t he have been that way with her? Nodding in agreement, her voice trembled as she admitted, “Yeah.” The therapist offered further prescriptive, “You have someone now who meets your expectations and has been overall great for you. It’s important not to abandon something good over assumptions. Zach might seem well, but is he truly? You know firsthand what lies ahead for his new girlfriend? A leopard never changes it spots.” Empowered by the understanding shared in the conversation, Alex found herself centered once more, redirecting her focus to the good she had waiting just a few blocks away. Grateful for the guidance, she expressed her thanks before ending the call. With a steadied resolve, Alex pieced herself back together for the second time that day, ready to face her dance class. Even after months away, she seamlessly slipped back into the rhythm, pouring her heart into the routine. She felt at home in the studio but could not wait to return to Drew.

Alex entered the apartment, carefully placing her belongings in their designated spots. Quietly padding through the expansive living space, she headed toward Drew’s bedroom, where the soothing sound of running shower water and the scent of his fragrant soap welcomed her. Gently pushing open the bathroom door, she shed her clothing before slipping into the shower to join him. A soft kiss on the back marked her greeting, “Hey, baby.” He turned around, a smile lighting up his face as he enveloped her in his arms, ensuring she stayed warm beneath the cascading water. “There you are. How was your class?” he inquired. Looking up at him with a smile, she replied, “It was really good. Surprisingly, despite a previously broken ankle, I’ve still got it. I missed you though.” He hummed, tilting his head to gaze down at the petite wonder beneath him. “Broken ankle, tiny scar. Are you every going to tell me how you acquired those?” His thumb traced a small divot at the top of her forehead. Alex’s reaction was immediate and intense. She leaned away from his touch, an unmistakable response to the memories and emotions associated with that particular mark. “Being stupid. Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to revisit that story.”

Acknowledging her discomfort, Drew nodded, offering a tender response by bowing his head to place a soft kiss against the scar on her forehead. As the atmosphere softened, he shared, “My mother is coming in for a visit soon. She wants to know who I’ve been spending so much time with lately.” Reaching for the shampoo, he poured some into his hand and began to lather it into her hair, a caring gesture that made her close her eyes in appreciation. “Mm, so it seems I’ll have to do everything in my power to make her love me,” she playfully remarked. Drew chuckled, his fingers gently combing through her wet curls. “That won’t be hard. Everyone loves you. I know I do,” he reassured, his affectionate words echoing through the intimate space of the shower.

Kylie looked at him like he held the world in his hands; a responsibility he hadn’t asked for and certainly couldn't do justice. Something in what he had said fish-hooked her and brought her to the surface, flapping, and she rose to meet him and catch his face in her hands, rolling onto her tiptoes to kiss him tearily. Zach was taken aback by the affection. He blinked, held her wrists to pry her carefully away. “What are you doing?” he breathed. Her bright eyes were bleary with tears, and he frowned, hands traversing the goosebumps up her arms to hold her by the shoulders. “You just don’t know,” she choked in an effort to withhold her tears, shaking her head with a sad smile. “You don’t know how different you are to him. I guess I'm just grateful. He didn't trust me at all.” Zach was bewildered, his palms tightening on her shoulders as she praised him so, having thought it was an impossibility he could ever be anyone’s knight in shining armor. It truly contextualized her understanding of him. Sure, she had heard the same rumors everyone had: volatile, irrational, a wildfire. But that version of him was not a Zach she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. “So tell me,” he asked, touched by her trust in him. 

Knee-to-knee on his bed, Kylie went on to divulge the ugliest parts of her former relationship with Milo. He was a musician; a studio-hopper, providing guitar, bass and piano for artists who did not have their own bands, and they had met very early into her career. “He had this way of twisting up everything I said or did; I was always the bad guy, always the evil girlfriend who was strangling his balls and not letting him do anything, not letting him live his life. But - I mean, come on!” She laughed, pained. “You know me, that’s not who I am. But, you know, if someone tells you you’re bad for long enough, you start to believe them." Zach blinked, overwhelmed by the notion, thinking immediately of his mother. He wasn’t sure he’d yet seen through the person she’d convinced him he was, all those years ago. "I was just so exhausted by the end. I couldn't see a way out, he basically had to force me out the door. It was so pathetic.” Zach twisted the lone ring on his finger and looked at Kylie, sorrowful. "Want me to kill him?" She slapped his chest playfully, dismissing it as a cruel joke. He flexed his hand, more practiced than the average at bringing another man to his knees. He tilted his head. "If you'd have met me a year ago, you couldn't have stopped me."

Kylie chewed her lip. "If you'd have met me a year ago, I'd probably have encouraged you to do it." Zach sniffed. “I’m guessing you didn’t extend an invitation tonight, then,” he said. She shook her head sadly. “Of course not. I really thought I’d never see him again, but that was probably stupid, since we run in the same circles. He has this way of popping up wherever I go, anyway.” She took Zach’s hands, stopping him from fiddling. “Hopefully seeing you will send him running for good.” She smiled. Zach laughed, thinking how intimately she had come to know him in such a short time, and yet she didn’t know the half of it. He recalled with a grimace how he had reacted so aggressively when, on their first date, he and Alex had run into Noah. He ran a thumb over the back of Kylie’s hand, staring at the movement, willing the lump rising from his chest to his throat away. He couldn’t help but wonder - if he had hit rock bottom before Alex, gotten all this help, would they have been each other’s happily ever after? Kylie squeezed his hands and he looked up. “I want to be good for you, Ky,” he admitted into the blue dim. He tried to pretend he wasn't really speaking to Alex. Kylie's eyebrows twitched, sadness and happiness swilling on her face.

"I’ve been really, really fucking terrible. Like, just a bad fucking person. For a long time. But I want to be better for you. I want to be the reason you forget that asshole ever existed.” Kylie sniffed, dropping her face as a lone tear escaped her eye, and she started laughing. “Fucking dammit, Winthrop. You got my ass.” He laughed too, picking her face up and wiping the tear away. “So, while we’re at it, any girlfriend skeletons in your closet?” Though she'd been joking, his flinch was noticeable; obvious, even. “Woah,” she laughed nervously, pulling his hands into her lap. “Guess that’s a yes.” Zach looked at her, almost pleading silently with her, not to pry further. But he owed it to her - didn’t he? She’d spilled her guts to him, and why was he hiding his past if it was buried now? He hated how frequently he had to remind himself; Alex was no longer an option. He had to stop acting like she was.

And yet, when he opened his mouth, he found himself saying: “Al…ice.” He blinked, surprised, and yet he’d said it all the same. He couldn’t take it back now. “I was with my ex, Alice, for… well.” It was hard to define - one year, two? They had spent so much of it apart, or flirting with platonic, hating each other, pining for each other. He swallowed. “Let’s say two years, sort of. We could never stay together long after the first time we-” He stopped abruptly, a pain in his throat cutting off his air supply. Kylie chewed her lip, letting go of his hands. “She did a number on you, huh?” The jealousy was stringent in her tone, even someone as selfless as Kylie incapable of tempering the power of such an emotion. He told Kylie that he met Alice through mutual friends, that she was a dancer, and that he had no idea where she was now. Nothing entirely false, but nothing entirely true, either. He made the false-Alex real enough to be tangible, but not detailed enough to be findable.

“We did a number on each other.” He looked at her squarely. “I was so high, all the time, Ky. And fucking angry, just angry at everything. I just wanted to hurt people, hurt anyone, for any reason. I guess because I was hurting and I didn't know what to do with it all. I don’t know. That’s what my therapist says.” He laughed listlessly. Even talking about matters of the heart now did not prove crippling as it once had; back when Alex would draw painful truths from him strip by strip, over so many months, and how he could never look her in the eye when he confessed them. Now, he shrugged them off. “When fire meets fire, shit burns, you know? I didn’t know how to not fuck us up, and I fucked up so much. I guess I’m still learning how to not be like that.” Kylie held his hands again, and he was grateful to know she wasn’t pulling away. “But I have you now. If none of that shit had happened, I wouldn’t. And you make it pretty easy to not be a dick.” She seemed full of something, like she might burst; instead, she leapt across the distance to kiss him, flattening him back onto the bed. “And here I thought we, the public, knew everything about the infamous Winthrop and all his romantic escapades,” she chanted breathily into his neck, sending kisses up into his hairline. Zach laughed, incredulous. “You thought you were my first girlfriend?” She giggled, her skirt riding up to her hips. “I don't know. I guess, sort of.”

[lyntonier]

A train to Paris

Carmen Sandiego x Gray Calloway

Summary: Carmen is taking a break away from her work — helping out at the Orphanage and fighting crime — and decides to take a trip back to Paris, a location she quite enjoyed. During her journey she meets a familiar face she believed she would not see again.

A/N: This is set after season 4.

"So Carms, I hear you are off to Paris for the week huh?"

I smile into the phone, listening to Ivy's comment.

"You heard correct. Well, assuming nothing goes wrong, that is".

I had gotten a break from working at the Orphanage with my Madre, so I decided to take myself on a little trip. We had finally met about eleven months ago, and I had been helping around as much as I possibly could without a break. Well, I tell a lie, I had a couple days free from working with Madre, though I used those days to check for any crime around. I guess some habits die hard huh, this was meant to be my new start but I can't seem to leave fighting crime behind. It was my choice to work so much at the Orphanage though.

Madre had had enough and told me to take a week away and go someplace, so where better than Paris? The beauty of the city when the sun goes down and the lights come on again, the food, the art and architecture, the history, it's simply something I cannot forget. It's truly a once in a lifetime thing.

"Wow, I'm so jealous! I wish I could be there with you, it would be so much fun- Zack stop! Leave Julia alone. No- She probably does NOT appreciate that, so quit it... Yes, you, who else?!.......... Sorry Carms, it's Zach trying to flirt with Julia again".

Giggling at Ivy's scolding to her brother, I make a mental note to tease him about that when I next see him. He kept flirting with the poor woman, to which she would politely laugh and make an excuse to leave.

"No worries Ivy, it's alright. I must admit though, I do feel sorry for Julia in some respects".

"I know right! Gosh, he's so oblivious sometimes. I love him anyway though, no matter how much of a douche brain he is".

"It would be nice to be able to meet up with all of you again, it's been a while since I saw all of you properly. You'll have to let me know when you two both have some time off and I'll get hold of Shadowsan and Player, then we can all have a nice catch-up".

I hear Ivy sigh wistfully into the phone, light laughter leaving her lips.

"Honestly Carms, that seems like such a good idea right about now. I'm so tired with work, I got called out five times within the past two days, three of which were last night. I've not had a nice snooze in for ages and I could do with one right about now, haha."

"You do sound quite tired. When do you get off shift?"

"Uuuh, hold on....... Forty-five minutes, then I can go home".

"Well, you should treat yourself to a warm bubble bath and a long rest".

"I think I'll take that one and do just that. Ah- I've got to shoot, Cheif is calling for me. I'll call you tomorrow and we can talk more, yeah?"

"Yes, wouldn't miss it for the world. Tell the others I said hello for me? And I'll work on arranging a girls trip between you and me to somewhere, just let me know where you fancy going".

"Oh you're a star Carm, I'll be looking forward to that then. I'll decide tonight and let you know tomorrow, and I'll pass on your 'hellos' to the others. Talk soon Carm".

I smile into the phone, mildly disappointed that our conversation had to end so soon.

"Talk soon Ivy".

With that, I hear the beep of an ended call as Ivy hangs up the line. A sudden wave of exhaustion washes over me as I move my phone down to my lap, checking the time. It was 1:15 in the morning. Raising my eyebrows, I nod at my phone, surprised at how late it was. I should probably try to get some sleep as I'll be arriving at my stop in about seven hours from now and I would much prefer to not be falling asleep at every given moment.

Setting my phone down next to myself, I grab a blanket out of my carry bag and drape it over my lap, removing my jumper and folding it into four before placing it onto the seat to my left. Reaching up above myself, I pull a cord that turned off the lights in my little train booth, engulfing myself in darkness. The only form of light that I had at this stage was the gentle light from the moon, it would be full soon. Laying down, I place my head onto my jumper and pull my blanket up higher, closing my eyes and relaxing my body.

Right as I began to doze off, I felt a strange feeling of wariness make itself known in my gut, enticing me to sit up and evaluate my surroundings. Within a couple of seconds of having my eyes open, I heard a light tapping on my booth door. Someone was there. Averting my eyes to the glass section of the door, I keep my body motionless as I trace the figure with my eyes and their every possible movement.

If I stayed still then they would not see me and assume I was sleeping and most likely leave.

*tap, tap, tap*

"Excuse me, uh, I know you are awake.. can I come in? My booth has no heating and it's really cold out here".

Or maybe not.

Cautiously eyeing the door, I slowly raise myself from the seats and brace my hand into a fist, ready to fight off a possible threat. Standing tall, I cautiously step my way over to the door before grasping the cool metal handle with one hand and undoing a lock with the other. Twisting the handle, I edge the door open bit by bit.

"Hello... Um.. yes you may".

It was a man, not that much taller than me, and Australian. Or perhaps Kiwi. I couldn't see many of his facial features, other than the fact that he had a man bun and a couple bags with him. I wracked my brain for any vocal recognitions, however, nothing matched.

Standing aside, I made room for the strange man to come inside.

"Cheers mate, sorry 'bout how odd this is. I went to the train staff to ask about the heating and they told me that the booth I chose was meant to be closed, though the person on duty of closing it off didn't get around to it, hence me choosing the unlucky booth. They told me I would have to ask to share booths with somebody else seen as though all others are booked, and I saw your light go out, so I came here. Sorry and cheers again".

The man laughed, rubbing what I assumed was the back of his neck. His explanation seemed pretty truthful and his reasoning honest.

"That's no problem, sorry that you got a faulty booth, that must've sucked".

"Hah, tell me 'bout it" He joked.

Smiling, I close the door and return to my seat, watching as he put his bags in the overhead luggage area, leaving out a blanket of his own. Smart man.

"So, what's your name mate?"

"Carmen. And you?"

I see him whip his head around, before shaking it and laughing lightly.

"I had a friend called Carmen, though I've not seen her in a long time. My name is Grah-Grayson. Grayson".

I raise my eyebrow at his stutter, smirking lightly.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Grah-Grayson" I tease.

"Haha, as to you Carmen".

With that, we both fell silent, just basking in the pleasant atmosphere of the booth with the same idea of sleep on our minds.

Slipping back into my 'bed', I pull my blankets back over myself and close my eyes, listening carefully at everything around me. I hear some stuffing around, something dropping on the floor, followed by a second something, more shuffling, then a satisfied sigh. Peering over my shoulder, I see the outline of a body laying on the seat across from mine.

"Did you just take your shoes off?"

"Hm? Ah yeah mate, can't sleep with shoes on, that's just crazy".

Grah-Grayson laughs at his own statement, finding humour in my question.

I feel my lips draw into a thin line as I shuffle my feet around awkwardly, my shoes very much still on.

Am I crazy?

"G'd'night mate, thanks again for letting me in on such short notice".

"No, no, that's fine. Goodnight".

It felt strange saying goodnight to a stranger, though I had most definitely done stranger.

I feel my eyes shoot open rather rapidly, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I scramble to sit upright, taking in my surroundings eagerly before eyeing the strange man in the booth with me. I check the room once again for anything out of the ordinary, before removing the blanket from my body and standing, striding my way over the door and yanking it open silently and slipping out, closing it behind myself. I needed some fresh air.

Making my way to the end of the train, I open a door that leads to a small balcony attached to the carriage. Immediately the wind hits me, blowing my hair to the side.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, I relax my shoulders and close my eyes. I had a nightmare — rather a memory — that Coach Brunt had broken into my booth and tied me up, much like before, and decided that enough was enough and planned to end things then and there.

A pretty sad nightmare, huh.

I enjoy the breeze a little longer before turning around and opening the door, walking back into the train carriage and back to my booth. Opening the door, I am surprised to see Grah-Grayson awake and sat upright, watching out of the window at the scenery. It was early for him to be awake, it was about five in the morning and the sun had begun rising, casting a gentle glow in the booth.

"Ah, mate, there you are, are you alr-......."

The words leave his mouth as he stares at me in surprise, horror, happiness, sadness and recognition... a mix of everything. Exactly what I was feeling.

Tears fill my eyes as I gaze at the male before me. It couldn't be...

"G-Gray?"

"Black sheep..?."

Grah-Grayson stands up, tears in his own eyes as he stares at me intently.

Stepping forward, I feel my arms raising slightly and before I knew it I was lunging for him, sobs wreaking through my lips as tears flowed heavily from my eyes. Engulfing him in my arms, I feel him do the same with just as much ferocity. I hear sobs come from him too, his chest rising and falling quickly and sharply with each gasp of air.

Before anything could be said, I feel anger suddenly wash over me, leading me to remove my arms from around him and shove him away harshly, placing some distance between us.

A confused whimper leaves his mouth, clearly unintentionally, but before he could say anything I let months worth of hurt, confusion, upset and anger form into words and flow out freely.

"Gray where were you?! W-What did you mean 'don't tell her' that you woke up!! Do you know how long I waited for you to wake up in the hospital, unable to see you or hear from you, not knowing that you had long gone?! Do you- Do you know how long I WAITED fOR YOU? Three months Gray- three months that you were gone and I was waiting for you to wake up so that we could start over, so that I could know you were okay!" The words kept flowing out, no matter how much I tried to stop them. Although I didn't try. I couldn't bring myself to try. I started pacing back and forth as I rambled, making sure the emphasis on certain words came out.

