#I think I may have finally tracked down a pharmacy

[tsfennec]

.

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

More Precious Than Rubies: 6a

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 4285

TW: Idiots in love; angst; smut (PiV, protected; mild mentions of oral sex). 18+ only.

AN: The prompt was "So...what are we now?"

In the list of all the bad decisions you’d made in your life, sleeping with opposing counsel ranked right near the top.  At the very top?  Sleeping with opposing counsel – twice – without protection.

When you woke up the following morning and found Barba long gone, it had taken exactly two seconds for an icy fear to wash over you.  You doubted you’d end up pregnant, the timing didn’t seem likely, but you still got dressed and half-walked, half-sprinted to the nearest pharmacy for a healthy dose of Plan B.  You took it and spent the rest of the weekend feeling cranky, nauseous, and headachy.

Exactly the right frame of mind to write up your motions to reopen a handful of cases that Rudnick had touched as the medical examiner.  If Barba hadn’t fled in the morning like a guilty criminal, you might feel worse to be raining hell down on the District Attorney’s office.  You knew that if it wasn’t you, though, it’d be someone else.  The sharks were circling. 

It may as well be the scrappy, underfed public defender shark instead of a sleek or overfed Calhoun or Buchanan.

********

Barba didn’t see you for a few days.  He spent the weekend lying low and feeling guilty, and when his guilt eased up, he thought about how you had looked when you had rode him early that morning.  Then the guilt returned threefold.  In retrospect, he was pretty certain that you’d been sober enough to consent, especially for the second round, which made him feel worse for fleeing.

It wasn’t until the very early hours of Monday morning that he woke up with a gasp, the realization of what he’d done truly sinking in.  He’d had sex with you twice without protection, and he had no clue if you were on the pill or not.   

His forehead broke out in a fine sheen of sweat as he considered the implications.  He was probably fine.  Probably.  But what if he – and you – weren’t fine?  He’d only ever had one close call before when he was much younger.  Logistically, he was in a much better place to handle an unplanned pregnancy…his mind reeled, and he felt himself get stuck in a ruminative cycle of thinking, worrying over the same point over and over:  what if he’d gotten you pregnant?

He saw you the following Wednesday, and you looked too stern to be pregnant.  You were coming out of the floor that held the Clerk of Courts, and when you saw Barba, your stern look turned to one that was positively predatory.

The fact that you were carrying a wide, stretched out accordion file – now empty – made his stomach sink even further.

You looked like you were just going to walk past him without a word, but he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a few days.  He turned and fell in beside you, and he laid a gentle hand on your elbow.  “Can I have a word, counselor?” he asked.

You jerked your elbow out of his hand, but he stuck by your side and matched you step for step, so you finally huffed and stopped walking.  “Fine,” you snapped.  You looked around and then gestured towards the stairwell.  “Come on.”

He followed you, and once the heavy fire door slammed behind him, you turned to face him. 

“I want to apologize,” he started, but you cut him off. 

“Don’t bother.  Anything else?”  When he didn’t answer right away, you went to step past him.  As you reached for the door, he stopped you by laying a hand on your outstretched arm.

“Are we…okay?” he asked.

You tilted your head.  “What do you mean, ‘okay’?”

He exhaled a heavy breath through his nose.  “I mean, we didn’t use protection.”

You looked at him a long minute.  “It’s fine.  I took my body-weight in Plan B, and I have a clean bill of health.”  You smirked and added, “compassion isn’t sexually transmitted, so you’re safe.”

He bit back a smile that threatened to cross his face.  “Thank god.  I’d hate to have the urge to hug criminals.”

You didn’t seem to feel a compunction to smile at him.  Instead, you stared at him another moment, and to break the silence, Barba tried to apologize again.

“I said not to bother,” you reminded him.  “Besides, I got my revenge.”

“How so?”

You held up the empty folder with that vulturine grin, all teeth like some sort of predator.  “You ever see the movie ‘Groundhog Day’?  How would you and your office like to relive some of your greatest hits?”

He inhaled sharply.  “You filed a motion to reopen a case?  Which one?”

Your smile widened.  “Which ones is the better question.”

“How dare you…”

“How dare Carl Rudnick,” you snapped, talking over him.  “I have to go.  You should probably go too.  You have some work to do, Mr. Barba.”

Then you stepped past him and shoved open the stairwell door, and while his temper was stoked to a heated pitch, his gaze still slipped down to watch your ass as you marched away from him.

********

You had filed four motions, and all four were granted.  Two were pleaded down with both clients out immediately on time already served.  Another had his conviction completely overturned once an outside lab handled the testing.  The fourth would go back to trial, but without the “expert” testimony of Rudnick, everything else was circumstantial.  And now you could play the sympathetic, unjustly convicted card with the jury.

And you had been right – your four were just the beginning of a rapidly cresting wave that was crashing around the District Attorney’s office. 

You did, ultimately, feel bad for Barba.  You saw him in the courthouse, and he looked positively haggard.  So did O’Dwyer and Callier and every other employee of the D.A.’s office.  It wasn’t their fault.  They were just reaping the bitter harvest of what a serial killing medical examiner had sowed.

The sting of Barba’s cowardly fleeing after your hookup lost its fire too. 

You were leaving a local precinct after meeting with a new client, and you glanced down at your watch.  It was late afternoon, when most people were wrapping up for the day, but you knew Barba would be in for a long night.  Maybe you could bring a peace offering.

His admin assistant was already gone by the time you got there, so you knocked on the door and waited for him to call you in.  When he did and when you entered his office, you didn’t miss the slight smile he gave you.  He was sitting on his couch, with case files scattered beside him and on the ground in front of him.

“I come bearing gifts,” you said as you held up the coffee.  He stood up and gestured for you to sit as he shifted his paperwork off of the spot beside him.  Then he took the coffee from you with a murmured thanks.

He took a sip and groaned at it – you’d sprung for the good stuff, since a man with such nice suits would never settle for a Starbucks blonde roast.  “This in no way makes up for all the motions you’ve filed,” he said. 

“I filed four.  I heard Calhoun filed more than that.”

He groaned again, this time in pain.  “Yeah, she filed more than twenty.  Rudnick worked on a lot of cases.  And this doesn’t even count the internal investigation in other cases that Rudnick ruled as suicide or accidental deaths.  The state is re-opening everything to make sure nothing untoward slipped through.”

“Long days?”

“And long nights, and long weekends.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, Barba,” you said, and he glanced over at you.  His eyes had the bleary, blood-shot look of a man who’d been reading all day.

He snorted.  “Sure.  This is your revenge for me acting like an ass.”

“Someone else was going to file first,” you pointed out.  “I just got mine in before the avalanche.”

“Worked out for you.  You got one conviction completely overturned.”  He sipped his coffee.  “Quite a feather in a young lawyer’s cap.”

You heaved a sigh and turned to face him, tucking a leg under you on the couch.  “This isn’t about recognition for me, Barba.”

“It’s about hugs.”

There he was.  He had been a tired, pitiable specimen when you’d come into his office, slumped over a pile of cases that he thought had been closed.  But revived with strong Italian roast, he was back to his snarky, asshole self.  You should have gotten him a Starbucks after all.

“Look,” you said, and you held up a finger to start ticking off your points, all the reasons that the right to competent counsel was an important hallmark of American justice.  Before you could even start, though, he plunked his coffee down on the side table and was on you.  He laid his hand on the back of your head and pulled you toward him just as he was leaning closer to you.

“Let’s skip the arguing, just for today,” he said, and his eyes scanned your face for any emotion that might betray your disapproval or approval.  You nodded faintly, and he closed the gap between you.

His kiss was firm but his lips were as soft as you remembered.  And you’d thought about your evening together numerous times, too many times, so it didn’t take much to restoke that flame.  You tilted your head a bit and parted your lips, and he took advantage and slid his tongue into your mouth.  You could taste the bitter coffee on him, and beyond it, the familiar taste of him that brought you back to that night in your apartment.  It sent a bolt of uncomfortable desire straight to your core.

Maybe he could taste you too because he groaned into your mouth and pulled you closer to him.  It was an awkward angle on the couch.  Neither of you seemed willing to break the kiss, though, so you each adjusted by fractions, fumbling against each other.  You tried to pull him to you first, but he was stronger, and you found yourself straddling his lap.  Your pencil skirt strained against your thighs, and it was pushed up to an almost obscene height.

You ran your hands over his broad chest, and his own hands were on your waist, tugging your silk blouse from your waistband so that he could touch the bare skin of your back.  His tongue claimed your mouth, and it reminded you of the other ways he’d claimed you.  You rolled your hips against the growing bulge in his pants, and he groaned as he broke the kiss.

“We should stop,” he said.  His voice was a low growl that made you even wetter than you already were.

You wanted to point out that he started it, but you only nodded and tried to dismount.  His hands still held you fast though, his warm palms stoking the fire already burning in you.  You looked at him, confused, and his irises seemed even more of a brilliant green against the red rims of his eyelids.  You wriggled against him – not to turn him on, even though it made him inhale sharply – to try to climb off, but he moved one of his hands from your back to your head and pulled you back down to kiss him.

You broke away after a moment.  “Wait, do you want to stop?”  He shifted his head so that his mouth was near you ear.  You could feel his breath, heavy against you, and it sent a delicious shudder through you.

“Absolutely not,” he growled.  His hands drifted down to your hips, and he pulled you against him to drive home the point.  “I only said we should.”

Your voice was shaky with lust.  “Well, we don’t have protection, so we need too.”

He sighed against your ear, then pressed a gentle kiss on the hinge of your jaw.  You could feel the disappointment coming off of him in waves:  he was tired and over-worked, and he probably needed a release as much as you did.  You climbed off of him, and he didn’t stop you this time.

“Hey, wait,” he said.  He stood up and strode over to his desk, and he pulled open the middle drawer.  You heard him rifling through the junk – heard the rattle of loose coins, the rustling of paper.  “Here,” he said triumphantly, and you stood up and walked over to join him behind his desk. 

He held his hand out, a fistful of condoms in it. 

“You keep condoms in your desk, Barba?  Gross.”  You pulled a disgusted face at the implications.  “You having a lot of sex in here?”

His look of triumph twisted into concern when he saw your face.  “No, it’s not like that.  SVU hosted an enthusiastic consent seminar at Hudson University.  See?”  He tossed you one – one side of the wrapper had the NYPD logo.  “Rollins stuffed a bunch into my briefcase when I wasn’t looking.  I came back to my office and there was a whole pile in there.”

You snorted at the ridiculousness of an NYPD-branded condom.  “Nothing gets college kids horny like the police.”  You tossed it back at him, and he fumbled it.  He laid the entire handful on his desk and reached for you again.  He pulled you flush against him, and you could feel him still, mostly hard and growing harder by the moment.

“We don’t have to stop now,” he murmured.

“But we should, probably.”

“Probably.  This is a terrible idea,” he agreed.  He laid one hand on your ass, pulling you closer to him.  The other hand was on the back of your head, pulling your mouth back to his. 

You laid your own palms on his chest again, sliding them under his ludicrous suspenders.  “Nothing good can come of it.” 

“Yeah,” he huffed.  “You might get mad at me and dump a pile of work on my office.”

You pulled your head back and glared at him.  “I was mad because you fled my apartment like it was the scene of a crime, you…”

You caught his grin as he leaned forward and captured your mouth, cutting you off before you could build up any steam. 

It was a short distance from kissing to fucking.  Neither of you seemed to need any foreplay beyond what you’d already done, and you both seemed too desperate for the other’s touch.  He sat you on the edge of his desk, and then he unzipped himself and unrolled one of the NYPD-approved condoms onto his length. 

The only words you exchanged from that point was when he asked if you were sure, and you had smirked and told him that you enthusiastically consented to him fucking you.  He placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs apart, and he stepped between them.  He stroked a lone finger against the fabric of your panties, growling at how soaked they were, and then he pushed the fabric to the side and pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He looked at you again, probably for signs of hesitation or reluctance, so you pulled him closer to you.  You reached down and grabbed his ass and drew him into you, loving the feel of fullness as he settled his full length into you.

Barba hissed something garbled, and he put a hand on the small of your back as he drove into you.  He reached down with his other hand and wrapped your left leg around his waist, and then he picked up the pace, fucking you steadily.  You wrapped your own arms around his shoulders, and he bent his head to bury it against your upper chest.  Your heart was pounding so hard that you were sure he could hear it.

You wrapped your other leg around him, helping him drive into you.  Every time he bottomed out, his pelvis ground against your clit, and your orgasm overtook you quickly.  You gave a low moan, tried to keep quiet in case anyone was around.  You could feel him shuddering against you with his own release, and you trembled against him as your vision was awash in white stars behind your eyelids.

“Jesus,” he muttered against you once he recovered, and he pulled out of you and turned away, oddly shy as he cleaned himself up as best as he could.  You slid off of the desk on shaky legs and straightened your own situation.  You smoothed out your skirt and tucked your blouse back in, and you tried to tuck the loose strands of hair behind your ears.

Then you turned to leave.  He caught your movement out of the corner of his eye.  “Are you leaving without saying goodbye?” he asked, incredulous.

“Now you know how it feels, Barba.”  You walked carefully, your legs still a little weak, and reached the office door.

“Have a good night,” he called out.

“You too,” you replied, not even catching yourself until you caught his bark of laughter behind you.  You turned to look at him, and you shook a chiding finger at him. 

“That wasn’t me saying goodbye,” you said.  “You’re ordered to feel badly now.”

He held up his hands in surrender.  “You’re the boss,” he said, but he smirked as he said it.

********

Barba knew it was a terrible idea, hooking up with opposing counsel. 

On the other hand, the forbidden nature of it made it even hotter – and it was already pretty hot without any help.  Those pencil skirts you seemed to prefer made your ass look amazing, and when you put your feisty mouth to other purpose, it was enough to drive Barba wild.

You seemed to feel the same.  He caught you at least once openly ogling him.  He had been in a waistcoat with his sleeves rolled up, and he made a mental note to loosen up his clothing more around you. 

And in all the times you coupled, you reached for him first at least half of the time.  It definitely wasn’t one-sided.

It started with incidental hooking up.  You’d drop off some paperwork for him, he’d stop by your ridiculously small office to talk plea deal.  You’d handle business and then get to separate business. 

There was the time he bent you over your desk and fucked you from behind, savoring the sight of your ass as he plunged into you.  The time you knelt in front of him with a smile that was almost shy and showed him what your mouth could do.  The time he knelt in front of you and showed you the same.

That time had been especially memorable.  He had to go to arraignment after that, and he had given the judge the salient details of the charges with the taste of you still in his mouth.

There was even a feverish episode in the men’s room of the courthouse, after hours.  His office was being vacuumed by the custodial staff, so he had pulled you into the restroom and fucked you against the stall as he held one hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds.

From the incidental hooking up came a more essential sort of hooking up.  It started when he called you one night, lonely.  He truly just wanted to hear a friendly voice, even if the voice was usually giving him hell about his job.  But you had offered to come over, and even though Barba knew it was just a hook-up for you, he had jumped on the offer.

You’d been in a nice dress, and he had felt a sting of jealousy when he imagined you on a date, but you were with him then and there.  He had carried you to his room and taken his time with you, extending your time together. 

But you had still left afterwards.  Barba always tried to draw it out at the end, get you to stay a moment longer, but you were young and in excellent cardio health.  You got dressed lightning-fast and were out the door, leaving him sated and a little sad.

Another time, you called him.  You sounded tipsy over the phone, but by the time he got to Brooklyn, you were sober and a little sheepish about calling him.  He had wanted to take his time again, but you had begged him to just fuck you, so he did.  When you didn’t ask him to stay, he went ahead and left, but he made a point to kiss you gently and tell you goodbye this time.

He knew it was a terrible idea, falling for you.  He knew you had an armor around you that rivaled his own, and he had an idea what had caused it.  He tried, here and there, to chip away at it.  You seemed impervious though.

********

In college and even before that, you had an inkling that being a public defender would be draining work.  Everyone always talked about how it was thankless, the pay was low, the burnout potential high.  Public defenders were overworked with caseloads so heavy that they couldn’t give any single case the care and attention it deserved. 

You had no real idea how bad it’d be though.  It was thankless – cops hated to see you walk into their precincts. Clients tended to distrust you.  The public could be especially cruel when you were defending someone who was obviously guilty or observably violent.

Your life had settled into a dreary pattern, like a heavy lead sky hung over it.  Work dominated everything.  You slept poorly and ate poorly.  You went for training runs, and that’s all that counted for fun in your life.

You didn’t have anyone to really talk to.  Even if you’d still been with Sonny, you knew you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him.  You’d veered close to learning that lesson when you were still in collage.

Sarah and Chauncey were lawyers too, but they were in private practice and were always trying to lure you in with stories about less hours, less heartache, and more money.  Aside from them, you had no one.  Your own family had imploded a long time ago, and while you still talked to your dad, you purposely kept it light for him.

You could maybe talk to Barba.  He always gave you a hard time about wanting to heal the world with hugs, but you would bet that he’d understand if you wanted to talk.  Unfortunately, neither of you got much talking done – it was either squabbling over cases or sex.

Not that you’d ever complain about the latter – even if nothing good was going to come of your illicit liaisons with Barba.

-----

Barba was over at your apartment.  It was a Saturday night, you’d been in near tears about a new case collapsing on you, and you just needed…something.  It was becoming a habit for both of you to call the other when you needed a hook-up, and you wondered if sometimes the hooking up was just a reason to be with someone familiar.

You had called him, a little embarrassed as you always were to feel so weak.  He had rushed over.  Your mind had been reeling with your case, you were caught in circuitous thoughts about what to do, and your pulse had been racing.  All you wanted was something hard and fast, no talking. 

All you wanted was to feel something other than the panic that was rising from deep in you.

Barba had other ideas though.  You had reached for him, but he’d only pulled you into a hug.  You had kissed him hard, but he’d only kissed you back gently.

When you finally got him into your bedroom, he had been too leisurely.  Too insistent that he gaze into your eyes, which felt way too intimate for you.  Ultimately, the two of you had joined in a way that felt good – that was the thing with Barba.  Even when you were on completely different wavelengths, it was still good.

Afterwards, though…he tried to cuddle up against you.  Worse than that, he tried to talk.

“So…what are we now?” he asked.  He looked at you with those bright green eyes.

You knew as soon as it was out of your mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.  A hurtful thing to say.  In the days that would follow, you’d do a lot of soul-searching to try and understand why you had said it.  Barba was a good man, possible even a great one, but you didn’t treat him well in that moment. 

You snorted at the question.  “We’re opposing counselors who occasionally hate-fuck each other for release.”

The look on his face would bother you for a long while afterwards.  The faint hopefulness on his face when he asked the question disappeared, and it was replaced by a stony mask.  “This is hateful to you?” he asked.

And you took too long to reply, so he got up without a word and got dressed.  You stammered out something nonsensical about hooking up, tried to make a joke, but it was too late.  You can’t un-ring a bell, and you couldn’t pull back those hateful, disappointing words.  You felt an immediate shame at what you’d done.

“Hey,” you tried to say as you pulled a blanket around your naked form and followed him out of the bedroom.

He only looked at you once as he pulled on his coat and left.  The look in his eyes was pure hurt. 

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 26

This is the second chapter of the fic started yesterday and found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59225953?view_full_work=true

Granted, it's all there now so... just enjoy reading wherever!

#26- Heart Condition

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” May announced as she finally returned to their apartment, winded from both her discomfort and the climb up six flights of stairs.

Peter jackknifed up from where he’d been dozing on the sofa. “May?”

She dropped her purse onto the kitchen table and breathed a sigh of relief. “I love you with my entire—being, but if you ever—feel the need for—me to go to the emergency room—again, I swear on the soul of my dead—great-grandmother Rosalina that I am taking you with me—and you’re going in the Spider-Man, suit. –You got me?”

He tried to track what she was saying as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then checked the time on his watch. “What? What the heck happened?” His spidey senses were going off like fireworks. “Are you okay? What took you so long? I was waiting for you!” He jumped over the back of the couch and looked her over. “Do I need to run to the corner to pick something up from the pharmacy for you?”

May rolled her eyes at his inquisition, . “No, thank goodness!—But if you had any idea what I had to go through today, Peter...”

Peter’s eyes widened as he realized the trouble he’d caused. “I’m sorry?”

“I-I –” She was overwhelmed, could barely find the words to describe the horror that had been her day. “I can’t even,” she coughed lightly. “Look. I’m tired and I’m frustrated—I,” she coughed again. “I don’t want you thinking on this—anymore.  I’m glad to be home, and at the end of it all, a—I’m sporting some fantastic new bruises, and—a very lovely med student declared my scapular muscle officially pulled—JUST like I said it was!”

Peter took a step closer, confused. “Bruises? Did you fall? What hap—?”

She halted any further inquiries with raising of her left hand. “Nope. I’m not talking about it right now.”

“But May—?”

“No!” May was trying to calm herself. “Just know that, because I’m trying to find some humour in this,—I ended up being flashed on the subway, too, by the way—and you’re not allowed any dolphin tattoos—ever— Now, if you’ll excuse me— I’m going to wash off this day and these hospital cooties with a long, hot shower, and— then I’m going to nap before we leave for the tower, capisce?!”

Peter frowned, but nodded as he mumbled, “Capisce.”

She grabbed Peter with both hands by the cheeks, winced, and pulled him down to her for a kiss on his forehead. “I love you. Stop worrying. I’m fine— All I need is some rest and,” May coughed, “to take a deep breath!” She caught Peter’s look of concern. “I’ll be fine.”

She released him, then turned to head down the short hallway to her bedroom.

His stomach dropped. He’d been so sure something was wrong this morning, and still was! But all he’d actually done was make things worse...

What the heck?

Peter worried at his lip as his mind ran in circles. He’d messed up—big time. Now, all he could do was try to fix things.

/-/-/

Peter was a wreck—and it could have been the fact that his senses hadn’t settle at all—but he was leaning more towards the fact that it was also paired with the realization that he couldn’t figure out how to make things right.

Peter had heard her tossing and turning in her bedroom, trying-and failing- to get comfortable for that first half hour after deciding a nap was the greater priority than cleaning up. He took the initiative, and tracked down their ancient heating pad from the bowels of the tiny linen closet May always hid Peter’s Christmas presents in and knocked gently at her bedroom door.

“Aunt May? Did you want to try using the heating pad?” he called out, just loud enough for her to hear. “Maybe it’ll help?”

“ugh,” She sort of grunted, confusing Peter.

“May?” He had to ask, “Is that a yes?”

He heard her feet hit the floor, then a little stagger before she made her way to the door. “That,” she threw the door open and dragged herself down the hallway, “is me giving up on life.”  

His eyes widened in alarm, “May?!”

“I’m joking! I’m joking!” Her left arm came up in surrender—she didn’t bother hiding that she wasn’t moving her other arm anymore. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should bother with tonight...” She coughed again. “I’m stressed because of the pain, which means I can’t rest, and if I can’t rest I’ll be too tired to go out tonight, and if I don’t go tonight, who knows when Pepper’s schedule will free up. And I know that Pepper was hoping for a night to unwind after Tony and all of that mess with the Accords.”

“Oh.” Peter had to do something.

“But I also know how comfortable that big ol’ couch of theirs is, and I’m almost tempted to ask if I can camp out on it just so I can try a different sleep position, seeing as my mattress is a bust and I’m not going in for my shift tomorrow anyhow.”

“May? Is it that bad?”

“Relax, it’s just standard operation procedure when...” She caught herself and trailed off.

He scowled, “You know you’re killing me, here, right?” Peter wasn’t even going to pretend he wasn’t a little frustrated.

“I’m sure you’ll live.” She rebutted, “I told you I didn’t want to talk about, but if you need something to satiate your curiosity, just know that it involved ear wax and assault... and a court date to be determined at a future date.”

Peter glared, “If you don’t want to tell me, you can just say so, you know.”

May laughed lightly, to keep him off track. “Oh, sweetheart,” she humoured him. “I think I did—twice. On the plus side,” she coughed, “I didn't need to pay for the covid test and I’m definitely not sick so, yay me.”

“yay.” Peter parroted back, still worried but trying to hide it. Then, it came to him—the most brilliant idea. Taking a gargantuan amount of control to keep his face from revealing anything, Peter made a suggestion. “Look? Why don’t you go take your shower and see if the heat helps? We can always head over to the tower, and if you need to come home, then we come home.”

May moved to protest, but Peter cut her off, fast.

“If you’re worried about my lab time, I wouldn’t mind!” Peter needed to convince her. “You know I’d pick you over a stinky old lab any day. Or like you said! We can just spend the night at the tower. I already have a room there, and you know that Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts don’t mind—and I promise to get up early to make it to school on time.”

May couldn’t imagine imposing, but the idea of spending an evening wallowing in pain in her cluttered little bedroom was torturous. Maybe it would have made more sense for her back when she’d still had Ben to keep her company, but...

