#Shore Conference

[portablefrailty]

Ha! Found this in an old newspaper archive: a snapshot of the start of the 1600 m race at the Shore Conference Championships published in the Asbury Park Press back in May, 1997. The dude in the middle with the "South" singlet is me a few days after I turned 18. I didn't actually have a great race that day (something like 4:34 for around 9th place) but it's still pretty awesome that I wound up in the center of this shot (and kind of look like a badass).

In defense of my record (and fragile ego), I would add that the same year I took 3rd in the 1600 during the indoor edition of the same meet, contributing 6 points to our team's 40 point win (first in school history).

[mummifiedgoose]

I just know the Gaia Gang are going around shaking hands saying "good game, good game" now that they all lost the "who gets to kiss aloy first" game to Seyka

[threeravenspublishing]

Raven and the Crow Author Interviewed on TV!

If you’re a fan of the Raven and the Crow series and you’ve never met the author, now’s your chance to at least see him! Michael K. Falciani was recently interviewed by a TV station local to his area. ABC’s KOLO 8 spent a segment covering Michael’s writing career with specific emphasis on his newest release in the Raven and the Crow universe, Shores of Blood. Click the picture to watch the video,…

[hotelbooking]

DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel Chicago - North Shore Conference Center Enjoy all that Chicago (IL) has to offer with a stay at Have a hassle-free trip while enjoying the services and amenities offered by If you plan to arrive by car, you'll appreciate the hotel's free parking, right on-site. The hotel provides front desk services such as concierge service, express check-in or check-out, luggage storage and safety deposit boxes for guests' convenience. On cold days and nights, the hotel's on-site fireplace will keep you warm. Staying for a long time, or just need clean clothes? dry cleaning service and laundry service offered at the hotel will keep your favorite travel outfits clean and available. For lazy days and nights, in-room conveniences like 24-hour room service, room service and daily housekeeping let you make the most of your room. Little things you forgot to pack aren't a big problem! Just stop by the convenience stores to get what you need. Please be advised that smoking is...

[rafeandonlyrafe]

good boy

words: 1.5k

warnings: established relationship, marriage, protective!rafe, (guard??) dog, fluffy

“rafe, it's literally two weeks. ill be fine!” you say, folding his clothes, having dumped out his suitcase onto the bed to reorganize it when you saw how he packed it, just chucking things in.

“two weeks where im a hours away from you by plane.” rafe sighs, watching you carefully repack his suitcase as he pouts on the bed, not wanting to leave you.

“you know, cameron, i lived a whole 20 years before meeting you.” you point out, knowing while rafes concern comes from his love for you, it will completely overwhelm what is supposed to be an enjoyable family vacation and leave him miserable the whole time.

“i don't see why you can't just come with me.” rafe groans, flopping back against the bed. you smile and round the bed to where his head is resting against the pillows. you press a smooch to his forehead, rubbing your hand over his head, petting at his soft hair.

“baby, it's just for your family. you know that.” it's not like you don't want to accompany rafe to a tropical paradise, but you would feel way too awkward intruding.

“what if something happens to you? and im not here to protect you? id be the worst fiancee ever.” rafe grabs your head from rubbing his head, holding up the ring on your finger for him to admire.

“nothing will happen. nothing ever happens here.” you laugh. you're not sure what crime is like on the other side of the island, but your neighborhood is incredibly safe.

“im still worried.” rafe sighs. “you in that big house all alone.”

“im gonna spend 99% of the time wedding planning.” you hum, thinking about the tabs pulled open on your laptop of different venues, dresses, and color palettes.

that finally gets rafe to crack a smile. “can't wait to marry you.” rafe says earnestly. he only proposed a month ago, some people would say that you were too young to get married, but rafe knew when you came into his life and turned everything around for him that he had to put a ring on your finger.

“i can't wait either.” you bend down to press a kiss to rafes lips. “but seriously we need to talk about your packing before we tie the knot, why do you only have one pair of shorts packed for an island?”

-- two years later --

“remember those two weeks you left before we were engaged? it's not really much longer. you should go, baby. it's a good opportunity.” you are sat on rafes lap, back pressed against his chest as he scrolls through his email.

“it's just work, and it's a whole lot longer than two weeks. i don't want to leave you here alone for over a month.” rafe closes out of the email, making you sigh.

“i was fine for those two weeks, ill be fine now. promise. i think you should go! it's a big conference.” you turn sideways on his lap so you can look rafe in the eye. “besides, it's still six months away. plenty of time to prepare.”

“prepare?” rafe raises his eyebrows. “so you'd be good with security cams around the whole house and personal security?”

“cameras on the outside and hell no. you don't want some random guys watching after me do you?”

you can see the gears turning in rafes head as he frowns. “yeah, you're right. no men.”

“so you'll go?” you smile. rafe closes his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.

“yay!” you squeal. you're not excited to be left alone, and you love being around your husband more than anything, but the work trip is a big deal, and you know he'll be kicking himself if he misses out on such a good opportunity.

--

“rafey?” you call, eyes sweeping across the living room as you enter your shared home, a head full of fresh highlights.

“hubby?” you call out, continuing deeper into the house until you see movement through the glass door leading towards the backyard, but it's not the typical roll of the ocean against the shore.

“rafe?” you question as you open the door. you expected to find him in his office, where he was before you left for the beauty salon.

rafe smiles, waiting for your eyes to look down, and when you finally see what is sitting at rafes feet, you let out a gasp.

“oh my gosh!” you squeal. 

“wifey, meet max. our new australian shepherd.” rafe gives a command with his hand, that has max running towards you.

you sink to your knees as the young dog excitedly greets you, licking at your hands as you pet him.

“hi maxey.” you coo at the dog, you're guessing around two years old, with max being full size but still having some young features.

“rafe, you didn't tell me you were getting us a dog!” you stand up, max following close behind as you rush to give your husband a hug.

“i have a confession.” rafe says, his hands looped around your waist. you frown, worried that max was just a foster and you'd have to give him back, or that something went wrong with the adoption. you often talked about getting pets before getting married, but wanted to wait a little bit, and then time just slipped away and before you knew it, you were over a year into your marriage. 

“what?” you whine out.

“ive been working with a trainer behind your back. i wanted to make sure max was ready before we chose him for sure. he knows commands, me, your scent, our house. everything. he knows his primary responsibility is to protect you and our property.”

“oh my gosh!” you slap rafe in the chest, surprised that he was able to keep such a secret from you. “how could you do all that without telling me?” you laugh, not angry, but surprised that he was able to orchestrate everything.

you don't wait for rafe to explain how he was able to find so much time, stepping out of his hold to kneel down and continue petting max.

“we have some more training sessions so he can learn with you as well.” rafe further explains, also leaning down to pet max behind the ears as he pants excitedly at his new owners.

--

“what is it maxy?” you ask as he lifts his head up, looking around the living room. “you miss your daddy?”

you sigh as max lets out a sad sounding huff, petting your hand over his head, scratching at his neck which you know is his favorite. rafe has been gone on his business trip for a month now, with only a week and a half left until he returns home.

max suddenly jumps off the couch, eyes on the backyard. he lets out a bark, claws clicking on the hardwood floor as he moves to the glass door. he lets out another bark, making you stand.

“what is it boy?” you ask, looking out the window.

max lets out another bark, this one the familiar territorial bark that he’s practiced in his training with you and rafe. you know the only reason that rafe feels safe enough leaving you home is that max is a great guard dog.

you get closer to the window, squinting your eyes to try and see in the darkness when you sudden jump back with a scream as a squirrel runs across your patio, causing max to bark and run along the glass door until it scatters into the yard.

“holy shit, maxy, you scared the shit out of me.” you press your hand to your chest before kneeling down, scratching behind his ears. “it was just a squirrel.” you reassure him with a pat.

your heart rate is just starting to calm down from the fright when you hear the front door open. max instantly takes off with you following after him, letting out a sigh of relief when you see rafe standing in the foyer.

“baby.” he sighs happily, setting his suitcase down as you run into his arms, pressing your lips together. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, what are you doing home though?” you ask, giving him another kiss before he can answer.

“they didn’t need me for the rest of the week, decided to get home to my lady.” max barks, making rafe lean down to pet him, still holding you up. “and my good boy too, of course.”

“so happy to have you home.” you nuzzle your nose into rafes neck, inhaling the familiar scent that you missed so much. 

“happy to be back with you, wifey.” rafe says, carrying you further into the house.

“oh, and you will be very happy to know maxy did a great job protecting me while you were gone.” you tell rafe. it mostly involved max barking in warning at any delivery guy or car turning around in your driveway, but his presence did help making you feel safer and less loney.

“hopefully not too good.” rafe huffs as he looks at your pet. “can’t have him replacing me now.”

you giggle, surprised rafe can manage to be jealous of your dog. “never.” you swear, pressing another kiss to his lips.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Call It What You Want

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

Summary: You went to high school with Regina George and she is now your neighbor in your college dorm. She, of course, pretended like she didn't know you at first. Until she got some alcohol in her system.

Pairings: Regina George x gender neutral/fem reader

Warnings: internalized homophobia, feelings, school lol, swearing

Notes: Hi, yes. So this is my first time writing for not only Regina George but also for like reader POV. If it's any good and something people enjoy, I will do more of it. Hopefully you like it, but if you don't that's totally cool too. Thanks for reading either way.

------

You had managed to, for the most part, avoid Regina George your three years at North Shore High School. You transferred there your sophomore year, your mom taking full advantage of your dad's Evanston address when you got in trouble once at your public high school in the city. You didn't even actually do anything, but both your parents prioritized your future college education too much to let even a thought of bad behavior ruin it.

You made it through high school pretty unscathed. You laid low, had your small group of friends and kept to yourself.

You witnessed the rise and fall of Regina George in real time. You felt bad for her almost. Yes, she was a major bully, but the one time you overheard her dad yelling at her at a parent teacher conference kinda made some things make sense. She also didn't really target you with her bullshit.

Well, okay, someone wrote in the burn book that you were a carpet muncher and would call you a gay slur here and there, but you've been called worse things. People in that book were certainly called worse things.

Senior year was relatively quiet after Cady dismantled The Plastics.

Regina had taken up soccer, which was actually a really terrifying thought given the neck injury she sustained. She was good though. Good enough to get into University of Illinois, Chicago with a partial soccer scholarship.

But of course, her parents writing a big fat check may help with that.

She didn't even need the scholarship. You don't even know how she got away with getting it.

You also were accepted to UIC. You worked harder than Regina did academically, had some of the best grades in your class, did all the volunteering and extracurriculars, and you still didn't get close to the same amount of money offered in scholarships that Regina got (and didn't need).

You were angry when you found out about her almost full ride, but it was a big school and you were almost certain once you were graduated you wouldn't even be giving Regina George ,or anyone from that high school aside from your best friend, a second thought.

Seeing her at orientation seemed like just a coincidence. Watching her get her keys to the same dorm you were staying in had to be a fluke. Passing by her room, the room that happened to be next to yours, just seemed like you were being punked.

You got yourself settled while waiting on your roommate. You had been speaking with them throughout the summer and know they're coming from Colorado and also know they wouldn't be coming until tomorrow because they texted you. So you were taking advantage of this time to get yourself sorted without having to rush or anything.

You left your door open while you got yourself unpacked, a bunch of people coming by to introduce themselves to you or stop in and talk.

There was a soft knock and you turned your head, expecting to greet another person. Instead stood Regina, leaning against your wall with her arms crossed.

"Hello." You greeted, sounded a little surprised.

"Hi, I just thought since we were going to be neighbors I would introduce myself."

She almost sounded nice? Pleasant?

She also clearly did not recognize you. Yeah you trimmed your hair a bit and dyed it slightly darker, but nothing extremely different.

But this also really helps solidify just how invisible you were to her in high school.

You had two routes. You could bring up the fact that you actually know each other and make it weird, or just introduce yourself.

"Yeah, that makes sense. I'm Y/N."

"Regina. No roommate?" She pointed to the empty side of your room with her head.

"Coming from Colorado. So long drive." You scrunched up your nose at the thought of how long that drive was and she hummed in acknowledgment.

"Are you from around here?"

"Uh, yeah. The city, northside. You?"

"Evanston, so basically from the city."

"Ahh, you're one of those people." You chuckled.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She scrunched her eyebrows up, clearly getting defensive.

"You say you're from the city but you're from the suburbs. That's all I meant." You said softly, watching her face soften when she realized you weren't actually insulting her.

"Most people don't know where Evanston is, so." She defended with a small smile.

"Unfortunately for you, I do." You smiled back at her.

"Are you going to the freshman mixer tonight?"

"I didn't even know there was one." You answered truthfully.

"Mkay, you're gonna come with me then. I'll be back at like nine?"

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and saw it was only like 11am and you quickly realized the long night you've gotten yourself into.

Or that Regina had gotten you into.

"Yeah, that sounds cool."

"Awes. See you later then." She slapped your doorframe once before leaving.

But you didn't miss the way she turned and let her eyes linger on you for just a few seconds longer than what's considered socially acceptable.

---

You spent the rest of the day unpacking and getting settled. You went off campus for lunch then took a walk to get some refreshing frozen lemonade from a popular place near by and drank it while you made your way back to your room.

Regina was still setting her dorm up to her standards. Her door was open and when you peaked in, she was standing on a wobbly chair trying to tape posters to her wall.

Of course she got a single room.

"Need help?" You took a sip of your partially melted peach lemonade and knocked on her doorframe to get her attention.

"Yes, please. That would be great." She said, sound exasperated.

