#IF SOMEONE WERE TO CALL ME THAT SERIOUSLY I WOULD FILE A LAW SUIT

[hjh-ceilo-monster]

BTS Song drabble : D - day (MYG)

Summary : In this chasing game, one was at the top, another was at the bottom. To break the hierarchy, there should only be one winner.

The law’s hand 

or 

The outlaw

Who would win?

Photos : All copyright reserved to the owners.

Gif. : Special thanks to @sugajimin​ for further inspo. There’re tiny subtitle that I put to create further engagement and imagination.(I hope so🤞🏽)

Plot : Special thanks to Psych-Hunter(iQIYI) and (Su)R-chwita ep.9😹

Ambience :  1930's Ambient City Soundscape, Vintage City Sounds 

Trigger warning : (quite) detailed violent scene, self-harm, death of characters

This fanfiction is for entertaining purposes. The story has entirely written up from the writer’s imagination from different inspiration. None of this should be taken seriously.

Switch over, time tickin' and over.

Author POV.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

The water drips periodically, acting as an ambience inside the dusty room. 

The owner has been laying on his favourite couch for hours, diving deep into his thought. 

“Hyung!”

His door suddenly bangs open by someone. One of his crewmates runs inside with something in his hand. 

“We...found him...here.” The new comer hands a file, trying his best to get the message through while panting hard.

The owner flutters his eyes open. A stir comes out of his mouth before he finally becomes awake and accepts the paper.

The dark orbs skim through the file, catching the main idea out of the long paragraphs in the contract. At last, his eyes land on the bottom. Seeing familiar names with the signatures under neath them make him annoy.

“Huh? Seems like we need to give him a visit again.”

Clack...Clack..Clack..Clack..

He found out.

The end of a letter makes the man stops his footsteps. The feeling of frustration rises up, however, he can’t act out of his character here. Getting out of the building, he got into his car.

“Head back to the mansion.” He tells the driver.

“And about the case?” 

“I need to get another ‘case’.” 

Understanding what to do, he asks nothing more and leave immediately.

“ 1 beef rice noodle pottage soup, beef pork.” 

Finishing his order, he take a seat near the glass window of the cooking station. Not so long after, his order serves.

“A tough day again, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, ma’am.”

“Quit calling me ma’am, boy. Your my vip customer here. You have been here since 10th grade.”

“Or you want me to call you ajuma?” He asks jokingly.

“Aish, call me what ever you want.” The old lady move back to her station.

Minutes later, his crewmates enter the shop, filling the entire floor. Seeing their boss enjoy his meal, no one dares to utter anything that is work-related. 

“ell e beore I et pis... Ou ares ar oo obious.” *Tell me before I get piss. Your stares are too obvious.* The boss speaks while munching his favourite noodle.

“They’re round the corner, hyung.” Someone finally speaks. 

The man taps his finger as if he applaud himself. Coming here today makes his plans flow. 

“Ma’am, I will come back later.” The man slips his money under the bowl. 

Everyone starts the operation. His crewmates head out of the place and prepare the vehicle for their boss. Some of them go ahead to clear their destination.

“And...I need your chopstick with me. I’ll buy a new pack in return.” He smiles at the owner who say nothing, but sighs and wave a hand as a sign to not do what he purposes.

Phone calls have been hitting on the office’s phone none stop. The police try their best to accept every call and write down the reports, running back and forth.

“People were complaining the same case...I don’t think it’s  a usual case anymore.”

“We need them to handle it.” The cheif tell his subordinates.

Speaks of the devil, the figure appears in the office as if he knows someone call him. The guy in his black suit enters the room. His height is average. However, his aura and the M brooch on his right chest can make everyone who stand in front of him always feels as if they are getting towered by him. 

He is the supreme in this place, if not the supreme in the town.

A walking law.

“Seems like you guys get in some trouble, eh?”  The room falls into a silence, having only phone calls as a background ambience.

“Sir, we got a...” The cheif gathers his courage to explain the situation, but get interrupt by the walkie talkie.

“We found him, sir. Need more people.”

Paying no attention to the cheif, the leader of special crime force says nothing. His natural poker face let no one be able to read the situation. 

“Loud and clear, right? Get your ass up and do your job.” He then heads out.

Flick...Shhh

A smoke comes out from an end of ivory-white cigarettes. He inhales the thin grey fog into his lungs, hoping it will calms his racing mind down a bit.

*Get everything ready.* He orders his right hand man back with his walkie talkie.

Huh...

A grey breath leaves his mouth along with his sighs.

“Seems like the almighty D is also a human.” A bicker from nowhere brakes his thoughts. D lifts his head up to finds the sound source.

“Shut it, Kim. Don’t piss me off even more.”

“Your brother, isn’t it?” Knowing no limit, Kim asks for more information. The man still stays silence.

“Alright, suite yourself.” 

D is by himself again in the silence. His minds is cumalating with plans. 

Shhsshhh...shhhshhh.... “Sir.”

Half and hour ago : @ WNK building

“Where is it?” 

The loud crash echos inside the building. His subordinates are busy taking down their enemy with some help from his buddy.

“Mr.Min...” 

“Speak wisely.” Min grits his teeth as a warning. 

Despite the size different, Min manages to pin down his huge enemy and threat his like a little prey. 

Weehhh...Woohhh...

The police siren comes from afar. His enemy smirks in victory.

“Who knows the genius Min will fall into my trap like a little rat too. Game over, Min.” Now the guy has a guts to speak casually.

“Now your brother will find out. Your big brother will find you.” The guy continues mocking Min, pushing him around emotionally.

“You will...ack.�� Giving no chance to speak further, Min uses his chopsticks and stucks it onto the side of his neck. 

He pushes it deep as the red liquid gushing out like juice. IThe harder he push, the more it errupts out like a fountain. His other hand squeeze the neck tightly as if he is quenching an orange.

Bloody orange.

Min keeps tighten his grip onto the guy’s neck. The fountain is slowing down. Slowly and slowly, it turns into a stream of liquid.  

His shirt now paints with red splashes and spots. The paint leave its marks everywhere even on his face, creating some red blossom tattoos on his skin.

“Oh, you're so artsy.”

“No time for it, Jack.”

“I know, buddy. I get what you want. Let’s head out, yeah?”

The two finally arrive the rooftop. Looking down the building, the see bunch of police enter in with commotion.

“Look how desperate they want to catch us.” 

Min sweep his eyes from the top view. His gaze then land on a familiar black grand mercedes among the cop cars. His mouth lifts into a smirk at the sight, knowing exactly whose it belongs.

“Not really. Someone is more desperate.”

Min replies and climbe down the stairs at the side. 

“Eh, eh, wanna get caught? Eh, man.” Jack yells from a far, but Min has already gone half way through.

Plop.

“Let’s tease you a bit.”

D POV.

“No one inside.”

I stares at my subordinate. The young man stands there like statue, uttering nothing more.

“Where is the case?” I ask.

I don’t care much about the destruction of the building or the death of people inside. Fuck it, that isn’t my problem.

What I wants is the bag and a thing inside it.

I was planning to not invovle police. Moving around from the inside without making their suspicion was quite hard. It took me a few years I was to hold the power. 

A rat out of nowhere managed to get the case was out of my plan.

And now my brother get it.

“Retreat.”

I jumps into driver seat and drift his car out of the parking slot. Frustration fills me up, urging to explode. I roar the engine, filling its sound in the empty street.

“Brother, you won’t be free much longer.”

Min POV.

Thud!

“That bastard. He really bet his life on this plan.” I drop the bag onto the coffee table.

“Chill. At least, you get it.” Jack speaks nonchantly and lit his cigarrete. He sways his head from side to side while humming.

Cling...cling...cling...

“Uh, I hate it. Why do you still wear that silly hat? Those bells irritates me.”

I point at the tips of his knitting hat with two spike at each end. The man sways his head even faster.

“This. You know it’s my lucky charm. So what’s next?”

Jack changes his position. Sitting with his feets cross on my coffee table, he cocks his head to the side. I stare back at him, replying nothing. I let the silence grows and engulps our conversation.

“Hyung. We...sorry, sir.” My right hand, who bangs the door open as his habit, enters the room with another file.

“I think I might need to speed things up. Now I get the case. He will soon make his move.”

“You mean...kill you?” Jack smiles. 

“Not yet. He still needs it.” I pat the stuff on a wooden table. 

As my eyes meets him Jack’s smile gets wider. 

“Then I shall act my part.”

Author POV.

Uhhh....hmmmm.....uhhhh...hhhhmmmm......

Min sleeps soundly in his favourite place. The tiring day drains him a lot of energy, leaving the man a few muscles sourness. 

Ahhhh!

Bang! Bang!

The guy wide awakes from the sound. The screams and shouts are getting louder. He is about to stand up, however the ropes around his hands prevent him to do so.

Click.

A revolver taps behind his neck. He can feel the cold metal rubs gently against his skin before it forecfully press back onto the spot.

“Have a sweat dream?” A chill voice comes from behind.

“Should I be glad that we finally meet again?” Min answers back with a little cockiness.

“You sure want your head to be blown off.”

“And you are talkative, not like a usual you.” Min turns himself and grab a gun near him, but he meets with empty pocket.

“Oh, I borrow your rovolver by the way. I know if you die, at least you will love to die with this cutie.”

D walks around the tub for a moment, searching his eyes through the room. 

“So this is where you live. So shabby and poor...like you.” 

D grabs a plastic chair from the corner of the room and take a seat. He stares down his brother with the eyes of disgusted. 

“Rustic and cozy, isn’t it?”

Crossing his leg, D takes out his cigarrete and lit it. He wraps his lips and inhales a bitter scent from it a few times before he continues.

“Now, let’s make a deal. Those stacks of money are all yours. Just give me the case and leave this place. I’ll handle everything. You can live you life far away from here and me in...”

Min lift his hands, interrupting his brother’s talk. Despite the bond around his wrists, he reaches out and grab onto the white stick. He watches the little flame in silence, the sentences after turns muted as he pays no attention to them. 

Puff....

He throws the stick toward the shelf. The flame lits in a blink of an eye. Min give no care at those ‘valuable’ papers in front of him. Now they are burning bright red and blue. 

He thinks this is more beautiful.

“You...bastard....” D grits his teeth in anger. Now he grabs onto Min’s neck firmly.

“Tell me where’s the case.” He demand. Min keeps his poker face and answers nothing, pissing his brother further more.

“What you gonna do? Kill me?” Min smiles delightfully.

Running out of patient, D uses the revolver and knockes him off.

??? POV.

“Hyung, wake up. Hyungie...don’t be like this.”

The voice comes from somewhere far away. However, the tone sounds familiar to me. 

Beepp...Beeppp...Beeeeeppppp....

The loud noise that rings in my ears is so annoying. 

What is going on here?

I try to open my eyes, but something stop me. I don’t know whether it is me or literally someone who stop me to do so. My body gets heavier and heavier.

I am drowning or so I thought.

My body sink down into the ocean, deeper and deeper. I feel a force strangle me around my neck, suffocating me alive.

No...am I even alive?

D POV.

I have been waiting for my brother’s news for a day.

That little rascal was strong enough to go through ‘drowning’, but he hasn’t woke up yet since yesterday.

“Ah...I want to kill you so bad.” I mumble.

The dagger in my hand trails up and down in motion. I make it nice and clean this time, no defect mark on its pure silver skin.

“Master, He’s awake.”

Puck.

“Nice. It’s getting boring here.” I pluck my beauty onto the table.

Sadly, I can’t use her. Like I said before, to send him back home, the least I can do is to use his pretty revolver.

I am trying to be considerated, am I not?

Min POV.

Hahhh...Huhhhh...

The fire lits around the corner. In front of me is a barrel full of water, reflecting my face. There are a few scratch with the blood seeping through.

I squint my eyes to focus the scenarios around me. The place look oddly like somewhere in my memory, but in a dusty and old version. My brain storms some idea to form an answer.

Soon, I get the answer, but from him.

“Look like my little boy didn’t remember this place.” I look up and meet his brown orbs, the scar on his right eyes fades a bit, but still visible.

“You give me the scar and try to kill me once here, remember?”

A flashback runs inside my head like a reel. The man with exact looks except his hair that was longer and blond-color. The scene is overlaping each other. 

There’s me.

There’s is him. 

In a different timeline...

The palace that used to be vibrant with colors now became dull, towering my body with it shadow.

His men pin me down to the cold muddy floor, letting him look at me with those arrogant gaze. 

Smile in victory, the man finally got up from his seat and approached the balcony. 

The man was in a traditional robes. His light blond hair sparked under the moonlight. The fire around him and me make him more visible to my eyes.

“I am the owner of this place, engrave it into your skull, peasant.” 

His hand waved down, motioning his assassin to do the job. 

Author POV.

“I cut heads of people for a reason, you know. That’s how I can make sure they died...painlessly.” 

D steps onto the circle. Grabbing tight onto Min’s hair, he force the man to sink down into a barrel again.

Ackk...ack....

“Wah...that sounds so satisfying.” He forcefully raises the head up from the water.

“How was it?”

The man who calm and collect is nowhere to be found. The true color finally comes out,. D laugh out in madness, satisfying with the scene in front of him.

“When I offered you, I’ve already got what I want. You were a fool to not accept my offer, brother.” 

D stepps back and walks up to another circle, preparing to watch Min’s final moment. Waving his hand down, the assassin get ready to do his job.   

“Now, execution.”

The man forces Min’s head back into dirty liquid again, wanting to drown him to death. Min’s body stuggle as his hands try to get out of the knot. 

“Sink deep and fake your death. The revolver is at the bottom.”

“a..ack?” *Jack?*

“I can only help you this much, buddy. I even take off my lucky charm for you.”

Min does according to Jack’s plan. Sinking himself deep into the cylinder and stopped moving, he successfully fakes his death. 

“Oh, faster than I expect.” 

With the revolver in his hand, D steps down from his circle to come and onspect Min’s body. Seeing the guy freezes in his place, D laughs again with contentment. 

He takes out a ruby human-heart.

Bang! Cling!

The glass shatters.

D crashes down the fire barrels, letting the oil slatter all over the place while the fire chase down the thick black liquid. He throws his lighter, adding more fire.

“Switch over, time tickin'...”

“but not over.” 

Just then Min raises his head up with the revolver in his hand. Aiming at the head of his brother, D does nothing, but smirk.

“Agust, you shouldn’t underestimate me.” 

“If you kill me without the hear, it will be the same result like last time.”

“Let’s bet then.” Min pulls the trigger.

The ruckus at the back of them appears, however Jack’s men are faster. Doing everything according to their bosses’ plan, his men has already mixed in the group from the beginning. Agust’s people soon end up laying lifeless on the floor.

Agust dashes to Min in anger, but someone lock him from behind. His own right hand man lock tight onto the master before revealing himself.

“Ack...Kim.”

“I told you, didn’t I...suite yourself.”

Jack takes out the real heart and shatters it with his dagger.

Cling!

Click.

Bang! 

Agust doesn’t last long.

“Switch over, time tickin' and over.”

“Dr.Kim, when will he wake up?” Hoseok asks the doctor. It has been a year since Yoongi fell into a coma.  

“His personality disorder is critical, now they are inflicting themselves.”

He have hidden his mental condition so well that not even Hoseok, his best friend, knew about it. When he knew everything, it was nearly too late. 

The man nearly cut himself...in his own eyes.

Hoseok took him to hospital. Thankfully, Kim Namjoon, the doctor of his case, was still working. If not because of him, Yoongi would be gone by now.

Hmmm....

A little stir makes both of them look at the body. It is the first time that the lifeless figure makes a move or a noise. 

Hoseok’s eyes brims with tears of hope, looking back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. 

“Hyung...” Hoseok calls softly.

Namjoon walks to the monitor and checks the screen. 

Like a miracle, everything comes back to the normal rate. Namjoon notes down everything onto his metal clipboard before he calls nurses inside. 

“Doctor...he...”

Surfacing from the bottom of the darkness, Yoongi finally gains his conscious.

A/n note : And that’s it everyone. I hope you enjoy the story. I finally have a little vacation so here is the tribute for you guys. 

This is the first time I write my story with y/n. Hope you guys not disappointed.

Before ending this, I want to give a few explanation to the story.

After listening to the interview, what I comprehended from the music videos was that Yoongi were fighting with his own personas. Like Namjoon said, he was the only one so far with 3 names. And, the fact that Yoongi devided his personalities accordingly to them made it sometimes difficult for himself to make music.  “If I make it, will this represent suga bts, agust d or me as Yoongi?”

Sum up events : Yoongi faced personality disorder to the point he went into the coma due to self-infliction. His personas, D (The dark past with anger and agressiveness) and Min (The real yoongi), fought over to control the body during Yoongi unconscious inside his mind. The ruby human-heart like that made out of glass was the core, the conscious. Destroying it mean you kill the consious of that persona. Different timelines, I came up with this idea from daechwita, thinking what if he failed to mute (killed) the tyrant king back then. Looking it in that aspect, personally, I think it somehow fit the explanation of Yoongi’s triology. Letting the strong and fury persona control you to handle hate and prejudice, but at the same time, you were the one who deepen your own scars. What if it is getting out of control?

I wrote this story with a retro vibe because of the Haegeum’s settings. From the research I’ve read, the location was age around 1930 - 1960. Starting in 30s, the market hit its peaks around 40s - 50s before the fire incident in 60s. If I was wrong, I sincerely apologized for the mistakes.

Jack and Kim in the story, I used the image of Hoseok from Jack in the box album and Namjoon from Sexy Numkin. I saw a twitter about what if the three cross path. I didn’t capture the account nor remembered the name. If the idea owner come and see this, I apologize for not crediting you on the top of my ff🙇🏽‍♀️

I think that’s all. Thank you for your attentive reading, see you next session.

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts:  Pero

Pero Tovar might meet the woman of his dreams, if he can make himself trust a mysterious visitor.  My  Writer Wednesday thingy.  I am tagging @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings:  No smut, a little kissing, eating but it’s Tovar so the pace of that is quick, the S/O is female blank canvas.  I think there is cursing.  Not beta’d — I should be working on something else but this bit me hard, and there may be a second part with Max Phillips.  I have this idea of connecting each story and telling several tales but you know how speedy I write stuff.  So if there are any mistakes, I am sorry.  Basically wrote this and did not read it over even.

Pero’s dreams were sometimes horrible things.  

Sometimes he dreamt of monsters surging over a wall.  Of death and blood, of his sword, or his axe, slicing through men and beast.

Sometimes he dreamed of the wide sky of the desert, the starts shining bright, almost as numerous as his regrets.

And sometimes.  Sometimes.  He dreamed of you.  It filled him with such longing he would wake to the alarm clock’s cry to realize his face was wet with tears.

But, he would put on his suit (wool or polyester, not leather and metal) fill his satchel with the armor of his craft (law briefs, good pens, post it notes) and step out into the world.

He would look for you.  He would look for you on buses.  In bars.  Sometimes he would think, “If I were her, where would I go?”  And he would find himself in libraries.  Museums.  Once he took High Afternoon Tea at a Victorian style house, a dark, grumpy shadow alone at his pwn table, surrounded by ladies wearing fancy borrowed hats and gossip.

The one place he never wanted to see you was the other side of his desk, and so far he had lucked out.  He was a public defender, and the people who came to his door were almost always desperate.

Almost always.  The woman across from him was not.  Steel grey hair in a chignon, cool dark eyes that seemed to be able to read everything about him, a story in every wrinkle, in the scar over his eye, in the silver in his hair.

“We’ve been here before, you and I.”

She said it so seriously, he took it as such…looking at his pile of files.  “Have we?  Forgive me, I have a lot of cases…what is your name, again?  My secretary wrote it down, but it smudged.”

She placed a hand over his, stilling his search.  “I know how you got the scar over your eye.  The first time.  And the second.”

He shivered, pulled his hand away.  “What are…”

“You dream of the Great Wall of China.  You dream of monsters with scales and monsters who are men.  Sometimes the monster is you.”

His back straightened as his heart started to race.  “Lady…”

She folded her hands on her lap.  “I know your dreams because they are not dreams.  You helped me, once.  You could have demanded payment, but you did not.  You told me such stories.  Stories about the endless desert.  About your friend William.  And about her.”

He looked in her eyes.  “You are not yourself.  Let me call a friend — we have social services in this building, they can find you someone to talk to, to help you.”

She stood with an amused smile.  “You didn’t believe me last time, either.  But my people…we always pay our debts.  I will not rest until I have paid mine.”  She leaned forward and whispered your name in his year, like a lullaby, like a promise, and his hand, hovering over the phone on his desk, froze.

She threw a card down on his inked over desk calendar.  “If you want me to help you find her, come here tonight.  Dress nice.  Surely you have something better than that suit.”

He picked up the card.  Writing appeared, an address, in shimmering emerald.

It wouldn’t rip in half.  If he folded it, it popped back, pristine.

It wouldn’t fall into the trash — it stuck to his fingers like tape.

But it would slip into his breast pocket, where it burned throughout the day.

Pero’s after work plans were boring as usual.  A new Thai place opened up on the way home, all beautiful paint and murals.  He thought, maybe, maybe you would like it.  He stood in the doorway, he looked at the people within.

You know where she might be, a voice reminded himself, the card burned.  

He backed out.  “Fuck it.”  He muttered.  “Subway is good enough.”

He ate quickly, hunched over his food in his green and yellow booth.  He was angry.  He hated being manipulated, he hated the idea that his life, his dreams were all a game to some white haired woman who thought being mysterious was cute.  Well.  He’d show her.

He threw out the wrapper and stomped out the door,

He slumped in his car and looked at the GPS.  The card burned in time with his heartbeat.  He took it out.  “If I can’t find the address in the GPS, I’m going home, having a beer, and calling tomorrow off.”

The GPS found the address before he even typed most of it in, and the card flashed in his hand, as if saying, “I told you so.”

“Fine.”  He said, pulling in his seat belt.  “But I’m not getting dressed.”

He did check his teeth in the mirror, take off the tie and unbutton a few buttons, fix his hair, chew a couple of Altoids…

And drove.

It was dark, by the time he got there.  One window like a gold beacon.  “Not exactly the place I’d go to make all my dreams come true.”  He muttered.

Well, not the GOOD dreams, anyway.

He climbed up on the porch.  A man with short hair in an immaculate business suit that cost more than Pero’s whole wardrobe was seated at a card table.  The Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Spades face up before him.  He stared at them like a man trying to decide which chalice was poison.

Pero stood over him a moment.  The other man glanced up.  “She’s inside.”

“What are you doing?”

The other man placed his hands on either side of the Queen cards.  “Trying to choose.”

“Between?”

He smiled a little, his lower lip catching on a fang.  “Life and death.  Go on in.  She;s waiting for you.”

Pero grunted and opened the door.  

“Be kind to her,”. The other man’s voice added softly.  “She’s a good woman.”

He walked down the hall, looking into room as he passed them.  The place was like some screwy version of the TARDIS and was much, much bigger on the inside.  He passed three libraries.  A gallery.  A room with a pool table and another room with a pool.

And there, in the last room was a cozy parlor where two women sat talking.  One of them was the stern woman with iron colored hair.

And one of them was you.

“Pero!”  You almost knock over the table in your excitement.  He held out his arms, shaking, and you plowed right in.  “I thought you were a dream!  I thought you were nothing but a dream!”

He gathered her close, trying to focus past the sudden blurriness in his eyes.  “I never stopped looking.  I didn’t know if you were real but I couldn’t make myself stop looking.”

The woman at the table smiled.  “One debt down.”  

He ignored her, looking down into your eyes.  Your hands came up to gently trace his cheeks, to wipe away the tears.  You beamed at him.  “You are the most beautiful thing in the world,”

“Kiss me,” You whisper.  “I have waited far too long…”

And he did.

The clock started to toll.  “Midnight.  Good.  Take her hand, Pero, and take her out of here…and don’t look back.  Take the stupid vampire with you, if he’s not already left.”  The grey haired woman started pushing them out.  The hall was shorter.

“Th…”. Pero starts to say, wanting to thank her for her help, for bringing you to him.  The older woman pushes him hard.  “No.  No thanks.  No more debts!”

“I…I understand your kindness.”

“That was good!”  You say.  “I like that better than what I said to her, earlier…”. You both step out onto the porch.  “Where’s Max?  Max is my boss.  I don’t know why she called him a vampire…he’s very nice.”  

It’s empty.  Good.  “I don’t know, but he had his own troubles to think about.”  Pero pushes you into the car.  “Close your eyes, sweetheart.”  He says.  “I do not want you to be taken away from me…I do not know how this miracle happened, but I will follow the rules.”

He turned the car around with his eyes closed, hoping that his memory of the wide drive being surrounded by grass was true.  Good.  The car did not hit anything, and soon they were heading down the driveway.  

“Are you hungry?”  He says a moment later.  Your hand is curled in his, and he feels lighter than he’s ever felt.  “I know a great place that’s open late…”

“Take me home.”  You say, instead.  “I want to sit up late and find out everything about you.”

“I want to do everything at your pace,” he says, as she types her address into the gps.  “But I don’t need to wait.  I know perhaps once you get to know me you’ll think the dream far better than reality, but…”

She touched his face.  “But it’s a dream we’ve both had for a long time. We will have to be sensible.”

“Of course.”

“We don’t want family and friends to be like, who the hell is that?  Are you out of your mind?”

He laughed.  Snagged your hand again so he could kiss it.

“But I won’t ever let you go.  I did it once.  But I will never, ever do it again.”

[c4pricornc4ts]

Where'd the Hours go? - Chapter 3 Dadschlatt College Au

Read it on ao3 here or on my wattpad here!

Other Chapters: 1 ✧ 2 ✧

WARNINGS FOR: Implied Child Neglect, Smoking, Swearing

The toddler was dressed in an oversized green button down that- from the looks of it, was buttoned by the boy himself given that it's uneven. Everything looks so big on him and his hair is a mess. There's a red pacifier in his mouth and he's looking at Schlatt with wide brown eyes.

He's handed a black garbage bag. "What- why did you bring up trash? The bins are outside."

"It's not trash." Leslie nods to Tubbo. "It's his belongings."

Schlatt wakes up to the smell of smoke. He’s fairly confident Quackity did something stupid to set it off but he still hurries to check. He needed to be awake anyways to finish baby proofing the apartment for inspection.

The ram confirmed his suspicions when he saw Quackity in an apron he didn’t even know he owned waving away smoke coming from a pan with something so burnt Schlatt couldn’t even tell what it was.

“Y’know just knocking on my bedroom door would wake me up, no need to try and burn the damn apartment down.”

“Who knew following Ranboo’s cereal video could go so poorly?”