"Carmen, let me explain, I-"

I cut him off, anger still clouding my better judgement.

"NO Gray, you don't get to explain until you hear me!! I searched EVERYWHERE for days, weeks, months for you, thinking that something had happened to you, only to be told by Chief that you had requested to not have your condition or whereabouts revealed to me! Why Gray, why..? If you were angry or upset at me and didn't want to see me, you could have just told me instead of making me worry like that! I spent so many nights awake trying to find out where you were with the help of Player, but nothing!! NOTHING!"

I heave out everything that has been resting on my shoulders, the feeling of relief evident on my shoulders as a weight had been lifted.

"Carmen I was never upset at you, more of I was upset at myself. It was my fault that you had been captured and lured in, I knew what was happening and I could have prevented it, but I didn't. I blamed myself for you being brainwashed and hurt, and for myself being hurt. I was such an idiot and I didn't want to do something that could hurt you again-"

"And yet you did.." I remark with a whisper, adverting my eyes as I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself and sniffling as I did so.

"I know and I'm sorry... I didn't want to interfere with your life, not after everything that had happened. VILE was caught and disbanded, you had information on your mother, everything was over and you had a fresh start ahead of you and I didn't want to get in the way of that. So, I changed my identity and lived away from the public eye, hidden away where you could not find me. It wasn't just a fresh start for you, it was one for me too... I asked for you to not be told of my departure, even though Cheif strongly suggested against it, the same with that Julia lady. I told them it was my only request, and they allowed it eventually. I now realise that wasn't a good idea and that it hurt you much more than I believed it could or would... I am so sorry Carmen.. I really am so, incredibly sorry.. I can't blame you if you are angry at me, I gue-"

"Of course I'm angry at you!! I finally realised after all of that time that I was in love with you, and I was prepared to tell you, only to find that you were gone! Those three months left in the dark were pure heaven compared to the.. the shitty, crappy, horrible feelings once I found out you were gone!"

I watch as Gray's eyes widen in surprise, as he stutters his next sentence, his face flushed from tears, much like my own.

"C-Carmen.. you- what did you just.. what did you just say?"

"That I realised after all of this time that I was in love with you, so very incredibly in love with you, and that I was prepared to tell you!" I growl.

We both stand there in silence, the cool feeling of my tears drying up on my face present. Sudden realisation dawns upon me at what I had just boldly announced. Smacking my hand over my mouth, I gasp, my eyes widening as the realisation finally sets in completely.

Nothing is said between us as we just stare one another in the eyes, waiting for the other to speak.

"Gray, I-"

I cut myself short as Gray abruptly strides towards me confidently, raising his hands to cup my cheeks as I step back, unsure of what was happening. Staring down into my eyes, Gray smiles gently.

"You always were a cheeky one, sneaking your way into my heart the way you did".

My stomach fills with butterflies at that, a small smile making its way onto my face, accompanied by little giggles. Soon enough, I was laughing uncontrollably into Gray's chest, him onto my shoulder.

The laughter died down soon after, we were just left with warm smiles on our faces.

Moving his hand across my face, his thumb stroking my cheek and his other hand caressed the back of my neck, he looks down at my lips before looking into my eyes.

"May I?"

That one sentence had my stomach doing flips as though I were a schoolgirl who just confessed her undying love to her crush and received the same feelings back, though I guess in some respects I was that schoolgirl, just a little older.

"You may".

With that, Gray leans down, pressing his lips gently against mine and pulling away. I did not feel those fireworks that people would describe a true-loves kiss as, rather I felt complete, safe, happy, joyous, excited, calm, at peace and so many more pleasant things, much better than those so described fireworks.

Leaning in for a second kiss, I met Gray halfway with just as much passion, more ferocity this time, however. Soon though, we had to depart for air, a gentle blush growing over both of our cheeks.

"Carmen, I-"

"Excuse me, are you two alright in there? I could faintly hear you arguing from next door".

Looking behind me, there was an older woman stood in the doorway, a concerned look on her face.

"Yes, we are alright madame, thank you for your concern. Sorry for the noise, everything is sorted now" I explain, turning to face the woman.

"Very well then, there is no need to apologise my dear, as long as you are both okay. Oh, and sorry for interrupting your moment"

The lady giggles cheekily, before making her way back to her booth while rambling on about young love, or something along the lines.

"We should probably close the door, no?"

"Yes, we should. You, mister, have a lot to explain to me, especially what you have been up to since we last saw one another".

I smile as I leave Grays embrace, walking to the door and closing it.

"As do you. We have a while till we reach my destination, so shall we?"

"Hmm... I say sleep and then explain at a later time, on a date perhaps?"

"Friday, 8PM at Au Vieux Paris d'Arcole?" Grey wiggles his eyebrows, a smile on his face as he does so.

Laughter bubbles in my throat as I sniffle, wiping away any tear streams on my face as I nod my head eagerly.

"Call it a date".

A/N: This is my first ever oneshot/story piece that I've done on here and I honestly do not know how good it is, or how bad it is. All I can hope is that it's decent. It was inspired by @wizardsoffthecoast who had mentioned something about this, so here we are. I hope you enjoy it!

(I do apologise for any spelling mistakes!)

[justatidalwaveoffeelings]

Ok, so I don't write. I have never written a fanfic. This doesn't have a name and it's probably poorly written. It's Rachel's point of view around the time of Cammie's second kidnapping attempt. I was bored and I had this idea stuck in my head so here it is. I debate not even posting it but what the hey🤷🏼‍♀️

@averagejoesolomon you totally got me hooked on the Rachel only calls Matt, Matthew. So all the credit to you on that one!

This whole thing is basically read at your own risk. Haha

Just like that, what she had left of her world was crumbling. It happened so quickly. Rachel hadn't seen what had happened. She just knew that one moment she had been talking to Cynthia McHenry and the next she felt her instincts as an operative hit her like a swift punch to the gut.

Something was wrong. She looked around the ballroom looking for Cammie but she didn't see her. She didn't see any of her freinds or even that Goode boy. Never one to be dissuaded from her mission, she  decided to look for Abby. She at least she might know where her neice was.

As much as her sister annoyed her, she was happy to have her back in her life. However temporary it might be. She was aware how an operative's life gets crazy. She knew her sister was dedicated but she didn't know how far they would be pulled apart when she stepped out of the field after Matthew's passing. They had just recently talked about why there hadn't been much contact between the two of them in recent years. Why Abby had walked farther away from Rachel and Cammie and deeper into her various covers. Rachel knew the guilt the came with losing Matthew. The countless nights that kept her up thinking about what might have happened if she told if him to stay home. If she had pulled the "wife card" and asked him not to keep secrets. She knew that Abby had been hurt. Rachel had never lived through anything harder. It didn't surprise her that everyone else who also loved him felt the same. When he died there was a very real whole in each of their hearts. She had suspected Abby just didn't know how to miss Matthew with her. After all, her sister had never been one to grieve in front of others. Rachel hadn't know just how deep routed her sister's guilt and regret had dragged her. Rachel regretted not going to get her baby sister back sooner after Matthew's passing but she hadn't wanted to press Abby too hard in a time of grief for both of them.

Now, if only she could FIND HER.  Her sister always had a knack for being where she wasn't supposed be. So, if Rachel could think if the most inconvenient spot for someone to be she might find her.

When she had finished looking around the ballroom the hair on the back of her neck started to stand on end. She felt a cold sweat start. Her blouse was too tight. She pulled at her collar and silently chastised herself being so obviously uncomfortable. Rachel wanted to tell her instincts to shut up, that nothing was wrong. She knew better though, something was off.

She felt eyes. She pretended to check her make-up in a small compact while checking behind her. She locked on a familiar pair of green eyes staring back at her. Of course he was there. She had just checked the whole room and hadn't spotted him once. If Joe was about to poke fun about her being off now was not the time. When she turned to face him she realized that he wore an expression just as grim as her own.

"You got the same sick feeling in your gut?"

Before she could respond something seemed to dawn on Joe.

"Where's Cammie, Rachel?"

"I don't know. I've been looking for her, or her roommates. Even Abby."

"Zach". Joe mumbled the boy's name. "He's probably with her, right? Did you see them slip out?"

"No, well maybe, but if I knew that I wouldn't be so gosh darn worried now would I, Joseph?!" She hadn't meant to snap but she was feeling worse by the second. Now her instincts seemed to be at work on her stomach.

When the shot went off they didn't question where it had come from. They didn't need to wait for some sort of command. Old habits did truly die hard.  They were across the ballroom in seconds. Not drawing the attention of a single onlooker. They slipped out the back door into a dark ally. The Circle. They were there. Beside her Joe started to speak into thier comms unit. There was a big problem. Rachel looked for Cammie. She was being snagged back down the ally, toward the safety of the door by Zach. Neirher of them was bleeding. She was able to breath agian. The bullet could have been a warning shot. It didn't feel that way though. Where did it land?

She brought herself back to the scene. They were after her daughter and she had to protect her daughter. The kids were fighting like operatives. That was something the headmistress in her couldn't have missed and was quietly proud of. Now only if they could all get out of it. Other gallagher girls rushed out beside her, ready for the fight, ready to protect Cammie.

The second that Rachel could she ran at Cam. Yelling Cammie's name she threw herself against her daughter, deeper into the shadows of other gallagher girls. Farther into safety. Only after the immediate securing of Cammie did Rachel realize that people were still screaming. It was Macey standing over.....

Abby. Abby. Abigail. She knew Cammie was secured. Joe would help make sure of it. She needed to get to her sister. She needed to help her sister. She was bleeding from the shoulder, there was so much blood pooling beneath her. Rachel couldn't breathe. She couldn't catch her breathe. Rachel had always been cool under fire; a natural operative. This felt so different. The operative in her was mad for missing the fight. For not getting there in time. The mother in her was scared and hurting for her daughter. The sister in her felt cheated and so very crushed. She couldn't lose Abby on top of everything else. Her heart beat to one terrible pulse-  She was not ready to lose anymore family. She dropped to her knees beside her sister. She didn't know if she had told Macey to go back to her roommates but she got up and walked away. Rachel pressed some leather jacket into her sister's wound. She didn't realize that she was crying until she saw her own tears falling on Abby's face. Rachel was screaming. She really. couldn't. breath. She heard screaming and crying in the background. Cammie. She couldn't take this or rather she didn't want to. Her sister way dying in front of her and her daughter was being emotionally tormented. She debating getting up, but she couldn't stop crying. She didn't want Cammie to see her so emotionally distraught and she couldn't bring herself to her feet. Cammie would have to be strong.

Joe was on the seeminly knew what she was thinking because instead of coming toward Abby he commanded the women around Cammie. Keeping her safe. Cammie's sobbing became softer. Rachel's didn't.

She didn't get up when the paramedic team arrived. She wasn't going to leave Abby. She couldn't lose her. She didn't feel like a good operative in control. She felt like a big sister, weak from all that crying. She felt Joe behind her. Pulling her up from her knees. Trying to tell her to let go of Abby's hand. She forced Joe to let go of her arms. Desperate to be the one who fixed it. To do something, anything. All she could do was tell the medic what she saw, and tell Abby that she was going to be ok.

When she turned back around he was there. Teary but not crying yet.

"She's strong. She'll pull through". He tried to reassure her but his voice shook. His hand on her arm felt unsteady. Joe never cried. It was going to be a long night. She had to keep busy. She went to check on her daughter. She couldn't lose any more of her family. 

Rachel saw the footage. She knew in that it all happened in a few minutes. It felt like this night would never end. She watched that security footage obsessively outside of her office, sitting on the corridor floor with her head on the wall, right underneath Gilligan's sword. Cavan's sword. Maybe Abby was right. They should have thrown it in the lake. Her daughter was asleep inside her office, away from danger for now. Abby was in surgery. Abby might of died. Abby could still die. Every time she let herself linger on that fact she felt like crying all over again. So, she didn't let herself think of it. She watched the security clip again waiting and watching for a clue. Something. She couldn't truly focus on it though. She was too tired or emotionally distraught. It didn't matter the reason, she knew that a truly great operative had to know when to wave her white flag. In that moment she didn't even feel a little guilty about turning off the video.

Joe stepped out of her office. She did a double take, the last time she had seen him look that way was the night he told her about Matthew. He had been crying. Joe Solomon does not cry. There he was though. He face was streaked eith tears and his shoulders shook slightly. She braced herself for the worse but he just stood there. He looked awful. She moved forward to give him a hug. She couldn't help herself, she started crying again too. Rachel hated to cry in front of anyone but she figured that this secret was safe with him, just like any of the other she had shared with him.  She was thankful that she had a freind in him. Thankful that someone else loved Cammie and was willing to fight for her. 

After a moment they separated and sat down on the corridor floors.

"I'm so sorry Rachel. I'm so so sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"Joe. After everything that's happened tonight, we are not going over this again..  Its not your fault". Joe started to cry again. Rachel hadn't seen Joe cry so much. She couldn't resist asking him

"What?"

He looked at her pitifully. "You don't know whats my fault, belive me. I.... I think you should think it's my fault."

She wasn't suprised that he was saying these things. She knew of course that he felt guilty. Matt went on the mission he was supposed to. She just wished that he didn't get so hung up on it.

He continued "This never would have happened if Matt were here. He would have taken care of it, you know?"

Of course she didn't know that to be true but she had felt it as well. She didn't want to dwell on what it could have been so she told him that they didn't know that. That he couldn't control who the director sent on that mission. The circle might have come after Cammie even if Matt was alive. Matthew was just a human being, who made mistakes. They didn't know if Matthew being alive would change everything. Joe didnt seem convinced though and Rachel couldn't blame him. It was well worn territory in a familiar conversation. They didnt truly fight, but when it came to blame about Matthews death they didn't exactly see eye to eye. Rachel thought about Matt. It struck her though that as bad as it was at times it could also be worse. Rachel thought about losing Cammie or Abby or even Joe and shuddered. She didn't want to lose anymore family.

She tried to reassure him

"Hey, it will be ok. We will take care of it together ok? We'll all take care of one another. We will do the best we can. Just promise me we will try. Ok?"

Joe had stopped crying but his attention seemed to be drifting.

"I'll try...ok?" It sounded so defeated. Rachel didn't want to press him further. Everyone had already had such a rough night. She let the conversation go until he quipped.

"I feel like I should be telling you these things."

They couldn't help each giving a small laugh

They sat there. They waited for a doctor to come tell them that Abby would make it. They sat and waited for Cammie to wake up. Theorized ways to keep her out of harms way. They talked about surviving. All of them. Together.

Rachel rested in knowing that at least for that day. She wasn't losing any more family. 

[incandescent-creativity]

Teleportation counts, right?

There isn’t any time for further discussion. The Alkusian has led us to a small circle on the ground, or maybe in it. It’s hard to tell when it shines so brightly with blinding golden light. He walks around it, putting the teleport in between him and the two of us. The Alkusian crouches slightly, and pauses, and makes direct eye contact with each of us. We can’t exchange any words, obviously, but the movements are deliberate, like he wants to make sure we are watching. As if I would be doing anything else.

The Alkusian representative takes a big, deliberate step into the center of the circle, and quickly places his other foot next to the first one. He takes a deep inhale for approximately three seconds, and then dissolves into golden light as an exhale.

“Cool,” Zach comments, vastly understating the importance of what we just witnessed. As I move away from him, to the opposite side of the circle, he says, “Wait, you’re going next?”

I pause. “I would like to be the first human in Alkusa, even if it’s just for a few seconds.”

His eyebrows jump once as he nods. “Sure, of course. I just thought you didn’t trust me enough to let me follow after you.”

That’s the second good point he has made in a row, and the second one I know how to answer.

“And go back to Director Rush and admit you made my job harder by ignoring the request the representative made for both of us? That doesn’t sound like you, Zach.”

Zach’s mouth twists, as if he hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Maybe if I was a touch more selfish,” he agrees, and I hear the implied “Like you” at the end of his sentence.

Fixing my eyes on the circle instead of the petulant, pale chatterbox in front of me, I consider which foot to start with.

“Do you think it will stay here after we go?” Zach wonders out loud, breaking my concentration. “Like, will this be a permanent way to get to Alkusa now?”

“No,” I snap, “it only stays open for as long as the mages on the other side are feeding their magic into it, and they are literally keeping their initial casting wounds open for us, so will you let me get to it?”

“If you’re so worried about it,” he argues in return, “then get in there already.”

“I’m going,” I tell him.

“Keep a grip on Tiny,” he tells me.

“Mind your own business,” I tell him.

I’m not worried about Tiny. I saw that the Alkusian’s clothes went with him, which means that my bag will, and Tiny should, too. She better; we’ll have to start from scratch if she doesn’t, and I don’t have the skills or the knowledge to go about translating things.

Partly to get away from Zach, and partly to actually get out of my own head and just do the damn thing, I plant both feet into the teleport circle.

The pain I am bracing for doesn’t hit me. Nothing really happens to me at all, except that my eyes get blurry like when you just wake up from sleep and still have a film over them, or when they fill with tears. As I try blinking them away, I remember to exhale. Bright, yellow light, like concentrated sunshine, overwhelms my sight.