You held out a hand to help her off the chair, but she ignored it. Opting to just brace herself on your shoulder instead. You scratched your head and assessed the situation. You weren't really much taller than her, but your arms were longer so that could work in your favor.

You looked around for somewhere to set your drink before she took it from you to hold. You stepped on to the death trap of a chair and did your best to hang the poster. It was of an artist you had never heard of, but you wouldn't be opposed to new music if she was any good.

You pressed the corners of the poster against the wall and moved out the way. Regina thought for a few seconds before asking you if it was possible to 'pretty please' move the right side up like a quarter of an inch.

You did your best to gauge a quarter of an inch, and your best was thankfully good enough because Regina was satisfied with your efforts pretty fast.

She reached her empty hand up to help you off the chair and you hesitated at first, but took it. She stiffened her arm and gave you a firm platform to put your weight so you had support when hopping down.

Did part of you kind of expect her to let you fall? A little yeah.

"So, what are my chances of getting you to build something for me, too?" She asked sweetly while she handed you back your drink and you took a sip, your dry throat feeling relieved already.

"It depends what it is."

"It's a stupid metal shelf thing." She stepped aside and over the metal parts scattered across her floor.

There was an attempt made, so you at least know she tried before asking.

"Yeah, that looks easy to me. Do you have the instructions?" You handed your drink back to her and kneeled on the floor, rifling through all the pieces.

She set your drink down on the desk and handed you the instructions, sitting down on the floor next to you with her legs crossed.

This shelf wasn't too difficult to build, but it was definitely frustrating. The pieces were in the right spot but they just weren't fitting. Regina complained about how her parents bought her such cheap stuff and didn't even stick around to help her build it. It wasn't like they had a long drive home ahead of them.

She kept apologizing for asking you to help her with stuff or for the shelf being too difficult. She said many times that if you couldn't get it she would just throw the shelf away and not to worry about it if it didn't work out.

You reassured her that it was really okay and you were happy to help. That there was no need to throw out a perfectly good shelf. After a few pinches to your skin, a few scrapes from jagged edges, and a lot of swearing later, you managed to get it built for her.

You didn't expect her to be as involved as she was. She was handing you pieces, going over the directions with you.

You stood up and picked up the shelf, turning it up right so it was standing correctly. She stood up after you, eyeing the shelf with her hands on her hips and nodding.

"That looks perfect. Thank you so much, really."

"You're so good, happy I can help." You picked up your now melted lemonade and took a sip, trying not to be visibly upset over the fact it was no longer frozen.

"Did you get that on campus?"

"No, it's a few minutes away. Really close by. You didn't know that, city girl?" You teased and bit back a smile when you noticed the small blush to her cheeks.

"I was going to offer to buy you a new one, but since you want to be mean I'm taking that offer of the table." She crossed her arms with a small pout and the overwhelming urge to kiss it away scared you.

"No, no. I wouldn't accept anyway. It was like halfway gone. No biggie, honestly." There was an awkward pause between the two of you. "Um, was there anything else you needed help with? Or should I go?"

"You can go now." She said in a tone that felt like a war flashback or something. "I'll swing by your room to pick you up at like 8:45."

"Do you still want me to go?" You asked, because honestly her tone was suggesting otherwise.

"I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't." She defended, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

---

9:15pm and you were sitting at your desk dressed and feeling stupid. Because of course Regina was still going to very much so still be Regina.

There was a knock at your door and you waited a second before answering it.

When you opened the door, you keep your face neutral and unimpressed. Which was actually extremely difficult to do because Regina looked breathtaking.

"Yeah, I know. I'm late. Also, you look hot." She commented and it immediately made you feel self conscious because you couldn't gauge if it was genuine or not.

You thought you looked good, but Regina had been notorious for giving out fake compliments.

"Thanks."

"So you agree? You think you're hot?"

Jeez, talk about a war flashback.

"I do." You answered without missing a beat, but your insecurities were threatening to crawl their way out of your mouth at any second.

Regina pursed her lips and nodded in approval at your response and you slowly let out the breath you had been holding.

"Let's go then."

---

Regina abandoned you the second you guys got to the mixer. Which you half expected. You quickly realized that this was not an official university organized event, though the 9pm start time should've made that clear ages ago.

Another indicator being that they were at a frat house.

Alcohol was flowing, students from all different grade levels were mingling.

You grabbed a cup of whatever alcoholic beverage was concocted and got to mingling.

You talked with a few people that you found out you would be sharing classes with, which was cool.

After about an hour of mingling and drinking, you found your way to the front porch and parked yourself on their porch swing and just did a bunch of people watching.

A cat with a collar came and sat next to you, purring and nuzzling against you. You had no idea if it belonged to the frat house or if it was a stray that just frequented the area. The collar said her name was Roach which really made you thing she belonged to the frat boys, but an off campus address on the back put those fears to rest.

"You found a cat!" Regina slurred, stepping out of the house loudly. Her heeled boots clicked against the floor of the porch and she slammed the door behind her, completely shutting out the thumping noise of the party.

"Yeah! Well, more so she found me. Her name is Roach."

"Ew." She hiccuped and made her way over to you, sitting next to Roach. She angled her body and rested her head on your shoulder. "I have to tell you something." She slurred again, reaching down to let the cat sniff her hand before petting her between the ears.

"Sure, what's up?"

"I remembered you and I pretended like I didn't." She lifted her head up to look at you. "But you're a sneaky bitch too because you did the same thing." She poked your cheek with her index finger until you turned your head away from it.

"You talked to me first. I wasn't going to bother you." You admitted, getting a little frustrated.

"Why? You didn't want to talk to me?" She asked, sounding almost disappointed?

"I didn't think you'd want me to. Then I thought it would be really embarrassing if I said I remembered you and you introduced yourself to me. So I just didn't say anything."

"I didn't want you to tell anyone about who I was in high school." She rested her head against your shoulder again. "I just wanted to start over."

"I'm not going to say anything." You said quietly, a little disappointed that the only reason she tried befriending you was to do damage control.

"I feel bad about it."

"About what?"

"How I treated people." She sniffled, clearing her nose. "I'm sorry about what I wrote about you."

"It is what it is." You shrugged. "It's not like I hid my sexuality or anything."

"You didn't. It made me jealous."

Your ears perked up at this admission. You didn't know whether or not to press on or drop the subject. Whatever amount of alcohol she drank was giving her loose lips and you aren't actually sure how much of this information she actually wants anyone to know.

"You don't want to talk about this sober?" She shook her head against your shoulder.

"Talking about it sober is hard."

"Your parents not accepting or...?"

"My mom? Maybe. Probably. My dad? Absolutely fucking not." She took your drink from your hand and downed the rest of it.

"We don't have to talk about this anymore." You offered while she was downing your drink.

"I'm gonna get another drink." She began to get up, but you pulled her back down"

"Hey, no. Come on. Just stay here with me and Roach." You motioned to the purring cat between you both. "I don't want to lose track of you or the cat. So just stay."

Regina sighed and leaned back against the back of the porch swing. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at you.

"What if we brought the cat inside with us while I got a drink." She offered, giving you a silly little smirk that made your heart somersault.

"I think it's too loud for her in there." Roach let out small meow. "See, she agrees." You scratched under her chin, trying to ignore the way Regina was staring at you right now.

"You were always so nice to us."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I let Gretchen drive my car one time to get us lunch and she got a flat tire in the school lot and you helped her change it so I wouldn't get mad at her. You talked her out of a panic attack because she was so afraid of me."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." You lied.

"Or when Karen was upset after the Christmas show junior year because I was just so cruel to her about her body count. Which wasn't even high. I saw you bringing her that stupid red and green caramel popcorn that the cafeteria was selling for the show."

"I saw her crying, I thought it would cheer her up."

"You also gave me ice when they dropped me on my face and you tried taking care of me."

"I was working backstage and nobody else wanted to help you. Though, I do recall being called a shitty name or two when I did that." You teased.

"I know. I'm sorry. Like really fucking sorry. I was just...projecting."

"I know." You reassured.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, watching people come in and out of the house. Regina adjusted next to you and you put a protective had on Roach and scooted her closer so Regina had more space to move.

You could feel her staring at you. It made you anxious because who knows what she was thinking about.

Regina shifted again and before you can even register her movements, her lips were pressed softly against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"I always thought you were so hot." She mumbled against your skin, her tongue poking out slightly to taste you and her right hand coming up to cup your neck.

You froze for a few seconds, getting lost in the sensation of her lips on your skin, before your rational thoughts kicked in.

"Regina." You said calmly, pulling her hand on your neck. "You're drunk." You laced your fingers with hers and rested your joined hands on your lap.

You watched her stare at your hands, fully expecting her to go off on you or to say something cruel in her drunken state.

Instead, she swiped her thumb over your knuckles and hummed a small approval to herself.

Then a cluster of rowdy frat boys came fumbling out of the house and she let go of your hand faster than anything you had ever witnessed before.

She wiped her hands on her pants and stood up with such ease that it made you question if she was ever even that drunk to begin with.

"I'm gonna get another drink. I'll find you when I'm ready to go."

[laura1633]

Here are all the lovely fics , I would be so grateful if you could give these fics a read and leave some nice comments for the authors who took the time to write them. 💕

It's been a great gun fight (You drew blood, I set myself on fire) by LeonSolo There will be one religion in Italy, Charles Leclerc. On his knees, he will pray to a God he was supposed to kill.

Red Light at Dawn by LuciThornz Five months ago Max was kidnapped by pirates. Miraculously he was found safe, and now his father has arranged for him to start courting the Governor’s son. But it’s not that simple, Max hasn’t told anyone the whole story of what happened at sea, getting captured was never part of the plan, neither was falling in love. Now Max has a plan to get back on the open ocean and find the pirate he fell in love with before it’s too late. The funny thing about plans is they never do go smoothly.

The Tortured Driver's Department by Shadow_reads Prompt Fill for Lestappen Birthday Challenge:  Charles said he'd love to have his own F1 team in the future, and Max already has Verstappen.com. Max is also experienced and is most suited to being a team principal. Their shared retirement arc is where they own a team together: Charles handles the press conferences and media, while Max focuses on the data and strategy.

Forever Love by stealmysunshine Charles isn’t going to wait around for Max to pop the question. Who says that there is a preordained question popper? There are two people in this relationship and Charles has every right to show Max just how precious he is and make him feel loved.

(k)not in public by bananasomg When Max accidentally invites friends to tag along on his and Charles' holiday to Greece (which Charles has coined their mating oasis trip), Charles isn't phased, and Max is easily convinced. Hallowed Ground by crimsonmidnight When an FIA racing law forces Omega Charles to take part in a mandatory mating hunt after getting the Sauber seat, Alpha Max vows to do everything it takes to claim him as his own.

The Wait Is Worth It by crimsonmidnight Max Verstappen's adventures in purchasing a fucking machine and using it when Charles gets an attitude.

Sutures by jadesaturn After years of grueling battles, academic rivals Max and Charles part ways upon graduating from medical school until they meet again as surgical interns at the same hospital. Their age-old feud continues, as expected. Grey’s Anatomy Enemies to Lovers but make it Formula 1.

A taste of the divine by (anonymous on ao3) female!Charles ends up losing her virginity to Max and he is going through it.

i'd wanna hold you (just for a while) by Kashoot Charles doesn't normally want to regress, choosing to ignore his needs in favor of keeping busy with all his other obligations. "I'm a racing driver, Max, not a baby!" Max knows better.

Preloved by LaurawritingF1 After getting caught up in another scandal, Charles, the crown prince of Monaco, is sent to an 'Omega Establishment' to find himself an omega in the hopes it will settle him down. Charles is not at all interested in picking out a pretty housewife for himself and is intending to return home empty handed until he meets Max, an omega housed up in the 'Preloved' section of the establishment and clutching hold of his pup tightly.

Everything Changes, Yet Nothing Does by Shadow_Reads The sun was setting over Monaco, casting a warm golden glow over the city. The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore provided a serene backdrop, contrasting with the turbulent emotions swirling within Charles. Tonight was the night he would ask Max to spend the rest of their lives together.

how you get the boy(s) by amelielacy In which world-famous streamer Max falls in love with artsy single dad Charles.

Hunting Love by himmywimmy Charles becomes an unwilling participant in the pack’s annual mating run and to protect himself, he asks his alpha friend, Carlos, to catch him. But as the night of the mating run unfolds, another alpha seemed to be on the hunt for him.

5 moments of chaos and +1 moment of peace by LaurawritingF1 Charles and Max are retired and dealing with the chaos of looking after their children during the summer vacation. Jimmy, Sassy and Leo also make appearances. Them the breaks, they don’t come gently by imamessofawriter “They just announced that Charles is retiring.” Charles suddenly announces his retirement and then appears to disappear completely.

[kathlare]

drunk calls

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando Norris takes a break from the intense F1 season, heading to Cannes for some downtime with friends. Though he's surrounded by the beauty of the French Riviera, his mind can't help but wander to Amelie, who’s busy filming in the US. After a day of unwinding, Lando, in a slightly tipsy state, calls Amelie and ends up pouring his heart out to her.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: fluff, smau

request over here!

July 22nd, 2024 - Cannes, France

liked by landogossip, drszone4life, and others

f1wagwatch: Lando Norris was spotted living it up in Cannes 🥂🌴 alongside his usual crew, Max Fewtrell and Pietra Pilao, just days after his solid performance at the Hungarian GP. 👏 However, one familiar face was notably absent—sources confirm Amelie is back in the US filming her latest project. 🎥💔 Are we sensing a boys’ trip or just some downtime without the WAG vibes?