“That was CEREAL?” Schlatt turns back to his soon-to-be shared room, it was too early to figure out how his friend managed that. Though he’s sure there’s a good story behind it.

He gets dressed and goes to clean up the living room, Quackity focusing on trying to fix whatever crime he committed in the kitchen. They talk while they pick up, Quackity telling him what was happening in law school and Schlatt telling him about how he fell up the stairs.

“You fell UP the stairs?”

“Yes, up the stairs. Do you even listen to-”

They freeze when there’s a knock at the door. Quackity going over and shoving him towards it with a whispered “Charm her.” Before the duck makes himself scarce but thankfully, still in sight if Schlatt should need him.

He opens the door, and looks up at the woman who he assumes is the same one over the phone and steps aside to let her in.

“I’m Leslie, we spoke over the phone, yes?” She holds out her hand, shifting her clipboard further into her side.

He stares at her outstretched hand for maybe too long before realizing he’s supposed to shake it. “Yeah, I’m Schlatt that’s- that’s Alex.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Quackity asks from the kitchen, opening several cabinets looking for the cups. He opens Schlatt’s liquor cabinet and freezes, looking back at him sheepishly mouthing ‘sorry.` towards Schlatt

Schlatt tries to laugh it off, turning back to Leslie who just checks something off on her paper.

“Put a lock on it and you’re fine.” She keeps walking around, telling them a few things they might want to do. Things neither of the boys would’ve thought of like covering the open outlets.

She finishes looking around and all three of them sit at the kitchen table, the social worker passing over a custody form and a file.

“By signing this you’ll be granting custody of Tubbo, the form just needs you to promise you’ll put him in a school and allow the system to make house visits.” She passes him a pen while Quackity takes the manila folder and opens it.

“So Ms. Leslie, tell me what I’m looking at here.” Quackity has his nose almost touching the paper trying to read the small text. At the top is a small black and white photo paper clipped to the page.

“It’s nothing bad, as you can see it’s not very full. Just a few notes about his behavior and his birth certificate.” She reaches over and points at the section labeled ‘Additional comments’ “We’re not sure if he can speak, he has screaming fits over seemingly nothing, and is incredibly shy.”

“What do we do if he really can’t talk?” Schlatt pushed the forms back to her, scooting his chair towards Quackity so they could look at the file together.

“You won’t need to worry about that, he’s been through a lot. He most likely just needs some stability. Somewhere where he feels safe enough to express himself.” She puts the now signed form on her clipboard and stands up. “He just needs someone to make him feel loved, then if that doesn’t work we’ll talk about speech therapy.”

Quackity takes the small photo of Tubbo and puts it on the fridge. “Oh my god Schlatt he has little horns!”

Schlatt walks over to the fridge to get a closer look. Sure enough, even though it’s the grainiest picture he’d seen, the horns were clearly poking through the toddlers head. A hand in his mouth and wide eyes looking right at the camera, the resemblance was there.

“Poor kid, must’ve hurt to get those so early.” It hurt him to know he wasn’t there to help his kid through the painful process of growing horns.

“Remember in middle school when I had to bring you your homework because your horns were always hurting?”

“Don’t remind me.” He shuddered at the thought. He’d rather have a migraine everyday then ever go through the pain of growing horns again.

“I’ll bring him by tonight if that’s alright with you?”

“That’s great, we’ll be here.” Schlatt walks her to the door, they add each other into their respective contact lists before she’s headed back down the apartment stairs.

“She can have him here by tonight? Wow, same day delivery.”

“Didn’t you know? CPS is partnered with Amazon these days.”

“Wait, really?” Quackity slams the fridge closed and looks behind him towards Schlatt.

“No, not really, Dumbass.” Schlatt shakes his head and goes to put Tubbo’s file in the designated important stuff drawer. He hears Quackity shuffling behind him, zipping up his bookbag.

“Oh. Well this dumbass needs to go to class.”

“You’ll be done by tonight right?” Of course the duck would fail to mention he had law school today. Schlatt feels a surge of guilt when he thinks about how much stress he must be causing Quackity. He’s already balancing streaming and school, now Schlatt’s gone and dragged him into this mess as well.

“ ‘Course I will be, gotta meet my new godson.” Schlatt hands him his glasses and he’s out the door with a wave and another promise to be home to see Tubbo tonight.

Schlatt sits on the living room couch, editing a video on his laptop. His hands itch for a cigarette but he really doesn’t want a social worker to smell that on him. That’d be responsible of him, right?

He finishes a new jackbox video and passes out on the couch, only to be woken up by Quackity tossing his unreasonably heavy backpack at him. He wheezes and throws the backpack off his stomach, the books inside hitting against each other with several thuds.

“Judging by how you're sleeping right now, I guess Little T isn't here yet."

"We’re not calling him 'Little T' it doesn't even make sense. It implies there's a big T and last I checked there's only a big Q and a Big man. No T." He sits up fully, putting his elbows on his legs and leaning into his hands. He feels the couch dip as Quackity sits next to him.

"When he's big, he'll be big T, but right now he's little. So… little T."

"I'm not calling him that."

"Suit yourself."

He keeps his eyes closed, and listens to the sound of Quackity turning on the television. He never knew what the duck would play, it was always something different and usually chaotic.

The sound of one of Quackity's intros begins to play and Schlatt laughs and pushes a smug Quackity off the couch.

"Give me that remote, you've lost youtube privileges."

Schlatt leans over the couch and reaches for the remote the now floored Quackity is keeping away from him.

"My videos are not bad, and I will in fact be showing Tubbo every single one of them as soon as he gets here."

He pins Quackity's right arm and grabs the remote. He starts to laugh when he falls off the couch, joining Quackity between the coffee table and the couch.

He grips the remote tightly, careful to keep the remote close to him so the duck couldn't snatch it back. They're both sitting on the floor, facing each other with their knees against the couch base.

It's one of Quackity's older videos, Schlatt lets it play.

Another roblox raid video is about to begin when there's a knock at the door. Schlatt turns off the TV and brushes off his clothes before rushing to answer.

"Hello again." He smiles when he sees the face of the same woman that had come by earlier. He looks down and his eyes widen when he sees Tubbo.

The toddler was dressed in an oversized green button down that- from the looks of it, was buttoned by the boy himself given that it's uneven. Everything looks so big on him and his hair is a mess. There's a red pacifier in his mouth and he's looking at Schlatt with wide brown eyes.

He's handed a black garbage bag. "What- why did you bring up trash? The bins are outside."

"It's not trash." Leslie nods to Tubbo. "It's his belongings."

Quackity comes up to the door. He looks at the trash bag and then to the toddler. "I mean, not what I was expecting but really what was I thinking? Not like he'd have a suitcase."

Schlatt takes the makeshift bag and sets it against the crib in his room.

He walks back out to see Leslie now holding Tubbo against her hip talking to Quackity.

The duck is nodding very seriously and copying the way the woman has her arms. Schlatt is confused about what they're doing till she carefully passes Tubbo to Quackity. His smile reaches his eyes when he manages to not drop the boy.

Tubbo doesn't seem as happy to be held, he's leaning away from Quackity and reaching for Leslie. Whining, and clearly very nervous.

Schlatt couldn't blame him, Quackity wasn't known for being careful with anything. He'd be nervous too in the toddler's situation.

"Careful with my kid, I don't want him to get dropped and then never want to be held again before I even get the chance." He walks past Quackity and Tubbo, headed towards the door. Leslie follows him.

“If it’s too much, you can always give him up.” She looks so serious Schlatt can’t look her in the eyes anymore. “Do what’s best for him, don’t let pride keep him somewhere that isn’t meeting his needs.”

Schlatt wonders if this woman was just that good at reading people or if she gives this speech to everybody. He lies through his teeth when he tells her he’d never be too proud to make the right decision. Everyone who has ever met him will tell you he thinks only with his ego.

She leaves, and as soon as he closes the door he lets out the breath he was holding and goes back to the kitchen.

“He’s light, I read that two year olds were hard to carry.”

“Maybe you’re just strong.”

Quackity readjusts so Tubbo is further up his hip. “You know that’s not true. Should we be worried he’s this light?”

Schlatt reaches his hands out, Quackity awkwardly passes Tubbo over to him. He’s no longer whining but rather is just staring at them both with wide eyes.

“Hey buddy, I know it’s a lot to take in.” He pats Tubbo on the back. “What about some dinner? Get you weighing more with a grilled cheese.”

With the help of Quackity they get Tubbo situated in the tiny booster seat. The duck sits next to the boy, handing a small stuffed animal to keep him occupied while Schlatt cooks.

He makes one for each of them and adds some fruit on the side, setting it down in front of the two before going to sit across from them.

Quackity cuts Tubbo’s into smaller bits while the toddler watches with his hand in his mouth. When Quackity finishes he takes his hands away but Tubbo makes no move to eat on his own.

Schlatt and Quackity exchange a look before the duck picks up a small piece and brings it up to Tubbo’s mouth. Gently prying the toddler’s hand away from his mouth.

Tubbo refuses to eat it. Turning away and putting his hand back in his mouth.

“I promise it tastes better than it looks, I only burned it a little bit.” Schlatt encourages him, before reaching over and taking a small piece of Tubbo’s sandwich and eating it. “See? Now you.”

Tubbo smiles a little but continues to suck on his fingers instead. Quackity and Schlatt continue eating thinking of what to try next. He didn’t want to force the kid to eat it, maybe he just didn’t like that food. Kids can be picky.

“What about some juice? Or-or some apple slices?” Quackity finishes his sandwich and goes over to the fridge taking out an apple and a caprisun.

“Quackity is offering you one of his favorite drinks, you should feel honored Tubs.” Maybe the little ram does, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling when all he does is stare.

The apple is sliced and placed infront of him and Quackity opens the caprisun before his phone rings. “It’s Karl, I forgot I’m supposed to record with him today. Shit, hold on you two.” He goes to his room, leaving Schlatt alone, sitting across from his kid.

He stares at Tubbo, leaning back and folding his hands on the table. They stare at each other for a moment before Tubbo takes his hand out of his mouth and starts to cry.

Schlatt walks over to him and picks him up out of the seat. “No no no don’t do that don’t uh- don’t cry please?” He bounces him and pats his back but it doesn’t seem to help. The kid buries his head on Schlatt’s shoulder and sobs, and Schlatt cringes from the feeling of his slimy hands on his arm and the noise.

“Oh my god, Quackity!”

Quackity rushes out and relaxes when he sees there’s no danger. Besides the idiot in front of him. But he’s more of a danger to himself. “Maybe he’s bored? I’d cry too if I had to just sit and stare at your ugly face.”

“Bro what the fuck?”

“Just put on some of those weird kids youtube videos! Babies cry, Schlatt. It's like- 90% of what they do.”

And that’s how Schlatt ended up on the couch, watching one of those baby sensory videos with a sniffling toddler who still hadn’t eaten a damn thing.

There’s a rainbow bouncing across a black background with some soft music and for a moment Schlatt finds himself just as immersed in it.

Tubbo’s hand is back in his mouth and Schlatt notes he needs to get him something to chew on later, but for now, the poor kid needs a tissue. He leans over to the coffee table to grab one, careful not to disturb the toddler who is currently clinging to his side like a koala.

He wipes his nose, with thankfully no protest from Tubbo. Before taking another tissue and gently wiping the tear tracks away. “It’s gonna be okay, it’s- it’s okay kid.”

Tubbo puts his head against Schlatt's side, and Schlatt props his feet up on the coffee table. Getting comfortable before leaning his head back on the couch.

By the time Quackity was done recording with Karl, which was quite the struggle to do on his laptop, Schlatt and Tubbo were both asleep on the couch. He considers waking them up, but he really didn’t want Tubbo to cry again. So he brings the untouched fruit over to the living room and turns off the TV before bringing his laptop out to the couch and editing quietly next to the two.

He calls it a successful day, after all everyone was alive, right?

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-5)

Word count: 5.5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​ I love you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Y/N! Y/N, open the door!”

You hurriedly stepped out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and a towel wrapped around your waist.

Kevin was standing in front of the bathroom, not even a little concerned about the state of your dressing. 

“We’re taking bets about whether it will rain this week or not,” he announced. “You have to cast your vote.”

You looked around the room. Meg’s door was locked from the outside which meant she wasn’t here.

“Who let you in?”

“I have a key to your apartment,” he said matter of factly. “So does Cas.”

“Vaguely concerning, but I’ll allow it, since you’re not trying to rob me. Only tempting me with the vices of gambling.”

Kevin looked delighted at the retort. “Aha! So you do have a cutting edge humour. I’m winning 5 bucks over that from Jack.”

You rolled your eyes and walked into your bedroom, finding your drawstring pants and pulling them on.

“If it makes you feel any better, you now have a key to our apartment also as well as Cas’s.” Kevin jerked his head towards the kitchen counter where a new pair of brass keys shone in the light. “On this floor, we all like to keep the keys handy in case of emergencies.”

He plopped down on the sofa. “So about the rain…”

It looked like he really had broken into your apartment to ask for your bet.

“It’s September. It’s never going to rain,” you said.

“And you’re sure about that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Should I be checking the weather forecast? And how much are we playing for?”

“You can check the forecast,” he said sagely, “It’s allowed. I have to warn you though that basing your vote off it has proven disadvantageous in the past. And we’re not playing for money.”

“Do I get to know who sided with what?”

“Not till you’ve put your bet in.”

“Dang it!”

He wiggled his eyebrows making you laugh. “Okay. I’m sure. I’ll go with what I said. It’ll not rain.”

“Oh, and Y/N-” he smiled evilly- “You should know that if it rains, you’re going to have to get wet in it! You have Pam, Cas and Jack siding with you so far.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of drenching in the rain. “It’s not going to rain, so I’m safe. What happens if I get it right?”

“The losing party has to be a company to judgy Judy and sun bath all of Sunday. Lotion will be provided.”

“This is ridiculous,” you laughed.

He stopped at the door. “Only when you lose.”

You spent the weekend catching up on your reading and familiarising yourself with the syllabus. When that was done, you set to work on your assignments… and when that was done, too, there were always job applications. Sustenance was unfortunately a necessity.

Come Sunday evening, Meg dragged you to the downstairs to the get together. It surprised you just how much everyone liked having you around, especially since you contributed absolutely nothing to the conversations. Pam pulled an accurate impression of the undergrads on the second floor and everyone laughed. 

It was a homely feeling.

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

Sam was already ready and going through the papers on his desk when you entered the lecture hall. He did not look up from them as the class slowly filled up. You didn’t necessarily make it a point to sit with Madison but somehow for most Civil Procedure classes she happened to sit next to you. You liked her well enough, however those girls who came with her said such awful things sometimes that it made you wish you were anywhere but around them.

Today Madison came in before any of the girls and took her seat next to you. 

“Hi,” she said, drawing her laptop out.

“Hey!” You smiled at her.

“Thanks for sitting besides me,” Madison said. “Having you around makes me feel so calm, and helps me concentrate.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she said, then smiled apologetically. “You know how the girls are… they’re always so jittery and gossiping. But you… you just have such a steady energy around you.”

Strange. To you, it didn’t feel like you had energy at all.

“You know what I mean, right?” Madison said. “I feel like I can tell you anything, share things with you and you won’t judge me or tell on me. I feel like you wouldn’t turn me away if I ever asked for your help. You are just such a nice person.”

“Madison…” you said, touched. 

She shook her head. “You can just call me Maddie, if you like.”

She wasn’t necessarily right about you being a ‘nice person,’ but you certainly wouldn’t judge her… you of all people after everything you had done. And when it came to helping out another, it was just the decent thing to do, especially for someone you called a friend. It didn’t make you a nice person. It just made Madison’s other friends not so good at friendship.

“Alright then, Maddie,” you smiled. “We shall sit next to each other for as long as you want.”

Madison beamed. Not her usual girly laugh, instead a smile that reached her eyes in all their seriousness. You wondered what sorrow she’d had to live through. 

“Maddie!” Rebecca came up from behind and sat next to Madison. “I missed you over the weekend. Oh, we’re sitting with Y/N again?”

“Yes,” said Madison too sweetly. “She’s my friend. Try not to steal her answers though, Becca.”

Behind her Lacey giggled.

You had to cover your face, too, to hide the grin.

Sam called the class to attention, smiling at everyone. It was breathtaking and painful in equal parts.

“Before we begin,” he said, “It’s been brought to my attention that I’m the only one who hasn’t set you guys an assignment. We can’t have that happening now, can we?”

There were a few groans, and Sam gave everyone a teasing look. “It’s not something that’ll take up a lot of your time. I’m not setting you an essay, just a 500 word brief. Before we get into that, I need to know you guys better. Everyone who has a pre-law please raise your hands. About fifteen to twenty percent of the class raised their hands. 

“Impressive,” Sam said. “Sociology, political science or any other law allied field?”

Majority of the remaining class raised their hands.

“And how many of you guys have worked in any capacity in law fields? Have actual experience?”

About ten to twelve people raised their hands. Slowly, you put your arm up as well.

At the edge of your vision you sensed Rebecca glaring at your hand. 

Sam sweeped his gaze over the class. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to be one of the crowd, because for a split second the startlement was clear on his face. He blinked twice, then looked away.

Split second of eye contact was enough to make you weak in your knees. Bring back a flood of memories, of having looked so deeply in those very eyes. 

He paused, cleared his throat and said, “I suppose this will be somewhat easier for those of you who have a pre-law background. For your assignment, you have to pick the most dicey, interesting or unusual Civil suit or petition you can find, and describe in brief how the written content and consequent presentation saved or screwed over the case. Go crazy with the type of case, as long as it’s civil and filed in the states. The law library has a complete and updated archive of all judgements and petitions in public domain for your reference.”

Giving you a stink eye, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Yes… Miss Staten, is it?”

“Yes, Rebecca Staten,” she said, practically gloating. “Do you specialise in Civil cases? And if so, can we pick one of yours?”

Sam’s eyebrows twitched a little and he brushed at the hair near his ear. To anyone else it would have meant nothing, barely noticeable. You knew better. It was discomfort. He was uncomfortable with the question. Seeing him, you felt an instinctive spark of annoyance towards Rebecca, which was absolutely ridiculous. It wasn’t your place to feel anything on Sam’s behalf. Not anymore.

“I don’t specialise in Civil… I do predominantly take them up, but that’s certainly not it. In fact, my most distinctive case isn’t even a Civil one,” he said. “Rest assured, if you want to make the most of the assignment, none of my cases would be of any help.”

“Makes me wonder…” Madison whispered next to you.

“You have until Wednesday to hand it in. It does not have to be technical, so it shouldn’t take much time,” he announced. “Back to the class now. We’re working on Trial components and rules…”

After the classes for the day ended, Madison caught up with you.

“Where are you headed?” She asked.

“The library.”

“Oh, excellent, I was heading there, too,” she said happily.

“Where are the others?” It made you feel like a wretched person, but you didn’t think you could take anymore of those girls.

Madison wiped her brow. “They wanted to head out to San Francisco for the night.”

“But it’s a Monday,” you spoke unthinkingly.

She gave you a look which made it clear that she shared your opinion.

“I thought you’d want to research Mr. Winchester's assignment. Do you mind if I join?”

The thought of working with someone for once was actually pleasant, “Of course I don’t. It’ll be fun, Maddie.”

She smiled at your use of her nickname. “Alright then.”

The Robert Crown law library was smaller and very modern in comparison to the Green library. It was all white walls, beige minimalist furniture and compactly placed bookshelves next to rows of computers. The appearance didn’t fool you in the least. You knew from having read and well, from having heard about it so many times from Sam that it was extensively stocked with information on thousands and millions of suits, petitions, litigations and what not. It had every possible book that you would want to refer to while building a case, by-laws, constitutional laws and so many other rules and regulations. 

The two of you picked adjacent computers and began sifting through the cases. The sorting system itself boggled your mind, let alone the data within. Soon you were lost in a sea of cases, just reading through them instead of researching for the assignment. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered Madison besides you.

“Mmmm?” You asked absentmindedly.

When she didn’t reply, you looked over. Madison was staring intently at the screen.

“You know when Mr. Winchester was talking to Becca earlier?” She asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Yeah?” You remembered vividly.

“He mentioned how his most distinctive case wasn’t a Civil one?” Her voice was low. “I got curious and looked it up.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

“Turns out he was downplaying it. This looks like a huge deal.”

Despite everything, you gave your swivel chair a push and moved next to Madison.

“What’s it about?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“It’s complicated and over two years old. Looks like it’s a matter of twin homicides in conjunction with multiple matters of abuse and a custody battle. It says he was working with Simpsons and associates in LA back then.”

“LA?” 

“Yeah.” She added guiltily, “I pulled out his public profile in accordance with his registration with the Bar Council. It has his whole bio-data.”

You knew you shouldn’t look. God, you knew it and you looked anyway.

“Stanford… Yale… and there’s a small town in Kansas where he was registered for a year. Then one year in NY, Four in LA, and two at Griswold Acton.”

New York… So he did go there. The thought pierced you like a shard. 

“I think... I think I’m gonna go back now,” you said quietly.

Madison looked at the watch. “Shit! It’s already past 7! Yeah, we should hurry.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Madison said, as you walked along the curb, “The weekend after this one, I’m throwing a party at this bar a few blocks away. And I really want you to come.”

“Is it your birthday?” You asked, feeling awful that you were asking after being invited.

“Yes, the next day. I’m doing this the night before so we’ll be together when the clock hits 12. You’ll come, right?”

You hesitated.

“It’ll be fun, really. I know the girls can be a bit too much sometimes, but there’ll be other people.”

That was even worse.

“It would mean a lot to me,” she insisted.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “Only if you let me get you a present.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but then gave in. “Okay.” She threw her arms around you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wandered back to the apartment, racking your brain about what to put in the assignment. Nothing came to you.

Weird dreams interrupted your sleep that night, homicides and custody disputes. You kept yelling that the child was yours and like in the old 70’s movies, the judge banged the gavel calling for order.... Then, the scene shifted. You were trapped, your hands and shoulders bound. There was glass around you. Shards of glass, blood and icy water, numbing your senses, dulling your pain as it soaked your hair and drenched you to the bone. You wanted to scream for help, but cold also made you sleepy. You wanted to ask the judge… tell him to hand you the child, but there was no judge… just cold and hammering rain.

You woke up chilly. Drenched in sweat, but still very cold. It was just a dream… not reality. Just a dream. You rolled over and sleep found you again.

“You look like you came back from the dead,” Meredith said first thing next morning. 

You ignored her and took your seat in the row ahead of her. Unfortunately, that put you right next to Brad. 

Sam was on time as usual. He ran through his papers as the tech set up his laptop.

“He’s alright, really,” Brad said, making conversation. “Girls seem to swoon on him because he is the youngest faculty member and all. But he’s just average as a teacher.”

“I think he is fantastic,” you said, jutting your chin out, voice unnecessarily sharp.

Brad raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t like the other girls.”

“If by other girls you mean the ones that worked hard to get into Stanford and know how to appreciate a good teacher, then I’m exactly like the other girls.”

“Ooohhh, feisty,” he murmured under his breath. Sam called the class to attention and you chose to ignore Brad completely for the rest of the lecture, then made sure that you sat by yourself for the rest of the day.

The deadline for the assignment was tomorrow and you had no clue what you were handing in. That did not help with the anxiety.

On your way to the library, you dropped by at the Student’s employment office- without much hope- to check on that application anyway.

The girl at the desk ran through your profile once again as you gave her your name.

“Y/N,” she said in a monotone of someone who was bored out of their mind. “I actually have a hit for you here. I should warn you, it's a tough gig-”

“Tell me!” You interrupted before she had even finished the sentence. 

She peered at you over her spectacles. “The odd hours librarian’s post at the Law library. You had an upper hand over the other applicants because you are a law student and live close by. You also have experience as a librarian before.”

“Yes, I want it!”

“Chillax, woman,” said the girl. “It’s an odd hours job. That means the night shift on three days and alternate weekends. It’s an 8 hour shift and 5 shifts per week. Twenty an hour.”

“Done.” You thought back to last night. It wasn’t like you were getting any good sleep anyway. Might as well make money out of it. 

The girl shrugged. “It’s yours then. You start this weekend. I’ll hook you up with the other librarian peeps. They’ll let you know about your shift.”

You thanked her and happily walked back towards the Law building. At least one thing seemed to have worked in your favour. One minute you were walking ahead, next you were on the floor, all your things knocked out of your hands. 

“I’m so sorry.”

You looked up into stunning hazel eyes. They were as familiar even now as if you had looked into them every day of your life.

Sam froze, having just realised that he had walked into you.

Up close he looked tired and definitely a lot thinner.

“Oh, God. Y/N!” Madison, who happened to walk by, reached out to help you to your feet.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Numbly, you nodded. 

Sam methodically picked up your books and wallet, stacked them in a pile and handed it to you.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, quietly, eyes trained on the books in your hand.

You shook your head.

He acknowledged it with a jerk of chin and left without another word.

“What an ass!” Brad muttered coming up from behind. “First he knocked her down and then didn’t even apologise. I don’t get why y’all idealise him so much.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lacey said. “Y/N was the one who walked into him without looking. Ruined his perfectly good suit with her chapstick smear. And he did apologise!”

You excused yourself as quickly as you could, still feeling the tingle on your skin where his fingers had lightly brushed yours, senses still filled with the smell of his cologne. Even after all these years it was still the same. 

You had bought that cologne for him. He still used the same one.

Tears pressed your eyes as you entered the vine covered gates of the apartment. 

At the lift, you ran into Cas.

He looked pleasantly surprised at the sight of you, which was weird because you both did stay on the same floor.

“You look… are you okay?” His voice was coloured with concern.

You had to stop running into people when you were upset. Had to.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you tried to assure him. “I was heading home.”

“Yes, home,” Cas sighed, absentmindedly. “I miss having a roommate sometimes. Conversation is what makes it home.”

You had reached your door.

“Hey,” you said, making an impulse decision. “Do you maybe wanna come in for a mug of coffee or something?”

He looked startled again. “Yeah, I would love that.”

Meg wasn’t home. You weren’t surprised. 

“Please make yourself at home,” you waved towards the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”

You quickly dumped your bag and books on your bed, swapped the shoes for your comfortable slippers, tied your hair in a bun at the top of your head and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Cas was in the balcony, looking at the front yard. 

“You guys have a fantastic view from here,” he said morosely. You felt bad for him. His was the only flat on the floor that didn’t have the yard facing balcony.

“Why didn’t you ask Pam to sublet you this one after the last tenant moved out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t spend much time at the apartment anyway with the night shifts and emergencies at the hospital. Besides, mine’s a small one and I don’t have a roommate, so it's easy to clean after.”