I can’t blink through it right away, so I am still trying when a slicing pain travels down the inside of my forearm. My other hand flies to it, and I enter Alkusa with blood seeping between my fingers.

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[onebatch2batch]

Heyo, dialogue prompts: 14 or 30? 😊

HI THIS WAS FROM FOREVER AGO BUUUUUT that's my m.o. so here we are. Hope you like it!!

And no, I'm never going to stop writing different versions of Frank and Karen getting together, you can't make me :)

--

14. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Frank can practically hear David scheming, and he’s proven right when an anthropomorphic mop of hair bends into his line of sight and he says, “Hey, remember in the bunker, when we were still on the run?”

They’re both standing in David’s front yard. Frank’s van is in need of an oil change and a replacement filter and since he’s not keen on anyone else working on his getaway vehicle, he called up David to request use of his paved, suburban driveway. It’s been a few weeks since he’s managed to get over here, and David had instantly agreed on the condition that Frank stay for dinner. It’s a beautiful summer day, even if it’s a little hot, and he’s feeling a little off-kilter from the sounds of children playing all around. It’s so painfully normal that for a moment he’d regretted asking, and then David had offered him a drink. The taller computer genius doesn’t know shit about cars, so he’s alternating between fetching more beers and talking Frank’s ear off. It’s been about an hour now, and Frank has slowly relaxed into the background noise.

“Yeah,” Frank responds dryly around the flashlight between his teeth. He’s elbow deep in grease and not really interested in where this line of questioning is going to go, but David has other ideas.

“Uh huh. You know, when you got yourself on the news after that kid held Karen hostage?”

If Frank is affected by the name, all David notices is a sharp glance. “Yeah.”

“And how you freaked out and begged for my help and said she was family?”

Frank straightens and sets the flashlight down on the bumper of the car. “You got a point, Lieberman? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I have a point. Was that all just bullshit, or what?”

They stare at each other. Frank’s jaw ticks.

“...what.”

“Thought so.”

“No, what?”

“Well you made this huge declaration and then almost got yourself killed trying to rescue her so--”

“God damn it, Lieberman, you’re never going to let that go, are you--”

David shakes his head, exasperated. “I mean, we haven’t even gotten to meet her yet and it’s been six months since Madini used her government wiles to give you a new identity--”

Frank scowls. “It’s none of your--”

The other man cuts him off quickly, hands up. To Frank’s immense displeasure, the other man looks less cowed and more placating. “I’m just saying, invite her to dinner next week. What harm is there? Maybe something good might happen to you for once, god forbid.” His friend stares him down, using every couple of inches of height to try and look intimidating. Of course it doesn’t work, but Frank is too busy thinking about having a family dinner with Karen, with his friends, like a normal person. Like a couple. He realizes too slow that David is leering at him, pleased.

“David, shut the hell up.”

“You’re blushing. Is that a yes? I’ll tell Sarah.”

--

Karen doesn’t question it when Frank calls her up after half a year of radio silence. She asks if it's a casual dress dinner and what kind of wine to bring, and then announces she’s got to go and she’ll see him Friday at six sharp.

He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than her just telling him to shove it.

--

Friday creeps up on him, and by the time he parks outside of her apartment it hasn’t really sunk in that he’s about to take Karen Page to a domestic dinner in the suburbs. Because it’s definitely not a date, even though it kind of is. It’s the stuff he used to do with Maria and the kids all the time when he was on leave; double dates and cook outs and all that crap. He’s rusty as hell and usually shit company, but they keep asking him back. And now, he’s throwing Karen into the mix.

It’s a feeling similar to being shot in the head and waking up in a hospital room. Disorienting and uncomfortable as hell.

He picks her up in the van, leaning against the side of it as he waits. The Lieberman’s neighborhood is outside the city, about a twenty minute drive. It’s going to give them plenty of time to talk, and he’d barely restrained himself from looking up conversation starters online before leaving his place. He doubts there’s any suggestions for a vigilante-cum-construction worker who’s picking up a date he’s spoken a handful of words to for the first time in six months. He’s just considering cancelling the whole thing when the door to her building opens and she steps out.

He’s seen Karen a lot of ways. He’s seen her in pencil skirts and heels and blouses, in tshirt and jeans, bruised and bloody. He’s never seen her in a sundress with her pinked shoulders bare to the world and strappy sandals on her feet. Her hair is in a long braid over her shoulder. She looks fucking resplendant. Absolutely divine. Fucking poetry in motion.

He’s fucked.

“Hi,” she greets, coming to a stop in front of him. She’s got a bottle of wine in her hands. Her eyes punch little, individual question marks into his skin when she searches his face.

“Hey.” He inhales, bracing for her reaction. His throat closes up when he gets a whiff of her perfume. So familiar from the handful of times he’s been close enough to smell it--something soft and floral, something that makes his head swim. He thinks back to that moment so many months ago, swaying together in the elevator, her skin against his, her perfume subtle under the metallic tang of blood.

Karen doesn’t immediately go for interrogating him. She only lifts the bottle in her hand. “I brought a white, is that okay?”

Wary relief loosens the knot at the top of his spine. He nods, pushing off the car to open her door. “Sure.”

When Karen climbs in, carefully arranging her skirt around her, the dark interior contrasting with the soft yellow of her dress, Frank thinks about a conversation with Curtis all those months ago. Wonders when the kick is coming.

They spend the first ten minutes looking out separate windows and listening to the radio. After that, Karen starts talking like she’s made her mind up about the evening is going to go. She asks him how he’s been, if he’s gotten a job, how Dinah is, what the Liebermans are like. Nothing is accusatory. They could be old friends passing one another on the street, the way she’s talking. Almost like she’s talking to a scared dog. Coaxing it out of a corner.

Guess he deserves that.

By the time he pulls onto the appropriate street, it almost feels normal. They’ve fallen into a familiar back and forth that’s easy to keep up with, and when he opens her door she gives him a small grateful smile, accepting his hand on the way down.

He’s not disappointed when she lets go to straighten the fabric of her dress. He’s not.

--

As always, the Lieberman household is an explosion of domesticity. There’s shoes on the stairs, a sweet smelling candle burning on the coffee table, toys and books strewn over the floor. Pictures line the walls. When Frank knocks on the door, Zach opens it like he’s been waiting for them.

“ Hi, Pete!” he greets excitedly, and then his eyes land on Karen. “Who’s that?”

“Hello, I’m Karen Page.” She crouches down to look him in the eye and smiles. “You must be Zach, right?”

He flushes, twisting his fingers nervously. “Yeah. Are you Pete’s girlfriend?”

They’re saved from answering by a sudden, high pitched shriek. “Frank!!”

Karen manages to stand out of the way just in time for Leo to come barrelling down the stairs directly into Frank, hugging him tightly around the middle.

“Frank, Dad says you were here Saturday but you were gone before I left Ann’s house!!” she pulls away and waves a book at him. “I’m reading the book you told me about!”

He grins down at her. “I waited around for ya, but your mom said you wouldn’t be home until later. How’s the book, huh?”

She scrunches her nose. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know. Are you Karen?”

Karen laughs. “I sure am. Leo, right?”

“That’s me. Come on, my mom is in the kitchen.” She nudges Zach and then four of them head into the other room. Sarah Lieberman is standing behind the kitchen counter, chopping up a head of lettuce. When they walk in, she beams at them.

“Hey guys, welcome! Hang on, let me finish this. Pete, David’s out in the garage trying to fix the sprinklers. Can you--?”

Frank rolls his eyes. “Say no more.”

He lifts his brows at Karen, but she gives him a jerk of her head. Frank huffs and stalks off after kissing Sarah on the cheek, Leo trailing after him talking about sprinkler systems and tools. Zach joins his mother behind the counter and peers at Karen curiously. She sets the bottle of wine down.

“So Karen!” Sarah exclaims, dumping the lettuce into a bowl. “Let’s get you a glass of wine and chat. How’s that sound?”

--

They end up on the patio furniture. After completing the salad and sides, Sarah turns on the grill and then ushers them to the corner of the patio, refilling their glasses.

“So,” she starts, and peers at Karen over the rim of her glass. “I’m going to be forward, but I get the feeling you’ll appreciate that. What’s the deal with you and Pete? Sorry--habit. Frank.”

Karen could have guessed this was coming, even if she expected a little more subtlety. And Sarah’s right, she appreciates the bluntness. It gives her a chance to answer in kind.

“I don’t know.” She runs a finger over the rim of her glass, frowning. “I haven’t--we haven’t spoken in...a while. Six months, actually. And the last time I saw him..well, it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I thought I scared him off, actually.”

“How so?”

And the story falls out of her mouth, in pieces. She hasn’t spoken to anyone about Frank, about her feelings for him--the good or bad--or about that afternoon in the hospital. “--and I thought...I thought maybe he would finally kiss me.” She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. “And then he pulled that I’m not a hero bullshit and that’s the last I saw of him. Until he called this week.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “That sounds like him. Honey, did you know when we first met he was gathering information on David?”

“Ah, yes. I was the one who found David for him.” She grimaces. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be! We’re lucky he came looking. Without him…” she shrugs. “I would still be a widow. And my kids still wouldn’t have their father. I’m just trying to say he may do things backwards, but he ends up doing things for the right reasons. Even if it takes him time to figure that out.”

--

Dinner goes well. Dinner goes really, really well. Not that Frank was worried--there isn’t a person alive who can sit down with Karen Page and at the very least admire her. The Liebermans fall in love with her immediately. The kids demand that she stay for a board game after dinner. Leo brags about her science project. Zach shyly asks if Karen likes football. Sarah drills her with questions about her job. David keeps her laughing while stupid jokes and send Frank knowing glances throughout dinner that makes Frank want to throw peas at him.

Karen is charming, sweet, and great with the kids. She gets along with David and Sarah, and sends him warm, unsure smiles until dessert.

They play Apples to Apples, and the kids decimate. Karen is a close third. Frank loses terribly, but he’s still busy ruminating over the warm feeling in his chest at the cacophony of noise that surrounds him as everyone submits to another peal of laughter to notice.

“Frank,” Leo says innocently once they’ve put the board game away and Sarah has told the kids it’s time for bed. She stands in the doorway to the kitchen and looks at him sternly, hands on her hips. “Please bring Karen around more. It’s not fair that you get to hog her and we’ve just met.”

“Leo, that’s Miss Page to you.” Sarah tries for sharpness but ends up laughing. “Off to bed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“Bye Miss Page!” the kids chorus, and then it’s just the adults.

“Great kids,” Karen laughs. “Smart, too. You’re in trouble.”

Sarah sighs and pats her husband’s cheek fondly. “Yeah, we know. Somehow both of them got his brain.”

David chuckles, turns quickly to press a kiss to his wife’s palm. “At least they didn’t get my hair,” he jokes.

Karen sneaks a glance at Frank, then quickly looks away. He catches it, just briefly, as does David.

“Sarah, we should probably make sure the kids are actually brushing their teeth. I’ll tackle Leo if you tackle Zach, tag team it? We’ll be right back, guys.”

It’s quiet in the kitchen after that. Karen takes a sip of her wine and taps her fingers. There’s something on her mind, he can tell. When she doesn’t say anything he leans forward to capture her gaze. “What is it?”

“Why now, Frank?” Karen asks.

The conversation he’s been dreading. A feeling of shame bubbles up so suddenly it nearly knocks him off his chair. He scratches his neck for no reason other than to expel the nervous energy building in him.

“I didn’t want to…” There’s no use pretending like they’re talking about something else, not when she’s staring at him like that. Like she's been waiting all night for this conversation while he’s been tricking himself into thinking it may not happen. His finger dances restlessly on the table top. “I didn’t want to get you sucked back in.”

“Into what?” She arches a brow. “You?”

“Me. My life. My goddamn baggage. I know you deserve better than me.” He clears his throat. “So I wanted you to have a chance to live your life without my ghosts hanging around.”

“Frank Castle,” Karen sighs, exasperated, “please don’t tell me you’re making decisions for me. And that still doesn’t answer my question--why now?”

His expression tightens. “C’mon Karen. I’m just tryin’ to keep you safe--”

“How many times do I have to tell you--”

“As many as it ta--”

“Frank--” David steps into the kitchen, Sarah in tow. They pause, looking between the two people seated at the table awkwardly. “Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“No, David. Thank you both for tonight. I think I should be going.” Karen stands and looks at Frank. “I have loved you for two years, Frank. No amount of avoiding me or trying to protect me is going to change that. Excuse me.”

And then she walks away.

--

He catches up to her just down the street. As soon as he sees that familiar head of blond hair he pulls the van over and hops out, jogging to catch up. Karen glances at him and then pauses, as if waiting for something.

“Let me drive you home,” he asks. “Please.”

He doesn’t take her home straight away; she doesn’t ask. Frank drives until he finds a spot overlooking the water. The heat has finally broken and a cool breeze comes in through the open window, stirring Karen’s hair. He shuts off the engine. They sit in silence while he tries to decide what to say.

“I guess I should start by apologizing,” he says finally, tapping the steering wheel. He’s past nervous, he just wants to fix his own screw up. “I’m sorry, Karen. I don’t want to make any decisions for you. I should have--I should have talked to you about it. I should have started this conversation a long time ago.”

“So, start it.” She’s watching him, waiting. There’s a tense expression on her face--like she’s either trying not to cry, or trying not to smile. Or tell him off. He’s not sure which, yet.

Frank clears his throat. “Okay. Uh. I’m not gonna make excuses, I’m just gonna tell you what I know. I know that I have done some shit, and I’m going to continue doing that shit. I’m not ever gonna be normal. I know that you’re smart as hell, and you check me, and you’re a fucking force of nature. I know that I have been telling myself that you deserve more than some--fuckin’ vigilante who wakes up to nightmares more than he doesn’t. I know you deserve to be safe and happy. You deserve more than I can give you. But uh,” he takes her hand cautiously, waits for her to pull away, relaxes when she doesn’t, “...I wanna try.”

“You gotta mean it, Frank,” she says, voice watery. “You better fucking mean it.”

“I mean it. I swear to Christ, I mean it.”

She pulls her hand away and for a millisecond, he thinks he’s said something wrong. Then she’s unbuckling her seat belt and clamoring over the armrest into his lap. It’s not the most majestic first kiss he’s ever had (of which there are few) but her breath is hot on his lips and her fingernails scrape gently over his scalp as if entreating him closer. Frank makes a low groan that he hasn’t heard from himself in a long time--too long--and then Karen shifts and his breath catches in his throat. The heat of her, all wrapped up in his arms, her hair falling over one shoulder as she peppers his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw with the tiniest of kisses.

He could have ruined this without even knowing. He almost ruined it before it even happened.

“I do want you, you know,” Karen murmurs against the skin of his jaw, fingers grasping his shirt. “All of you.”

“I know.”

“Does that scare you?”

He pushes gently until he can look her in the eyes. “A little,” he admits. “I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“You’re doing okay so far,” she says, smiling. “Now that you’ve pulled your self-deprecating head out of your ass.”

“Took me long enough.” He cradles the back of her head in one hand, drawing her closer until their lips meet again. They’re both uncomfortable at the weird angle but it’s not until the horn beeps once, gaining the attention of a woman walking her dog, that Karen reluctantly returns to her seat.

They work to catch their breaths, watching the water.

“The Liebermans aren’t upset I left so--...abruptly, right?”

“Nah,” Frank chuckles, grasping her hand. He finds an indescribable amount of comfort in brushing his thumb over the ridges over her knuckles. “Actually, I think they like you better for it. Sarah almost chased me out of the house with a goddamn spatula.”

“I knew I liked her. Take me home? I’ll make coffee.”

“It’s a date.”

--

Frank’s phone lights up that night. If he were to reach an arm over and hold it up to see, David’s text would read, WELL?? Did you get the girl, Lloyd Dobler?

But he doesn’t. He tugs Karen closer and goes back to sleep.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 149

So, I was super busy on my normal queueing day and wasn’t able to set this up. And by ‘super busy’ I mean ‘doing laundry, weeding flower beds, and taking several naps’, bc I have upwards of 24 niblings and a super-full time job that make me exhausted.

I’m not kidding, I recently told @baelpenrose “I had a birthday party to go to, yes it’s the third Saturday in a row, don’t worry about keeping track because there are SO MANY”. 

What doesn’t make me exhausted? Y’all. The likes, the comments, the reblogs, the ‘hey, this person reads my stuff AND Bael’s stuff’ ( @feral-possums-in-the-bog, @drbibliophile, looking at you in a very loving way). Also the speedrunners... all of you who have ever, at any point, found this fic and decided to read every single chapter as quickly as possible ( and have or haven’t shamed me for needing to update the masterpost or page links), you keep me going like nothing else. I, too, like a good binge read, so I know I’ve done something worth... something... when someone else binges like that.

“So the Ark is semi-organic?” I glanced over and resisted the urge to trail my fingers along the walls of the corridor.

“That would be the closest Terran approximation, yes,” they confirmed. “It is not sentient in any form, but all exposed surfaces, for example, are grown in-place of a material native to our home planet.”

“So cool,” I whispered. “Is there a benefit to that, aside from being more sustainable?”

Noah rubbed two liw alongside their sensory organs, and let out a soft buzz - essentially rubbing their face with a sigh. “It is very rare for any species that achieves sentience to reach a level of technology that allows for faster than light travel without what you refer to as sustainability being included in every aspect of their culture.”

