#and I ended up driving down a road blocked off by the secret service and they were abt to shoot me

[kittlyns]

Literally got no sleep at all last night between the period cramps and some of the worst heartburn I've ever had in my life so literally first thing in the morning I got up and went and bought my first bottle of tums

[krreader]

BTS reacting to a sasaeng trying to touch/take photos of your baby bump.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: mentions of physical assault genre: angst ; fluff word count: 2.5k+

a/n: I hope the reality would be the boys yeeting these sasaengs into another universe, seriously. but for the sake of the story, here. thanks for the request @sakuroseuchiha​, and I’m very sorry it took forever ♥

kim seokjin

“What is this?” Jin entered the bedroom and practically pushed the phone in your face, his breathing heavy and his cheeks flushed, clearly upset.

You looked at what he was showing you, but then quickly averted your gaze and continued folding the laundry as if what he was showing you didn’t matter.

“(Y/N)!” he rarely got angry, not like this. And you knew that he wasn't angry with you.. maybe only for not telling him about what had happened today. He grabbed your upper arm and turned you so that you had to look at him, “Why didn't you tell me about this?”

“I didn't want you to get angry.. like now,” you sighed deeply, “I wasn't hurt, I walked into the nearest store and they didn't follow me inside because the shop owners were kind enough to help me and keep them out. All they got was a blurry photo.”

Your husband's mouth dropped, his eyebrows furrowing, “How can you be so nonchalant about this?”

You snorted, “What do you want me to do, Seokjin? Do you want me to sob my eyes out because some sixteen year old girls wanted to become Twitter famous by posting our unborn child on their Twitter account? If I were that weak, then marrying you wouldn't have been a good idea in the first place,” you pushed his hand away, “I'm fine.”

Maybe, but he wasn't. He was so tired of this bullshit.

And you only found out just how tired he was when you wanted to go grocery shopping the next day and were face-to-face with a man that introduced himself as your new bodyguard that your husband had hired to make sure that situations like those wouldn't happen anymore.

You had meant what you had said, you were fine, but knowing that someone that size was following you around and making sure that no harm would come to you and – even more importantly – to your unborn child – made you feel a lot more at ease.

min yoongi

Yoongi cursed and thanked BigHit at the same time for existing.

On one hand, he hated himself for ever having signed up with them, because now you and his unborn child were in danger because of him, but at the same time, he was so grateful that they tried their best in protecting the three of you to the best of their abilities.

One of the staff members had managed to gain access to a secret forum used only by sasaengs, where they shared private information about idols that nobody but these idols, their families and the company should know about.

And during this 'undercover work', she discovered a thread dedicated to you and Yoongi, or more specifically, your unborn child.

She found out that they had found out where you had planned to have your delivery and wanted to be there to take pictures of the two – or in the end – three of you.

You and Yoongi would have had no idea about this. You would have had no other choice but to endure it and later see these very private photos online, but thanks to her, you were able to switch hospitals last minute and were able to handle this matter privately.

That female staff member said she was merely doing her job when you and Yoongi thanked her later, but your husband made sure that she didn't just get a raise, but a promotion on top of it.

You both owed her a lot.

jung hoseok

“Look, daddy!” Hoseok beamed happily as he watched his son point upwards to the head of the giraffe, “Soooooo biggy!”

“If you want to be that big, you need to eat all the vegetables that mommy puts on your plate from now on, okay?” he tickled the little boy a little, engulfed by his beautiful laughter, that he didn't realize what was happening behind him.

You were standing a few feet behind them, wanting them to enjoy a father-son moment, while also watching the buggy. However, unlike your husband, you weren't smiling. Your eyes were focused on three girls to your right who had been following you for the past fifteen minutes and were now debating on whether or not to go up to your husband and say something.

And you really didn't mind if they said hello when it was only Hoseok, but your child was with you and you didn't want to involve him in that life. Not yet, not if you could avoid it.

However, you had been wrong all along. You thought that they were whispering among themselves to figure out a strategy on when to go up to Hoseok. 

But that wasn't the case.

They were waiting until they were sure that he was busy enough with your son not to notice what they were doing.

Which was pull out their phones, all three of them, and then point the camera at you.

Even though you knew it wasn't actually you, but the baby bump that had begun to form. A story that had only been rumors up until now, but you were too far along now to hide it any longer.

The moment you realized what was happening, you pushed the buggy forward until you were at your husband's side and said: “We need to go. Right now.”

With how alert you were, he instantly became too, started looking around and realized what was happening.

He put his son in the baggy, then took off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders, before he pushed the baggy with one hand and you gently forward with his hand on your lower back.

So much for keeping the secret about baby number two a little longer.

kim namjoon

Namjoon had been an idol for long enough to know when someone was obviously staring at him out in public.

And you had been with him for long enough to know when he was uncomfortable. He constantly shifted in his seat, glanced around and nervously bounced his leg up and down.

Eventually you reached over the table and put your hand over this, “Come on. Let's ask them if they can fill our drinks in take-away cups and go home.”

You had wanted to enjoy the possible last peaceful coffee shop date that you could have before your daughter would be born, but when married to Kim Namjoon, a peaceful date outside was almost never an option. And normally, when it had been only him and you, he hadn't minded as much. But now he was scared for his child.

And as soon as the two of you got up, his biggest fear became reality, when a girl walked by and spilled her – thankfully – cold coffee on you. More specifically, on your baby bump. Accidentally, as she tried to make you two believe, but you knew better.

Even more so when she started bowing, apologized and then immediately wanted to rub over your baby bump with tissues to clean your clothes.

Namjoon was alert in an instant, but you were faster and grabbed the wrist of the girl, smiling at her, but your eyes were so dangerous that the girl gulped down.

“Thank you, but I'll do that myself.”

“I..- I only..-”

“I said I can do it myself,” you grabbed your bag and then Namjoon's hand, “Let's just go home.”

Sometimes he forgot just how much of a mother you already were before your baby was even born. 

Nobody like that was allowed to touch your baby, not now and not ever.

park jimin

Jimin had been so naive to think that the pregnancy would be a peaceful one for you. He had let his guard down after month seven, after nothing bad or weird having happened.

And that was a huge mistake.

You were due in a few weeks and he wanted you two to have one final romantic night out before the baby would be born, meaning dinner in the restaurant of your choice, then going for a walk at the Han River, then going home and.. well..

But your night was cut short when you couldn't even make it to the restaurant. As soon as Jimin had parked the car and helped you out, a swarm of fans, which were sasaengs through and through, because they were the only ones who could have found out where you'd be eating tonight, came running to you.

He realized it in time, managed to push you back into the car before their grabby hands could touch your baby bump and managed to push all of them back enough to shut the car door.

Their attention shifted from you to him and they all started to touch him and pull on his clothes. He tried to push them away from him so that he could go around the car and get in himself, but there were simply too many.

All the while, you were sitting in the car, desperately banging on the window and begging them to stop, trying to open the door to help your husband, but he was blocking it from getting opened.

There was no way he’d let you back out there.

You reached into your purse and wanted to call the police, but since you were in an underground parking lot, your phone didn't have any service.

At that point, you were sobbing your eyes out because of how scared you were for Jimin, but then someone from the building, maybe guests of one of the restaurants or people that worked there, saw what was happening and helped Jimin pull the girls away from him, one after the other. 

They told him to get in the car and he did so without hesitation, reversing and then driving away without looking back, eternally grateful for these kind strangers.

“It's okay,” he tried to calm you down while driving away.