“Is it too much work at the hospital?” You asked sympathetically, then realised how dumb the question was. It was a hospital. Of course there was too much work.

“Sometimes,” he answered truthfully. “The ER duty is dreadful because a lot of times you just can’t save a life. OPD days are so much better.”

You nodded thoughtfully.

“What about you? How’s law school treating you?”

You told him about how everyone was just so different from you. They had social circles and Monday night outs and were worried about internships for status as opposed to just wanting a job or actually learning. You told him about how there always seemed to be an ulterior motive to everything that they said or did.

It sounded like a rant even to your own ears, but God it felt good to unload. Cas was probably bored out of his mind. You let it all out anyway.

“And then- then they judge people based on their appearance. Just because I wear a sweater all the time doesn’t make me drab. I’m just really sensitive to cold. Just because a professor is young and good looking, doesn’t by default make him a bad teacher.”

You had to stop to take a breath, and were immediately possessed by a sense of embarrassment. Why were you putting this on a very tired Cas?

Cas, however, looked deep in thought. “Hmmm…” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong. You don’t have any immediate family, do you?”

You shook your head. “I have no family left.”

Cas didn’t ask you the why or how come.

“Maybe that’s why,” he said, face resting on his palms. “You don’t live for anyone but yourself. You don’t have to put on a show like them.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means that you are being motivated by a desire to learn, to become a better person and to help the world become a better place. Most people are motivated by power, or money or just wanting to create an impression. No wonder you don’t fit in, Y/N. You stand out.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Cas put his hands up. “I mean it. Besides, you have us. I can tell for a fact that people here really like you. So who cares about the rich ass kids? They’re the reason lawyers got a bad rep.”

You giggled.

Then you remembered the coffee pot. “Oh, damn!”

Cas chuckled as you went to grab the pot and fix two coffees.

“What’re you thinking about the weekend?” Cas called from the balcony, “I think we’re on the losing side.”

“It’s September. It’s not raining.”

“That’s what I said last week. It rained.”

“Oh, no!”

Cas took a mug from your hands. “Thank you.”

He took a sip. “The forecast is never useful. Wish we could sue them for it.”

You put your mug down.

“CAS! You are a genius!”

“What?”

You rushed to your room to grab your computer, then settled on a chair, quickly typing the words out.

“I knew it!” You shouted in vindication. “I remembered reading about it.”

“Errr….” Cas hovered over you utterly confused. You turned the laptop so he could see.

“Look! In 1988 a woman did sue Chicago’s famous newsman over a wrong weather forecast!”

“Are you serious?” He put the mug down and sat next to you, reading the article.

You pointed at it excitedly. “See that’s what it says.”

“They dismissed her, right?”

You grinned at him. “She settled outside for a sum of half a million.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cas whistled.

“Oh, this is perfect for the assignment! Thanks, Cas.”

“My pleasure,” he said, somewhat bemused.

He read over your shoulder as you wrote the brief extract, pointing out how it was a trend setter of it’s kind when it came to dragging news media to the court. The woman had missed a flight which was cancelled as a precaution to the bad forecast and viola! It never rained. 

“This look good?”

“It’s perfect!” Cas said.

You dropped the file into the mailbox, then paused when it came to actually typing a mail, fingers trembling.

This was Sam you were writing to. He used to be your Sam.

You did it nevertheless. You typed his id and the thumbnail of his profile appeared. He wore a tan turtleneck and was smiling at the person holding the camera. Who could it have been?

“Is that the young professor you were talking about?” Cas asked offhandedly. 

“Mhmm.”

“I can see why he gets that sort of attention,” Cas chuckled.

You saw it, too.

Sighing internally, you hit the send button.

Cas high-fived you. “There are very few things in life as satisfying as a last minute submission,” he said, then looked at the watch. “I better go now, I’ve got an early morning shift.”

“Oh, wait for a bit,” you said, rushing to the kitchen counter, and pulling out a jar of cookies. “Here, have one. I got a job today, as a librarian. My Gran used to say that one should always offer sweets while  breaking a good news.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Cas took a bite of the crumbly choco-chip cookie and moaned. “Oh, these are wonderful!”

You thrust the entire jar in his hand. “Here, take them all. I just like baking them…. not much of an eater.”

“You made these?” His voice was incredulous and you blushed. 

“My Gran used to run a small bakery from our house. I grew up watching her do what she loved the most. The smell of baking comforts me… and let’s just say I needed to be comforted lately.”

“Well, these are excellent!” He didn’t even resist for the sake of formality and took the jar.

You walked him to the door. “Hey, Cas. Thank you for tonight.”

It had been the first time since you had moved to the city that you actually felt like you had talked because you wanted to, shared what you really felt. It was the first time you had truly rejoiced that the bubble was gone and you could be happy in the company of another person.

Cas didn’t ask why you had thanked him. Oddly, he understood.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, where it lay heavy and comforting. “I had a great evening. If you ever want to share anything or you know bake too many cookies, I should tell you that I live right next door.”

You giggled. Cas tightened his grip on your shoulder for a moment and let go. He waved at you once more before closing his door. 

Later, as you lay in bed, you thought through the day and just how your emotions were all over the place. One minute you were distraught and the next, excited. The way that Brad annoyed you, no one ever had except for that one idiot in high school. You were used to having people rely on you. Even when you worked as a paralegal all through last year, your boss had been happy with your work, your colleagues were polite… but no one had remotely elicited any sort of reaction from you. It had been the same through all those years of pre-law. It hadn’t ever bothered you that you weren’t a part of the group. In fact, now that you looked back on the years, everything seemed so hazy, like you were looking at your memories through a heavily fogged glass.

In fact, that one year spent with Sam was clearer than the seven years spent after. You could recall every moment lived with him as if it was merely yesterday. And yet things that had happened a month back felt like they had happened ages ago. 

Deep down, you knew the reason for it. With Sam you had been happy… happier than you had ever been before. It was the last time you had been happy, too. So did that mean you were beginning to be happy again now? 

Re-learning it one step at a time?

You rolled, mulling the thought over in your head and fell asleep dreamlessly after a very long time.

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

“Oh, the sweet release of Friday!” Madison moaned. “I can’t wait to fall into bed. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“I actually have plans for tonight,” you told her, “So I’m not expecting to see the bed anytime soon.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t show up to Brad’s party, but you have plans tonight?” Lacey wiggled her eyebrows. “Is there a special someone?”

It was Jack. You were going bowling with Jack and whoever else was free. You had protested the plan by explaining how awful you were at bowling. It had only delighted Jack more. Apparently, he sucked, too, but he really wanted to impress the girl who worked at the bowling alley. If he came off looking better than you, maybe, just maybe he’d have a chance with her. It seemed like a very very unlikely event, but you didn’t have the heart of telling him that. In fact, to your surprise you found yourself really excited for the evening.

“Just a friend.” You shrugged.

Lacey looked like she was about to press her point when Madison interrupted her.

“Oh, did any of you hear from Mr. Winchester? Regarding the assignment?” 

You threw her a grateful look for changing the topic.

Madison had received a reply on Wednesday evening with a positive critique and so had Rebecca along with a few more people. 

It was all Rebecca needed to go on and on about the assignment, and how Mr. Winchester loved her work and remembered her name. You were a little disappointed that you never received a critique… but were you even expecting a reply from Sam? You had accepted that he was going to ignore you.

Sam did not mention the assignment at all. He made a few timed jokes about how everyone hated the last class on a Friday including him and he’d make it a point to let everyone off fifteen minutes early. The lecture was as captivating as usual. He spoke with such passion for law that even the most monotonous topics became suddenly interesting. You wouldn’t have cared if he had even extended the class, but he kept his promise and ended it about ten minutes early.

“Before you all leave for a much deserved weekend,” he said, “I want to congratulate you all on an assignment well done. Most of you had the most interesting topics picked out for the note. It certainly made for entertaining reads. I was hoping at least someone would bring up the several instances when Red bull got sued and I wasn’t disappointed. Four of you did. I’m sorry I couldn’t reply back to all of the emails, but there was a particular one that I’d like to bring to your attention. A 1988 lawsuit turned to a petition after a woman sued Chicago’s famous newsman Gary Holster over the wrong forecast.”

You could barely believe your ears.

“Mary Johnson was flying from Domestic Chicago to LAX along with 122 other passengers. And after predictions of a heavy storm, the flight was cancelled. Of course. it barely even rained. As a result, Miss Johnson lost a prospective job and the opportunity at a better life. What started as a snowflake of a suit, snowballed into a petition with over 76 plaintiffs after a newspaper published her story tagging it as ridiculous. The other passengers reached out to her, expanding into a full-fledged writ.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “All of you should take a look at the case as well as Ms. Y/L/N’s note. It was a particularly smart choice to pick this case because I had asked for weird and unusual… and the exact oddity of the case was what made it a national sensation in the late 80’s.”

Sam looked up, with precision, straight into your eyes. “Good job, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. The corner of your eyes stung.

Behind you Lacey muttered, “Oh, look, yours isn’t the only name he remembers, Ms. Staten.”

“Have a great weekend!” Sam wished before leaving the room. The class immediately broke into a babble and some people turned to spot you in the crowd. A few of them even came up to you to congratulate on an assignment well done. You promised to forward the assignment to the class group so everyone could see it. As it turned, out a couple of people stayed in the building next to yours. 

While leaving, you did notice Rebecca staring at you with ill concealed dislike and something close to suspicion.

“Y/N!” Jack was waiting for you in the front yard, which was officially nicknamed the meadow. He was sitting next to Judgy Judy with a satchel slung across his body.

“Hey, I’m going to run upstairs and drop my bag.” 

He sprang up from the parapet and eased your bag off your shoulder. “Don’t bother. We can just drop it off at Pam’s. Watch.”

He slid the shutter to her ground floor flat window and with extreme expertise pushed your big inside from in between to bars.

“Genius!” You lauded.

Jack grinned, “Pam is home and sleeping. By the time we get back, she’ll be up, ready to handover the bag.”

“Truly epic.”

“You guys don’t have too much fun without me!” Kevin yelled from his balcony where he was sitting with Cas. He looked bummed.

“What’s up with him?” 

Jack waved at Kevin and said loudly enough for him to hear, “Nothing. Kev’s just pissed that the weather is clear.”

Kevin cursed. “That dumb reported said it was going to rain. I’m gonna sue her!”

Next to him, Cas gave you a pointed look and winked. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

Jack offered you his arm and you took it, feeling a strange happiness settle within you. Hand in hand you walked out. For the first time in years you didn’t know what to expect of tomorrow or even the next moment. The feeling was worth living for.

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

A/N 2: Heads up! There’s still sometime before we find out what exactly went down between these two, but in the present timeline, it’s mostly just uphill from now. 

I had a very, very hard day, today. Hoping it will be uphill for me, too, from now on :)

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

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[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Buy In

Chapter 6: A New Hope

by @dracusfyre

A week or so later, Bucky met KT up for their usual shift and was surprised to see that the normally taciturn man was visibly excited, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited. “What’s up?” Bucky asked, curiosity driving him to jog across traffic to see what had KT so worked up.

“It’s Community Appreciation Day,” KT said, jerking his head towards Tony’s garage a few blocks away. His legs were shorter than Bucky’s but excitement was making him walk fast enough that Bucky had to make an effort to keep up.

“Community Appreciation Day?” Bucky repeated incredulously. "What is that?"

"What does it sound like, doofus?" KT said, but he was in too good of a mood for his words to have any heat.

Bucky shook his head. Of course Tony had community appreciation days. At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony had an EEOC office and regular OSHA inspections and celebrated Office Professional's Day. "I'm just surprised I hadn't heard of it before now."

“Yeah, they're usually on real short notice. The Engineer brought in a shipment late last night so the Boss spread the word that we were having a party.”

Now Bucky was even more confused. He knew from the case file that the Engineer ran Tony’s chop shop operations, stealing high end automobiles and helping them disappear, whole or in pieces, on the black market. What that had to do with appreciating the community Bucky had no idea; it’s not like Tony was giving away the cars he stole…right? 

When they nodded to Tony’s guards and pushed open the door to the garage, Bucky’s jaw dropped. In the wide open space, where there was usually a variety of half-built classic cars, there was instead half a dozen sleek, low slung cars that looked like they were breaking the speed limit just sitting there. He recognized the logo for Ferrari and Lamborghini but the rest he’d never even heard of before. Most of them had their hoods up for car enthusiasts to drool over the high-performance engines and Bucky felt his heart start to beat faster as he left KT behind to look at the Lamborghini. He hadn’t really had his hands on a car engine since he joined the Army, other than doing his own routine maintenance, but looking at the ridiculously high-powered engine on this car was like seeing the face of God.

“Look at you, you sexy beast,” Bucky murmured, running a hand over the gleaming engine block. It was like it had barely been driven, it was so clean. “You’re sex on wheels, that’s what you are.”

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just really into cars?”

Bucky turned and his heart flipped when he saw Tony smiling at him, wearing a suit with an AC/DC shirt underneath. Tony pushed his glasses up onto his head and leaned his hip on the car’s bumper, hands in his pockets as he studied Bucky with what looked like fond amusement. “This thing is like the Mona Lisa of cars,” Bucky said, feeling strangely shy. This was the first time he’d seen Tony since the night of the ball and he suddenly, stupidly, wished he had shaved and worn his nice jeans.

“This one is nice,” Tony agreed, “but that one is my favorite.” He gestured with his chin towards the bright red Ferrari across the room, scissor doors opened up and away from the car like fiery wings.

“I can see that, it’s definitely your style.”

“Follow me, one came in that I think is your style,” Tony said, pushing off the car.

“Yeah?” Bucky was intrigued and flattered as Tony led him through the crowd of people. “Which one- Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker,” he blurted when they stopped in front the most goddamn beautiful car he’d ever seen.

“The Bugatti La Voiture Noire,” Tony said, but his eyes were on Bucky’s face, not the car. “0 to 60 in 2.5 seconds, with 1,180 pounds of torque. Top speed of 261 miles an hour.”

Bucky whistled, long and low. “It looks like the Batmobile,” he said, smiling when he surprised a laugh out of Tony. “If a ninja was a car, it would be this car.”

Tony started to say something, but at that moment came the sound of someone tapping on a microphone. “Hello?” Bucky heard someone say. “Mr. Stark, are you ready?”

With an apologetic glance to Bucky, Tony jogged up to where they had made a makeshift stage out of a metal table. Tony climbed on top and took the microphone. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes as his grin grew wide and polished. “Are you ready for everyone’s favorite day of the quarter?” The crowd, which had quieted and turned to face Tony, cheered. “I know, me too. As you can see, there are six cars, so there will be six MVPs named today. As your name is called, winners, come up to take a bow and tell us which car you will be taking for a test drive before they all move on to their new owners.”

“That’s the reward?” Bucky said with surprise to no one in particular. “You get to drive the cars? Where?”

“The Boss rents out a racetrack,” the guy next to him said. “You get to drive it for thirty minutes. Or you can just take the cash prize, if you aren’t interested in the cars or don’t know how to drive.”

“Let’s take a minute to get to know our guests,” Tony was saying. “The sexy red beauty is a Ferrari LaFerrari, a lame name for a nice car. This particular one used to be owned by Mark Zuckerburg, purchased for $1.4 million with the proceeds of selling Facebook user data to over 150 companies. Proceeds from its resale is going to the Free Internet Project.” There was enthusiastic applause, then he gestured towards the Bugatti. “This fucking amazing car is a Bugatti La Voiture Noire, the most expensive car on the planet at $18 million. Jeff Bezos commissioned this car even as workers in Amazon warehouses were passing out from exhaustion while working for minimum wage. Proceeds from the sale of this pinnacle of human engineering will go to help Amazon workers unionize for better working conditions.” Each car in the warehouse had a similar story, and Bucky couldn’t help booing and cheering with the crowd as he heard each story.

“But enough of those assholes,” Tony said, waving for the crowd to get quiet. “Let’s hear about our heroes. First is Harley Keener, who has worked tirelessly to set up our own free neighborhood broadband using satellite dishes he made himself; it’s making ISPs in the city big mad, as the kids say, but we’ve got higher and more consistent speeds than they provide so they can suck it, right? It’s not like they were laying fiber here anyway.” As he spoke, a teenager came up and Tony gave him a hand to help him climb onto the table. There was applause, and the kid picked the Lamborghini, and hopped down off the table with a check and a certificate from the Maria Stark Foundation. The rest of the projects were in the same vein: a woman who set up a program to encourage stores and restaurants to donate excess food to soup kitchens and shelters to reduce food waste ("I know it's against the law, but it's a stupid law so we've elected to ignore it"); an older Black man who got the city to put in new solar-powered bus stops at safer and more convenient locations; and a principal who had a 100% graduation rate for the first time in the school’s history, among others. “And every senior was registered to vote as they got their diploma,” Tony added. “Great work, everyone! Winners, I’ll see you soon for your test drives, and for everyone else make sure you eat all this food, boxes are at the end of the table for you to take some home.” There was another round of applause, the biggest one yet, as Tony handed the microphone to Happy and climbed off the table.

“You’re just a regular Robin Hood, aren’t you?” Bucky said when Tony found him again, this time holding a plate full of chicken wings, donuts, and assorted fruit. “Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?”

“I like to think of myself as an instrument of poetic justice,” Tony said around a mouthful of food. “I used to steal them and wreck them, but I realized this was more fitting.”

Bucky knew he shouldn’t be quite so amused about six counts of grand – very grand – theft auto, but it was hard not to smile at the smug look on Tony’s face while he had powdered sugar in his goatee.  As someone pulled Tony away with a question, Bucky felt his phone buzz with a notification. He moved closer to the wall as he pulled it out to check his messages.

Gonna be a party tonight, his Discord contact had written, along with an address. A very familiar address, since he was standing right at it. You gonna be there?

Bucky stared at the message and sagged against the wall as his stomach sank. Glancing up at the cars, he realized that the police must have gotten a tipoff that the cars were incoming and were planning to raid the garage tonight, before they disappeared again. The message wasn’t an invitation, it was a warning for him to stay away so his cover wouldn’t get blown. “Shit,” he said, and wiped a hand over his face as he thought furiously.   

“What’s up?” Tony asked, licking wing sauce off his fingers. “You look like you got bad news.”

Bucky stared at him for a moment and realized that there was no way he was going to let Tony get arrested, no way he was going to let him go to jail or let his name get dragged through the mud and see everything he'd built get torn apart by rival gangs. “Want to go on a date?” he blurted.

Tony’s face went slack with shock. “A date?” He blinked at Bucky for a long time, mouth quirking, before his face suddenly fell. “I can’t. You’re an employee,” he said regretfully.

“Seriously?” This guy, for crying out loud. “Ok, uh…” Bucky thought fast. “What about an employee counseling session? With food? We can talk about my, um, five year career plan.”

“Five year plan.” Tony stared at him with amused disbelief. “Ok, sure. Let’s do some employee counseling. When?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Tony repeated, clearly fishing for an explanation but Bucky couldn’t think of a good one so he just shrugged. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Far be it from me to discourage people from having life goals. Let’s say 8:00?”

“Sounds great,” Bucky said, trying and probably failing to keep the relief out of his voice.

“Ok, I’ll pick you up.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” Bucky stood around awkwardly for a moment, then nodded stiffly and walked away. If he was going to have an identity crisis and second guess every decision he’d made in life that had led to him asking an organized crime boss out on a date, he should probably do it in privacy and hopefully get it done with by 8.

Baffled, Tony watched Blue Eyes hurry away, running the conversation over in his head until suddenly realization dawned. Then he found himself smiling so widely his cheeks hurt; joy was like champagne bubbles in his chest, making him want to laugh for no particular reason. He tossed his half-empty plate of food into the closest trashcan and threaded through the crowd until he found Rhodey leaning against the door, typing something one handed into his work tablet.

“Rhodey,” Tony said, beaming.

“Tony,” Rhodey said, looking up warily.

“Blue Eyes wants to have dinner with me. And it has to be tonight.”

Rhodey frowned. “But tonight is-”

“Exactly.”

Rhodey took one look at the beatific look on Tony’s face and started shaking his head. “Tony, no,” he said in warning.

“Tony, yes. He’s trying to protect me, Rhodey.” Tony felt downright giddy.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do! He knows the police are going to raid the garage tonight and he doesn’t want me here when it happens so I don’t get arrested for possession of stolen property. It’s so goddamn romantic I can’t stand it.” Brooks, or whatever the hell his real name was, couldn’t know that Tony had contacts inside every major law enforcement organization operating in the city and had known about the raid almost as soon as they had applied for a warrant. The stolen cars were already being prepared to be moved to a separate location, and in their place were going to be the exact same models all purchased legally and in Tony’s name. Pepper and her army of lawyers had already prepared righteously indignant press releases and harassment lawsuits and were just waiting for the cops to show up. Tony had even picked his outfit for his brief stint in jail, but apparently now he had other plans for the evening. “You know what this means, right?”

“I know what you think it means, Tony, and I still think you should be careful. He is still a cop.”

Tony planted a loud, smacking kiss on Rhodey’s cheek. “You can’t take this from me, sour puss. I might get to keep Blue Eyes after all!”

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (5)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

The days are the same and fortunately for you, no further attempted aggression has been committed on you. But it's not the police you have to thank for that, but just yourself. Because when you tried to file a complaint against your attacker, all the police were able to tell you was that there was nothing they could do. Because as you bear no stigma, no trace of blow ... there would be no point in filing a complaint. You sigh just by thinking about it, decidedly the mentality of some police officers will always surprise you. You really wonder what criteria they are recruited on.  

While you were serving a few clients, your gaze was slowly moving towards Jed, leaning over those drafts blackened by his pencil. God he’s beautiful when he is focused... something about him attracts you when he's in that state. But now is not the time to be lost in your thoughts! Let's stay professional first! you walk towards him a tea in hand that you lay on the table, bringing him out of his concentration. He gave you a smile, that angelic smile that could melt all hearts. We remain professional I said!

“I think it'll do you the greatest good, three coffees in a row could turn you into a ball of nerve. always immersed in your research about this ... Hoggins?” You said looking down to the papers.

“Yeah, I need to know a couple of things about him for this reception...so I could more easily slip into the crowd and rummage through his stuff without him noticing anything. Can you imagine if I find anything compromising about this story? This will create the biggest scandal this city... this state has never known.” he responds with some enthusiasm.

“You could also be killed so no one knows. That Hoggins is a very influent man. He could hire someone to kill you and your peers, like that bastard... Forget it. I can’t believe what the police told me... What are they waiting for? that I'm dying to act?”  

“This the reason why I rather fend for myself and solve problems in my own way. and that's what I plan to do with Mike. he thinks he can belittle me and hit me with impunity, he is seriously mistaken. I'll take the time it takes, but one day I'll give him back the blows he'll take from me.” He replies putting his glasses back.  

“Well, not so shy as I thought after all.”

“I am someone who interacts with people based on how they act with me. If they put me lower than earth ... I do the same.”  

He sipped his tea while putting a little order on the table. You can't help but look at his piercing blue eyes, so attractive, that's what makes all his charm, his major asset. When they stared at you, you feel your cheeks blush slightly and with a little embarrassed laugh, you get up and start heading to the counter ready to welcome new customers.

“You know...” Jed starts making you stop and turn to him. “I was thinking... that you could go with me to this reception. If I say you're with me, I don't think it's going to be a problem.” he said with a little smile.  

“What?? Me?? Jed I... It’s really nice of you but...I’m not a journalist and even less a girl from high society. I wouldn't feel like I belong there. And then I might embarrass you in your work...I don’t know if it’s a really good idea.” you answer putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why not? I'm going to have a good night at this reception too. But knowing Melina and Mattew, they're going to go their own way and leave me alone lost in the middle of people I don't know. So, if I can share it with a friend... And chat with someone I like and know... I'd rather you came.”  

“Well...okay. Thanks Jed. I appreciate that you've thinking about me.”

The door opened and a woman entered the café. Given the outfit she was wearing, she was either working in the office or she was a businesswoman. But a horrible thrill pierced you when you saw in the distance Mc Kellan a smile on the corner. Whoever this woman is, this scumbag knows her for sure.

“Are you the owner of The Nebula?” said the woman by looking around her.

“Yes. Can I help you?” you answer a little worried.

“Let me introduce myself: Mrs Alice Milton. Hygiene inspector. Mr. Kellan has informed me that you are not complying with certain health measures and I am here to check. You don't mind, do you?

“No... Not at all.” you said, trying to stay calm.  

Mrs Milton began to do his inspection. She checked every table, every seat, every window. No object escaped his gaze. Then she went to the back shop to check the reserves and worktops. She wrote down two or three things on her notebook and went on.

You observe her, the fear in your stomach, trembling slightly to the simple fact that she could make fall the cleaver on you. You suddenly feel a hand resting on your shoulder, it was Jed's. He gave you a big smile to reassure you, calm your fears and make you understand that whatever she says, he will help you.

Mrs. Milton put away her belongings without saying a word, then left the café to go to McKellan. From the counter you could see them chatting, Mc Kellan didn't look happy and the young woman tried to calm him down. You'd like to be a pigeon or a fly to find out what they're telling each other.

Suddenly you see Mc Kellan driving away without Mrs. Milton. This one came back to the café but for some reason, you feel more comfortable...as if she were just becoming a customer like the others. And this was confirmed when she smiled at you, a reassuring smile, a friendly smile.  

“You can breathe now, he's gone. I'm sorry I did this with you. But I had to stay professional in front of him. You are not Horace's first victim. Can I?” She said, looking at Jed’s table.  

“Sure.” Jed simply said.

“You look like... not to appreciate him either.” you said while keeping your distance.

“Not really. Horace trusts very few people. He's a very selfish man. Who wants to impose his laws and his manners on everyone. and as soon as someone dares to oppose him... He's calling on me to ‘make the vermin flow’. As I said, you’re not the first one on his list, and you won’t be the last.”

“I have no doubt about that. Coffee?” you ask her before filling her a cup when she nodded. “What did you say to him? Outside.”

“That I found nothing. And as always, he was upset. I said I'll continue my search...But don’t worry I won't do anything. On the other hand, be careful, He’s not likely to give up so easily. And if he gets more upset, he'll make you killing and throwing in Dry Creek.”

Jed says nothing but Danny burns internally, if someone has the right to kill you...It’s him and ONLY him. That's one more reason to kill McKellan. This guy is not only dangerous for you, but for Danny's reputation. There can only be one killer here and Danny is not the type to share the scene. Danny has no choice. He has to get rid of Mc Kellan first. Mike can wait a bit.  