“Oh.” I felt ashamed and focused on my feet for a few steps, paying close attention to the feeling of the deck plating through my soles, any uneven textures that I came across turning into canyons of perception.

“In the case of the material coating the surfaces of the Ark,” Noah continued, clearly picking up on my discomfort, “it serves a largely hygienic function, much as Else currently provides.”

“So, that’s what Xio was referring to when she said that Hujylsogox ships largely decontaminate themselves?”

“Indeed. Where my species absorbs impurities from the air and any surfaces we come in contact with, the lining of the corridors, rooms, and vents can purify the rest within a Galactic week.” That worked out to eleven and two-third days as we currently measured them on the Ark, or fourteen and a half days on Earth. “Biofiltration is a very common way to sanitize spaces that often house multiple species to avoid destructive interactions, although the coating we use is known to be the most efficient organic solution.”

Surrendering, I ran my fingers over the wall.  Even knowing that it was grown, it still felt like sandstone under my touch. “If it is so efficient, why don’t the Ekomari use it on their ships?”

Their fingers on both vomu clacked as they tapped them together. “In absence of another organism to ingest the larger particulates, sypo is what you would consider to be too efficient.”

“Feathers clog it up?”

“Like you would not believe,” they hummed deeply - a groan, clear as day. “It actually ends up starving the sypo.”

Unbidden, my mind’s eye flashed back to the nightmares that Else had shown me early on: large flakes of the walls falling away and littering the corridor floors. “So, that was a very real thing?” There didn’t seem to be any reason to clarify, given how clearly the images had blared in my head.

“Correct. We believe that Else understood the nature of the material and was trying to show you what was happening in a way they thought you would understand.” A heavy liw gently patted my shoulder. “They meant well, even if they did not realize that it would backfire.”

I was about to ask what the Ekomari use in place of sypo as a biofilter, but my databand signaled me. Judging by the fact that it chimed, flashed, and vibrated against the bones in my wrist, this was incredibly urgent. “I’m sorry, Noah, one mom - ah, fuck…” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mentally braced myself for what I knew would be coming in the next several days.

“Wisdom, you are distressed.”

“Departmental notification from Pranav and Zach that they will be doing system security testing over the next week. Which means Derek will be doing his best to hack into our systems and take them out, while Pranav and Zach take notes of vulnerabilities and then fix them afterward.”

The face-rubbing sigh was back. “They are not including basic ship functions in this testing, correct?”

I shook my head, relieved that I could at least provide that assurance. “Negative. Only the systems that humans will be replicating on our own once we are on Von.”

“This is still terribly inconvenient. These tests increase tension across the Ark to quite difficult levels to be around.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s mostly from what happened Before, at least for the older members of the crew.  I mean, we got a Global Parliament out of it, but… there were a scary few years before we got there. And then the End happened, and the hack felt like some kind of warning looking back.”

Noah buzzed thoughtfully. “You are speaking of the gap in data we found when we were trying to download your planetary database.”

A part of me wanted to laugh at the fact that Miys continued to refer to the internet as a ‘planetary database’, but the topic was so upsetting that any kind of joy felt obscene right then. “It was… another terrorist attack, honestly.  They weren’t unusual, as terrifying as that is - I mean, you admitted yourself that not all of us were worth saving.  There was a petrochemical hack maybe five years before this one, and the attacks had been ramping up slowly even before that.  But this one.”  I shook my head trying to clear the thoughts from my head. “What we were told is that this group knew we would never take action against climate change, something about how the rich corporate would never take it seriously until they had to actually live in the nature they were destroying.”

“You are doubtful of this.” Noah’s statement was far from being a question.

Couldn’t blame him, since I didn’t believe half of what we had been told, or maybe that it was only half the story. “I wasn’t old enough to remember, but it is a recorded fact that there were actual people on Earth who had more wealth than any single country on the planet, and one was particularly known for building his fortune on the backs of employees who were worked to death or nearly to death.  It’s hard to believe that had nothing to do with it, you know.”

“If being reminded of this event causes such distress among your people, why run so many tests?”

“The hack killed people, Noah. It destroyed entire small countries, caused a lot of violence and wars. The ultra-rich may have been the targets, but the casualties were mostly people who never knew what was happening.  We want to make sure it can’t happen again.  That’s why we warn everyone what’s going on, so they know it’s not the same thing, but still do the testing.”

More clattering of vomu signaled Noah thinking again. “Your global economy depended strongly on the concept of wealth and the concept of money.  But with the current economic model you exercise, such a data security breach would not impact it.”

I shrugged. “We still worry. Not to mention the fact that, at some point, someone may try. We can try all we want to avoid the catalyst of the original events, but some of our better qualities can be just as terrible with just a twist.  Curiosity, confidence, and justice and easily turn into pride, vindictiveness, and prying. Which can lead to blackmail. And that’s just one example. Still sure we’re worth it?”

Another thoughtful buzz with some mild clicking. “I have seen your people endeavor to save a species that could have destroyed you.  I have seen you, specifically, mourn someone who deliberately attempted to end not only your life but the lives of the entire Ark.  There is much evidence to give us faith in your compassion.”

All I could do was shake my head. “I’ll try to have faith in your faith,” I murmured with a weak smile.

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[emeto-omo]

I saw someone else asked for Sephiroth emeto fic, and I second it. When you can, I'd love to see something like that from you. I can't think of exact scenarios but I love it when characters are excruciatingly nauseous or heave repeatedly but can't get anything out no matter how hard they try. Also when they desperately try avoid it for as long as possible, swallowing it back and pretending they're fine until it forces its way out, spraying out from around their hand and/or out their nose.

What? Not me answering prompts again after a large hiatus! Thank you for such a fun, unique prompt. I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to write a FFVII one! I hope this is alright! Title: Didn't Have It In Him Characters: Sephiroth Universe: FFVII Crisis Core Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32240563 Summary: Always the show of strength and stoicism, Sephiroth stomach is betraying him in the worst way. Disclaimer: Graphic descriptions of vomit are in this story. ~*~ Sephiroth remained stoic as he returned to the locker room after training. He moved slower than the others, but no one thought any thing of it. If they did, they didn’t say a word. Why would they? Most folks either worshipped him or was afraid of him, and at work, they knew not to bother him. He was grateful that Zach at least was out on duty, it wouldn’t have done to have the puppy nipping at his heels when he felt like this. His stomach gave a sour gurgle as he sat and waited for the showers to clear out. For most, it seemed like he sat in quiet contemplation, but hiding his face behind a silver curtain of hair, he swallowed against the nausea. His mouth filled with unwanted saliva, his adam’s apple bobbing ominously with every forced gulp to try to keep whatever turmoil was going on inside him down.

He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, listening as the conversations ended, footsteps leaving one by one, showers finished and gear put away. He belched beneath his breath, letting it escape putrid and sour through his nose and almost gagged again. He was grateful when the final soldier left, opening his eyes to peer down at his hands that shook slightly from the nausea and the energy his body was putting in trying to cope with it.

He stood, wobbly on his usually sure feet, and made his way for the showers, taking his gear off along the way to leave on the bench outside. A hiccupped belch escaped him and his fingers flew to his lips, sure that something with more substance was soon to spill forth. He gagged weakly, stomach roiling as a small bit of spittle slipped forth that he spat on the floor, but it seemed the moment passed and he swallowed weakly as he continued on.

Cold water rushed forward first, and for a bit, it was soothing until he began to shake and shiver more…then he couldn’t seem to get it hot enough. The violent shakes made the nausea worse, every muscle in his body tensing, and he pressed his hand to his mouth as the door reopened to the locker room. He listened, hearing someone rummaging, a rookie likely having forgotten his keycard in his hurry to leave. It stretched on while his mouth filled again, this time with a more sour, acidic, thicker saliva that he gagged hard behind his hand before he could stop himself. He swallowed desperately, gagging again before he cold with a loud belch.

“Everything all right in there?” The recruit called, likely not having even checked to see whom he was checking on. “Out!” Came Sephiroth’s cold directive, and the audible squeak that sounded let him know they knew sure as anything now as they rushed out, the door closing in time for a viscous brown spray of vomit to escape between Sephiroth’s bare fingers and nose, splattering against wall and floor and feet. The shower hit it, beginning to dissolve it immediately, but watching it dancing within the drops forced another churn of his stomach. “HRRRUUUUUPPPP!” He wretched loudly, bringing up his own shower of puke, far thicker this time that hit with an ugly wet slop against the tile. Barely had he time for breath or to brace himself against the wall before his stomach jerked hard and he half-choked, coughing as chunks expelled hard enough to travel with some distance against the stall divider, sliding down slow.

“Buuuurrrruuuuupp!” He belched as the tail end turned into another thick stream of puke, the power of his spotting his vision for a moment, and he found himself going to his knees, holding his stomach. The muscles were sore as his tummy hitched, rolled beneath his fingers, and pressed a more liquid stream through his nose and lips, burning with pure acid. He had to catch himself on the floor, something soft squishing beneath his palm as it found purchase on a wet pile of chunk that hadn’t fully dissolved down the drain. His eyes watered as it instantly triggered a painfully loud dry heave that echoed off the walls. “Fuc---uuuuugggghhhh!” He had cursed just to belch and gag again, a strained sound leaving him as the reflex strained for almost too long for him to bear, veins bulging in his neck as his face began to redden. He gagged again, and again, retching painfully, unproductively, while he could still hear the wet gurgles of his upset stomach begging to be released. Desperately, he turned his face up toward the shower’s warm spray and let it fill his mouth, swallowing hard and forcing it down. Another gulp, then another gulp, the nausea turned worse than ever…dizzyingly so. The heat of the liquid seemed to float on whatever was down there, and though he gagged, it refused stubbornly to come up. With no other sign of this stopping, he brought long, pale fingers to his lips, hesitating onto a moment before he passed them through. He coughed and gagged before they were past his tongue, but forced himself to hold them there, pressing deeper til he could work them in and out in his throat, pressing down some on the back of his tongue. Like a waterfall, water rushed up with bile, stinging his nose once more, choking him as his hand moved too slow, covered with throat slime as he expelled it violently against the shower floor, feeling it splash back against his face. He wretched unproductively, breath hitching, before a guttural sound escaped him and he brought up one more productive wave, leaving pink-tinged mucus hanging from his lips. He breathed heavily, his face a mess with saliva and snot, both thick and viscous just spilling slowly out of him for a moment before he found enough peace within himself to work to clean himself up. Slow and steady he first let the water slip over his face, then used to clear the shower walls and the ground, before he would focus what little energy he had left to clean himself up. No reason return back to the lab and give Hojo any excuses for further testing. He just didn’t have it within him today. ~fin~

[fuckzachariah]

aleburton​:

Her breathing quickened, chest rising and falling in a balanced rhythm. Each inhale of warm, opaque air forcing her breasts beneath the stream of drubbing shower water. Even the more modest sensations seemed to arouse her. The cushions of her fingers rolled softly around the now swollen gem, and she could feel it thrumming heavily against them. The silken skin there had reddened, the inside of her cavern aching to be filled with something. He called her name and it felt as if she had been beckoned to Heaven. Why did it always sound so much more beautiful when he said it? She sighed aloud, watching as he wreathed his fingers around the shape of his cock. He had seen her, tasted her even only moments ago but it felt like a lifetime since she was able to indulge in every gorgeous inch of him. She came to rest as he lowered the sopping material down his hips, his thighs. It seemed as if he undressed himself at a painfully slow pace, but the wait was undeniably worth it. He recoiled, the considerable length nearly grazing his navel.

Her mouth fell open. She had seen him nude more times than she could count and erect likely the same, but she did not remember ever seeing him this hard. She also had difficulty understanding how she had ever been able to skillfully manage something of his size. Was she fucking mad? Zach took hold of himself; fingers encircling his thick girth and began to stroke upward and back. She was immobilized, attempting to absorb as much of the explicit visual as she possibly could. After tonight, she was unsure of when something like this might occur again. They fucked up, crossed a perilous line like it was nothing. Surely eyes would be stalking their every movement, encouraging them to take caution. Be smart. Don’t rush. This would allow Zach to have her dreams and Alex to have hers – at least in the interim. He surprised her, a tribute to her beauty sung delicately into the air. She wondered what she had done to deserve someone who loved her this much, thought she had hung the moon and each of the stars. Her lust was like a powerful incantation, cleansing her mind if the harrowing truth.

His plea had triggered something inside of her. Submission. A desire to please. Why wouldn’t she want to give him every single thing he asked for? Alex materialized before him, feeling him prod freely against the small muscles of her stomach. She pressed a wet kiss to his sternum, to his stomach, & to a single corner of the carved V-shape that led to his groin. This had taken her down to the floor, balanced on the tops of her knees; his lusty cock bobbing in front of her. She glimpsed up at him for permission though she knew it was unnecessary. It practically leapt toward her with each violent switch. She wreathed her hand around his base, fingers hardly closing around it and lifted him upward, planning the smooth, flat surface of her tongue against the underside of his shaft. The movement was slow, intentional until she reached his head. The tip of her tongue lapped softly against it, an ultra-fine, briny string of sap connecting to her mouth to his tip. She groused at the taste, swallowing the tiny droplet before speaking, “And in these dreams, did you ever cum in my mouth? I just wonder what would happen if you did it in real life…”

They had seen one another naked with almost as much frequency as they had clothed, but it was usually frenzied and mystified, too close to admire the broader picture. He’d seen her in carven segments; a flinching shoulder, sharply protruding collarbone, gasping mouth, flexing abdomen, peaking nipple, exposed throat. He watched her now as a divinity, an entire picture; how every part of her came together in an undulating, rippling whole. How the kinking of her finger just so caused a twitch in her forearm caused a tremble in her knee caused a popping of her jaw. Her hair began to take its natural shape, falling in wet, heavy waves over her shoulder and chest. And a sound came from her like something and nothing he’d ever heard before. It felt as though nobody on earth had ever been witness to something so singular in all of history.

And it seemed she felt similarly. A shock ran through him as he watched her eyes fall upon the length springing from his discarded briefs, her mouth popping open as though she’d never seen anything quite like it. Like him. Both this, and acting only under her instruction, meant the pull of his own hand felt sinful as heaven. She always had a way of pinching him in a fugue state between realities, so aroused that curses and pet names and lurid phrases fell from his tongue as easily as he took a breath. Often without thought - entirely instinctual. Like now. He plead for her and a second later he could barely remember having done it, if not for her immediate and paralysing response. He seemed to black out and when he came to, she was near him, the tip of him knocking warningly against her stomach. Zach was locked in the steadfast moment between knowing. There was something in her gaze; something he’d done or said or been had set her alight.

Then she pressed her lips on him, over the bones that trapped his long shadowed heart. It seemed to burst into flames. It occurred to him just how long it had been since he’d felt her mouth - longer than they’d ever been together. Nothing was so certain than his need to feel them again. And again, and again. In the morning they would start over and he would have to mourn their loss, but the thought perished as quickly as it was born, because now her lips flourished on the solid plains of his inked stomach. He flinched beneath her, not in reservation but rife anticipation. She was sinking, sinking, like a hundred and one fantasies and dreamscapes and his former reality he had spent months yearning for. Then she kneeled, appraising his size with the flit of her gaze, before it connected with his own. His pupils dilated as they met, almost bleeding over the gilded hazel and into the whites of his eyes.

Zach found himself unable to speak, only the slack of his lips acting as an affirmation, his hands sliding over the bar at the small of his back to brace himself. She took him in her hand and he was weak; a full breath dribbling from his lower lip. He could only watch, hands-off, entirely hers to handle. It was so unlike what they had been used to, but then again, their situation looked nothing like it once had. The moment she flattened her tongue underside him, a sound like a full, low whimper left his throat, “Mmf,” like the sound of strength, or resolve, leaving him. A jolt seized his whole body. “Fuck,” he whispered like a prayer so quietly, so breathlessly it was not a guarantee she could even have heard it. His toes curled. She was slow, firm, massaging every thick vein with the ripple of her perfect tongue. She moved in a way to suggest this was a luxury to her, not just him. Like she adored every inch of his neediness. He tried to speak, but nothing came. How uncharacteristic. She lapped the pre-cum from his swollen head and he tensed all over at the sight, cock twitching in her fist. She cooed to him, teased him further, filling his head with erotic images. “Yes, baby. All,” he forced out, gazing down at her with stars in his eyes. “All over your pretty face. So,” he shuddered all over, in her hand, “fucking hard.”

[jonahlovescoffee]

Night Changes | J.M.

a/n this fanfic is inspired by one direction’s hit song with the same title. u can also listen to jonah’s cover of the same song here.This is the first complete fanfic I’ve ever written in my entire pathetic life and it has been rotting away in my files app for a while now lol u can see how insecure i was (and am) to put this out here but here it is anyways :’) any constructive criticism is appreciated <3 happy reading!!

summary: the death of his friend’s girlfriend made Jonah realize that nothing in life is permanent, including you.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2136

“We're only getting older, baby; And I've been thinking about it lately; Does it ever drive you crazy; Just how fast the night changes?”

It was yet another ordinary weekend night where Jonah and his band were gathered in the little studio of Daniel’s home, busy composing new music for their upcoming album without a care in the world when Corbyn’s phone rang all of a sudden.