View all 759 comments

f1fanatic99: Boys' trip? Nah, it's giving "Amelie gonna kill him when she sees this." 😭💀 → speedyqueen_7: @f1fanatic99 The way he's smiling like he’s free for a second…

drszone4life: Pietra and Max being the mom and dad of the trip again, I see. 😂

landogossip: No Amelie? Interesting. Let the speculation begin. 👀 → gridgirl_xoxo: @landogossip Bro, she’s literally WORKING. Let her breathe. 🙄

lapqueen44: Cannes with the boys, huh? Bet he's FaceTiming her every hour. 🤣 → fastandflirty: @lapqueen44 Lando? Obsessive boyfriend era. 100%.

f1trash_420: Lando partying without Amelie is like Max without Red Bull—just feels off. 😭

ameliesarmy: Lando, you better be on your best behavior. We’re watching. 👀

drshadeslover: Someone check his phone—how many "I miss you" texts he’s sent already? 💀 → f1memehub: @drshadeslover Probably texting Amelie mid-party like, "Wish you were here 🥺."

chequeredcutie: If Lando doesn’t behave, Amelie’s gonna write another breakup anthem. 👏

orangearmy69: “Boys’ trip” aka Lando causing trouble while Max plays babysitter. 🤡 → paddocktalks: @orangearmy69 Poor Pietra, third-wheeling their bromance again. 😂

ameliefansonly: If I see ONE suspicious photo from this trip, it's OVER for him. 👀

f1lurkersonly: Someone call Amelie, her man’s unsupervised. 🚨

teamdayman: He should be flying to the US to support Amelie, not vibing in Cannes. 🤔 → norrisfanatic: @teamdayman Let the man breathe; not everything has to be about her.

--------------

Lando woke up in Cannes to the soft lull of waves crashing against the shore, but the soreness in his muscles from the Hungarian Grand Prix reminded him of the intense weekend he’d just endured. He groaned, running a hand through his messy hair, and rolled over to check his phone. A text from Max Fewtrell blinked on his screen.

Max Fewtrell: Beach day, mate. No excuses. Let’s go. We’re meeting Pietra at the club.

He stared at the message for a moment before groaning again and typing back.

Lando Norris: Fine. But I’m not getting drunk.

By midday, the trio had staked their claim on a prime spot at a beach club, with white sand under their feet and a waiter never too far away. Max and Pietra were already sipping on cocktails, laughing about some inside joke, while Lando leaned back in his lounger, sunglasses on, trying to relax.

—You look like you’re in a mood,— Max teased, nudging him with his foot.

—I’m fine,— Lando muttered, taking a sip of the beer Max had practically forced into his hand.

—Sure, you are,— Pietra chimed in, smirking. —Loosen up, Lando. You’re in Cannes, not a press conference.—

After a couple of rounds, Lando started to unwind. The alcohol was working its magic, and soon enough, he was laughing along with Max and Pietra, his earlier tension melting away. The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting everything in hues of gold and pink.

As the hours passed, Lando found himself at the bar, another drink in hand. He wasn’t smashed—yet—but the buzz was strong enough to blur the edges of his usual self-control. A group of girls nearby noticed him, giggling and whispering among themselves before one mustered up the courage to approach.

—Hi,— she said, twirling a strand of her hair. —You’re Lando Norris, right?—

—Uh, yeah,— he replied, offering a polite smile but immediately feeling the shift in the air.

—I just wanted to say, I’m such a big fan. Can I get you a drink?—

Lando hesitated, glancing back at Max and Pietra, who were watching the interaction with amused expressions. —Appreciate it, but I’m good,— he said firmly, raising his glass.

—Oh, come on,— she purred, stepping closer. —Just one drink? You deserve to celebrate.—

—Yeah, I’m... I’m all good, thanks,— he said, taking a step back. —Have a good night, though.—

He walked back to Max and Pietra, shaking his head. —Why does this always happen?—

—Because you’re famous and hot,— Pietra said matter-of-factly, earning a laugh from Max.

—Still taken,— Lando muttered, finishing his drink and standing up. —Think I’m done for the night.—

Max and Pietra exchanged glances, knowing exactly where this was headed.

Back in his room, the buzz had turned into a full-blown drunken haze. Lando flopped onto the bed, fumbling for his phone. His thoughts, clouded by alcohol, zeroed in on one person: Amelie. He wanted to hear her voice, to tell her how much he missed her.

He unlocked his phone and dialed her number, his finger slipping on the screen a couple of times before he managed to hit “call.”

Amelie was sitting in her trailer, scrolling through her script when her phone lit up. Seeing Lando’s name, she smiled but immediately guessed what was happening. She answered on the second ring.

—Lando?—

—Ames!— he said, his voice louder than usual. —Miss you, babe. Like... so much.—

She bit back a laugh, already amused. —You sound drunk. Are you drunk?—

—No,— he said, dragging out the word. —Okay, maybe. But like, just a little. Barely. I swear.—

—Mmhmm,— she said, grinning. —How was the beach club?—

—Boring. Max and Pietra are boring. Everyone’s boring. Except you.—

Her laughter bubbled through the phone. —Oh, I see. So now I’m the life of the party?—

—You are, Ames,— he said, his voice softer now. —Like, you’re my whole... my whole everything, you know that?—

—Lando,— she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. —You’re so far gone right now.—

—No, no, no,— he insisted, sitting up clumsily on the bed. —I mean it. I love you. Like, love you love you. You’re so... ugh, I can’t even think of a word. Perfect. That’s it. You’re perfect.—

Amelie’s cheeks flushed, her heart doing a little flip at his words. —You’re very sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?—

—I’m sweet all the time,— he countered, his voice defensive. —But like, I’m extra sweet right now because I miss you so much. It’s not fair, Ames. Why are you so far away?—

—I’m working, Lando. You know that,— she said, though her voice was tinged with amusement. —But we’re seeing each other soon, remember?—

—Not soon enough,— he grumbled. —I want you here now. Or I want to be there. Either way, I want you.—

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, lower, softer. —You have no idea how much I want you right now.—

Amelie’s eyebrows shot up, but she couldn’t help laughing. —Oh, do you now?—

—Yes,— he said, unabashed. —Like... you don’t even understand, Ames. You’re so fucking beautiful. Like, the most beautiful person ever. And I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk. I’d say it sober, too. Probably better sober. But like, it’s true.—

She bit her lip, trying to keep her composure. —Lando, you’re really laying it on thick tonight, huh?—

—Because it’s true!— he said, almost whining. —And I want to... ugh, I can’t even say it. You’re too far away, and it’s torture. I’m tortured, Ames.—

—You’re dramatic,— she said, laughing softly. —But also very cute. Go to sleep, Lando. You need it.—

—Not until you say you love me,— he said stubbornly.

—I love you,— she said, her voice warm. —Now, get some rest. You’re going to hate yourself for this tomorrow.—

—Don’t care,— he mumbled. —Love you, too. Like, so much. Goodnight, Ames.—

—Goodnight, Lando,— she said, smiling as she hung up, shaking her head at his antics.

The next morning, Lando woke up with a pounding headache and a vague memory of pouring his heart out over the phone. His cheeks burned as he unlocked his phone to find a single text from Amelie.

Ames💛: You’re adorable when you’re drunk. But wow, Lando. Just... wow.

He groaned, burying his face in the pillow. —I’m never drinking again.—

[desperate-gay]

can you do an Alexia one. Where they Are married, reader is pregnant and alexia takes care of reader just pure fluff or reader goes to alexias game

Mama

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

summary: ale always worries about her very pregnant wife

It’s well past 2 AM; the only things that can be heard are the waves crashing outside on the beach. Alexia is sound asleep next to you, but unfortunately for you, you’re wide awake because a certain someone keeps kicking. That someone not being your wife. You’re 6 months pregnant with a girl.

Both you and Alexia have talked about having kids during your relationship, so a little after your wedding, you followed through with IVF. It took a few times, so trying to get pregnant involved a lot of crying, disappointment, and anxiety about never being able to have a baby, but throughout the whole process, you and Alexia stuck together and became as close as you could possibly be. So when you began to feel nauseous and your period was late, you took a pregnancy test. You both had sat in the living room with the stick still facing down, too scared for it to be another negative, but after a while, you sucked it up, took a deep breath, and flipped it over. Two lines. Your wishes finally came true.

Now here you are, in mild discomfort and craving vanilla ice cream, but you don’t want to wake up Alexia. She’s been under a lot of stress due to all of the Spanish Federation, continuing to play football, testifying in court, and worrying about you and the baby. The last thing you want to do is disturb her sleep just because you can’t.

You move the blankets to uncover your body and roll out of bed. As quietly as you can, you tip-toe out of the room and head into the kitchen to browse the pantry for something that could satisfy your hunger, even if it’s not ice cream. You decide to settle for the graham crackers that have been sitting there for a while, and you walk over to the sink to look out the window at the beautiful view of the beach. The moon reflects off the water while the waves move up and down the shore, distracting you from the footsteps approaching you.

The feeling of hands slithering around your waist causes you to jump and let out a quiet squeak. “What are you doing down here, hermosa?” Your wife whispers, setting her chin down on your shoulder and swaying the both of you slowly. Your left-hand reaches behind you and cradles her head, pulling her even closer to you.

“Our daughter decided it was time to do some karate while I was sleeping. I couldn’t fall back asleep because she wouldn’t stop, and I was hungry.” Alexia moves back and turns you around.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She frowns while her eyebrows furrow, making creases in her forehead. You place your hands on each side of her face and rub your thumb over the wrinkles, allowing her face to relax a bit.

“Because you’re under a lot of stress lately, and you need your beauty sleep, baby. If anything was wrong, I’d wake you up immediately.”

“But I’m your wife, and you’re carrying our baby. I’m supposed to help you with these things while you just worry about resting and taking care of pequeña.” You know Alexia will drop whatever she’s doing to help you. It doesn’t matter if she’s in the middle of a press conference or even just taking a shower; she would run to you in a heartbeat. All you want is for her to be able to take care of herself, even if it’s just sleeping without being disturbed.

“Ale, I’m okay. Our pequeña is okay. You have been taking care of us these past 6 months, and we are nothing but grateful for that, but I can tell you’ve been struggling. There was no need for me to wake you up just because I was awake and hungry. Sometimes you need to think about yourself too, baby.” Alexia tries to object, but you place a finger over her mouth, forcing her lips to stay closed. “Now, we are going to go back to bed, cuddle, and go back to sleep. We’re both tired and who knows what the day will hold.”

Your thumbs rub over the apples of the taller girl's cheeks, while hers rest on your hips. She gazes down at you with nothing but a loving look in her eyes and a soft smile, only for you to see.

“I love you.” She says softly.

You pull her face down a little and angle your head up to meet her lips. It’s a soft kiss that still tends to make you swoon. “I love you always, Ale. I can’t wait to extend our family with you.”

[murcielagatito]

them too

besties

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative: Massachusetts (#6)

Whoa, it's December already? Wow! Been a while since I made one of these, but I honestly needed the break I think. So, uh...where were we? Ah, right.

Welcome to the sixth official poll of the State Birds Initiative! Before the poll, though, one thing real quick, and I cannot emphasize this enough! Read the post below before voting in the poll! It's not a requirement, but it is a real firm suggestion, especially important if you're lacking context about the birds being presented as the new (or old) State Bird of the Bay State, Massachusetts. This is to be fully informed as to why these are being presented, and to make your choices appropriately. Lastly, some of these birds, you will notice, *may *go against some of the rules listed in the introduction post. All is explained after the jump where the explanations are, I promise you that. With that...OK! Here's the poll!

Welcome to the sixth official poll of the State Birds Initiative! Before the poll, though, one thing real quick, and I cannot emphasize this enough! Read the post below before voting in the poll! It's not a requirement, but it is a real firm suggestion, especially important if you're lacking context about the birds being presented as the new (or old) State Bird of the Bay State, Massachusetts. This is to be fully informed as to why these are being presented, and to make your choices appropriately. Lastly, some of these birds, you will notice, may go against some of the rules listed in the introduction post. All is explained after the jump where the explanations are, I promise you that. With that...OK! Here's the poll!

Massachusetts, baby! I've had to travel away from the Bay State in the past week for a conference, but I'm excited to get back to this surprisingly great state. I say surprisingly because Massachusetts' reputation isn't a greatest for those outside of it, but living in it has definitely changed my mind for a number of reasons! That said, the time has come to talk about it a bit. The sixth smallest state in the union, Massachusetts is home to a number of prominent cities, both historically and contemporaneously. There is of course, Boston, the capital and largest city seen above via the big-ass CITGO sign. And while that's the city people equate with the entire state, let's not forget Worcester, Springfield, Cambridge, Lowell, Plymouth, Salem, Amherst, Natick, Cape Cod, etc., etc., etc. There's a whole-ass pile of classic New England cities in this small state, as well as a bevy of habitats and natural spaces.

So, to get into it a bit, Massachusetts is smack-dab in the New England temperate forests, with the highlands dominating the western portion of the state, and a flat lowland coastal region in the eastern half. Forests are temperate mixed, which contributes to the legendary falls that we see in New England. The coastal regions, meanwhile, are glacial in origin, covered in wetlands towards the center of the state, and beaches on the shores. Also of note are the various coastal marshes throughout the state, which serve as their own predominant habitats. Using the BioMap2 project as a framework, let's talk a little bit about these habitats.