“What can I do?” you ask worried.  

“Do nothing toward him. Everything you do, he’ll turn it against you. And he’ll get what he wants. I suggest you to protect yourself. Or at least not to be alone in case he'll send you another assailant. Always have something to defend yourself. Or someone.” said Mrs Milton.

You nodded and after a few minutes of conversation, Mrs Milton leaves the coffee, wishing you good luck. You clean Jed's table, who was tidying up his belongings, getting ready to leave. He wrote something on a sheet which he handed you with a little smile. You tilt your head to the side, an eyebrow raised.

“My phone number, in case you’ll need something. Or just want to talk.” He said.  

“Jed come on...I can...” you start to answer before seeing he’s insisting. You sight, taking the sheet on your hand. “Fine...Thanks Jed. I’ll owe you one. More than one in fact.”

“I know you’ll help me someday. So, don’t worry. Oh and... I love your praline and coconut cake. A strange but very interesting mix.” he said before leaving, weaving his hand with that angelic smile on his face.

The rest of the day took place and it must be admitted that it was quite sporty. It's hard to handle so many people on your own. But until you have some financial stability, you can't hire someone at the moment. After your usual closing ritual, you go home. Next goal:  buys a pepper spray or a small knife, just in case.

You pick up your mail and go back to your apartment. What a relief to finally be at home. You put your belongings on the couch, the letters in a bowl dedicated to your mail and you head to the kitchen. Family's photos decorated some walls of the apartment reviving wonderful memories... But also, painful wounds. Homemade carbonara pasta for the evening will suit perfectly. it is rare that you take industrial products. As you put all the ingredients on the worktop, the phone rang.

Who can call you at this hour? You don't remember giving someone your landline number since you arrived. You ignore the call and go back to your business when it rang again. Someone's really trying to reach you. You take the handset of the phone determined to know who can call you at this time. Every time, it's a number error.

“Hello? Who’s on the phone?” you said.

“Oh. You're not my aunt. Sorry I got the wrong number.” respond the other person on the phone.  

Jackpot.

“It doesn't matter, it happens to everyone. Good night.” you replied as start to hang up.  

“Wait, wait!  Can... can we talk a little bit more? I never heard such a beautiful voice like yours before.”  

“Quite a charmer, are you? Well, if you want. if it can make you happy.” You answer with a little laugh.

“Thanks. It's rare for people who take the time to chat with strangers on the phone. Usually, they hang up immediately or never respond. Nice shirt by the way.”  

" well, it's usually rare to answer numbers that...” You start before realizing what he said last. “excuse me...What did you just say?”

“I said nice shirt. Purple suits you well.”

“H-how do you know that?”  

“... Raise your head.”

You gradually raise your head and face the building in front of yours. In the window that faced yours, you see him. A man with a white mask was there, tilting his head waving his hand to say hello.

“See me now?” He chuckles.

“Who the f*** are you ??” You respond even if you already know the answer.  

“What a lovely language...Well, I'm sure you already know the answer but if you insist. You can call me: Ghostface. I think I'm gonna call you...”

“what do you want?”

“Just talk. As I said, I never heard such a beautiful voice before...and never see such a pretty face like yours too.”

“call a prostitute if you want to chat, you freaking weirdo.” You replied ready to hang up.

“Tsk tsk. No no no my little star...if you hang up...you won’t see the sun rise tomorrow. Or your dear nerdy friend won’t see it.”

“Leave Jed alone! It’s between you and me! if you dare to touch him, I swear...” you say angrily before hearing him laugh.  

“Calm down my sweet little star... The truth is, I don't intend to touch him. It is thanks to him that I have acquired this beautiful but sinister reputation. He makes me the star of Roseville. We need each other. But let's talk about you. I must admit that I find it difficult to understand how such beauty as you live in such city. You must have a good reason.”

“It’s none of your business. I can ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I want to leave a trace in this miserable world. I want everyone remember my name. But for that I have to move across all the country. You know what? I'm going to let you live for now. But I advise you not to tell the police about our little conversation. It will pain me a lot to disfigure such a pretty face ... and a pretty body. And don't worry, we'll meet again. Good night my sweet little star... Have a beautiful dream.” He said chuckling before hanging up.  

You hang up the phone on the table and when you look back at the window, he was gone. Like a shadow in the night. You take a deep breathe, rubbing your face in your hands and sit on the sofa. Deep down, you felt that sooner or later you would face him. But not so quickly. Fortunately for you, he is not determined to make you a new victim of his macabre round. But for how long? you hope for as late as possible.

Unknowingly, my dear little star you fell into the spider's web. Without knowing it you have caught the attention of the devil.  

And that's just the beginning.

***

(Done! I'm glad to see you like it! And I hope it will continue! By the way I recently watched The Boy and discovered that dear Brahms~ And I must confess that he does not leave me indifferent. What a lovely British accent he has~ See ya! )  

[creepingsharia]

‘Tortured Beyond Recognition’: Muslim Persecution of Christians, December 2020

Christians executed by jihadis on Christmas Day in Nigeria.

by Raymond Ibrahim

The following are among the abuses inflicted on Christians by Muslims throughout the month of December, 2020:

The Slaughter of Christians

Nigeria: In a video that appeared on Dec. 29, Islamic terrorists executed five Christians. The footage showed five armed members of the Islamic State (West African province) standing behind five men dressed in orange suits with their arms tied behind their backs and on their knees.  The terrorists order each of the men to say their names and the hostages oblige, each adding, “I am a Christian.”  One of the terrorists then says “This is a warning to Christians in all parts of the world and those in Nigeria….   Use the heads of these five of your brethren to continue with your ungodly celebrations,” a reference to Christmas.  The five Muslims then open fire into the back of the Christians’ heads and kill them.

A few days earlier, on Christmas Eve, and for several hours into the early morning of Christmas Day, Muslim raiders terrorized a Christian village, where they slaughtered between seven and 11 people, including a 5-year-old, and kidnapped 11 more (it is believed that the five Christians who were executed on video were from among these 11).  Riding on trucks and motorcycles, the jihadis opened fire indiscriminately, torched 10 homes and one church, and plundered the food supplies meant to be distributed on Christmas Day.  Although traumatized, some Christians remained defiant, as captured by a Christmas Day text by one Markus Bulus, a local:

Whatever Boko Haram planned against us has failed.   Whatever it is, we shall still celebrate Christmas. Jesus, we’re so grateful this day even with the bad experience we had last night. We have nothing to offer as our thanksgiving, but we offer our hearts in deep supplication to your majesty on this Christmas Day.

Elsewhere throughout the month of December, Muslim Fulani herdsmen “killed 33 Christians, destroyed 18 homes and displaced more than 2,500 people.” Moreover, according to a report released by the International Society for Civil Liberties & the Rule of Law (“INTERSOCIETY”), Muslims have massacred at least 2,200 Nigerian Christians between Jan. 2020 and Dec. 13, 2020.  Of this figure, “Jihadist Fulani Herdsmen,” it said, were responsible for about “1,300 Christian deaths, followed by Boko Haram and its splinter groups (ISWAP and Ansaru) with 500 Christian deaths….   In other words, Nigeria in 2020 has lost average of six Christians per day and 180 per month.”

Uganda: A Muslim mob attacked and killed a man “a few days after he renounced Islam to follow Christ.” On Nov. 30, Yusuf Kintu, 41, then an imam at a mosque, converted to Christianity. “We had been talking on several occasions,” Pastor Andrew Nyanma explained, “but he was so argumentative when we touched on matters related to faith. He was a brilliant Muslim Imam but also respected other people’s faith. On this day [of his conversion], he was calm and receptive.”  Three days later, his wife divorced him and left the house with his two youngest children.  On Dec. 6, one week after his conversion—or, in Muslim eyes, apostasy—an angry Muslim mob rose up against him.  According to one source, “the local Muslim community was upset in [sic] Yusuf for leaving Islam and becoming a Christian. Yusuf was seriously beaten and left unconscious.”  Pastor Andrew found him in the morning and took him to a hospital, where Yusuf succumbed to his injuries on Dec. 7.

Egypt:  On Dec. 10, two Muslim brothers went on a stabbing spree targeting Christians in Alexandria; one man was killed and two others were severely injured and hospitalized.  According to authorities, they went on their murderous rampage because they were “upset” that their mother had died earlier that day.   “The matter began with insults and curses to the shopkeepers for being Christians,” explained Fr. Michael Gamil, whose nearby church was also targeted.  “The Copts present responded with patience.  Then, when one of them, Ramses, quietly went to close and lock his shop door, they lunged at and stabbed him with knives.” Ramses’ brother, who ran a grocery store nearby, saw what was happening, rushed to his brother’s aid, and was also stabbed.   The Muslim brothers then barged into the clothing shop of another Christian man and stabbed him in the torso, near his heart.  All three men were hospitalized with serious injuries in intensive care; Ramses died of his wounds.  The rampaging Muslim brothers then entered Fr. Michael’s church and cursed at a partially blind priest.  Discussing the alleged motive, Fr. Michael said: “They [Egyptian authorities] say they started cursing the Copts because their mother died; and two years earlier, they cursed the Copts because their brother died: what do [familial] death and the Copts have to do with each other?”  He emphasized that the two brothers had been in the habit of verbally harassing and insulting Christians for years—though they clearly took their hate to another level on Dec. 10.

Artsakh: Muslim fighters tortured a 58-year-old Christian woman of Armenian descent by hacking off her ears, hands, and feet, before finally executing her.  According to the Jan. 14 report,

On the same day of talks between Erdogan and Putin, when Turkey’s leader said he would like to create conditions of ‘coexistence’ between Armenians and Azeris, officials located the body of an Armenian woman today who had been reported missing.

The woman has been identified as 58-year-old Alvard Tovmasyan who was a resident of Karin Tak village, near the Shushi region of Artsakh currently occupied by Azerbaijani forces.

Tovmasyan was a second degree intellectually disabled person killed and ‘tortured beyond recognition’ outside of her home with her hands, ears, and feet cut off, according to her brother Samvel Tovmasyan who confirmed her identity by recognizing the clothes she was wearing.

As to why she was mutilated before being killed, jihadis often cite the Koran’s calls to cut off the hands, feet, and throats of infidels (e.g., Koran 5:33, 47:4).

According to a separate Dec. 15 Church Militant news report, “Armenians are being brutalized” and have “lost territory to their jihadist neighbors before agreeing to a cease-fire enforced by Russia…. Prior to violating the so-called peace agreement, the Turkish Muslims of Azerbaijan did as Muhammad commanded in beheading Christians.”  The report linked to a video of camouflaged soldiers overpowering and forcing down a struggling, elderly Armenian man, and then casually carving at his throat with a knife: “Azerbaijan has accused Armenia of violating the peace deal first,” the report continues, “but observers note the only provocation Muslims need to attack Armenians is their continued existence.”

Democratic Republic of Congo:  Members of the Allied Democratic Forces, widely acknowledged as “an insurgent jihadist group,” slaughtered at least 30 Christians and raped ten women and girls in five villages between Nov. 20 and Dec. 3. One of the survivors, Tony Longi, managed to escape his home in time and hide in the outside bathroom: “through the ventilator of the latrine he saw the rebels killing 4 members of his family including his wife and 3 children.”  According to one local official, “We got information that as they killed the Christians the[y] were saying that they were killing them because they refused to convert to Islam.”  Another report describing these raids said there were “scenes of terrified Christians flooding into the streets as the jihadists surrounded churches in each of the five villages armed with guns, machetes, clubs, swords and axes.”

Attacks on Muslim Converts and Christian Preachers

Uganda:  A Muslim man beat and forced his wife to drink pesticide on learning that she had become Christian.   Three months after Zubeda Nabirye, a 38-year-old mother of three, had secretly converted, her husband discovered Bibles in her possession and demanded if she had apostatized.  She told him that  “a friend had given me the Bibles, and I was using it to compare it with what is written in the Koran, and after all religion is a matter of personal choice”; she added that “I was convicted and decided to embrace Christianity.”  In response, “My husband began reading verses in the Koran that allowed men to beat their wives if they disobey them, and after that he started beating me with slaps and sticks.  As if this was not enough, he forced me to take Dithane M-45,” a toxic pesticide.  He forced the poison into his wife’s mouth; though she managed not to swallow most of it, she “ingested some while he was trying to strangle her and hitting her leg with sticks… He also injured her chest, neck and thigh.” It was late in the night when “I regained consciousness and found myself surrounded by neighbors.” One of them later explained that “we heard groaning from a nearby banana plant, and there we found Zubeda Nabirye, who had just regained her consciousness but with vomit and blood all over her body.”  They took her to a nearby hospital. According to the Dec. 17 report, “she suspects her husband took her to the banana plants expecting she would die there.”  Even so, she did “not file charges with police over the assault as it could provoke further violence.  She still looks very weak and asks about the wellbeing of her three children,” who at the time were staying with her husband’s mother due to COVID-19 travel restrictions: “I am worried about my children [aged 9, 13, and 16], who are under the care of my mother-in-law,” Zubeda said. “I know it will be very difficult for me to see them and reunite with them.”

In a separate incident in Uganda, on Dec. 21, Muslims gang-raped a female church pastor. The widowed mother of five was walking home from Christmas preparations at her church when she heard someone crying for help in the dark. “When I stopped,” explained the 50-year-old whose name is withheld for security reasons, “I was surprised to see people coming from the bush, and one of them shouted in the Arabic language, ‘Allah is greater—we have warned you several times to stop converting Muslims to Christianity. Today we shall teach you a lesson that you will not forget.’”  One of the men covered her mouth with a chemical-doused handkerchief that caused her to lose consciousness.  She awoke three hours later and was found by her nephew.  “He saw blood on my torn skirt. He could not stop tears rolling from his cheeks, crying and shouting for help, and he took me to a nearby clinic for medical treatment.”  Two months earlier, a Muslim neighbor had complained to her:  “I am warning you not to come to our home. My children are now singing some Christian songs. I know soon they will come to your church. We as Muslims have no relations with infidels.”  A church member said the rape victim remains traumatized: “Sometimes she is quiet for about one hour; … she is having severe headache[s], swelling at her neck and severe pain in her private parts.”  “I am hurt,” confirmed the visibly emotional and tearful pastor from her hospital bed during an interview on Christmas Eve. “I will miss Christmas celebration with my church members….  I hope these Muslim rapists have not infected me with deadly diseases. I forgive them,” added the mother of five who was widowed five years earlier.

Attacks on Churches

Pakistan: On Christmas day, a mob consisting of as many as 60 Muslim men attacked a church during Christmas service.  According to the Dec. 30 report, “They aimed to kidnap and assault the women in attendance.”  However, the church’s security guards and male congregants “fought back with bare hands against the staff-wielding intruders, giving the women time to escape. Many Christian men suffered blunt trauma injuries and fractures in the fight.”  Before things got violent, the Muslim invaders had made derogatory comments about the Christian women, adding that they were “looking dashing today. Let us have all of them in our beds.”  When one of the Christian defenders angrily rose up, “The Muslims,” he said, “warned me never to stop them from doing whatever they wanted to do with Christian girls.”  On arriving, the authorities “helped the defeated Muslims escape, and blamed Christians for fighting back.”  According to a spokesman for the Christians,

They scolded and threatened the Christian community, the Christian church, saying it’s illegal to have their own security. Which is truly an unjustified and illegal action by the police, because it was announced by the government of Pakistan two years ago, that every church must have its own security. They must have their own CCTV cameras, barbed wires, and medical equipment.

Sudan:  A temporary church structure of the Sudanese Church of Christ has been burned down five times by what one pastor described as “radical Muslims.”  They also threatened to butcher the Christians if they dared erect another tent again. According to the Dec. 22 report, “Saying they didn’t want a Christian presence in the area, the extremists have burned down the structures on Jan. 19, 2019, and this year on Jan. 4, Jan. 19, Jan. 28, and Aug. 7…. The church decided to report the attacks to police after the Aug. 7 arson in spite of the threats.”  The original church building, which had been in operation since 1993, was first torched in 2019; since then the 150-member congregation have been setting up and worshipping inside tents, though all five have been “reduced to ashes along with Bibles and prayer books.”  Church members identified several of the assailants.  Police initially refused to file a case until an attorney got involved.  Five of nine suspects involved have been arrested.

Discrimination, Misogyny, and Violence against Christians

Egypt:  In what human rights activists described as an “egregious miscarriage of justice,” a court acquitted three Muslim men charged with assaulting a Christian grandmother, including by spitting on and beating her, stripping her naked and parading her in the streets of their village, on the accusation that her son was romantically involved with a Muslim woman.   Although this attack took place in 2016, and although video evidence and witnesses have identified the three Muslim men, the Egyptian courts refused to render a decision.  As a Dec. 21 press release from Coptic Solidarity explains:

After multiple delay tactics, including judges ‘recusing’ themselves and retrials by different court circuits, the case reached this sad conclusion. The Egyptian judiciary has revealed their true face of Islamist fanaticism and blatant bias against Coptic victims. This is indeed shameful for a country that has employed some form of a ‘modern’ justice system for 150 years.

Upon hearing news of the court ruling, Mrs. Thabet [the victim], burst into tears, simply saying “What shall I do after being so humiliated! My right is in the hands of my Lord who shall render me His justice.”

Pakistan/China: Christian and Hindu women in Pakistan are being marketed to China as concubines and forced brides, a Dec. 9 report revealed.  Due to China’s longstanding one-child only policy and cultural preference for boys, the nation suffers from an acute shortage of females, causing Chinese men to import women from abroad. Speaking on Dec. 8, the top U.S. diplomat for religious freedom, Samuel Brownback, said that “religious minorities, Christian and Hindu women” from Pakistan are “being marketed as concubines and as forced as brides [sic] into China.”  This is because “there’s discrimination against religious minorities that make them more vulnerable” in Muslim Pakistan, he added.

France: “Handwritten letters were mailed to seven black African priests with their names and the address of the rectory where they live,” reported the Vicar General of the Diocese of Avignon Pascal Molemb Emock: “The mail only says ‘Allah Akbar’ in French and in Arabic.”  Because violent Islamic attacks on clergymen and Christians in general have been escalating in France—five weeks earlier a Muslim man crying “Allahu Akbar” entered a church and slaughtered three Christians in Nice—an investigation was quickly opened. As a police source explained on Dec. 9, “These are not direct death threats, but in the context of a terrorist threat, this matter is taken very seriously.” “I am not afraid for myself,” commented one of the priests. “I will continue to live alone in my rectory. But I am responsible for a community, I must be careful for the parishioners.”

Iraq: At least 14 shops that sell alcohol in Baghdad—most of which are owned by Christians—were firebombed throughout November and December.  According to the Dec. 16 report, these escalating attacks have “terrified shop-owners who fear hardline Islamists are flexing their muscle against alcohol consumption.”   Discussing the situation, Andre, an Iraqi Christian, said the recent bombing of his shop has cost him thousands of dollars in repairs.  “These groups want the last of the Christians to leave the country,” he said of the attackers: “They’re targeting us.”  He also blamed security forces for leaving their post for hours, thereby providing the attackers with “time to place the explosives, take pictures before and after and publish them on Facebook.”  “Why doesn’t the government arrest them?” he added, pointing out that he had even provided authorities with the license plate number of the attacking vehicle as captured by the store’s surveillance camera.

Christmastime Terror

Spain: On Christmas day, a Muslim of Moroccan background, known only as Muhammad Q., stalked through a Christmas street celebration while brandishing a machete and crying out, “Allahu akbar, I’m going to kill you,” at random passersby. He lunged at police when they arrived and slightly injured them, though they managed to subdue and arrest him.  Subsequent investigations revealed that the 45-year-old had a criminal record relating to the sexual abuse of a minor and ties to the Islamic State.

France: A group of Muslims thrashed another Muslim for participating in a Christmas Day dinner.  After Nabil, 20, published pictures of the dinner online, a schoolmate expressed his “shock” via text that a fellow Muslim would celebrate Christmas, at one point texting, “I’ll show you what a real Arab is.”  Nabil and his scandalized Muslim schoolmate then agreed to meet and discuss the matter; but when Nabil arrived, the schoolmate and four other men ambushed and beat him, leaving him with a bloodied and bruised face and a warning not to report the incident to police or else.  Undeterred, he contacted local authorities who subsequently arrested the schoolmate.  During his trial, he continued to assert his “shock” that Nabil had posted such pictures, adding “It is not Muslim to celebrate Christmas.”

Western Europe: Some Christians celebrated Christmas under threat in a few nations:  According to a Dec. 3 report, British intelligence, relying on a former al-Qaeda bomb-maker, warned that “a senior Isis commander is plotting a Christmas terror campaign in European countries, including Britain.”  The Muslim terrorists had reportedly “decided to try and use the lifting of lockdown restrictions during the Christmas period to launch attacks in Europe, in particular against the UK, France and Germany.”

Germany: In a video that appears embedded in a Dec. 19 article, a Muslim cleric living in Braunschweig declares that “Christmas is an insult to Allah”

About this Series

The persecution of Christians in the Islamic world has become endemic.  Accordingly, “Muslim Persecution of Christians” was developed in 2011 to collate some—by no means all—of the instances of persecution that occur or are reported each month. It serves two purposes:

1)          To document that which the mainstream media does not: the habitual, if not chronic, persecution of Christians.

2)          To show that such persecution is not “random,” but systematic and interrelated—that it is rooted in a worldview inspired by Islamic Sharia.

Accordingly, whatever the anecdote of persecution, it typically fits under a specific theme, including hatred for churches and other Christian symbols; apostasy, blasphemy, and proselytism laws that criminalize and sometimes punish with death those who “offend” Islam; sexual abuse of Christian women; forced conversions to Islam;  theft and plunder in lieu of jizya (financial tribute expected from non-Muslims); overall expectations for Christians to behave like cowed dhimmis, or second-class, “tolerated” citizens; and simple violence and murder. Sometimes it is a combination thereof.

Because these accounts of persecution span different ethnicities, languages, and locales—from Morocco in the West, to Indonesia in the East—it should be clear that one thing alone binds them: Islam—whether the strict application of Islamic Sharia law, or the supremacist culture born of it.

Previous Reports - monthly back to 2011

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 14

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Jagged's Shark! Doo doo doo doo doo doo!

Notes: Jagged’s shark! Doo doo doo doo doo doo! (@norakwami​ fault, there.) For real, though. Look up the lawyer’s first and last name for extra lulz. I research too much. And also I love puns. Also researched diplomatic immunity—Lila’s mom could refuse to waive it only for her bosses to override her and waive it anyway. And for serious crimes that’s sometimes the case. I wanted some Alya sugar here; yeah, she and multiple other people believed Lila and dismissed Marinette's concerns. The adults are the ones who deserve salt, though. Not a 14-year-old.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

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They were still waiting for M. Damocles to finish contacting Mme. Rossi, Marinette having fallen asleep against Sabine and Adrien tempted to follow suit, when a commotion caught their attention. Marinette blinked awake at the shouting.

Curious, Adrien got up to peer around the corner. What he saw left him gaping.

Mme. Bustier’s class had spilled out of the classroom, and were watching as Lila and her mother yelled at each other in rapid-fire Italian, both red-faced. It was almost shocking how they met the stereotype of the hot-blooded Italian in their fervor.

Adrien watched, captivated, only vaguely aware when he was joined by the others, and when the lawyer knocked on the principal’s door and let him know about the “spectacle,” as she called it.

Marinette cried out, her face pale, pointing at a butterfly hovering near the scene. Alya took out her phone to record it, her face a mix of horror and excitement, as though she wasn’t sure she wanted an Akuma just now. Mylène started crying. Juleka moved protectively in front of Rose. Other classroom doors were opening as teachers and students alike came to investigate the commotion.

The Akuma hovered, seemingly uncertain as to which of the Rossis it wanted to go after. Unfortunately, Lila saw it, her expression brightening as she dashed toward it.

“I’ll show you all!”

Adrien gasped as the girl touched her pendant to the Akuma and a familiar butterfly-shaped mask appeared over her face. She would come after him and Marinette, and probably Luka and Kagami. And Jagged and Penny and the lawyer and Tom and Sabine… They were all defenseless. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get away quick enough to protect them.

As he stood there, frozen, Alya dropped her phone, rushed forward, and clocked Lila in the face. Once she was on the ground, she ripped the necklace from her neck. Mme. Mendeleiev rushed forward with a large beaker from her chemistry lab as Alya broke the pendant, capturing it and covering the opening with a book.

Marinette rushing past him unfroze Adrien, and he ran after her as she hugged a pale, panting Alya.

“Alya, that was amazing,” she breathed. “You saved everyone.”

“Mari— Oh, god, Mari. She wanted to be Akumatized. She was going to go after you and hurt you, and I just couldn’t—” Alya was sobbing in her arms, babbling. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I’ve been a terrible friend! You tried to tell me, and p-protect me and instead I believed someone I barely knew instead of you. I c-couldn’t let her hurt you!”

As Marinette reassured her, Mme. Mendeleiev told a pallid and shaking M. Damocles that she would put the Akuma somewhere Lila couldn’t reach it for Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with later.

Lila was keening softly on the ground, her nose obviously broken with this punch, and Adrien couldn’t help but feel a bit of schadenfreude at the sight. Her mother seemed frozen in shock, not even moving forward to comfort her daughter.

“Alya got the Akuma on video,” he murmured, thinking aloud. “So there’s video of Lila going after it to be voluntarily Akumatized.”

Nino picked up Alya’s phone, checking to see that nothing was broken. He pressed the screen to stop the recording. “Yeah, dude. She totally did. Sabrina, you might wanna call your dad. This is big.”

Sabrina immediately pulled out her phone and retreated into the classroom; Chloé blocked the door to make sure Lila didn’t try to stop her, though it seemed unnecessary—the girl gave no indication she’d heard.

M. Damocles stepped forward toward Mme. Rossi. “We will need to have a conversation about your daughter, but perhaps that will need to wait until after her arrest.”

Mme. Rossi turned white, eyes wide. “A-arrest?!”

“Your daughter just knowingly and willingly attempted to aid and abet a terrorist, Mme. Rossi,” the lawyer said, not unkindly. “She will face far more than just the lawsuits by M. Stone, M. Dupain, and Mme. Cheng.”

She stared at the lawyer as though uncomprehending.

“Of course, you could claim diplomatic immunity for your daughter, but it is likely she will at least be expelled from France, though France may choose to refer this matter to the Court of Justice of the European Union, as anti-terrorism laws extend beyond our borders.”

“Who are you?” Mme. Rossi finally demanded.

The lawyer smiled her best shark smile. “I am the head of M. Stone’s legal team, Maître Eulalie Reschignier.”