But it wasn't okay. Not when he had scratches on his face and hands, not when he was close to tears himself.. not when you realized all that stress caused you to suddenly go into labor. 

kim taehyung

This day had started out so well.

The weather was so perfect that Taehyung and you had spontaneously decided to go on a little road trip.

With you having passed the worst of your pregnancy phase and being able to actually walk and eat without throwing up every hour, it was now the perfect opportunity to just drive around and find a really cute spot to hang out, maybe have a picnic or coffee/tea.

But you should have guessed that it wasn't as easy as that, because Taehyung's super hardcore fans had never been ones to just leave him alone.

You had been driving for a while and you had become thirsty, so the two of you had searched for a very cute café and found one that was so aesthetically pleasing that you forgot about your surroundings for a second and just.. enjoyed it. Like every other normal human being would.

Your husband had gone inside to grab the drinks, so he wasn't there to stop what was happening.

“What the hell?!” you instantly pushed the chair back when you saw a hand reach down to your belly to touch it, then jumped up, “What do you think you're doing?!”

Unfortunately, there weren't too many people around to help you, only an elderly man and a young couple that, by the looks of it, hadn't even graduated high school. They wouldn’t be much help.

“Please, we just want to touch it. This is from Taehyung, directly from him, we just..-”

“I'm going to give you a fair warning,” your husband pushed himself between you and the girls, pointing his finger at one of the girls chest, “You come this close to my wife or child again, I will call the police and I'll make sure that your future is ruined. Do you understand?”

“But..-”

“No. No but. There is a line and you just crossed it. So this is my final warning. Leave now, or I'll call the police.”

The two girls glanced to the side to find the shop owner already standing there with her phone, ready to call the police if Taehyung said so.

You doubted that people like that had much planned for their future, but the threat of police and a possible lawsuit involving thousands, if not millions, if Taehyung had his way, scared them enough for them to scurry away.

You only allowed yourself to breathe again when they were out of sight, your husband immediately cupping your face and checking to see if you were harmed.

“I'm fine,” you shook your head a little, “I'm fine.”

“Shit,” he pulled you against him and kissed the top of your head, “I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I'll be more careful from now on.”

jeon jeongguk

This had been a massive scandal from the get-go. Not only were you and Jeongguk not married when rumors started to form that you were pregnant, but he was also 'way too young' to have a kid now and 'not in the right place in life yet' to be a father.

BigHit had kept quiet through it all, knowing that those weren't just rumors that people spewed, but the truth.

You were indeed pregnant. An accidental pregnancy that had shocked you and your boyfriend to the core, but after countless of nights crying and worrying, you've not just accepted it, but were looking forward to your baby.

The first few months were easy, a comeback had overshadowed the rumors and whenever they were doing interviews, BigHit made sure to tell the journalist not to ask any personal questions, or they'd be kicked out of the panels – they really had no mercy in that sense.

But there came a point where you just couldn't hide it anymore, unless you were to stay at home every single day till the day of the delivery.

And well, you didn’t.

You waited until Jeongguk was gone to leave, knowing that it'd be easier if it were just you, had taken precautions and worn a hat and a face mask... but these sasaengs, man.

You couldn't take fifteen footsteps until you heard screaming from a distance and a group of seven people charging at you with their phones up in the air, ready to take photos of your baby bump and expose it to the world.

Since you were still close to the entrance of your neighborhood, the security guard reacted perfectly, grabbed you by your upper arms and pulled you back in, closing the gate to Hannam Hill just in time and turned you around so that the girls wouldn't see your baby bump properly.

They were left standing and screaming at the fence, reaching through it like crazy zombies.

Rather scary, actually.

“You need to be careful, Ms. (Y/L/N),” the security guard warned as he walked you back to your apartment, “You can't just go out like this without precautions.”

“I just wanted to buy something for the baby,” you said sadly with slumped shoulders, “They have this limited Disney collection at Spao.. I just wanted to get something for my daughter.”

He let out a heavy sigh and watched you enter the building extremely upset.

Maybe it wasn’t his place, but when Jeongguk came home that night, he told him about the incident, wanting to make sure that he’d talk to you and make you understand that you couldn’t just go out like that without some sort of security.

And well, let’s just say Jeongguk’s father side really jumped out that night. He had you sit down on the couch and lectured you for nearly an hour without you saying a word.

[yikesharringrove]

hop or max (or both👀) realise how close bill and steve have become and love it because they can just see how happy the boys are

The two boys hadn’t noticed Hop standing there.

They were sitting, pressed hip to hip on the stairs outside the Byers’ when he arrived to pick up El.

They were passing one cigarette back and forth despite the full pack sitting between them, and the outline of a pack he could see in Billy’s breast pocket.

They were talking softly, giggling, touch lingering as they passed the cigarette back and forth.

Billy’s face was soft, was open when he looked at Steve. Hop didn’t know much about the kid, but had heard stories, stories of how rough and tumble he tended to be, how he was hard and mean.

He looked like a damn teddy bear next to Harrington on the steps.

And Jesus, Steve was almost unrecognizable to Hopper.

He had known the kid for a long time, knew his dad all through school, knew Steve when he got old enough to start causin’ trouble.

He had seen Steve looking bored and proper, like he was above everything, like he was too good for Hawkins. He had seen Steve get knocked down a few hundred pegs, had seen him rattling about the town with a nervous twitch in his shoulder, a crazed glint in his eye and a spiked bat in his trunk.

Hell, he’d even seen the kid breakdown, had found him in the woods one night, crashing through with his bat, had started spewing off about how he needed to make sure they were all gone, that everyone’s safe.

(He had cried and shook and slept on Hop’s couch for about a day and a half after that.)

He was used to the spoiled little prince, or the haunted teen with trauma past his years.

He was not used to this carefree boy, this giggly mess sitting next to his friend, sharing a cigarette.

He liked the look on Steve. Liked the line of his shoulders when they weren’t carrying the weight of the world.

-

Max huffed.

She had been woken up by a few thumps in Billy’s room. He had originally figured Neil was in there being awful, but then she heard giggles, unmistakable teenage girl giggles.

That gave way into unmistakable teenage girl moans.

She slammed a pillow over her head, blocking out the high-pitched whimpering. It was the same as the past few nights.

This girl, whoever she was, Billy must like her if she kept sneaking into his bedroom.

Usually, Billy was sneaking out, not letting this girl in.

When the noises had stopped, she took the pillow off her head.

“Sucks that your parent are home. It makes me nervous, you comin’ here. When do they leave again?” She rolled over, didn’t care to hear the chick’s response. She put on her headphones, falling asleep to the Metallica tape still in Billy’s walkman, didn’t hear Steve say, just two more nights, Bill.

-

“You need any help?” Hop was elbows deep in the sink, scrubbing at the dishes from dinner.

Steve was leaning against the counter, rolling up his sleeves. He didn’t wait for an answer, just shoved himself next to Hop and began scrubbing.

“You and Hargrove seem to be close.” He was too focused on rubbing the stains off of Joyce’s dishes to see how Steve’s cheeks went red.

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

“I think you’re good for each other. You both seem better.”

“‘Do you mean better?” Hop shrugged.

“He doesn’t seem as pissed off. I haven’t given him a speeding ticket in over two weeks for rage driving, and you haven’t seemed so, I don’t know, fucked up.”

Steve had to put the dish down as he laughed, was laughing so fucking hard he had to squat down, try to collect himself. He wiped his eyes when he stood back up.