Corbyn’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the caller ID on the screen before sliding the answer button to the right and excusing himself from the small room to take the call. No one thought much about it and proceeded with their songwriting process. However, when half an hour passed with Corbyn’s absence, that was when Jonah’s gut feeling told him that something wasn’t right. He brushed that thought off as quick as it entered his mind, trying his best to ignore the fact that he caught a glimpse of the caller ID and it was his girlfriend’s mother calling him, which was undeniably weird. As his roommate and best friend, Jonah could confirm that she had never called Corbyn unless there was an emergency. Heck, the last time she called him was when her car broke down somewhere in downtown LA and Corbyn was the only one she knew who lived close enough to pick her up.

His suspicion was soon proven right when Corbyn barged into the room seconds later with tears running down his cheeks nonstop like a river. Daniel, who was seated the closest to the door jumped up in shock just as Corbyn fell into his arms and started sobbing. The other boys made their ways to them as Daniel patted Corbyn’s back in attempt to calm him down.

“What’s wrong?” Zach asked curiously and Jack elbowed him on the arm. “Ow, what was that for?” Zach exclaimed, earning a glare from the other male that clearly said, “Can’t you wait until he stops crying to pry for answers?”

“She killed herself,” Corbyn managed to say between sobs.

“Who?” Daniel asked softly.

“My girlfriend,” the 4 boys’ breaths hitched in utter shock. None of them were expecting this news in forever. Madeline was the most cheerful and optimistic girl Jonah had ever met. She brought sunlight and joy into every room she entered. Were those traits of hers merely a mask to hide all the despair and anxiety underneath? It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“My sweetheart killed herself,” Corbyn repeated, mostly to himself with a hint of disbelief in his tone. It was evident that he was still having a hard time letting the fact sink in. “We just went out for dinner last night and now she’s gone. Forever. She didn’t even say goodbye. What should I do? How can I live without her?”

“She should’ve said something. I could’ve done so much to help her instead of letting her die just like that. I saw the scars on her hand last night but I assumed it was nothing serious. It’s my fault. I could’ve stepped in and save her but I didn’t. Why? Why?!” Corbyn screamed and tugged at his hair frustratedly.

Silence ensued, the only sound being Corbyn’s uncontrollable sobs. No one said anything because they knew that no words were powerful enough to comfort him for the time being. The most they could do was be there for him.

#

Jonah pulled up in your driveway in the middle of the night. He left his house right away after ensuring that Corbyn was sound asleep in his room in fear of his best friend trying anything stupid under the influence of tremendous grief. He knew that you were probably asleep at this hour and he should’ve waited until the morning to pay you a visit but he couldn’t wait any longer. Madeline’s death had made him realise that nothing in life lasts forever and he wanted—no, needed—to be by your side tonight to make up for the past few days of neglecting you because of work.

After some debating in his head whether to wake you up from your deep slumber like an ignorant boyfriend or just turn around and go home, he turned off the engine and rushed out of his car and onto your doorstep before he could change his mind. He used the same key you gave him months ago to unlock the front door and was then greeted by a silent pitch black, empty living room. He locked the door with a soft click behind him before tiptoeing up the stairs and entering your room. He made sure to keep his movements as silent as possible as he knew better than anyone that you were a terribly light sleeper and could be awoken easily by the softest sounds. He took off his shoes and joined you on the king-sized bed, wrapping his arms around your sleeping figure gently to pull you closer to him. He contentedly nuzzled your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo that smelled like cherry blossoms and spring air. It was only then he felt truly at ease, with you perfectly safe and sound in his arms.

As he half expected, you stirred from your sleep, wiggling your body slightly before turning towards him, your arms habitually made their way around his neck even in your half-awake state. You couldnt help but smile when you felt him tightening his arms around you like he was holding onto you for dear life. “Hey, love,” you mumbled groggily, staring up at him with droopy eyelids in your pyjamas that had bunny patterns all over them that you were more than embarrassed to be seen in by anyone but you could care less since Jonah had been your boyfriend long enough to know about your preference for childish pyjamas over mature flimsy nightgowns. “What brings you here?”

“Just wanna see you,” he replied with a smile. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took a moment to drink in your beauty—the crinkle by your eyes when you smile, you supple lips and the freckles on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moonlight that shone through the windows—all ordinary features of yours that you had never been particularly fond of but were all made perfect in his eyes. He was lucky to have the chance of calling you his, but Madeline’s unexpected death that night made him wonder how long this could last? Without realising, he let his mind drift further into the sea of uncertainties of the future, getting more anxious by the second, especially when he was met with the thought of ever losing you one day.

“Jo, are you okay?” You asked worriedly when you noticed his tense expression. He offered you a meek smile in return. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied, but his furrowed brows claimed otherwise.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that face, dear. What’s wrong?” You watched him stay silent for a while as if he was trying to come up with a suitable answer to your question.

”I just...can I stay over tonight with you?” He asked and you let out a hum in agreement, your hands rubbing soothing patterns down his back. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t managed to get rid of the old habit of asking for your permission to spend the night at your place although he knew that you would agree without hesitation every single time he did so. You wanted nothing more than to find out what was going on in his head at that moment but he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, so you pushed your questions aside for later.

Both of you stayed like that for who knew how long, unmoving, limbs tangled with each other’s as the cool night breeze wafted into the room through the opened windows. “Madeline died,” he said out of the blue, breaking the silence. Shock was an understatement to what you felt. You couldn’t believe your ears. You weren’t exactly best friends with Madeline but still close enough to hang out together occasionally when both of you were free from your hectic schedules, mainly because Jonah and her used to have a thing for each other back in high school before she got with Corbyn so there had always been a tinge of awkwardness between you two. Yet this news hit you hard all the same.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it. “When?”

“Few hours ago,” Jonah answered, his hand stroking your hair with the utmost gentleness, which prompted your tears to resume falling. He let you cry it all out without a single complaint about your tears staining his shirt. “She took her own life.”

“Why?” You sniffled and he shook his head. “No one knows; I guess even the most optimistic person on earth has her invisible demons too,” he said with a sigh.

“Is that the reason why you came here tonight?” You wiped your tears away with the long sleeves of your shirt as you took several deep breaths to recompose yourself, bracing yourself for his answer. Old feelings die hard, that was what you always hear people said, especially your first love. Part of you were scared that Jonah still harboured feelings for her even after all this years and you were nothing but an emotional support rebound tonight.

“Yes and no. I came here after hearing about the news, yes, but I’m not here to mourn about her, for now,” he added the last two words hastily in case you get the wrong idea and thought that he was being rude. You were ashamed for feeling extremely relieved that his answer wasn’t what you expected. “I came here to make up for the past few days of absence and make sure that you’re alright. Have you ever, you know, done that?”

It took you few seconds to get what he meant. “Of course not, Jo. I promise you, I never tried self-harm before, and I never will,” you replied truthfully.

“Thank god,” he sighed with relief and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, “I don’t know what I’d do if you said yes.”

“You know that you’ll be the first one I talk to if I have anything bothering me, right?” You took his hand in yours while staring at him expectantly for an answer but none came. “Jonah, please don’t tell me that you seriously think that I’m someone who resorts to harming myself when the going gets tough?”

“I...I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly which earned a sigh from you, a small smile tugging at your lips. You still couldn’t believe how this man in front of you—a confident rising boyband star—could get so worked up over a plain girl like you. He swallowed thickly before continuing, “Today made me question everything I know like how long this relationship can last—how long we’ll get to stay us until the world decides to tear us apart. We always said we’ll be together until the end of times but so did Corbyn and Madeline and look at them now. Madeline just....left without a word to anyone. I know it’s stupid but I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and now I’m being such a sap and you probably are disgusted —”

“Jonah, stop. You’re over-thinking everything. I’m not disgusted at you, not even one bit,” you raised a hand to his cheek and traced a thumb over it tenderly, knowing that this simple gesture never failed to soothe his raging emotions. “It’s normal to feel this way, love. But whenever you do, please remember this: there’s nothing to be afraid of because I love you so much, Jonah Marais Roth Frantzich, that I can never ever think of hurting myself because I know that that’ll hurt you; I love you so much that I started crying a little less, smiling a little more because I know that no matter how hard my day is, I’ll always have you to come home to.”

You watched as a tear escaped from him. “I don’t know what the future holds but I can promise you this,” you locked your eyes with his, your gaze filled with the utmost love and adoration in contrast with his worried one. “No matter how fast the night changes, it’ll never change me and you.”

“You promise?” His lips curled upwards into a small smile as he leaned in, leaving only an inch between your lips, your breaths mingling with each other’s. As always, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the close proximity as you mirrored his expression with a sweet smile of your own.

“Forever and always,” you breathed and he closed the distance between your lips, sealing the promise.

[marvel-medigeek-fics]

147 days

ao3 link

147 days. That’s how many days it has been since Buck transferred to station 219. He has new friends now. A new captain, who isn’t Chimney. He has gotten used to his new place, works in harmony with his new crew. But he still misses the 118. He doesn’t regret transferring, because he saves people again, but he misses his old station nonetheless.

147 days. That’s how many days it has been with the new recruit. When Buck was a fresh hire, Hen had compared Buck to a golden retriever. The recruit that replaced him was a cat. Moody, moody and moody. Some days the guy was extremely chill and rolled with the punches. Others, he was downright mean. They couldn’t fire him, he was too good. Too good at avoiding trouble, that is. He knew just when to bow out and lay low, and for such, he never got written up for insubordination.

147 days. That was how long it had been since the badass under pressure brothers had worked together. Now Eddie was like a lone wolf. Since losing the golden, he was a little more tough. Where Buck had softened him a little, he had turned into steel after Buck transferred.

147 days. That was how long it had been since Hen had had someone to tease. Sure she could tease Chim or Eddie or even Bobby, but there was something about the banter she had with Buck that made him hard to replace.

147 days. That was how long it had been since Chim had seen Buck apart from his sister. Buck didn’t live on his floor anymore, so the only place Chim saw him was when he was with Maddie. Though he was the one to spend the most time with him, Chim still missed his little brother. He was a bother sometimes, but he was still family.

147 days. That was how long it had been since Bobby had seen his pseudo son. He missed the blond, his quickness, his kindness, his hopefulness. Buck affected Bobby in every part of his life, and it was hard to be okay with not seeing him around the house anymore.

The 118 missed Buck, even if they didn’t admit it. Buck missed the 118 and he’d be the first to admit it.

—

The 118 had been normal when the last earthquake hit. That seemed so long ago, but really it had only been a year and a half. Buck had a new partner this time: Paige Marcino. The 219 had been called to a school, and Buck’s heart panged to think of Christopher. He missed the kid, but there was no time to dwell on that. Buck had a job to do.Most of the classrooms were emptied already, and Buck and Paige were on the last classroom. They had just gotten to the doorway when the floor began to shake. 

"Get down! Everybody get down!" The kids had seen the firefighters and moved too soon. Much too soon. The ceiling cracked and began to crumble to the floor. Paige and Buck both dove over the unprotected kids and waited for it to stop. It finally did and Buck let out the breath he had been holding. 

"Everybody okay? Anyone hurt?" Buck called out to the silent and terrified children. Paige seconded his words and everyone answered except for one. 

"Jeremy?" The teacher said. One of the children pointed to the broken teacher's desk. Buck and Paige both headed toward it, bracing themselves. The kid had a piece of metal sticking from his thigh. His eyes were closed and he was growing paler by the second. 

"Paige, take the kids out. I have this." Paige nodded and began gathering the kids up. Buck looked in her direction for a second, but then turned his attention to Jeremy. 

"Hey, kid. What's your name?" Buck tried to keep his voice light and steady. 

"Jer..emy.." The kid said, grimacing in pain. "What..happ..en..ed?" 

"There was an earthquake and you got hurt, buddy."

"How..hurt..?" Buck debated whether to tell him the truth or hide it from him. 

"You have a piece of metal in your thigh." By the time the kid could even process it, Buck had the tourniquet fastened securely and was checking him for other injuries. None. Good. "I'm going to get you out of here, kid. I don't want you to talk very much, but try to stay awake. Okay?" 

The kid nodded in reply, and Buck began to carry him out. He was mindful of the piece of metal and tried to keep it still. It wasn't easy, especially with the twinges of pain in his leg. Why did it have to be today? But he made it out, and the kid was good. He was breathing better, the tourniquet doing well at stemming the blood loss. The kid made it, but Buck wasn't sure about himself, that he'd make it through the day.

---

The 118's first call was to a mall. This was tricky for a number of reasons. Number one, it was Saturday. Number two, it was 2:47 when the first quake hit. Number three, the newest recruit had already refused to go in. They were down a member and up against a delicate building filled with people. One step at a time, Hen kept saying to herself. The first step would be going in. Second step, dealing with the reality. People were dead. Two main support beams had crashed through the middle of the building, pulling down most of the room and crushing the middle of the mall. Bobby had split up the paramedics, and instructed the pairs to split up. Cover more ground, hopefully save more people. 

Hen was with Bobby and they went right, climbing over the shredded metal and splintered fabric. On their right was the pet store, complete with cats meowing and dogs thrashing at their kennels. Bobby radioed for a few more hands to transport the animals and Hen headed to the clerk. 

“I’m Hen, what’s your name?” Hen said, surveying her patient for any injuries.

“I’m Naomi and I’m okay, but my boss, Felix? How is he? He’s in the back.” 

Hen craned her neck around the counter and saw the man, a metal cage punctured into his stomach. She ran to him and began her training. Airway, breathing, circulation. He was breathing well. Good, good. She looked around for something to take apart this cage, and her eyes settled on the wire cutters across the room. Perfect. She ran, scooped them up and began cutting off the cage. Felix’s eyes sputtered open and the first words out of his mouth were about his pets. 

“People are carrying them out right now, sir. Try not to move, you have a cage impaling you right now.” Hen pressed her gauze to the puncture wounds, trying to keep the door part from moving and esasperating the direness of being impaled in three places.

By the time the owner was on a backboard, Bobby had already moved all of the animals out of the building. “At least you’re not allergic to cats,” Hen said, looking over the store one last time before moving on to the next one.

--

The 219 was putting out little fires for their three calls, until they were called to the mall. It wasn’t that Buck didn’t want to help people there, it was that this made him miss his old station. As terrifying as the elevator thing was, he missed it. Paige was great, but she wasn’t Eddie. She wasn’t Hen, or Chim, or Bobby. But that ship had sailed, and Buck joined a new one. But he missed the old one sometimes. 

He missed the 118 even more when he saw their numbers emblazened on their ladder truck. Not the one that crushed his leg of course, but the numbers were the same and the memories came rushing back. 

There was no time for that. Buck had work to do. The 219 went around to the other side. Meet in the middle. The first store on the that side is a bookstore. And it’s a mess. Books are strewn everywhere, along with the shelves and everything else.

“LAFD, anyone here?” Paige called to the silence.

“Back here!” A cluster of voices called back. Buck sneezed his way to the people clustered in the back room of the store. Both him and Paige realized what was so wrong bout this at the same time. 

There happened to be a giant beam only held up by a steel bookcase and sheer luck quivering over them. Buck and Paige both knew the odds of coming back from a beam like that. They were fair, not terrible, normally. Unless of course there was a possibility of another aftershock, two aircondititioners stacked over the beam each sticking out at dangerous angles, and only one way out. 

“We’re going to need back up. North east side. Up to 20 people stuck in a back room, unstable conditions.” 

Paige had a way of jumping into things even quicker than Buck did. But she hesitated today, carefully locating the open entrances. Besides the regular door, there happened to be two partial openings that were created when a portion of the room caved in. There was even less of a chance of getting someone out of those, especially with the rest of the room still covered them and the possibility of another aftershock. The last aftershock has still been a 3.2 and had brought down even more of the room. A few more, and there would be no more saving. 

The 20 or so people stuck back there seemed to be a group of college aged nerds, who all seemed pretty nonchalant. Better than belligerent, as Buck liked to say. Paige was doing her best to find the most stable way to get them free, while Buck explained the situation to the backup that had arrived. 

A concensus was reached to get people out of all three excapes at the same time, as quickly as possible. Each had their challenges of course, and a lot of luck would be needed. 

Buck and 2 others took the beam route. The gap was barely wide enough for them, but they made it. If Buck’s nerves hadn’t already been fried, they would have been. 

The center team managed to get three out before the building started shaking. The backup team of 4 from the 442 left behind half of their people, and the other two took the rescued people to the outside of the mall. Paige, Buck, and the two others (Kylie and Zach) stayed behind. Buck and Kylie were stuck on one side, while Paige and Zach prayed and stayed out of the path of debris. Buck and Kylie had no such luzury. Each of them protected the 6 people left. 13 had gotten out of the 19 that were originally there. 

The rumbling finally stopped, and Buck could breathe again. “Everyone okay?” Buck and Kylie almost frantically asked everyone of their future rescues. Everyone said they were fine. Good. Good. Good. 

There was a wet stain spreading across Buck’s shoulder, but he didn’t think about it. He couldn’t. Until all of the innocent people were safe. Luckily, the aftershock had moved one of the side paths to be more accessible and everyone got out in one piece. 

The store looked like a disaster area, but neither Buck or Paige gave a shit. They, along with the 442, had gotten those people out. 

“Buck? You’re bleeding.” Zach got Buck’s attention over the ringing in his ears. “There’s a piece of fan blade in your shoulder.” The words made his adrenaline plummet and the world went dark. 