Massachusetts, of course, sits on the Atlantic Ocean, which certainly isn't a first for this list, but is vitally important as we go further north into New England. In the case of Massachusetts, we're looking at sandy beaches and dune habitats as prominent foraging and nesting areas for various shorebirds, which does make shorebirds a high likely focus for this list. Some of you probably know one of the most important birds we'll be looking at, but we'll get to that one, don't worry.

Alongside the beaches, estuaries are a prominent habitat along the shorelines. Places like Plum Island, in northern Massachusetts, or Belle Isle Marsh in the middle of Boston itself, personally come to mind. Massive saltmarshes that are vital stopover habitats for migrants, habitats for insects and endangered turtles, and coastal salt ponds and tidal marshes that house incredible biodiversity within them. There's a lot of focus coming to the coastlines, that's what I'm saying. All of these habitats and the species within them comprise about 41,000 acres of land, and about 75% of that is in danger from development and rising sea levels.

Now, I'm gonna skip over a bunch of other habitats here, especially freshwater wetlands and riparian habitats, because while these are extremely important, they won't be getting as much focus here. Now, we need to move on to the forests. I've talked about them before in Connecticut, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, but we've got a very specific situation here in Mass. Here, because of the large number of people and settlements, fragmentation is a very prominent problem in the state. For the uninitiated, habitat fragmentation is basically what it sounds like: splitting up habitat by roads or other man-made corridors, breaking up populations of several animals, birds included. Doesn't sound like a big deal to animals that can fly, but birds don't like crossing corridors if they can help it, because it makes them vulnerable to predation (of adults and nests) and car strikes. So, forests of New England and Massachusetts are a habitat of needed focus. And while this will receive a slightly lesser focus, most likely, it's still a place we'll take a look at.

These three habitat types, wetland, coastal, and forest, are the most important in Massachusetts, as well as in New England (which, again, will change slightly as we head further north). But there's also the ever-important human element to consider, ESPECIALLY here.

While I said Boston doesn't define the entire state, and it doesn't, it's also the second most populated city on our list of states thus far, and happens to be one of the most important places in the country historically. Let's not forget, this is basically the seat of the American Revolution in many ways, so it's a pretty major part of our cultural identity as a country. And trust me, Boston is fully aware of that fact. I'm never one to dabble in stereotypes, but Bostonians are extremely proud to be Bostonians most of the time. It's a proud city, and that's understandable from a traditional point of view.

Plus, with Plymouth Rock 40 minutes to the south (and not worth the drive, from what I've heard), the textile-based seat of the American Industrial Revolution 40 minutes to the north (looking at you, Lowell), the site of the "shot heard round the world" 15 minutes away (Concord and Lexington, of course), the oldest American university 5 minutes away (Cambridge, of course), and the home of the legend of the American witch about an hour north (Salem, of course)...look, it's a central hub of the state, and it WILL not be ignored! So, with that said, grab some coffee from Dunks and some clam chowdah, let's settle in and check out some birds!

If anybody has a suggestion that I hadn't brought up here, send it my way! I will absolutely add another poll if there are entries I think could bear fruit. But, in the meantime, read on if you're interested in the possible choices for the State Bird of Massachusetts!

Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus)

I gotta say, I have a real soft-spot for these guys. Although, to be fair, I think most people do! Named after their iconic call, and their memorable black cap, the Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) is one of the most iconic birds of New England, and arguably of North America. I say arguably only because there are a few chickadees in the United States, but the Black-capped is one of the most famous. We'll revisit the rest in two later posts, but this one is our focus today.

This bird was originally chosen because, well, it's iconic. I assume. To be honest, I don't actually know why it was chosen, outside of it being recognizable. It's also possible (POSSIBLE) that it was inspired by nearby Maine's choice of State Bird. But that's a choice we'll get to at a later date, I promise you that. As for the BCCH here, does it fit the state? I'll be honest, I actually like the chickadee for Massachusetts' State Bird. Partially, that's because it's a bird that can be found all throughout it with no difficulty, and it's an excellent beginner bird for kids (and just-starting amateurs). But, it's also small and incredibly scrappy, just like Massachusetts. I've had these guys in hand before, and I tell you, these little bastards'll hammer away at your cuticles with their beaks to get you to let them go. Doesn't hurt, unless they really try to grab on and twist at a sensitive spot, but they're fighters!

They're also quite social and vocal, which also fits residents of the Bay State. They have a unique language, with an alarm call that's recognizable by multiple bird species for warning, and it's also their most famous call ("chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee"). The more "dees" there are, the higher the perceived threat is, fun fact. They hang out in groups in the winter, both with other chickadees and other birds, and their brains generate new neurons in the autumn and winter to remember and navigate to places where they can find food during a difficult harvesting season. That's how I feel when I have to remember where the nearest Dunks is for coffee, not gonna lie.

I realize that I'm making some convincing arguments for the incumbent here, but...yeah, there's a reason. I do honestly think this is a solid choice for the State Bird of Massachusetts, so I'll support its re-election if that occurs. But with that said and presented, let's move on to the challengers. Some are good, some are mediocre, and some are a bit surprising. And some...should maybe belong to a different state.

Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus)

eBird's suggestion is, unsurprisingly, the Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus), because a whopping 25% of the breeding population can be found in Massachusetts, according to eBird Status and Trends. And WOW, that is a massive proportion. That means, just to make this clear, one in 4 of ALL Piping Plovers are born in Massachusetts. Significant proportion, meaning that this has a claim on the role of MA State Bird for that reason alone. And Massachusetts certainly knows this, as several beaches in the state are shut down during the plover breeding season to allow them to nest in peace, without human disturbance.

In fact, when Piping Plovers were declared endangered in the Endangered Species Act, Mass Audubon launched the Coastal Waterbird Program to protect them and a later entry on this list. The population has exploded tenfold in the last 40 years of conservation work, and these are a pretty easy to find species now, if you're looking for them. This is a great introductory bird, both to conservation efforts, and to shorebirds (which are notoriously difficult to identify). It's also, surprisingly for shorebirds of this ilk, pretty easy to identify. And also...they're incredibly cute. I mean, have you seen the babies? It's crazy how cute they are. Seriously, LOOK AGAIN. Precious. Another solid candidate, and an excellent representative of the beaches of Massachusetts.

Ipswich Sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis princeps)

Ah, the Savannah Sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis). We meet again. Sorry to abandon you back there in Georgia, but to be fair, you were only nominated there because you're named after a major city in the state. But here...ah, wait, right, same thing. Now, to be fair, you've probably mentioned that the nominated bird is the Ipswich Sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis princeps), not the Savannah Sparrow. But this is, of course, a subspecies of the Savannah Sparrow, named after Ipswich, Massachusetts due to its first sighting there. Larger and paler than its compatriots, the Ipswich Sparrow is known from Massachusetts...but breeds in Nova Scotia. Yeah, we've got another Connecticut Warbler (Oporornis agilis) situation here. Yikes.

So, is there a reason to nominate this bird for Massachusetts outside of its name? Well...actually kinda. These pale sparrows are, to be fair, pretty uniquely found in Massachusetts. And, while this isn't the only place you can see it, it is a reliable place to find it. It's sighted on the dunes on the Massachusetts coast, blending in with the light-colored sand, and making its way to and from Nova Scotia, where it only breeds on one island. So, conservation concern (and focus), seen in the state (even if it doesn't breed there), relies on some of its habitats of focus (saltmarshes and coastlines), has a tie to it that's unique to Massachusetts...it's something. Not as good as other options, but...something. In any case, let's move on.

Snowy Egret (Egretta thula)

Hold on. We saw this guy in the Connecticut post! What is this post, a bunch of repeats? Well, to be fair here, the Snowy Egret (Egretta thula) is a slightly better fit for Massachusetts than it was for Connecticut...for the exact same reason it was suggested for Connecticut. Well, part of it, anyway. I stand by the idea of applying the "macaroni" label to the Snowy Egret to fit with Connecticut, but it's the Audubon Society part I'm focusing on here. Lemme quote the previous post:

To be clear here, quite a lot of birds were used in millinery back in the day, but the Snowy Egret (and the Great Egret (Ardea alba), for that matter) are special. Those long white feathery plumes were heavily prized as hat decorations, enough so that the species nearly went extinct from hunting them for the hat trade. As a result of that, people began to turn their eye towards conservation of the species, and the protection of birds in general. Two women, Harriet Hemenway and Minna B. Hall, got a group of women together to protect the birds. They rallied the troops, and their organization became fairly popular. Eventually when they sought to name it, they did so after one of the most famous ornithologists in American history at the time: John James Audubon. And from there...well, you can guess.

The Audubon Society is one of the premiere bird conservation organizations in the world, and especially in the United States, and is well-known to the public sector. And it was born right here in...Massachusetts. Oh. Wait, have I jumped the gun on this one?

I had, indeed, jumped the gun. So, to fix that now, let's throw the Snowy Egret in here instead! After all, it does breed in the state (a little bit), and I actually saw some earlier this year in Parker River NWR! It has a historical tie, and to the largest conservation organization in New England! Trust me, Mass Audubon is a MASSIVE deal up here, and their link alone gives me cause to put the Snowy Egret on this list. That said, though...that's not their logo.

Common Tern (Sterna hirundo)

To my genuine surprise, the logo for Mass Audubon is actually the Common Tern (Sterna hirundo), an aerial and acrobatic seabird found on the shores of Massachusetts, in some surprising places. In Massachusetts, though, there's a major tie to conservation and the Common Tern, because this is actually one of the birds whose feathers were stolen for hats, inspiring the foundation of the movement. Yeah, both the Snowy Egret and this species, which was (and is) more common here. So, if there's an Audubon-related bird to be elected, it probably should be this one, to be honest. This is a species, understand, that was crashing in population in the late 1800s, and was saved from hunting by a young Mass Audubon. Between 1889 and 1920, the population bloomed eightfold, from 5,000 pairs to 40,000 pairs. An impressive population boom in every possible way. However, that wouldn't last.

Herring Gulls (Larus argentatus), human activity, and various other disturbances have created numerous population crashes and bottlenecks in the species' history in Massachusetts, keeping them a conservation focus to this day. The species has notably spread throughout the state's coastlines to this day, and they aren't terribly hard to find. In fact, you can see them in the Boston Harbor, from the shore! I've seen Common Tern from the New England Aquarium very often, in fact, and it's sort of magical to see them smack-dab in the middle of the city. Their habitats of beaches and shorelines need to be maintained and protected, so throwing the conservation focus on them is incredibly valuable for the species' future. A solid choice for State Bird (or another category sponsored by the SBI), if ever there was one.

Veery (Catharus fuscescens)

But wait, coming in at the last moment, just making it, the Veery (Catharus fuscescens)! Yeah, this one's a bit of a surprise, but I found out some very interesting info recently. The Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapilla) was not the first nominee for State Bird; instead, in 1931, the State Federation of Women's Clubs (yup, another woman's organization) nominated the Veery for the State Bird...and got shot down. It took them ten years to nominate the Chickadee for unknown reasons, meaning the Veery probably didn't even get its day in court. Shameful! So, let's try and rectify that here, shall we?

Veery are thrushes, famous for the beautiful, ethereal calls that give them their name. This is a robin-sized migratory songbird that breeds in the forests of New England and southern Canada, and are an iconic New England bird in their own right. They're found in forested wetlands (that's two habitats of concern in MA), usually fairly close to beaver ponds, and the two species are often associated. It's also a species mentioned in Henry David Thoreau's Walden, one of the most important environmentalist literary works in American history, as well as an important Massachusetts story. It's also currently spreading in the state, increasing the size of its range, while also experiencing slightly decreasing populations, meaning that focus is still needed. And again...that song. It's a delight to hear it in forests, and recognizing it is a great step for beginning birders to pay more attention to the sound around them.

And with that...yeah! We'll end it there! Only six nominees, and you're probably wondering what's happened to the State Raptor and State Game Bird. Well...I'll explain that once we get to the results. Because that's a bit more complicated then expected.

See you next time, and happy birding!

[stemgirlchic]

we are stem

to the little girl first discovering a love of science on a school trip to the planetarium

to the little boy who dreams of diving into the depths of the ocean and discovering the world at our shores

to the burnt out high schooler wishing their science classes felt more like the theorizing video essays they watch until 1am

to the premed student losing her mind over a lab report

to the grad student standing tall at his first conference

to the programmer fearing she won't be taken seriously in heels

to the biologist afraid to introduce his PI to his husband for fear of being thought of differently

to the doctor whose patients ask to touch her hair and mispronounce her name

to the chemist wheeling up to his lab station

to the artist who is an engineer who is an artist who is an engineer

to the thinkers, dreamers, worriers, gamers, watchers, theorizers, believers

all genders, all races, all religious, all nationalities, all sexualities, all personalities

stem is incomplete without us

[meidui]

to the point of invention

for @robertdowneyjjr

There are four quiet years after Tony Stark's infamous press conference as stock prices climb back up the vine and Stark Industries earns its reputation back. Iron Man is, among other things, good crisis management. For four years, Stark Industries grew its branches in robotics and microtech and slowly but steadily puts down new roots in clean energy. Four years is long enough for thinkpieces on the slumber of Stark Industries to get old.

Then, all of a sudden, new inventions begin flying out the doors of that tower again, every patent hot off the press, a renaissance of when Tony was too young to run the company and just young enough to be called a wunderkind. What's different is that this time, his designs land in civilian hands.

First comes Everglass, a nearly indestructible glass that self-repairs. They're installed on the windshields of people's cars, mostly. Then come the StarkVision glasses, which are contracted in bulk to underground mines and fire departments. There's MyJarvis, an AI home assistant that nursing homes love.