“He’s secretly a really nice person. Don’t tell him I said that.” Hop winked at him.

-

Max threw Billy a weird look.

She had asked for a ride to Steve’s house, which was met with a I’ll be ready in ten from Billy. Twenty minutes of him getting his hair just so, they set off.

And then Billy got out of the car with her, walked her to Steve’s door.

“Don’t you got a date?” Billy just furrowed his brows at her. She looked pointedly at his clothes, the red shirt he only wore on his dates, almost all the way unbuttoned.

“Nah. Just haven’t done laundry in a while.” He was staring her down.

“Are you and Steve even friends?” But he didn’t answer. The door swung open, revealing Steve dressed casually in a pair of sweats. He smiled at Max, ushering her inside to the kitchen with the rest of the brats as he stepped onto the porch to talk to Billy.

She doubled back.

“You look nice. Got a date?”

“Yeah. Leggy brunet. Totally hot. Has this tight ass, is such a slut.” She cringed at the way her brother was talking about this poor girl. Plus, ehy had he lied to Max, said he didn’t have a date.

“Sounds like a wet fucking dream.” Billy muttered shuddup as Steve laughed.

Steve was making fun of Billy, as wasn’t getting the shit beaten out of him for it.

“Well, come in then. It’s cold.” It really wasn’t but she raced off to join the others in the kitchen, left too soon to see Billy pin Steve against the door, kiss him roughly for a few seconds.

Billy snuck out again, after dropping her off at home.

-

Hop was on quarry duty tonight.

It was Valentine’s Day, which meant most of Hawkins’ young couples would be parked at the quarry or Lovers’ Lake or one of the other lookout make out spots.

Hop was wandering through with a flashlight, knocking on windows with a Hawkins PD, get outta here, you’re trespassing.

He came upon Billy Hargrove’s unmistakable car, the dark blue Camaro parked under a large tree, mostly hidden from the other’s.

He was expecting to knock on the back window, but heard voices coming from the hood.

Billy and Steve were passing what smelled like a joint back and forth, laying back on the windshield looking at the stars.

“Fuck knows I got no other plans for this year. I don’t mind waiting.”

“It’s a whole year, Steve. You’d be stuck here until I graduate.”

“What else am I gonna do?”

“You might still get into Chicago.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Bill.” 

Hopper came stomping up to their line of sight. Steve put out the joint against the side of the car and tossed it into the bushes.

“Subtle.” Billy shrugged at Hop.

“I was expecting to have to pull you off some girl, Hargrove.”

“Hawkins chicks ain’t really my type.” Hop just shook his head.

“Well, you two are still trespassing. Services roads closed at six.” Steve just nodded vigorously as he slid off the car.

“We’ll scurry right off, Hop. Sorry.”

“And if you two are gonna smoke, please do it in a house, or somewhere I can’t smell it.”

The two slammed themselves in the car, Hop could hear them laugh as the car roared to life.

-

Max was digging through the backseat of Billy’s car, trying to find her skateboard.

He had hidden it from her, like a fucking child, so she snagged his keys when he was too busy being a meathead, working out in the living room.

It was as gross as she was expecting. Billy like to keep his car very clean, especially compared to his pigsty of a bedroom.

She picked up an old worn sweatshirt, found a plain shoebox underneath.

She didn’t want to snoop, but she was curious.

There were a few pictures of Billy’s mom right on top. She only recognized her from the necklace around her neck, the one Billy now refused to take off.

There were some movie ticket stubs, a big wad off cash she made a mental note of, a slip of paper she recognized from a fortune cookie from the place Billy would take her on Thursdays after school in California to get their two for one entree special. He had some jewelry in there, probably more of his mom’s, and a gaudy valentine covered in glitter.

She closed the box, didn’t care to dig further than the valentine, didn’t see Steve’s neat handwriting inside of it, the pictures Billy hoarded underneath it, pictures of Steve, pictures of him and Steve, even a few saucy ones of Steve.

Instead she turned her attention to the hoodie, to the faded Hawkins High Swim Team on the front.

She gave it back to Steve next time she saw him.

“Found it in my brother’s car.”

It would be back in a few weeks, anyway.

-

Hop opened the door to the cabin when Steve rapt on it.

He was toting a bunch of board games, was there to watch El for the night.

Hop raised his eyebrows when Steve set them down, revealing the faded Judas Priest shirt. He knew Steve liked shitty pop, wouldn’t be caught dead listening to hard rock.

“Nice shirt.” Steve looked down at himself, going red.

“Oh shit, Bill slept over last night, he must’ve left it.”

And then Hop noticed the bruises. The dark hickies on his neck, just under the stolen shirt.

Hop’s pretty sure he would’ve never heard the end of it if Steve had a girlfriend, pretty sure the kid’s would’ve lost their shit over it.

So Steve maybe was dating in secret, dating a boy in secret, a boy he spent Valentine’s Day with, a boy he giggled with and shared cigarettes with, a boy who’s shirts he stole and forgot he was wearing them.

But Steve was soft when he sat down next to El, smiled at her nicely and asked about the book she was reading.

So Hop shrugged, and went to his late shift.

-

“You wanna go to the mall?” Billy was standing weirdly in her doorway, trying to make himself look like he belonged there. “Could call up that chick friend of yours.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What’s the catch.”

“No catch. Just needed to get something from the mall. Thought you’d wanna go.” He had been acting really off lately.

He’d been talking to her how they used to, before Neil doubled down and moved them halfway across the country. He had even made a joke the other day, one that wasn’t a mean comment masquerading as a joke.

“Lemme call El. Maybe Hop would drop her off.” She was even more suspicious as he smiled at her, went to back to his room. She talked to El for a moment, who said Hop would drop her off in ten minutes.

She poked her head in Billy’s room, saw him looking in the mirror, primping himself.

“Does your girlfriend work at the mall?” He gave her a withering stare.

“Don’t have a girlfriend.” She grinned.

“You so do. You know, I heard her sneaking in here a few months ago. I know that you sneak out to go and see her.” Billy flushed. “And it’s always the same voice, so don’t lie and say it’s different girls you perv.”

“Shut up, Maxine.”

“Make me, William.” He stamped his foot like a little kid.

“That’s it! No more mall for you today. I’m just gonna go by myself.” She blocked him in the doorway.

“Just tell me her name.” He shook his head.

“Fine. Tell me where she works and El and I will leave you two alone.” He shifted his jaw around.

“She works at Scoops Ahoy?”

“Isn’t that where Steve works?”

“He introduced us.”

But, But that didn’t add up. Billy had been seeing this girl long before Steve started working there. Maybe they knew each other before? No, Steve famously didn’t have any friends besides the party when Billy started sneaking around with that gir-

And then it hit her.

The fucking sweatshirt.

The Hawkins High Swim Team sweatshirt.

Leggy brunet. Totally hot. Has this tight ass, is such a slut.

She almost threw up.

Steve was her brother’s secret girlfriend. How did she not fucking see this.

“Cool. We’ll let you two be gross or whatever.”

He gave her a tiny smile. She was trying her best not to scream.

Hopper dropped El off and Billy drove them to the mall, let Max pick the music and at one point, had even hummed along to the Hall & Oates song. Fucking Rich Girl.

She pulled El along to The Gap when they hit the mall, Billy making a beeline for Scoops.

“We’re gonna spy on Billy.” El just smiled slyly and nodded vigorously.

They crouched behind plants out in front of Scoops, could just hear Billy talking to Steve’s coworker.