--

Almost all of the 118 was still inside the mall when Buck got dragged outside by Paige, Kylie and Zach. It was a newsworthy story, obviously, because channel 12 seemed more concerned about this unconsciousness man, that the damage of the mall, which seemed to be crumbling by the minute. 

The 118 thought about Buck throughout the day. Eddie missed his partner, and the easy mind reading thing they did. His new partner, Linc, from B shift, almost clicked with the mind reading wavelength. But the last time Linc, has tossed the axe Eddie needed, it landed four feet from him and threw off the whole balance. So, yes, Eddie missed Buck. But only for his axe throwing skills. 

Bobby missed the way Buck would selflessly throw himself into danger, damning the consequences. His replacement hadn’t even come in to the mall, instead getting an assignment from incident command to do triage. Yes, Bobby was pissed, but mostly at himself for letting Buck get away.

Hen missed Buck, and the way his presense made everything less shitty and depressing. Maybe it was the hair. 

Chimney had been tagged out by Hen, who claimed she needed to be inside someone, absorbing adrenaline from the air in order to calm her nerves. Because he was a good friend, Chim had obliged her request. He was very much surpised to see Buck with a fan blade stuck in shoulder being loaded into his ambulance. He missed Buck too, but didn’t want, need or expect to seem him this way. 

--

After dropping Buck off at the hospital, and making it back to the mall, where things were settling down a little, Chimney shot off three quick texts. One to Maddie, telling her her brother was in the hospital. One to the fire A shift group chat telling them Buck was in the hospital. And one to Buck, whenever he would happen to get his phone, apologizing for the icey feelings between them.  Buck probably wouldn't see it, because that fan blade would definitely require surgery. Buck, of course, would claim it to be just a scratch. Would 219 react the same way 118 would? Doubtful.

Bobby would look vaguely amused and shift his gaze periodically to make sure Buck wasn't overdoing it. Eddie would probably say shoulder injuries are a bitch, and he would be right. Hen would have some smart quip to fire back with and Chim? Before Buck left, Chim would've joined in with Hen in teasing the newbie as everyone still thought of him, even though Eddie had been there less time. 

But now, Chimney was keener to notice the nuances of Buck nursing his shoulder or looking away in embarrassment. Things had changed since Buck transferred, sued the station, and Bobby himself. Somethings need space in order to be mended.147 seemed like a good number of days of space. At least for Chimney. Say what you will, but Chimney was a little impatient. 

Once all of 118 was back at the station, Chimney quickly rattled off the situation with Buck. Each member had a varying look of concern for their estranged member. Bobby looked like his normal stoic self, but he had the telltale look of concern that was reserved for Buck. Hen looked stunned and immediately exclaimed her plan to visit him after the shift ended. Eddie looked wistful, in a way, and instantly agreed to accompany Hen. 

So the four of them, four hours later, appeared in Buck's hospital room.When Buck awoke, he was slightly surprised to see Bobby, Chimney, Hen, and Eddie crowded around the right side of his bed.

 "Hey, guys. What's goin' on?" The four of them looked at each other with confusion, until Maddie appeared in the doorway.

 "You had shoulder surgery because you got an air conditioner fan blade stuck there." She sipped her coffee to keep from answering any other questions. She seemed to part the Red Sea because the four of his former coworkers parted for her swagger, leaving her a space in the middle of them.

"Why are you guys here?" was Buck's next question.

"We heard you got hurt, and wanted to visit you," Eddie answers after no one else speaks. Eddie says it like it's simple when it isn't. Maddie sips her coffee with raised eyebrows, especially at Bobby's obvious apprehension. Buck mirrors Bobby. What's unspoken speaks louder than the questions Buck explicitly asks.

There are a few minutes of silence. Save beeping of machines and whoosh of doors, there is nothing except for heavy impending thoughts weighing on everyone's mind.

"I'm sorry," Bobby says with an air of finality. It comes out smoothly, but quickly. It's been on the tip of his tongue for months, but the courage hasn't been. All at once, everything seems to settle. Buck looks at Bobby like he's a person to him again, and Bobby doesn't look so much like a lost puppy. No one else says anything, and the words sit heavy in the air.

Maddie, Eddie, Chim and Hen all simultaneously decide to leave the two alone to delve into the things that went so wrong 147 days ago.

--

"I'm sorry, ahem, for keeping you away from firefighting after you were cleared. I was scared and I hurt you, because of my, ahem, fear. " Bobby almost seems desperate. Desperate to fix what he broke, and mend what was lost. He stumbles over the words, almost begging for Buck to accept.

 A moment of contemplation occurs between them until Buck reaches out his hand. Bobby stares at Buck's olive branch like he can't believe that this is really all it took. Amazing what a true apology will do.

"I forgave you a while ago. I understood where you were coming from after Maddie explained it, but it took me a while to accept that you didn't do that out of malice. But I forgive you. Don't get me wrong, I'm still dealing with being pissed at you for that, but I forgive you because I understand your reasoning now." Buck says it with clarity. He's grown up in 147 days because Maddie dragged him to therapy, even though she won't go herself.

"I want you back at the 118." Bobby blurts out, after a fairly lengthy conversation about the 118 since Buck's been gone and the 219 in its place.

"Are you sure?" Buck looks incredulous at the prospect of going home. At least, to a former home.

"Yes. We don't work without you! Of course, it's your decision, and I, and everyone else, will respect your decision, whatever it may be. But I want you back.”

"I'll think about it." Buck already knows the answer to Bobby's prospect, but a lot of things go into making a change like that. Logistics, for one, which Buck has never liked too, too much.

--

Maddie is the first one to return, still sipping on her coffee. She stares at Bobby with carefully veiled vengence, and Buck with tender concern. "I'm good, Mads." Buck smiles at his sister, answering her unspoken question. He's speaking a zeugma, answering both physically and mentally. After all, being back with the 118 was all he ever wanted for months. He'd fought fiercely to not need the 118, the people or the station, and he didn't necessarily need the 118 after being with the 219.

 But he wanted it, and he'd damn sure take the chance. There's no one else he'd rather do the job he loved with. Paige was nice, but she was no Eddie. Badass under pressure brothers had no competition in Buck's heart and mind. Hen and Chimney were family from the moment Buck had joined the station. Bobby had been as well, which would take a while to recreate their former relationship. And 118 was home. 219 was just a job. So he'd already accepted Bobby's offer in every sense except literally.

Yes is the first thing Eddie, Hen, and Chim hear as they bring in the food they snuck for Buck.

"What?"

"Buck is returning to the 118," Bobby says, looking to Buck for approval.

"Prodigal son is back!" Hen cheers, handing Buck his favorite candy with a finger to her lips and a grin on her face.

Chimney grins as well and sets an ice-cold bottle on the table. Eddie looks the most stoic with a barely-there smile playing on his lips. He's never been a grinner, of course.

But Maddie only sees her brother at this moment, looking his happiest. The 6 of them are happy, because the family feels complete again, with the cracks finally mending after 147 days.

[wafflewarriors]

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 8—Skin

So… shapeshifters.

As if you didn’t have enough trust issues.

Now, not only did you have to worry about every angel or demon sent to spy on you…

...but now you had to worry about a slimy, homicidal, lying monster that could pretend to be literally anyone.

Great.

You sighed, dragging your fingers along your scalp as you brainstormed. How could you do this and get out in one piece?

Becky calls Sam because she’s worried about her brother Zach, who’s been accused of a murder he didn’t commit. And, well, the only way to stop that would be to tail the shapeshifter before it even gets to the couples.

An impossible task.

To make matters worse, you were going to have to intervene. Right when the shapeshifter comes to torture Emily with her boyfriend’s face. And if you were caught, it would just be another thing to add to the piling concrete evidence that you were a monster in the Winchester’s eyes.

You rubbed at your temple. Your anxiety really was through the roof lately. Always on edge and lightheaded.Though, there’s only so many nutrients one can get from a peanut butter sandwich.

You underlined their names on your notepad, Zach and Emily, tracing over the line. Then you gained the will to start up your car and drive off to stalk the poor couple.

///

Time ticked by slowly as you sat and waited outside the victim's home.

To be completely honest, you weren’t sure what to expect. All the monsters you’ve hunted so far had a valid reason to be what they were. Ghosts? They were hardwired to act in violent patterns. Wendigos? They were just feral animals. Demons? They were twisted, broken souls who lash out and wreak havoc. But only after decades upon centuries of endless torture.

But a shapeshifter? A shapeshifter has its own conscience. Even if it was horribly skewed from a life of resentment and shame.

You shook your head. Sentiment. The sentiment always gets to you. This isn’t a human. This is a monster. Do the job.

After staring blankly at the house for what felt like hours, a shadow moved. Your heart picked up, and you tried to look for any other movement. Nothing. 

You sighed. How did your life even come to this? You popped open your car door, slinking out of your seat as quietly as you could. It would be much easier if the shapeshifter didn't know you were coming.

You tread lightly up to the house, up their driveway, and peeked in windows. Just as you were about to admit it was your paranoia talking, something in the house shuddered.

Welp. Guess you hadn’t imagined it.

The front door was open. You let yourself in.

The house was dangerously quiet. The lights were deceivingly warm. Then you heard whimpering. Silver knife in hand, you tiptoed in their hallway, watching the source's door like a hawk. 

This is the dumbest thing you've ever done.

Throwing out your invasive thoughts, you prepared to cave the door in and stab the monster in the heart. If it had been your choice, you'd shoot it, but you didn’t have any silver bullets on hand.

You kicked the door in, sweeping your weapon through the room, but there was only the victim. Her breathing was labored, and you weren't dumb enough to try and help her before you ganked the shapeshifter.

You tried to signal that you were on her side, but she just sobbed into her gag.

"No, 'honey, I'm home'?" a male voice called.

You froze. Shapeshifter.

The shadow in the hallway crept up until his figure was visible, and his eyes were glowing. "Oh… but you're not him. You're a hunter, aren't you?" he said. "Here to slay me, little girl?"

"I'm here to make sure you don't hurt any more families."

"I'm sure you are." He smiled. "Are you going to come and stab me, then?"

"Considering it."

"You're afraid," he sneered. "You're a poor excuse for a hunter. You're inexperienced." He grinned and started walking forward. "Stab me, little hunter. Do your worst."

You charged, swinging at him with your knife, but he dodged the move. He kneed you in the stomach, stealing your breath. When you fell on all fours, he stepped down on your hand with the knife. "That was a stupid move."

The last thing you saw was the toe of his shoe.

///

You woke up, sick to your stomach.

Waking up feeling gross wasn't that abnormal, but it wasn’t usually this intense. You could tolerate a little hunger or thirst, or some smarting, but this was something else entirely.

Some kind of tarp was draped over you, but you didn’t have the energy to throw it off.

Your shoulders ached, arms pulled taut above you with no give.

You just tried to breathe through the pain.

A sawing noise came from your left. Through the ringing in your ears, someone was talking. Two someones. It clicked: you were in the sewers, and that sawing noise was Dean breaking from his ropes. Distantly, you wondered for how long. Guess that didn't matter now, though.

"...didn't just look like you. He was you," Sam said. "Or he was becoming you."

You were completely still. If they found you, you were dead… but if they left you, they'd kill the shapeshifter and you'd be left to rot. Both options sucked.

"What'd'ya mean?"

"I don't know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories."

You had to get out. But there was nothing to saw your hands against like Dean had. Just smooth metal and rope burns on your wrists.

"You mean like the Vulcan Mind Meld?"

"Yeah, something like that." Sam paused. "Maybe that's why he didn't just kill us."

Dean must have stumbled out of his ropes, because now his voice was traveling. "Maybe he needs to keep us live… for the psychic connection."

"Hands." Sam was being untied. "Yeah. Come on, we gotta go. He's probably at Rebecca's already."

"Wait," Dean said with a long pause. "The shapeshifter turned into that girl, right? So wouldn't that mean she's still down here?"

Your stomach dropped.

"I guess. Or he just removed her when he took us. For all we know she could be in a ditch," Sam said. "And honestly? Good riddance."

You weren’t sure if you were rooting for them to leave you or stay. Both options were bad.

"Or…" Dean said slowly. "She's just being quiet because she's afraid of us finding her."

Yeah, that about summed it up.

You listened to footsteps, deadly still and holding your breath. The footsteps stilled in front of you and you steeled yourself for the reveal.

The tarp was tossed away, and you stared fearfully into the bright green eyes of Dean freaking Winchester. Your mind was churning, working in fight or flight mode, but you could do neither. You were screwed.

The only thing that could save you now was the angels, and they didn't seem to be concerned enough to step in anytime soon.

"Well, hi," Dean said with a smile. It was smug and absolutely intended to be intimidating.

You stared, and that sick feeling in your stomach only deepened. Something told you that it probably wasn't just the anxiety making you sick, but you pushed it away. That could wait. Right now, you had other things to worry about.

Like, say, the Winchesters. 

And torture.

Dean raised an eyebrow to his brother, who walked around to get a look at you. "You know, if we had left you, the shapeshifter would have come back. Or worse—wouldn't have come back."

"I'm aware," you said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with them. The look in their eyes was overwhelming.

They smiled at each other, clearly amused at your situation.

You gained the courage to snap, "You going to kill me or what?" There was no trying to get it through their thick skulls that you weren’t the enemy here. Plus, maybe if the angels really believed you were in danger, they'd rescue you.

Dean shrugged. "That's up to you. I kind of want to hear your end of the story."

You frowned. "Really?" Maybe there's hope here. Maybe you really can form an alliance—

"Nah, I'm just kidding. I don't want to hear what you have to say." Dean admitted.

You scowled. "I didn't kill Jessica." They were giving you time to explain yourself, so of course you were going to use it.

"You were the only one there, and Sam saw you."

"I was there to save her. Figures you'd think I can just put someone on the ceiling and set them on fire."

"I wouldn't be too sure. Looks like you made a handy dandy flame thrower out there. Who's to say you aren't the thing our Dad has been hunting?"

"I wasn't even alive when your mother died. I'm telling you: I. Am. Human." You thrust your hand out, showing them the burns. "See? Scar tissue. I'm a human being—"

"How do you know that? How did you know about our mother?" Dean demanded. Of course he'd focus on that comment. It was like talking to a brick wall.

"It's not like it's a secret. It was written all over your father's journal," you lied.

Sam squinted. "Who are you?"

You let your head fall back onto the pole. Just kill me already. "Someone who just wants to go home."

"Boohoo for you," Dean spat.

"At least you're able to look for your family."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

You yanked at your ropes, and the Winchester's tensed. But you were still held tight. "We don't have time for this. Either you kill me right now, or you take me with you. Does the name Rebecca ring any bells?"

They scowled, but it got them moving. Dean nodded to Sam. "We'll come back for her."

You twisted to look at them as they walked away. "What?! No! Wait! But I can help! Just untie me and I can help!"

"Not a chance," Dean said. "See, I don't trust stalkers." And he walked away.

"Please," you said. "Please... I... please I don't… I don't feel right." Your voice echoed. Pipes dripped in reply.

They had already left you.

Your mind ran. Your breaths were shallow, biting back the nausea that threatened to overtake you. You blinked, slow and long, feeling off. You had to get out. Whatever acid trip you were on, you needed out of the ropes and out of the sewer.

If you had a little slack… you might be able to gnaw at the rope and loosen it. But that would mean dislocating your shoulder.

You braced yourself, getting ready to pull your arm out of your socket, but you chickened out. The anticipation was making your heartbeat like a drum against your chest. You can’t do that. You can't, your anxiety told you. It'll hurt. You don't know what you're doing. You've never done this. It's going to hurt.

But your logical side argued back. All it takes is one motion. One swift second and you could break yourself free, with the downside of shoulder problems. You don't want to be down here, tied up and defenseless. A dislocated shoulder won't hurt you—but the Winchesters and a shapeshifter definitely will. Do it.

You were pretty sure you were going to have a panic attack if you kept thinking about this. You took a breath, and swiftly yanked.

The pain was blinding. Your vision went white and you screamed. You panted heavily, riding through the wave of agony before it became a constant excruciating burn.

You reached your mouth for the rope on your good arm—since you could reach it now—and tugged at it with your teeth. It was old rope, and it tasted like dust. You pulled just enough for the loop around your hand to loosen, and it was free. You then worked the rope away from your neck and abdomen and, lastly, untied the rope around your dislocated arm.

You stood up too fast and saw a sea of grey. The jostling of your arm had you stumbling onto your knees and vomiting what little bile was in your stomach. Gross.

The shapeshifter would be back soon with… Emily, was it? Or was it Becky? Rebecca. You were losing your focus.

You also didn't know how to reset a dislocated shoulder. Just looking at it was making you queasy. The bone was pointed upward, your shoulder flattened. It was bruising and swelling, and god it hurt. It looked so unnatural you thought you might puke again.

You didn't though. You steadied yourself, knowing what was ahead of you: you were going to have to relocate it yourself.

You had no choice. Nobody to run to. Everyone that you knew was your enemy.

You braced your back against a metal pole, grabbing your arm with your good one. You pulled it straight forward, not yanking, but attempting to guide it back in. You cried as it popped back into place. 

You wiped away a few stray tears with your good hand.

You then worked on a temporary sling with the rope that had been used to tie you up. It turned out kind of sucky and awkward, as you only had one hand available, but it was enough to keep the arm steady against your chest. 