Tony Stark does an interview, his first public media appearance in two years, and the interviewer wants to know where he gets his inspiration from these days.

He smiles a little, not at the camera and barely even at the interviewer, and then says, "I've got this friend. He's pretty accident-prone. I guess that's my inspiration."

-

There are four busy years after the press conference that still gives Pepper a headache. Tony shores up the company on one shoulder and the world on the other, and this is his chance to do something good, so he doubles the size of his robotics and microtech divisions and doubles them again and starts in clean energy. He spends four years with his head down, making up for the last twenty, and sometimes he wonders what the hell he's going to make next, if the only thing he's good for is weapons.

Then Steve Rogers comes crashing into his life like a comet, and in the wreckage he makes, Tony thinks, I can do better than weapons.

Tony watches him stumble off the Quinjet, glass shards in his hands and a gash on his forehead where a bit of debris blew through the broken window, and after he sits through medical with him, he disappears into his lab and comes out two days later with a prototype: a panel of glass that's nearly indestructible and self-repairing if it does break.

They're busting a black market bunker when the lights crash out and the pipes burst, and Tony's got his HUD, but there's panic in Steve's voice because he can't see in the pitch black and the water is getting higher and higher. That night, with one hand still wrapped in a mitt of bandages, Tony fits Steve for a pair of specialised glasses.

In a moment of vulnerability, Steve says that he likes JARVIS because he's been easy to understand since the beginning. It was the first thing about the Tower that made him feel safe, and Tony realises just how many people JARVIS is capable of helping.

Tony accepts an interview request for the first time in four years. It's a live taping and he gives Steve a VIP pass to it.

"This is for me?" Steve asks, lighting up, and Tony smiles at him, resisting the urge to tell him, it's all for you.

[fistfuloflightning]

Cloud Recesses was much as he remembered, silent and still beneath a layer of new snow. Pristine and untouched and icily perfect. He… no longer cared for it. Home was loud and boisterous and water lapping the shore and the scent of lotus flowers and dark hair curled around his fingers. Something much more alive. But. It was nice to see snow again. And to share it. Lan Wangji took three steps in the snow, paused, listened.

The telltale crunch of smaller steps behind him, a muffled giggle. Snowflakes caught in his lashes as he kept his gaze steadfastly forward. He took another four steps, purposefully lengthening his stride.

“No fair!”

Lan Yuan’s squeal was as muffled as the white world around them, a far cry from their home in Lotus Pier. When Jiang Cheng had first suggested the visit to Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji had been suitably uncertain. He had left on less than ideal terms with his uncle and brother and he’d been under the impression that his return would be unwelcome. Even now, returned to Gusu Lan for a conference, he was treated with the characteristic chill politeness due to a sect leader’s spouse who did not act in any political capacity.

But perhaps he should have insisted on accompanying Jiang Cheng to the private meeting with both Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen…? Unsupervised, it was sure to end badly. But he trusted Wanyin.

Lan Wangji turned sharply, catching A’Yuan in the act of attempting his yet unmastered qinggong, four year old A’Ling stumbling along in his wake and trying to use Lan Wangji‘s footsteps as a path.

But the moment he reached the point where the steps grew too far apart, Lan Wangji swooped the boy up. Taking his a distraction as an opportunity, A’Yuan leaped on his back. With A’Ling squirming like an excited puppy in his arms and a gangly A’Yuan hanging around his neck, Lan Wangji swung them around.

He remembered the rules carved into the Wall of Discipline, knew that he should count himself as an offender multiple times over for just this simple act of playing with his sons—but they were alone and he had left his inhibitions in the icy rooms of the Jingshi long ago when Jiang Cheng had come to claim him as his given-groom.

A’Yuan’s skinny arms tightened around his neck. “I’ve got you!” the boy cried.

With a near-silent huff of laughter, Lan Wangji dropped to his knees, pretending to be dragged down by force. The boys fell full-body into the snow, their laughter shattering the stillness like glass. Struggling out of the snow they ambushed him again, both immediately trying to bury him in the drift.

It was this tableau that welcomed Jiang Cheng as he approached on the stone path. Lan Wangji gave his husband a once-over, noting his unscathed form and his calm composure, a unlooked for miracle to come out of the meeting with the clan leaders.

Jiang Cheng stood calmly with his hands laced behind his back. “It appears you are losing the war, Hanguang-jun,” he said, one brow lifting mockingly. “The hero of the Sunshot Campaign, brought low by two urchins. How the mighty have fallen—”

His mouth was stopped by Lan Wangji’s unerringly aimed snowball.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

When Cody Diabo recently learned that the bay restoration project on Kateri Tekakwitha Island was near complete, he took his family for a walk there to see its transformation from a dry, rocky shore into a marsh teeming with life. 

The island off of Kahnawà:ke, a Kanien'kéha:ka community south of Montreal, was once a small archipelago of lush, natural islands — but it became a single piece of land after sludge from the river and blasted rock was dumped onto the archipelago by construction crews building the St. Lawrence Seaway about 70 years ago. 

"For the first time coming to the island since I was a little child, I saw corn growing," Diabo, council chief responsible for the environment portfolio at the Mohawk Council of Kahnawà:ke, said at a news conference Wednesday announcing the completion of the nearly decade-long project to restore water flow in the bay and naturalize its surroundings. 

"To be able to see a substance that's dear to Onkwehonwe people and Kanien'kéha people — corn — growing here, where it was essentially barren for a while … that was just a sign that we were doing something really good." [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[geminiwritten]

this means war ; bones

fandom: star trek

pairing: bones x reader

summary: based on this song but incredibly drawn out and long winded (you're reuniting with the enterprise crew for jim's birthday almost six months after leaving for a job at the academy because of a messy breakup)

notes: hey, i'm back! life has been super busy but i was listening to this song a few months ago and decided that i had to write something for it... and then a few months and thousands of words later... here you go! it is a little bit messy, but i can't not post it. let me know what you think! please!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual references (i promise i am working on writing actual smut and not this fade to black crap), and lots of words i'm sorry if it sucks

word count: 10749 (i have no self control)

The birth date of James Tiberius Kirk is either a taboo subject not to be mentioned or alluded to for the entire month of March, or an intergalactic holiday that must be celebrated for a full two weeks straight. This year, it’s a celebration. The USS Enterprise is docked at Starbase Yorktown after doubling back due to an unfortunate encounter in unfriendly space, but not even a month's setback on the starship’s five-year journey could put a damper on her captain’s birthday. In fact, the party itself was arranged in all its grandeur after the unlucky incident, seeing that shore leave provided the perfect opportunity to drink and be merry in celebration of Jim’s ageing.

So it was your best friend’s birthday celebrations that finally dragged you out of your dark and comforting office at Starfleet Academy for the first time in four months, all the way to Starbase Yorktown. It was a long journey, which you were thankful for, because despite it being almost half of a year since you left your post on the USS Enterprise, you’re still not sure if you’re ready to face her crew again. Of course you miss them, they were your closest friends long before the Enterprise’s five-year assignment, but when Starfleet made you an offer you couldn’t refuse, well... you couldn’t refuse it. Or at least, that was the story you stuck to when your friends begged you to stay. It most definitely had absolutely nothing to do with a saga of heartbreak and animosity.

“Okay, breathe,” you tell your reflection, watching the colour in your cheeks deepen the more you reminisce. The black dress you’re wearing is perfectly complimentary, accentuating all the right parts and boosting your confidence just enough to get you out the door. The hallway wasn’t too difficult, but the elevator descent awakens the anxious butterflies in your stomach, and the hotel lobby has your heartrate rising with every click of your heels against the polished marble floor.

“This is ridiculous,” you sigh, earning a few odd glances from passersby as you exit the hotel’s main doors. The artificial air outside is warm and the sky mimics a pink and orange sunset that casts long shadows on the pavement. You watch your own move as you head toward the party venue; a Federation building purpose-built for conferences and training seminars that Jim had somehow convinced someone to let him use. You often forget how respected the captain really is.

The walk isn’t long, and before you can even attempt to quell the nausea rising up from your stomach, you find yourself standing in the foyer of the building. The reception desk is empty except for a small sign atop it with an arrow pointing down the corridor, reading ‘Captain Kirk’s Birthday Extravaganza’. You have to force your feet to move in the direction of the music and chatter, despite every fibre of your being telling you to turn around.

The doors to the room are open, so you have absolutely no time to steel your nerves before the first person recognises you. A cadet from the MedBay, of course, you spent enough of your time there for every medical crew member to know who you are. His face is a mixture of confusion and delight as he calls out your name, “Y/N!”

You plaster on a smile, push your shoulders back, and walk into the party.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” the cadet, Trevor, says, “Doctor McCoy said you-” Before he can finish his sentence, another body slams into yours, knocking the breath out of you and almost knocking you clean off your feet.

You stumble back but catch yourself, suddenly wrapped in the familiar smell of wild berry scented shampoo with a ponytail full of brown hair in your face. You hug her back, fighting tears as you mumble into her hair, “Nyota.”

“I can’t believe you came!” she says as she pulls away, her own eyes glassy with moisture, “how long did it take to get here?”

“Not that long,” you shrug, “and it was nice to see the stars again.”

She frowns, “you can still see the stars from the academy.”

“Not from behind my desk, you can’t,” you say through a forced smile, trying to make your sad reality sound like a jest. You truly did hate your dark little office; the only window was facing right at a brick wall of the next building and one of the two ceiling lights had died within a month of you moving in. It was always dark, always cold, and so far from anyone else, you often felt as if you were living in an apocalyptic world.

You only catch a glimpse of Nyota’s sympathetic stare before you’re wrapped in another pair of arms. “Y/N!” Jim exclaims, right into your ear, “you’re here!”

Tears threaten to fall once again as you hug your used-to-be captain back. “I’m here,” you mutter into his shirt.

He pulls back, his blue eyes practically glowing as he takes you in, “you look incredible.”

“Thanks,” your cheeks warm, “not looking so bad yourself, Captain.”

He chuckles, “you can’t call me that anymore, remember. You’re not a part of my crew.”

You know he’s only joking, but the words still cause a small fissure in your already fragile heart. “You’re still a captain, and didn’t you promise to keep my post vacant?”

His previously easy smile falters, but only slightly. “I did, in case you change your mind,” he sighs, “but only for six months.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t hold the position longer than six months,” he puts a hand on your shoulder as if he’s giving you the worst news of your life, “if you decide to stay at the academy, I have to replace you.”

“Wait,” you frown up at him, “is that why you asked me to come, so you could tell me to officially sign off of the Enterprise?”

“No, of course not, I just-” he hesitates before sighing again, “let’s not talk about this now, okay? I invited you here because I miss you.” He pulls you back against his chest and you let yourself relax, allowing the familiarity of your best friend to soothe the fresh wave of anxiety coursing through your veins.

“Now,” as he pulls away, Nyota puts a flute of champagne in your hand, “there are a few people who would really like to see this gorgeous face.”

You roll your eyes as he slides you under one arm and walks further into the crowd. “Even though I know you’re talking about yourself,” you say, “I’ll still pretend I’m flattered.”

It doesn’t take long for the rest of your friends to realise you’re here. Sulu and Chekov are first, each wrapping you in a tight hug before Scotty appears. You didn’t expect him to be that emotional, but you find it difficult to hold back your own tears as he sniffles against your shoulder. Keenser isn’t far behind, holding another full glass for you and taking the empty one back to the bar, no doubt about to retrieve more drinks for himself and Mr. Scott.

The more you watch the grins on your friends’ faces, the more your heart aches to return to them. It feels as if you never left, aside from a few funny stories from the last couple of months that Jim reenacts for you with tipsy enthusiasm. You almost forget about the reason that nearly stopped you from being here; the reason your whole body wanted to turn and run with every inch closer you came to this place.

Almost forgot.

“Bones!” Jim exclaims, throwing his arms up and almost spilling his entire drink, “what took you so long?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, stopping your breath as fire spreads across every inch of your skin. You know your face must be glowing red, but you can’t help that, so you focus on keeping your expression calm as you try to remember how to breathe.

Leonard hesitates, his eyes lingering on you before he clears his throat and turns to Jim. “Sorry, medical emergency.”

Jim scoffs, “I can tell when you’re lying. You’re a very bad liar.”

Leonard takes the drink Sulu offers him and clinks it against Jim’s outstretched glass, “well, we can’t all be talented liars,” he glances quickly at you before turning back to the captain. “Happy birthday.”

His words punch you right in the chest, and you’re sure you can feel another piece of your heart break, but you can’t let it show. You tip the rest of your drink to your lips, sculling almost a full glass of champagne while the others take turns greeting Leonard. When you lower your empty glass, the group is standing in awkward silence, each of them watching either you or the doctor to see who will draw their weapon first.

You take a deep breath before meeting his eyes, offering a tight smile, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“Impolite would only be beneath us,” he remarks, before finishing his own drink in one gulp.

“It’s been what? Like, half a year,” you can barely hear your own words over the thrum of your heartbeat.

He considers you for a moment, his gaze tracing up and down your body before he response, “like nothing ever happened between us.”

Once again, your choke on your breath, his words not only hurting you but throwing fuel on the little flame of anger growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Another round?” Sulu asks suddenly, snatching the empty glass from your hand.

Chekov nods enthusiastically, “I will help you.”

As the two of them walk toward the bar, Scotty and Keenser shuffle away and strike up their own conversation, and Nyota mumbles something about Spock before disappearing into the crowd. You’re left with only Jim and Leonard.