Adrien tried not to smile when he realized her name was almost a pun.

“My daughter has diplomatic immunity from all lawsuits, as I’m sure you are aware.”

The shark smile became a bit toothy. “We’re aware of that, but also aware that she can be expelled from France at the discretion of the French government.”

Whatever response Lila’s mother intended to give was interrupted by the arrival of Lieutenant Raincomprix and a retinue of other officers.

Nino stepped forward and played the video for the officers. Afterward, Roger approached the still-crying Alya to explain they’d have to take in her phone as evidence until the file could be processed. She just nodded, accepting the temporary loss; she hadn’t let go of Marinette yet.

Then he turned to Mme. Rossi. “We’ll have her injuries checked at the station, but it appears your daughter was attempting to voluntarily become an Akuma. While Akuma victims are never prosecuted, this is a very different issue.”

Mme. Rossi balked. “My daughter has diplomatic immunity!”

“We’re aware,” Officer Raincomprix said with a nod. “Since she has diplomatic immunity, she’ll be moved to a facility outside of Paris pending her likely expulsion back to Italy. Since she attempted to aid and abet a terrorist, your home country will decide whether to waive her diplomatic immunity, but regardless she is too dangerous to keep in Paris.”

That silenced Mme. Rossi, as she realized the limits of the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations.

Several officers helped Lila off the ground and led her down the stairs toward the school entrance, followed closely by Mme. Rossi.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief at their exit. He doubted they’d ever have to deal with Lila again—at least not in person. And he was willing to bet Italy would take a long hard look at her. Meeting Marinette’s eyes, he could see she was having similar balming thoughts; it’d take them all a while to heal from this—especially if the tears still streaming down Alya’s cheeks and the guilt in her eyes were any indication—but they’d move past this somehow, and hopefully their relationships would all be strengthened.

M. Damocles cleared his throat. “Are we finished here?”

Jagged’s smile was almost malicious. “I don’t think so. Eulalie?”

Maître Reschignier turned to the principal. “It seems Mlle. Rossi’s removal from class will no longer be necessary. Instead, we seek anti-bullying and anti-harassment training for all school personnel in addition to the investigation into the treatment of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien couldn’t help but notice the elated smile that graced Mme. Mendeleiev’s face briefly, taking years off her appearance, before disappearing under her usual scowl. She, at least, was clearly not opposed to any of that. Mme. Bustier, however, looked displeased—and given that she’d rolled over multiple times to enable both Chloé and Lila, he wasn’t surprised.

The lawyer smiled, this time sincerely, at Adrien and Marinette. “I believe M. Agreste and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng would be best served returning to their class while M. Stone, Mme. Rolling, M. Dupain, and Mme. Cheng iron out the specifics with you in your office, M. Damocles.”

“Ah… Of course, Maître Reschignier.” The principal pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his brow. “That seems best.”

Mme. Bustier gestured to enter the classroom. As Adrien moved past the lawyer, she murmured, “I do hope your father will present more of a challenge, M. Agreste.”

He couldn’t hold in his laughter—oh, Adrien hoped she wrecked Gabriel Agreste.

And that he had a front-row seat when she did. And maybe some popcorn.

[everlarkficexchange]

December nights in June

written by @viloula

Rated: M

Prompt 110: AU. Everlark live across from each other in fancy New York (or the like) penthouses. With all those large windows, they see each other daily and know the other’s routine and all he/she does, but they’ve never met. A chance meeting occurs. What will happen? The circumstances of their living arrangements/any backstory and what happens between them is up to you. [submitted by @acpoe82]

Summary: Peeta Mellark may be a successful junior partner at the lawfirm of Finnick Odair, he isn’t a successful partner at all when it comes to love. Every night when he comes home, he watches the lights of New York City, the people on the street… and a mysterious neighbour.

Part II is coming up!

Prologue

When he moved from the small town where he grew up to the big apple, the most fascinating thing about New York were the lights. Where he came from, there were only that many lights in December. Here, every night was like December. Lights everywhere: lights from windows, cars, streetlights. It was years ago when he changed a place where the only noises were the songs of birds to a place were it was never silent. The city that never sleeps.

He got used to the noises. But never to the lights he loved so much. Every night, when he came home from another day at the office, he stood there in front of his large window, watching the street, watching the other windows. He loved the fact that behind every window was another story.

***

January

“Peeta! I changed your appointment with mister Heavensbee to 2 o’clock. There are new files in the Cato/Clove case, and…”

“Good morning Delly,” Peeta smiled. “Thank you. Can I first…”

“I brought you a double espresso.”

“How can I live without you.”

“Not.” Delly Cartwright, his secretary, gave him his double espresso. “Have you seen Finnick?”

“The boss?” Peter grinned. “Think he won’t be there until noon. I’m at my office.”

He walked to his office, holding the warm cup of his favourite drink. His desk was filled with new documents of the Cato/Clove case. It was a law suit he was working on for a couple of weeks. An love affair at a firm between the managing director and an associate, that same managing director being sued by that same associate because she couldn’t finish her internship. It was his task to defend the managing director. A hard task, really. He tried to make arrangements between the parties instead of going to court, but the lawyer of the associate is a woman he knew from law school, Madge. Madge still can’t get over the fact that Peeta always won moot court against her, and also not over the fact that he broke up with her after she cheated. Sometimes, it felt like his life was a soap.

“Mellark! You need to come with me, right now.” Finnick Odair stepped into his office. He did that quite a lot. He always act like it is an emergency, but most of the time it was not. Peeta liked his boss. Although Finnick is a bit, well, Finnick, he is the best lawyer Peeta knew. And Peeta was proud to work for him. Proud to tell people that he was a junior partner of Odair, one of the finest law firms of New York.

“I’m sorry boss, as you can see, I’m busy reading new complaints about my client,” Peeta told him and laughed.

“You come with me now, or we are going to have an love affair.”

“You know, I am not your associate.”

“You were.”

“You missed your chance.”

“You will always be my special associate.”

“Finnick, what are you doing here,” Peeta laughed.

“I need your help.” Finnick sat down in one of Peeta’s chairs, in front of his desk. “I need a pro bono case.”

“Right.” Peeta rolled his eyes. “I need another file of complaints of Madge.”

“I’m serious.”

“Finnick, you never do pro bono cases.”

“That’s why I need you.”

Peeta sighed. “What can I do for you.”

–

Again. Peeta looked at his watch. 11 pm and he just got home. But, he might have found a way to beat Madge, thanks to Finnick.

He threw his leather bag gently against the kitchen wall and took off his coat and shoes. He couldn’t wait for spring and not having to use it anymore. He took off the jacket of his suit and he poured himself a glass of red wine. He loved his job, but his favourite part of the day was coming home.

After moving a lot, last year he was able to buy his apartment. It was a small place to live, big enough for a young man who isn’t home that much. There was a bathroom with plenty of space, a bedroom on the side of the street and a small living room with a comfy couch. There was also a bookcase he build. The bookcase covered almost the whole wall and was filled with many books: from Shakespeare to Alcott, from Reve to Montesquieu. After a whole day of reading files at work, most of the time he was too tired to read when he got home, but when he went on a holiday, he loved to read. 

Peeta’s favourite part of his apartment was his kitchen. The kitchen was in the same room as the living room and he spend a lot of money to have the kitchen of his dreams. During the weekends, he loved to cook and bake. Finnick loved to come over then, especially when he made his famous risotto.

He grew up in a small-town bakery. During his youth, he worked together with his father and two older brothers. He was responsible for the decoration of cakes which he loved to do. When he became older, he thought of going to college and take business classes, so he could take over the bakery from his father. Or well, that was what his mum was trying to convince him for. He was lucky his dad supported him with going to Harvard Law School. When he actually got accepted, his mother turned 180 degrees and she couldn’t stop bragging about her youngest son being a student at Harvard, later being a lawyer.

Like every night, he stood in front of his window, enjoying his glass of wine he thought he had earned today. He opened the window, felt the cold breeze of the late night wind.

On the street, some people were rushing by walking fast. Clearly the kind of people who felt uncomfortable walking in the darkness. He felt the same way when he just moved to New York, but after a few months, he realised there was never actually darkness in the city. You just had to be careful.

His eye fell on a window across the street. There was a woman, also holding a glass. Her hair was long and dark, and her face… he wished he could have seen it from a less big distance.

She was wearing a strapless dress, as if she just got home from a party. She was petite. She was beautiful. He had never seen her, but maybe he didn’t really noticed her window yet, there were so many things to see.

It looked like she looked at him. What colour were her eyes? He couldn’t tell. Could she also see him? He wanted to wave, but that would be weird. She was so stunning, he had never seen someone like her before.

His glass was almost empty. After he drank it up, he took a shower and went to bed when the new day started.

–

When Peeta parked his bicycle, he saw the name partner of the firm walking to the entrance. It was a sunny January day, the sunlight made the curls of Finnick turn into bronze.

“Good morning Finnick,” Peeta said.

“Good morning man. Seriously, still by bike?”

“You can get a man out of Amsterdam, but you can’t get Amsterdam out of the man,” Peeta joked, referring to his interview with Finnick where Finnick thought he was Dutch.

“Good point.” The two lawyers walked into the firm. “So, did you find me a pro bono yesterday?”

“I actually did.” They walked to the elevator, Finnick pressed the ‘11’ button. “You are going to defend a man who will be kicked out of his apartment,” Peeta said.

“A rented apartment?” When the doors opened, they walked to Peeta’s office.

“Yes.” Peeta waved to Delly, who was having a phone call.

“Good, you’re very good with cases like that.”

“That’s true. But then again, is there a case I’m not good at?”

“Madge cases?”

“Ah come on.” Peeta sat down, noticed that Delly brought him his daily double espresso. “But wait, me? I thought you wanted a pro bono.”

“I want a pro bono, but you’re going to fix it.” Finnick stood in front of the huge window in Peeta’s office. Peeta loved the fact that he had a window like that: there was always so much daylight, and at night the lights of the city. Though, he preferred his view at home.

“Finn, I’m not your associate anymore. I have this arrangement to settle with mister Heavens…”

“But you are my best friend and you are also the best social lawyer I know and I need you to do that pro bono.”

“But why? A case with a man being kicked out of his apartment is not that hard to do.”

“I just… I just want to do more pro bono cases in the firm and you are good with people.” Finnick had a strange look on his face. Peeta knew him for almost 10 years and he had never seen that look before.

“There is something you’re not telling me Odair.”

“Don’t make me beg Mellark. I promise I will tell you when the time is there.”

Peeta knew something was going on. “Fine. But what about the merge of mister Heavensbee?”

“Thresh can take it over.” Finnick walked to the door. “Thank you Peeta. You’re not only a good lawyer, you’re also a good friend.”

“It’s fine Finnick. I will see my name on the wall next week.”

Finnick laughed. “Are you making risotto this weekend?”

“Really?” Peeta laughed while he turned on his Macbook. “Fine. I will.”

Finnick gave him a thumps up and left the office. He looked… more happy than usual. There was no time to think about what was going on in Finnick’s head. Peeta looked at the pro bono case, which was at his desk with a post-it note, Delly’s handwriting on it. “Have fun!” she wrote. He smiled. Actually, he didn’t really mind working on a pro bono case. He would rather be the lawyer of someone who truly needs it, instead of being a lawyer for someone who wants to make more money. But in the end, he just loved being a lawyer; helping everyone.

–

10 pm. An hour earlier than yesterday. As usual, Peeta took of his coat and shoes, his jacket from his suit, he poured himself a glass of red wine and walked to his huge window. Immediately, he saw the woman from yesterday. She was talking to the phone and wore something comfy and green.

He didn’t know what it was that took his attention. Was it the way she moved her lips, her body? Her dark hair, her eyes he still didn’t know the colour of?

What is her name, he thought. It must be something unusual, or something really classy. Or both.

He walked to his bookcase, where his vinylplayer was, and put on some music.

“Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night…”

He sat down on his couch. Maybe her name is Rhiannon? He rolled his eyes at himself. He needed to stop.

But he couldn’t. All night long, he thought about what her name could be, what she would sound like, what the colour of her eyes were, what she liked to do and what she didn’t like to do. When he lied in his bed and wanted to close his eyes, his thoughts kept him awake. What would she be like? He had a feeling she was special, he didn’t know why. Maybe because he wanted her to be special, maybe because he wants someone special. Maybe he wanted to be special to someone special.

He needed to stop thinking about his beautiful, mysterious neighbour. How long was it ago, the last time he had his heart broken? When will he ever learn… He turned to lay on his back. In front of him, he could still see the hall of his old apartment. That white brick wall, with a picture of a cow and a windmill he got from Finnick as present for becoming a junior partner. It was that moment he noticed it had a crack on the left corner. He could still hear the sound of his fiancés voice, yelling to whoever it was that they could do it at least 10 more times before Peeta gets home.

***

February

January turned into the strange month called February. Peeta was on the road to meet mister Abernathy, his client in the pro bono case. Finnick was proud seeing him travelling to work by car, proud seeing him acting like he lives in New Amsterdam instead of Amsterdam.

While driving, he thought of a strange thing that happened to him this morning. It was the first time these weeks he saw her in the morning. He was up earlier than usual, and when he walked into his kitchen, he saw her. She stood in front of her window, holding a cup, he guessed it must be coffee. She wore something casual, a plaid shirt and jeans. Her hair was in a braid.

She put her cup away and suddenly started to dance, and probably singing, because her lips were moving. Peeta was amazed by what he saw. The way she moved her body was so beautiful yet so sexy. Unfortunately, her dancing wasn’t for a long time. She looked outside her window. She saw him staring.

Peeta started sweating, he took off his glasses, as if then he couldn’t see anymore that she saw him staring. He put them back on, like he realised it was a stupid thing to do.

She smiled and waved at him. He waved back. He wondered if she had the day off. He wondered if he could go to her door, introduce himself, drink something and talk about everything. He looked at his watch and realised it was time to go to work. He looked to her window, she was still standing there, watching him. Peeta grabbed his leather bag, hold it a bit higher so she could see it. Again she waved. He waved back. “Have good day, beautiful,” he said softly.

Peeta parked his car and tried to get his mind back to work. He felt kinda guilty that he had a car of his own, it seemed that this was a kind of neighbourhood where not many people could afford one. After a few minutes, he found the right address and knocked on the door, because there was a post-it note that the doorbell wasn’t properly working.

A blond man in his 50s who smelled like whiskey opened the door. “Are you my saviour?”

Peeta laughed. “I hope so. My name is Peeta, I am your lawyer in the case against your landlord.”

“Well, come in kid.”

Peeta was never called kid before by a client, but he didn’t mind. He had a feeling this wasn’t the last time he was going to be called ‘kid’.

The man walked into his apartment. Peeta went inside, closed the door and followed him. There were a couple of empty bottles, but it looked like mister Abernathy just cleaned the place. The place wasn’t that big, it was a small studio, filled with old, brown furniture. Peeta saw some pictures on the wall, of children in the forest.

“Ah yes,” his client said when he saw Peeta looking at the pictures. “I loved my job.”

“You don’t have a job anymore?” Peeta asked.

“Why else would I drink whiskey during this time of the day?”

“Fair enough,” Peeta said with a laugh. This man was very strange, but in a good way.

“Name is Haymitch,” he said and gave Peeta a hand.

“Peeta,” Peeta said again.

“Not Peter?”

“No.”

“Can I call you Peter?”

“Also, no.” Peeta looked at the pictures again. There 15, maybe 20 pictures hanging on the wall. “What was your job?”

“I was running a summer camp for kids, with outdoor activities and stuff like that. Lost the job because I showed up drunk too much. Now I am going to lose my living place as well.”

“We will see about that,” Peeta said and sat down on a chair. “Tell me your side of the story.”

“Well, I stopped paying my rent.”

“Why did you?”

Haymitch looked at Peeta. “You have a nice suit.”

“Thank you. But why did you stop paying your rent?”

“Because my landlord, mister Snow, is terrorising me. He is making this place a horrible place to live. I have lived here since my wife died 25 years ago. Suddenly, since 2 months I keep finding these cockroaches in my kitchen. I may be an alcoholic, but I am not filthy.”

“And you think your landlord has something to do with it?”

“It must be. I know it.”

Yes, Peeta thought, but you also have to prove it.

–

The raindrops were covering his glasses as he stepped out of the car and ran to his front door. Where the hell were his keys? He searched with his hands in his pockets, finally finding them, in the mean time becoming more wet because of the rain. As if it were a natural move, he looked across the street, looking for his mysterious neighbour he couldn’t stop thinking about during his ride back home. No one in sight. Peeta stepped inside, took the stairs and was finally home. He looked at his watch. 8 pm. He finally had the chance to make dinner instead of eating at the office!

After he changed his suit into sweatpants and a hoodie, he looked what ingredients he had in his kitchen. Not much, he really had to do some grocery shopping soon. Some pasta, there was also pesto. Pasta pesto it was going to be. He felt like he was a student again. He wished he was still a student, at least then he still had time to make dinner for himself every night.

While cutting some tomatoes, he looked out of his window. She was back, folding some laundry now. She was still wearing the same outfit as when he saw her in the morning. He hoped she wouldn’t look at his window right now.

His dinner was ready. When he walked to his kitchen table, he looked out of his window again. She stood there, she was watching him. She waved. He put his plate on the table and waved back.

Maybe one day, he thought. Maybe one day she will be sitting here across me, eating this student meal with me. He would ask her about her day and he would tell her that he is working on a pro bono case, and if she didn’t know what that meant, he would explain it if she wanted to know. He would ask her about everything and he would answer all of her questions if she had any. He would ask her if she wanted some tea or an espresso, or a glass of wine. He would invite her to come over some day in the weekend, promising that there would be self-made cookies.

Again, he rolled his eyes at himself. When will he ever learn. He closed his eyes. He could hear her voice again, yelling at him. “You are always gone, always working! And now you blame me for finding attention?”

“Finding attention?” he shouted back. “Is that what you call the cheating? With my best friend?”

“It was just the attention! You have my heart!”

“You can have it back!” Peeta shouted. “We’re over!”

The months after the break-up,  he felt miserable and a failure. At work, he was successful: he was quite young being a junior partner and he managed to bring lots of new clients to the firm. But he sucked being a partner for a woman he loved: not once, but twice his girlfriend would cheat on him because he was working too much.

He looked at the window again. She was gone. It has been 2 years after his break-up with Glimmer. Maybe his heart wanted to love again. To love and to be loved.

His phone rang. Finnick.

“Boss?”

“Hi, I saw you left earlier today.”

“I did, nothing more left to do.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that. How is the case of mister Abernathy?”

Peeta raised his eyebrow. “Fine. Trying to find evidence.”

“Think you’re going to win?”

“Of course.”

“Can you come to office? I’ve got this case and I really need your thoughts about it.”

Before Peeta could say something, Finnick hung up. Peeta rushed to his bedroom, changing his sweatpants and hoodie for something more suitable.

–

It was Valentinesday and it has been 4 weeks since Peeta saw her for the first time. Now they wave at each other on a daily basis: sometimes also in the morning, but every night. He was looking forward to it actually. He was also looking forward for growing some courage and ringing her doorbell. What is a better day for showing 2 minutes of courage?

“Happy Valentines day love,” Finnick said when Peeta walked into his office. Finnick was wearing a tie with both pink and red stripes. It would look horrible on everyone, but he could pull it off.

“Happy Valentines day to you too,” Peeta laughed. “And, did you…”

“Not here. So, how is the Madge case?”

“Really? Are you asking about my ex on this beautiful day?” Peeta laughed.

“She’s hot tho.”

“Case is going well. Court hearing next week, going to kick ass.”

“That’s my boy. So, plans for tonight?”

Peeta thought of his plan of growing courage and ringing the doorbell of his mysterious, beautiful neighbour.

“You have a plan.” Finnick laughed. “Getting drunk?”

“Yes,” Peeta said quickly.

“You deserve to have real plans though.” Finnick looked at him. “You are a good person. And a good lawyer if you return to your office right now and take a call with Crane Holdings.”

–

8 pm. It is a bit late, but it could’ve been later. But, Peeta thought, if this is the start of something new, I need to learn from my mistakes.

Quickly he changed his clothes into something more casual, he felt like showing up in his suit would be a bit overkill. A jeans and a shirt maybe? Maybe she didn’t want him to come in. He put on a pair of jeans and a green shirt. She had a lot of plants in her apartment, so he figured that she would love the colour green.

He took a deep breath and took his coat. He looked in the mirror. His curls clearly didn’t want to work with him today. He sighed. Grow some courage, he told himself.

Once more, he looked through his window. She was home. She was…

She was naked. She walked to somewhere he didn’t know. He could see her breasts, her bottom, her stomach, her long legs. She wore her hair down. He fantasized about her a lot these days, but he couldn’t dream of her being so beautiful as she actually was.

Am I dreaming? he thought. Maybe she just took a shower. Maybe I should wait. I should stop staring before she sees it.

But then he saw why she was naked. A tall man walked behind her, he grabbed her and kissed her.

Of course she is seeing someone. When will I ever learn? I am such a fool.

His phone rang.

“Boss?”

“I’m so sorry, but are you able to come to office or are you too drunk? It is really important.”

“Nah.” Peeta tried to keep himself together. Why did it hurt him so much? He didn’t know her, hell, he didn’t even know her name, or what her voice sounds like! “I can come.”

Finnick hung up. Peeta looked out of the window once more. She was gone.

–

Days went by. When Peeta walked in his apartment, it was 11 pm as usual. He threw his leather bag gently against the wall, took off his coat and shoes, the jacket of his suit and poured himself a glass of wine. Every night, he was trying to look to the city lights without looking at her. There were so many windows to look at, or cars, or people walking on the street. He tried to just look to those people walking on the street. He tried to read a book. He tried to play some music.

But he couldn’t. She was there every night, and there was something about her. What would she do during daytime? he wondered. Did she have a job? What was her age? What would her hobbies be?

Doing fun stuff with her boyfriend, you fool. Peeta sighed. He really needed to stop watching.

–

**

March

“My hero! You won!” Finnick laughed when Peeta walked into his office. It was already dark outside, the lights of the night shined bright.

“I actually didn’t win, I made an arrangement.”

“An arrangement that lets mister Abernathy keep his place to live! Can I get you something to drink?”

“You can tell me when you let me meet her,” Peeta said and winked. “The woman who made Odair do more pro bono cases.”

“It is for the goodwill of the firm.”

“Yes, of course. And your own.”

“I am one with the firm.”

“You sure are,” Peeta laughed. “But yes, I would love something to drink.”

Finnick poured two glasses of wine for them. “Well, it will be just a matter of time before your name will be next to mine. You are really, really talented. That bluffing, extraordinary.”

Peeta looked outside. No window with her.

“Santé Peet,” Finnick said when he gave Peeta a glass of wine.

–

1 am. Time for a midnight shower, his favourite kind of shower after the 3 am shower. It was a long time ago that he came home from work this late, but he had to admit it was not really work if you talk all night with Finnick, drinking wine.

He closed his eyes when the water washed his body. It has been a couple of weeks, but he still couldn’t stop thinking about how sad he was she was seeing somebody. And he couldn’t stop thinking about how he missed thinking about her without feeling guilty. He couldn’t stop wondering what her name was, how she would sound like, why he was thinking about her all the time. Could it actually be possible to fall in love with somebody you haven’t met? Maybe it was like F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in the Great Gatsby: maybe it was a tender curiosity. Her smile is so beautiful, she, she is so beautiful, so pure. He had that feeling he couldn’t explain.  It had been so hard, trying not to want to look, trying not to want to think. And here he found himself again thinking about her.

He could feel himself getting hard. For a moment, he thought about touching himself. But it felt wrong.

He turned the water off, dried himself with a towel and put on a boxer short. When he walked to his bedroom, he tried not to look, but he did.

The light was on in her apartment. Was she a night owl?

Then he saw her. He could see she wasn’t at peace, the way she walked seemed restless. It looked like she was yelling.

Peeta put on his glasses and tried to find himself a sweater. When he found one, he looked out of the window again. He could see the man he also saw on Valentines Day and a couple of more times. He was yelling too. Peeta wanted to go to bed, he didn’t want to stare at a fighting couple. But he got a strange feeling about this, this wasn’t just fighting. He could see the man grabbing her arm in a rough way. She tried to get away but she couldn’t.

This didn’t look good at all. She kept yelling and he yelled back. She didn’t look like weak person, but she couldn’t stand a chance. The man was long, tall and strong.

I should really, really go to bed, Peeta thought, but when he looked outside once more, he saw the man raised his hand and hit her in her face.

Oh my god. He is hurting her.

He had to do something. Where were his pants?

She kept on yelling and got another hit. He needed to get her out of there. He grabbed his sweatpants, put on his coat and shoes and took the stairs, to go outside.

When he wanted to cross the street, he saw the tall man leaving the apartment.

Grow courage. He crossed the street and tried to find the right doorbell. He didn’t know her name or what her address was. Why didn’t he think of this?

E.E.L. Trinket, K.V. Everdeen or A. Cresta? It must be around 2 am, he thought.

He pressed the doorbell of A. Cresta. After a while, he heard a voice cracking from the intercom. “Hello?”

I don’t even know the sound of her voice. Crap. But, this woman sounded like she just woke up. It couldn’t be her.

“I’m sorry for waking you up ma’am, I’ve pressed the wrong button,” Peeta said. Then he got an idea. “Do you know the name of your neighbour, with eh, with the braid?”

“Katniss?”

“Thank you so much. Sleep well.” Her name is Katniss. It was, indeed, a special name.

With his heart beating in his throat, he pressed the doorbell. She didn’t open. Maybe she thought it was the tall man, returning.

He pressed the doorbell again. Then, she spoke. Her voice sounded cracked. “You have a key you know.”

“Katniss wait!” Peeta said.

“You’re not Gale. Who are you?”

He imagined the circumstances would be a bit different when he would hear her voice for the first time.

“I’m Peeta. I’m your neighbour.” Fuck, this sounded even more strange than he thought.

“What is my unknown neighbour doing here at 2 am?”

“Checking up on you. Please, open the door for me. I know what happened.”

“Wait, you are him? My neighbour?” the sound of her voice changed into a surprised tone.

“I think I just told…” Peeta heard the sound of the door getting unlocked.

He stepped into the hallway, it looked just like his. She must live on the 6th floor, their windows were on the same height.

He walked the stairs. Thoughts were running through his head, his heart was still beating in his throat. This was the must stupid idea ever. Who would go to a woman you’ve never met at 2 am, because you were staring at her through the window and had a bad feeling?