“Dingus, your homoerotic rival turned lover is here.” Steve’s shoes squeaked as he launched himself from the back room. Max’s hands were clammy. She was right.

“Don’t be so loud, Rob.”

“There’s no one here.” Max heard a sound like something being hit dully. Steve yelped. Billy just slapped his ass. “But, you are not allowed to leave me for more than your fifteen. Not like last week. The rush came and I was alone for an hour, Steve. An hour.”

“O-kay, Rob. We’ll be quick.”

“And disinfect any surface you two fuck on. I refuse to touch that.” Billy roared with laughter as Steve squawked indignantly. Max peeked up to watch Steve drag Billy into the backroom. Billy grinned at Robin, a really nice, happy smile before turning to Steve.

[jooniperhun]

The End of the Rainbow | ot7 (1)

pairing: tall!black!reader x bts, poc!reader x bts, woc!reader x bts, black!reader x bts

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to (maybe) lovers [later], romance [later], comedy, misunderstandings [later], (slight) angst [later], smut (maybe??) [later], idol!au

rating: PG-14

wc: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

notes: the boys won’t make an appearance until chapter 2 but there is some foreshadowing in there (hint hint); pretend that corona never happened; most of the geographical locations/distances will either be made up or not named because I’ve never been to Korea lol whoops; this reads more like a reader-insert sorry that’s my default writing setting; and the boys’ backstories and such won’t be all that accurate because I’m the author and I say so teehee :)

“Text like this is spoken in Korean.”

“Text like this is spoken in English.”

summary: Your current job as a travelling housesitter has taken you to many places, some strange and many wonderful. When the acquisition of a new client takes you to Korea for three months, you wonder if your self-esteem can survive being around so many other-worldly looking people. Also, not to be paranoid or anything, but maybeperhaps you’re being stalked by the same seven strangers? They’re pretty loud and always surrounded by a tonne of people, so you write it off the first few times.

But this shit is getting excessive, chile. And annoying…

Rhetorical question, but what lies at the end of a rainbow? You hope that it’s a pot of gold, but with the way that your luck has soured, it might just be seven short(er than you), rowdy leprechauns ready to flip your world sideways…

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Usually, when it came to social outings, ___ would go out of her way to make sure that she looked her best. Her wild mane would be tamed, her makeup would be carefully, painstakingly applied, and her clothes wouldn’t hold a single wrinkle. This, however, isn’t ‘usually’— this is an airport, and ___ currently couldn’t find it within herself to give a single, flying fuck about her appearance after the flight that she had just had. 

That isn’t to say that it was terrible— she was flying first class, for Christ’s sake! Not to mention that she didn’t have to spend a single dime on it (excluding the multiple new outfits and lashes that she purchased for herself because if she was anything, it was slightly vain). But a roughly 18 hour flight, combined with slight motion sickness? It doesn’t matter how comfortably she had dressed, or how attentive the flight attendants were, or how delicious the food was— ___ walked off of the landing strip probably looking exactly as she felt (read: terrible). 

Luckily, the good thing about airports was that she wasn’t the only one. No one paid her any mind, too worried about themselves and finding their respective luggages and families to be giving some rando more than a passing glance. 

She was officially in Seoul, South Korea, and she couldn’t read a damn thing.

Okay— slight exaggeration. Most of the signs had English (and Spanish, and Chinese, and Japanese) translations beneath the larger blocks of Korean, but her damn near-blind ass missed that the first time around. 

The airport looked as airports tended to look— large, modern, and clean. There was a beautiful netting of glass in the ceiling that let gentle rays of sunlight in. The walls were similarly comprised of the netting design and slanted outwards, away from all of the passengers. Statues and abstract constructions divided the masses. People from all walks of life milled around, looking for their luggage or anxiously waiting for their plane to arrive.

Incheon International Airport, Terminal One, Flight DL27. ___ reminded herself over and over of the number of where she would go for Baggage Claim, scanning the area and mumbling slightly to herself. She adjusted her dark shades and hefted her purse (her only carry-on) higher onto her shoulders, following the crush of fellow passengers into the depths of the fragile looking place. 

There were a lot of people walking around with black facemasks and shades on, so she was glad that she wasn’t the only shady-looking sista walking around. Inwardly snorting at her own pun, ___ nearly walked past her destination. 

It was honestly this part of each trip that gave her the most anxiety— that is, waiting for her suitcase to come around on the conveyor belt.

She had heard and read multiple horror stories about too many passengers never recovering their luggage. Either stolen, lost, or dropped from the airplane itself— if it could go wrong, it went wrong. But it’s not like hers’ is particularly interesting to look at. It was a simple, standard black. Only a red, knotted ribbon tied around the handle marked it as her own.

Ten minutes of fretful bag checking later, ___ finally found it. She gave a silent sigh of relief and turned towards the exit. Then, her anxiety flared right back up when she realized that she would have to hail a taxi to get to her destination. 

Honestly, her people-meter was getting a little bit too full for her to actually be initiating direct human interaction right now. 

But she would persevere! Even if her persistence could use a bit of work, she’s faked confidence enough times to make it. 

Getting a taxi to stop for her was like pulling teeth. By the time that she had stuffed her menial baggage into the trunk and clambered into the front seat, her temper had risen a few notches. She’s had a long two days. The flight wasn’t kind on her stomach or her sleep schedule— not to mention the fact that she felt disgusting. A shower sounded so nice right now… She didn’t want to be on the streets any longer than she had to be, dammit!

Donning her ‘Customer Service’ voice (as she liked to call it), she politely rattled off her destination to the driver in Korean. He was on the younger side for the profession (at least, from what she’s seen), with neatly laid dark hair and slightly tanned skin. His dark eyes constantly shifted from the road to her when they were stopped for traffic, but he luckily seemed to sense her mood as he did not say anything more than the polite initial greeting. 

All in all, it was a 30 minute drive filled with determinedly unawkward silence. ___ sent a quick text to her employer to inform them that she would be at the house in a bit, then sent another to her mother to let her know that she touched down safely. Almost immediately, her phone began to buzz.

Rolling her eyes, ___ answered. “Good morning to you too, Ma.” She said as her full lips tilted up in amusement. Upon hearing the English, the driver sent another glance in her direction.

“Hey, baby! It’s night time for us right now (we just got finished eating dinner). How was your flight?” Her mother’s voice gave a slightly tinny echo as she spoke, and the sound of shifting fabric clued ___ in to the fact that she, indeed, was probably on the toilet.

“Tiring. I forgot to buy Dramamine, so it was a fun time for me.” She switched hands with her phone so that she could look out of her window more comfortably. Little snatches of the city flashed by before they turned into a slightly more residential area. The houses here were large and gated, yet closely located. “How is everyone doing? No-one dead yet, right?”

Her mother snorted. “Yet is correct. Turns out, ya’ sister got herself a lil boyfriend—” ___ had to stifle her laugh before she gave herself away, “— and ya’ daddy wasn’t too happy when he found out. Her fast ass is sitting in her room right now, phone taken and everything. Woulda’ gotten an ass whoopin if we found anything triflin’ in it, but she’s clean.” Yeah, only because of her advice. No sending nudes back and forth, no secret folders dedicated to trifling shit, and no conversations going further than normal teen-girl gossip. Those were her three cardinal rules to sneaking around with a boy, and it seems that her little sister had done well to heed them.

“And the lil’ boy? Anyone we know?” ___ asked, playing along. If her parents found out she already knew about him, her ass would be grass, too. 