“So,” you clear your throat, “how have you been?”

Like he said, impolite would be beneath you, and you can't let him know how much he hurt you. Even though, if he asked, you would tell him anything he wanted to hear because you can’t help the way you still feel about him. The way you know you’ll always feel about him, even if you’ll never know what actually happened between the two of you.

- 6 months & 2 weeks earlier -

Your boots hit the floor with force as you run down the corridor, narrowly dodging startled Enterprise crew until you reached the rear-most turbolift on the ship. Unable to contain your excitement, you continue mashing the button for the MedBay even as the lift descends, only stopping when the doors begin to open. You slip out as soon as the gap is wide enough and continue your run all the way through the MedBay toward Leonard’s office door.

You swipe your card and the door slides open, and you can’t help the way your heart leaps when you first see him. You’re not sure you will ever be used to the way he makes you feel.

“Len,” you exclaim, gasping for breath, “you won’t believe... I got it... the... the thing!”

He leans back in his desk chair, chuckling, “I gave you access to my office for emergencies.”

“This is an emergency,” you say between breaths, holding your chest with one hand while the other hits the button for the door to close.

“Are you going into cardiac arrest? Because you look like you’re going into cardiac arrest.”

You try to regulate your breathing as you give him your most unimpressed stare, “I just ran over half the ship, I’m allowed to be a little out of breath.”

He laughs again, “a little?”

“Would you stop being a smartass and let me speak,” you say as you round his desk and lean against it.

He pushes his chair back to properly look at you, a devilish grin curling his lips, telling you exactly where his mind had gone seeing you atop his desk.

“I had my meeting with the admiral,” you explain, “about the grant.”

His cheeky grin vanishes, replaced by an anticipatory frown as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, “and?”

“They said yes.”

“They said yes?” he echoes, standing from his chair.

“They said yes!” you exclaim, jumping into his open arms and pressing your lips against his. It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does, he kisses you back with fervour.

“You are incredible,” he mumbles against your mouth, “did you know that?”

You pull back giggling, “I know.”

“Did they have any questions?” he asks, “any conditions?”

“Nope, they loved it.”

"They loved you,” he says before kissing you again, muttering against your lips, “I love you.”

You freeze and your eyes snap open, staring up at him as his cheeks turn red. He hesitates before taking a step back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Didn’t mean it?”

“No, I-” he rubs the back of his neck, “I definitely mean it, I just don’t want you to think I expect you to feel the same way.”

You step forward to close the distance between you, “of course I love you,” you stretch onto your toes and press a kiss against his lips, “more than anything.”

His eyes darken and his hands grab your waist as he steps forward. You stumble back until your backside hits the desk, and before you realise what is happening, he lifts you onto it and positions himself between your legs. One hand stays on your waist while the other cups you jaw, “you locked the door?”

Your mind races with filthy thoughts as his thumb traces your bottom lip, and the best response you can must is a soft whisper, “not sure.”

He chuckles, “then we better hope there are no medical emergencies.”

©

You knew exactly how you looked as you leant against the back of the turbolift – your hair a mess, cheeks rosy, and lips swollen – but you didn’t care; you just had mind-blowing sex in your boyfriend's office. You nod politely at the two other lieutenants in the lift as you step out, unable to hold your giggles at their uneasy smiles once you turn down the hall.

Nyota was waiting for you in the mess hall, tucked into a small booth on the edge of the room with her nose almost pressed to her PADD as she scrutinised its content. You slide into the seat opposite her, “hey, sorry I’m late.”

She takes one look at you before smirking, “have fun?”

“Lots,” you reply with a grin.

She shuts off her PADD and slides it aside, “so, how did it go?”

“The sex, or?”

“You know what I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes.

You laugh before replying, “it was amazing, actually; I can’t believe how stressed I was for nothing. They listened to my whole pitch, asked all the questions that I had answers for, and then said yes.”

Although her smile is still wide, she doesn’t quite leap for joy the way you had when you ended your meeting with the admiral. You frown, “what?”

“I’m waiting for the ‘but’.”

“Who said there’s a ‘but’?”

Her smile turns sheepish, “Jim.”

"Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, “I told him to keep it to himself, because I-”

“Told them no?” she interrupts, “and you said you want to stay on the Enterprise despite their generous offer?” Her tone tells you that she already knows what you said, which was, in fact, the exact opposite of what she just said.

One tiny piece of information that you intentionally omitted when you celebrated with Leonard was that in order to win the admiral’s approval for the grant, you might have accidentally accepted a job offer back at the academy. In your defence, it was almost impossible not to say yes. You were asking some of the most senior offices in Starfleet for a huge quantity of additional resources in order to run a twelve-month biomechanical programme aboard the Enterprise. How were you supposed to know they would offer you a position at the academy? And how were you supposed to say no?

By the time you finish telling Nyota about your meeting with the admiral from start to finish the mess hall is much quieter, and you’re surprised at how late it really is when you check your communicator. There is a long, awkward pause while you wait for her to respond, and you begin to feel like a child waiting for their punishment.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Nyota sighs, resting her elbows on the table and holding her head in her hands, “you can’t just say something like that knowing you don’t mean it.”

“I know, I just freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” she echoes disapprovingly.

“Yes!” you snap, “it was awkward. What was I supposed to say?”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t know, maybe ‘I’m flattered, but sorry’.”

“Nyota, seriously.”

“I am serious!” she exclaims, “you can’t just take something like that back.”

You sit back and cross your arms, “yes, I can.”

She mimics your body language, raising her brows, “how?”

“Jim is going to talk to him.”

She scoffs, “oh, great idea. You know everyone already thinks Jim favours you?”

“I know how it’s going to look,” you sigh, “but if it gets me out of this mess, I don’t care what anyone thinks about Jim and me.”

Her scowl softens ever so slightly, “so, you got what you wanted and now you’re just going to back out?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrug, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Your communicator chirps and buzzes on the table, breaking both of you out of the intense staring competition you hadn't realised you were in.

“You better hope so,” Nyota says as she slides out of the booth, “and pray they don’t reconsider the grant.”

You check your communicator as you reply, “it’s going to be fine, Nyota, they’ll understand.” There are no missed calls or alerts, but the time reminds you just how tired and ready for bed you are.

The two of you leave the mess hall, walking together until you come to Nyota’s quarters where she bids you a good night. You continue in the direction of your own residency, flipping open your communicator along the way and calling Leonard. You listen to the dial tone for almost a minute before giving up and deciding to wait until he calls you back. Once inside your quarters, you shed your uniform and jump in the shower, scrubbing the stress of the day off before wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel. You check your communicator to find no missed messages, so you try calling Leonard again. No luck.

After an hour of flicking through data on your PADD, you begin to worry. You try calling a third time before you realise how late it is and your panic spikes, so you slip into your shoes and shuffle out the door. The halls are empty as you make your way down to the MedBay, only to find it just as desolate with a single nightshift nurse idly sorting different bits of equipment.

Two more unanswered calls and another half-hour of walking through the quiet ship has your heart racing anxiously, but its late and there’s no one else you can call without being a nuisance and waking them up. You make your way back to your room, dragging your feet until you’re close enough to fall into your bed face first and let out a few tears before exhaustion takes over.

You barely sleep, spending most of the night half-conscious worrying about Leonard. By the time your alarm goes off, you’re already dressed and slipping into your shoes. You shut it off before rushing out the door in the direction of the MedBay, retracing your steps from last night.

Relief washes over you when you see him standing in the doorway of his office, but a new kind of worry settles like a stone in the pit of your stomach. He’s not hurt or missing, so... was he ignoring you?

“Len,” you call as you walk through the MedBay, “hey.”

The look on his face is far from familiar; his hazel eyes seem darker and the circles beneath them are a deep purple, “mornin’.”

“Where have you been?” you ask, unable to mask the worry in your voice, “I was looking for you last night. I called a few times, but you never answered, I was so worried.”

He keeps his eyes on his PADD as he turns and walks further into his office, “sorry, medical emergency.”

You follow him in, trying not to choke on the panic rising in your throat, “oh, I didn’t hear about anything. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he mumbles, “just busy.” He refuses to look up at you, keeping his eyes trained on the device in his hands and moving as if you’re both the south ends of two opposing magnets.

“Okay,” you say, your voice even weaker than before, “well, I spoke to Jim yesterday and he said we should break out the scotch tonight. You know, have a little celebration?”

“Can’t, I’m on call.”

"You could still come and hang out,” you force a smile onto your lips, “come on, don’t make me admit that I miss you.”

He only scoffs, his attention unmoving from his PADD.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “are you sure you’re alright?”

He sighs and finally looks up, his brows knit tight and something akin to resentment behind his glare, “Jim told me.”

“Told you what?”

“About the job offer.”

The stone in your stomach grows three sizes, sending a wave of nausea through your whole body and you have to lean against the wall to steady yourself. “He wasn’t supposed to,” you mutter, “he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone because I’m not taking it.”

“I think you should.”

His words feel like a knife being plunged into your chest, knocking you breathless and turning your voice into a whisper, “what?”

“I think you should take the job,” he says.

You blink back your tears, “why?”

“It sounds like a great opportunity, and you’re young, so you should take it.”

If it weren’t for your shoulder leaning against the wall, you could almost be sure the room itself is starting to spin. You can feel your heartbeat in every inch of your skin, heat spreading like wildfire through your whole body as your heart begins to tear itself in two.

“Just so I’m clear,” your words are soft and unsteady, “you want me to take the job and leave the Enterprise?”

He nods once, opening his mouth to reply but hesitates, as if suddenly deciding not to say whatever was on the tip of his tongue. Only then do you realise that tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay, fine,” you say, wiping your face with the back of your hand, “I’ll take the job, and since you can’t seem to stand the sight of me, I’ll start in three weeks instead of six.”

You can barely see his face through the blur of tears, so you turn sharply toward the door and storm out, trying your best to keep your sobs muffled as you move through the ship and back to your room.

-

Those three weeks were the closest thing to hell that you’ve ever known. At first you were devastated, locking yourself in your room for four days straight, refusing to talk to anyone and living off half a meal a day. Everyone was worried but knew you needed space, especially after they heard you accepted the job at the academy. After the fourth day of wallowing, you got angry. You finally showered, dressed, and ate a full meal before deciding you would demand Leonard to tell you what the fuck you did wrong.

Jim said he could hear that first ‘conversation’ between you and the doctor all the way from the bridge... you were in the MedBay. You’re not sure you’ve ever yelled at someone so much, let alone someone you love, but it was like that for the rest of your time on the Enterprise. You couldn’t be amicable with one another, no matter how hard you tried.

“Y/N,” Jim nudges you with his elbow, “do you remember that?”

You blink away your daydream to find four sets of eyes on you and one pair intentionally avoiding you, “remember what?”

“When you weren’t wearing underwear and we-”

“Jim!” you smack his arm, “I thought you promised not to bring that up ever again.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder, chuckling, “I’m sorry but I have a duty to never let that story die, it has to be one of the best days of my life.”

You roll your eyes but still join in the laughter of the captain, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty. You’re almost positive you see Leonard’s lip twitch, but he quickly lifts his glass and takes a huge gulp of beer. Once the laughter subsides, Jim squeezes you closer and sighs, “you know, it’s just not the same without you on the ship. I actually miss you, like, a lot.”

You gasp dramatically, “did James Tiberius Kirk just admit to feeling something?”

“I’m serious,” he says, “don’t you miss me?” His blue eyes are wide and pleading, tugging at your heartstrings.

“Of course I miss you,” you quickly look around your circle of friends, “I miss everyone. It wasn’t easy to leave, but I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“Aw,” Jim coos, “do you mean it? You really miss me?”

You roll your eyes again despite the smile on your face, “yes, I really mean it.”

Leonard scoffs, “are you sure about that?”

You can feel the energy shift, everyone suddenly tense as you finally look up at him, “about what?”

“That you mean it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, pulling away from under Jim’s arm.

Leonard shrugs, “sometimes people say things they don’t mean.”

“I guess,” you frown, “but why would I lie?”

“You tell me,” he replies, his expression unreadable as he takes another sip of beer.

You hesitate for a moment, the tension tangible as you scramble for words. “I’m confused,” you finally say, “Did I do something in the last twenty seconds to piss you off?”

He chuckles bitterly, “you know what? Don’t worry about it.”

The angry flame in your belly bursts into a bonfire, heating you from the inside and bordering your vision with red. “No,” you step forward ever so slightly, “you can’t just call me a liar and then tell me not to worry about it. What did I do?”

“Nothing, just forget about it. I’ll see you around,” he says, moving as if he intends to walk away.

“No!” you snap, taking another step toward him, “I won’t ‘forget about it’ either. This is not what I came here for, but if you have something to say, then say it. Or better yet, if you have something to feel, then feel it and stop pretending to be so fucking indifferent.”

He frowns, his hazel eyes full of an emotion you can’t seem to place. “Would you stop?” he murmurs, “you’re making a scene.”

Jim mumbles sarcastically behind you, “oh, how I miss the war.”

You ignore him, your glare locked on Leonard, “I’m making a scene? You’re the one that started it, but- oh wait,” you pause for dramatic effect, “that’s right; you can’t finish anything you start.”

The blow lands, because you can see the vein in his neck pulse even faster. Neither of you like to play too dirty, most of your ‘fights’ are just petty arguments, but every now and then a carefully crafted comment will remind each of you that if you wanted to, you could really hurt one another. You know Leonard isn’t proud of his divorce, and you know that bringing it up in any negative context can really get to him.