“I can even call Mr. Stark and let him know what’s going on so he knows.” Peter was trying to sell it. “Would that make it better for you?”

“I can call—”

But Peter cut her off again, “No—YOU go take a hot shower and I’ll call. I’ll tell you what Mr. Stark says when you get out, deal?”

The hot water sounded good to the point of distraction. “And you’ll let him know that I’m sort of useless right now?”

“You’re never useless, Aunt May.” Peter argued, “But I’ll tell him that you’ve hurt your shoulder, yes.”

“And you’ll get him to talk to Pepper? I’m good with rescheduling if that works for her, it’s only that I know how busy she is. She can just text me if that’s easier...”

Peter was getting impatient. “Yes, I’ll tell them... now go! You’re making ME hurt just looking at you!” He tried to be light, but honestly, he was pretty sure he needed another grown up right now—and he couldn’t call one until she was gone.

After all, May was all he had left

/-/-/

To say that Aunt May looked less than fine by the time she exited the bathroom a half an hour later would be an understatement.

That was sort of alright, though. It meant that she was too preoccupied to see that Peter’s eyes were perhaps still a little red and swollen from his accidental freak out while he tried to explain to Mr. Stark that something was wrong and that no one had caught it.

He’d learned in the beginning that he couldn’t assume that he knew what was wrong with a person just because something didn’t sound like he thought it should. That had been a hard lesson involving Mr. Stark, a weird ticking sound, and a three hour long lab session on how to identify specific brands of pacemakers—but May’s heart was beating sort of fast, she was in pain, and she’d obviously had a really crappy day thanks to Peter.

But this would work.

He plastered on the biggest smile he could manage. “I am to tell you that Mr. Stark says everything is taken care of. Also, Ms. Potts says she’ll be okay with whatever you want to do, and if you’d prefer, you guys can just chill out in sweats and watch movies while you stretch out on the couch all night—and Ms. Potts had already been planning to take the morning off so you’re good no matter what we choose. We can stay or go. No worries either way.”

Aunt May slumped with relief. “That sounds perfect. If you wanna give me a few minutes, I’m gonna change and figure out how to tie my hair back, then we can head out. Okay?”

“About that...” Peter wasn’t quite done, and wasn’t sure how Aunt May would take the additional information. “Um, Mr. Stark is sending Happy to come and get us so you can relax a little.”

And Aunt May got that look on her face when she was worried that boundaries were being overstepped. “Peter!”

“WHAT?!” He tried to look innocent, but one glare from May had him breaking like an uncooked spaghetti noodle. “Okay! So I may have told him about the flasher, too! Don’t be mad at me, please? I’m just worried about you and when Mr. Stark offered I couldn’t help myself!” 

“I’m sure you could have, Peter.” May glared. “Is there anything else I need to worry about?”  

The floor was looking really interesting...

“Peeeeter?”

Peter sighed and dropped his head in defeat. “Mrstarksaysyoucanseedrchointhemedbaytoo,” he whispered too low and fast for May to catch.

May knew what he was doing, though, “Do you wanna try saying that again, so I can understand you this time?”

He huffed in frustration and spoke a little more normally, “Mr. Stark says you can see Dr. Cho in the med bay... if you want.”

She shook her head in disbelief, “Tony’s bringing a world renowned geneticist to the tower because I hurt my back?”

“No!” Peter explained quickly, “She’s already in the tower doing some research and so Mr. Stark said it’d be alright if you wanted a second opinion. I mean you already know her because of me and all, right?”

He hoped that if she was gonna say no, that she’d just let it go, but then May got that look on her face that Peter always, ALWAYS hated. He hadn’t seen it in a while, but he couldn’t forget the ‘Peter is overreacting because he suffered trauma’ face—and maybe he had, but maybe he also knew that May was ignoring something big.

“Peter. Please, honey...”

And Peter also knew that now wasn’t the time to argue with her, so he buried his disappointment deep and  simply said, “It’s okay, May. It was just an offer...” He fussed with the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing then glimpsed his watch. Um, Happy’s gonna be here soon, though. Can I help you with your hair?”

/-/-/

Mr. Stark’s greeting was a bit subdued compared to how he normally met them. Peter was sure that Mr. Stark had gotten FRIDAY to do a basic, but silent vitals scan in the elevator, and already received its results. Even so, Aunt May couldn’t have missed his once over as they’d stepped out. “Hello, my favourite Parkers,” he announced as per usual, opening his arms wide, but instead of sweeping May into a playful hug or ruffling Peter’s hair, he simply placed a gentle hand on May’s back and led her and Peter toward the living room. “I’ve heard a rumour that someone has had a shitastic day... do you want me to pretend that I didn’t hack a bunch of security systems to view footage and such?”

May scoffed, then coughed, and playfully slapped Mr. Stark’s shoulder. “You’re hilarious, Tony. Please. Pretend away. I, myself, am choosing to pretend that today didn’t happen at all, so you are more than welcome to join the party.”

“I’m Tony Stark. I don’t need an invitation,” he drawled, then grew serious, “but you, my dear, do look like you need a little something. Pepper’s just in the kitchen getting some snacks ready for your evening...” Mr. Stark looked as concerned as Peter felt.

“I’m fine, Tony,” May insisted.

But Peter and Mr. Stark shared a brief glance, and Peter knew that he could see what Peter had seen. Peter practically melted with relief that he’d made the right call.

And then that moment was over and Mr. Stark had shifted back into host mode. “Of course you are, so—what can I get you? A nice white wine? Maybe a red? – or perhaps some top notch muscles relaxants from the med bay?”

May glared, “Aren’t you on fire tonight?”

Just then, Pepper came in from the kitchen carrying the snacks Tony had mentioned, “Hey, all, I thought some crackers and such would be a good idea to start for... oh. May?” Pepper saw it, too, but she had no reason to pretend everything was fine. She rushed over to the large upholstered ottoman and dropped the tray before taking over from Tony and bringing May the rest of the way to the couch. “Come sit down!”

May did exactly that, unintentionally letting her guard down in front of Peter as she did. “Phew, I am so tired,” she confessed, then looked to the room at large. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, guys?”

And Mr. Stark crooked an eyebrow, “Or maybe it was? In fact, I’d suspect that you coming here was the smartest thing you’ve done today.”

“Tony—” May started, but winced when she moved wrong.

Peter stepped towards her but stopped when he realized how much she was hurting, afraid he’d make it worse.

Mr. Stark had had enough. “Nope. That’s it. I’ve been in your presence for less than five minutes and even I can see that you need an assist. Peter,” Mr. Stark pointed toward the elevator, “You and me, med bay. Let’s go get your aunt some painkillers and a couple of those heat packs Sam uses when he can’t deny that he’s old anymore.”

Peter nodded.

Then Mr. Stark looked to Pepper, trying not to hover over her dear friend. “Pep? You’ll watch over Aunt May till we get back?”  

“Of course,” she replied.

With that, FRIDAY reopened the elevator doors and the two were on their way.

Mr. Stark waited only a beat after the doors closed to plant a warm hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath for me, Pete. Nice and slow, okay?”

Peter had to try a couple of times before he finally managed.

“You doin’ alright there, kid?”

Peter sniffed, cleared his throat, and nodded a yes before hastily wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.”

Mr. Stark tugged the boy under his arm. “Hey, Pete, I know it’s scary when the people we love get sick, but you did good, alright. We’ll all keep an eye on her... I promise.”

Peter nodded again, “Did FRIDAY notice anything?”

Mr. Stark shook his head, ‘no.’ “Just the pulse, blood pressure, and heart rate issues that the hospital found.”

That startled Peter out of his funk, “What?”

“What?!” Mr. Stark asked back curiously. “Was I supposed to be pretending for you, too? What do you think the ‘and such’ I mentioned upstairs was?”

Peter blinked as his brain processed Mr. Stark’s question. “Huh?” He questioned eloquently, then realized it didn’t matter, “You know what? Never mind.”

“Thank you—though I was shocked to see that they hadn’t done any x-rays after everything that happened. Maybe we can convince your aunt to let us do a couple before the end of the night?”

“That would be awesome.” Peter replied then got quiet. “I know she’s been pretty worried about the bills and stuff lately so...”

Mr. Stark shook his head in disagreement. “Aw, Pete,” he reassured him, “Insurance would have covered her x-rays.”

Peter sighed, “Unless she’s reduced her insurance to the absolute minimum coverage...” Peter flushed with embarrassment. Here he was, revealing their secrets but this was May’s health they were risking here. “I heard her talking to someone in payroll after Uncle Ben...”

“Got it.” Mr. Stark exhaled slow, but then had another thought, “But she was also involved in an altercation on hospital property. The hospital still should have done at least x-rays to cover their asses should May decide to sue.”

Peter opened his mouth to try and glean some details of May’s day when a more official sounding FRIDAY than Peter had ever heard before boomed overhead. “The elevator is required for a medical emergency. Please exit immediately upon arrival at the medical floor to make room for medical responders. ”

Peter gasped in horror as the elevator sped up only a bit then looked wildly at Mr. Stark.

“It’ll be okay, Pete,” the man soothed as they watched the numbers on the floor display.

Peter prayed he was right.

/-/-/

Peter’s leg bounced impatiently as they waited outside of the treatment area May was currently hidden away in.

They hadn’t been there too long, but still definitely longer than anyone would have preferred after the drama of the last twenty minutes. May being rushed past them on a gurney, pain-pale and gasping for breath was something Peter hadn’t been prepared for—but then they’d closed the door, too.

Hearing was way worse, though.

“Peter, I know you’re still upset, but she’s exactly where she needs to be right now and Dr. Cho and her team are taking care good care of her,” Ms. Potts rubbed his back, trying to get him to calm down.

“I know that.” Peter twisted his hands together. “I’m just trying to figure this out and it isn’t making sense, is all.”

“Sometimes things like this don’t make sense,” Ms. Potts replied. “They can happen entirely out of the blue and we—”

“No!” Peter ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I mean, I can’t figure out what I’m hearing!” He turned to Mr. Stark, “I swear, there’s a new sound now—not like the pacemakers, Mr. Stark! But I don’t know what it is.”

Now Mr. Stark was confused. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Peter closed his eyes and concentrated as he tried to place it, “It’s like...” it was on the tip of his tongue. “It’s like sandpaper on wood... scratching? It’s—not right.”

Mr. Stark pondered this for a moment, “Have they heard it in there yet?” He gestured toward the room.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Well, then, I think they should.” He patted Peter’s knee and gave Ms. Potts a wink. “Be right back.” With that, he pushed up off of Peter’s leg, walked the dozen steps over to the treatment room door, and knocked.

A nurse Peter wasn’t familiar with opened the door a moment later. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a good time, sir. We’ll be out with information as soon as we can,” she said, then moved to close it and get back to work.

Mr. Stark thrust his foot out to stop it. “Wait. Tell Dr. Cho that Peter says to listen for a scratching sound, okay?”

“I’m sorry?” she asked. “A scratching sound?”

“Yes, like sandpaper on wood. A scratching sound.”

It takes a special kind of person to work with superheroes, and this woman was obviously one of them because she didn’t question the request, simply turned to face the room and called out, “Dr. Cho. Peter says he hears a scratching sound.”

The treatment room went silent.

And then, “Shit. Sit her up, now, please! Dana, bring the ultrasound!” Dr. Cho directed.

The nurse looked back at Mr. Stark and smiled politely. “Thank you. I’ll come out with an update once we know more.”

Mr. Stark nodded in acknowledgement and pulled his foot from the door. “Perfect. You know where we’ll be.” He grinned cheekily in return, then turned, returning to his seat.

Peter could have wept with relief as Ms. Potts wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “Good job, sweetheart. Always the hero,” she pronounced and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

He huffed out a laugh. It was easier to tune out the sounds of the treatment room now that they had a plan “I guess we’ll see?”

/-/-/

“I don’t understand.” Peter said simply as he sat at his aunt’s bedside, playing her fingers so he wouldn’t have to look at her still too pale face or the drainage tube poking out from her chest.

“What don’t you understand?” May asked. “I thought that Dr. Cho explained everything about the procedure?”

“She did! It’s just,” Peter tried to tamp down his anger. “You were at the hospital literally eight hours ago. How did they miss this?”

“Pericarditis can go from bad to worse pretty fast, sweetheart. I’m sure I managed to aggravate things with the events of my absolutely stellar day, too, so there’s blame to go around.”

He wasn’t buying it, “But then why didn’t they do x-rays? Mr. Stark said they didn’t do them in the ER.”

May thought on that for a minute, then shrugged. “I can only guess.”

That answer didn’t sit right with Peter, so after some hesitation he asked the question he had worried about most, “Um, did you decline it when they asked?” There. It was out in the universe. Was he too much? Was Peter a burden?

“Oh, no, Peter!” she exclaimed, realizing where his thoughts had gone. “I promise they never offered it, and after what had happened with the ear wax woman, I was just so ready to go home and be done with the day that I didn’t push.”

She’d said it to make him feel better, but it did the opposite. “But—but you had symptoms!” His sudden indignance forced him to look up at her finally, “What were they thinking?”

May just chuckled sadly. “I can tell you exactly what they were thinking.” She grabbed his hands to stop his fidgeting. “They were thinking that I’m a stressed out single parent who works a physically demanding job who had just been knocked on her ass by an upper middle-class prima donna.”

“And?” Peter wasn’t satisfied.

“And I can only assume my symptoms didn’t make sense for anything but the diagnosis they gave me.” May shrugged.

“That’s just lazy. Did he even listen to your heart?!”

May nodded, “Oh, he did, while said prima donna was hollering about the unfairness of the world and the burden of breaking a nail.”

Still unimpressed, Peter replied, “So you’re telling me your doctor messed up then.”

“In hindsight, I think everyone did.” May wasn’t going to mention the casual sign off of the attending physician who ignored her for the sake of a more involved case and hadn’t even bothered to do a double check of her diagnosis. May did wonder if they could reattach that poor woman’s finger, but that didn’t matter now. May continued, “Regardless, Dr. Cho will be in contact with the hospital for my records now that she’s taking over my care, which will flag my ER visit, which will hopefully lead to this becoming a teaching moment for someone.”

“They brushed you off.” He wasn’t going to let this go.

May sighed. “Yes, Peter, they did.” She couldn’t wiggle around it. “Welcome to the world of medical misogyny, my dear.” She squeezed his hands affectionately. “It sucks, but thank goodness I have you looking out for me, too, then, huh?”  

Peter squeezed back, mindful of his strength. “Always,” he blushed pink, “But don’t forget Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, too?”

And she wouldn’t.

After Ben, she’d been so sure she’d be alone, but now? Tony and Pepper had been there for Peter for so long... and now they were here for her.

Maybe the Parker luck wasn’t so bad after all?

“May?”

“Sorry, honey,” she smiled lovingly at her nephew, “I’m just realizing how right you are.”

[letarasstuff]

Breaking Protocol

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing for JJ for the first time :)

Summary: What will happen, if JJ isn't technically allowed to tell her family about the Anthrax Attack, but tries to do it anyways?

Warnings: Mentions of a sick child, Spencer eats Jell-O, so food

Wordcount: 1.8k

✨Masterlist✨ __________________________________

JJ always says that even though she is a communication liaison for the FBI, she is a mother first. This is something she promised her daughter when she first began to work there. And she is set on keeping that promise.

But today it turns out to be more difficult than ever. Hotch’s strict instruction to keep the information about the Anthrax Attack in the circle of the BAU and the military forbids the mother to say anything to her family. Still, her family is constantly on her mind.

If she is right, Will planned a trip with one year old Henry and 14 years old (Y/N) to the park. JJ can’t think about anything but her most important people in the world laying in the ER, coughing their lungs out and spluttering blood, while she is stuck at the office with the power to warn them.

Spencer comes into her office, asking for a certain file. “Spence, what would you do if your family is in potential danger?” He stops for a second to think about it: “Given the fact that my mother is in a sanctorium with guards and medical staff, I consider her pretty low risk and can’t put myself in a situation where she is in real danger. So I take all of you and since I see you as my family and the people that keep me going I think I would do anything to keep you safe.”

She looks up at him with her blue eyes. “Even if it means to break protocol?” “Especially if it means to break protocol”, he answers her firmly, exactly knowing what she means. Spencer knows that her little family means the world and more to her. If anything happens to them she would never be the same.

Meanwhile JJ sits there contemplating putting her job on the line for an eventually that maybe isn’t even true, Will runs around the house frantically.

“Maybe I can go and get some? I’m sure we can’t disturb mom at work”, (Y/N) suggests as she tries to console the crying Henry in her arms. Her stepdad considers the offer. They originally wanted to go to the park to have a small picnic and maybe even invite JJ to meet them there on her lunch break. But Henry caught something overnight and the only thing he does is crying and puking.

Will is looking for any kind of medicine, but he can’t find anything appropriate for children. “I guess you are right. Do you know which one we need? I’ll try to get him to sleep or calm down at least. Thank you so much, (Y/N), you are a lifesaver.”

“Of course, I do anything. When I get lost or something at the pharmacy I can still call you, right?” He nods while taking his son out of her arms in order for her to be able to put on her shoes. “Good, then see you soon. I’ll hurry up.”

(Y/N) takes her bike and decides to use the shortcut through the park. It’s a nice sunny day with a warm soft breeze going through the bushes. In moments like these the teenager knows that the world is alright. That somehow everything will be good. Always.

Buying the needed medicine for her baby brother takes place without any complications and soon she is back on track with her bike. Shortly before reaching her house, the teenager’s phone is ringing.

In case that Will needs something else (Y/N) has turned her ringtone on. Surprisingly it’s her mother, she sees after descending her bike and looks at the caller ID.

“Hey Mom, is everything ok? Did something happen?” As sad as this may sound, but in 90% it’s the case that she was hurt on her job or anybody else when she calls (Y/N) during her workday.

But JJ is relieved to hear her daughter safe and sound. “(Y/N), honey. Everything is fine. Did you go to the park with Henry and Will?” Slowly the girl continues her way back, pushing her bike. “No, we didn’t. Henry got sick overnight, so there is no way we could have taken him. I think it’s just a stomach bug. Will and I couldn’t find any medicine for him, so I did a quick run to the pharmacy. I’m actually on my way back right now. Why are you calling?”

Once again the mother tries to not answer her question. “Aw, poor Henry. Can you tell him that Mommy will be home soo- Wait, to which pharmacy did you go?”

Puzzled by her mother’s sudden harsh tone (Y/N) stops in her tracks. “Mom, what’s the problem? You never call me during work except when something happens. Is anybody in the hospital? Did you get kidnapped? Is this your last call to a loved one? Mom, answer me!” Panic sets in as the silence grows from JJ’s side.

“Honey, please tell me you didn’t go to the one on West Street. Please.” Her begging tone alarms the teenager further. Is this a clue?

“I did, Mom. I took my bike, went through the park to West Street. It’s the closest one and Henry really doesn’t feel good, so I had to hurry up. Can you please tell me what’s going on?!” But her mother stays quiet for several moments, as if she is calculating something.

Being finally fed up with her, (Y/N) speaks again: “If you don’t want to tell me anything, don’t bother call-” She is suddenly cut off by a huge coughing fit.

“(Y/N)? Honey, are you ok?” The agent’s mind goes into momma bear mode, completely ignoring any protocol in the world. But her daughter isn’t able to answer. Too stunned is she by the fact that she just coughed up blood. How is that poss-

“(Y/N), please answer me”, she begs again. “M-mom, I just c-coughed blood.” JJ feels like her heart stops. This can’t be happening.

“Stay calm, (Y/N). I- There- I’ll send people to you. They will come and get you. They will explain to you what this is, they know more about it than I do. I’ll call Will and tell him that you are not coming home. Penelope will ping your phone, just don’t move.”

After a few more reassuring words JJ hangs up and bolts into Hotch’s office. “Hotch, (Y/N) got infected, she rode her bike through the park and back to get medicine for Henry and I told her to stay where she is. That somebody is going to get he-”

Aaron stops her rambling by putting both hands on her shoulder. “I’ll let Doctor Kimura know. Meet them at the hospital.” “Bu-” Again he cuts the blonde off. “No buts. You always say that you are a mother first. Your family, especially your daughter, needs you now more than ever. Go and be a mother.”

Encouraged by her boss’ words she makes her way to her car, simultaneously calling Will to let him know what’s happening.

Shortly after this the small family sits in a hospital room. (Y/N) lays passed out on the bed, paler than anybody has her ever seen. JJ grasps her hand, mentally kicking herself for not calling sooner. For letting regulations destroy her family. Will holds Henry, who finally is asleep, in his arms and tries to console his girlfriend.

“You weren’t allowed to say anything. Also, I wanted to go to another park if Henry wasn’t sick. There was absolutely nothing you could have done differently.” His accent is thicker than ever.

Before she is able to respond, a nurse enters the room with an inhaler in hand. “What is this?” Ever since (Y/N) was admitted to the hospital, the mother is careful to know what they give her and what not.

“This is a cure for this strand, Doktor Reid found it in Nichol’s office. We already tested it and it’s 100% effective.” More or less convinced JJ let’s the nurse do her job, watching her every move like a hawk.

And then they wait again. And wait. And wait for the cure to kick in. For (Y/N) to open her eyes. To be able to form a sentence. A coherent sentence without being interrupted by a coughing fit.

Once JJ leaves her bed reluctantly, Will forces her to take a walk and get a coffee from the cafeteria. On her way back she visits Spencer’s room, who is already awake.

“Hey Spence”, she smiles softly at him. He stops shoving a cup of Jell-O into his mouth to smile back. “Hi. How is (Y/N) doing?” A frown quickly spreads onto her face. “Still not awake. But the doctors say she will be fine. I wanted to thank you. If you wouldn’t have put your life on the line, none of the others would be alive. Thank you, for saving my daughter”, at the end the blonde’s voice breaks. She can’t imagine a life without her oldest child. Without anyone of her family.

“Hey, it’s alright. (Y/N) is fine. I’m fine. Everybody got their own happy end. Now go back to her, I’m sure she’ll wake up in no time.” She nods and gives him a hug before going back to (Y/N)’s room. There she sits back in her seat, handing her boyfriend his own cup of coffee.

A few minutes later a small groan is heard. “Can anybody turn off the sun? It’s unbelievably bright today.” Not registering what’s really happening, the teenager finds herself in a big family hug with Henry on her chest. “Woah, did I fall asleep during our picnic or something?”

JJ smiles through her tears of relief, seeing her daughter being her confused self again. “No, I’ll explain it to you later. Get some more rest, we’ll stay with you.” “Rest, this sounds nice.” Just a few minutes later (Y/N) is asleep again.

Luckily both she and Spencer make a quick recovery and even get a “Welcome Back to the Living” Party (organized by the one and only Penelope Garcia). From this moment on JJ makes sure to warn her family one way or another. Hotch generously lets it slip, acting like he doesn’t know about it after this close of a call.

In the end the only thing that matters is that they all are back to being healthy and make up for the missed picnic.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch

[albertasunrise]

It's Yours - Chapter 1

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy 18+

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

~

Your nails dig into the strong muscles on his back as he thrusts his hips at a maddening pace, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he chases his release. It was your last night together and you weren’t going to let him go without feeling him one last time and he couldn’t leave without one final taste of you. Pulling his head back his dark, lust-blown, eyes lock with yours and he lets out a primal growl as he feels your walls start to tighten around him.

‘You going to cum for me?’ He asks, in a low tone as he angles his hips so that he’s hitting that toe-curling spot over and over.

‘Yes.’ You moan ‘Fuck.’

You cum hard, screaming his name as tears leak from the corner of your eyes and you pull him right along with you. He collapses beside you, chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath and you chuckle as you roll onto your side to look at him. You both remain silent for a short while, revelling in your post-sex bliss as the sounds of the city drift through the open window.

‘You need to quit smoking.’ You say as you place a loving kiss on his shoulder.

‘I think you may be right Hermosa.’ He replied with a breathy laugh as he turned his head to look at you 'But I don't need to start tonight.' He sniggers as he lights one and takes a long toke, blowing the smoke away from you.

‘What time is your flight tomorrow?’ You ask, smiling sadly at him.

‘A little after 12.’ He replies, turning his head back towards the textured ceiling.

‘Do you need a lift?’

‘Murphy’s driving me.’ He replies coldly, not looking at you as he speaks.

‘Right.’ You roll out of his bed and start to collect your clothes, grabbing his attention.

‘What are you doing?’ He asks, his stomach sinking at the sight of you getting ready to leave.

‘Getting dressed so I can go home.’ You state plainly as you scan the floor for your shirt ‘Isn’t that how it works? We fuck and then go our separate ways?’

‘Can you stay?’ He asks and you look at him in surprise ‘Just for tonight.’ He paused as he gave you a wounded expression ‘Please.'

‘Okay.’