“Yes!” Ma exclaimed frustratedly. The driver jumped at the sudden loud sound in the otherwise silent car. “That nigga, Devin. Lives a block down from us? You know the one.” She gave the appropriate gasp at the news while rolling her eyes. Devin was a sweet boy who had a good future ahead of himself. There was no goddamn way she would waste her painstakingly gathered advice on someone who wasn’t good for her sister.

“Dam— I mean, wow. You think you know the people you live around...” She caught herself quickly before she cursed. Even halfway across the world, her fear of her ma’s wrath was still very, very healthy.

“I heard that, but I’ll let it slide this time.” Her mother’s tone was amused despite her previous outrage. 

“Anyways, as I was saying… I don’t see anything wrong with Devin. He was a nice boy, last time I talked to him.” From the cover of her shades, ___ watched the driver watch her from the corner of his eye. The car began to slow.

“Tell that to ya’ daddy. He—” Ma began to rant as ___ pulled the phone away from her ear. 

“How much do I owe you?” She asked quietly, hands dropping to rummage through her purse for her wallet as she cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder. “—Alright, Ma. Imma have to call you back. We just pulled up to the house and I gotta get situated.”

Handing the driver the appropriate amount of Won, they both left the car to remove her luggage from his trunk. “Okay, sweetie. Love you! Call me again when you get settled in.” Her mother echoed as she mouthed a quick ‘Thank you,’ with a shallow bow.

“Gotcha. Love you, too! Bye.” She hung up and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, making it extend before dragging it behind her towards the house that they had stopped in front of.

She couldn’t really see anything past the high, brick walls and iron gate. Spotting an intercom, she quickly checked her reflection in her phone’s camera before she could press the button to call her employer.

Removing her silk head-scarf, she found that her high puff had held up reliably under it. She quickly stuffed it into her purse and pulled out her glasses case to place her shades in. Shoving that back in, too, she smoothed out her black jeans and checked for stains on her yellow top. It was only after assuring that her face was, indeed, clean that she rang the buzzer.

A red light blinked on before a voice answered. So there was a security camera for surveillance? Good. “Good morning! You must be ___, right?” Her voice was smooth and low, like velvet. It hinted towards an older age, especially when compared to the commonly high pitched tones of the youth.

“Yes, good morning.” ____ stepped back slightly to bow. The gate unlocked with a soft click, and she made her way up the driveway. She could only see one car at the moment, but from the size of the house— no, mansion—, she was sure that a lot more were probably in the garages (yes, plural).

The mansion was a modern white with a lot of windows to let in natural light. The lawn was cleanly cut and the rich, emerald grass shined with small droplets of morning dew. There was actually a surprising amount of yard space, which was ideal for pets and children. The only thing that she would be needing to worry about this trip was a dog and some plants, though.

Little solar-powered lights lined the walkway that ___ walked down. They looked nothing like the one-dollar versions from the Dollar Store, and definitely cost a lot more, too. She climbed a few stone steps to reach the porch. On either side of a dark-wooded door, two gold vases stood guard. They were almost as tall as her and intricately carved with little, delicate flowers. The welcome mat that she stood upon was a sensible dark brown and had a looping Welcome swirled across the front in white. 

She rang the doorbell and patiently waited.

A few moments passed before the door sprung open. The lady that answered was small and adorable in her old age. Her dark hair was sprinkled with white streaks, and her large, dark eyes were creased with laugh lines. The same lines were also wrinkled around her mouth, but they did not take away from the traditional beauty that she still held. Her cheeks were rounded and scattered with pink, and her skin was the color of milk. She was dressed in a fashionable black pantsuit and wore black pumps that boosted her height. 

“Good morning!” ___ bowed lowly with a sweet smile. Her eyes, large and slightly too round to truly be almond shaped, disappeared into crescents. With her face transformed so cutely by just a single smile, one would find it hard to believe that ___ had a mean, mean resting bitch face that, when combined with her not inconsiderable height, gave her a naturally intimidating demeanor.

Endeared, the woman bowed back. “Please, come in.” She invited, stepping aside and letting ___ and her suitcase drag in. 

***

She was still getting situated in the guest room when the door slowly creaked open.

Though she couldn’t see anything from where she was seated on the bed, the tell-tale pattern of claws clicking against the hardwood floor cued her in to who was entering— Mickey, a cute, little Shih-Tzu breed with floppy ears and a brown and white coloring. Despite the fact that he was male, Mickey had two tiny, powder-blue bows woven around his ears. His matching sweater creased slightly as he padded towards her.

“Hi, sweetie!” ___ cooed, reaching down to give him a gentle pat on the head, “Are you looking for some company now that Grandma isn’t in?” 

Mickey had been (surprisingly) very calm upon his introduction towards ___. He barely reacted (outside of a few weak wags of his fluffy tail) to her squealings of how cute he was. Perhaps it was behavior that he was used to.

He settled down onto the carpet next to her bed, the ideal spot for her to reach down and pet him if she wanted to. It was a good move on his part, because that was exactly what she wanted to do. 

___ was a huge dog lover— in fact, she just loved cute, fluffy animals in general. Cats, llamas, sheep— you name it. She tolerated reptiles, and if she had to handle insects, it was usually with gloves and a healthy bit of distance. 

The moral of the story is that she adored fur-babies, and until Mickey’s owner came to pick him up or his Grandma came back home, Mickey was her dog.

a/n: Thank you all for reading the first chapter! I really hope you liked it. The fun stuff starts next chapter, so please stay tuned! I have so much planned *evil laughter*

[exophile3d]

Old Rip

The poll I did last week came up with ‘gargoyle’ for my next Monster BF ficlet, so here’s Part 1. It was only going to be a shortie, but I got carried away!

Male Gargoyle, Female Reader.

Part 1 (SFW)

“Morning, Rip!” You wave cheerily at the snarling, stone-faced monstrosity that guards the entrance to the grand drive. It doesn’t respond. It’s never been much of a talker. It’s a good listener though and it must surely know more about you than anyone in the world. It’s almost a shame it’s a series of inanimate lumps of stone.

Your feet crunch pleasingly on the wet gravel as you make your way up to the house to start your day’s work. Ravenscourt has been your home since you were five years old: your grandparents took you in after the loss of your immediate family, and now only you granddad, ‘Grumpa’ remains. The main house dates back to the seventeenth century, although there has been a building on the site since Roman times, if Grumpa’s fireside stories are to be believed. History is rooted here, and nowhere more so than the archway next to the gatehouse where your family has lived as stewards to the Bryant estate for over two hundred years. It is an imposing entryway, perhaps built with the intent of making anyone who enters think twice about crossing the Bryants, and above it, for added intimidation waits a demonic stone figure that Grumpa refers to as ‘Old Rip’. Its head, hands and wings alone are visible, placed by some unknown architect so that it looks for all the world like it is emerging from the ancient stone to punish trespassers. As a child, it frightened you. As you grew, you came to see it for the impressive architectural feat it is, and now, you harbour a certain fondness for it, and see it as a co-worker that assists you in caring for the estate.

“Getting the gutters cleaned today, so don’t frighten the workmen when they get here,” you tease.

It’s part of your morning routine. You always greet Old Rip as you go about your chores, telling it what you plan to do, what’s needed around the estate and wishing it a pleasant day. It never answers, of course, but you’d feel rude ignoring it. It’s part of the family. You often climb the service stairs at the back of the archway, an old, worn stone spiral that leads to a treacherous, narrow ledge along the back of the entryway. There’s a spot just to the left of Old Rip’s face with a flat surface that’s perfect for sitting, dangling your legs, and looking out over the tree-lined drive. With no companions your own age nearby, you’ve been chattering away to Old Rip for years from your precarious perch atop the archway. You can tell him anything, and in all the times you’ve shared your secrets with him, he’s never once been judgmental.