“Maybe you’re right,” his says in a low voice, “but at least I have the decency to walk away before I make a mess.”

It takes all of your self-control not to speak any louder than he did, “oh, you want to talk about making a mess?”

“No, because I’m going to leave before I say something I don’t mean.”

He turns and walks away before you can fully process what just happened. You can feel the red-hot colour of your cheeks as blood pumps through your veins twice as fast as normal, both from anger and embarrassment. Luckily, not many others noticed your little spat, and your friends had to deal with so much of that during your final weeks on the Enterprise that they’re not even phased.

You turn to Jim, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, once again wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “on the scale of Y/N versus Bones, that was like a four.”

You can’t help but giggle as he guides you toward the bar.

“It would have been a three,” you continue, “but I’ll award an extra point for the jab at his divorce.”

“Jim!” you scold, nudging his rib with your elbow.

He laughs again, louder, “what? If I have to deal with my two favourite people at war, then I’m going to make a game of it.”

You spend the rest of the night right beside Jim, trying to ignore the guilt growing bigger and uglier inside your stomach. Leonard doesn’t leave until a few hours later, having been caught by a group of his MedBay buddies who insist on fetching him drinks, and you can’t help from keeping him within your sight. You’re jealous of every single person who gets even a second of his attention or a smile directed their way, and when one of the cute young nurses leans in a little too close to him, you feel your drinks bubbling up your throat.

You decide to say goodbye mere minutes after you see the doctor walk out the door, leaving Jim to his merriment with the rest of the crew who are more than a little inebriated, though he doesn’t let you walk away until you pinkie-promise to join your friends at breakfast in the morning. That should be fun.

The walk back to your hotel feels longer than it did on the way to the party. Your feet are sore and heavy, and your stomach feels like its full of toxic waste that isn’t going to stay there for long. You didn’t even drink that much, you just can’t help feeling sick over your argument with Leonard and the way that nurse touched his arm.

You kick your shoes off the second you step into your room and wriggle out of your dress, throwing it on the floor along with everything else you can remove from your body before falling on the bed. Just as you’ve done for the past five months, you begin to play back every interaction you’ve had with Leonard since he told you to take the job at the academy, starting with the newest addition to the library from this evening. The first time you did this was the first night you spent at your cramped apartment on the academy’s campus; you thought if you dissected enough of the interaction, you might be able to figure out what went wrong. After a while you realised it had become a sort of comfort, simply remembering that Leonard did still exist and he is still out there. You often wonder if he thinks of you just as much, but you try not to feed the hope that still burns at the back of your chest, which is exactly why you’re only allowed to remember the fights and arguments. If you let your mind wander further back than that, you might not ever return to reality.

A chirp from your communicator wakes you, so you rub your eyes until you can read the cheeky message from Jim reminding you about your breakfast plans. You groan loudly as you throw the comforter back and quite literally roll out of bed. You’re not ready for another battle, but you do have unfinished business with Jim relating to your status of employment aboard the Enterprise, or lack thereof.

You hadn’t mentioned it last night because of, well, obvious reasons, but there is another factor contributing to your decision whether or not to forfeit your post as a part of Jim’s crew. Before you left, as if your boss knew this trip would tempt you to return to your friends, the academy offered you another position co-leading a brand-new programme for aspiring mechatronic engineers. It’s not necessarily your strength, but it sounds incredible, and to be amongst some of the most intelligent people in Starfleet would be nothing short of inspiring, but that meant giving up the Enterprise (and her crew) for good.

You quickly shower and change into comfortable clothes before packing most of your belongings into your duffel bag. You do have another night booked, but you’re not sure you’ll want to stay on Yorktown much longer if this morning doesn’t go well.

Unsurprisingly, Jim decided to have breakfast at the Starfleet base where most of the crew would be staying during their time on the starbase. It was just the same as the mess hall on the ship or at the academy, just a little newer with better food because most people passing through Yorktown were high-ranking or dignitaries from the Federation, and apparently, Jim Kirk was also one of those important people. The Enterprise crew were given a private buffet on the mezzanine level of the huge eating area, where two long tables were laid out with all the breakfast food you could imagine.

“I think we might have to warn Starfleet about giving the captain a big head,” Nyota says, falling into step beside you, “or soon there won’t be room for anyone else on the bridge.”

You giggle, “but if there’s no one else on the bridge, who’s going to compliment his luscious hair and his humble courage?”

She laughs too and even Spock cracks a tiny smile beside her.

“Hey Spock.”

“It is nice to see you again, Y/N,” he responds with a nod, “I regret not being able to spend more time with you last night.”

You wave your hand dismissively and continue toward the tables of food. Sulu soon joins the three of you and you chat idly while loading up plates full of food. Jim is standing at the back of the room, leaning against the wall with a coffee in one hand and using the other to animate whatever intriguing conversation he and Scotty were having. You try not to acknowledge Leonard as you approach them.

“Hey,” Nyota whispers, “we don’t have to join them.”

You shake your head, “I’m calm, I’m sure of it.”

She can’t help but snicker quietly at the comically wide smile you force across your face as you reach your group of friends.

“Good morning gorgeous,” Jim greets you as you join them, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m surprised you’re here,” you say.

He rolls his eyes, “please, I have a liver of steel.”

You can’t hold back your laughter, “is that what that was on New Year’s Eve? It was your liver of steel that made you fall off the toilet and page Len because you couldn’t feel your left butt cheek?”

You laugh a little harder as you vividly recall the state Jim had been in that night, but the laughter from the rest of the group is soft and awkward, and only then do you realise what you said. Len. Only you called him that.

Jim clears his throat before it gets too uncomfortable, “uh, anyway, have you thought about your decision?”

“Oh,” you quickly swallow the piece of pancake you put in your mouth, “right into it, then.”

He shrugs sheepishly, “I kind of have to have an answer once I’m back on duty.”

“Well,” you sigh, “then I have to tell you about something else.” You steal a glance at Leonard, noticing his cheeks a darker shade of pink than usual and you wonder if it’s because of your slip up.

You explain the offer from your boss and the programme you’d be running to the group in front of you, trying to keep your voice neutral. You don’t want to seem too resentful of the tiny apartment and dark office you currently have, but you definitely don’t want any of them to think you’re more interested in the academy’s new initiative than returning to the Enterprise.

To everyone’s surprise, Leonard is the first to speak, “it’s a good programme, I’ve heard of it.”

“You’d leave for good?” Nyota asks, “give up your position on the Enterprise?”

“And surrender from the battle,” Jim chuckles, glancing between you and Leonard with a smirk. Nyota and Spock both give him their most disapproving parent stares, and his grin disappears, “sorry, not the time.”

“Well, I was kind of hoping my friends would help me decide,” you say, looking to each of them except Leonard.

“But you know what we’re going to say,” Nyota shrugs, “we want you to come back to the Enterprise.”

“I know, but,” you look pointedly at Scotty, “you can also understand that this is a huge opportunity. I just need some advice.” You know that above the rest, Scotty is the biggest advocate for your career, and you knew he would be the most excited about the programme at the academy.

“You’re right, lassie,” he sighs, “and I’d like to say I’ve missed you the most – it’s been hell down there with just Keenser – but I could never tell you not to take this offer. You’re young, and they’ve noticed you. If you go for this now, you’ll have endless opportunities at Starfleet.”

“But you also have endless opportunities on the Enterprise,” Jim argues. “The resources for your programme only just came in and we’re in the early stages of setting it up; you could take over and lead it. It is your baby.

Your pulse quickens with excitement at the idea of running your programme, but it’s been months since you had anything to do with it. “I’d feel bad taking it over from someone else,” you say, “I couldn’t do that.”

He shakes his head, “no one has been appointed to lead it yet.”

Sulu clears his throat, “well, Captain, we do have Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy who could lead the programme aboard the Enterprise, and the offer Y/N has is huge. There are thousands in Starfleet who would kill for this opportunity. I miss her as much as anyone else, but she could assist remotely if we need her.”

Jim frowns at his lieutenant for not picking the same side of the argument.

“You’re right, Sulu,” you smile at him before countering Jim’s scowl, “Scotty and Dr. McCoy can run it. They’re the brains behind the whole thing anyway. All I did was pitch it, so really, my job is done.”

“Your job is not done,” Nyota butts in, “you have no idea how hard the last few months have been without you.”

“That’s because I haven’t been replaced, the crew is down a man.”

“You’re not replaceable,” Jim states, his brows even closer than before, “no one could-”

“I’ll stop you right there, Captain,” you interrupt, “because there are plenty of incredible people in Starfleet who could do more than simply fill my shoes.”

Jim huffs, failing to find another counter argument.

“If I may, Y/N,” Spock says, taking half a step forward, “but you are seeking advice to assist in making the decision, are you not? Though you argue only with those who advise you to return to the Enterprise, which would suggest that you have already made this decision. Unless you are simply waiting for a better reason to return, or perhaps, for the right person to ask you to,” he pauses and turns to Leonard, “Dr. McCoy?”

The air is suddenly thick with tension, everyone gaping at Spock and wondering if they might have imagined what they just heard.

“Fire in the hole,” Jim murmurs into his cup as he takes a swig of coffee.

Leonard clears his throat, “I don’t particularly care what Y/N does, so I don’t think my opinion should matter.”

Jim coughs, almost choking on his drink, “and take cover.” He pats his chest and turns to Spock, “have I introduced you to our newest cadet in the archaeological research division? He’s amazing. Nyota, Scotty, you too.”

Without so much as a hint of subtlety, everyone disperses, leaving you and Leonard alone in the corner of the huge room.

Somehow, you find enough courage to turn to him and ask, “why did you tell me to leave?”

“I’ve answered this question a hundred times,” he sighs, “it was a great job opportunity. You would have been stupid not to take it.”

“No, this time I want the truth.”

He rolls his eyes, “why do you repeatedly insist on having this conversation, knowing exactly how it's going to end?”

You can only just hear him over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears; rage and anticipation coursing through you as you stand between the doctor and the rest of the Enterprise crew. You’ve already embarrassed yourself last night, you might as well give it one last go before you make your decision.

“Because I want the real answer,” you reply, keeping your voice even, “so we’re going to keep having it until you tell me the truth.”

“Okay, you want my advice?” he says, “take the job and give up your position on the Enterprise so that I can be rid of you and this conversation for good.”

Once again, his words knock the breath from your lungs. You can almost feel the new fractures splitting your heart into even smaller pieces, but the pain moves to the back of your mind as you realise that he did just admit something that he hasn’t before.

“So…” you whisper, searching frantically for your voice, “it was about getting rid of me, not about the job.”

An array of emotions you can’t even attempt to read cross his face in less than a second before he settles on a frown, “look, I don’t have to explain myself to you. If anything, you owe me.”

“I owe you what?”

“An explanation.”

You frown too, “what for?”

“For what you said before you left!” he snaps.

You can practically feel the sets of eyes on your back multiply, more bystanders finding interest in the exchange happening at the back of the room.

“Len, we were at each other’s throats before I left,” you say, lowering your voice, “I’m sure we both said things we didn’t mean.”

You try for a second to remember something deep and personal he’d said to you in your final weeks on the ship, but nothing comes to mind. In fact, all you can remember is petty fighting and childish arguments. It was almost as if neither of you truly wanted to hurt the other, or at least, not acutely. You never brought up the deepest and darkest pieces of pain from each other’s history, knowing it would irreversibly damage the relationship between you. The closest you’ve gotten was last night when you hinted at his divorce, saying he couldn’t finish anything he started, and even then, you felt awful.

“Not that,” he mutters, "what you said after your meeting with the admiral.”

You frown again, “that I got the grant?”

“After that.”

You have to think for a minute, playing back that day in your head as you’ve done a thousand times. Only this time, you allow yourself to remember all of it, without blocking out the parts that made your heart hurt. You gasp quietly when you realise, slowly looking up at him, “y-you’re angry because I said I loved you?”

His expression is the softest you’ve seen it in months, his hazel eyes almost green behind the sadness filling them, “I’m not angry that you said it, I’m angry because you lied.”

Tears begin to blur your vision, but you refuse to let them fall, “why would I lie about that?”

“Don’t bother, alright?” he says before clearing his raspy throat, “I heard you talking to Nyota.”

“When?”

“When you went to meet her, after we- you know, in my office,” his cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.

You shake your head, as if it should help clear your thoughts, “I’m confused.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he snaps again, though this time with a little less bite.

“Well clearly, I have no idea what is going on!” You don’t care who’s watching anymore, this is the closest you’ve ever been to actually finding out what happened.

He sighs, “You called me, by accident I guess, and I heard you. You told her that you only said it because it was awkward, that you were going to take it back because you got what you wanted, and that Jim-”

“I’ll get Jim to talk to him,” you cut him off, realisation smacking you across the face. You feel dizzy as everything hits you at once and a montage of memories rush through your head. The pieces of the puzzle you’d been trying to solve for months finally fall into place, and you finally know why Leonard broke your heart that day.

“Exactly,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You’ve spent months wondering whether it was because of the job offer itself, or because you got the grant on his behalf, but Leonard wasn’t the type to be jealous of his friends. You wondered if he simply wasn’t ready for a new relationship, or if you’d scared him when you told him you loved him, but he said it first. You even wondered, very briefly, if he’d heard some stupid rumour about you and Jim, since you knew there were some of those around, but you’d spoken about it before, even laughed about it. You never considered that the whole thing could have been one, big, stupid misunderstanding.

Leonard frowns, “You can’t seriously tell me that you had no idea what happened until now.”