You left early in the morning, taking one last glance at his sleeping form before turning to leave. You knew it was wrong of you to just go, but your heart was aching at the knowledge that he was leaving you and you had to stay behind to finish what he's started. He deserved to see this to the end. Sure he'd made mistakes but he made them for the right reasons. Sometimes you have to do bad things to catch bad people as he would say.

~

One month later…

Staring up at the departures board you see your flight listed just below Murphy’s and you glance at your partner who stood at your side, watching you curiously.

‘What Murphy?’ You grumble as you let out an exasperated huff.

‘You’re going to Texas?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because you felt like a change or because that’s where Javi is?’

‘I have family there. I have a ton of leave to take so decided to visit them.’ You lie, shrugging your shoulders ‘Since my parents died, my aunt and uncle are the only family I have left.’

Murphy looks away guiltily. You’ve fooled him. Good.

'What will you do when you get back to Miami?'

'Hold my wife and daughter.' He states as he smiles at the thought of them 'I've missed out on so much.'

'Connie loves you, Steve. She'll be overjoyed to have you back.' You say sweetly as you give him a genuine smile.

'I hope so.' He replies, giving you a slight nod.

You look at the departures board again and see that your flight's terminal is nowhere near your partners so you turn to Murphy and prepare to say goodbye.

‘It’s been a pleasure Stevo.’ You say with a smile as you hug him tightly.

‘Don’t be a stranger.’ He replies, giving your arm a friendly squeeze.

‘I won’t.’ You give him one last hug and then head your separate ways.

'Say hi to Javi for me.' He shouts over his shoulder and you can't help the smile that crosses your lips.

When you finally reach your gate, you take a seat on one of the thinly padded benches and pull out the address Javier had given you on your last night together.

‘This is where I’ll be.’ He’d told you ‘You know… If you wanted to come to see me.’

You’d chuckled at that and told him you'd consider it... Then you’d left early that morning before he’d even woken up because you hadn't wanted to face saying goodbye to him. You’d regretted that move but knew he wouldn’t have cared, you were just fucking after all.

The flight was long and you weren’t able to sleep a wink, your leg shaking nervously the entire time. They'd served the in-flight meal but you couldn't eat a bite, the smell making your stomach turn. When you heard the captain announce that you would be landing in Laredo airport you feel your pulse quicken, palms starting to sweat as your nerves got the better of you. It was late when you landed, gone 11 pm by the time you made it out of the airport and so you decide that you would find a motel for the night and drive to Javier’s father’s ranch in the morning. You rent a car at the airport and drive around the unfamiliar town until you find a semi-clean looking hotel, the vacancy sign flashing in the dim light of night.

‘That’ll be 100 dollars for the night with breakfast included.’ The lady at the desk states, passing you a key with a large wooden tag attached, 101 carved onto it.

‘Thank you.’ You reply as you give her a genuine smile ‘Is there anywhere around here that’s still open where I can get something to eat? Just had a long flight and the plane food made my stomach roll.’

‘There’s a bar down the street.’ She replies ‘Does the best nachos you’ll ever taste.’

‘Great. Thanks.’

You make your way to your room, dropping off your luggage before heading to the bar the girl had mentioned. It was painted a dark red, a neon sign flashing ‘Open’ hanging in the window and you push open the door and make your way inside. Taking a seat at the bar you raise your hand to grab the barman’s attention, smiling as he approaches you.

‘Not seen you here before.’ He says as he smiles at you and you can’t help but notice how attractive he is.

‘I’m visiting some family.’ You reply ‘I hear the Nachos here are the best around.’

‘You heard right. Can I get you an order of those?’

‘And a beer.’ You finish as you give him a genuine grin and he gives you a wink before going off to give the kitchen your order.

You let your eyes scan the bar. It’s fairly busy for a Wednesday night. Mainly men scattered around the various tables and booths, a few women in small groups giggling as they sip their cocktails and you suddenly feel lonely, but the feeling disappeared when your beer is placed down in front of you.

‘So, how come you’re here alone?’ He asks as he leans against the bar polishing a glass.

‘I only landed an hour or so ago.’ You reply as you sip at your beer ‘Noting it’s a favourite of yours yet you’re finding it bitter.’

‘And is there a boyfriend in the picture?’ He asks and you can’t help but blush.

‘There’s a guy.’ You reply, taking another sip of your bitter beer ‘But he’s not my boyfriend. Not sure what we are if I'm honest. We kinda had a -friends with benefits- situation going on but I fell for him. They never end well eh?’ You chuckle and he responds in kind.

‘Shame.’ He replies as he gives you a cheeky grin ‘Would love you take you out.’

Your nachos arrive and sure enough, they are the best you’ve ever had. You chat to the barman, learning all there is to know about Lurado. You talk for a few hours before you inevitably have to leave.

'If things with that guy don't work. Feel free to call me.' States the barman as he hands you a scrap of paper with his name and number on it.

'I will.' You reply as you suck on your bottom lip.

When you get back to your room for find yourself emptying your stomach. You put it down to being jet-lagged and decide that sleep will help but when you wake up in the morning you find yourself hugging the toilet again, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you lean against the tiled wall. You brush your teeth and head down for breakfast but every smell that greets you makes your stomach turn and you soon find yourself sprinting for the toilet again but all you can do is heave, your stomach completely empty now.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ You asked yourself as you rinse your mouth and face with water.

Then your mind starts to go over the facts. Your tastes have changed, smells are making you sick.

‘I can't be… can I?’ You ask yourself as you count back the days since your last cycle and your breath hitches.

You're two weeks late.

You practically sprint out of the motel, remembering that you’d seen a pharmacy down the road. You buy a pack of tests and make your way back to the motel, taking it a little slower as the Texas sun beats down on you. You happen to peer into a diner as you approach it and your heart stops when you see who’s sat by the window, smiling at a woman sat opposite. You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart in your throat, stomach twisting in knots as you watch him laugh at something she says whilst he strokes his thumb over her knuckles and he looks at her the way he used to look at you. A server comes to speak to the woman he’s with and he looks up and out of the window, his eyes then locking with yours. You don’t realise your crying but he can see it and his brows furrow as he tilts his head slightly. You can’t look at him a moment longer. You have bigger things to worry about and so you will your legs to move, practically sprinting down the sidewalk to get away.

‘Hermosa?’

You stop dead in your tracks but you don’t turn to face him. You’re shoulders shake as your sobs wrack your exhausted body.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asks and this makes you turn to face him.

‘Seriously?’ You spit, eyes red with tears ‘You should get back to your date Javier.’

‘Hermosa wait.’

‘Don’t you dare call me that!’ You growl ‘You don’t get to call me that. Not now.’

'You left me.' He states and you feel your anger explode.

Without another work you storm towards the motel, stopping by the front desk and asking if you’re able to extend your stay another night. You pay her and sprint back up to the room, pulling out the tests and heading into the bathroom. You're angry because he's right. You did leave him but as you look down at the box of tests in your hands you decide that this is more important right now. You need to know. So you follow the instructions and you pee on two of them, deciding that it's better to be safe than sorry and you place them facing down beside the sink, watching the minutes tick away on the clock opposite the bathroom door. You wait the five minutes it states on the box and turn to look at them, your hands shaking as you close your eyes and flip them over. Taking a deep breath you crack your eyes open and let out a sob at what you see.

Both of them are positive.

A million and one thoughts go through your head. You’re panicking as you think about what to do. Do you tell him? It’s his after all. You’d not been with anyone since he’d left. You sit there and stare at the tests, allowing your mind to think about the future. You growing round with Javier’s baby and you feel a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. What if he doesn't want it? What if he's serious with that woman? You don't want to be a homewrecker. Do you want to keep it? Are you ready to be a mum? You ponder all of these things for a long while as you stare and the two sticks of plastic in your hands. Yes. Yes, you are ready.

‘I’ll tell him.’ You say to the tiny being inside you ‘If he doesn’t want anything to do with you then that’s fine. We’ll be okay on our own.’ You pause as rest your hand on your stomach 'He's a good man your dad but he's complicated. Never one for settling down yet despite us not being an official couple he remained faithful to me for two years and I was to him.'

You shower and brush your teeth, needing to remove all evidence of your rough morning and head out a little after midday. Hopping into your rental car you pull the address out of your pocket, fingers brushing against the positive test you’d decided to bring and causing your heart to skip a beat. You sat there for a moment and imagined what they might look like. Would they have his expressive brown eyes and golden skin tone? Or would they have yours? Shaking your head you start up the car and pull out of the parking lot, following the signs for the area stated on the slip of paper on your lap. His father’s ranch is surprisingly easy to find. It sits a few miles outside of town and you feel your heart race as you make your way down the dusty drive. The house is a decent size. It's well kept with one large truck parked out front. To the left are some stables, two horses grazing in the field beside it and the nicker and whinny when they see you hop out of your car and head towards the house. You let out a shaky breath as pluck up the courage to knock on the door, your stomach doing somersaults as an older man answers and studies you for a moment before he speaks.

‘Can I help you?’ He asks, his accent much like Javier's Must be his father You think to yourself.

‘I’m looking for Javier Peña. Is her here?’ You asked, your voice shaking as you speak.

‘He’s up by the river mending fences.' The man states 'Follow that track up... You can't miss him.’ He states and you nod your thanks before getting back in your car.

'You're her aren't you?' He asks, stopping you dead 'He mentioned that he'd seen his partner from Columbia in town this morning. Also mentioned it wasn't a pleasant reunion.' You turn to look at him as he sizes you up 'He was broken when he left to fix those fences. You best not be going up there to break him more.'

'That's not my intention.' You state and he nods before heading back inside.

You get back into your car and make your way down the road you were told to follow and sure enough, you see Javier. He's adorning the same shirt he’d been wearing this morning, his signature yellow aviators tight jeans. He looks up when he hears the sound of tires on gravel and watches as you exit your car. His eyes follow you as you step towards him, gaze locked to his. He removes his shades as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing and you finally you come to a stop opposite him, your heart thundering so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asks coldly with a stoic expression.

Your mouth moves but no words leave your lips. You think long and hard for a few moments about what to say to him but decide to cut straight to the chase. You need to get it out there.

‘I’m pregnant Javier.’ You state plainly as you pull out the positive test from your pocket ‘I'm pregnant and it’s yours.’

~

Chapter 2

[cardiophileanonymous]

Late Night Errands Chapter 1

Mulder x Reader

Summary: The reader is a paralegal preparing to help defend her client on trial in a week. The stress has finally convinced her to go out and get a stethoscope to help calm her down. Little does she know a certain agent was watching her out while she was out late at night, and it makes her a prime suspect in his eyes.

Y/n= your name

Y/f/n Y/l/n= your first and last name

B/f/n= your best friend’s name

...

Y/n slammed the door shut then started to punch the sides of the steering wheel. What in the world was going through her mind? Of course this store wouldn’t have any stethoscopes! Even if it was a pharmacy. People don’t have stuff like that lying around in their homes. Not normal people, anyway. What was she gonna say to the employee when they inevitably asked why she was looking for one? “Oh, I don’t need one, I just want it for my weird-ass heartbeat kink!” Yeah, that was one conversation she didn’t want to have.

She silently stared at the moon for a few brief moments. Why couldn’t she have a normal kink like everyone else? Like feet, maybe. It still would’ve been weird, but dammit, at least she’d be able to find porn of it. The best she could find easily was cardiophilia fanfiction, and even then, it was scarce.

She snuck glances around the parking lot. Nobody in sight. So hopefully, nobody would notice the blush on her face when she brought up an hour long “asmr heartbeat” video for the sake of calming herself down.

She smiled in bliss. When a heartbeat was in the background, it was like everything melted away. She groaned in frustration when she heard a text from her friend, B/f/n.

Don’t forget we’re having lunch tomorrow! I’m taking your mind off that trial if it’s the last thing I do!

She was double pissed now that the stress of last week filled her head. She was a paralegal, and one of her clients was set to go on trial less than a week from now. It was the oddest case she’d ever seen. The case of Bill Brown.

The man had killed exactly one-hundred people in the span of less than half a year. And the details he gave were chilling. They were vivid and graphic. So, he must’ve been a sociopath or something, right? Well he was super remorseful. And upon turning himself in, that’s right, turning himself in, he sobbed for three days straight. What’s strangest was he claimed he didn’t know they happened until the memories came back to him that night.

She wouldn’t have believed it either, if he didn’t point to bodies that hadn’t been found yet. He helped officers uncover at least a quarter of his victims.

It gave everyone working in his defense a headache. Argue innocence and a false confession? He flat out admitted details the public didn’t know. Did they argue insanity? He seemed pretty fucking sane during interviews and psych evaluations. Self defense? Not in a million years.

What got at her was the genuine feeling he was innocent, and that someone, or something, could be out there. The idea of being out there in the city alone with it out and about gave her the creeps.

“Whatever,” she whispered, turning the audio up so she could return to her blissful ignorant state. Where everything melted away. Where she was actually pretty happy with a smile on her face. With that, she began to drive away.

…

All she could think about when she finished getting dressed was the trial. The trial, the trial, the trial. This was gonna be the biggest train wreck she would ever see in her career, and she had only become a paralegal a mere three years ago. She didn’t envy the defense attorneys she was working under.

Her thoughts were interrupted by three knocks at the door. Strange, she wasn’t expecting anyone today, except for B/f/n, and she was always late for everything.

She looked through the peephole to see two people in fancy clothing outside. She opened the door just a crack.

“H-hello…?”

“Y/f/n Y/l/n,” the man asked. Y/n nodded hesitantly. The man speaking held up the badge and the woman behind him did the same. “Agents Mulder and Skully, FBI. We have a few questions about your client. The one who’s set to go on trial next week.”

She turned her head to the side.

“I’m sorry, I think you might be mistaken. I-I’m not an attorney, I’m just a paralegal.”

“Oh, we’re not mistaken. That’s exactly why we wanted to talk to you.”

She looked inside her apartment real quick, then back at them.

“Okay… come on in. Just come in quickly so the cat doesn’t get out. She has a habit of running outside.”

She was internally grateful that her friend talked her into going out for lunch. She would’ve felt embarrassed if she had had to talk to these well dressed professionals in her pajamas. Skully knelt down, petting Y/n’s cat that had just walked up to the two.

“Um… would you like tea or anything? I’m about to make some for myself now.”

Skully lifted up one of her hands while she let the small animal nuzzle into her other one.

“That won’t be necessary. We plan to be out as soon as possible.”

“O-okay… um... I’m guessing you’re here to ask about Bill Brown?”

Mulder nodded.

“That’s correct.”

“I… don’t really understand. He’s set to go on trial less than a week from now. Why is the FBI getting involved? I thought this was settled, more or less.”

“We think he may be the wrong guy. We’re investigating a series of murders strikingly similar to the ones he supposedly committed a year and a half ago. We need to look at some of the previous evidence and cross examine it with the crimes happening now.”

She still seemed unconvinced.

“Why haven’t you gone to my firm? Or better yet, the police? I-I’m sure they have everything on file.”

Mulder shook his head.

“The lawyers won’t speak to us. And the police department doesn’t want to reopen the investigation when they’re so close to closing it. They don’t want to cause panic.”

She nodded. That actually wasn’t that hard a story to believe, considering the people she worked with on a daily basis. She just looked around the room.

“Okay… you might want to rethink my offer about the tea, then. And have a seat. Because this’ll take a long time.”

...

She presented them with a long list of documents. Some images, most legal papers. She pulled out the two things that were most of interest to her, a map of where the killings took place as well as a few images of supposed murder weapons.

“I’m not really sure what you’re looking for, so here's everything, I guess.”

Skully started flipping through the legal papers, reading passages of the man’s confession. Y/n’s cat slipped under Skully’s arms and laid on her lap as she continued to read. Mulder took a keen eye to the map.

“When did these murders take place?”

“Um, September 14th through February 10th, sir.”

“And he moved here the day these murders started, correct?”

“C-c-correct. You… didn’t already know this?”

“Oh I did. I just wanted to make sure you did. Encyclopedic knowledge of a case is the sign of a good paralegal, don’t you think?”

“Oh!” She let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Thanks…”

“Tell me, Y/n. What do you think happened?”

“Well, the evidence clearly shows he’s guilty, so… we are going to be arguing that he did these crimes due to mania and insanity.”

“No, Y/n. What do you really think?”

She looked down, and started to get finicky. She sat up straight.

“I think he’s innocent… and I have a theory about what happened. But… I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

Skully raised an eyebrow.

“Why haven’t you brought it up with any of the defense attorneys?”

She looked away, then back at the both of them.

“You won’t… tell anyone, right? I don’t wanna lose my job because everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

Mulder nodded expectantly.

“Of course not. Now, what did you find?”

She flipped through the papers.

“While they were at his house… they found a lot of these DVDs.” She was somewhat mumbling under her breath. When she pulled out the image she presented it to Mulder. “I’ve looked them up and they’re all from a lesser known hypnotist.”

Mulder read the bottom of the DVD covers.

“Hannah Martin?”

“...yes. I’ve tried to find those specific DVDs myself, on her website or Amazon or whatnot, but, uh, I can’t find them.”

“Why do you find these significant?”

“Um… Skully, was it? May I please have the written interview?”

She handed it to her. Now that her hands were free, Skully began to pet the cat sitting on her legs, who purred in appreciation. She cleared her throat and began to read.

“Bill said ‘I moved to start a new life, I tried to smile every day, I helped my neighbors, I listened to hypnosis videos every night before bed to make me a better person. I did my best to turn my life around… but I guess I was a monster this whole time. Last night, my memories came back to me in my dreams. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…’”

Mulder nodded.

“So you think that the hypnosis videos he watched before bed may have mind controlled or influenced him into committing these crimes overnight?”

Her face began to turn red and a wave of feeling stupid hit her.

“I’m sorry! I know that sounds insane!”

“No, not to me.” She was in awe. He was actually entertaining her insane supernatural idea? “How far have you looked into this Hanna Martin?”

“You have to pay at least five-hundred dollars for her to create a hundred and fifty custom sessions to send to you personally through DVDs. Um, the first alleged murder was one hundred and forty-nine days before the last alleged murder. That day he confessed would be day one hundred and fifty.”

Mulder seemed incredibly interested. He gazed down at the image he was holding.

“Thank you for bringing this information to my attention. Can you please scan this and make a copy for me? I want to see if I can track down these DVDs.”

“O-okay!”

She was a little excited that her idea was being entertained. And, aside from that, this agent was very cute! So he was cute and as conspiracy crazy as she was?! She smiled like a dope when she was no longer being watched, her back to the two. She began making the copy.

“Another question for you, Y/n.”

She gulped. Something about this man saying her name made her stomach drop.

“Y-yeah…?”

“Do you go out at night often?”

The feeling of her stomach dropping was now from fear.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw your car parked outside the local drugstore late last night, any reason for it?”

She swallowed, hard. She was going for ulterior motives, but she was relieved she had something to fall back on.

“I was getting my medication. Um, I can show you if you want proof?”

“There’s no need to. But midnight is fairly late to be running errands like that, don’t you think?”

She breathed in.

“I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I might as well do something productive.”

He nodded. She turned to look at him, but she couldn’t quite read his face. Was he insinuating what she thought he was? Or was this all in her head? If he thought she was involved, he was probably crazy. She just laid out all this evidence to prove her client innocent, and possibly even helped point to the real killer, yet he thought she might be the guilty one?

“Did you happen to purchase anything from this hypnotist?”

“No, I don’t have that kind of money… and besides, i-if I am right, I don’t know if I would want to get anything from her.”

“Mhm.”

Her dopey smile and blush was gone by the time she handed the copied image to Mulder.

“I’m not sure about the legality of this…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.”

She was a bit angry when they left. B/f/n was a bit confused walking in.

“What happened?”

“Ugh! The stupid FBI is involved in the case now. They wanted to see some stuff.”

She tilted her head to the side and her nose crinkled in disbelief.

“The FBI?”

“I don’t know either! Just… help me pick up these papers. Actually, don’t! I need to make sure they’re all in order before court in a few days!”

She nodded as Y/n began to put everything as they were supposed to be.

“...that guy was kind of cute.”

She sighed.

“I thought that, too. But actually, he’s a dick.”

[missscarletta7]

The Broken Crown- Chapter 1

Hello! So this is my first Peaky Blinders Fanfiction.  I own nothing, except for the few OCs I created. 

This story is also on Wattpad and FF.net under the same title if you want to read it there as well--- however be warned it is not as edited as this post and I changed the name of one of the characters because I thought it was a better fit... lol!

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

  Enjoy!

OoOoOo

"He's a ghost, he's a god, He's a man, He's a guru,

You're one microscopic cog, In his catastrophic plan

Designed and directed by his red right hand"

~Red Right Hand~

1919

She had that dream again, the one where she had to decide which door she would open. Both doors were identical in every way. Yet, she just stands in the empty room lit as if by candles; frozen in place; The weight of the decision ultimately waking her out of-

No, that wouldn't do, a dark-haired girl thought as she scratched out the words she had just written down. In a small bedroom on the second floor of number Seventeen Watery Lane, sixteen-year-old Margaret Shelby sat on her bed, or rather the bed she shared with her older sister. Dressed in the long white nightgown that had once belonged to her mother and with a pen in hand, she scribbled down more words in her brown leather-bound journal resting on her lap. The journal was gifted to her by her Aunt Polly on her most previous birthday. Upon receiving it she couldn't wait to fill its pages. She liked writing, ever since she learned how to form her words into a cohesive sentence on paper. It had been an outlet, a distraction from the "shit-hole" that was Small Heath, Birmingham.

As a child, she had the fondest memories of taking the drawings her eldest brother Arthur would sketch and would accompany his rendering with an original story. She took pride in how much he would always be so impressed and relished when he called her “his little genius". As the years passed, she believed if she could write and publish a story that was good enough, then maybe one day she could provide for her family. Give them a way out of their current situation. Not that she knew much of how dire their situation really was. To their credit, her family tried their best to shield her, as well as her youngest brother Finn, from feeling the effects of living a life in the slums. She was lucky in that way, most of the girls her age had dropped out of school and had a child of their own already.

Her thoughts of prose were soon interrupted by familiar sounds causing the pit of her stomach to sink. Even after three months of him being back, she doubted she would ever get used to it. Opposite from her bed, through the thin wall with floral green wallpaper which had been peeling off for years, muffled cries could be heard. Maggie knew exactly who it was, her brother, Tommy.

She placed her journal onto the thin cotton sheets and traveled into the hallway. Before she knew it, she was standing outside the door of her older sibling. Taking a deep breath, she decided against knocking and slowly opened the door.

"Tommy?" she whispered into his candlelit room. She could see he was awake. Lying flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Go back to bed, Mags," the second oldest Shelby ordered, but the girl hesitated.

"I thought I heard yelling," she sounded apologetic, before taking a whiff of the air. "Do you smell that?"

"I said back to your bloody bed," his harsh tone surprised her.

This time she did listen, gently she closed her brother's door and made her way back to the empty bedroom she once was in.

OoOoOo

The next day, Margaret exited the small school she attended that was located right on the edge of Small Heath with her best friend Cara Ryan by her side. The girls had played together for as long as their memories had served them. Cara was a stylish and talkative girl who stood at a height of five feet and six inches. Dazzling green eyes sparkled and her straight honey blonde hair fell upon her shoulders. Her family did better than most, the Ryan's own a dress shop that is very popular amongst the younger women, Ada, in fact, is a frequent customer of the establishment. Though the word 'customer' was a loose term, the Ryan's like most shop owners in the area were obliged to give anyone with relations to the Peaky Blinders whatever they wanted. Mrs. Ryan's and the two oldest sisters operated it, and in her spare time, Cara could often be found working in the backroom, sewing buttons and beads to fabrics. The family had a deal, in a year's time Cara would come to work for the shop full time, but until then Cara could continue her education.

"Can't believe Henrietta's having a baby," Maggie said aloud, as shorter and younger students ran past them excitedly.

"I can," Cara replied smugly. "That girl would open her legs up for any sod that gave her a second glance."

"I feel bad for her." She admitted thinking of the fifteen-year-old whose life was now forever changed.

Cara shook her head, "Don't it's her own bloody fault."

After rounding the corner, they both saw Ross Murray. A thin nineteen-year-old with dark hair standing at five feet and eleven inches, resting his back against the dull red brick wall, smoking a cigarette. Cara stopped them in their tracks and waved at the young man. "All right, Ross?!"

Maggie smiled at her friend, she liked Ross, he'd always looked out for her and Cara like they were his own sisters. They had all been in school together up until the moment Ross was kicked out for beating up another boy named Jonah Smith. In all likelihood Jonah may have had it coming. He never had the ability to let go. For example, just last year Maggie would have to constantly have to turn down his advances for over a month. Due to the reputation of her family, attention from boys was a rare occurrence. Which she didn't mind, she never really felt romantic feelings for anyone. However, Jonah took advantage of her brothers absence. One day he even cornered her when she went back to the classroom to grab the jumper she left behind. Thankfully Jonah eventually stopped, and never bothered her again.