“And the new owner’s coming later, so play nice! I’ll be back at lunchtime to share my sarnies with you,” you call over your shoulder as you trudge along the driveway. “Ham and mustard - your favourite.”

Neither you, your stalwart Grumpa nor the demonic stone guard could have prevented the passing of old man Bryant. The last of his line, he left no will, and with no family to argue over the house and land, Ravenscourt has been put up for sale. You’ve agreed with the lawyers that you and your grandfather can stay on site until the new owners take over, and they will decide whether they want you to stay on: it will be up to you to argue your case. Over the weeks, prospective buyers have come and gone. Some plan to restore the house, some to turn it into an artists’ retreat or a wellness centre, and yet others to repurpose it into luxury apartments. You like none of the potential newcomers as much as you did old man Bryant, but you accept that times must change, and you’ve managed to keep a civil tongue around them all, not knowing which you might need to talk into letting you and Grumpa stay.

In the end, it was a city banker who forked out the cool nine mill, and today will mark his first visit to Ravenscourt since he bought it. He turns up in a DB9 and a sharp suit and immediately starts making plans to build this, tear down that, split this room into three, put in hot tubs and jacuzzis, oh, and last but not least, pull down the ugly old gateway and put in mock-Grecian columns that would suit the seventeenth-century charm of Ravenscourt about as well as a disco-ball.

“Pretty sure that gateway is protected,” you argue as he takes off his shades and saunters over to you. “Grade II listed.”

“You’re the stewards, aren’t you? I heard you came with the gatehouse,” he drawls. There’s something both possessive and condescending about the way he phrases that comment and you shudder, but he does at least seem to have forgotten about the archway. Good. “Any decent restaurants around here?”

You pause before replying. There are some fantastic family-run eateries in the village a mile down the road, but not only do you not want to inflict this city boy on them, but you suspect he’s looking for something rather less ‘rustic home-cooked goodness’ and rather more ‘pretentious haute-cuisine with Michelin stars’. “There are some nice restaurants in Oxford city centre,” you inform him.

“Great. I’ll send a car for you around six thirty,” he says, sliding his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll- what?” you ask.

“We need to talk about your options,” he says, with a tilt of his head towards the little stone cottage you’ve come to think of as home. “I thought we could do that over dinner tonight. My days are spoken for.”

You shrivel inside. The thought of spending a couple of hours in his company turns your stomach, but if you want to ensure security for you and your grandfather, you’re going to have to grin and bear it. “Six thirty,” you confirm as he gets into his Aston and revs the engine unnecessarily.

He stops the car under the archway and leans his arm on the open window. “And wear something pretty,” he says, looking at you over the top of his expensive-looking shades and winking. You feel physically sick. You can see where this is going, but if this banker decides he doesn’t need you living in the gatehouse and looking after the property any more, then you and Grumpa are out on the street with nowhere to go. You manage a smile and he leans a little further out, his smile widening as he opens his mouth to make a further suggestion, when a chunk of masonry the size of a breezeblock detaches from the archway and lands neatly in the centre of his pristine Arizona bronze DB9 bonnet.

You manage to keep a straight face until he has stopped swearing, removed the block, ascertained there is no damage to the engine, and driven off in a huff. You walk to the end of the drive to see him off, then turn back and head for the house to get dinner ready for Grumpa. You pause under the archway, noting that the masonry detached from just under Old Rip’s hand and you shake your head and tut at the lifeless stone effigy.

“That wasn’t very friendly, Rip!” The wind blows your hair across your face and a family of ravens wheels overhead, cawing loudly. Just for a moment, with strands of hair undulating in your field of vision, it almost looks as though Old Rip is laughing. You scowl as you pull the hair from your eyes. “You better be nice to him, or he’ll tear you down and replace you with a pair of concrete columns!”

Part 2

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 2 』

· Sept. 26th → One Ball, Heart and Soul ·

Characters: Sawamura Daichi, Testurou Kuroo, Bokuto Koutarou, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Oikawa Tooru, Terushima Yuuji

Prompts: A. favourite position/role + B. travel/journey

Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), PG, fluff, crack, headcanons, HaikyuuWeek2020

A/N: I found it so hard to pick a favourite position/role, because they're all so interesting and important, and I love everyone 😭 But I settled on the role of captain because of the headcanons I thought of. Captain Sqaud, assemble! So, want to find out what these boys are like on a road trip?

(Just to be clear, I do love all these guys. None of this is hate 😂) All my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts will be SFW, but I have some NSFW stuff on my blog, too. Feel free to check that out~ Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ Imo~

☆ Sawamura Daichi ☆

Dad-chi™

Comes prepared with all the food, drinks, snacks, med kit, camera – literally everything you could possibly need on a road trip

Plans out the route beforehand down to the tiniest detail nothing gets past this man

As well as multiple backup routes in case there's diversions etc.

Plans for regular breaks at two-hour intervals where everyone can pee, stretch their legs, buy anything they need, etc.

He's the one who's driving he's not letting anybody else get a scratch on his van, lmao

And he's good at it

No speeding he's a cop, y'all but he doesn't dawdle either, no running red lights, turns corners well, keeps an even foot on the gas, etc.

Just a good time, tbh

Nobody is getting car sick because of him that would be a damn disgrace

"Stop fighting right now, or I'm turning this van around"

And will actually do it if you don't stfu, lmfao

Don't even think about making a mess and dropping your rubbish in the van you'll be walking home

Everyone else thinks his music is boring and for old people, but Daichi honestly doesn't care

Besides, it's either that or no music at all, because he needs to concentrate on the road

He takes this shit seriously. People's lives are in his hands, dammit!

☆ Testurou Kuroo ☆

Likes to switch between driving and riding shotgun/being designated navigator

Is fairly decent at both

Is constantly eating something but, like, he probably doesn't even know what it is

Some kind of edible is shoved towards his mouth by whoever's riding shotgun, and in it goes shut up. Not like that, you cretins 😂

Somehow manages to behave like an overbearing grandparent and an overexcited child at the same time?? Nothing new there, I guess 😂

I'm sorry, Kuroo, I love you. Please don't be mad 😭

Has a banging playlist full of throwback songs from the 90s and early 2000s

Drums along sofly on the steering wheel or dashboard constantly

HATES driving in rain he's low-key terrified he's going to aquaplane

Likes driving with the windows wound down and feeling the wind in his hair

Will plan the route, but then forget to save it/print it off, etc.