She didn’t sound mad. And she must have opened the door for some reason.

It was still the most stupid idea ever.

Peeta reached the 6th floor and saw an open door. What am I doing.

“Neighbour?” There she stood. Katniss. Her cheek was still red from the hit she got, but she was without doubt the most beautiful woman Peeta had ever seen. Her eyes were grey, something he had never seen before. She had long, black eyelashes. She was even more beautiful from a less distance.

“Katniss,” he said. “I wanted to check up on you, I saw what happened and…”

“I was planning to go outside actually, I’m sorry.” Peeta noticed the overnight bag next to her and that she was wearing a coat.

“Oh no, don’t be sorry, I’m sorry for coming here at 2 am.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were just worried and you have all right to. Shall we…”

“Yes!” Peeta started walking to the stairs. “Shall I carry your bag?”

Katniss laughed softly and followed him. God, could she even be more beautiful? “No, it’s fine.”

“You seem tired.”

“Most people are tired around this time, you know.” She sighed, and dragged her bag behind her. Peeta wanted to ask her again if he could carry it, but she seemed firm.

“Where are you going to?” he asked instead.

“I wanted to call my sister, but I don’t want to wake her, she has sleeping problems due to her pregnancy, my god why am I telling you this, I don’t even know you. What is your…”

When they almost reached the door, she fell the last three stair treads down to the ground.

“Katniss!” Peeta ran to her. “Can you stand up?”

Katniss tried, but it didn’t seem to go smoothly. She suddenly burst into tears.

“Shhh, come on, let’s get you out of here,” Peeta said. He took her bag and put it over his shoulder. He helped her standing up. “Don’t panic, but I’m going to take you to my place so I can check your ankle.”

She tried to speak, but she was still crying.

“It’s okay, come on.”

With a lot of effort, they crossed the street. The city noises seemed more quiet than usual, the city seemed more darker than usual. Peeta felt a certain kind of calmness, maybe it was because it was needed.

When they reached Peeta’s apartment building, Peeta put the bag on the ground. He wished there was an elevator. He was going to build one if the owner of the building didn’t, he had plenty of money.

“I’m going to carry you upstairs, could you try to climb on my back?”

Katniss didn’t say anything, she just did what he asked. She wasn’t heavy, fortunately.

Come on Peet. Carefully and slowly, he walked the stairs. The more stair treads he had done, the heavier it became. Finally, there was his front door.

Slowly and gently, he let her of his back. He opened his door and guided her to his couch.

“You’re safe. I’m going to get your bag.”

When he turned back, he heard her voice. “Neighbour?”

He turned to her. “Yes?”

“I may not know your name, but can I trust you?”

“You can trust me. I’m Peeta.”

–

When he came back, he saw her sitting on the couch, rubbing her feet. Why is she so beautiful.

“I may have to go see a doctor tomorrow,” Katniss said.

“What about today?” Peeta laughed.

“Oh God, I forgot it is…”

“3 am. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got eh… tea. Water. Coffee, but that’s a bad idea. And wine, but that is also a bad idea, especially for me since I’ve already drank some.” This sounded stupid. “Not that I’m drunk or something…”

“I would like some tea… please.”

“Sure!” Peeta went to his kitchen. The last couple of hours had been so strange. He went to court today, settled an arrangement, drank wine with Finnick, took a midnight shower, saw his mysterious neighbour who appeared to be named Katniss getting hit by her boyfriend, he went outside and now she was here.

He came back with two cups of tea, he hoped she would like chamomile. He also took an icepack from the freezer.

“I hope this helps,” he said and he sat down on the floor, holding it against her ankle.

“Thank you Peeta,” Katniss said. “Man, this is unbelievable.”

Peeta looked at her. Tears were streaming down her face again.

“But we’ve finally met, right? I really liked those moments of waving at you. It became part of my night routine.”

Still tears. “Can you… can you tell me something. My thoughts are…”

“Sure! Ehm… well. You see your mug?”

Katniss looked at her mug. It had a Van Gogh print on it, from the almond blossom painting.

“I bought it in Amsterdam a few years ago. My boss, who is also my best friend, thought during my interview that I was a Dutchman, because of my name and my hair. So, after working for him a few years, and after hearing him joke about it a few years, I took a plane to the Netherlands and went to Amsterdam. It is actually a nice city, I bought the mug in the Van Gogh museum. I want to go back and see more of the country, I’ve heard Rotterdam is pretty cool too and that it’s called Manhattan at the river Maas, so it should feel a bit like home.”

“Europe is great,” Katniss said softly. “Gale… that… that man took me once to Norway, to the forests and mountains…” She became quiet again. She was more quiet than an hour ago. Maybe because it just seemed to hit her, that her life was changed.

“That sounds amazing! Do you like the forests?”

“I love it. It feels like… home.”

“So, how did you come here in New York?”

Tears again. This wasn’t what he wanted. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to…”

“No it’s fine, I… It’s just… he cheated on me, I found out and… it all fell down.”

Peeta didn’t know what to say. She kept on talking.

“We were together for 7 years, it wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies… I started doubting about us a long time ago, that’s why I… why we… I didn’t want to be intimate with him anymore, I mean, not really anymore, but less and less and he… sometimes he wanted to and I not and… I think he started looking somewhere else and maybe it was also because I didn’t want to get married yet because of the doubting and…”

Peeta still held the icepack against her ankle. He felt that he wanted to go sit next to her, but his mind told him no, while everything else in his body screamed yes.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you with this,” Katniss sniffed.

“You don’t bother me at all,” Peeta said softly. “Trust me, I know how you feel. My ex cheated on me too.” And the one before. Peeta sighed. “You don’t have to be sorry and you’re not bothering me.”

He looked at her. Her grey eyes were still filled with tears.

“Hey,” he said and then he smiled at her. “You know, I am very curious about you. This is also a part of you, and if you don’t mind, I would really like to know you.”

Softly, she laughed. “Yeah, I think you could say this is also a part of me. There is not much more, actually. I’m a mess.”

“Well, what’s your favourite colour?”

“My favourite colour?” She raised her eyebrows and started thinking. “It’s the middle of the night, and you are asking my favourite colour?”

“I think I am,” Peeta laughed, still holding her ankle. “How is your ankle?”

“The icepack helps, thank you. Oh god, you are sitting on the floor the whole time! You can sit next to me, I mean, ofcourse you can, it’s your couch…”

Peeta laughed and sat down next to her. “You may rest your ankle on the couch if you like. Plenty of space.”

“Thank you.” Katniss put her legs on the couch. “This actually is really comfortable.”

“I’m glad. So, you favourite colour.”

“Right. It’s green.”

“Like the forests in Norway?” He smiled.

“Not in particular, but yes, I like the outdoors and nature. What’s yours?”

“Orange.”

“I can see why your boss thought you were a Dutchman.”

Peeta laughed. “I’ve never thought of it that way! No, it’s not because of The Netherlands. I like the colour of the sky during sunset.”

“That’s beautiful,” Katniss said. “So, you also like nature.”

“I do! There is not much nature here in New York, but I just like watching the skies, it’s like a painting.”

“An artist huh?” Katniss smiled. “I can tell.”

“How?”

“You look like one. But, artists don’t usually wear suits to work. Are you a politician?”

“No…”

“A lawyer?”

“Yes,” Peeta said. “A very passionate lawyer.”

“That’s so impressive. My sister is a doctor.” Katniss looked out of the window. “So strange to see my old place from here.”

“Old place?”

“Yes, I’m leaving it.” She stopped. “It’s Gale’s,” she said softly. “Why did you want to become a lawyer?”

“Well, at high school I discovered I was pretty good with words. I wanted to use that for helping people.”

“That’s beautiful. I’m sure you’re like Mike Ross or something, a pretty good one.”

“Except for that I actually went to law school,” Peeta laughed. “And what about you?”

“Me? I… well… I was starting to… to be a singer.”

“A singer?” She can sing? “That’s so special! I am not asking you to sing for me now, but damn, I am curious.”

“Yeah, Gale works at a bank, and I wanted to become a singer, so that’s why I live in New York and not in a cottage in the woods.”

“That last part doesn’t sound bad at all.” They looked at each other. There was this kind of energy, this kind a feeling that told Peeta she was thinking the same thing.

Katniss and Peeta talked all night. Katniss told him about her father who died when she was young, about her mom and sister, about her performances she did so far and that she liked archery. Peeta talked about his parents and the bakery, his two older brothers, that he liked to bake and read, painting sometimes. He told her about Finnick and his job: a few cases that were extraordinary. She laughed, sometimes she cried. He laughed, sometimes he wanted to hold her. They told each other about what they thought when they saw each other through the window.

Suddenly, Katniss spoke. “Hey, I’m just thinking.”

“Hm?” Peeta said, a bit tired.

“It’s the first day of spring today.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you just love spring? All those flowers: primroses, dandelions. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.”

And that’s when the sun started to rise.

[unremarkable-house]

Polaris by unremarkable_house

The X-Files, MSR, Rain King

Mulder and Scully attend Holman and Sheila's wedding in Kroner, Kansas.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Part One: Mulder and Holman

“Platonic intimacy is the foundation of my relationship with Agent Scully, Holman, and risking physical intimacy affects both parties. I don’t want to take that risk unless we are both willing.” There is a condensation of intent that settles around the patio of the Kroner Prairie View Ballroom and Suites where Fox Mulder and Holman Hardt - weatherman, meteorologic anomaly, crack relationship analyst, and now very newlywed - share their conversation during a small break in the matrimonial festivities.

It is also something Mulder has never admitted out loud, his desire for something more, and he feels the uncomfortable humidity of it fill the blissfully mild Kansas air. Holman has made it vexingly clear that he expects him to dish on the so-called Mulder-and-Scully-relationship while the blushing bride and redheaded FBI agent were otherwise occupied. Apparently, he and his buddy the weather wizard had a special affinity for these kinds of chats.

“Are you really worried that you wouldn’t be compatible in bed with someone who looks like your partner?” Holman is projecting a bit of his newfound sexual confidence with Sheila, but he doubts he’d have any trouble if Agent Scully came to bed instead. Or both. Holman’s eyebrow quirks appreciatively.

Mulder is not worried about his level of attraction to his long-suffering and comely partner, he does get to look at her every day after all, but he is worried that the weight of their traumas could make the next level of intimacy challenging. He didn’t need a degree in psychology from Oxford to figure that out, he need look no further than his own baffling sexual history. Plus, he knows how much energy she puts into maintaining their professional distance, especially since Antarctica. And Diana. As always, part of how he shows her he cares is by respecting that.

“There is something to be said about the fact that it’s been six years and no one has even mentioned sex. With each other or otherwise. Maybe she’s just not that into me.” He shrugs, also thinking that really isn’t the case. Although it had been not-so-helpfully suggested by a Gunman or two before. As if any of them had any real experience with women outside of chat rooms and computer labs.

Because Scully hasn’t left him either. Hasn’t ever expressed an interest in a life outside the X-Files. Hasn’t ever, ever let him down. She stands entirely too close to him on elevators and drinks from his coffee cup when she’s in a rush. She waits up for him in the middle of the night, she lets him watch her sleep. She rises like the Phoenix time and time again. She touches the stars and toils in the basement. And she kissed him on Tuesday.

Though she would be seriously perturbed if she heard him acknowledge any of that out loud. Especially that last part.

But he was allowed to acknowledge it, right? He had to, or else they were never going to get past this bizarre phase where their relationship was even a secret to themselves. Will they or won’t they? Are they or aren’t they? Damned if he knew.

They didn’t even have the X-Files anymore. The entire pretext for their relationship hovered over the razor’s edge, completely unprepared for Salt Lake Cities and Diana Fowleys and meaningless days spent tracking down literal piles of shit. He made it clear he wasn’t ready to handle anything personal and then they RSVP’d to a wedding together.

Polaris or utter chaos. Scully had once called him unfathomably capricious.

“Yea, but don’t you want to just take her in your arms and kiss her?”

Holman’s aggressively simple advice is reflective of a man who got everything he wanted. Easy words from someone who finally found safe harbor.

Three months ago, he was offering Holman dating advice. Now Holman was freshly married and all Mulder’s gotten were a few chaste kisses he wasn’t supposed to think about. Cosmic justice or just complete fucking irony?

Sighing, Mulder looks back through the windows where Holman and Sheila’s wedding reception is just getting into full swing. Dazzling lights, disco balls, even a few novelty lasers spin dizzily over the guests as they start feeling the liquor and therefore, the groove. Scully is in there somewhere and his eyes scan for her instinctively, but he doesn’t see her red hair in the crowd. She must still be in the bathroom or surely she would come to find him out here, right? Mulder couldn’t believe the amount of insecurity he had been feeling since she came out in that dress and asked him to help her zip up the back. He needed a drink, big time.

“It’s not just about kissing her -” Above them, the full moon is in dazzling brilliance. Not a cloud in the sky, not a hint of chill in the breeze, downright perfect humidity. On Holman Hardt’s wedding day at the end of April. Figures. “I don’t sit around and pine for Scully the way you did for Sheila. We are in a relationship, have been for years, I guess. We are not just partners, I know that. And not just friends. But it’s about being with her all the time - forever - I think. I want to keep that possibility alive.”

At whatever the cost, he doesn’t add, an onslaught of near-misses hurtling past them like a vengeful comet wrought by some dissatisfied god. The weight of the knowledge that he would follow her anywhere - and she, him - whether they liked it or not. Something that was beyond what a ring or social status could ever symbolize, objectively speaking.

It was as simple as wanting Scully like air to breathe, simple as obeying the laws of gravity. A purely biological necessity. No need to complicate things. And no need to scare her off by being as lousy a lover as he was a friend. If all she ever needed from him were chaste yet unforgettable kisses, he would be honored to provide. Ad infinitum, if that’s what it took to keep her in orbit. No need to define the bonds that connect them. Just the need to stay connected.

A light in the sky from which he could chart his course.

Mulder looked hungrily back into the pulsating throng behind him, seeking his personal universal invariant. As much as he wanted her to return so he could end this candid and hyper-intimate conversation, he especially did not want her to overhear how pathetically punch-drunk he was after just the smallest morsels of her affection. He was supposed to remain coolly and Mulder-ish-ly aloof. It was part of their unspoken agreement for partaking on this exclusive jaunt they had both surreptitiously cashed in their vacation days for.

“I’ve kissed her a couple of times, though.” Except for that, of course. Holman gives him a high five. Then he says in the wistful way he’s been saying everything tonight:

“You know, I’ve been in love with Sheila since I was in high school; I was completely infatuated.” Mulder knows, but not really. Who could be in love with someone with a voice like that? Who consistently kicked you under the rug to date the people you detested the most? To him, the sexiest thing about Scully was that she willingly spent time with him. That and she smelled like a secret garden and her skin was as soft as a petal. His own luscious Atropa belladonna; look but don’t touch. It was a fitting match considering his life was rotely defined by his personal, unattainable longings.

“I think it's different, Holman. I love Agent Scully--” more of that condensation settles. “I have for a long time. As a friend first. But I'm not lovesick. I'm not…” he trails off because to say he’s not also in love with Scully isn't the whole truth. But it’s not the same. “I'm still working on being in love with her in a way that is most fair for her. For us.” He looks up into the starry night and grips the edge of the stone wall that he is perched on. “I tend to be a bit overbearing and unpredictable.”

And incomprehensible and dog-headed and nebulous and borderline unreliable - but he’s not really interested in listing all the ways he’s failed Scully or why he knows he’s badbadbad for her. The reasons why she shouldn’t be wearing a short navy blue dress at a private and completely voluntary event with him tonight. Why he should have done the gentlemanly thing years ago and convinced her to get out and save her reputation, to save herself from a lifetime of pain. Should have resisted the tender, irresistible way she always pulled him back to her. Should not have RSVP'd to this damn wedding, at least.

Instead, he spirited her away from the world living into the world of the half-dead and always searching.

Then again he’d probably be dead ten times over, considering the numerous occasions she’d saved his ass over the years. But life without Scully would be a fate worse than death.

He’s seeding the rain cloud, he knows. These are the kinds of words phrased in such a way that he’s been avoiding admitting - let alone thinking - for years. It’s admissions like these to people like Holman that will force him to pay the piper. He envisions Holman and Sheila forcing them to slow dance beneath the dizzy lights to Fools Rush In. He’d prefer a Whiter Shade of Pale, himself. Something a bit more subtle.

“Loving someone isn’t about being fair, Agent Mulder. My life has basically been at a standstill until I finally got my chance to be with Sheila. I wasn’t willing to move forward with any decision in my life if it meant missing a chance I might have with her. I accepted a job in the same town I grew up in, for Chrissake, because she was here! And yes, there were times when I resented the fact that she refused to see me as more than a friend and instead chased after the people I liked the least.

I have a few buddies from high school who got pretty sick of my laments for a woman - who you will probably agree - is completely out of my league.” Mulder resists reacting, different strokes and all. “The fairest route would have been to save myself the drama of Sheila’s many romantic interludes and settle down with someone else - you might not know it but I’m quite the catch in a small town like this - but I was determined to wait until it was my turn. Now those same guys from high school are here dancing at our wedding!

Look at me! I’m married to the most beautiful woman in Kroner! In all of Kansas, probably! And we are already talking about starting our family right away!”

Holman, glowing with pride like the light of the moon with his arms outstretched, has a nostalgic, faraway look on his face, back to his days as the awkward teen in love with the prom queen. Indeed, Holman had received his just rewards for patience, diligence, and the honor of a respectable life.

Scully is his reward too, Mulder knows. Has always known, since the day she walked back into his basement office after spending thirty-six hours hiding in the rain forests of Puerto Rico with no food or water and scared to death that the kill squads were going to find them and use extreme force. He was constantly falling in love with the versions of herself that she shed with each tragedy - always a moment too late. Always under her sharp and disapproving eye. She wore her newfound vulnerabilities with a sign that read: “Danger, Stay Back”. That she refused to be worshipped just made her easier to love. He’d had no clue dignity was such a turn on.

Mulder was just worried he hadn't paid his dues with such noble qualities as Holman’s. His many wrongdoings play with a sad soundtrack in his head, as sad as the desperate way she always looks at him when they’ve cheated death yet again. She had been particularly unzipped by his recent near-drowning and nick-of-time rescue in the Plantagenet Bay. The Gunmen published it in their quarterly and referred to Scully as the Babe of the Bermuda Triangle. He still felt kinda bad about that one.

Was it just Mulder or was the moon shining a little more brightly right now?

“One of the best days of my life was when Sheila started working at the station.” Holman gets another dreamy look upon his face as he recalls the day. Mulder remembers too, it was chronicled in the local paper. That and a portfolio of other newsworthy weather events Holman was responsible for sat neatly collated within his X-Files. And now including their invitation to the blessed Hardt-Fontaine nuptials. It wasn’t every day he got to hang out with one of the curiosities from his wonder cabinet.

Unless he counted Scully which he explicitly and vociferously did not.

“May 11, 1992: residents of Kroner, Kansas, report witnessing a rare quadruple rainbow,” He recites.

Mulder has a similar best day of his life, but he doesn’t recall any meteorological event that marked the moment. It wasn’t even a full moon. Just a regular March afternoon that he had been antipathetic about.

Holman grins. “Some reported seeing a fifth arc as well, but it was never substantiated.” Then his face grows cloudy. “That same day, while we were catching up, was when she told me she was moving in with Darryl Moody and that they were ‘engaged to be engaged.’” He spits the last words out like venom. And that would explain the subsequent supercell lightning storm that knocked Kroner off the grid for three days (also in his files).

“She just wanted to be friends,” he bemoans before becoming annoyingly cheerful again, “but being her friend was the next best thing because here we are! Sheila recently told me that the best relationships are rooted in friendship so if that’s what it took to get here, I wouldn’t change a day.”

Mulder, dipping his chin to his chest, was appalled he found that so pathetically endearing. And a little bit wounding. Were he and Scully not rooted in friendship? For someone who was so quick to believe, he knew he was certainly wanting for a little more faith in the matter. Because here we are, he thinks, together, in other lifetimes, always.

In this particular lifetime in Kansas, there might be drinks and dancing and more than one excuse to touch her companionably and then maybe a little more familiarly, as soon as she finished up inside and he could end this awkward conversation with the groom.

“Don’t let some bad luck cramp your style, Agent Mulder,” Holman says, reaching the end of his proselytizing. “The future will be as bright as you make it.”

Following Holman’s gaze up into the night sky, Mulder finds that the heavens are now alight with the ethereal trails of meteors, dainty and otherworldly, glittering their way across the universe.

Mulder sighs again, equally entranced by and indifferent to Holman’s bizarre skills. “Easy for you to say, Holman.” But Holman just laughs the contented and mirthful laugh of a man in love. To him, everything is limitless: life, love, the weather, and now the entire galaxy.

And though there was once a time where Mulder would have imprudently coveted the ability to touch the unthinkable like Holman Hardt, tonight he is content to reach only one star.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564760

Notes:

WIP, I hope. There should be a chapter for Scully + Sheila and another for Mulder + Scully. Fingers crossed! Mad love to my favorite fanfiction of all time, Parabiosis by Penumbra. This story includes some loving references to that masterpiece. Made with the utmost respect. Thanks for reading.

[queentargary3n]

unfaithful

Summary: Sakura is surprised to see Sasuke is the senior associate of the firm she is supposed to start working for. All of her feelings start to come back 10 years after he abandoned her. Sasuke finds out somethings are truly never behind you, and when he starts falling back in love with her, his past comes to hunt him. Her biggest issue? He is already married

Sasusaku Fanfic AU Lawyers. M

Chapter 4

Sakura knew she shouldn’t have done that. She had punched the lights off the senior attorney of the firm she’d just being hired at. She drove herself home in a trance, completely absorbed in her thoughts. In retrospective, there were many things that she should have maybe done differently, starting with maybe listing Sasuke as a conflict of interest on the NDA human resources made her sign. That could possibly bring her some problems, but it seemed like he was pretending not to know her, and she knew exactly the kind of ex she didn’t want to be.

Damn... and I was so lucky to get hired too. Naruto probably had to pull some strings to get me here. My god! Naruto! What if he tells him! How can I face him now… and what if Sasuke files an assault suit against me!? I could probably hit him back a harassment suit, whatever I’m probably fired, but I mean! The things he said. She thought.

Her mind was going over and over all the possible scenarios her momentary lapse of judgment might have caused. She didn’t even notice, until she got home, that her hand hurt like a mother. It had been such a long time since she had to punch someone, and this was definably going to leave a bruise on her knuckles.

Her phone buzzed in her purse with a text message that read:

Sakura-chan family dinner tomorrow 8pm u in? – Naruto

And she probably shouldn’t. She had already been accused of inappropriate behavior by Sasuke. But she wasn’t about to change how she was with her friend because of some evil-minded jerk. So, before she could give it much thought, she replied:

Sure, I’m in. Can’t wait to meet the baby.

♦

Naruto went into the firm the next day, slightly earlier than normal, and spotted Sasuke laying on the couch of his unusually dark office.

“Hey Teme! Good job on the case! I hear the prosecution is asking for a settlement now… eh? The fuck happened to your face?” he noticed Sasuke’s incredibly swollen cheek with a dark bruise starting to settle under his left eye.  “Mmm… you’re not getting involved with those people again��� are you?” he asked while turning on the light switch to seem him better.

“Tch headache! Turn it off!” Sasuke said.

“Did you sleep here? What happened?”

“Why did you hire her?” Sasuke asked, ignoring the previous question. He moved to a seated position still resting his head on the back of the couch.

“Hire who? Sakura-chan? We were best friends in college! She is awesome, isn’t she? I heard she kicked ass in yesterday’s trial!”

“You never mentioned her…”

“Yeah, bit of a sore subject” Said the blond, moving his arm to scratch the back of his head. “I was young and sort of in love with her, she rejected me. She was the one that got me and Hinata together ya know? So, it worked out for the best, but we lost touch after graduation”

“Hn… I thought she just graduated this year, so then you rekindled your relationship behind your wife’s back, asshole”

“What the fuck!” Naruto seriously wanted to punch him for saying things like that, but he controlled himself, noticing the already injured man.

“Are you not? Why did you assign her to my top case? And you’re always touching her and stuff…” Sasuke had to admit, his reasoning sounded weak and silly once he’d voiced it.

“Cuz she is my friend and a medical doctor you idiot! I thought her medical knowledge would be helpful in such a public case like this”

“She’s a doctor?” Sasuke asked in a more relaxed tone. He brought his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache that was worsening by the second.

“Yeah, graduated early and everything, I don’t know why but a few years ago she went back to grad school to study law, but the knowledge is there ya know?”

“And you’re not sleeping together…” the raven-haired man muttered weakly.

“No!” Naruto yelled. “You know I love my wife! Wait… you didn’t tell Sakura-chan that did ya?!” Naruto asked, completely amazed at his friend’s stupidity.

“Ah.” Sasuke answered in confirmation.

“Well that explains the damage” Naruto had the nerve to laugh at him. “Sakura-chan can be really scary as I remember” he shook his head, then rested his hands behind his head. “Ne Teme, you owe Sakura-chan an apology” He completed in a serious tone.

“Ah” and Sasuke knew he did, whatever the case was, he knew he had no right calling her out like that, but in the field of apologizing Sasuke was truly lost. “I’ll figure something out”

“Yeah maybe you can figure something out before family dinner tonight! She’s coming, you guys should too” Naruto said, back to his cheerful self, and gave him a small nudge of encouragement. “Go home for now, I’m sure Sakura-chan can handle the rest of the negotiations”

And for once Sasuke did as he was told. He went back to his apartment, since his headache did not seem to be going away anytime soon. He unlocked the door and walked in, expecting to find the apartment empty.

Karin walked out of the bedroom as soon as he opened the door. “Sasuke? What…” she said confused as to why he’d be home at such hours but noticed his face. “What happened?! Are you okay? Oh my god Sasuke does it hurt!?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it” He answered, it was for this same reason he didn’t come home before, Karin tended to make a bigger deal of things than they required, it hadn’t occur to him that the bruise might look worse the next day.

“Tell me what happened! Did Orochimaru…” Karin said, trying to hold back her accumulating tears.

“No” Sasuke replied then sighed. “I… walked into a door” he offered.

Karin gave him an unconvinced looked, and said “Sasuke…”

“I’m fine, really” He said patting her head gently. “I’m just going to rest for a while”

His affectionate actions made her smile. She couldn’t really remember the last time they had contact, and it moved her causing a small flush to spread on her cheeks, before her expression changed into something Sasuke couldn’t make out, confusion, concern, guilt maybe, but he couldn’t dwell on it, since his headache was killing him by that point.