Getting kicked out of school didn't seem to bother Ross though. Once he turned eighteen, he enlisted to help with the war effort. He completed basic training within the required three months, and according to the letters he would send her and Cara, he was held in high esteem with all of his commanding officers. Just as he was about to be shipped to France, an armistice was declared. He'd managed to find a job working at the BSA factory rather quickly, but when he came back into town Maggie could tell he had changed. He now had this mentality that made him seem as though he was ready for a battle, yet had no one to fight.

"Cara, Margaret," he acknowledged, stubbing out his cigarette on the bricks he had rested his back upon "Where are you two heading, aye?"

"Just going home," Maggie told him, readjusting the bag on her shoulder.

He came closer to them, "I'll walk with you. Birmingham hasn't been the safest place now that all these blokes with fucked up brains are back."

"Look at that Mags," Cara said happily, and he allowed her to take his arm. "The only gentleman in Small Heath"

Maggie smiled knowingly at the sight. Since Cara was ten years old, she had been smitten with the dark-haired boy. Cara would frequently turn down other offers in hopes that Ross would one day ask her to be his girl. They both hoped that it would happen soon, because in Cara's words "She wasn't getting any younger".

"Don't know what you two keep going to school for," He expressed to them, as they began to walk in the direction the girls needed to travel. "What more is there to learn?"

His comment made Maggie shrug, "It's something to do."

"Yeah, most girls our age who aren't in school are either whores or mothers." She agreed.  "Or both."

They continued chatting about their school day as they walked closer into town. The canal that ran nearby as well as the different establishments were coming into view. "Mags, is that your brother?" Ross asked, pointing to a couple of boys.

Maggie turned her head to where her friend was pointing. He was right, her younger brother Finn, was running around in front of the pharmacy with Isaiah Jesus. He must have skipped school again. "Oi!" Maggie called out angrily, and Finn froze in place "What have you been up to all day, hm?"

"Please don't tell Tommy," the ten-year-old begged.

Maggie was about to tell him off, but she was caught off guard by the arrival of a person exiting Compton's, "Ada?"

"Oh, hello." The dark-haired beauty clutched the paper parcel tighter in her hands, clearly caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her younger siblings. "Heading home then?"

Maggie nodded and Ada continued, "I'll join you." The older sister then turned to her brother "Right Finn?" The boy scowled, but nodded all the same.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Maggie told her friends, still trying to process what her sister was up to.

Cara didn't seem to mind her best friends' announcement to depart. Turning to the hazel-eyed boy she asked, "Fancy accompanying me to the confectionery?"

He looked over to the Shelby family first, "Will you three be alright by yourself?"

Ada looked amused at his worry, "We'll be fine. I doubt anyone would mess with us." He accepted her answer with a nod and led Cara to the candy shop.

As the water rushed in the cut, Ada and Maggie walked down the sidewalk arm in arm. Finn wasn't too far in front of them. He was running and jumping around like a madman. That boy always had so much energy, Maggie found herself thinking. No wonder he skipped school, the poor thing probably could not sit still.

"That Murray boy has aged well hasn't he," Ada commented, finally breaking the silence, "Have you two?"

"Ada!" The younger sister cried out in surprise.

"Just asking." She shrugged, "Jesus you're a prude"

"Everyone's a prude compared to you" she retorted, "What were you doing at the pharmacy?"

Ada didn't reply though, instead opting to purse her lips. They were almost home now; Maggie could even see Pol heading to the house, traveling towards them. She was about to wave at her aunt until she was distracted by Finn, who ran around in front of his sisters. Her heart clenched when she noticed a black metal object in his hand.

"Finn, where did you get that gun?" she questioned, yet the youngest Shelby only giggled in response. 

"Oi! Quit messing around," Ada scolded, moving forward in an attempt to take the weapon away. "You shouldn't b-"

BANG! The sisters screamed and Aunt Polly, who had witnessed the whole event transpire, rushed over from down the street. Both the girls tried to catch their breath and a shocked Finn looked like he was trying to mentally process what had just happened. 

"The hell were you thinking?!" Polly scolded, snatching the gun from his hand. "Where did you get this?!

"He nearly fucking killed me!" Ada screeched pointing to her brother.

"I-I found it on the sideboard of the shop." Finn spit out as they watched his face concave and he soon began weeping in fear. "I-I thought it was empty. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

His tears pulled on Maggie's heartstrings, but Polly wasn't having it. She pushed the sobbing boy towards Maggie ordering, "Take him home, and no more playing with guns. Next time you leave them be." 

The young boy nodded and allowed his sister to lead him back home."I didn't know Mags, I swear" he cried out again.

"I know you. You can apologize to Ada once she's feeling more forgiving" she expressed, her arms wrapped around his small shoulders.

OoOoOo

Childhood had molded her into the person she had become. Now she understood that...

Maggie internally groaned and scratched out what she had just written. No, that was definitely not good enough. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a chuckle. Her eyes were taken off the page by Ada, who was getting ready for her date with some mystery man.

"What's so funny?" the younger sister grumbled.

"You," Ada smiled as she brushed her hair in front of the small vanity mirror, "And how seriously you take yourself."

Quickly she closed her journal, wanting to change the subject "So, what was the family meeting about?" Maggie asked, not genuinely curious.

"New copper’s coming to town," Ada replied unbothered, more interested in fastening her shoe buckle.

"When I went downstairs, I caught Finn trying to listen through the door. Told him off for eavesdropping," the younger sister snickered .

"Can you believe that little tosser?" Ada said, putting on her paste earring. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He could have killed me today!"

"It was an accident, Ada." She reasoned, opening her journal once more, "Pol already told him and John off, what more can you do?"

"I can still bitch," the older sister huffed, before looking at the book in her sisters' hands. "Are you ever gonna tell me what you're writing about?" Ada asked pointedly, now completely dressed in a white fur coat that rested over her dress.

"Are you ever gonna tell me who you've been going out to see the last few months?" Maggie shot back jokingly. 

Ada responded by pantomiming the locking of her lips, which only made the younger sister smile. "Cover for me?"

"As always," The girl assured Ada before she quietly opened and closed the bedroom door.

It was about an hour later when Maggie began to hear the familiar muffled cries. Feeling hopeless as she stared at the green papered wall.

OoOoOo

The following day was mostly uneventful for Margaret. She'd gone to school and heard all about Cara's "date" with Ross. According to Cara, he was a complete "gentleman", much to the blonde's disappointment, though she still clung onto hope. 

Now she stood in the kitchen with her Aunt and sister making dinner, continuously kneading some dough until her skinny arms began to burn. Hopefully, this batch of bread would last long enough for her to enjoy. Last time she made bread her siblings had eaten it all, not saving any for her. Upon hearing the door slam, she and her aunt stopped to glance over to the door.

"Holy Shit!" The girl exclaimed, witnessing her eldest brother who was bloody and beaten, being assisted by John into a wooden chair.

"Finn, go find Tommy and tell him what happened," Polly commanded. Like a shot, Finn was running out of the room, but not before Pol hurriedly added, "And tell him we need a shit ton of more alcohol!"

Polly then immediately began to gather gauze and rods of wood to make a splint, "Margaret, start heating up water, then cut this cloth up in stripes." Nodding at the directive, the girl began to do just that.

"The fuck happened?" Ada interrogated, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"Was told some of the men found him like this outside the cinema," John explained.

"Do you know who?" Maggie heard her sister continue as she put the kettle over the flame, but Arthur remained silent.

"I'd like to know as well," An aggravated Polly chimed in.

This time Arthur did speak. “That Belfast copper,” the mustached man spit out, "I'll discuss it more once Tom gets here."

They all fell into silence, the only noise coming from Maggie who pulled out a chair to sit next to her brother, and quietly began cutting the cloth Polly left for her on the table. "Do you think this is enough?" Maggie asked her aunt after she finished.

"Should be plenty, love," Pol told her, taking one of the strips to start mending his hand.

"John, wipe the blood out of his eye," Ada told the third eldest sibling who was just watching the ladies scrabble around as they tended to Arthur.

"Since when did you give orders?" John asked incredulously.

"I'm a trained nurse." The sister stated.

Though seeing as John wasn't budging Maggie rose from her seat and began to wipe the blood herself.

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts my face," Arthur joked as Polly bandaged him up. "You're a nurse like Mags here is a writer."

His comment caused more annoyance than Maggie cared to admit. With her index finger, she pressed onto a forming bruise on his cheek with great pressure, instigating a string of curses to come out of the eldest man's mouth.

"Oops," Maggie said insincerely. This caused Arthur to look to his aunt, wondering if any reprimanding would be given to the girl, but Polly just gave her brother a 'like you weren't asking for it' look.

 "I bloody am!" The older Shelby girl whined to John.

"You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling," John corrected her.

"Not before I learnt how to stop somebody from choking," she shot back.

"I'm not bloody choking, am I?" Arthur spoke gruffly.

"You will be when I wrap this cloth around your neck." She told him as she poured hot water from the kettle into the bowl.

"Let me see him." Tommy's voice was heard as he entered the kitchen. "Well, have this" Tommy passed the bottle of rum and Arthur took a swig. Grabbing a rag, he immediately got to work tending to his brother's face.

"He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. 'National interest', he said. Something about a robbery." Arthur explained. "He said he wants us to help him"

"We don't help coppers," John said immediately, disgusted at the thought.

"He knew all about our war records. He said we're patriots like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said -" He paused a moment before continuing, "I said we'd have a family meeting and take a vote".

Everyone remained silent, and frankly, that was enough of an answer to the eldest. "Why not? We have no truck with Fenians or communist," Arthur said exasperated, before heatedly asking Tommy. "What's wrong with you?"

Tommy continued to stare back at him, before asking his aunt, "What the fuck is wrong with him lately?"

"If I knew I'd buy the cure from Compton's Chemist," Polly answered, staring at Tom who stared right back.

OoOoOo

Being alone at night was something Maggie had gotten used to now. The cries next door, however, that was something entirely different. Sighing to herself, she decided to give it another go. Once again, she rose from her bed, and ventured into the hallway. This time though she brought her journal with her. Not long she stood in front of her brother's door, allowing herself to open it. 

Again, in the candlelit room, she saw him lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, though she couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. "Still awake?" she asked.

"Can't seem to fall asleep," Tommy mumbled calmly. She took his stillness as permission to enter.

"Do you remember when I was a little girl and you used to read me books to make me fall asleep?" she asked, moving closer to the bed, "I used to love those voices you'd do for all the different characters from the picture books."

He nodded and he couldn't help the ghost of a smile while thinking of the memory. Unlike his other siblings, Maggie was the only one who would beg him to read to her. It was something they bonded over.

"If you want," she continued, motioning her hand to hold the journal up. "I can read you my story." Tommy was silent as he looked at the journal for a moment, before Maggie added, "I just thought maybe I could try to help you sleep like you did for me."

"Only if you do voices" he stressed jokingly, then shifted his body to make room for her on the small mattress.

"Remember," she squished next to him leaning her back against his bed frame. "This is a work in progress."

"I won't judge you too harshly" he replied, watching her open the journal that lay on her lap.

"Long ago when she was young, she believed that what she saw in her dreams could be a vision of what was to come. It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of-"

"A what?" He interrupted.

"An amalgamation" she repeated. "Do you not know what an amalgamation means?"

"No, I do. Didn't think you did."

"Shut up. You're supposed to allow my words to lull you to sleep."

"Sorry, please continue"

"It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of all her childhood aspirations, fears, and perhaps a little  too much whiskey. With this knowledge she found herself yearning for-"

By this point, Tommy had closed his eyes and was half-listening to the words his sister read from her journal. It wasn't half bad what she wrote. He reckoned by the time she was his age she'd actually make something of herself all with those stories in her head. Perhaps make a career out of it, possibly even get out of Small Heath. It was to be the start of a new decade, a new time, who knows what would happen? When he finally made it back from France, her face was the first face that caught his attention on the station platform. It shocked him. No more was the little girl he would read stories to, but in her place stood a smiling young woman. She had changed so much during the time he was gone.

Come to think of it, they'd all changed. Arthur was head of the family, in charge of the business, and had done a decent job of it. But that was before France, he was different now. He quickly noticed the change in his brother and how he couldn't think straight anymore. Arthur's personality became more explosive, as well as violent. John, well he had become more reckless, especially after a few drinks got into him, and since Martha's passing the drinking had only increased. 

As for him, well he was the one who had changed the most. He used to be carefree, joke and laugh, but now he was more solemn and even more protective of his family. Constantly worrying about how Arthur couldn't handle the business anymore, how John couldn't be alone anymore, and him? Well, he couldn't stand to see his family scrape and scrounge in the slums of Small Heath in order to survive any longer. No, not anymore. New copper sniffing about or not. No matter what Polly said, Tommy saw an opportunity with these guns. He wasn't about to turn it down. He just had to play it smart. As Maggie continued her reading, Tommy could feel himself slowly begin to drift out of consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.

[mycomfortblanket]

Also 10 “who are you?” Ship of your choice.

This started getting a lil long. I went with Tokka cause I’m starting to ship them more than I should. 

Sokka couldn't help but drag his eyes up and down Toph’s body as she walked out of the bathroom and to her room, shutting the door behind her. Her body had been barely covered by a towel and her skin was still slick with the water from the shower. Her hair was piled up on her head still dry, but the hairs at the nape of her neck curled from the steam of the shower. So this was his sister's new roommate. 

Katara hadn't told him much about her except her name and the fact that she was unusually blunt and sometimes rude. Occasionally she would mention something funny the girl said or an argument they got into, but he hadn't paid much attention. Until now. 

“Sokka!” Katara said, snapping her fingers a few times in front of his face, trying to get his attention. 

Swallowing hard, he tore his eyes away from the door she had just disappeared behind, “What?”

Katara raised an eyebrow at him and had a knowing smirk on her face, “Could you be any more obvious?” 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he mumbles and goes back to writing notes from his textbook. Katara is just about to make another retort when her phone starts ringing. Her face lights up when she sees Zukka contact photo on the screen and she hurriedly stands up, scoops the phone into her hand and walks to her bedroom and closes the door. 

A few moments later, Toph's bedroom door opens and she walks out in sweatpants and a cami that stretches tight against her small chest. Sokka had just meant to glance up and immediately go back to work but, of course, he isn't able to look away. 

He watches as her fingers dance from surface to surface as she makes her way into the kitchen and opens the fridge. She bends over and her fingers brush against a few items before she snatched a to-go container from the middle shelf and shuts the fridge with her hip. Moving over to the microwave, she opens the lid and begins to move the containers contents around before placing inside the microwave and starting it. 

His eyes track her every movement, and even as she just stands there waiting for the microwave, he can't move his eyes from hers. When it finally dings, she grabs a fork from a drawer and leans against the counter to eat. 

The sharp intake of breath he does when he just barely catches a glimpse of her eyes, is what alerts her to his presence. The milky white film over her grey took him by surprise. The ease that she had moved through the kitchen, he never would have guessed that she is blind. Her eyes glance up as she's lifting the fork to her mouth again.

“Who are you?” She asks nonchalantly, as if finding a random person in her apartment doesn't bother her a bit. 

“Sokka, Katara’s brother,” he says, his voice surprisingly calm and casual. 

“Oh yeah, she's told me a lot about you. Also told me you're quite the womanizer,” she says, her eyebrow cocked at him. Katara was right, this girl is blunt. 

“That's not what I said, Toph!” Katara says, coming back into the kitchen. “I said he's had a few girlfriends in the past.” 

“Right. I may be blind, but I can see through that bullshit. From the sound of voice alone, I already know he pulls a lot of girls,” Sokka sputters a little but she cuts him off, “Nothing wrong with it, just calling it like it is.”

“You’re so rude sometimes,” Katara says to which Toph just shrugs. She turns to Sokka, “I have to go run something over to Zuko, he’s come down with something and needs me to pick up his medicine from the pharmacy, will you be okay here for a bit?” Sokka glances over her shoulder at Toph who is stirring the contents of her to-go containers before looking back at her and just shrugs. 

Once Katara closes the door, Toph still stands in her spot, her food on the counter next to her forgotten. Her arms are crossed over her chest and he can tell she is waiting for him to say something, but he isn’t sure what, “What?”

“Try one of your moves on me.” 

This really catches him off guard. Normally, he would be all over this challenge, excited to get another girl to fall for his charm, but something about her seems like it could easily backfire. 

“I don’t think you want that,” he says, hoping that’s the end of it. 

“Nonsense. I want to see what you’re made of. Pretend I’m some hot babe you met at a bar and you just need to seal the deal or whatever”

Sighing, he stands up from the table and walks over to the fridge and grabs a water. He leans against the counter next a few inches away from her but could easily brush against her bare shoulder if he shifted just slightly. 

“You really want me to do this?” 

“Oh, absolutely.”

Send me a prompt!

[onlysarah235678]

A Little Bit Part 7

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: This was supposed to be one-shot when I started, but here’s part 7 and we’re probably a little more than halfway to the finish line? Not quite sure, but here it is. There’s less angst in this one, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Thank you to the lovely illuminated-blue for the beautiful gif. :)

Warnings: angst, kittens and a little bit of steaminess?

Returning to work on Tuesday had been a little weird for you. Not only were you reminded that everyone you worked with probably knew that you were dating Billie Dean, but you weren’t able to shake what Billie had told you about your dad.

It was a little unsettling to think about how he hadn’t moved on yet. It was also upsetting because you wanted your dad to find peace, but knowing that you were the reason why this wasn’t happening made you feel guilty. You hadn’t gathered the courage to talk to Billie more about him despite talking to her daily, and you just couldn’t shake the anxiousness and disappointment you felt while at work.

It was Thursday morning and you’d already had to tell reception twice to just hang up on any reporters who called. It was getting to be a lot and you had no idea why people wanted to talk to you so badly. You didn’t have anything to say, and you would have thought they’d take the hint by now.

Unfortunately, this was not the case, and you had to dodge Erin’s questions while trying not to notice how she was scouring the tabloids for information about you and Billie. It was distracting to say the least, so you were grateful that your busy schedule and other worries kept you preoccupied.

After finishing your last appointment before lunch, a final puppy visit that was mostly just fawning over a cute dog, you retreat to your office for a break. You have a few records to finish that you didn’t get to this morning, but you check your phone first to see if Billie texted you back. She’d been worried this morning when Mickey had been stumbling a lot when she woke up. He’d been struggling to walk and she’d called you to ask for your opinion. Given that she had an appointment scheduled for them all tomorrow, you told her to watch him and keep you updated.

She’d sent you a video, and as you watch it you get a little more concerned. At almost 4 weeks old they were moving around more, but still not really walking. The others in Bit’s litter were more active than Mickey, which wasn’t a surprise, but it seemed like Mickey had slowed down a little which wasn’t good.

You check your schedule for this afternoon before realizing that you didn’t really have time to see him today. You’re afraid that its related to his fall but you decide that it can wait until tomorrow unless he gets worse. You put your phone down after you send the message and get to work on records while you have some time.

It’s about 15 minutes later when Billie sends you another video of Mickey that changes your mind. You make sure that someone will be available and willing to help you before you tell Billie to have Heather bring them in. May as well see them all today if Heather has to bring Mickey.

“Hey Erin, are you in the mood to see kittens?”

The brunette turns toward you, holding half of a sandwich as she shoots you a questioning look.

“What kind of kittens?”

You smile before mentioning that they are Billie’s and you watch as Erin shoves the rest of her sandwich in her mouth somehow before jumping up. She runs to get ready and you just roll your eyes before telling her that you’ll be in pharmacy. You need to attach those videos to Mickey’s record anyway.

20 minutes later you are still sitting in pharmacy approving prescription requests when Erin returns. She seems more excited than you think she’d be, but you don’t get to ask before she’s practically squealing.

“You didn’t say that it would be her today!”

You’re a little confused but it only takes the sound of a familiar voice for you to understand Erin’s excitement.

“Hi, I’m here to see Dr. Y/L/N.”

A couple of minutes later, Billie was in an exam room with you and Erin trying to wrangle all of the kittens. You were mostly focused on Mickey at least for the time being as you set him down on the table and tried to get him to walk.

“Did you work from home today?”

You ask this as you examine Mickey, so you miss Billie’s brief glance to Erin who’s getting weights on the other six cats in the room. She eventually nods before deciding to go with an easy answer.

“After how he was acting this morning, I just didn’t feel like I should leave him. I’ll pay for that tomorrow though.”

You smile sympathetically as you meet her gaze before looking back to Mickey who mewls when you press on one of his legs.

“Sorry. Not your idea of a good time?”

You don’t mean it to come off as flirting, but Billie’s look indicates that she definitely took it that way. You miss the look though since you’re busy focusing on Mickey’s little legs, but Erin notices. She’d looked up in surprise at your words and immediately turned to Billie Dean to see how she reacts. She has to tamp down the urge to smile widely at the look on the medium’s face.

You were in for it later.

Instead of saying anything like this; however, Billie just shrugs before shaking her head. You are only half listening because you’re almost certain you figured out what’s going on with Mickey.

“Not quite.”

Billie watches as you nod before frowning slightly as you scratch Mickey’s ears a little. You ask a few questions about how the kittens act at home. You wonder if they rough house at all or if Bit is rough with them. Specifically Mickey. Billie says that she hasn’t noticed any of this behavior, but that Mickey occasionally found his way at the bottom of a kitten pile.

You decide that since Mickey is back spending most of his time with his siblings that they just need to keep a closer eye on him. You mention that he may have hurt his leg a little from something that happened at home. It wasn’t serious enough for x-rays but that he should be monitored for the next few days. Additionally, you were going to send home some pain medication that he’d take for the next few days. You asked Erin to go grab it while you dewormed all of the kittens. They were still too young for vaccines, but they’d come back in a couple of weeks for those.

You were glad that Billie had gotten them all colored collars because trying to keep track of which kitten was which was a pain in the ass. The only one who could easily be identified was Mickey because he was still the smallest and he had a little kink in his tail at the end.

You broke up the little tablet of dewormer and covered it in baby food for Mickey. While Mickey ate you look to Billie again with a frown.

“I’m sorry your day has been so stressful.”

Billie just sighed before taking Mickey once he was finished with his dewormer. He seemed really hungry and you’d ask about that in a second, but for now you just took a second to admire the sight of Billie Dean holding him. You watched as Mickey tried to bite one of the rings on Billie’s finger before her voice brought your attention back to her.

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault. You’re the only thing so far that’s made it any better.”

You smile at this while reaching down for the next kitten to hide your blush. You hear the door open behind you and you know that Erin’s back with Mickey’s meds so any more flirting will have to wait until later.

“Glad to hear it.”  

Once all of the kittens were dewormed and you went over how to give Mickey the medication it was just you and Billie again. Erin had reminded you that Milo still hadn’t gone out since lunch started, and luckily, she volunteered to let him out so you could keep talking to Billie.

You went over a lot of kitten things that were just around the corner, if not already happening. You mentioned how they would transition to solid food soon and how she would need to use formula for this. Most of this you wrote down so Billie could reference it later. This was a lot of information that you didn’t really expect anyone to remember.

You are distracted during your conversation about litter when you see Milo out running in the yard. He looks around before coming right up to the window. He jumps on it once before he sits and just stares at you. You are grateful that someone outside throws a tennis ball and Milo goes running off. You finish going over the important points for using litter with the kittens.

You straighten the sheets of paper you’d written on before handing them to Billie. You realize how much you’d talked and you apologize while watching Billie fold them neatly and place them in her purse.

“I’m sorry. That was a lot I just threw at you.”

Billie laughs before shaking her head. She looks to Bit who is still wandering around the room while everyone else is already back in their carrier. You go to grab her, but she hisses at you and runs away. You sigh as Billie rolls her eyes at her no-good cat.

“Don’t be. It’s going to be a huge help.”

You smile as you nod and finally manage to wrangle Bit into the carrier. You’re now on Billie’s side of the room, but you don’t hurry back as you stand up straight and take this chance to really look at Billie.

You knew by now that the woman always looked good, but there were some outfits that you liked on her more than others. Not that you didn’t appreciate them all. Today, Billie was wearing more casual clothing probably because she had just been at home, and you were finding it hard not to reach out and touch.

It was almost as if Billie had read your mind because she smiled before reaching out for you. She stopped short before she let her fingers slide along the fabric of your coat. Her smile turned into a smirk as she met your gaze with a teasing look.

“You really do look good in this.”

You breathe out a laugh before shooting back an equally teasing look. Unfortunately, you aren’t as good at this as Billie. Not that you’re surprised.

“Yeah? I almost forgot how you liked a woman in uniform.”

Billie just chuckles under her breath before she shakes her head. You’re not sure what she disagrees with, but she doesn’t make you wait long to find out.

“Not as much as I’d like to see her out of it.”