Cannot work Google Maps or SAT-NAVs to save his life Kenma, please help him

Actually packs properly balanced meals, but is heavy on the snacks, too

You'd think he'd drive too fast, but he's actually really responsible

Constantly telling dad jokes to try and keep people amused the groaners are the best

Would probably fight someone at the gas station if they started being a dick and causing trouble

Kuroo, baby. I love you, but please don't get arrested 😭😂😭

☆ Bokuto Koutarou ☆

Dear God, do NOT let him drive leave it to Akaashi, I'm begging you

Has really bad spacial awareness in a vehicle and drifts all over the place

Probably speeds without even knowing it, too

Likes to ride shotgun, but is a terrible navigator, so is nearly always made to ride in the back

Is the loud one that moves around too much and blocks the rear view mirror strap him in tight, Akaashi

Belts along at the top of his voice to whatever music is playing, he's not fussy

Was told to pack essential items in his backpack and proceeded to fill it with sweets and snacks and a pack of condoms??? and thought he did good

Bokuto: Bro, you said they were essential

Akaashi: NOT FOR EVERY SITUATION

Rarely ever has to pee, but when he does, it's always miles away from any service station, and he has to hold it for hours

Has definitely peed at the side of the road multiple times because he couldn't hold it any longer, but he wasn't even embarrassed as numerous cars zoomed past

Likes sticking his head out the window like a dog on the motorway which gives everyone else heart attacks

Like, get the hell back inside you maniac 😭

If the car has a sunroof, he's 100% standing up through it with his hands in the air just you try and stop him

And they will. Everyone will try

"HORSES!!"

Will get out of the car in traffic jams to find out what's going on and end up chatting with random strangers until it starts moving again

And he's very sad when he has to leave his new friends. Droopy hair and emo Kou for the next 2 hours :(

Unironically enjoys playing 'I Spy' for hours at a time

Is a bit much to handle in such a confined space for hours on end, but he's just so excited for the road trip

Will fall sound asleep in a matter of minutes if you set him up with a travel pillow and it's freaking adorable!!

☆ Ushijima Wakatoshi ☆

No music whatsoever it's distracting. Why would he want it?

Okay driver, brilliant paper-map navigator

Will sit and do absolutely nothing but stare out the window the entire trip if he's neither

Breaks too hard and accelerates too fast, though

Is also kind of heavy-handed with the gear stick he may or may not have snapped one off before...

Never give him a SAT-NAV, though, because he will follow the directions with 100% accuracy and end up driving through a wall or some shit don't try and deny it

Does he ever even blink when he's looking at the road? We may never know

Might be astral projecting, who knows

Forgets people need toilet breaks but refuses to make unscheduled stops

"Just hold it in"

Uh-huh, sure. That's how that works, Toshi

No snacks

Or rather, no fun snacks. Protein bars and mineral water all the way, babyyyy 🙃🙃🙃

Could probably drive all through the night without taking any breaks but that's irresponsible

Don't do it, kids

Will likely devour the entire KFC menu at the service station he's big, okay? He eats a lot

Is prone to leg cramp after long drives oh look, he needs a massage 😏

Doesn't get car sick. Ever. Upset stomachs are for the weak

Has garbage and recycling pouches on the backs of the front seats use them correctly, or feel his wrath

Isn't exactly a barrel of laughs, but it's somehow endearing just like always *happy sigh*

But it's actually a good thing

There's no hidden side to Ushi or any bad or annoying habits that come out of the woodwork on a long road trip

He's just the same old reliable, adorably straightforward Ushijima ❤

☆ Oikawa Tooru ☆

Calls shotgun and demands the aux cord every. Single. Time but it's pretty decent music, so no-one really complains

Not that he's any good at navigation pray for Iwa-chan

Is constantly taking selfies, making TikToks, and documenting the trip on his social media

#ROADTRIP #SQUAD GOALS #BETTER THAN YOU

Will send all the photos in the group chat when it's over, and they actually come out pretty well

Will not stop complaining if the air conditioning is busted and Iwa-chan will threaten to dump him in the middle of nowhere if he doesn't can it 😂

Iwa-chan: I shoulda left you on that street corner where you were standing

Oikawa: But'cha dIDN'T

Bonus points if you get that reference, lmao

Has to keep taking breaks because his butt hurts when he sits down for too long because it's fLaT

I'm sorry, Tooru 😭😭 Forgive me. I love you, really

Is constantly on his phone

But he points out pretty views and interesting sights to everyone all the time awww

Low-key needs to pee all the time, but gets defensive if someone brings it up please stop bulling him, travelling is hard

"Are we there yet?"

Seems kind of annoying, but is actually just genuinely excited to go on a road trip and spend time with his friends 😭😭

Buys matching souvenirs for everyone in secret to surprise them with 🥺

When people complain about all the photos, souvenirs, and enthusiasm, etc. and ask why he has to keep doing it, Oikawa says:

"I want to remember as much of this as possible. I want us all to remember as much of this as much as possible," with a sweet little smile 😭😭😭

And that's when everyone realises how mean they've been to him about being over-the-top and irritating, and they all feel terrible

Just like in the freaking anime, man

☆ Terushima Yuuji ☆

Will hijack the aux cord to play his incredibly niche music taste

Feet up on the dashboard when he rides shotgun

Shoes on is bad enough, but shoes off just stinks up the entire car you have to roll all the windows down, lmfao

Will break all sorts of road laws if you let him behind the wheel please don't

Daichi will come and arrest him 😭😭

Lives on energy drinks

That's all the drinks he packs. Nothing else

Travels in sports wear and sliders yes, even though you reallly shouldn't drive in sandals

Like he knows or cares 😭

Will chat to girls at the gas station and ask for their numbers, even though he's never going to see them again

"You never know, man! It could be, like, fate or something"

Yes, Yuuji, you do. And it's 'or something'

Thinks it's a good time to sext his current booty call because, like, he has hours of free time. What else is he going to do?

Probably forgot to pack actual food

Has to live off of snacks and cheap service station food for the duration of the trip

But not his own snacks, of course. Everyone else's one doesn't keep friends and buy one's own snacks

Genuinely doesn't realise if he's being gross or annoying, so let him down lightly like a bro and he'll probably make an effort to stop

Doesn't plan the route or anything, even if he's driving. Just punches it into Google Maps as he sits his ass down on the day and trusts it to get him there in one piece and on time

Entire Johzenji team: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...

For some reason knows how to change a flat tire, though, so he's good for something, I guess 😂😂

Probably saw a YouTube video on it. Maybe a WikiHow article

Somehow still manages to be an endearing part of the trip??

He smiles a lot and makes a lot of jokes, particularly when things go wrong, so it keeps everyone's spirits up

It definitely wouldn't be the same without him

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[wevegottogetaway]

Whirlwind Part I - Mistral

DAY 0

Time seems to slow down but the speedometer on Aella's Triumph says otherwise. As the needle flirts with the 124mph mark, it's hard to tell wether she's the one chasing after the wind or the other way around. Miles after miles, her beloved motorbike swallows up the empty road offering itself before her, almost begging her to throw speed limits cautions to the wind. Speed has no secret for Aella though. Brown eyes steady on the asphalt, her focus is unswerving. Yet, she's never felt more free and insouciant.

Except maybe when she's flying.

In the tight confine of her Tomcat, as she defies other kinds of laws, Aella seeps in a whole new world. One where she makes her own physics, her own rules. One where the sky in no longer a limit and neither is her gender. Because when she occupies the cockpit of the F-14 - a baby only a handful of aviators are lucky to even sit in - she's just that: an aviator. A squadron unit who receives missions and completes them. Once her feet tread the tarmac though, the reality is quickly sobering. That's why Aella has learnt to savor each one of the limited hours she spends in the in-between realm of the stratosphere.

Tilting her head briefly to look at the clear sky above her, Aella lets a smile grace her lips as she realizes she'll be back up there very soon. And in high amounts at that. A few years ago, she could have only dreamt to be recruited as part of the most elitist of naval aviation programs in the world. But after years of working twice as hard as her fellow Navy fighter pilots and putting up with their never-ending bullying, her resilience has finally paid off. The memory of their crest-fallen faces when their Commander announced her promotion in front of them all is still one of her favorite. And on that note, they can respectfully kiss her ass.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just life. But no matter how serendipitous the death of Navy fighter Jonathan Evans, she'll be the one taking his place in the US Navy's Fighter Weapons School's Top Gun program. It was a regrettable news but one that changed Aella's destiny forever.