Whatever she seemed to have remembered, made her shake her head to compose herself, she readjusted her glasses and said “I gotta go to the office Sasuke, but I do really…”

“I know you do” He answered before she could finish her sentence. Because whatever was happening between the two, Sasuke knew she cared for him, as he did to her.

Sasuke waited for her to leave and close the door, before walking into the bedroom, his ailment did warrant the use of a bed, so he laid face down into the large bed at the center of the bedroom, he touched the familiar soft sheets they had chosen months before, then wrapped his hand under a pillow to get comfortable.

There, he felt something underneath, then pulled it out to inspect it, and saw a small plastic square turn up.

A condom wrapper.

♦

Family dinner was a regular even at the Uzumaki household. A tradition Naruto kept even after his parents passed. For some time, family dinners consisted only of himself and his godfather, but as an adult, Naruto came to consider a myriad of people family members, and so Friday nights were usually spent, drinking and dinning in the rotating company of whoever was available at that time. This particular dinner’s guest list included Shikamaru and his wife, Sasuke and his wife, if she wanted to show up which she usually didn’t, and Sakura.

“I’m worried about Sakura” said his wife, as she was preparing the food for her soon to be incoming guests, while her husband held their baby. “I don’t want her to feel like the odd one out between a bunch of married couples”

“Don’t worry! She won’t” said Naruto. “It’s not like we’re all going to be talking to our spouses, ignoring the rest of ‘em”

“Still, maybe we should’ve invited someone else. I might be able to talk Neji-niisan into coming last minute, maybe set them up!” Hinata chirped.

“You know Neji doesn’t like you meddling into his ‘love’ life like that” He responded, placing a gently hand on the small of his wife’s back.

“I know, but wouldn’t they look cute together?”  

“Nah I don’t know about that…” Naruto answered, even if his romantic feelings for Sakura were long gone, she always held a soft spot in his heart, and he would always feel protective about her.

“I think someone is here, can you get the door? I’m pretty much done here” Hinata said, a few seconds before there was an actual know on their door.

“Really Hina, I don’t know how you do that…”

Naruto opened the door, to find Sasuke standing outside, his black eye even more prominent than the last time he saw him.

“Tss teme she got you good!” the blond mentioned, as he motioned for his friend to come in. He had been the victim of a few punches by Sakura himself, but he never spotted a black eye like that. “What did you say to her? She must have been pretty angry if she hit you right in the face.”

Sasuke sighed, he almost didn’t show up. He hadn’t figured out what he would say to her. “I sort of… called her a whore…” he muttered, looking down to avoid looking embarrassed.

“Bastard… you really had it coming, you’re lucky I’m holding the baby, or I’d make the other eye match” Naruto threaten.

“How’s he doing by the way” Sasuke said, grabbing the baby’s hand and toying with it, partially trying to change the subject.

“Oh, he’s great, he sleeps through the night now and everything” Naruto answered.

They sat down at the dinner table, with Naruto going on and on about baby Boruto, and how he smiled all the time, and was pretty smart for a 6-month-old baby, and how the transition to food was going smoothly. It wasn’t until 15 minutes into the conversation he noticed Sasuke came alone. “Your wife’s not here?” He asked.

“No, she had to go out or something” Sasuke replied, briefly considering telling Naruto about the condom wrapper he found in their bed. But he decided not to, Naruto’s family dinner was hardly the place to talk about something like that.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Shikamaru and his wife. Temari, whose name Sasuke always manage to forget for some reason, announced her newly found pregnancy, which engrossed the group in a conversation of parenthood, pregnancy cravings, baby must haves, while Sasuke mostly stayed silent. He held his arms out to borrow baby Boruto from his very talkative father and bounced him up and down from his lap much to the infant’s amusement.

“And you, Sasuke? Have you and Karin thought about having one of your own?” Temari asked him.

Sasuke always imagined himself having a big family of his own, he liked children. But the concept of family seemed to be getting further and further away from him the older he got.  The subject had not even come out with the woman who was now his wife. He always imagined someone else as the mother of his children, it was a goal he had set on his mind: do what he had to do about Orochimaru, his brother, leaving the outlaw world,  then go back to the girl who hunted his dreams since he was a teenager. But that was years ago and leaving left consequences he couldn’t have predicted. So, he buried that thought, underneath responsibilities and duties he had to uphold, and continued to live for years without thinking about the hypothetical cute children with dark hair and green eyes.

“I don’t think Karin w…” he almost responded to the group, interrupted by a knock on the door and the entrance of none other than Sakura, wide eyed and blushing, she seemed surprised he was even there, as she held a bottle of wine and brown gift bag close to her chest.

“Sorry no one answered the door, so I just came in, hope that’s okay” She said, addressing everyone in the dining room, but avoiding Sasuke’s eyes.

“Sure thing! Sakura-chan I’m glad you made it!” Naruto said, standing up and hugging the pinkette.

“Sakura-chan! It’s so good to see you, how long has it been!?” Hinata chirped in higher voice than any of her guest had ever made her do, and wrapped her arms around Sakura and her husband, the three of them locked in an awkward three person embrace.

“Hinata! Too long! You look lovely, motherhood suits you!” Sakura answered, disentangling herself from the hug. “Now where is that cute baby of yours!?”

Naruto scratched his face and turn to look at Sasuke, who was still holding the baby. The sight was endearing for her she had to admit. Sasuke looked down and held the baby in front of his face in offering, still unable to meet her eyes.

Naruto grabbed his son instead and brought him to Sakura’s arms. “This is Boruto” he introduced.

“Naruto! Aw he looks just like you! He is so adorable!” She pressed the baby’s face to her own. “Who knew you had it in you to make something so cute!!”

“Nah, he has my eyes and hair, but the rest is all Hinata ya know?”

“I’m so happy for you two!” Sakura said, wiping a small tear from her eye.

“I’m going to put him down to sleep” Said Hinata, taking her baby back into her arms. “It’s a little late for this little guy, we were waiting so you could meet”

“Sorry I was late, bye Boruto”

“I’m so proud of you, you know? You always wanted a family, and now you have one, it’s just so…” She was unable to continue, if she did, there would have been no stop to her crying, so she composed herself.

“I know Sakura-chan” Naruto answered.

Sasuke thought he couldn’t have been more wrong, after witnessing the whole interaction. It was obvious that they all had some very deep connection, but it was so far from what he had suspected he couldn’t help to feel embarrassed again. Why his mind went for the most impure explanation, he didn’t know.

And so, after introductions, dinner continued without his interference. Old friends catching up, and new acquaintances presented. They continued with drinks after the meal, and after a few glasses, Sasuke stood up and walked to the door.

“Are you leaving Sasuke, you haven’t said anything all night!” Naruto complained.

“No, I’m just going out for a smoke” He responded. He needed some air to clear his thoughts. So many things needed to be fix happened in only a few days, but the only thing he could seem to think of was Sakura. It’s so fucked up. He thought.

His train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of said girl behind him. “Smoking kills you know?” She said to him.

“Ah” he answered in confirmation and took another drag from his cigarette, before putting it down and stepping on it. Sasuke moved to face Sakura, he tried to organize a coherent sentence to word his apology, but she was too distracting. Her red crop top, and high wasted jeans showed a small portion of her waist he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel under his touch. He ran his hand through his inky locks in exasperation.

“Listen Sasuke… I’m sorry” She said unexpectedly.

“YOU’RE sorry?” he asked. He looked at her, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Yeah… I shouldn’t have punch you like that; it looks bad. I’m terribly sorry” she bowed a little as she continued. He didn’t even know what to say.

Sakura pulled a small container from a brown bag she was carrying and asked, “May I?”

He questioned her with his eyes. “It’s a pomade I made, it good against bruising, and it has a cooling effect to help with the pain”

He nodded his head yes, so she moved to coat her finger in the ointment and apply it gently to his face. He was, for once, glad because of the bruising, since the heat he felt on his face could only mean he was blushing madly. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

“Thank you.” The black-haired man said when she was finished. It felt so good to have her hands on him, he almost complained when she removed her touch. “You don’t have to apologize, it was my fault, I had no right calling you that”

“You’re right” She conceded. “But I’m sorry anyway, it was no excuse to hit you, violence is never the answer”

“Never?” He laughed at that. He could of at several situations where violence is the only answer, and he was sure Naruto would agree. But he didn’t voice his thoughts.

“I still deserved it though”

“Damn right you did” she agreed.  

“I’m sorry” He said. “and I shouldn’t have acted like I didn’t know you either, I just… didn’t know… what to say”

“It’s okay Sasuke-kun… it was a long time ago” The endearing suffix, made him smile, and brought his scrambling thoughts back together. It reminded him of simpler times, when he could act on his feelings.

And right then, he finally figured out, why he’d been so angry at Naruto’s displays of affection towards the pink haired girl. Sasuke knew he was jealous.

______________

Thank you so much for reading this if you still are, smut and infidelity are coming soon I promise. Tell me what you think, constructive criticism is always appreciated. 

[australiancarisi]

Rafael Barba ~ Just Some...

Sometimes Rafael gets insecure and when he does he speaks his mind words: 2178 This has literally been sitting in my drafts half-finished since march oops

“Why hello Mr ADA to what do I owe the pleasure so bright and early?” You smiled up at Rafael from your desk. It had just gone 10, rarely did Rafael come to the precinct before noon. It had been a few days since you had seen Rafael, he had been in court and the squad had recently had an influx of cases. You looked your boyfriend up and down, god he looked good today. He always looks good but today.... extra good.

“Looking for Liv” Rafael mumbled before looking around at the empty precinct “where is everyone?”

“Fin and Nick have gone to the victim's old high school, Dodds and Carisi are getting all the doctor's examination details and Liv and Rollins... I think talking to the vic’s family but I’m not too sure” you shrugged

“Why are you here then?” he asked. You frowned for a second taking your boyfriend in. He was acting strange. The normally cocky Cuban, who, when given an empty precinct, would normally jump at the chance to flirt and kiss you at work, just stood against Carisi’s desk with his hands in his pockets looking anything but cocky.

“Paperwork” you said holding up the files “I’m too far behind apparently” you rolled your eyes “you okay?”

“Yeah fine” Rafael shrugged “get Liv to call me when she in”

“Will do” you frowned as Rafael turned on his heels and walked away. In the nearly 3 years that you had been dating Rafael that was not how he acted with you, not even in the first year of you guys dating when you were still hiding it from everyone.

You and Rafael started dating just under a year after you joined SVU. You came from major crimes after SVU had a high profile case that you had helped them on. They were understaffed at the time so Liv asked your lieutenant if you could help out more. After a month of working with SVU, you knew it was where you belong. You fit in well with the team despite being a relatively young detective, you liked that you were able to help people and make a difference. It felt like you belonged there. Everything was great, except for one thing. You and Rafael did not get along. He saw things clearly in black and white whereas you saw grey. You bent the rules, so much so that they would nearly snap in half Rafael would say, and he didn’t like that. The two of you would fight and argue like cats and dogs. It wasn’t until you were put on his detail after he revealed that he was getting death threats did the two of you start to feel sparks.

You and Sonny were given the night shift after Rafael gave a guy his home address on the steps of the courthouse that day.

“I mean seriously who does that?” You grumbled as you heard Rafael get in the shower “I don’t want to be here!”

“Suck it up doll face” Sonny grinned at you

“I had leftover Thai food in my fridge! I’ve been looking forward to it all day!” You huffed like a child “if he wants to be stupid enough to give out his address that’s on him”

“Come on y/n we can’t just let him get murdered. Who else would put up with your crazy ideas?” Sonny laughed taking a seat on the couch.

“Put up with? Your kidding right? He shuts down all my ideas”

“That’s because they are usually nearly illegal”

“Exactly nearly illegal not actually illegal” Sonny was about to reply when his phone rang. You got comfy on the couch as he walked away to answer.

“I’ve gotta go” Sonny said grabbing the suit jacket that he had hung over the back of one of the chairs when he had walked in.

“Everything okay?” You frowned

“It’s Bella. She fell down some stairs and hit her heard. Knocked herself out” Sonny said

“Oh my god, Sonny go” you said basically pushing him out the door

“Are you going to be okay on your own?” Sonny asked

“We’ll be fine and at the first sign of trouble I'll call for back up I promise”

“Okay... I’ll let you know what happens” Sonny said before racing out the door. When the door closed behind him you took a moment to look around the apartment. It was just how you expected it to look. Not that you ever pictured Rafael’s apartment... it was relatively big for a New York apartment, open and airy with dark wood floors and bookcase upon bookcases. You moved around the apartment to have a closer look at things. The place really looked like a display home. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. There wasn’t any real sign of living besides the files Rafael had out of the table when he walked in and the single photo of him and who you assumed were his mother and grandmother. They all had the same eyes. You kept looking around Rafael’s apartment. You pulled out a law book and started flicking through it.

“I’m pretty sure being a part of my protective detail isn’t to look through my stuff” you jumped at Rafael’s voice.

You spent the night at Barba’s, despite the constant complaining from him. It took the squad about a week to find and arrest the people threatening Barba. Catching them, however, didn’t stop you from telling Barba what an idiot he was in the first place. The two of you bickered back and forth for months until it built up and burst when Barba cupped your face and kissed you late one night in his office while you were arguing about a case. That kiss led to taking him back to your place.

After a couple months of fooling around together, the two of you decided to actually pursue a relationship. It was actually after Rafael got jealous after a case. He and the squad went out to a bar to celebrate. You’re young, the youngest on the squad and there were a lot of people throwing themselves at you. Rafael was not happy with that. You disclosed 2 months after officially getting together after Nick accidentally walked in on the two of you in Rafael’s office.

Over a couple of hours, everyone had made their way back to the precinct. You’d finally caught up on enough paperwork to be able to get in on the current case. You tired texting Rafael throughout the day but got no response. Which was weird. Rafael always responded to your messages no matter who he was with unless he was in court but you knew he wasn’t. The squad were sitting around throwing out theories and evidence on the case, which unfortunately wasn’t much at all.

“So basically what you are saying is we have nothing” Fin sighed “We need a warrant to search the teacher's house”

“Barba is not going to get us a warrant based on this” Sonny said pointing to the whiteboard

“Not us but maybe....” Amanda trailed off as she turned her attention to you

“Normally I would agree but not today” you frowned at your phone, still no response

“What have you done this time?” Mike smirked as you grabbed a nearby piece of paper and threw it at him

“Nothing! He was here earlier looking for Liv. Did you talk to him?” You asked

“He wanted to go over some motions the defence in the Merlot case were filing” Liv said

“Did he seem normal to you?”

“As normal as Barba can be” Nick laughed earning high fives from Amanda and Mike, two which you threw paper at them as well. Liv shrugged and the conversation went back to the case at hand.

After another couple of hours and you finally had enough evidence to get a warrant. Mike threw the file down on your table. 

“Why me?” You asked 

“Just to make sure we actually get the warrant, get the warrant and then you can clock off for the day” Mike smirked “No funny business while you’re still on the clock” 

“Seriously how are you a Sargent?” You rolled your eyes before picking up your phone “Hey Carmen... Need to come down and talk him into getting us a warrant just wanna check he’s free...huh...no he didn’t...okay thanks” 

“Everything good?” Sonny asked 

“Yeah all good” you smiled packing up your stuff and picking up the file “I’ll let you guys know if I can convince him to try and get us the warrant” 

You left the precinct and headed straight to Rafael’s place. The two of you spent most nights at either his place or yours, more often his because it was closer to both the courthouse and the precinct then yours and the fact that Rafael usually worked later than you. You’d have to go and pull him out of his office. 

But not tonight. 

Carmen informed you that Rafael had left the office an hour before you called. This wasn’t like Rafael. Leaving work early... Not responding to messages... something was up. 

You quietly opened the door to Rafael’s apartment using the spare key Rafael had given you. Rafael was sitting in his armchair, scotch in hand. The apartment was eerily quiet. 

“Hey Raf” You said breaking the silence. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at you. “Hey... Rafi... are you okay?” 

“Of course why wouldn’t I be?” Rafael asked taking a sip of his drink, still never looking at you. You sighed and threw your stuff down. 

“Rafael, what is going on?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I haven’t seen you outside of the courthouse or precinct in days and you are giving me nothing” you said “So I repeat what is going on?” 

“I saw you the other day on the steps of the courthouse” Rafael said after a moment of silence. You frowned trying to think back. “with that beat cop” 

“... Officer Jackson? the rookie? the new guy at our precinct?” You asked

“Your precinct” he corrected “and yes... you looked... cosy” 

“... Rafael... are you jealous? Seriously? of some kid?” You asked. Rafael had a jealous streak, it was the reason you got together because he couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. He was overprotective as well. He hated having to watch you go on stings and into interrogations with violent men or having to watch you flirt with them. 

“You say some kid as if you weren’t in his shoes not too long ago” Rafael mumbled. It was something that was joked about a bit between you and the squad, the fact that there was a bit of an age gap between you and Rafael. It never bothered you and Rafael though. 

“Rafi... really?” You asked him,. He just shrugged and took another sip of scotch. “So you saw me with another cop and now you’re being a moody teenager?” 

“He’s young, a cop. You were laughing...smiling...” Rafael sighed “I just don’t get it... Out of everyone you picked me and that surprises me cause I was alway last inline” 

“Not my line” you smiled

“That’s why I’m overprotective of you” Rafael said finally looking you in the eye placing the scotch on the coffee table next to him. “I have something... someone that I don’t deserve and I don’t want to lose it” 

“Rafi” you whispered. You slowly moved closer to him hoping that he would let you in. When he didn’t object you sat in his lap. You wrapped an arm around him, running your fingers through the back of his hair. 

“Sometimes it still hits me...” Rafael whispered “Like why me? Why does she want to spend the rest of her with me?” 

“Rafi, why wouldn’t I? You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. A soul mate, a best friend. You are everything to me Rafi” You said “I love you Rafi, you and only you” 

“You deserve so much more than me”

“Why? Why do you think that?” 

“Because I’m just some fat Cuban kid from the Bronx. Who had a crappy dad, who couldn’t look after himself I always had to have Eddie or Alex fix my problems” 

“Just some... Rafael, you are a lawyer, not just any lawyer but a Harvard educated lawyer. You are a respected New York City ADA... You might not see how amazing you are but I do” 

“You deserve-” 

“I get to decide what I deserve” You cut him off “and I deserve you. I love you. I love you more than anything and no young rookie is gonna ever take me from you” 

“Thank you” Rafael sighed. You leant down and kissed him 

“Now a hot defence lawyer well....” you smirked at him causing him to laugh 

“I love you” Rafael kissed your hand that wasn’t in his hair. 

“Don’t forget it” you grinned at him “Now the actual reason I’m here we need a warrant for.......”

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [160]

(336):  Did you get good sleep? (832):  I dreamt that I was a lipstick lesbian in the 1950s, working at Walgreens and solving mysteries. (832):  So yes. -

“I take it you know Kallian, or is that being racist?” Herah asks.

“When it gets to the point where you're a person of elven descent in a position of high power, high visibility, or any kind of notoriety then you start to figure out who all the other elves in the same position as you are. At that point it’s no longer about the stereotype of all elves knowing or being related to each other and it’s more about a minority grouping together to hold hands and mutually suffer through the fact that they’re a minority,” Kallian says before Mahanon can answer. She narrows her eyes at the man. "That said, I am nearly entirely certain that I’ve represented you in court before."

“Lyna's my distant cousin on my mother’s side,” Mahaon replies. “Which is why I might seem familiar to you.”

Kallian wrinkles her nose. “Mahariel? Lyna Mahariel? The hippie?”

“Yes.”

“The one related to the Gray Warden? The dumb one with the kid?”

“The very same.”

Kallian narrows her eyes further. “Is your sister the lunatic?”

“Possibly, depending on who you think I am. Are you thinking about Neria or Ellana? They’re both slightly off kilter in separate ways.”

“Violent one.”

“That’s Neria Surana. The Lavellans are so distantly related we might as well not be. My sister is the one who’s off kilter in ways that make you realize how broken of a society we have because she gets away with it due to the copious amount of loopholes that seemingly exist just for her. Some would call her a manic pixie girl. Those same people would probably be attempting to charge her for assault except she gets away with it every time because of aforementioned reasons.”

“Fair enough.” Kalilan nods. “Have I represented you in court before?”

“I’ve never had any of my cases, prior to joining the Inquisition, get taken to court. You’re thinking of someone else.”

“This is absolutely riveting. Now that you’ve established that you two do not, in fact, know each other but know the same people, can we get down to business?”

Kallian flips her notebook open, clicking her pen and starts jotting some things down. “If you were related to the Surana I would’ve charged triple.”

“You probably should anyway,” Herah mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Herah waves a hand. “Anyway, thank you for coming. For some reason you’re the only lawyer of note we could find in the entire district.”

Kallian smiles and it’s eerily reminiscent of a very, very satisfied wild cat. “All the other ones were weak. They quit as soon as I got my firm established in the area. Couldn’t handle the competition. They also couldn’t handle a woman who doesn’t need to wear a pant suit and a string of pearls to be taken seriously.”

“I think I’m starting to be fond of you,” Mahanon says, “You might be the first lawyer I’ve considered respecting enough to work with.”

Herah glares at Mahanon, “Don’t fuck this up. I meant it. Every other lawyer in this district is absolute shit garbage and if we have to work with them because you pissed off this one I will personally make sure that this trial ends badly out of spite. Fuck the consequences.”

“I’m starting to like you as a person,” Kallian says to Herah, “I would say do go on with this but I’ve gotten about four hours of sleep in the past day and a half and if I’m representing the Inquisition I don’t foresee getting myself much more than that any time soon. I want to get my associates working this case as fast as possible so I can try and head off whatever stupid tricks the opposing side wants to use.” Kallian’s eyes grow distant for a moment. “And when it’s over I’m going to do my best to lucid dream a continuation of my lipstick lesbian episode last night.”

“What?”

“Not important. Let’s start at the beginning.”

“How far back is the beginning for you?” Herah asks, “Because we’ve been working this case for a while. And let me tell you, it’s been one fuckin’ wild ride to get here. The only reason it’s being tried in this district court and not the original one is because the little weasel of a shit heel we’re trying to get charged has too many people in inconvenient places.”

“I can work around that. I don’t lose cases. If I’m on a case it’s mine.” Kallian flips open one of the files Herah had prepared for her.

“Has anyone ever told you that maybe you should’ve been a PI?” Herah asks. “Or a bounty hunter?’

Kallian grunts, “I tell myself that daily. I dream about it, sometimes. Maybe I was in a past life. But if there’s something harder than being a respected and feared lawyer of elven descent in this country it’s establishing your own private eye business, or getting respect as an independent contractor. I’m working my way up in my own way.”

“If you ever get tired of the whole lawyer thing I think you’d have a place in the Inquisition.”

“Recruitment?” Mahanon asks Herah, “Now? Really, Adaar?”

“I’ve got an eye for talent, Lavellan, and you’ve got an eye for trouble. Stick to what you know. I’d regret it forever if I let this chance slip.”

Kallian’s lips twitch upwards. “I’ll think about it. Maybe after I’ve done enough time in court that I feel like the law school fees were worth it. In the mean time, I’ve got to justify the thousands I’ve dropped on my fancy degree. So. Let’s do that now. Should we start with going over the specific reason why the defense wants to say that this is a set up and that the entire thing was rigged due to — “ Kallian pauses, eyebrows raising, “Racial prejudice against humans. Oh. I’m going to enjoy this case like a fuckin’ rare steak. Let’s get cracking.”

[maxineswritingcenter]

Class Reunion -Sam x fem!Reader

Gotta give my boy Sammy some love.

Summary: Sam and Dean hit up a case in a town they lived in for Sam's senior year of high school. While on a supply run, Sam runs into reader who he dated that year. Reader invites him to the class reunion. Sam is hesitant but the case leads to the reunion. SPARKS FLY BITCHES

-------------------------------------------------

It was the same old same old in the bunker. Nothing huge or apocalyptic was going on for the moment. But the cases seemed to be slim pickings. Sam was searching the world wide web for something, anything. Just as he was about to close the laptop and take a well deserved nap, a notification popped up. From the other side of the world map table, Dean looked up from his magazine and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm gonna assume that sound means a lead. Or something." He said and dropped the magazine on the table.

Sam narrowed his eyes as he read.

"What?" Dean asked as he came around to look over his brother's shoulder.

"So there have been reports of people being murdered in their homes. But there are no fingerprints, DNA or anything left at the scene. Just like the killer walked in and then vanished." Sam said as he scrolled through the news article.

"Sounds like it could be our type of case. Where's it at?" Dean asked.

Sam scrolled to the top of the screen, "Ojai, California." He chuckled at the name.

"Isn't that where you had your senior year and then dipped on me and dad?" Dean stood up straight. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I didn't dip. Dad told me if I left to not come back. So I didn't." He looked at his brother and shook his head.

"You know he didn't mean that." Dean tried to excuse him. But Dean wasn't even sure if he 100% believed that himself.

"Yeah. Whatever." He scrolled some more on the local news for the town then stopped, "No way." He shook his head.

"What is it?" Dean asked, the topic of their father temporarily forgotten.

"The reunion is this week. It's all over the town's local news. The murders are like a needle in a haystack." Sam said, trying to dig for more info on it.

"Well, pack your stuff Sammy, sounds like a case." Dean patted his brother on the back and made his way to his room.

-

Sam walked through the halls. It was his first day of senior year. Another new school. Another new town. He figured he should just keep to himself. Who knew how long they would be staying here. Hell, he came in halfway through the semester. Everyone already had their friend groups. Nothing really-

"Ah!" He ran smack into a smaller figure. The girl dropped every paper and they flew across the hall.

"I'm so sorry!" Sam said, scrambling to help her pick up the papers. He had a stack in his hand and reached to grab the last one when another hand touched his. He looked up and bonked heads with the stranger.

"Aw dammit." The girl said, rubbing her forehead, "I'm so sorry, I'm such a clutz." When they finally made eye contact, the mood changed.

"Hi." He said with a crooked smile.

"Hi..." The girl smiled. They both stood, he handed her his stack.

"I'm Sam. By the way." He said, holding onto the straps of his backpack.

"Sam." She repeated, "It's very nice to meet you. I'm (Y/N), student body president. Or at least that's the title. No one takes me seriously." She smiled, "You're new."

"How could you tell?" He chuckled.

"Small town. Everyone knows everyone." She shrugged, "And I think I would remember a smile like that."

"Hey!" Sam was brought out of his daydream by Dean smacking him on the shoulder.

"What?" He asked, blinking to clear his vision.