You blush so hard Billie can practically feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks. You lean back a little but don’t move too far as you laugh at your own stupidity. You run a hand through your hair before smiling back at the grinning medium.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

Billie just laughs before nodding in agreement. You definitely had. Not that she was complaining. She loved flirting with you and seeing you blush. It just made her go a little crazy seeing it without being able to respond the way she wanted to. Each time she saw your face flush, it just made her want to see what else she could do to make that happen.

Instead, since they are standing in the building that you work in, and not at either of their homes, Billie just sighs and moves away from you.

Or at least she tries to.

She drops her hands from your coat only to have you reach out for her. Your hands go to her hip and to play with her hair as you shoot her a smile.

“Just one? A quick one.”

Billie only has to smile for you to get the point, and you’re quick to kiss her. You pull her closer before groaning as the medium bites you bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue. You don’t resist as she grabs you again and backs you up into the wall. You let Billie take the lead as she slides her tongue past your lips and into your mouth. Your grip on her hip tightens and you moan as Billie’s tongue meets yours. She kisses you like you’ll be caught any minute, and you’d worry about that if you could focus on anything other than Billie Dean.

Billie Dean’s mouth against yours. Her hand fisting the fabric of your coat. The smell of her familiar intoxicating perfume.

All of this and the fact you’re still at work, technically on the clock makes the heat in the pit of your stomach flare and you kiss her harder.

You’re panting by the time Billie pulls away from you, and you don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed or annoyed by her smug smirk. Instead you just lean against the wall staring at her with wide, dazed eyes. Billie merely smooths the lapels of your coat absentmindedly as she shoots you a look that makes you want to give it all up.

You’re not exactly sure what that means, but you know in that moment that if Billie asked you to do it, you would. Without hesitation.

“Was that one?”

You don’t really register the question because your body is still trying to recover. You take a deep breath before blinking a few times to try and ground yourself. When your brain finally processes the words, it still takes your mouth a couple of seconds to form a response. You nod before attempting to stand up straight. You don’t really manage it.

“Yeah. I guess.”

Billie smiles unable to hide how her effect on you makes her feel. She’s always been the one to initiate things in her relationships because she loves to watch people squirm.  Having you respond so well to her made Billie want to do all sorts of things to you, and she would. Just not here.

She moves back toward you, reaching out, but not touching you. Instead, she plants her hands against the wall on either side of your head as she meets your slightly bewildered gaze.

“So we’re done then?”

You don’t respond immediately, but all you can think about is how you really don’t want to be done. You have maybe a half hour left of lunch before you have appointments. You couldn’t care less about that right now though and you shake your head before you’ve really thought it through.

“Maybe one more.”

Billie smirks at you. One of her hands moves to brush against your cheek and you can’t help how you lean into it slightly. She definitely notices and leans back in to kiss you again.

“Good girl.”

You feel your heart jump in your chest and your breath hitch as Billie’s words hit your ears. Your head swims and you may groan as you let Billie pull you against her. Suddenly nothing seemed to matter. Remembering to breathe wasn’t important to you in that moment. Not compared to doing exactly what Billie told you to. You felt a chill run up your spine when Billie’s hands snuck under your shirt.

You gasp into her mouth before she breaks away to kiss down your neck. You would be embarrassed by the whine that leaves you if you weren’t so turned on. You crave Billie’s touch and just knowing that it was so close, but that it wouldn’t go further while you were here was torture.

You might hear Milo bark from outside, but you aren’t sure. You don’t dare move away to check and instead you hiss under your breath as Billie’s fingernails drag across sensitive skin.

“Oh fuck.”

Suddenly Billie’s hands are gone and her lips are no longer on your neck. You almost fall you’re so unsteady as Billie moves away from you without warning. You frown until you hear a knock on the door a moment later. You don’t have time to wonder how Billie had heard them before the door’s opening.

You’re equally disappointed and relieved that Billie managed to be on the other side of the room by the time Erin stuck her head inside.

"Dr. Y/L/N. You have a phone call from the emergency hospital.”

You nod before thanking Erin and telling her you’ll be right there. You suppose it’s for the best, but you can’t help but loathe whoever it is who decided to call you right now. You sigh as you look to Billie who’s moving toward you with a smile. She reaches out to straighten your hair before biting her lip to hold back a laugh.

“Duty calls?”

You nod before looking to the carrier full of cats that you’d completely forgotten about. You take a deep breath before closing your eyes. You need to calm down and get back to work. This must be why no one has make out sessions at work. It completely ruins your concentration.

“Looks like it. You’ll let me know if you have any questions?”

Billie Dean nodded before she leaned over to grab the carrier. Bit meowed while the kittens snored away and you smiled as Billie reached for the doorknob on the other side of the room.

“Of course. Thank you for seeing us so last minute.”

You smile before holding the door open for Billie so she could use both hands to get the carrier through without hitting the door frame.

“I’ll talk to you later then.”

Billie nodded before she promised to call you tonight. You lean in quickly to plant a brief kiss on her lips before waving goodbye to the kittens.

“See you next time, kittens.”

Billie looks like she wants to say something but instead she just nods before taking a couple of steps away. She turns to leave and you do too before Billie’s voice draws your attention back to her.

“Oh and Dr. Y/L/N?”

You ignore how her saying your name like that makes you feel as you shoot her a smile. “Yes, Ms. Howard?”

She smiles widely at this but doesn’t comment as she looks around her briefly before speaking.

“Make sure to wear your hair down for the rest of the day.”  

Billie only has time to see you reach for your neck before she’s heading for the front desk. She has a feeling she’ll pay for that later, but she’s hoping it will be worth it. She loves having something to look forward to.

Erin had been working as an assistant for a few years. Since graduating from undergrad and wanting to gain experience before applying to veterinary school, she’s enjoyed most every minute that she’d worked at this hospital.

She’d seen a lot of assistants come and go, some she liked, some she didn’t. The doctors were all the same since she started except for the newest addition to the team. You had joined right after the hospital had finished construction to add more exam rooms. It was one of the larger practices around and they saw close to 50,000 clients, so they were always busy. There was never a dull moment, so Erin had learned to take advantage of the scant down time that she had at work.

She had finished putting in the charges for you and now she was just waiting around in pharmacy. A couple other assistants were sitting outside for lunch and had offered to watch Milo, so Erin didn’t have anything to do. She doubted that you needed anything else, but she wanted to be around in case you did, so she sat at the computer closest to where you were still talking to Billie about the kittens.

At least that’s what she thought you were talking about.

At some point she hears something that could definitely be considered flirting and Erin blushes slightly. She hadn’t gotten confirmation from you about your relationship with Billie Dean, but no confirmation was confirmation enough honestly. She’d read a few things written by reporters who speculated wildly despite only have minimal evidence.

Erin didn’t really care either way, well that wasn’t true. She would be thrilled because she was a huge fan of Billie’s but it wouldn’t really change anything for her. She might ask for an autograph but other than that she wouldn’t do anything different. She liked working with you and even though she was pretty sure you were making out with Billie Dean Howard behind closed doors, she didn’t see this changing.

Erin was relieved when the phone rang and she hurried to answer it. She wasn’t as excited about having to interrupt whatever it was you were doing, but the emergency hospital had a question about a mutual patient. When you finally came to pick up the phone, you were a little more put together than when she’d come knocking. Erin pretended not to notice and decided to go check on Milo.

Milo’s head turned at the sound of the door opening and another person coming outside. He ran over to her, tennis ball in his mouth before sitting down with a whine. He dropped it in front of her expecting her to pick it up and throw it again. Luckily for him, Erin did and he took off across the yard for it.

Erin sighed as she sat down next to the other two assistants who weren’t her favorite. She got along with them fine, but they had different views and opinions on certain people that made being anything other than  coworkers unlikely.

“How was the famous Billie Dean?”

Erin looked back toward Milo so they wouldn’t see her roll her eyes as she shrugged. She mentioned how the appointment was pretty standard. The only thing out of the norm was Mickey being a little lame. Erin didn’t notice either of them nod or exchange a look as she threw the ball again for Milo. He took off, nearly falling in his rush to follow the ball, and Erin had to stifle a laugh as he tripped up.

“Did you get an autograph? I’m sure Dr. Y/L/N wouldn’t mind.”

At this Erin turns to the pair so they can see her glare and her huff of annoyance. They weren’t exactly subtle with their jealousy, but she didn’t want to get in the middle of that.

“No, that would have been weird.”

Neither of them gets a chance to respond to this before one of the kennel staff comes out and says that they need to walk a dog aggressive-dog. Erin takes that as her opportunity to leave, and she calls Milo over before taking him back inside. She doesn’t look back as she leads the shepherd into the building and back to his kennel. Afternoon appointments were going to start showing up any minute.

It’s almost 6:30 when Erin has to talk to either of those assistants again. She needed help getting samples on a cat at the end of the day. It’s actually past closing time, but this cat is sick and Dr. Hahn wanted bloodwork on it. It’s a very angry cat and it takes three assistants to restrain it and draw blood.

You are finished working for today and on your way downstairs when you hear the angry yowl. You decide to go around treatment to get to Milo and not get in the middle of whatever is going on.  You grab Milo and sneak out to the parking lot. It’s dark already and you sigh as you buckle Milo in the back seat and get in. You stifle a yawn as you start the drive home, but you only make it half way there before your phone dings. You ignore it for now because it’s just a text message, and you still suck at driving in LA.

You make it home and take Milo on a quick walk before heading upstairs. You drop your things by the door, not caring about the mess before you head to the kitchen for dinner. Milo’s already fed so you let him go off on his own for a while as you figure out what to eat.

You pull your phone out of your pocket before looking at the message Billie sent. Of course it was Billie. You’re smiling before you can stop yourself, and it only grows when you see it’s a picture of Mickey. His body is scrunched up and he’s got the most disgusted look on his face.

He doesn’t like his medicine.

You laugh as you respond while trying to pull things out of the fridge. You nearly drop something, but you catch it last minute before you place it all on the counter. Milo appears behind you and you nearly trip on him as you turn suddenly to grab a pan.

“Jeez, Milo watch out!”

Your dog just pants happily as he follows you around while you cook. You ignore him for the most part as he eventually sits down while you stand at the stove. You yawn again before jumping at the sound of your phone buzzing again. It nearly falls off the counter, but you grab it just in time to see another couple of messages from Billie.

How was the rest of your day?

I hope you kept your hair down

Just like that you felt your face flush. You cursed Billie’s ability to have this effect on you when she wasn’t even here as you sighed in defeat. Surprisingly you’d managed to focus for the rest of the day on work and not think about what you and Billie had done earlier today. Of course now that you were home alone you could easily feel yourself getting hot just thinking about it.

You shake your head before you drop food on the ground without realizing it. You’re glad that it’s not something toxic to Milo because he dives for it before you even turn to see what it was. You just sigh before going back to your food and trying not to think too much into this.

I think I did, not that it mattered. Erin definitely knows what happened.

Billie looked at this message, laughing as she pictured the look on the assistant’s face as she came into the exam room. She definitely had.

Billie lights another cigarette as she thinks about how to respond to this. She honestly didn’t care if anyone knew about them at this point. With all of the stories in the tabloids, what was really the point of hiding it? Maybe you weren’t ready to go public. She’d understand that and wait as long as you needed. However, if you were okay with telling people, maybe they should do that sooner rather than later.

That didn’t mean that they should make out at your work again though.

Billie decided to bring this up the next time she saw you. Considering the fact that she didn’t get a lot of work done today, she wasn’t sure if she’d have time to see you tomorrow. She’d like to because well to be honest the tension between the two of you was driving her up the wall. She took a drag before deciding that she was going to make it work. It was going to be Friday after all. She was going to work hard and then have some time to relax. If you were available and willing of course.

Once you’re finished making your dinner you call Billie to check on Mickey. Also to just talk to her, but Mickey’s a good excuse. For some reason you feel like you needed one.

“So you never told me how the rest of your day was.”

You smile as you tell her about how it wasn’t that eventful. You didn’t get home until just now and you were exhausted. You had to work tomorrow and this weekend and you were really not looking forward to it. Mostly because you wanted to spend more time with Milo and Billie, but you weren’t going to say that now.

“How about you? Did you manage to get anything done, or were you worried about Mickey?”

Billie Dean sighs as she puts out her cigarette. She hears Bit coming down the stairs and has a feeling she needs to go check on the kittens. She stands up and starts to walk up the stairs as she replies with a shake of her head.

“No, unfortunately. I tried to, but he kept distracting me. He seems to be better though.”

You smile at this news as you shoot Milo a warning look. He can’t get on the couch while you’re eating or else he will be the one eating and you’ll be tackling him to the ground to get your fork out of his mouth. He’s eaten far too many plastic utensils for you to be lenient with him now.  

“That’s good at least. Are you going to check on them now?”

You could hear the sound of Billie’s heels on the stairs, but you were only really guessing. She smiled as she reached the top and headed toward the laundry room. She heard quiet mewls and arrived to see a pile of kittens wiggling around in their bed.

“Yes, Bit just came downstairs and Mickey’s at the bottom of the pile. Dammit.”

You try not to laugh because this is a bad thing, but hearing Billie curse and sigh in annoyance as she probably moves to rescue Mickey is something you wish you could see. You wait patiently as you hear little mewls and chitters from the kittens as they’re disturbed. You take this opportunity to finish eating and you put the phone on the table in front of you with another yawn.

“Are you tired?”

You start slightly wondering how Billie heard you before shaking your head. You realize she can’t see you and you hurry to pick up your phone, abandoning your plate on the table. Milo looks to it, but you don’t notice as you respond to Billie.

“A little. It was a long day.”

Billie hums in acknowledgement as she grabs Mickey and takes him back downstairs just as Bit is returning. She shoots her a glare muttering a dirty word under her breath before leaving the laundry room. She hears you laugh, but decided to go back to what you were talking about.

“It wasn’t all bad though?”

Billie had only really been asking about after she left. She was genuinely curious about your day, but when she hears you laugh, she realized what her question sounded like.

“Not at all. I had a very nice lunch.”

You lean back against the couch again and look up at the ceiling as you consider what you’re doing. You’re sure that if you don’t have Billie’s hands on you again soon you’ll go crazy. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, but as quietly as you can.

“Is that right?”

You have to resist the urge to smile as you hear Billie’s teasing voice come through the phone. You can’t for the life of you remember what you ate for lunch, but that wasn’t the nice part of it and you both know it.

“Definitely, but then someone came in with her kittens and interrupted it.”

You bite your lip to stop from laughing. You can practically see the look of astonishment on Billie’s face and you can’t wait to see it in person. You hear Billie take a deep breath, maybe she’s smoking, you can’t tell before she speaks.

“Be careful, Y/N. You don’t want to say something you’ll regret.”

You can only smile because despite the chill that runs up your spine, it’s much less intimidating to be on the phone with Billie talking like this. If she was in front of you, you were convinced you’d already be on your knees. You try not to think about that too much before you simply try your luck. You’re feeling a little braver than usual, and it shows when you chuckle under your breath instead of apologizing immediately.

“Is that right?”

You mimic her words feeling a rush of adrenaline wash over you as you open your eyes again. You don’t have to wait but for a second before Billie’s laughing as well, but it’s not teasing like yours. It sounds more threatening and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t making you shiver in the best of ways.

“Just wait until I get my hands on you again. You won’t be laughing then, sweetheart.”

You suck in a breath as you sit up suddenly. You shift in your seat as you prepare to respond, but you stop cold when the sight in front of you registers.

“No! Bad Milo! Drop it!”

Milo was trying to sneak the rest of your dinner while you weren’t paying attention, but you don’t realize it until he’s hovering over your plate. You reach out for it only for him to get there first and knock it off the table in his rush to get the food. The plate crashes to the ground spilling food all over the place and you yell again when Milo just runs off with whatever he managed to get.

“Milo! You little shit!”

You groan as you look to the mess that he left before getting on your knees to clean it up. You are reaching for the plate when you hear Billie’s voice from somewhere. Where did your phone go?

“Is everything okay, Y/N? What’s going on?”

You sigh as you reach in between the couch cushions for your phone before putting it to your ear with a huff of annoyance.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Milo just stole food and made a mess.”

You start to clean again, your phone pressed between your ear and shoulder. You decide to try and pretend like the interruption didn’t happen as you speak up with a smile.

“That sounds like an invitation by the way.”

Billie’s laughing at your persistence or rather your dedication to getting what you want. What you both want. She reaches for her drink since she can’t smoke right now and takes a long sip to buy time. Or increase the tension. She’s honestly not sure which any more.

“It was, if you’re interested.”

You nearly laugh but instead just drop what’s in your hands on the table in front of you before grabbing your phone. You’ll deal with Milo and his mess later. For now, you have plans to make.

“Always. Your place or mine?”

Part 8

[duchesschameleon]

what if - chapter 4

summary: a long lost letter leads to an adventure in Italy for three people who find love and healing along the way. a letters to juliet au

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 1841 a/n: alright, getting into some of the meat of the story! this one is longer and the original chapter 4 was so long I broke it up so now there is a planned nine chapters for this fic. chapter 5 is written and will be queued up for sunday’s post, but as my parents are visiting, chapter 6 might be delayed. I’ll try my best not to but no promises. a huge thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo​ for the beta!

what if masterlist

The next day, there’s less tension between you and Aaron. He’s more amenable to talking to you and even smiles at you in the rearview mirror of the car. There’s a smile on your face as you write in your notebook, keeping track of the Carolyn’s you visit and adding to your story. The radio’s on and once Dave had found a station he liked, he forbade Aaron from changing it. Not that he’s listening to the music. He talks over the music, filling the car with stories from his summer spent with Carolyn, the afternoons they spent together in the fields and the nights spent walking through the trees in the moonlight.

You smile wistfully as you listen to the adventures - and troubles - Dave and Carolyn had gotten into. Aaron even quirks his lips in a ghost of a smile. It’s a small thing, something you would have missed a few days ago but now find yourself noticing it. Even catching his eyes a few times in the rearview mirror.

So far, the Carolyn’s are proving to be a bust, no one Dave recognizes. The map you’d marked up with all their locations is spread out on the hood of the car and you and Aaron are leaning over it, trying to agree on where to go next.

“That one’s isolated! If we go there, we’re done for the day,” you argue.

“Exactly. One more for the day and then back to the hotel,” Aaron says, crossing his arms over his chest. You shake your head at him, trying to avoid looking at his forearms. The bands of muscles spanning his forearms are flexed and on display in his polo shirt, they keep catching your eye and you just turn back to the map.

“It’s early afternoon. We cannot just visit one more Carolyn, even with driving time that’s leaving too much on the table.”

“We’ll get those two tomorrow morning, they head out towards some of the others,” Aaron points out. You scrunch your eyebrows, bending closer to the map.

Shit, he’s right. You sigh and stand up. “Fine, we’ll do one more today.” Aaron just quirks his lips into one of his smiles,  and you huff out a breath and fold up the map. Dave chuckles as he watches the two of you, Aaron smirking as he puts his sunglasses back on and you grumbling.

Choosing to visit only one more Carolyn Bartolini turns out to be a smart idea for many reasons. The one on the way back to Siena takes a bit to find. Since it turns out to not be a simple house, but a whole estate. There’s a winding drive to the large house that is surrounded by land, hosting gardens and crops.

“Look at that, Dave,” Aaron says, looking around as he drives down towards the house, “you may have gone from a girl who worked in the fields to a woman who owns them. And you got to skip all the messy bits in the middle.”

“Life is the messy bits,” Dave scoffs, hitting Aaron on the shoulder. Aaron clears his throat, looking a little sheepish and you smile softly, silently agreeing with Dave. The messy bits, the adventures, they made life interesting. You look out the window, heart squeezing with the missing presence of your partner.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as the car turns off, shaking your head and taking a steadying breath. You and Aaron trail behind Dave, letting him do the talking. The person who answers the door beckons the three of you inside, leading you towards the garden and Carolyn. The garden is lush and gorgeous, filled with flowers and perfectly trimmed hedges. You walk along the hedges, letting Dave and Carolyn talk. You can overhear their conversation, talking about that summer Dave spent in Italy and Carolyn answering his questions, but you can tell that this isn’t the right Carolyn. Her answers aren’t right, not specific enough, and you can hear the disappointment seeping into Dave’s voice. But Carolyn keeps talking and responding, obviously trying to impress Dave.

You make your way back towards where Aaron is standing and cross your arms over your chest. Dave’s words from the car are still rattling around in your head and pulling your thoughts towards your partner, the messy bits of life you’d shared and the adventures you’d promised to share. You turn your attention to where Carolyn is fawning over a melancholy looking Dave, trying to impress him. It's not an unfamiliar scene at this point, Dave can apparently charm any woman, even if she’s not the one he’s looking for.

“I wish I was your Carolyn, I would have enjoyed a life with you,” she’s telling Dave as they walk over to you and Aaron, “but I also would not have let you go in the first place.” Dave smiles at her and you all say goodbye.

As you walk back to the car, step in step with Dave, you smile and ask, “What is it with you and Italian women? They just fall at your feet.” Dave chuckles and you catch Aaron’s quirk of a smile, happy you managed to make both men happy for a moment.

By the time you get back to the hotel, all three of you are exhausted. Aaron walks with Dave to his room, wanting to make sure he’s alright and bring him anything he might need. You head back to your room alone, already planning on spending the evening writing. There’s a good amount in your notebook and you want to start getting it into a document. You might even reach back out to your old boss, talk about coming back to work in a different capacity once you return to New York and feel ready.

You settle at the desk in your room, laptop out and booting up, and feel yourself get pulled into the rhythm of writing an article. The notes and thoughts in your notebook aren’t terrible, but polishing them into a more cohesive story fills your evening and you look up at one point for a break and realize it’s nearly dinner time. There’s a simple room service menu you order from before sitting back down in front of your laptop to continue working. The knock on the door announcing the arrival of your food pulls you from your trance. As the hotel employee wheels the cart out of your room, you hear a knock on the doorframe.

Aaron’s voice is calling your name and when you peak your head around the wall to the door, you see him holding the door open. “Oh, come in,” you tell him, standing up from the desk chair.

“Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get dinner, but you seem to already have that figured out,” Aaron points out.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on the story and didn’t want to stop so-”

“Can I read it?”

You blink at him. “Uh. No, not yet. It’s not ready.”

 Aaron takes a step towards you. “Come on, just a little bit. I want to make sure you’re telling the story right. That I’m being portrayed accurately.”

“Trust me, you’re being portrayed accurately. No worries there.”

Aaron huffs out a breath and shoves his hands into his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” you laugh. You push off from the desk and grab Aaron by the shoulders, turning him towards the door. “Now leave me be so I can work in peace.”

He says your name, almost in a whine and you roll your eyes, opening the door. “Out. Goodnight Aaron.”

“Just one paragraph, please,” he protests as you shove him out of your room.

“Goodnight Aaron,” you say with a tone of finality.

“Goodnight,” he says, the door swinging shut in his face. You settle back in at the desk, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

The next morning, you search the patio for Aaron and Dave. They tend to beat you to breakfast and you figure today is no different. But you can’t find them anywhere so you simply grab yourself some food and sit at a table, facing the entrance to the breakfast area. You keep an eye out for them as you fix yourself a cup of coffee and pick at the pastry you’d gotten, pouring over your notebook.

“Ah, good morning.” You look up to see Aaron standing by the table. You smile, tapping your pen against your cheek.

“Morning,” you say as he sits down. There’s a comfortable silence as Aaron pours himself coffee and you concentrate on your notebook. It's still just the two of you at the table after a few minutes. “Where’s Dave?” you ask, eyes still scanning the pages of your notebook.

“He said he wanted to sleep in today.”

Your head snaps up and you look at Aaron. “Is he okay?” You can hear the slight panic in your voice, mind already racing with where the closest pharmacy is and what could possibly be wrong.

Aaron says your name, eyes locking on yours and cutting through your worry. “He’s fine, just tired,” he assures you. You let out a breath, nodding. “So he’s going to lie in for the morning. I was thinking about, uh, going into Siena and seeing the sights. Since we’re here you know.” He shrugs, glancing over to you.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” You turn back to your notebook, plans for working on your story filling your thoughts. Aaron lets out a soft scoff and you look up at him, confused. “What, it is a good idea! You should go explore. I’ll stay here and work on my story.”

Aaron looks out towards the city, his thumb running over his other fingers, nerves coursing through him. “Right, work on your story,” he mutters. “Of course.”

You look up at him, taking in his pose, how tense he looks. Quickly, you glance at your notebook and think it over in your head. You’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, the story was coming together quite nicely. Taking time away from it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And the way Aaron’s holding himself, the way he was talking, it’s almost as if he wants you to come with him. You shake that thought, thinking of how callous and rude he’s been to you this entire trip, how dismissive he was of the entire plan to find Carolyn. But, you are here in Siena. Adventures in Italy, you hear your partner whisper, as if their voice had been carried by the breeze.

You sigh and place your pen in between the pages of your notebook, saving your place. “Since we’re here,” you say grabbing Aaron’s attention, “we might as well explore.” He flashes you one of his small smiles and you return it, before putting your notebook in your bag and standing up. “C’mon Aaron, show me the sights.”