“Len, I-”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I really don’t want to-”

“Leonard, please,” you sigh “would you just give me five seconds.”

“You’ve had five months,” he exclaims, “and you still can’t admit it to my face?”

“Because you’re wrong,” you snap.

His frown disappears, “I’m what?”

“You don’t know what you think you know,” you say, clasping your hands over your stomach as another wave of nausea hits you.

"I heard you say it.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves coursing through your veins like an electric current. “Yes,” you begin, “I said those things, but not about you. I-It was about the job, I… when I was in the meeting with the admiral, he offered me the job before he approved the grant, and I said yes... but I didn’t mean it. It was awkward and I needed him to say yes, so I accepted, but I never wanted the job. I didn’t want to leave the Enterprise; I didn’t want to leave you. I was in love with you. Jim was going to speak to the admiral for me, say that he couldn’t let me go, the ship needed me, and I had to run the programme, but then... well, you told me to go, so I-”

“Left,” he finishes for you, his eyes glassy as his mind wanders back to that night.

Your heart is thundering so loud you can’t even hear the commotion of the people behind you over the thrum of your pulse. Neither of you dare to speak, you don’t even know what to say. Six whole months of pain and anger, all because of a misunderstanding. If Leonard had asked you about the conversation he overhead, or if you asked him what was wrong instead of just leaving... you could have avoided the worst six months of your life. You feel stupid.

“You must hate me,” he finally says, every bit of anger gone from his voice, “I’m so sorry.”

Before you can respond, he steps to the side and strides right past you. He passes easily through the groups of people enjoying their breakfast, down the stairs, and out of the building.

-

“Ye’re barely off the ground for six months and ye already forget how ta solder straight,” Scotty shouts from the deck below.

You put down your tools and take two steps to lean over the railing and glare down at him, “for your information, I was never very good at soldering.”

He chuckles and waves a hand, returning his attention to the open machinery in front of him, ready to remedy your errors from attempting to fix it earlier. In your defence, you weren’t usually on the tools, but you wanted to be able to join in on the practical portion of the new programme when the time came, so you agreed to a month down in the warp core with Scotty to brush up on your skills. It’s been almost a week without incident, which you considered to be a personal record. Though you’re fairly sure it has nothing to do with your skills and everything to do with not wanting to end up in the MedBay.

Jim’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago, and you still haven’t spoken to Leonard since that morning. After he left, you went straight to Jim and told him you’d be back aboard the Enterprise effective immediately. You quit your job at the academy – luckily you were still within the probationary period – and had all of your belongings packed and shipped to the next Federation planet that the Enterprise is due at. You’ll be picking them up in a few days, but you honestly wouldn’t be too worried if they never showed up. You’re just happy to be home; it’s as if you never left. That is, except for Leonard.

You know you have to give him space, and obviously he wants nothing to do with you right now, so you can’t force yourself upon him even if you’d settle for just friends at this point. Your heart aches in a whole new way whenever you hear his name, but you haven’t yet run into him, and you’re not sure what will happen when you do.

“Shit,” you hiss, quickly pulling away from where you’re working to watch blood drip from your hand, “of course.”

“I told Scotty that it wasn’t a good idea putting a pretty girl like you down here,” Jim says as he wanders in from the corridor.

You scowl at him, “I’ll ignore the misogyny because I’m in pain. Can you get me the first aid kit?”

He chuckles, “I don’t think a bandage is going to cut it; you need stitches.”

“I do not,” you argue, despite the blood creating a small puddle at your feet.

“Yes, you do,” he insists, “and as a bonus, you can give Bones a heart attack.”

You take a clean rag and wrap it around your hand, allowing Jim to help as you ask him, “why would I give him a heart attack?”

He shrugs, “I’m not sure he knows you’re back aboard the ship.”

“Excuse me?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since Yorktown,” he clarifies, “I made sure he was okay after breakfast, but I didn’t tell him that you’d decided to return to the Enterprise. It didn’t seem like the time.”

You’re almost positive if looks could kill, Jim would dead on the floor right now. “But he’s the Chief Medical Officer,” you stress, “he has to know everyone aboard the ship.”

“Yes,” Jim says, “and no, there are a lot of crew members.”

“He would have had to sign me back on!”

Jim can’t help but laugh again at the way your voice cracks. “He’s been sick,” he states, “since we boarded. Doctor Gronan has been standing in for him until yesterday.”

“Doctor Gronan signed me back on,” you mutter to yourself.

“Yep.”

“Then why wouldn’t you tell him?” you exclaim.

Your captain laughs once again, shrugging as he replies, “I thought it would be fun to see how long it took him to find out.”

“This isn’t a game!”

“But it is fun.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“After you get stitched up, come on,” he sighs, guiding you toward the corridor by your shoulders, “I assume you know the way?”

“I’m familiar,” you reply, dragging your feet into the bright white hallway.

“Excellent, no detours, but first, where’s Scotty?”

“Deck below,” you mumble.

“Thank you,” he gives you a cheeky wink, “now, on your way.”

Your pulse quickens with every step you take toward the MedBay, which you’re pretty sure is why the rag you’re holding begins to soak with blood. Other crew members watch you hurry through the ship with concern, and by the time you reach the MedBay, you’re trailing little red droplets across the floor. The moment Leonard looks up from his PADD, he goes paper white and his eyes practically double in size. Despite being obviously unsettled, he looks good; you could never get sick of seeing him in his uniform.

“Hey,” you say, stepping closer to him in order to deter bystanders from eavesdropping.

He swallows thickly, “hi.”

Another beat of silence passes because you hold up your injured hand, “um, I’m bleeding.”

“Shit, sorry,” he finally notices the bloody rag, “come with me.”

You follow him into one of the treatment rooms and sit on the bed, legs swinging over the side as he pulls the stool and cart over to you.

“Sorry,” he says again as he arranges the equipment on the cart, “I- um, I didn’t know you were back.”

“I know, Jim thought it would be funny.”

He looks up suddenly, that familiar frown knitting his brows.

“I didn’t know,” you clarify, “I assumed you had signed me aboard and were just avoiding me.”

His frown softens and he opens his mouth to reply but hesitates, instead returning his attention to the bloody rag wrapped around your hand. He nods for you to show him, so you extend your arm and allow him to remove the make-shift bandage. You try not to wince when the material pulls on a dried bit of blood, but you can’t help your hand from twitching. Leonard’s own hand cups yours out of instinct; a comforting gesture that wouldn’t mean a thing to you from any other doctor but means everything from Leonard. He looks up at you, as if asking permission to continue touching you, waiting for you to nod before he starts cleaning the cut.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” he mutters.

Ironic... you think, though choose not to say it aloud. You nod again, “okay.”

Another few minutes pass as he finishes cleaning the cut, numbs your skin, and prepares to stitch it closed. He holds the dermal regenerator a few inches from your hand and it begins to whir softly, shooting out a blue beam that sews the skin back together. You let your eyes wander from the healing cut to where the doctor is touching you, his warm skin beneath the glove making yours tingle all the way up your arm and into your chest, waking up the butterflies that live in your rib cage. Their fluttering wings make it hard to breathe, and that familiar sense of anticipation and giddiness takes over any feelings of contempt or anger.

The regenerator stops and he looks up to meet your gaze, his pupils doubling their size, “all done.”

You flex your hand, “feels brand new.”

 “Give it a minute,” he says, “keep stretching, and I’ll check it over before you go.”

You watch him pack away the cart and dispose of all the bloody gauze. His hands work fluidly, not once hesitating as his muscle memory tells them where to put each tool or piece of equipment. He pulls his gloves off and for some stupid reason your heart leaps; heat flushes through your whole body, concentrating in a tight ball just below your belly as your mind replays all the things those hands have done to you.

“Let me have a look.”

You willingly put your hand back in his, praying your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. He presses gently around the faint line where your cut had been, glancing up with each new area he pushes on to see if you wince or react at all.

“Looks good,” he lets go of you hand and rolls back on the stool, “you can go back to work, just don’t lift anything heavy and please wear gloves.”

You try to fight the sheepish grin tugging at your lips, “yes, sir.”

His cheeks flush pink and you can’t help being a little proud. He stands up, avoiding your gaze as he picks up his PADD to check off a few more things, no doubt clearing you to return to work. You slide off the bed and straighten your uniform, trying to think of something else to say so you don’t have to leave. Should you make up an illness, or is that too desperate? This is the most amicable interaction you’ve had in months; you don’t want it to end.

“I jus’ want to say,” he clears his throat, “I am really-”

“I know,” you interrupt, “and it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.”

He frowns, “you’re not angry?”

You sigh and lean back against the bed, “well, I thought about it, at first, but then realised that I gave up on us just as quickly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me to leave, and I left,” you reply, “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t argue, I didn’t fight it, I just left.”

His frown doesn’t move, only his eyes, raking up and down your body twice before settling on your lips and turning that warmth below your belly into a full-blown bonfire.

“Besides,” you continue, your nerves forcing you to fill the silence, “if I honestly believed I'd heard my boyfriend tell someone that he regretted saying he loved me, I’d probably react the same way... or worse.”

He cracks a small smile and your heart races as if you’d just run five miles, but the light-heartedness on his face disappears just as quickly as it had come. “Ex-boyfriend,” he says.

You frown, “what?”

“You said boyfriend, you meant ‘ex-boyfriend’.”

“Oh,” you nod slowly, “well, actually, I don’t think I remember breaking up.”

He actually laughs, only a short chuckle, but it’s the best thing you’ve heard in months.

“I’m serious!” you insist, laughing despite your words, “neither of us actually said the words.”

His smile fades, and he looks back down at his PADD before you can figure out the new expression on his face, “regardless of words being said, I’m sure other things happened that-”

You cut him off, “what ‘other’ things?”

“I’m not naive,” he chuckles bitterly, “I’m sure there were plenty of Starfleet’s finest that were more than eager to meet the gorgeous new engineer.”

“Oh,” you know your cheeks are now glowing red, “thanks, I think, but- uh, no, I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

He looks up again, a mixture of confusion and something else you can’t quite place written across his face. Panic clouds your thoughts as you wonder whether he has slept with anyone in the time you were away. You hadn’t even considered it, hadn’t tortured yourself with that possibility because deep down he was still yours, it was almost as if a part of you knew it wasn’t over.

“Why not?” he asks.

You shrug, “too heartbroken.”

He drops his PADD on the nearest tabletop, sighing, “you have no idea how sorry I am.”

“Len, I told you-”

“Let me apologise,” he demands, stepping forward until his chest is an inch from your nose, “I need to apologise, because I don’t think I will ever stop hating myself for losing my one reason for existing.”

You gasp and then quickly forget how to breathe, holding the air in your lungs as if the slightest movement would wake you up from whatever wild dream you’d fallen into. You stare up at him, unblinking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, hooking a finger beneath your chin.

You still can’t breathe, and your head starts to spin as he slowly closes the distance between your mouths.

“If you want me to stop,” he murmurs, his lips practically brushing yours, “just tell-”

“Shut up,” you mutter, before pushing up onto your toes and pressing your mouth against his.

His hands find your waist and your bodies snap together, like two magnets alone in their own field void of any other gravitational pull. His lips taste the same, his tongue moves exactly the way you know, and he feels like home.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, your mouths barely parting before his lips catch your breath again.

You step back until your bum bumps into the bed, and with the slightest effort, he lifts you onto it. His hands spread your knees, allowing him to nestle between them as his touch makes its way up your body to your neck, the heat of his skin on yours pulling the knot below your belly even tighter. You slide forward ever-so-slightly, unable to stop yourself from grinning when you feel the hardness of him rub between your legs.

He groans and tightens a hand around the front of your neck, “careful, darlin’.”

Your grin grows wider, “I missed you.”

He pulls back and his hands return to your waist. His skin is flushed and his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen and red, and you’re almost convinced you’ve died and gone to heaven. “I missed you too,” he says, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips.

“Do you two know there are cameras in here?” Jim asks, appearing at the door and startling both of you, “or do you just have some kinky preference for being watched?” His smirk stretches from one ear to the other, and he attempts to appear casual by leaning against the door frame but his bright eyes are sparkling with mischief.

“Do you watch all the surveillance footage, or do you just have some kinky preference for the MedBay?” you retort, your fingers curling into the fabric of Leonard’s shirt to keep him in place.

He doesn’t even try to turn around for obvious reasons in his pants, but throws an irritated scowl over his shoulder, “really, Jim?”

Jim chuckles, “what’s the matter, Bones?”

“You,” Leonard snaps, “you’re the matter!”

“Why can’t you turn around?” he asks, his voice laced with evil intent.

You reach for the small pillow at the top of the bed and lob it across the room at him, “would you fuck off?”

He laughs again, “no need to be so rude, I just wanted to see my two best friends!”

Leonard rolls his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening, “you’re about to see a lot more than you’ve bargained for if you don’t fuck off.”

Your stomach flips and a warm, tingly sense of anticipation spreads throughout your whole body.

“Fine,” Jim sighs, pushing off the door frame and taking a step back, “I’ll just watch the cameras.”

“Get out!” Leonard exclaims, turning around as Jim cackles and hurries away.

Leonard presses the button for the door to slide shut and another button to lock it.

“You don’t think he’s really going to watch the cameras, right?” you ask.

He returns to the space between your legs, splaying his hands across your thighs where your dress has ridden up, “probably.” His hands slide up under your dress and you instinctively straighten your spine, tilting your head back in a desperate attempt to get your mouth closer to his.

He stays just out of reach, his breath hot on your lips as he speaks, “so you better be a good girl and put on a show.”

END.