"You alright? You've been catatonic for like twenty minutes." Dean looked at him seriously, "You alright?" Sam always hated that look, like Dean was studying him.

"Yeah." He nodded, "Fine."

Dean shrugged, "Well we're here."

-

After a stop at the motel, Sam and Dean suited up in their FBI gear. They entered the sheriff's office with the badges at the ready. They approached a deputy and showed their badges.

"Agents Priestly and Forester, we're here about the homicides. Can we speak to the sheriff?" Dean said.

The deputy looked around nervously, clearing not accustomed to speaking with the FBI.

"Oh uh yeah, sure. This way." The deputy lead them back to the sheriff's office. The sheriff was a man around Sam's age, he was leaning on his desk, looking over a file.

The deputy knocked on the doorway, "Sheriff, FBI here about the murders." The deputy squeaked out the word. The sheriff looked up and closed the file, dismissing the deputy with the flick of this wrist.

"Come on in, fellas. I'm Sheriff Witicker." He looked from Dean to Sam as he shook their hands, and then stopped.

"Do I know you?" The sheriff narrowed his eyes.

Sam swallowed then smiled, "No. I, uh, just have one of those faces."

The sheriff nodded, "You must. You remind of this nerd I went to school with." He chuckled. Dean hummed, smiled at Sam and when he got the bitch face in return, he looked back at the Sheriff.

"So what do you have so far?" Dean asked, "Any suspects?"

"Not a clue. It's like the perp just walked in, scrubbed the place clean and walked out. All without disturbing a thing. We think that maybe there's some connection from the victims and the killer." He handed Sam the file to look over crime scene photos. The victim was someone Sam recognized.

"First victim was the coach at the high school. Throat tore clean open and partially devoured." Sheriff said, "Now Devin was a hardass but not enough to get murdered. We played football together. Same for the next Vic, Liza worked at the local library."

"Any witnesses?" Dean asked as he looked at the file in Sam's hands.

"Not at all." The sheriff sighed, "You guys gotta understand. We haven't had a murder in Ojai since 2001. And with the reunion coming up. Well, we're kind of on edge here."

"We understand." Sam said, "We'll look into this the best we can." Sam handed him a card, "Call us if anything happens." The sheriff took the card and nodded. The two left the office and went into the parking lot.

"Did you know that guy?" Dean asked as he looked over the car at his brother.

"Yeah. Made my life hell. Him and the rest of the football team." Sam nodded.

"And what about the other girl, Liza?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, "Name rings a bell but I didn't know her personally. I think she mostly stuck to herself."

"Like you, nerd?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

Sam pursed his lips, "Not funny."

"It's kinda funny." Dean got into the car, "Seems like a vampire to me. Like that nest in Hibbing."

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Let's just hope these are random and there isn't a pattern."

"Well, first things first, food. I'm starving." Dean started the car and they drove to the local supermarket.

-

Sam looked through the aisles with a shopping basket in his arm. He rather get his own food than Dean's assortment of junk and beer. As he turned a corner, a shopping cart rammed him in the waist. He doubled over with an oof, dropping his basket.

"I am so sorry! I wasnt-...Wait." he recognized that voice, "Sam?" She asked.

Sam held his stomach and looked up. It was (Y/N) not looking a day older than they did in highschool. She was wearing long black pants and a knit sweater. Her hair was short, it framed her face well.

"(Y/N).." he smiled. She squealed and came around, hugging him tightly. Sam chuckled and hugged her back. He had to lean down due to his height.

"Oh my God, it's so great to see you!" She said as she pulled away and looked up into his eyes, "What are you doing here?"

Sam had to think of something, anything that would make sense.

"I uh."

"You came for the reunion, didn't you?" She pointed at him.

He chuckled and showed his hands, "Guilty."

"I knew you would!" She blushed, "I mean uh... Maybe I was hoping." She shook her head, "Whatever. Um. Look at me, talking your ear off. You're probably busy." She rambled.

"I'm not." Sam couldn't even think really. Seeing her again was like a breath of fresh air.

"You're not? Oh uh... Would you uh... Maybe wanna grab lunch so we could... Catch up?"

"I'd really like that." Sam grinned.

"Hey Sammy, you want some-" Sam closed his eyes and cringed when Dean approached.

"Woah." Dean smirked and licked his lips, "I'm sorry about my brother here. Was he bothering you, ma'am?"

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh please. I remember you, Dean. Come on. That's just sad."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Wait a minute. You're (Y/N)." Dean connected the dots. He laughed, "Man, I still don't understand how this guy caught the eye of a fox like you."

She looked at Sam and rolled her eyes, "Well, Sam. I'll see you later. Say 2:30 at the place we used to go? Same booth?"

"Yeah, sounds great." Sam grinned.

"Mom, can we go now? I still need to do homework for my law and society class." Everyone's attention was brought to a tall, brown haired, hazel eyed boy that came up behind (Y/N).

"Of course, honey." (Y/N) reached up and brushed some hair from the boys face.

Sam's mind seemed to go blank. This kid, (Y/N)'s kid... They had a striking resemblance. Dean blinked at the tall child and then at Sam.

"Sam, Dean." (Y/N) said, clearing her throat, "This is my son, Jared." Jared gave the two men a half smile and little wave.

"Come on." Sam whispered as he tugged on her hand. He pulled (Y/N) in the middle of the gym floor. The colored lights painting them in a soft purple glow. Prom was slowly coming to an end. But Sam wanted to make this special. He would be leaving soon and he wanted to give her the best night she could.

"People are staring." She said between her teeth. She had her hands on his shoulders, the flowers from her corsage tickled at his neck. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown with sleeves that came off the shoulder. Her hair was up and curled.

"Let them. You look beautiful." Sam breathed out the words.

"Sam..." (Y/N) blushed and smiled, looking up into his eyes.

Soon the dance came to an end but their night continued on the roof of the motel where Sam and his family were staying. He had laid out a blanket and pillows from the room. They sat there and looked up at the stars, pointing out different constellations.

Sam looked at her and suddenly kissed her cheek. It was an impulse and quieted her talk of mythology and lore about the stars. She stiffened and turned bright red.

"Sam..." She whispered, leaning in...

"Sammy." Dean waved a hand in front of his brother's face. Sam blinked, still trying to focus on what just happened.

"Did that kid-" Sam began.

"Look like your carbon copy? Yeah, he did." As the both walked down they aisle. Sam caught a glimpse of (Y/N) and Jared loading up their car with groceries. Jared looked up and made eye contact. Sam nodded, Jared did the same and then got into the car.

"Well." Dean said, "This makes this a little complicated." They made their way to the Impala with their bags.

"A little?" Sam scoffed, "Dean, that could be my kid."

Dean shook his head, "Nah nah nah, this isn't like Ben where we liked the same things. No this kid looks like someone took your DNA and cloned you." He shivered, "Two of you is the last thing I need."

Sam ignored him and instead was brought to his phone ringing.

"Agent Forester." He said as he answered.

"Hey, Agent, this is Sheriff Witicker. We found more victims." Sam's face went slack.

"Right now?" He asked. Vampires usually don't go out during the day like this. Not alone.

"Yeah. It's a blood bath in here." He said, "I'll send you the address."

"Thanks." Sam ended the call and looked up at Dean.

"You go the the restaurant, I'll check out the crime scene." Dean said and opened his door.

"What about-" Sam started.

"Dude, the vampire is the least of our issues right now. You need a paternity test." Dean got into the car. Sam stood there for a moment before he sighed and made his way into town. Thinking of all the questions he wanted to ask.

-------------------------------------------------

NEW SERIES

Also I'm creative with names, did you know that?

Read part 2 here!

Taglist (shoot me an ask if you want to be added!):

@happy-little-winchester

@hobby27

@beanie-beebo

@vicmc624

@ria132love

@lilulo-12

@teenwaywardasgardian

@somebodyto-love

[youreverycolor]

An Unlikely Love: Post Script (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #186 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“I’m eating because I’m very uncomfortable.”). I will probably be using Anna Stein’s character in a lot of the oneshots I write, so perhaps they’ll get their own miniseries. :)

Also should add that I wrote this while on Percocet after surgery so I apologize for typos or weirdness.

Written for @madpanda75; if you would like to be tagged on future Barba oneshots/fic, please reply and let me know! :)

Song: “My Shot” from the Hamilton soundtrack

~*~*~*~

“Mr. Barba? Anna Stein is here.”

Rafael Barba, the boy-wonder assistant district attorney, was not known for getting tongue-tied. In fact, he was usually the one doing the tying. But when his assistant opened his door and announced Anna’s arrival, he didn’t know what to say. After cases were over, he would nod in the victim’s direction, acknowledge their thank-you, and head back to his office to start all over again with someone else’s nightmare. He couldn’t remember a time when a victim had come to visit him after the case was over—and Anna’s case had been over for a year.

Last time Rafael had seen her, Anna was talking to Olivia in the hallway outside the courtroom where her rapist had just been sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Despite the victory, Anna had looked frail and somewhat dazed. After his years working with SVU, he knew this was understandable; sometimes a victim became so consumed with the trial that they didn’t quite know what to do after it was over. But he also knew Olivia had told her what she told all victims: that people who go through horrific experiences can survive and thrive when they get the support they need.

“Send her in,” he replied, but Carmen was already one step ahead of him—before he could even stand up, Anna was walking through his door. His breath caught in his chest; if he didn’t know better, he would never have been able to imagine this was the same woman who cried on a witness stand as John Buchanan tried to rip her apart. This woman walked tall, her blonde hair cascading down her back, pale skin glowing under the slightest coat of makeup. She looked like life had been breathed back into her.

She smiled at him as Carmen closed the door behind her. “Mr. Barba,” she said, walking toward his desk. “Thank you for taking a minute to see me.”

He extended his hand and she took it, giving him a confident shake. He remembered that about her; no matter how traumatized she had been, her handshake was always strong. “Of course,” he said. “How are you, Ms. Stein?”

“Please, call me Anna.”

“Okay, Anna. Have a seat.” She sank into of the chairs on the other side of his desk and, instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to her. “What can I do for you?”

“This is going to be a little—I mean, it’s going to sound—” She took a deep breath. “Ever since the trial, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do next. As you can imagine, I didn’t really feel I could go back to work there.”

“I can imagine. Your company wasn’t exactly helpful in the investigation.”

“No, of course not. They were more interested in protecting him. The CEO is more valuable than an executive assistant, and I’ve basically been blackballed in the financial industry.”

He nodded sadly, knowing how these things usually went. “Well, if it’s legal assistance you need, I can certainly recommend—”

She held up a hand. “Oh, no, no, that’s not it. But it’s kind of related, I guess. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about what I want to do now. And I talked a little to Detective Benson—Olivia—about it, and she’s the one who suggested I talk to you.”

He was intrigued. “Go on.”

She looked upwards and then let out a loud sigh. “I think I want to go to law school,” she finally said. “I know that that’s going to sound really—I mean, who just ‘decides’ to go to law school, right? And I know that most people go right after undergrad, and I have a biology degree, not political science or English, and—why are you smiling?”

He didn’t even realize he was. But listening to Anna talk reminded him of how excited he had been when he got his acceptance letter to Harvard Law. It shouldn’t even have been a surprise to him, considering he was poised to graduate from Harvard College. But it was still one of the most joyous days of his life, the beginning of the future.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not that I’m not taking this seriously. But I’m not sure what I can do to help you.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “I guess it’s just that seeing how hard you fought for me…I don’t really know any other lawyers, Mr. Barba. And I want to talk to someone who’s done this. I know you’re really busy, and I understand if—”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’d be happy to talk. Right now, I have to finish prepping this case”—he gestured to the open file on his desk—“but if you have some time later this week, I’d be happy to make some time.”

“Of course. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“First lesson about being a lawyer. Never turn down the opportunity to influence new lawyers.”

She grinned and stood up. “I’ll make a note.”

He whipped out his phone and checked his calendar. “Does Thursday night work for you? I could be free after seven.”

“That’s perfect. I hear Forlini’s is popular with the legal crowd.”

“Usually when I’m there, I’m eating because I’m very uncomfortable.” She raised an eyebrow. “Tends to be where the squad and I go after we lose a case,” he explained. “The food’s a comfort when justice isn’t.”

“Got it. So, where then?”

He thought for a second. “How do you feel about Latin food?”

***

The summer evening threatened a storm. Between when Anna left her apartment and her arrival at Coppelia, the Latin American diner in Greenwich Village where she was meeting with Rafael Barba, the wind had picked up and nearly blew the cab door off when she opened it. Thankfully, Rafael hadn’t arrived yet, so she had time to escape to the restroom. Once she secured the door behind her, she set to fixing herself up. She pulled her hair into an approximation of a bun on top of her head, opting to work with the windblown look rather than fight against it. She took her leather jacket off and disentangled her double-layered necklaces. After picking a piece of lint off of her black t-shirt and smoothing the lines of her jeans, she was satisfied that she looked like a decently put-together woman. But just before she opened the door to head back into the diner, she dropped her coat and went back to the mirror.

Before the rape, she’d never worn perfume or makeup. But she decided, once she started to rebuild her life, that it was time to take risks and try new things. She knew this wasn’t a date. She didn’t intend it that way when she’d asked to meet him. She didn’t expect he thought anything different, either. And yet, she still coated her lips with watermelon gloss and gave herself an extra spritz of Chanel Mademoiselle from the travel bottle she carried with her.

When she made her way to the front of the restaurant again, Rafael was just entering the restaurant. She tried to look unassuming; the last thing she wanted was to seem overeager, especially next to the confident and collected ADA.

“Ms. Stein,” he said. “Glad to see you found the place.”

“First of all, it wasn’t easy—this place is a hole in the wall, literally—and second, Counselor, I told you to call me Anna.”

He took off his overcoat, and Anna was surprised to see that he wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead, he had on a dark blue Henley and slim-cut jeans; somehow, she had never pictured him wearing anything other than suspenders and ties. “Well, if you want me to call you Anna, then you’re going to need to call me Rafael.”

The waiter sat them at a booth toward the back of the restaurant, where, thankfully, the noise was much quieter. Rafael ordered a scotch, and Anna ordered a glass of sangria. “Thanks again for agreeing to meet with me,” she said.

“No need to thank me,” he replied. “That said, I’m not sure what I can offer you. I went to law school ten years ago. It’s probably an entirely different process now.”

“It’s not really school I want to know about so much as…well…your life.”

“My life? What do you mean?”

The waiter brought their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Neither of them had looked at the menu yet, so they tabled the discussion in order to do so. “What’s good here?” she asked.

“Everything. But at the risk of sounding unbelievably boring, the Cubano is the best in the city.”

“Sold.”

“Wow, that was easy. Next, you’re going to let me talk you into applying to Harvard.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you think you talked me into anything? Maybe I already wanted to get that, and you just confirmed my choice.”

He smirked. “You’ve got a good poker face.”

“After what I’ve been through, I needed to get one.” When she saw his face fall slightly, her blue eyes flashed. “That was a joke. A bad one.”

He relaxed and took a sip of scotch. “I get it. We all cope differently.” Before she could ask what “we” meant, the waiter returned for their orders. Once he disappeared again, Anna pulled a notepad from her bag. Rafael laughed. “You do know that you have to trade your handwriting in for your law license, right?”

“You used notepads during the trial.”

He was taken aback. “You noticed that?”

“I had to focus my attention somewhere, I guess,” she said. “It was either that or be constantly aware of the assault on my life choices.”

She was referring, of course, to John Buchanan. He was the guy every rich white man accused of rape hired to get them acquitted and was also the perfect caricature of a defense attorney. His usual M.O. was to call the victim a slut or accuse her of lying or, Rafael’s personal favorite, claim it was consensual, rough sex. Listening to Buchanan, one would think that every woman on the planet enjoyed being dominated and sodomized.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to protect you from that,” Rafael said sadly, casting his eyes downward.

Anna’s eyes softened and she leaned across the table. “You did your job. I know that. Why do you think I’m here?”

He looked up at her again, and then at her notebook. It was one of those old-school composition books, the kind he used in high school. “Okay, first question. Why do you want to go to law school?”

She took another sip of sangria. “You promise not to laugh?”

“Of course.”

“You.” His eyebrows shot up, nearly off his forehead. She smiled behind her glass; she knew he’d have that reaction. “I know it sounds like I’m just kissing your ass, but it’s true.”

“No, that’s not why I’m—it’s just—I’ve prosecuted hundreds of these cases, and—well, truth be told…”

Anna cocked her head. “What? What is it?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve never even had a victim visit me after the case was closed, and now I’ve got you telling me that I made you want to go to law school. It’s a bit…”

“Overwhelming?”

He shook his head. “Not overwhelming. Just…unexpected.”

As their food arrived, she said, “If I’ve learned anything from the last two years, it’s that sometimes, the things we expect least change our lives the most.”

It would be years before Anna and Rafael realized how right she was; for the moment, he was content to tell her all about the law, and she was content to listen to him talk.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 10/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

Rey woke up cold and aching. It hurt everywhere—her neck, her back, her feet. The back of the car was certainly large enough to sleep in, but it had been an unrestful sleep. Every little thing had made her jump last night. Every headlight that zoomed by was the blonde woman. Every torchlight flitting across the alleys of the campground was looking for her. Every time the dog barked, someone was surely approaching.

She was tired, sore, and already contemplating defeat. She had left London to escape depression. But instead of a sunglasses-and-cocktails vacation, she had found herself in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, 7,500 kilometers away from home. And top it off, she was being chased by a strange woman. Her luck was six feet under and her paranoia through the roof.

She wished that Leia Skywalker (and even Rose to a certain extent) had warned her about what she was getting herself into because she had no clue what to do now. Last night she had seriously imagined leaving the car in a garage somewhere and taking a flight from Jackson Hole to San Francisco. Ciao, stalkers and bizarre favors.

But what about BB8? Rey had taken responsibility of her. Taking her on a flight would require veterinary clearance, a doggie carrier, and all sorts of other complications that she had neither the energy nor the means for.

Her gut feeling told her that this setup had been deliberate on Leia’s part. With a dog in tow, her safest bet was by driving that car back. Unless she could abandon the dog in the woods somewhere...

BB8 chose that exact moment to nuzzle against her, begging for affection.

“You were in the loop about this, weren’t you?” sighed Rey as she scratched the dog between the ears. “You’re the dog equivalent of a honey trap, you conniving little traitor.”

But seriously—it was just a dog, not a KGB spy. She would be fine...

Rey got out of the car and stretched. “Come on, let’s go for a walk and then look for some breakfast.”

She dug out the box of cookies she bought last night and ate one, occasionally giving bits and pieces to BB8 after making sure they were chocolate-free. She let BB roam free this time, sensing that she wouldn’t try to escape from now on.

Tent folded and loaded into the car, Rey packed the rest of her things. BB8 chased an errant squirrel, helped herself to some treats, and took care of business. Rey watched the dog play in the tall grass as she continued checking her phone for messages. A while ago she had even left a voice message to Ben.

Rey here, British and susceptible. Sorry for my reaction the other day, my life is complicated. I saw your band was passing through Jackson Hole on the 5th of July. I’m in the neighborhood, I might come around. Bye.

That message would likely cost her dearly. How was she going to justify contacting Ben again after the scene she had caused at the Four Seasons? To be honest with herself, she hadn’t seen an alternative last night, sitting there on the cold ground. Her family and friends were thousands of kilometers away. Leia Skywalker had disappeared on her.

Whether she liked it or not, Ben Solo was the only person she had maintained contact with since landing, and the only person who had really done her any good without expecting anything in return. She hoped she wasn’t bothering him.

To be fair he had also called her ex and meddled in her personal life when he barely knew her, but due to the circumstances she tried her best to forgive him for that. She had wanted to turn the page on that particular incident and banish Ben Solo from her thoughts forever—before that mysterious blonde woman showed up.

Since then Rey had fretted about traveling alone, with no one to turn to in times of trouble. It’s not like she needed a protector. She just needed a friend, if only for the comfort of knowing that she wasn’t alone. That several hundred kilometers down the road, there would be someone on the other end of the line if she ran into a problem. But it was 7 AM and he hadn’t answered.

In his defense, Rey had texted him around midnight. Maybe he just hadn’t seen it yet.

“All aboard, BB8!”

The dog jumped into the back seat and started chewing methodically on her rubber duckie. The resulting (absurdly loud) squeaking noises made Rey smile.

Hitting the road again, Rey regretted not taking a bathroom break or a shower, or using the washing machines available at the entrance of the campsite. She reeked of dog, sweat, and old car. Strangely enough, it made her laugh. The woman Finn had known had always been a belle, sporting manicured nails and designer perfume. If only he could see her now—he would hardly recognize her.

Come to think of it, thinking about Finn no longer made her balk. Was she simply too tried to be angry? She was just starting down a particularly sharp turn when her phone vibrated. It took every ounce of her willpower not to stop in the middle of the highway to read that text. The Millenium Falcon reached Jackson Hole a few minutes later, and she parked in central town before scrambling for her phone.

Hello, Brit. I see you’ve found my number, Rey. I’m settling in at Jackson H this morning. I’m staying at the Lodge, 80 Scott Lane. I’m free should you want to get coffee sometime—let me know.

It was barely a kilometer away, she could practically walk there. But once again she thought about the blonde trying to break into her car. She would feel much safer parking in the security of a private hotel garage. It only took a few minutes to find the place, a magnificent Swiss chalet complete with exposed beams and stonework. She spotted the infamous black pickup in the parking area and stationed the Millennium Falcon right next to it.

Hello Ben, I found the Lodge. Still up for coffee?

His response was immediate:

You’ll find me in the lobby.

Leia rolled her eyes when another TSA agent approached her as she waited near the baggage claim at Sacramento International Airport. She had been expecting it, but the sheer number of public servants under the First Order’s thumb still managed to surprised her. From the minute she had left the house she had been coincidentally stopped at every traffic checkpoint possible. It was chilling to realize that this sprawling private organization was in some ways above the law.

She had thought about giving up more than once.

What could she do at this age, with only her brother and a handful of rebels behind her? They were up against a massive corporate empire that had the feds in their pocket. But Leia Skywalker had fought her entire life. For the military, for her honor, for the love of her husband, for her son’s education, for minorities’ rights, and for the weary and downtrodden underdogs. Therein lied her definition of the brave: those who defended the defenseless. She could never stop doing that. Leia knew that nothing short of her death would result in her silence.

Leia let the man search her without protest—like every other officer before him. She was wearing a long charcoal dress and heavy ornate bangles of both wrists. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate braided chignon that added to her height. In her left hand, she carried a cane. It was less for walking and more for leaning on after spending long hours on her feet.

Like every other time, they let her go. He gave her suitcase back after failing to find anything suspicious—the lining was starting to wear. The object they were so eagerly looking for was no longer  in her possession. She smiled knowingly. Knowing that thousands of miles away, an English tourist was on her way.

Leia was greeted by a friendly face as she crossed the line into Arrivals. Her lawyer, Amilyn Holdo. Amilyn was a sixty-something daredevil, her greying hair dyed a striking violet. She was wearing a knee-length taupe skirt suit and violet pumps. Her smile was all dimples. She greeted Leai warmly and grabbed her suitcase.

“How are you, Leia? It sure took you a while—did they hold you up?”

“Like always, Amilyn. My health isn’t what it used to be and they wouldn’t let me go through the baggage claim. Every damn time. I’m forced to just ignore it these days. How’s the mission going?”

“We’ll discuss it in my office, you never know who’s listening. The meeting with Governor Valorum’s staff is in three hours, that gives us some time to plan.” Guiding Leia by the hand, she made her way to the taxi pickup zone.

The law offices of Amilyn Holdo were rather modest. Far from the ornate, high-vaulted, glass and steel monoliths that symbolized the American legal system in popular imagination. A room with a single window and wall to wall bookshelves laden with books and dossiers. Box after box of case files on every available surface, overflowing with papers, binders, envelopes, and notebooks with handwritten memos scrawled on every last page.

Amilyn moved a box stacked on a chair to make space for Leia to sit down. She poured a glass of water for her guest, and rummaged through a small cabinet. She handed Leia a hefty violet dossier held closed by a single strap. “FORCE America: First Order Resource and Capital Extraction”.

All traces of humor gone, the lawyer leaned forward and folded her fingers below her chin. “Tell me everything. Last I heard, you had found someone new?”

“Yes. Rose discovered the perfect candidate. It’s not like we could do it ourselves. We couldn’t use email or the postal service. And we would be spotted from a mile away if we did it in-person. I had to delegate.”

“But who is this girl? How do you know she’s not some FORCE spy?”

“Rose and Paige did a background check, it only took a few hours to clear her. We’re quite certain she’s just a broke tourist. It’s perfect really, FORCE was expecting an activist type, and there’s no way they can stop every single tourist from Colorado to California.”

Amilyn pursed her lips, visibly still unconvinced. “But you gave her the Falcon. Surely it will attract unwanted attention?”

Leia smiled. “They can take the Falcon apart piece by piece is they want, they won’t find a thing.”

“I wish I was confident about this,” she sighed. “This whole operation hinges on the element of surprise. If FORCE finds those documents before the public, we’re back to square one. And this time we won’t get a head start.”

She was interrupted when Leia placed a hand on hers, a comforting gesture. “Hope is like the sun, if you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night. Amilyn, this is the culmination of years of hard work. Have a little faith, they won’t win this time.”

“I hope you’re right, if we fail we won’t be able to recover and—“

“Trust me, Amilyn. This girl is very capable.”

The lawyer smiled begrudgingly, not quite uplifted by her client’s optimism. She chewed on the inside of her cheek in silence, avoiding Leia’s eyes.

“What’s eating you, Amy?”

“It’s—Kylo Ren.”

Leia’s smile faltered. Her face fell as she took a sip of water. “What about him?”

“You know he’s been tracking the Tico sisters. Ironically, that means they can keep tabs on him too...but it seems he left town a few days ago. Almost exactly the same time as the girls, Connix, Milham and the others.”

“FORCE already knew we were on the move. We planned for that. The more we scatter our agents, the more resources they spend chasing diversions instead of cracking our strategy,” Leia responded, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“Yes, I know. But Kylo has Snoke’s ear, and Hux’s attention. He knows the inner workings of our organization, he knows you and your brother. And he’s deeply involved with the Order. Are you sure he won’t see this coming?”

Leia’s shoulders sagged, as if burdened by the weight of her grief. She took a deep breath, pausing to find the right words. “Kylo is a brilliant boy. He was swayed by material wealth and prestige. He’ll understand one day. I don’t think he would dare to come after me himself.”

“And you?” Amilyn asked, “If we win, they’ll lose everything. Are you willing to put your own son in prison?”