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo​ @averyhotchner​ @kelstark​ @hurricanejjareau​ @oreogutz​ @whentheautumnleavesfall​ 

[lokilickedme]

Submitted by @fudgemuffinanon

Ok I think I’m up to date….

1. HOLY SHIT WOMAN! You had Covid and just learned about it? How did you find out? Was it with a test? And you handled the asshat at the grocery store way better than I would have. I’m not patient, nor diplomatic, and I have major RBF syndrome… The temper goes with the face more ofter than I care to admit…

2. Your grandmother’s story was incredible. I know you don’t need another project but this could be a beautiful book. No fandom incorporated, just her story.

3. As @mollage said, the Universe is after you! But you may be one of the strongest woman I know, going through all your adventures with that attitude. Thank you Elizabeth for passing down your fiery spirit!

4. With everything that happened to you in the last few weeks, I can’t expect you to write anything. I’ll just wait and take what you give us. Fuck, I just have to deal with Baby Girl’s online school - Big Boy is responsible enough to deal with his class mostly alone - and I have to tell her to go back to the computer every 5 minutes and I’m going NUTS! And we have one more month to go…

Ontario has been in stay-at-home order since April 8th, and non-essential stores MAY reopen mid-June at 15% capacity and outdoor activities in small groups MAY resume IF we have 60% of population vaccinated with their first dose. We’re about 58% now according to Health Minister but they stopped giving Aztra as first dose, so all the pharmacies that could give it now can’t. There’s a lot less Pfizer and Moderna doses available so I don’t know how fast it will happen. But it means I will most likely get my second dose quicker than August. Yay me! Second phase won’t happen until we get 70% 1st dose vaccination. So we’re stuck for a while. We’re going out in the woods for walks once in a while so we don’t get too close to people but I want to go to a fabric store sooooo bad!! I’m done picking ticks off hubby everytime we get out.  And I’m running out of crafts to learn on youtube. 

Ok, enough ranting…  gotta go finish knitting Baby girl’s bday gift. A 6" turtle. With clothes. And a shawl. And boots. Yeah… Love ya!

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

Fudgey!!

Yup. All four of us had covid back in November of 2019, before it broke wide and before anyone really knew it was in the US. Husband was able to track it back to a coworker who’d returned from a family visit to China (he works with a large community of Asian Americans who travel back and forth a lot). The coworker came home sick, and shortly after that our household got the worst “flu” any of us have ever had (that was what we thought it was, a weirdly violent flu that hit each of us differently). I’ve never been sicker in my life, my husband thought I was going to die and he claims I told him to just let me go if it looked like I wasn’t going to make it. I’m pretty sure I meant it…it was that bad. I may have actually requested an assist to the other side at one point.

So anyway, a little while later it broke wide and when the symptom lists started coming out we started wondering if that wasn’t what we’d had. Husband finally a few weeks ago went and talked to the guy that had come back sick from overseas and the guy said “Oh yeah, I had the covid, did you get it too?”

By that time there had been approximately 150 known cases at husband’s workplace and six confirmed deaths from it. Grrrr.

At this point it was too late for us to get confirmed, but husband contacted a friend in Colorado who is a covid specialty ER nurse and described our symptoms and the timeframe of our illness to her. She said we absolutely had it - she’d had it too during that same timeframe, before it broke wide and before anyone knew what it was.

So now all my lingering weird-ass symptoms make sense. Big and Little are fine, they don’t seem to have any long-term problems, though I’m keeping an eye on them (especially Big). Husband is fine as well. Me? I took it in the seat of the pants, but like I was telling someone the other day, as soon as one of the longhaul clinics sets up here I’m gonna be there.

The putz in the grocery store was nothing unusual for here. What really gets me is the way people glare at us for continuing to wear masks - it’s almost scary. WTF is wrong with people.

Glad you liked my grandma’s story. Honestly I don’t know enough to write a book about her without having to speculate on a lot of in-between stuff because she was a very secretive person (probably for a good reason tbh) but what a tale it would be. She was a mess :D My mother has always been mad at me for taking after her - she never liked my grandmother much, there was some bad blood between them from decades back, and yeah that’s kind of a good story too lol

Ah, speaking of writing, I’m going to toss out a short chap of that silly self indulgent side-thing for The Department tonight (probably as soon as I send this reply off) and then I’m shooting for a chapter of the actual fic tomorrow at some point. Taking advantage of the husbandary absence (yes I know that’s not a word but it works)

I feel ya on the homeschooling - the boys finished their semester two weeks ago and the stress of that final week for Big (9th grade) was insane.

I wish we were under a stay-at-home order, but where I live hardly anyone obeyed it when we WERE. I love living here but I swear sometimes the people make me want to move off-planet just to find a higher intelligence demographic.

Anyway, I gotta see this turtle when you’re finished with it. You mentioned it so now you gotta show it. I’m going to bug you every day until you provide pictures because even though I can crochet a blanket like nobody’s business I cannot crochet a doll to save my own ass. Gonna have to rely on you for that ;P

@fudgemuffinanon

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 13: Filled emptiness (Part 3)

Warnings: addiction, mentions of murder

Author notes: here is part 3...! It is a quieter part compared to the previous one, I hope you’ll like it!

We went back early enough for me to take a small shower and trade my shirt for a clean one. The doctor wanted to meet me in front of the dorms at half past seven, which also allowed me to have breakfast. While I was getting prepared, Dazai had gone to his bedroom to rest, but I was convinced he had most certainly fallen asleep. He rarely did sleep, even when he felt exhausted, so I hoped he could at least close his eyes without becoming an easy prey for his nightmares. I took a deep breath and exited his apartment to start my day, which would be the first of my therapy, too. I had not slept at all, yet I felt more energised than ever, and determined to finally turn a page of my life to start anew.

As expected Yosano-sensei was there, easily recognisable by the peculiar hairpin in the shape of a butterfly she wore everyday. I walked towards her, and greeted her with my brightest smile.

"Good morning sensei…!"

"Ogawa…! Just on time…! Today—"

She stopped, then grabbed my chin to take a closer look at my face. She narrowed her eyes, annoyance clearly changing her expression.

"... Are you kidding me, Ogawa…?"

"W-Well…"

"You didn't sleep, did you?" She clicked her tongue "I refuse to start your treatment today. You'll only feel pain, and it won't help at all."

"I see… I should have expected as much…"

"It doesn't matter." She patted my shoulder lightly "You surely had something important to do… I still have something to show you, though…!"

"And I'm impatient to see what it is…!"

She took a couple of keys out of her pocket, then led me towards the door to an apartment. I first thought it was her place, but that guess was pushed aside the moment I saw the room was empty. With a smile, she showed me around, and I quickly understood what was happening.

"Is that… My future home…?"

"You're wrong." She corrected me "It's not your "future" home, it's your home from now on. The former resident has just left, so you can use it."

"But… I don't have enough money to rent it… I thought that was why I was still living at Dazai's…"

"Money isn't an issue since the Agency pays for us. It was simply a matter of freeing some space for you. And, at last, it happened…!" She exclaimed, rather proudly "Do you like it?"

"Do I like it…? I love it…!" I answered, wholeheartedly "I finally have a home… Ever since I was born, no place had ever felt so warm… I'm so glad, thank you, Yosano-sensei…!"

"I'm happy for you, then." She smiled "You already have a futon, and a table. You can add other furniture when you have enough money to buy some."

"Yes…! I can already picture a bookshelf right here… It would be filled with books… And a pillow too, to create a cosy reading space…" I imagined.

"That's not a bad idea." She agreed "Oh, and… Look inside the wardrobe."

I was curious, so I did just as she said and opened it, only to find a set of new and colourful clothes. There were a few identical white shirts, as well as a navy blue suit composed of a jacket and a pair of pants. I looked at the doctor, astonished.

"Sensei, I… That's so much… I can't accept it…"

"It's a late welcome gift to the Agency." She said softly "Your clothes are… Well, I'm not sure you can call them clothes anymore… This is a new life, you need some changes."

"Even so, they are so beautiful…"

"You also have a new pair of shoes at the entrance, although you were too amazed by the place to notice them." She chuckled "I'd also like to do something for your hair… But let's wait for that addiction  to go away first."

"I agree… I'll really be freed when morphine won't control my life anymore."

"That's right. For now, you should rest. Have some sleep, too. I'll see you tomorrow at the Agency for your treatment."

"Thank you again, sensei… Oh, and… I have a case, too… A request from a friend… I have to go to Hokkaido by the end of the week." I remembered.

"I see… Do you think you can handle this while following your therapy…? It might be too hard…"

"I want to be cured. And I can't go back on my word. Besides, it is rather urgent, since someone's life is at stake. I'll manage, somehow." I assured her.

"If you say so, I have no other choice but to trust you." She nodded "See you tomorrow at the Agency, we'll discuss the case and prepare for your departure."

"Yes, sensei…!" I smiled at her "See you tomorrow…!

As soon as I closed the door behind her, a feeling of relief and joy overwhelmed me. I had a new place… My own place, one I would call "home", where I would go back to, where I would hide from the world… Since I had been generously given a day off, I grabbed my keys, enjoying the light tinting sound they made between my fingers, and decided to head off. I at least needed to buy a teapot and a book to occupy my quiet day, before starting one of the toughest times of my life, my therapy. I had lived in the streets, killed people for the Port Mafia and had even merely escaped from death, yet separating myself from morphine seemed like an impossible challenge to overcome. The simple thought of not getting my injection anymore made me crave the sweet sensation provided by the product, and I immediately stopped in my tracks. After all, it would only start the next day… For the moment, I was still an addict and had the right to consume morphine. For the moment…

Once the drug was freely flowing in my vessels, I was ready to leave and go shopping. I also needed to fill my empty fridge, and Uemura-san's store seemed like the perfect place to spend my money. He knew me, and it would not be an issue to use the laundered money I had earned from the Port Mafia. From an illegal point of view, I was pretty rich, but it was money I could never use, except with a few rare people. The man welcomed me warmly, glad that I had finally settled down somewhere.

"And how is my disciple? I hope he takes good care of you." He said, scanning the price of my purchase.

"He does." I told him "He's too worried about me for my liking, but I suppose I can't help it… I'm touched, but…"

I sighed. I could not say it made me feel irrational when it came to Dazai…

"He can be pretty insistent." He shrugged "I think you remind him of his sister, that's why."

"His what…?" I frowned.

"He didn't tell you? Well… He had an older sister, back then… She was very kind, and lived absolutely unaware of her brother's activity. A nice girl, really…"

I took the bag he handed me.

"What happened to her?"

"She met a man. The wrong one. She went on a date with him and her body was discovered the next day. Her head, however… It was never found."

I felt a shiver running down my spine, then recalled the case. It was a famous one, I had heard about it, even in the Port Mafia. The culprit was a serial killer, and had never been arrested…

"He was only seventeen back then… A young teen with an incredible gift for his current activity… It left him with quite a trauma."

"I see… That serial killer…"

I clenched my fist. I was not one to work for justice, nor to defend Yokohama, but, somehow, it angered me that such an awful man was still running free in the world. Besides, since the case of the Fox's sister, many other headless female bodies had been found in our city… It was strange that the Agency and Ranpo-san had not already arrested the criminal… Maybe he had not been requested to work on the case, after all…

"Well, now, you may understand his behaviour better. Don't tell him that I told you." He winked.

"I won't." I promised "Oh, and, thanks for your advice. About cooking, I mean."

"Don't worry about that…!" He chuckled "I can't let you eat junk food everyday after all. Besides, if you want to start a new life, you've got to start by eating better…!"

"Still, thank you." I smiled "I'm very grateful that you support me so much… I'm not sure if I deserve your kindness… But I'll try to be worth it."

"You sought my support, and I am glad to give it to you." He patted my shoulder "Do your best. You're a good person, Ogawa."

"Thank you, Uemura-san… Thank you…"

It felt comforting to have someone who believed in me and in the fact I was able to redeem myself, somehow. I had never been a good person, and it was a lie to say that the Port Mafia had turned an innocent girl into a monster, for that beast had always lied dormant within me. However, being given a chance to be a better human was something I would forever be grateful for. We all had the right to change, after all…

When I came back to the dormitory, I instinctively walked towards Dazai's door, before remembering the reason I had gone out was to slowly inhabit my own place. Delighted, I inserted my key into the lock to open my door, and immediately relished in the quiet atmosphere of the room. Slowly, I removed my shoes and went to my fridge, feeling oddly satisfied as I placed the diverse vegetables and goods I had bought for the first time. I had never gone grocery shopping before… The only shop I had ever visited was an old pharmacy to buy morphine with a forged prescription. Even so, the pharmacist had never taken a look at the said prescription, too eager to chase an addict away from his store quickly, which explained why I had never lacked pain relievers despite leaving the Mafia. Truly, it felt… Normal.

Delicately, I unpacked the kettle Uemura-san had given me to celebrate my new place. With it, boiling water would be so much easier, and making tea would only take a blink. Five months ago, when I had just become a detective, I had decided to stop drinking alcohol whenever I needed a distraction from the world. Yosano-sensei had strongly warned me about the state of my liver, and I had decided to listen to her. Following her advice, I had discovered tea, which had then slowly replaced sake and whisky, although I still drinked alcohol from time to time. Immediately, I prepared a cup of tea, ready to relax for the rest of the day, before realising that I had forgotten to stop by the bookstore to buy the first book I would read in my new home. It was important to me, and I needed time to choose… Thus, I prepared to leave again, but when I opened the door, a small package had been placed in front of it, accompanied by a note.

"Welcome, neighbour!"

I giggled as I recognised Dazai's handwriting, and unwrapped the gift. It was a book, of course… The mystery I had been reading just the previous evening, and which I had yet to solve. That one would be the first book of my home, and it was not a bad thing that it was one I would continue. Because I now had a home, it did not mean I had to start everything anew… With a slight smile, I went back inside. Finally, I was ready to spend a relaxing day off, the last one before a series of troubles. Even so, I knew that everything would be fine, eventually.

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Pain Is So Close To Pleasure (Platonic!Reader x Modern!Queen)

Summary: As a recently promoted Soloist for the Royal Ballet, you move closer to Covent Garden with your four-year-old daughter, Rose. But your new neighbour turns out to be the last person you'd expect to pop up on your doorstep.

A/N: Fun fact, there is a woman called Elizabeth Harrod who is a soloist for the Royal Ballet, has a 4-year-old child and once played the character mentioned. All by coincidence. And she is married to Steven McRae who was the inspiration for the fic I was hugely inspired by. Fun times guys. I used to dance ballet once or twice a week for about 5 years but stopped 4 years ago. And I may or may not be regretting my decision to quit. Oh well. I really hope you liked this, do leave feedback if you don't mind and perhaps a like or even a reblog? I have at least 3 more ideas for this but if you think of anything then please please please let me know! Stay hydrated kiddos!

Warning(s): swearing, mentioned arguments, crying, mentioned nightmares, reader is female btw

Inspiration: Brian May’s instagram, Incandescent by @immistermercury on AO3, Modern Times Rock N Roll by @rhapso-kei on Tumblr and AO3, Outed by @platawnic on Tumblr

Word Count: 7.2k+ (it’s a big boi lads)

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty

Ask to be on my taglist if you want!

Never in a million years had you ever expected moving to a new house to be this fun. For it was only carrying boxes into the house repeatedly for hours at a time. Right?

Wrong!

It turned out that the opportunities for games increased tenfold when you have a child. The child in question had barely even stepped out of the van when she suggested that you compete against each other to see who could carry the most boxes into your new house. Given that you had actual professionals lifting the heavy stuff – chairs, tables and so forth – racing would actually speed things up with getting the smaller boxes in the house.

Small footsteps increased in volume before a similarly small voice asked, “What next, Mummy?”

You looked up at you daughter from where you were awkwardly crouched inside the delivery van, shockingly ungraceful for a ballerina, just for one moment amidst all of the chaos that came with moving to a new house. All wrapped up in her khaki green coat, her nose and cheeks were tinted with the pink of harsh January mornings. Her eyes were the same colour as yours, the most beautiful shade of (Y/E/C), and were always alive with excitement; today was no exception. She was almost the perfect likeness to you: the same skin, the same nose, the same lips. Her hair was more like that of her father��s, but she was beautiful all the same, and more importantly your precious girl.

You dragged yourself out of your daydream and passed a relatively small stack of books to Rose, “You got it?” you asked uncertainly, images of newly-ruined books spilt over the floor flashing through your mind for a second.

“Yup!” she was already running into the house and up the stairs by then and you chuckled despite yourself. You dragged a transparent plastic box from the back of the van to where you had now positioned yourself. This one was full to the brim of dead pointe shoes, each pair decorated with paints and lace and beads and whatever you had in the house at the time; one even had uncooked pasta stuck to it. You were sure that you were going to find more boxes like these considering how many pairs you had worn over the years.

It had become a sort of tradition for you, to decorate each pair of pointe shoes once they died, never quite being able to let go of them. You wrote their date of ‘birth’ – when you wore them for the first time - and their date of ‘death’ – the day they finally broke – on the sole of each shoe in gold paint and a fine brush. Often, they were the same date, which was evidence of how hard you worked. You liked to decorate the wings and the vamp using a random theme, usually shows you had performed. The ones you had oh-so-carefully picked up however was Tangled-themed, chosen by Rose when you had had a lack of inspiration. You placed it back down and swapped it for another, this time a Swan Lake pair. You smiled to yourself at the memories attached to that particular pair; it had been your first ever professional show, when you were still in the Royal Ballet School and the company had merged with the school for the first time since your arrival. You looked at the dates on the soles and almost gasped despite yourself.

16.12.2012 ~ 23.12.2012

Just over 5 years ago.

Those shoes were almost an entire year older than Rose. You couldn’t quite believe that you had been involved with the Royal for so long. It felt like mere days, weeks at the most. The only thing convincing you otherwise was the sheer number of shoes in the box and the combined weight of them all, seen as you went through upwards of 100 pairs every season. Fortunately, ballet wasn’t just turns, leaps, plies and wearing gorgeous costumes, it required a great deal of strength so carrying the box into the house was hardly a problem.

From a stranger’s glance, your new home appeared to be a house, Georgian with bricks the colour of coffee, immaculately painted and symmetrical to every other house in the immediate vicinity. But this was London, more importantly this was central London, and that meant you’d have to be a multi-millionaire in order to afford an actual house. It also meant that the whole block was once something that could only be described as a miniature mansion, and had been split up into houses and now, several flats. One of which you were now the proud owner.

You had spent a long time saving up for this flat; you had needed more space for you and your daughter for a while now and you had been long overdue a change from that studio flat in Camden. So, when this flat came up for sale, you felt as if all of your prayers had been answered. Compared to your previous home, this one had buckets of space, you had a bedroom each for a start. It was a mere twenty-minute walk to the Royal Opera House, making it so much easier when you had late performances or overrunning rehearsals. Or when you accidentally forgot your leg warmers or spare pointe shoes, incidents that happened more often than you would like.

You climbed the staircase to your first-floor flat; you supposed that that would take some getting used to, especially after long days of back-to-back classes, rehearsals and shows. You pretty much dumped the box of pointe shoes on the floor of the living room and turned around to leave only to have Rose collide straight into you.

“Sorry, Mummy!” she giggled, as sweet as ever, and blew you a kiss as a form of apology.

“That’s alright, darling, it was only an accident,” you blew her a kiss back, “Now, where did you put your books?”

She grabbed your hand and tugged you incessantly to your bedroom, “Look!” she pointed proudly to the stack of books on your bed, which looked as if it could collapse at a moment’s notice, but a stack, nonetheless.

Your heart broke slightly when you realised: she still thought you had to share a room. You crouched down to be eye-level with her, “Rose, why don’t you put them in your room, instead? They’re your books, sweetie, not mine.”

“But they are in my room,” she frowned, head cocked to the side in confusion.

“No, this is Mummy’s room. Your room is next door,” it was your turn to lead her into her own bedroom, a tad more gently than how she’d done it, and her eyes opened wide with wonder.

“I can have my own room?” her voice filled with disbelief and your heart ached terribly.

“Of course, princess. This flat is much, much bigger than our old one.”

She squealed with excitement and threw her arms around you, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, before running off to grab her picture books. You stood up, shaking your head with a chuckle before returning to the van. You grabbed another box, this one stuffed with Rose’s toys, “Rose! Can you come and bring this one in?”

She catapulted down the stairs, forever a tiny hurricane, and snatched the box out of your hands. You made your way to the front door with another box in your arms for about the hundredth time that day but stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the pavement.

Rose was wandering down the street, box of toys long forgotten and left on the stairs, heading straight for the busy road perpendicular to your own. You dropped your own box on the pavement and broke out into a full-on sprint to stop her, heart pounding with fear. She was reaching the end of the pavement, completely oblivious to the cars speeding along to her right, and to the car that was indicating to turn left. For a fleeting second you thought the reckless driver was going to hit her, when a man suddenly ran out f the pharmacy at the end of the road and swept her up into his arms. You scowled, endlessly grateful that she hadn’t been hurt, but more than slightly annoyed that a complete stranger had the audacity to pick up your precious girl. Your maternal instincts went into overdrive and, once you reached them, you snatched Rose back from the man.

“Get your hands off my child,” you glared at him. Now you could get a far better look at him, you could tell he definitely wasn’t young, his white hair and beard gave that away instantly. His eyes were masked by sunglasses, confusing you slightly; it may have been sunny that day, but it was only January. Something about him was strangely familiar to you, it was hard to describe but you were sure you recognised the overall aura he had about him. You shook off the thought for now, you could ponder over it long after Rose had gone to bed and you finally had some time to yourself. Speaking of Rose, you shifted your focus to her; she seemed unharmed, if a little shaken up. You placed her on your hip and she instinctively tucked her head into the crook of your neck and looked at the man curiously.

“Well, I did just save her life, you could at least say thank you,” the stranger muttered, his voice gruff but somehow light.

Your gut dropped; you recognised that voice. You tried to convince yourself otherwise, but that voice was way too unique to be anyone else’s. He must have seen the cogs turn in your head for he smirked slightly.

Internally, you were freaking the fuck out because holy shit you think you just met Roger fucking Taylor, but externally, you attempted to keep your composure because it didn’t matter who he was, he still grabbed your daughter and he was crazy if he thought you were going to let that slide.

You were frantically trying to think of something, anything, to you say when Rose felt the need to come to your rescue, “Are you Santa?”. When no one said anything because you were both, quite frankly, too stunned to reply, her excitement just grew, “Mummy, look, it’s Santa! Santa saved me!” she turned to look at him and put on her sweetest voice, “Thank you, Santa!”

He sighed, knowing full well he was about to break this poor girl’s heart, and said, “No, I’m not Santa, he lives a long way away.”

She pouted before finding something else that entertained her, “Why are you wearing sunglasses?” she giggled, holding out a hand to try and rip them off of his face and nearly falling out of your arms in the process. You placed her back on the pavement, just to be on the safe side.

He reluctantly took them off and gave them to her, and she grasped them excitedly. She tried to put the sunglasses on, but they were far too big for her, so they just kept sliding off, amusing her to no end.

You forced yourself to look at the man, now you were definitely sure it was Roger and fucking hell you hadn’t expected your day to go anything like the way it had. He raised an eyebrow and you only just clocked that he was still waiting for a reply. “Thank you for stopping her,” you said somewhat sheepishly; now you’d had the chance to think over what he’d actually done, you felt a little guilty for berating him like that. You’d naturally assumed he meant to cause harm somehow, but if he had had such intentions then surely, he wouldn’t have waited for you. He could have run off with Rose, but he didn’t. Naturally, you were still a little wary but while Rose had been interrogating the man over whether or not he was in fact Father Christmas, you had come to the conclusion that he was probably harmless.

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

By around lunchtime you had actually carried in everything that you could, so you’d decided that the rest of the day could be a well-earned lazy day. As you expected, Rose had had no objection to that whatsoever, seen as lazy days more often than not meant Disney marathons. You were making a light lunch, knowing that you’d need to save room for sheer amount of popcorn you’d bought from the corner shop, while Rose was picking out a film to start with.

“Mummy, I got one!” she called as you brought your sandwiches into the living room. She was sat by the TV, surrounded by DVDs with one in her hand. She squinted hard at the blurb of the DVD she was holding, as if she was trying to read it, which made you chuckle to yourself. “What are you laughing at?” she looked at you quizzically.

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to burst her little bubble, “Nothing, sweetheart. Which one did you choose?”

She stood up wobbly, coming incredibly close to falling right back down again but only just regaining her balance, “Zootropolis!” she had to say the word very slowly; the word was very hard to say for a four-year-old, even you struggled with it sometimes.