Your arm still freaking hurt.

You peered around, squinting at the shiny pile in the corner of the room. It had a tarp over it, but it must have shifted and revealed it's contents. You walked over, marveling at the mass of silver weapons just lying around.

"You keep it here? Just lying around? For anyone to take?" You grabbed a gun loaded with silver bullets (which was probably the Winchester’s, now that you thought about it), and your silver knife as a token of your survival.

Now to get the hell out of here, you thought.

"That could be my catchphrase," you muttered. Your chest was still heaving, in pain and in adrenaline. What a nightmare.

You ran, biting your tongue as the motion shook your arm. But there was no time to care, and definitely no time to pity yourself.

Somewhere behind you, there were echoing footsteps.

"Cas," you said softly. Shakily. "Cas, if you're out there, please come and get me. I know we're not on the best terms… but my arm, I got a bum arm and I'm in trouble—please—"

There was no reply.

You huffed. Typical. You took one more turn through the sewers, and you saw light.

The footsteps grew louder and as did your heart. You reached for the grating, working at the screws to try and pry the thing open. It took effort though. It hurt your fingers to strain like this, twisting each screw until they clattered noisily onto the tile. You grimaced each time, taking little glances to see if the footsteps matched a shadow.

As you worked on the last screw, you watched you—not actually you, shapeshifter-you—march your way. It was like looking into a fun house mirror. Except not so fun.

You pushed the grating away, shoving your frame through the entry. You rolled, struggling to get on your feet so you could run off.

A hand grabbed for your feet but you managed to stumble back, knife raised in front of you with your bad arm.

The shapeshifter crawled into the light like it was normal to walk on all fours. He mimicked your terrified look, then smirked at you. "Are we back here again? You know you'll never win." You watched as he drew closer, tensing.

When he was just five feet in front of you, you said, "No." And he paused. You whipped out the gun with your good arm, shooting him right in the chest. He floundered at first, but then crumbled into a motionless heap.

"I don't make the same mistakes twice."

The shapeshifter was dead. You stared at your face—its face—as you swayed and the world dipped with it, your mind snuffed out like a candle.

You were caught by two sturdy arms.

///

Tags: @rosaren2498 , @pillowjj , @busy-bee-angel-misska , @elle-r , @dagnylokisdottir , @omg-we-really-doo , @millieccino , @rycbar-221b

[aleburton]

Alex had never experienced him while fully sober, unless you counted the night of his unexpected surprise party – something she preferred to dismiss. Their interactions were marked by restraint and caution, an unfamiliar dynamic for them both. Despite the intense encounters within the confines of the downstairs powder room and his shower, it never progressed beyond that. It was a tease. While she welcomed the chance to release the lingering tension between them, it fell sort of satisfaction. Since then, she hadn’t been with anyone else. In fact, there had been no one else but Zach since they’d met. Did this fact make her pathetic? She refrained from probing into Zach’s endeavors. The thought of it was difficult to stomach, even if he was well within his right to do so. As the years passed, she found herself unable to shed her sense of entitlement. In her eyes, he would always belong to her, and the notion of sharing remained a challenge.

If he had explored other options, she wanted to remind him of her superiority. Nothing could rival their connection, not even close. Her tongue rolled softly over top of his, dragging along his teeth as she reacquainted herself with the inside of his mouth. It had been even longer since they shared a kiss this passionate. It was too risky, poised to unleash a torrent that would force them to confront the truth about their feelings. Were they still in love? Although Alex had mastered the art of concealing her emotions about him, she could not deceive herself. Deep down, she knew the truth. This kiss, as feared, cemented it. Her heart thundered audibly, and she worried he might have heard its irregular rhythm in the stillness of the room. Zach’s fingers coiled around her wrist, the unexpected touch sending a jolt through her. She braced herself for him to withdraw, to retreat back to his own hotel suite, but he didn’t. Instead, he persisted in the kiss, his other hand beckoning her nearer.

He let go of her, and confusion caused her brows to furrow. His inner turmoil was at play. Zach interrupted their kiss, leaving her almost breathless. He sought an answer from her, curiously evident in his expression. Alex captured her lower lip between rows of perfectly white teeth, allowing her gaze to shift to the sizeable protrusion between his thighs. It was likely twitching beneath those layers, aching for her touch, her mouth, her pussy. Her hand coasted up his thigh, wreathing around the diamond hard silhouette. Her body shuddered softly, reminded of just how impressive he was in size. It was unclear how she had managed to successfully fit every inch inside of her. She groused, “We’re not supposed to,” she began, palming the sensitive flesh, “but, I think I would do anything to feel you inside of me again.” Her legs folded beneath her, thighs parted as she began to involuntarily rock her hips, grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves against the sheets.

Zach was feverish, heat rising in him, flourishing in the sharp hilts of his cheeks a deep red. He couldn't flee now even if he tried; that teetering moment between action and inaction, frozen in tense anticipation. Anything but what she did would've been easier. He'd dreamed up possibilities in those acute moments before she tilted onto her hands and knees; she might spread her legs, slip her french tips between wet silk, smile and moan as he watched. Slide her strap down to unveil full flesh, marbling at the peak, twist herself between her fingertips until she cried out. But she just had to get close, had to feel him between her back teeth and bite down to see if he was still soft in the same places. And he was. Her dress draped carelessly at this angle, a channel for his eyes to wander down her chest. He fidgeted, swallowing a frustrated groan. "Alex," he warned again, his breaths barely-there, whole body going taut as she prowled toward him; a predator on a mission. His voice was so low as to be barely audible.

But she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were on his lips. They parted slightly. A king with a blade to his neck. Some would say it took everything to bring him to his knees - only Alex knew it didn't take very much at all. Her breath splayed against his face, vanilla-sweet. He couldn't say a thing, couldn't move. She sank a kiss onto him like delivering a divine sermon, gentle and plush. His eyes drew to a heavy close, needle-in-the-vein high sweeping through his blood. Zach made a small, low noise against her mouth, his body rigid, though his lips answered hers like the ocean to the sand. She swept the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip and his jaw slackened on command, despite himself. She dipped into his mouth, making a home for herself, along with her deep sigh. His muscles twitched, begging to be loosened, but he held onto that tension. He didn't trust himself - not for a moment - not to take it too far.

Her hand curled upon his thigh and, just as fast, his own hand shackled her wrist. But he didn't stop kissing her. He couldn't. His other hand came to hook the sharp angle of her jaw, his own widening to deepen their contact. Zach's grip on her tightened, the conflict in him waging a war unto itself. He wanted to direct her hand further, up his thigh, stroke the solid member aching for her behind his clothes. He wanted to move her hand away, back onto the mattress. He wanted, he couldn't, he didn't stop. The decision wasn't safe in his hands. His resolve wavered, and his grip on her wrist loosened, hesitant, before making the decision. He let go. Zach broke their kiss for only a brief moment to flash his eyes at her. And what else?

[lemonlushff-iy]

Read parts 1-3 here

One Last Ride - Part Four

Kagome picked up another smooth, small, flat rock and tossed it, skipping it down the creek behind the Takahashi's house. It only made two jumps this time. She hadn't realized she was as rusty as she clearly was.

Dinner had been a...strained affair. Inuyasha's father, Touga, had been a bit more receptive to her presence. Probably since both he and his eldest son, Sesshomaru, had known that she was around. Seeing her mash a bowl of potatoes in their kitchen probably didn't give them as big a shock as his mother seeing her hold two glasses of water.

Frankly, Sesshomaru had been practically giddy when they came in. Probably because he was excited to see how her presence would torment his brother.

The mashing was actually a perfect activity for her. It gave her a chance to take out some of her aggression about fucking Kikyo. And everything else. But especially Kikyo.

She was a good woman, huh?

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

What the hell made her a good woman? One good enough for Inuyasha? Was it because she was the history teacher at the highschool? Was it because she went to church every Sunday and led the children's service? Was it because she had been trying to suck his dick since they hit puberty?

She smashed the masher down so hard that she almost broke the glass bowl at the thought, causing everyone to shoot her an odd look. She smiled weakly and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, apologizing as they made jokes about she-hulk.

Her mind wouldn't shut up though..and Kagome quickly found herself thinking about Kikyo again. She was finally getting her chance, huh? Kikyo was finally getting her grubby little paws all over her Inuyasha.

Only...he wasn't hers...and she hadn't had a claim over him in years.

She had needed a moment to compose herself after that, and excused herself to use the bathroom. She stood over the sink, her arms braced on either side of the white porcelain as she just...opened her heart.

He had every right to move on.

He had every right to find happiness with someone else.

She just didn't think that it would hurt this much...but...he had been a huge part of her life for ten years. Since they were kids. She had been so stupid to think it wouldn't be this bad.

She felt tears gathering at her lashes, spilling over and down her cheeks as she heard his father tell Inuyasha to let her be. Great. Let's add that to the mix. They knew she was crying. Stupid dog demons and their sense of smell. She couldn't have one moment to gather herself together in privacy?

She quickly splashed some water onto her face and cheeks, trying to get rid of the most recent thing to completely humiliate her. She opened the door and ran smack into Inuyasha's chest, not expecting to see him there at all.

"Inuyasha?" she questioned, unable to look him in the eye, and she gasped when she felt his hand on her cheek. His thumb gently glided over her, feeling the cool residue of the water against her skin. The heat from his hand was soothing...and soul crushing all at the same time.

"You've been crying," he whispered, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"I'm fine," she dismissed, forcing herself to not turn her head into his palm and nuzzle his hand. His skin was so calloused now...but it felt so good. A working man's hands. Nothin like her ex "pet cat" Zach's hands.

"Hm…" he replied, searching her face before coming to a decision. "Kagome...Pops and Sessh are back. I can easily take you to your mom's and come by later with the car. If this is…" he sighed, lowering his hand from her cheek and running it through the fringe of his bangs. "If bein' here is too much or too hard, you don't hafta. It's pretty clear you've been avoiding...this the last seven years. You don't hafta stop now just 'cause fate made your car break down in front of our land."

"I think Ford made my car break down, not fate," she shrugged, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"You slandering a good American made car, Higurashi?"

"Or an anti-semite. Take your pick."

"You and your causes," he tsked. "They still make the best damn truck I've ever been in. Doesn't mean I gotta like the man."

"As I recall you don't like a lot of people."

His eyes filled with sorrow and he stuck his hands into his pockets, shrugging.

"Probably 'cause a lotta people don't like me."

"I did," she whispered softly, and he looked away from her.

"You always were the exception to the rule, Kagome. All of 'em."

"Inuyasha—"

"—Well? What do ya wanna do? Dinner or home, Kagome. No one is gonna twist your arm either way."

"I...I'll stay. I want to stay. If you're ok with it."

"'Course I am."

Now, she was skipping rocks in the stream waiting for Inuyasha to get a gallon of water together so they could go and check on the rental.

"Beena while since anyone skipped rocks out here," Inuyasha called, coming to stand beside her, jug of water in hand.

"No? You don't do this anymore?"

"Not since...not since you left," he replied hesitantly, dropping the water by their feet and picking up a rock, absently palming it as he looked out over the water. "I wonder if I even can still," he mused before wiping his arm back and flicking the rock forward. It bounced once before it sank and he let out a disappointed sound. "Guess not."

"Might have been a bad stone too, you know," she shrugged. "Why don't you try again?"

He gave her a wry smile but picked up another one, repeating the same movements as before and the rock sank.

"Ooff...Takahashi...how was that even worse than before?"

"Another bad fucking rock," he chuckled, but leaned down and grabbed a small handful, giving her one. "You think you can do better?"

"I know I can," she smirked, flicking her rock and getting two bounces out of it. She turned to face him, throwing her arms up into the air and doing a little victory dance.

"Oh yeah? That's how you wanna play this?"

"You better believe it," she crowed, and she watched as he wound his arm back like a pitcher before letting it loose. It bounced three times before sinking, and he shot her a smirk.

"Guess I'm just rusty," he shrugged, and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't get too cocky - you only did that the one time so far."

"Yeah? I bet I can do it again."

"Oh you do, do you?"

"Sure do," he smirked, tossing another rock, and it bounced three times again. "Man...this takes ya back, don't it?" he grinned. "Remember how we used to do this as kids?"

"We have a lot of good memories at this crick. Like the time you thought you could run away from home by walking through this thing to my house? All ten damn miles? Your dad tracked you down...what...twenty minutes after you showed up soaking wet?"

"I didn't want to do my chores," he shrugged.

"As good a reason as any," she conceded and he laughed, watching as she tossed another stone up the creek.

"What about the summer we were obsessed with pirates? And the one we learned about the gold rush?"

"Oh god, we were soaked all summer! Your mom was good humored about it all at least. Didn't mind us borrowing all of her pots and pans to go panning for gold."

"Is that what you remember?" he snorted. "'Cause I remember having my butt whooped and being made to wash alla them."

"No! She did?" she laughed. "Well...I guess I can't blame her. They would have been filthy."

"Filthy would be putting it lightly," he chuckled, tossing another rock. It bounced four times this time, and she applauded him.

"Alright Takahashi. Not bad."

"You bet your ass! That was pretty damn good! There's no way you can beat that."

"You think so?" she smiled, grabbing a few more and tossing one. Two bounces.

"See?"

"Yeah...well...that's because we're not betting on anything right now."

"So it takes a bag for warheads to make you really competitive?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Oh my...Yes! I forgot that's what we used to use! That's what those little sour candies were called! And then we'd separate them into colors, and the winner got first pick...which really meant all of the black ones?"

"You do remember!" he grinned, tossing a rock into the air once before swinging his arm and bouncing it three times.

"Of course I remember. God...what were the rules? Who ever got the most bounces out of twenty was the winner?"

"Sounds right," he nodded as she tossed one in. "Then we stopped playing for candy," he continued solemnly. "We started playing for kisses instead. Then we just...stopped playing."

"Inuyasha—"

"—Hey. Crazy thought. Let's play one more time. Best outta three. Winner...winner gets to ask a question and the loser has to answer it honestly."

"Sounds dangerous…"

"Less dangerous than when we used to play for kisses?"

"Depends on your definition of dangerous," she replied casually, palming the rock as she mulled his proposition over. She was nervous about what he might ask her. There was a cornucopia of sticky, awkward questions he could choose from...but she really wanted a few answers herself. "Fine," she finally decided. "You've got yourself a deal. But...No saving your question. You have to ask it now, deal?"

"Fair enough," he grinned, tossing the first rock, and she cringed when it bounced five times.

"I thought you were rusty?"

"Guess it's like riding a bike," he smirked. "Go on. It's your turn now, Kagome," he prodded and she silently swore.

Two bounces, and two more throws later, and she was the clear loser. She watched him do a small little victory lap around her, jumping up and down before coming to stand back by the gallon of water that sat forgotten by their feet.

"Alright, alright…" she chuckled. "Stop gloating and ask me your question," she prodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

She almost regretted saying it. All of the light drained from his eyes as soon as he was reminded of the question in his mind. He opened his mouth to ask, then snapped it shut, almost as if second guessing himself.

"What's your favorite color?" he finally asked, and she gaped at him, shocked.

"I...you know what my favorite color is, Inuyasha," she replied, her head tilting slightly to the side as her brows knit together.

"It's beena while. It coulda changed."

"It hasn't…It's still green..."

"Well then. Guess I know now. We should get over to that rental," he prodded, bending down to pick up the jug of water and lead her towards the truck in silence.

They both knew that wasn't what he had really wanted to ask...she just...she just wasn't sure if she wanted to pry. She closed the door as he started the ignition and buckled in, the jug of water in the flat bed behind them. Some new country song she couldn't identify immediately started blaring on the radio, and he stuck his arm out the window, tapping the side of the truck to the beat of the music.

Clearly, it wasn't new to him.

"Do you still like country?" she heard him ask after a minute. "Didn't even think to ask if this was fine. I know it's not as popular out in California."

"Would you stop saying California like that?"

"Like what? That's how I say California."

"No it's not," she insisted, shaking her head. "That's how you talk if you're about to vomit from bad cheese."

"Guess the real question should be why I ate bad cheese...and why you know what that sounds like. You eating bad cheese out in California?" he asked, over emphasising his disdain of the state as he spat the word out.

"No...I'm not eating bad cheese in California. It's just a state, same as anywhere else."

He slammed his foot on the break, making them shoot forward from inertia and she heard the jug of water smack into the side of the truck bed.

"California is not the same as anywhere else. Don't you dare say that, Higurashi. How can you say that, with all them city folk buying up our land to pretend they can be a rancher for the summer? They like the fantasy of who we are. Not the reality."

"But they're hiring peop—"

"—Do not try to defend them. You hear me? Don't you dare start with me, Higurashi."

"Ok," she whispered. It wasn't worth arguing over. She forgot how small minded he could be sometimes. How he could be so...wrapped up in this life that he didn't see the more global picture.

"Glad we're clear," he nodded, removing his foot from the break and back to the gas so the truck could slowly start accelerating again.

"So…" she began awkwardly after a moment. "You and Kikyo, huh?"

"Whatta 'bout it?"

"Nothing. Just... didn't seem that into her when we were younger."

"Didn't really see her back then."

"And you do now? When did that happen?"

He let out a deep sigh as her rental came into view, the setting sun washing over the silver and making it glow. Inuyasha put the car into park, turning off the engine and drummed his fingers against the wheel in thought.