Zootropolis was one of her favourites at the moment, second only to Tangled, so you weren’t all that surprised by her choice. This would have been the fourth or fifth time watching it so far that month alone, and you were only about halfway through January. The joys of having a child, you thought wryly to yourself. Not that you’d ever complain to Rose. Besides, you’d much rather Zootropolis to Frozen, which you didn’t think you could ever watch again after being subjected to hearing Let It Go every day for weeks and then much longer in your head.

“Ah, good choice,” you said as she thrust the DVD in front of your face. You put the sandwiches down on the coffee table and took the DVD from her, “Why don’t you go and get a couple of your toys to watch the film with us while I set it up? Maybe you could get Nick and Judy.”

Her eyes positively lit up at the idea and she raced off to find them. You’d gone to Oxford Street just before Christmas to see all the lights and Christmas decorations, which then turned into going to the Disney store, which led into incessant begging from Rose to get one of the Zootropolis plushies. You’d ended up compromising, meaning she could get two of her choice, but she couldn’t play with them until Christmas. So now, any excuse to play with them was a good excuse and was guaranteed to keep her entertained for hours on end.

You had just put the disc in the TV when you heard the buzz signalling that someone was at the door. You were a little puzzled; you’d only just moved into this flat, how on earth did someone already have your address? You made your way to the door and held the button on the receiver, allowing you to talk to whoever was there, “Hello?”

“Hi, is this (Y/N)?” an unfamiliar female voice asked, only adding to your confusion.

“Yeah, who’s asking?”

“Well, my name’s Sarina, I think you met my husband this morning?”

A few minutes later, Sarina and Roger were sitting on your sofa with a cup of tea each, with you on the one-seater in front of the window, rhythmically pointing and relaxing your toes, a habit from dancing ballet pretty much every day for about fifteen years. It was around then when you started thinking about how weird this day was turning out to be. First, Roger Taylor saves your daughter’s life, then you give him your address even though you were sure you had no memory of that, and then him and his wife turn up to your flat for no apparent reason other than to have a chat.

You heard Rose’s obnoxiously loud footsteps run down the corridor and once she got to the living room, she stopped dead in her tracks. She had her arms full with soft toys but dropped them all when she noticed your visitors, “Mummy, look it’s not-really-Santa!” she pointed, face lit up with glee at meeting her saviour once again. Then she noticed Sarina and pouted with confusion, “Who are you? Are you not-really-Mrs-Claus?”

“Darling, we told you he’s not actually Santa,” you lightly chastised her.

Rose just looked at you as if she was trying to be patronising, “I know, that’s why I said, ‘not really’!”

Sarina only laughed and said, “My name’s Sarina, I’m Roger’s wife.”

Rose just looked even more baffled than before, “Roger? Who’s Roger?”

Roger waved awkwardly, having not said anything the whole time he’d been there.

A quiet ‘ohhhh’ came from Rose, but her attention quickly returned to her dropped toys, which she promptly rescued from the floor and popped onto your lap. You raised an eyebrow at the pile and looked back at your daughter, “That’s quite a few toys, darling.”

Rose grinned cheekily, “Well, I got Judy and Nick because they’re in the movie but then I thought that my other animals would be sad that I left them out so I got Dumbo, Minnie and Mushu and then I got Rapunzel because she’s my favourite and she loves Pascal and he’s a chame-,” she stopped, understandably struggling with the word.

“Chameleon,” you whispered to try and help her out.

“Yeah, that,” she giggled, not even trying to say it. You put it down to having new people over who she wanted to impress so you made a mental note to help her with it later on.

You turned back to your guests, forgetting momentarily that they were even there, something which you often did while talking to Rose, “Sorry, we were just about to watch Zootropolis as a sort of ‘well done’ for moving all of our stuff inside in one morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt or anything, we just wanted to, well, welcome you to the neighbourhood, I guess. We live just down the road from here,” Sarina justified, and suddenly their surprise visit made so much more sense. You were infinitely grateful as even though it wasn’t like you had no friends at all who lived in London, it couldn’t hurt to have some close by.

“No, don’t apologise, it’s really sweet of you both, thank you so much,” you smiled at them both.

Roger then decided to speak up for the first time since he got there, and you were still wondering why he was being so shy, “Listen, is there anything we can do to help you out at all? I know moving house can be a pretty big deal so if we can help you with anything then do say.”

Your instant thought was to say that you were fine, that you’d be able to manage. You weren’t one to ask for help unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, it was difficult for you. But once you considered it for a moment, you remembered that you had a full day of classes and rehearsals tomorrow, Rose didn’t start at her new pre-school until next week and you hadn’t booked a childminder or a babysitter. You looked at the couple on your sofa, kind and eager to help, and finally opened your mouth to speak, “I have work tomorrow. Is there any chance you could look after Rose for the day?”

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

“I promise I’ve almost got it; I just need to get the footing right after the grand jete,” you reached for your water bottle, “I’m not sure why I can’t land properly.”

“I think it’s because you’re making the chaines more aggressive than they need to be. If you take a gentler approach, then you can put more energy into how you jump and then how you land,” Samantha, the ballet mistress of the company, suggested.

You pulled your fuchsia leg warmers right up to the tops of your legs and tried again, this time taking Samantha’s advice. You landed perfectly flat on your right foot, unfolding straight away and placing your arms in fourth on impulse. You pointed your index fingers as part of your character’s variation which, as it differed from the traditional ballet hand, still took some getting used to.

The Sleeping Beauty would be your first performance since being promoted to a Soloist, and you had received the role of the Fairy of The Golden Vine, meaning you had your own solo in the prologue. You obviously wanted to do really well, you wanted to prove to both the audience and to the other dancers that you deserved the role and the position in the company, despite the little gremlin back at home who was also known as your daughter.

You absolutely adored the name you had chosen for your angel. Rose. The flower thrown onto the stage at the end of a performance which more often than not ended up in a vase on the kitchen windowsill. The colour of the leotard you rehearsed in. The rose-coloured glasses that all children wore at some point in their young lives when they were oblivious and innocent. The colour of optimism, love, joy. The word rose, in and of itself, had so many positive connotations for you, which was exactly what you had needed when you had been expecting her.

Samantha broke you free from your daydream, “Well, we have about half an hour left, is there anything else you wanted to look at before the show tomorrow night?”

It still had yet to sink in for you that the first of eight performances was tomorrow. You hadn’t given it much thought because you didn’t want it to stress you out. Especially when you had other things to worry about, like polishing your part in Act III. Which reminded you, “Could we go over the wedding scene?” you asked sheepishly.

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

You lightly knocked on the door, looking at your phone yet again to check the address. You rubbed your hands together to fight the bitter cold of winter evenings, suddenly regretting not wearing gloves. A forget-me-not blue sky hung overhead, already getting dark even though it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. The pristine door in front of you opened after a few seconds of waiting, but what you were not expecting, however, was for Dr Brian May, guitarist for Queen, arguably the best in the world, astrophysicist and animal rights activist, to answer the door with pen all over his face, “Ah, hello, you must be (Y/N).”

“Err, yeah, hi,” you nervously chuckled, a little starstruck at the man in front of you.

“Mummy?” a small, uncertain called out, soon accompanied by an awfully familiar face peeking out through the doorway to the living room.

“Hello, sweetheart,” you crouched down to be eye level with Rose, holding out your arms as an invitation for a hug.

“Mummy!” she quite literally took it with open arms and the brightest smile you had ever seen plastered on her face.

“Did you have a nice time, princess?” you asked between soft kisses pressed to her head.

This launched her into a fit of giggles and she only just managed to gasp out, “I’m not the princess, Roger’s the princess!”

You stood up with Rose sitting comfortably on your hip, “Is he now? Then who are you?” you bopped her nose with each of the last three words.

Of course, more light-hearted laughter ensued, “I’m the queen! And Brian’s the royal ad-” she stumbled on the last word and pouted, only for the man in question to whisper something in her ear and for her to shout, “Advisor! And Brian’s the royal advisor! Can I show you the kingdom?”

You set her down on the floor carefully and curtseyed like you would at the end of a show, “Lead the way, your most royal highness!” You exchanged a curious glance with Brian and followed your now running daughter into the living room.

To the ordinary person, the living room would appear to be in a state of total and utter chaos. Dining room chairs held up bedsheets, forming a makeshift tent in the centre of the room. Pillows were scattered around the fort, along with seemingly ancient colouring books, with pages the colour of buttermilk, washable pens and sweet wrappers that had yet to be picked up.

Rose dived in, luckily into Roger’s arms rather than the wooden floor. He swept her up into the air, the girl squealing with excitement, before returning her safely to the ground. “Roggie, you’re silly!” she smiled sweetly at him, making his face flood with the red of embarrassment.

“Roggie?” you laughed at his expression and sat down on the other side of Rose, sandwiching her between you and Roger. You were secretly loving how much humiliation could be brought on by a four-year-old child.

Roger looked desperate to salvage whatever was left of his dignity, “Well at least it’s not as bad as ‘Bri Bri’!”

Brian just scratched his head awkwardly and took a seat opposite you all, “I thought it was cute.”

You just chuckled at the state of them both; usually it was you who felt like that, more often than not it was when you brought Rose to work with you, so you found it rather amusing to have someone else on the receiving end of your daughter’s jokes.

Brian cleared his throat, clearly wanting to change the subject as soon as possible, “Mind if I take a picture? You guys look pretty cute in there.”

“By all means,” you agreed, knowing that you had to get a picture too. You were almost guaranteed to tell your friends about this later and they wouldn’t believe you without some kind of proof.

He pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket and quickly snapped a photo of you all in your rather adorable tent. He put his glasses on to examine the image and, with a satisfied nod, leaned over to show it to you, “I’d put it on Instagram but with Rose’s age…”

“Well, I don’t have a problem with it,” you said. It was such a sweet photo, you thought it would be a shame to not share it with people, though you figured that might be the performer in you speaking. It was the nature of the job; the performing arts were, at their core, just complex forms of storytelling. You turned to Rose, deciding that she should have a say on the matter, “Darling, would you be alright if Brian put that picture of us on Instagram? A lot of people would see it,” you warned.

She just beamed up at you, “Yeah because then lots of people can see the kingdom I made with Roggie and Bri Bri!”

You just laughed at her and pulled her into a hug while Brian posted the photo onto his account. You froze when your phone vibrated mere seconds later. It’s fine. You could just play it off. Maybe a friend texted you or-

“Mummy, look, your phone lit up!” a girl with sweet and innocent intentions somehow managed to flood you with embarrassment and suddenly you felt bad for laughing at Roger and Brian earlier.

Fuck.

You looked at her with the fakest possible smile and said, “Thank you, darling.”

“Is somebody a fan, then?” Roger taunted, not helping the situation whatsoever and instead making you want to throw your phone out of the nearest window and then you along with it.

Of course you were a bloody fan, why else would you get a notification when Brian posted on Instagram? “You see, it’s a long story, I err, just got, um, a text from one of my friends about the show tomorrow?” It came out as more of a question than an answer.

Brian and Roger exchanged a knowing look before muttering to themselves that you were ‘definitely a fan’ and ‘who do you think you’re kidding’.

To hide yourself as much as humanly possible, you decided to open the app and check the post. It turned out that you weren’t the only one who had the post-notifications turned on. Other fans were already beginning to shower it with likes and comments, and you were intrigued as to what people were saying.

Who is the little girl?? She’s so cute 💖💖

Yes we stan Bri and Rog being grandads

Is it me or does she look like that dancer from the Royal?

How someone had worked out that last one, you would never know.

Brian, being the saint that he was, decided to save you from your shame, “Rose mentioned that you’re a ballet dancer,” he smiled, finally starting to clear up the mess of wrappers and pens.

“Did she now?” you asked playfully, bopping her nose much to her delight before helping Brian out.

“You any good?” Roger asked.

“Well, I’d hope so seen as it’s my job,” you joked.

Roger’s brows furrowed instantly, “Wait, it’s your job?”

You nodded, giggling slightly, “Yeah, I’ve danced professionally for about 5 years-”

“Mummy, that’s older than me!” Rose interrupted, mouth open in bewilderment.

“Yes, sweetheart, that is older than you, but remember to wait for your turn to speak, OK?” you reminded her. You’d been working on that for a little while and she was mostly getting the hang of it, although she slipped up every now and then as you’d expect from a four-year-old.

“Sorry, Mummy,” she apologised in a singsong voice.

“Thank you, my darling,” you kissed her head and pulled her in for a hug, “Anyway, I dance with the Royal Ballet down in Covent Garden. I just got promoted to a Soloist so I’m starting to get better roles than I was before.”

“So, what have you been doing today?” Brian asked, eyes bright with the same curiosity you saw in Rose from time to time.

“Well, I had my warm-up class at nine, then my technical one at eleven. I’d usually have another class or physio but we’re opening The Sleeping Beauty tonight, so I was in rehearsals for that all afternoon. Oh, and we had a final costume fitting just after lunch,” you counted them on your fingers, smiling bashfully when you were met with looks of bewilderment and awe.

“And you’ve got to do a whole performance too?” Roger asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I mean technically I should still be at the Opera House to eat my dinner but I had to come and get this little munchkin first,” you tickled Rose, her adorable giggles filling the room.

When you finally showed her mercy and ceased the tickles, she said, “I get to watch Mummy dance from the side!”

You quickly filled Roger and Brian in when they shot you looks of confusion, “She means the wings. I can’t afford to hire a babysitter for every performance I do so she gets to watch for free. Besides, she loves it, sometimes we dance together backstage when I’m not needed seen as the music’s loud enough.”

“Forgive me for asking,” Brian began warily, and you were already dreading the question that was sure to follow, “But why isn’t there anyone else to babysit her for the evening?”

Ah, the wonderful question that was asked of you nearly every time you met someone. You quickly shot him a look of not in front of Rose, and thank God he understood, for he nodded and sent you a smile as an apology. You turned Rose around so she was facing you instead of leaning against your front and said, “Darling, we have to go in a minute so why don’t you run and grab your toys, OK?”

She jumped up and ran off, hopefully to find her belongings, always oblivious and you hoped she’d stay that way for quite some time.

You took a deep breath and finally answered Brian’s question, “Rose’s father and I split up when she was two, and none of my family live in London,” you shrugged; Rose’s dad was still a bit of a touchy subject. Understanding washed over the both of them immediately, and suddenly you remembered they had both gone through the same thing.

Brian quickly changed the subject yet again, somehow sensing that you weren’t feeling all too comfortable, “Do you think we could come and watch one of your shows? We could bring Rose with us and that way you won’t have to worry about her being backstage.”

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you. I don’t think I can get you tickets for tonight but I probably can for tomorrow if that’s alright?” you smiled at his enthusiasm, especially considering you had only known him for about twenty minutes at the most. Roger didn’t seem as excited, though you were expecting that because, if you remembered correctly, he wasn’t a huge fan of musical theatre and ballet wasn’t far from that.

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

It was around one o’clock in the morning and even though you were yawning what felt like every ten seconds, you somehow found yourself sitting on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You knew that you should be settling down, Rose had gone to bed about an hour ago and you normally followed not long after, but you weren’t quite ready yet. With every passing minute, you would be feeling even more regret tomorrow, but it felt as though something was physically stopping you from sleeping.

“Mama?” a small, tired voice called from the doorway. You never closed your bedroom door all the way for this exact reason. Rose shyly tottered into the room, dragging her blanket on the floor behind her and hugging her stuffed dragon toy with her other arm, “Mama?”

You placed your phone on a cardboard box full of things you had yet to unpack and gestured for her to climb into your bed, “What’s up, sweetness?” she clambered into your arms and you shuffled back to lean on the wall behind you. Her cheeks were damp against your shoulder and your heart leapt into your mouth, “Hey bubba, it’s OK, you’re OK, I’ve got you.”

Tiny sobs escaped her mouth and you rocked her gently, patiently waiting for her to calm down. Fortunately, it was only a matter of minutes before her crying ceased. You took this opportunity to gently approach the subject of what had caused all of this, “Did you have a nightmare, darling?”

She nodded, keeping her movements and voice as small as she could, as if someone was confining every part of her, “Daddy.”

You took a breath to ground yourself because fuck you didn’t want her to have to deal with your mistakes and said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, “What happened with Daddy?”

She rubbed her eye with a tiny hand and murmured, “You. Daddy. Loud.”

You tried to put the pieces together, assuming that you’d been arguing with him. This happened when she was scared, or sad, she would act like she was two instead of four, which restricted her language especially. You supposed acting younger was a comfort to her. When you’d split up with her father, you’d hoped to God that she was too young to remember any of the arguments she’d overheard. You and him had been a classic case of ‘settling down far too quickly’. Rose had been an accident and simultaneously the one to show that the both of you weren’t thinking any of it through at all. He’d walked out after the biggest fight that you’d had, and you were quite grateful for it, if you were honest.

“Me and Daddy didn’t get on very well, darling,” you explained, “You won’t ever see him again, I promise. And I won’t be loud like that, OK?” You felt her nod against your chest, and you could feel her settling down already, “Did you want to sleep in Mummy’s bed tonight?”

She perked up at your suggestion; sleeping in your bed was always a treat reserved for special occasions, and you despised the thought of making her go back to bed by herself. “Please, please, please, Mama? I like your bed, it’s soft and warm and snuggly.”

You responded by turning off your phone and the lamp on your bedside table, and tucking you both in, still cradling her against your chest like a baby. You wondered as she already began to drift off, if it had really been procrastination that had been stopping you from going to sleep earlier, or if it was just a mother’s instinct. Or if you were just thinking that to try and make yourself feel better about yourself.

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

Backstage was even more alive with excitement that evening. Someone had seen Brian and Roger in the foyer and word had quickly spread, though you hadn’t said a word on the subject to avoid the rush of inevitable questions. It would make the tabloid headlines by tomorrow morning; you could guarantee that.

The whirlwind rush of backstage never changed, and secretly you hoped it would always stay that way. It was absolute chaos, someone’s pointe shoes had gone soft, or someone’s lost a bit of their costume, or someone’s tights had ripped. It was strange compared to the scene of calm and serenity seen on stage; it was as if each dancer was put under a spell of some sort the moment they stepped out of the wings. While most would find the constant change of environments unnerving, you quite liked it, it kept you on your toes better than the pointe shoes on your feet.

It was a tad strange not having to chase after Rose every five seconds, tonight she was out in the audience for the first time ever. You’d never thought to take her to watch a ballet, she’d seen basically every show in the Royal’s repertoire from the wings, sometimes more enthralled by what went on behind the scenes than the dancing itself. She was forever trying to help anyone who needed it, usually it was looking over a costume or a hairstyle and pointing out anything that was out of place. It was one of the only times people were grateful for the brutal honesty that came with her youth. When she wasn’t doing that, she’d sit somewhere where she could watch the performance through the wings with a sticker book to keep her occupied during the ‘boring bits’, or she’d sleep on the sofa you’d asked Heather to put in place for exactly that reason.

You always felt guilty about making her stay awake so late, considering evening performances didn’t end until around eleven o’clock at night, meaning she wasn’t in bed until just before midnight. Luckily, it wasn’t most nights as you didn’t perform every night, and you had asked to not do as many evening performances as possible, making up for it by doing almost every matinees available. However, that didn’t stop your heart from breaking slightly every time you saw Rose yawn as a result of the lack of sleep. You just didn’t have any other options, until tonight that was. And in secret you were hoping that Brian and Roger would be able to help out again, though you’d never bring it up with them.

You shook yourself back to reality when Meaghan, the dancer in front of you, made her entrance, meaning you had to step forwards, ready for your own. The fairies had to line up in the wings and you were the last one to go on and dance your solo before the Lilac Fairy. You watched Meaghan dance, adrenaline coursing through your veins as it always would just before an entrance, and her beautifully danced solo was done in what felt like thirty seconds rather than two minutes. You took a deep breath and ran on when you heard your cue, plastering a smile on your face that was real for the most part.

You felt the music flood every corner of your mind. You didn’t even have to think about the steps you were dancing, letting muscle memory take control. You lost yourself in the beauty of the music, and in the beauty of yourself. You knew you looked like a real fairy, you sure felt like one, and you hoped that at least one child out there in the audience was watching you and thinking wow I want to be able to do that. You ran over in your head literally everything you knew about ballet, every little piece of advice you’d ever been given, something you probably should have done backstage but that didn’t matter because there you were. You were dancing on your own, all eyes on you, and you relished in the attention that you’d usually shy away from. If that is what it felt like every time you performed on your own, then fuck you were hungry for more. It was over in what felt like a heartbeat but also an eternity, and you ran over to your place further downstage.

Now you had the opportunity to pause for a moment, you took it to scan over the audience, though it was in pure vain as they were obscured by darkness. You supposed it helped dancers with stage fright, though you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d become a dancer if your stage fright was that bad. It was no longer a problem for you, but it had been helpful when you danced on that stage for the first time, especially considering you had only been a teenager when you first started performing with the Royal. You had to admit that you were trying to find Rose, Brian and Roger, knowing they were out there somewhere, watching with wonder in their eyes. You forced yourself to give up with that particular challenge; it was a rookie mistake to try to find loved ones in an audience. You just hoped they recognised you from wherever they were seated.

Elation just ran wild through your veins and you couldn’t stop the blush of pride filling your cheeks, not that you wanted to. This was the reason you danced, for the childlike joy that it brought you, the kind of glee that was the cause of each and every one of Rose’s giggles. It was pointe-shoe pink, it was ice cream on a hot day, it was a butterfly flying past you. It was ephemeral, blink and you’d miss it, but the hangover feeling of sheer bliss, that was the reason you danced.

You were hardly conventional, you knew that. A young single mother, a ballet dancer who had been promoted to a Soloist in her early twenties and living in London of all places. You were a ballet dancer, dancing to the melody of her own piano and to hell with anyone who said that you couldn’t.

[robotslenderman]

Ghoul Community Headcanons

So I was thinking about Jonathan being ghoulified, and came up with some headcanons about ghouls.

And it made me realise just how fucking interesting ghouls are.

Ghouls, according to the wiki, are often on a need to know basis. So at first they have no idea what the fuck is going on and why they’re so in love with this person whose wrist they suck from, wtf??? and why are they committing crimes for them???

But often vampires exchanging favours will hook each other up with their retainers. So Jonathan, as a pharmacist, sometimes supplies drugs to vampires for whatever reason -- spiking a kine’s drink, selling on the street, things like that. Often these vampires will have ghouls pick them up. So ghouls start out very alone, but if their domitor is halfway competent, they soon run into other ghouls.

These ghouls will then quickly get new ghouls up-to-date on what exactly kindred are, their societies and clans, etc. Some of them have inside sources -- former ghouls who maintains sympathy and empathy for their old compatriots, and so teach their old friends as much as they can get away with.

As I said in Jonathan’s post, ghouls are tight knit, bonding over the trauma of being someone’s retainer, yet also hold each other at arm’s length. It is extremely easy for a domitor to get their ghoul to sing like a bird, so ghouls quickly teach new ghouls not to tell other ghouls anything that would piss their own regnant off. A second ghoul might tell their domitor this, whether out of spite for another ghoul or by accident, and it might get back to the first ghoul’s domitor.

But in spite of that -- they go out of their way for each other a lot. They’re an oppressed class going through a lot of trauma whose survival is at risk from both the law and their own regnants, so they bond as a group in ways that vampires never do and humans only tend to in times of war and occupation.

A ghoul gets the shit beaten out of them? Jonathan funnels some opioids from his pharmacy in their way to dull the pain until they get knitted back up. Jonathan attracts the attention of the law because of controlled substances going missing from his pharmacy, or the accounting problems due to him fudging numbers to cover this up? He sends word out to the ghoul network and somebody in the law pulls in a favour for him. Somebody’s regnant got baked in the sun and now there’s an independent ghoul with a vitae addiction who has nowhere to go? The ghouls get word out until a vampire scoops them back up, or the ghouls find another way to get the orphan their fix.

Ghouls may not be vampires, but they are heavily dependent on their regnant for their own survival -- so ghoul life is as much about surviving as vampire life is. The law is a much bigger threat to ghouls than vampires as they’re often used to cover up vampire crimes, so they have to get in good with ghouls in law enforcement and other ghouls who can help them out of a jam. (Needless to say, law enforcement ghouls are resented and seen as a necessary evil because they often power-trip.)

Ghouls rely heavily on their reputation. Like vampires, they use favours as currency, but unlike vampires most of them don’t keep strict track of these and more use them as a way to gauge how far out of their way they should go for someone who asks for help. If you can help someone but don’t, even if you don’t owe them anything, word will get out to other ghouls and your reputation suffers, and other ghouls are less likely to help you; vampires don’t give a fuck if other vampires do this. But if you do the bare minimum for someone you don’t owe, nobody will hold that against you because you did your duty, no more. Still, if you go far out of your way for someone who you don’t owe, it’s considered polite to repay them for it later.

However, not all ghoul communities are as warm and fuzzy as this. Depending on the location, you might get ghoul communities that go far out of their way for other ghouls like a tiny tight-knit village, or you might get ghouls who count favours just as savagely as vampires do, who play a jyhad of their own. 

Still, those communities are uncommon for the sheer fact that no matter how well you do, it can all come crashing down if your regnant abandons you or meets Final Death -- then, you’re at the total mercy of goodwill with other ghouls.

Some ghouls with the right connections will play both vampires and vampire hunters. In more jyhad-oriented ghoul communities, it’s not at all uncommon for ghouls to sic vampire hunters on the regnant of a ghoul that pissed them off, with or without the permission of their own regnant. In warmer ghoul communities, they might use vampire hunters to get a particularly battered ghoul out of a really bad situation, but only very carefully. It’s usually only used to get a ghoul from a bad domitor to a less-bad one, because it’s almost impossible for a ghoul to be completely liberated from vampires.

Vampire hunters are always looking for ghoul contacts. Attitudes vary between hunters, but ghouls are generally looked upon as battered spouses that can be occasionally convinced to turn in an abuser. 

A smart vampire hunter does not abuse ghouls; rather, they gain goodwill with ghouls and use these contacts to estimate vampire numbers. They will then get intel on vampires from elsewhere to avoid upsetting the ghouls.

A ghoul who was pumped for intel that was used to take down a domitor will quickly burn a vampire hunter’s reputation to the ground with other ghouls and rat the hunter out to the kindred, but a ghoul whose domitor was killed by a vampire hunter using information from elsewhere is less likely to hold it against the hunter. Ghouls are very prickly when it comes to being used by a hunter.

Because of this, ghoul and vampire hunter relations are very political and have to be kept warm by vampire hunters. Vampire hunters need ghouls far more than ghouls need vampire hunters.

Ghouls will sometimes recommend each other as potential fledglings to regnants. Ghouls are just as political in that they want vampires who are sympathetic to their cause and lifestyle in the kindred community, so recommendations are done deliberately with this in mind. Many ghouls are perfectly happy not being vampires, but if a ghoul wants to be vampified, has a great reputation in the ghoul community, and their own regnant won’t Embrace them -- well, the ghouls will pull as many strings as possible to make it happen. That way, they have an “inside source” on kindred and are able to disseminate information to each other on kindred as a whole.

Ghoul society is so overlooked and the potentials are so interesting.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Off Limits (Spencer Reid) #13

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Tag List: @on-my-way-to-erebor​ , @haileymorelikestupid​ , @angryknightstatesmantrash​

NOT MY GIF

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~ 5 months later~

Ava’s wounds had finally healed, and life was getting back to normal. Her and Spencer decided to move in together. So, they weighed out the pros and cons of each of their apartments and it turned out Ava’s townhouse would work better for them. It was still in a good part of town, the space was better than Spencer’s and rent was cheaper. Spencer packed his things that he wanted to bring with him to Ava’s and sold the rest. Ava sold some of her things to make room for his. She didn’t want him thinking he was moving into her place. She wanted it to feel like his as well. So, they did some remodeling, picking out things together to make the place feel like their home. New paint for the walls, new flooring, some small upgrades in the kitchen. It was the start of something new.

Ava was going over her calendar for the month, making sure she had all important dates marked. When she realized the date. Wait, was it really already March 16th? That can’t be right. With everything going on, moving Spencer in, the remodeling, she’d lost track of time. So, the next morning, she left for work before Spencer did and stopped by the pharmacy. When she arrived at work, she was thankful no one was in yet and headed to the bathroom. The next thing that would happen would change her life forever. Her and Spencer’s life forever.

That night at dinner, she was picking at her food. It was grilled mahi mahi, which was her favorite, but right now all she wanted to do was vomit at the smell of it. Spencer had noticed she’d been quiet all day and now she wasn’t touching her favorite. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Hmm? What?” She was pulled away from her daze, looking at him from across the table.

“I said are you okay?” He asked, motioning to her food, “you’ve barely touched your food.”

She nods, “Yeah yeah. I’m great. Sorry, just tired.”

~

A couple days later as soon as she woke up, she felt the urge. She quickly ran to the bathroom and vomited. Spencer had rushed in after her, holding her hair back. “Let it all out…” He softly rubbed her back.

After she was done puking her guts out, she wiped her mouth and flushed the contents down the toilet, “It must have been that mahi mahi I ate last night.” She stood and grabbed a washcloth to wipe her mouth, then brushed her teeth.

“Yeah it must have.” He watched her questionably. She didn’t even eat her mahi mahi last night. She’d left the whole thing on the plate.

~

It was a few days later, when her, Penelope, Morgan, Spencer and Emily went out for dinner. It had become a new Friday night ritual. Penelope and Emily ordered a glass of wine.

“Just a water for me.” Ava said, causing the girls to look at her surprised.

“No wine?” Emily asked.

“oh, honey, are you sick?” Penelope said teasingly.

She laughed it off, “I’d just rather not wake up with another hangover in the morning.”

Spencer wondered what was going on. She would always have a glass of wine if the girls went out with her. A Friday night ritual. Now she wasn’t even ordering one.

~

On Sunday morning, Ava was hanging clothes back up in the closet when Spencer poked his head into the room, “Hey, I’m going to the store. Do you need anything?”

“Nope I’m good.” She replied.

He started to walk out, when she stopped him, “Actually, I’m really craving some of that double chocolate chip brownie ice cream you bought last time. Can you pick up some?” She looked at him smiling.

He nodded and returned the smile, replying, “Of course.” As he turned to walk out of the room, he glanced at the calendar on the wall. There were no pink stars by the first few days of the month, like there usually was. It was already the middle of the month. She hadn’t asked him to buy her feminine products this month. Or last month now that he thinks about it.

~

On Tuesday morning, Ava was on her way to the doctor’s office. When she arrived, they did a check up and took a urine sample. She felt like she’d been in the room lying on the bed for forever. She impatiently tapped her fingers on her stomach. Finally, the doctor knocked and walked in. She quickly sat up ready to hear the news.

“Well. Miss Camp, it is true. You’re pregnant.”

~

How would she tell Spencer? They had just settled into the townhouse. They were making a life for themselves and now a curve ball. They hadn’t been trying and they’d been using protection. However, when she was speaking with the doctor about the timeline of when she could have conceived, there was one Friday night after a little too much to drink with the team, they’d had sex and she doesn’t remember them having any protection. He’d told her would “pull out”, which he did but obviously not soon enough, because now she’s pregnant. She couldn’t help but be excited though. She’d always wanted kids. And she couldn’t think of anyone better to have kids with. It was sooner than she would have liked, but things happen. Plans change.

She had to tell someone. She’d kept the secret bottled long enough. So, after the doctor’s appointment, she headed back to work and went straight to Penelope’s office, knocking and peeking her head in,

“Can I talk with you for a moment?”

Penelope motioned her in, “You may.”

Ava closed the door behind her and sat down, pulling something out of her purse, before handing it to Penelope.

Penelope took it and her eyes went wide, she looked in between the ultrasound pictures and then at Ava, “Oh my god!”

“Shh! Shh!” Ava put a finger to her lips, “No one knows. I just got back from the appointment.”

“It’s Spencer’s, right?” She joked.

Ava laughed and nodded, “Yes, Penelope.”

“Oh Ava.” She smiled and admired the photos, “This is wonderful. Congratulations.”

Ava nervously bit her lip as Penelope handed the photos back, “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Spencer. We’ve just settled into my townhouse and starting a life together… now we’re going to throw a baby into the mix?”

Penelope grabbed her hand to comfort her, “Everything’s going to be fine. It’s Spencer. He’s going to be supportive no matter what.”

Ava nods and rubs her finger along the small bean in the photo, “I want to tell him in a creative way. You think you can help me?”

Penelope smiles, “Why of course! I am the queen of creativity!”

~

The two of them had come up with an idea on how to tell Spencer. So, after getting all the supplies, she executed her plan. It was a couple days later; she’d went home early from work and told Spencer to grab dinner on his way home from work. Chinese to be specific because she was craving it. Before he arrived home, she set everything out on the table. She put the ultrasound photos next to a onesie she had made that said “Mini FBI agent in training” on the front and some little baby converse next to the onesie. She’d saw them in the store while shopping with Penelope and couldn’t help herself.

“I swear that line at the Chinese place was long as hell!” Spencer commented, walking through the front door. He walked over to the table and noticed the things right away.

She nervously bit her lip as she watched him from the kitchen. He slowly put the food down, picking up the picture. He didn’t say a word. He just looked at the photo. It all started to come together for him; the food aversion, the no alcohol at dinner, the morning sickness and her not asking for feminine products. How had he not noticed it before?

His silence worried her. Was he going to freak out? Was he going to leave her to raise the baby on her own? He wouldn’t do that. Would he?

“Spence?” She questioned, walking over to him.

“I… uh… need to go.” He muttered before walking right out the door. He hadn’t even looked up at her.

She looked down at the onesie and shoes. He’d took the ultrasound photos with him and left without saying a word. Ava slowly sat down at the table and started to sob.  

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I told you guys it was going to get better!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. xx 

I finally reached 100 followers! Thank you so much for the support. It means the world! 

[calliecat93]

The time has come at last everyone. After a very rough year and a very tense end to Volume 7, Volume 8 has arrived. I have no idea what to expect this time around except that it’s going to be all out war. I’m scared. You’re scared. We’re all scared. But this is still RWBY, so it can’t get too dark and depressing... can it? Well only one way to find out. I’ve done my post for the opening, but now it’s time to get to the meat. So for the first time this volume, let us begin by reviewing Chapter 1, appropriately titled ‘Divide’.

Overview

We begin with an image of a young woman. A woman who seems to be down on her luck, wearing tattered clothes and scrubbing at the floor by hand. It then cuts to Cinder, clawing at Neo’s chair in the same manor as she directs Neo towards the Whale Grimm. The two enter, revealing the Whale to essentially be a large battleship and waiting in her throne is Salem. Cinder presents the Relic of Knowledge, though she claims the credit for herself which does not amuse Neo. Tyrian is also there, who mocks her for getting outwitted by a bunch of kids to begin with. Salem asks about Neo, who Cinder merely calls a ‘useful asset’.

Emerald, Mercury, and Hazel are also there and with some new duds! Emerald is elated to see Cinder alive, but the Fall Maiden simply silences her. When Tyrian again mocks her for spending her time fixing past mistakes, Cinder is determined to track down Penny and get the Winter Maiden powers. Salem, however, makes it clear that she is not to do s. After all while Cinder is no pawn, she is NOT a player. She is playing Salem’s game, not her own. Cinder concedes, saying that without Salem, she is nothing.

We cut to the slums, where Oscar has taken refuse. But he isn’t alone for long as he is picked up by Ruby, Weiss, and Maria. Oscar feels guilty for trying to talk to Ironwood and how he made all the wrong choices, but Ruby comforts him, saying that all tried to do what was best. The heroes have taken refuge wit the Happy Huntresses, who are running their own operations from within an abandoned bar. The others are relieved that Oscar is okay, but they sadly still don’t know about Qrow. When asked how he got to the slums, Oscar simply says it was a long story, opting to not reveal Ozpin’s return until he has finished talking to him.

Joanna goes to the group, now fully expecting them to work to help Mantle. The plan? Due to the Grimm numbers and the heat being gone, the plan is to take the refuges into the crater below Atlas. It’s dangerous, but it is warm and will allow a singular location where everyone can be watched over safely. Weiss makes a remark about not ever being able to sleep again, a clear humorous quip, but Joanna makes it clear that it’s either work, or be branded as baggage. Yang agrees, saying that they need to help with Mantle. Ruby, however, argues that they need to warn the other kingdoms. Pietro confirms that while not finished, Amity did have significant process made to it. However it needs the green-light from a terminal and aside from the one in Ironwood’s office, the only other one is in the military compound.

Yang, seeing Amity as a lost cause and that not being guaranteed to get help, sticks to her plan. Ruby argues however that Salem is going to attack the other kingdoms once she’s done with Atlas and thus, all fo Remnant is in danger. At this point, Yang addresses that despite following her lead at the start, she feels that Ruby’s lead has... well, gone badly. In other words, she feels that Ruby has failed in her duty. Ruby is clearly hurt by this and Yang starts to explain further, but Ren interrupts, saying that helping Mantle is something that they can do now. Nora however sides with Ruby regarding the larger picture.

With the tension up, Jaune steps in. He suggests that they can simply divide up and do both. Yang and her group assist Mantle, Ruby and her group go and get Amity. Ruby disagrees as this is causing the divide that Salem wants, but Oscar says that working separately doesn’t mean that they are against each other. Penny, who has been quiet and to herself to this point, suggests that she simply give Salem the Relic. But no one believes that Salem will keep her word about backing down and all agree against this.

Thus, the heroes split up. Ruby has Weiss and Blake of course, but to Jaune and Ren’s surprise, Nora decides to also go with them. Penny also goes despite the risk to help the group bypass security. Yang agrees to it, but she makes to leave to do, as she says, what she can. A comment that clearly strikes Blake. Before she goes though, Pietro gives her the keys to the pharmacy so that they can get some of the equipment he had been developing for them. Thus we have Yang, Jaune, Ren, and Oscar in Mantle, while Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Penny, and Nora plan to get up to Atlas.

Ruby is still upset by the split up, but Blake tries to assure her that they are still united. Maria can bring bring Pietro to Amity once it’s retrieved and Weiss has an idea on how they can get to the kingdom. Before she can reveal it however, Penny’s scroll goes off. It’s Ironwood. he asks Penny to come back, claiming that he’s worried for her safety and he needs her for Atlas’ sake. Ruby takes the Scroll, refusing any cooperation unless Ironwood changes his mind and helps Mantle. Ironwood blasts at her for still caring about Mantle when Salem is outside Atlas’ doorstep and a threat to all of Remnant. Whatever happens, he says it will be on Ruby’s hands. Ruby hugs a clearly shaken Penny, but her expression conveys that the general’s words hurt her as well.

Back in Atlas, the remaining Ace-Ops are in a room with Clover’s corpse. Ironwood is watching form another as Winter is receiving treatment for her injuries. She’s given what looks like cybernetic armor pieces, and Ironwood himself has replaced his singed arm with a new cybernetic. He is informed of the prisoners being interrogated and thanks Winter for all she did, but is still tense due to the Grimm horde. When Winter asks what he’s going to do, Councilman Sleet and Councilwoman Camilla enter, demanding to know what Ironwood is doing with his recent actions. Ironwood says that he’s going to do what he has to... no matter the cost. As such, eh steps out and coldly shoots Sleet to death, horrifying not only Camilla, but the Ace-Ops and Winter. Harriet steps out and looks at Winter, but despite their shock, both more or less resign to the fact of this being necessary.

Back at the Whale, Salem has some kind of pod that she opens up. She has questions for the Relic, but first she needs the one who can reveal to her how it works. She holds the Lamp before some kind of slobbering, eyeless Grimm. Her orders? For it to find and bring Ozpin to her, bringing the first chapter of the volume to a close.

Review

Holy crap people... I was expecting tension, but.... damn guys...

Okay, we’ll start with the villains. So... that first scene, huh? Well after years of waiting for it, it looks like we may finally be getting some Cinder focus/backstory. We’ve been waiting a long time, huh? Her scene here really shows a lot. Cinder downplays Neo’s contributions, taking the credit for herself. She cruelly tells Emerald to be quiet, despite having not seen the girl in who knows how long. She still wants the Maiden powers, despite how she has continuously failed not counting the Fall Maiden. The usual smugness and power-hunger that we expect from Cinder is in full force here.

Yet we also have Salem’s words to her. Salem makes it clear that Cinder is a mere chess piece. Which isn’t what Cinder wants. She wants to the the chessmaster. She wants to do what she wants. She is constantly baffled by Salem’s choices. Yet, she continues to submit to the wicked witch. Considering she’s evil Cinderella, it really speaks a lot about Cinder’s mindset. She wants power. She wants control. But she continues to obey someone else in hopes that it gets her what she wants. These two mindsets can’t co-exist forever. I’m not convinced at all of Cinder being redeemed, she’s done far too many cruel things imo. But I do think that by this end of this volume, she’s going to decide what she wants for herself, and whatever it is the path to it likely won’t be pretty especially with how Neo is clearly getting fed up.

So now let’s do Oscar. I... do not like how they did him reuniting with the group. It’s another ‘Oscar is in trouble... oops! No he isn’t!’ psyche out and it’s getting real old. Especially since there’s zero build-up to it. Ruby and the others just... find him. Maybe he called them? I don’t know, there’s no clear indication. But after how dramatic the end of Volume 7 was, having him just reunite with the gang again feels very anti-climactic. I can only assume that they realized that with so much going on, they needed to get it out of the way and do it early, especially with him begin Salem’s target. But I don’t think it was handled the best it could have been.

But we do have Oscar deciding to keep Open’s return a secret. The reason being that he hasn’t finished talking to him yet. Yeah, Oscar’s clearly not 100% okay with what happened prior and wants everything set straight first before he reveals anything. But at the same time... this is Oscar keeping a secret back form the others. And secret keeping is not only what got everyone angry at Oz, but contributed to the current situation. It just... doesn’t come off as the best move to make in this situation. Then again, we don’t know if the heroes are in a forgiving mood, so... it’s hard for me to not understand his reasonings, at least. But it’s gonna have to come out sooner or later, especially since Oscar is short on time.

Then we have the conflict between the heroes. The theme of the volume seems to be division, at least so far. We have Ren and Nora still in conflict. Ren wants to be able to help now, Nora wants to save everyone in Mantle. Volume 7 set it up, and it seems that this one is going to push it even mroe. But then we have Ruby and Yang. While they don’t start yelling, ti is very clear that they are at odds. Same deal, Yang wants to do what can be done now as mantle is in danger. Ruby is concerned about Remnant and the lives of the world and wants to warn the kingdoms. Bit then we have Yang bringing up how things have gone downhill under Ruby’s lead. To be fair, she seems guilty for it and she does try to further explain before Ren interrupts her. But, in essence, it is her saying that she doesn’t trust Ruby’s lead. After putting her faith in her sister fully in V5, the recent events has Yang doubtful.

Not gonna lie... I have been wanting this for a long time. V7 had a lot of hints that Yang in particular was not on the same page as Ruby. She was the one who questioned her lying to Ironwood. It was her who proposed the plan to Blake about revealing Amity to Robyn, also expressing her doubts about Ruby’s choices there. But despite it, she still followed her. But now, with Ironwood’s descent, Yang’s faith is shaken. IDT it’s gone, but it is rocky. I’ve been critical of Yang and have had issues with her decisions, the Amity reveal to Robyn especially. However... I can’t fault her either. She has the right intentions, and her logic about Mantle isn’t wrong. There are people in danger right now. They have the ability to help those people. Saving the lives in immediate danger is important and is their job as Huntresses. I don’t blame Yang at all in her decision and her sticking to it despite Ruby disagreeing.

But I don’t think that Ruby is wrong either. She is right about how Salem will go against the rest of the world as soon as Atlas has fallen. Countless lives are in danger on a global scale. Vacuo, Mistral, Vale, Menagerie, Patch, every character that we have ever known will be at risk unless they are warned. Amity is the best ticket to doing so. Ruby’s drive has always been to save everyone. The Happy Huntresses have the situation under control, so why not focus on the larger picture? It’s the most stressed I think we’ve ever seen Ruby and it’s certainly the first time we’ve seen her upset at Yang like this.  There’s just... no good options really. Either way, someone suffers. War is Hell.

There’s also the fact that as the leader, whether it was directly her fault or not, the heroes failure does rest on her shoulders. She is the leader, that is her burden. it is the burden that she accepted. She was the one who made the call to hide Salem’s immortality to Ironwood. It was her who alerted everyone about the martial law, officially marking the heroes as enemies of Atlas. Now is it her fault? Not fully. Ironwood’s choices are not her fault, but one can argue that had she just told Ironwood the truth upfront, it may not have happened. Ironwood guilts her over this, claiming that whatever happens will be her fault. Now we all know that's bullshit and Ironwood is even more to blame... but the question is if Ruby knows that. Judging her expressions... I’m thinking it’s gonna haunt her.

Then we have Penny. Oh gosh Penny. The poor girl just seems so utterly broken. She’s quiet, to herself, and whenever she does talk it’s in a pained whisper. The girl got framed for murder, and then watched an old woman die and be given her powers. She clearly is at a loss of what to do. She’s ready to sacrifice herself to Salem to save everyone, that is how much n despair this girl is. Then we have Ironwood try88ing to manipulate her into returning to his side. He needs her for Atlas’ safety. he’s concerned for her. It’s all lies, but Penny is concerned about Atlas. She doesn’t want to fight like this. She’s conflicted onw hat to do with this divide. The poor girl just... needs a hug. A lot of them.

Then we have Ironwood. Oh God... Ironwood. I know that he had snapped, but for him to shoot Sleet like he did? With no emotion. In just one motion, he killed a man dead. Someone whose only crime was wanting answers for Ironwood’s actions. The council is in no position of power, they were no threat. Ironwood did it simply because he doesn’t want to deal with them anymore as he said at the end of V7. He’s going to do whatever he deems appropriate to protect Atlas. When all he’s doing is letting fear control him and further seal Atlas’ fate as dead. Like I said in the V7 reviews, Ironwood is at his point of no return. So far, he’s only cementing that position further. His fall was tragic, but now all that remains is a heartless soldier.

We also see the aftermath of Clover’s death and Winter’s injuries. It’s not much, but it tells us a lot. The Ace-Ops leader is dead. No one is happy about it, but especially not Marrow and Harriet. Marrow by far expresses the most sadness in his expression. God I am still hoping that he comes ot his senses. But then there’s Harriet. She is angry. She briefly growls even. She already feels betrayed by RWBY, now in her mind her leader was killed by Qrow. It’s only going to add fuel to the fire with her wanting to take them down. Then we have Winter. She’s in bad shape. She seems to be benched for now, but IDK if that’s gonna last. But to say I’m worried is an understatement. Especially with her noticeable horror at Ironwood killing Sleet. She internalizes it as she has been, but can she continue to do so as Ironwood continues to descent into madness? I’m really hoping not...

Finally, the end scene. So yeah... Salem is targeting Oscar. So it looks like Salem knows what the Relics can do, but she doesn’t know how to make them work. Makes sense, only Ozpin knew. Remember, Oscar found out through the mind-link and told the heroes. Plus of course Salem would want Oscar. After all, she hasn’t seen her former husband in quiet a long time, has she? And we know fully well that she’s going to rub his demise in his face. Oscar is not in for a fun time this volume... then again, is anyone?

There’s a clear seriousness here. Moreso than any volume. Weiss’ quit about sleeping is very quickly shot down. The stakes are at the highest they’ve ever been. It is outright war now. The heroes are on their own. Mantle is in a desperate situation. Ironwood is barley holding out against Salem’s invasion. People who should be allies are divided to the point of no return. While we know from some sneak peaks that the volume won’t be devoid of humor/levity, it’s clearly not going to be the light-hearted fun that we’ve had in the past. Not even Ruby and Penny, two of the most pure-hearted characters in the show, display any of those usual traits. This might as well be the equivalent of Order of the Phoenix, where the kids can only rely on themselves and where everting has gone to Hell. That ended on a bittersweet note and only got darker from there. RWBY works in a  similar ‘grow up with the audience’ approach as Harry Potter, so... yeah... prepare yourselves folks. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

Chapter Two Predictions

I think we’ll be checking in on Qrow and Robyn. Thus we’ll be seeing the interrogations go down (which we saw footage of in the trailer). We’ll also likely see Jaques and Watts. IDK i Ironwood will go to Qrow directly or any of the other Ace-Ops, but it won’t be pretty. Qrow is likely still feeling guilty for what happened, but I absolutely believe that if Ironwood confronts him, he’s going to give him the verbal lashing that he deserves. I’m not when they'll plot a prison break, but I assume it’ll happen sooner or later.

As for the heroes... it’s hard to say. My guess is we’ll be following mainly Team JYRO as they get the equipment from Pietro’s lab. So we might see that clip they showed at SDCC as well as the secret clip of them leading civilians tot he crater from a few weeks back. Which would also mean first fight scene of the volume, yay! We might see RWBNP as well, but I’m not sure. Maybe some villain stuff as well, like maybe we’ll get more hints about Cinder or something minor. Either way, the tension I think will continue forward.

Chapter Stats

Favorite Character: Cinder Fall Favorite Moment: The opening villain scene Least Favorite Moment: Oscar retrieval due to the anti-climax after V7 Favorite Voice Actor: Jen Taylor (Salem) Favorite Animation: The Blind Grimm Rating: 9/10

Final Thoughts

This was an excellent volume opener. The stakes are established right off the bat, along with the tension and character conflicts. This was so good that I didn’t even realize that there wasn’t a fight scene, the first time since Volume 5. Which honestly, we didn’t need one. They had more than enough to kick this volume off. This promises to be a very dark, very intense volume. I am terrified for whatever is coming, but like Hell am I missing it. An excellent start~!