"You really wanna have this conversation Kagome?" he finally asked, turning to shoot her an uncertain look.

"I'm curious," she shrugged weakly, failing at looking nonchalant. "Besides. You know all about Zach."

"So the pet cat has a name," he whistled. "Bet he's a pretty boy too. Those cat demons normally are. Lemme guess - green eyes? Blond hair? Perfectly quaffed wavy locks?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes. And we aren't together anymore anyways - we broke up a few weeks ago."

He blinked hard at her words as they seemed to roll around in his head.

"Now what did he do ta make ya end it with him?"

"Who says I ended it?" she snapped.

"Nothing. Just a gut feeling."

"Well I didn't so...so there!"

His face softened and he actually looked empathetic instead of like he was going to rip her throat out.

"Kagome...I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I'm fine with it. We weren't meant to be, and it wasn't a good relationship. I mean, it was...but...it wasn't, you know?"

He nodded his head, silently gripping and relaxing his fingers around the wheel as he exhaled loudly.

"Still. I know how hard that is."

"Because of us?"

"You aren't the only woman I've ever dated, Kagome," he smiled wryly.

Why did that surprise her? It shouldn't.

"I know. You're with Kikyo now."

"I dated others before her too...and I think 'with' is a bit of a strong word."

"Then how would you describe it?"

"I'd describe it as none of your business."

She sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt, shaking her head as she moved to open the door. It was open only a crack before he reached over her and closed the door again. He cupped her cheek and turned her face to look at him, his face soft.

"Listen," he began with a long exhale, lowering his hand, "Kikyo 'n I are just talking. We've never even kissed. Hell, we've been on maybe two dates, depending on how ya look at it. And as for when I started to see her…" he paused and she watched him bite the inside of his lip before confessing. "Kagome, I never saw anyone other than you since the day you kissed me after I broke my arm. I was like a horse with blinders on. And then when you left...they stayed on for a real long time, until I just...woke up one day and they were finally off.

But, you don't...you don't get to be upset that there's a woman out there who likes me, got it? I offered you everything...and everything wasn't good enough for ya. It's good enough for someone else though, and you don't get to be upset over that, ok?"

She wanted to tell him it had been...She wanted to tell him that everything he had offered her was enough. She just hadn't been ready.

"And you don't get to be upset over who I date either," she replied instead, not wanting to pour salt on the still open wound.

He pursed his lips together and nodded his head in agreement.

"I don't. What's in the past should stay there...and we should both just...move on."

"Glad we agree," she replied tightly, reopening the door and he followed suit, walking around to the bed of the truck and pulling out the water jug. He made quick work of tending to her rental, pouring the water in and she pulled out the keys, hopping in and waiting for his signal to start it up.

"Why dontcha give it a go?" he prompted, and the engine rumbled to life again. He quickly closed the hood, backing away from the front and walking over to the side. "Sounds like ya should be fine. You got real lucky this time. Don't you start doubting Fords," he smiled weakly, and she returned it.

"I won't."

"Listen," he breathed slowly, nervously. "I...I just want you to take care of yourself. Ok?"

"This sounds a lot like goodbye again, Inuyasha," she mused, and he lowered his gaze.

"Aint it?"

Was it? Did she want it to be?

"I guess it is…" she whispered, glancing away from him. "Goodbye, Inuyasha. You take care of yourself too. I hope you're happy. Truely. With Kikyo or any of the others. You deserve to be."

She turned her head away from him and pulled her car out of park, shifting the gear into drive. She was about to step on the gas when she felt two clawed hands gently grab her face, pulling it out of the window.

She gasped and her eyes widened in surprise before closing when she felt his lips tenderly press against hers in a soft, lingering kiss before he pulled away. The feel of his lips against hers...it was just as she remembered it. Only she didn't remember this painful aching in her chest when they had kissed in the past...Or this horrible need to grab ahold of his neck to bury her face into his chest and just cry.

"Just wanted to do that one last time," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear, almost as if he were ashamed of himself. Of still wanting her. Of wanting what they once had. What they could have been.

It felt so final. Like they were finally closing the book, sealing it shut with glue, and tossing it into a fire so it could never be looked at again, let alone read.

She could only nod and whisper goodbye again before pulling away as twilight began to settle around them, heading down the road to her mother's...the feel of his lips on hers haunting her the whole way.

____________________

I’ve given up. This is me waving the white flag. But I don’t think I can keep doing daily posts...And I do want to have SOME stuff to post on White Day! And I hope you heathens are happy! I’ve been told this one didn’t hurt as much as the last....3 😬

Special thanks to @superpixie42 for helping me make sure Inuyasha’s dialect isn’t becoming too southern/Texan!

Wall of tags! Let me know if you want in or out!

(If you get tagged in this post after requesting tags, it’s because that’s how I’m keeping track of them. If you requested a tag and aren’t there, I might not have seen it so please ask again!)

@clearwillow, @keichanz, @dangerouspompadour, @nartista, @kaze-ranna, @superpixie42, @sticky-llama-perfection, @pinkpigeonstudio, @mcornilliac, @itzatakahashi, @zelink-inukag, @juliatheanimelover7, @csim28, @smmahamazing, @the-lucky-ones311, @cyncyn981, @animemomma96, @ayari17, @underwater0phelia, @sailorbabydoll92, @l-taisho29, @clearwillow, @animelove1313 

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Globe, January 4

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Ghislaine Maxwell buying her way out of prison

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Gavin Rossdale playing tennis with his pup Chewy, Brooke Burke holding holiday balls topless, James Franco takes his cellphone into the sea 

Page 3: Leighton Meester surfing in Malibu, Robbie Williams, Lisa Rinna wearing two masks 

Page 4: Angelina Jolie is bracing for major humiliation after being dragged into Johnny Depp’s latest legal showdown with ex-wife Amber Heard -- Angie’s run-ins with Johnny who she starred with in 2010′s The Tourist are coming under intense scrutiny as Depp gears for a second court battle with Amber -- Angie and Johnny were so coy about their white-hot connection at the time even though their romance was an open secret but they got lucky because nobody had the smoking gun to prove it but now it’ll all come out in the open -- at the time Johnny was still dating Vanessa Paradis while Angie was five years into her doomed love-in with Brad Pitt -- there’s talk bisexual Amber was kind of obsessed with Angie so Angie is central to the plotline whether she likes it or not

Page 5: The Bachelor host Chris Harrison is worried he’ll follow Dancing with the Stars host Tom Bergeron out the door -- both these shows have been on TV forever and the world has changed around them and to keep up with Black Lives Matter and the #MeToo movement changes are being discussed and that’s left Chris fearing he’ll be the next Tom Bergeron and replaced by a woman of color 

Page 6: Aging divas Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton are caught in a bitter country catfight and long-dead Patsy Cline is the excuse -- although there’s been little love lost between the Nashville icons for nearly 50 years their simmering feud exploded weeks ago when Dolly apparently took some veiled public shots at Loretta’s BFF Patsy who was horribly disfigured in a car wreck two years before dying in a 1963 plane crash -- in an interview Dolly recalled standing in the wings of Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry at age 13 and watching Patsy perform and she remembered thinking about how awful it was that she got her pretty face scarred up like that -- Loretta was fit to be tied over the comments Dolly made about her old pal and thinks Dolly should stop running her mouth about Nashville legends like Patsy and Johnny Cash -- Dolly’s heard about Loretta’s complaints through the grapevine and brushes them off as quarantine boredom mixed with old age 

Page 8: Blake Shelton’s going bonkers after fiancee Gwen Stefani told him she wants to skip the mega-million star-studded wedding shindig he’s been planning and elope -- Blake is all bent out of shape over Gwen’s latest switcheroo which calls for them to get hitched on the sly at a Mexican resort and she’s got him so mixed up he can’t think straight because for the longest time she wanted the Hollywood-style wedding with all the bells and whistles and was very particular about details but now she’s telling him to ditch those plans which have already cost them a small fortune and book a trip somewhere exotic so they can just just get it over with -- Gwen wants to elope so they can hitched at the Riviera Maya resort in Cancun where they could swap vows on the beach witnessed by her three sons and Blake has no choice but to give in to Gwen and he’s saying he’s fine with it as long as she’s sure this time 

Page 9: Hollywood horndog John Mayer is back sniffing around old flame Jennifer Aniston after his mom gave him a shove -- John and Jen had a steamy fling for about a year before he dropped her in 2009 and now John’s mom Margaret Meyer is scolding him for letting Jen go and John’s mom is always on him about settling down and she feels that at 43 he should be married and she recently had a heart-to-heart talk with him and told him she thought Jennifer was the most down-to-earth of all his exes and because John considers his mom one of the smartest people he knows he decided to reach out to Jen and he’s always admired Jen and thought of her as a classy lady and now he’s reaching out to her again in hopes of getting her to agree to see him again once things leave lockdown 

* FKA Twigs has socked actor Shia LaBeouf with a bombshell lawsuit claiming he subjected her to relentless physical, emotional and mental abuse and gave her an STD and she also accuses him of sexual battery, assault, and infliction of emotional distress -- although Shia says she’s lying Twigs insists Shia once choked her in the middle of the night and kept a loaded firearm by the bed leaving her terrified to get up at night for fear he’d think she was an intruder and shoot her -- she claims during an incident around Valentine’s Day 2019 Shia threatened to crash his speeding car unless she professed her love for him so when he pulled into a gas station she got out of the car but he threw her against the car while screaming in her face then forced her back into the car -- Shia also had rules about how often Twigs had to kiss and touch him -- Shia has been arrested several times on now-dismissed charges including assault and disorderly conduct 

Page 10: John Lennon didn’t have to die -- that’s law enforcement experts’ explosive analysis after reviewing newly discovered evidence about the Beatles legend’s December 8, 1980 murder in NYC -- an odd series of coincidences and simple decisions put Lennon and his killer Mark David Chapman in the same place at the same time -- a review of the details concludes Lennon’s death was a strange result of flukes including his penchant for running around without protection and a missed appointment with his photographer and without these quirks of fate John would still be alive and recording hit songs 

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Pink flashes her bandaged thumb after getting stitches in Santa Monica (picture), Amanda Seyfried confesses she made a terrible decision for turning down the role of a lifetime as Chris Pratt’s love interest in Guardians of the Galaxy and now she’s watching from the sidelines as the director’s second choice Zoe Saldana skyrockets in the money-making Marvel franchise, Katherine Heigl will star in the upcoming limited biopic series Woodhull about Victoria Woodhull the first woman to run for president in 1872, Big Brother alum Zach Rance has come out as bisexual after admitting a sizzling same-sex romance with his former reality show housemate Frankie Grande who is the real-life older brother of pop star Ariana Grande

Page 13: Jaime King slurps down a meal on the streets on L.A. (picture), Jax Taylor mowing the lawn (picture), Guns N’ Roses axman Slash loads up on supplies at an L.A. grocery (picture), former teen heartthrob Chad Michael Murray admits his inflated young ego got the best of him and now he looks at photos of himself and thinks what a dweeb

Page 14: Julia Roberts is headed for the small screen headlining the limited TV series The Last Thing He Told Me where she’ll form an unexpected relationship with her teenage stepdaughter while searching for the truth about her husband’s mysterious disappearance, Emma Stone is also heading for the flat-screen in the comedy series The Curse alongside Nathan Fielder about a couple starring on an HGTV-style show who are trying to conceive a child amid an alleged curse, Nicolas Cage is hosting a new series called The History of Swear Words in which he’ll delve into the origins and pop culture usage and science and cultural impact of profanely shocking expletives

* Fashion Police -- Peyton List 8/10, Sofia Carson 9/10, Vanessa Hudgens 2/10, Neve Campbell 1/10, Chelsea Handler 4/10 

Page 16: Cover Story -- Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s $30M jail break -- terrified and tortured Ghislaine risks family fortune to buy her freedom -- the accused sex predator and her fat cat inner circle are set to plunk down an obscene $30 million to buy her way out of federal prison in what outraged investigators fear is a brazen plot to cheat justice 

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Mayim Bialik

* Lizzo is admitting she’s having negative thoughts and is hating her 300-pound body but adds she knows she beautiful

* The Spice Girls were likely liquored up on cut-rate champagne when they made their first album according to Emma Bunton a.k.a. Baby Spice who says she and her bandmates swilled the cheapest sparkling wine in the studio 

Page 20: True Crime -- a chilling message left by the elusive Zodiac Killer has finally been cracked by a team of code breakers after 51 years -- a hodgepodge of numbers, symbols and letters called the 340 cipher was sent to the San Francisco Chronicle in 1969 and lawmen believed it contained key clues to the serial killer’s identity but the truth is even more chilling -- according to the experts the message says I hope you are having lots of fun in trying to catch me, I am not afraid of the gas chamber because it will send me to paradise all the sooner because I now have enough slaves to work for me 

Page 21: Caitlyn Jenner is terrified after learning her skin cancer has returned a second time -- she was diagnosed with basal cell skin cancer a few years ago and had an entire layer of skin removed from her nose -- since then she’s been slathering on sunscreen but a new red spot on the right side of her nose popped up along with some crusty areas on her scalp but the nose patch was not cancer but hypertrophic keratosis or scaly damage from sun exposure -- however the dozen spots on the top of her head was squamous cell carcinoma which is a skin cancer that’s known to be aggressive so her doctor burned off the offending spots -- her doctor recommended she replace her 1960 Austin-Healey convertible but the chances of Caitlyn selling her prized ride are slim 

Page 23: Your 2021 Horoscope -- love, luck, health, wealth, happiness -- plus surprising celebrity predictions -- Elton John, Valerie Bertinelli, Johnny Depp, Jessica Simpson, Matthew Perry, Cameron Diaz, Will Smith, Katy Perry, Howie Mandel, Savannah Guthrie, Justin Timberlake, Carrie Underwood 

Page 30: Larry King has reached a deal with estranged wife Shawn but she’s royally peeved about the payoff -- Larry has agreed to pay her a lump sum of $20,000 plus $33,000 a month in spousal support which lasts until at least their next scheduled hearing in April but Shawn claims the 33Gs only covers a third of her monthly nut which includes $25,000 for rent on her home, $12,000 on clothes, $3500 on groceries and $4500 for hair and nails and pet care and gym 

Page 31: Kim Kardashian is reading husband Kanye West the riot act over his junk food benders that are sabotaging her healthy eating program and it’s led to more than a few arguments with no peace in sight -- he’s telling her to chill and let him live by his own terms but she can’t do that because it’s driving her crazy -- what really ticks Kim off is his junk food has totally taken over her section of fresh cut veggies, fruits and water and she wants him to get his own storage in a different part of the house where she won’t have to see it or hold her nose 

* Kardashian momager Kris Jenner’s faux reality TV home is on the market for nearly $8 million even though she never lived there -- the L.A. estate was used for exterior shots of the image-conscious family’s compound on Keeping Up with the Kardashians but it was all for show -- dubbed the Iredell Estate the house also appears in True Blood and Chelsea Lately 

Page 33: Health Report 

Page 34: Wrestling Ring Kings: Where Are They Now? Sable, Bret Hart

Page 35: Lex Luger, Steve Austin, Ric Flair 

Page 36: The Undertaker, Tito Santana, Diamond Dallas Page 

Page 37: Kane, Kurt Angle, Sunny, Mick Foley 

Page 39: Despite an astounding 30 No. 1 country music hits legendary singer Charley Pride took a haunting regret to his grave that he never made it as major league baseball star -- Charley had so much success but he died tormented his baseball career short-circuited -- Charley was singing and playing guitar by the time he was 14 but his real goal was to pitch for the New York Yankees -- Charley signed with a Yankees farm team as a flame-throwing phenom at 17 but in his rookie season he threw out his arm and was just never the same -- after he struck out in baseball he put his full energy into singing but faced an uphill battle -- Charley was the Jackie Robinson of country music and he endured a lot of racism 

Page 40: Kelsey Grammer admits he often breaks down and blubbers like a baby and it makes him feel better and he cries when he’s upset or sad or scared and it provides him a lot of relief and he believes years of tragedy in his life taught him to cry as a healing mechanism and now he sheds tears whenever he has sad feeling bottled up inside him 

* A moneybags James Bond fan coughed up a whopping $256,000 for the handgun 007 Sean Connery toted in the first spy epic Dr. No -- the disabled Walther PP semi-automatic was supposed to bring in no more than $200,000 but the unidentified American buyer who claims to have seen every Bond epic went even higher 

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Miley Cyrus is now blabbing about why she broke up with husband Liam Hemsworth after years of togetherness and just nine months of marriage and it sounds like a case of the pot calling the kettle black 

Page 45: Furious Queen Elizabeth has booted Princess Eugenie and her husband out of Prince Harry’s Frogmore Cottage home in a bit to foil Meghan Markle’s plan to completely cut him off from England and the royal family -- pregnant Eugenie and her booze-seller husband Jack Brooksbank were ordered to quit the cottage and move back to Kensington Palace just six weeks after Harry and Meghan secretly leased them the home meaning Harry and Meghan are still on the financial hook for Frogmore which was a gift from the queen and they will have to underwrite the cost of keeping up the property and it also ensures Harry has a home in Britain if he ever wants to come back -- by moving Eugenie and Jack out the queen has made sure Harry still has a place to hang his hat if he decides to come back to leave his American wife 

Page 47: Bizarre But True