San Diego's sun is just as blazing as LA's, but the nice breeze the city benefits from neighboring the ocean makes it easier to breath. The streets are void of the usual hustle and bustle that inhabits the city of angels, but the palm-trees-lined streets seem to remain a consistent feature of the Californian landscape.

After driving in two hours what should have been a three hours ride, Aella finally pulls up in front of a single-story condominium situated on the street that runs alongside the shore. Taking in the magical scenery that surrounds her new place, she finds herself standing front row for the sun's crepuscular show.

Aella has always loved sunsets. She fell in love with their ephemeral hues when she was 7 and already wanted to make the sky hers. At 25 years of age, they now serve as a reminder that regardless of the fact she knows it like the back of her hand, the blue immensity still withholds secrets that are meant to remain forever's mysteries.

Aella finally makes her way to her new home and her eyes immediately fall on the three large boxes that she had sent from LA the week prior, as per US Navy's request. Waiting for her on the floor, they seem quite a bit lonely in the otherwise empty room. The place is small but designed well enough to be comfortable. The L-shape kitchen directly on the right upon entrance shares one main open space with the living room and dining room, though the term "room" is to be taken loosely. Mostly, they consist of a dining table placed in the center, and a sofa facing a TV set at the back. Between the two, french doors lead the way to a small garden; just enough space for a sun lounger and a small outdoor table.

Aella doesn't expect to be around much as most of her days will be spent at the training center, but as she starts unpacking, she can already picture herself living there anyway. Early runs on the beach, morning coffees out with the birds chirping the news of the day and some lazy reading on the lounger when she's lucky to have a day off. That night, as she lays on her bed waiting to be taken in Morpheus' arms, Aella relishes in the jitters of happiness that course through her veins.

She can't remember the last time she was so impatient for tomorrows.

DAY 1

To say the San Diego Fighter Weapons School's campus is huge would be an understatement. Aella has been on plenty bases during her short naval aviator career, but they all pale in comparison with the three massive hangars standing ahead of her. Deeply rooted on these holy grounds, they serve as home for no less than 30 of the most powerful aircrafts ever designed in the world. Perched on her Triumph, Aella can't help but slow to a more moderate speed as she drives past them. She can feel her heart bouncing in joy at the sight of the F-14 Tomcats, F/A-18 Hornets and F-16 Fighting Falcons neatly aligned like pawns on a chessboard ready to be pressed into service.

Finally, the main buildings come into view. They house all the administration offices as well as lecture and conference rooms. Indeed, part of the Top Gun program takes place indoors (that is, not in a cockpit) as trainees are taught advanced combat strategy, theories of air-to-air and air-to-ground missions, and most painful of all, the riveting matters of astrophysics. In addition to their scientific knowledge and flying skills, the recruits will also be tested on their physical fitness.

That's what Aella dreads the most. While she could probably recite all of Newton's laws in her sleep and fly a supersonic twin-engine, variable-sweep wing fighter aircraft with an arm in a cast, she's positive the physical examination is what might give her the most trouble. Not that she's in bad shape. Obviously one has to be quite fit to be able to handle 25 tons of titanium rocketed at more than 1500mph. But alas, the minimum requirements generated by the State for the final physical examination have yet to be adapted to female dispositions.

The military field has definitely still plenty of room left for improvement when it comes to women's interests...

Two men in their service uniforms are casually conversing in the parking lot when Aella pulls up with her Triumph. One seems to be in the middle of a thrilling story judging by his gesticulating limbs, while the other listens to him, cigarette pinched between his lips. As soon as the latter's eyes fall on Aella though, he interrupts his friend with two taps on his torso. The shock on his face quickly turns into a condescending smirk as his eyes shamefully scan Aella from head to toe. His friend turns around intrigued and it's not long before his features mirror the same irksome smug.

For a few seconds too many, Aella doesn't react. She simply stares at the jerks standing a few feet from her like they might be two very realistic-looking hallucinations. A sick jock her brain is playing on her by materializing ghosts from her past when she's least expecting them. Aella doesn't know who she's the most angry at: Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for looking at her like she's a hot commodity or herself because she'd actually thought it wouldn't happen here.

It takes all of her self-control and then some to keep her from rushing over and giving them a piece of her mind. Instead she just swallows back the crude remarks she's dying to throw at them and puts her uniform cap on. Maybe there weren't checking her out but the Triumph behind her instead. Maybe she just bumped into the two assholes of the program. Maybe the 13 other recruits will turn out to be actual decent human beings who acknowledge women's worth in the Navy and will treat her as an equal. Aella tries to keep the positive thoughts coming as she heads towards the main building for the induction speech.

Still, she can't help the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The effervescence of the conference room is almost palpable as loud chatter and boisterous laughters bounce off its walls. Taking in the glorious sight of her fellow trainees, Aella already feels like an outsider. Easily distinguished by their uniform, they're all bantering like they've all known each other their entire life, even though the program hasn't officially started.

From afar she recognizes the two morons from the parking lot, sitting on tables as they're gathered around a balky blond man completely sprawled out on a chair with aviator sunglasses tucked in the front of his kaki shirt. Because of his lazy posture, he has to look up at his disciples but it is clear that he's the last person to be looked down on.

Aella already despises the narcissistic vibe he exudes. That disdainful and self-assured attitude which makes her want to rip his stupid head off. It's certainly not the first of his kind she's had to partially work with and sadly, it will definitely not be the last.

"Oi, Rex! How's it goin' man?" Another block yaps.

"Snyder," Rex chuckled. "'Was doin' good till ya ugly face showed up"

"Ah, 's not what the ladies say..." Snyder replies, completely unfazed by the playful dig made at him.

"That's cause you woo them drunk, you bastard." The whole group of them burst in laughters as Snyder rolls his eyes.

"Speaking of lass, I heard there was a bird joining the ranks with us? 'S up with that?"

Aella immediately stiffens as she hears the dreaded words. Ones that make it crystal clear she's gonna be the odd one out right from the start. Not to be mistaken, Aella takes great pride in being one of the very few female fighter pilots of the US Navy but all the self-confidence in the world couldn't amount to the loneliness she always feels on base. Amongst the 'mates', she's never more than a fellow recruit, watching from afar her colleagues' relationships blossoming from mere work affiliations to ones of brotherhood.

Finally making her way to the last seat available in the audience, Aella feels the energies in the room drastically shift. Voices are no longer clashing in rowdiness; instead, the air is charged by the intensity of the quiet stares following her silhouette. However, the silence is interrupted by the sound of a flirtatious whistle that does no wonder for her already-tested nerves. God does she hate men sometimes.

"Well, well, well...look at that guys. I think the eagle has landed its cute ass down."

Aella is about to pop a knuckle from how hard she's clenching her fists. How foolishly naive she was to believe that things would be different. That joining Top Gun with the 'best of the best' would give her solace from the incessant chauvinistic behaviors she'd been so used to. If anything, the prestige of their accomplishments has exacerbated the arrogant disposition of their ego-inflated character.

Aella knows better than to respond though. No matter how quick-witted the comeback, it never works in her favor. So once again, she just takes a deeper breath and settles in her seat facing forwards. She is saved from hearing more about her eagle ass by two impressive figures marching in the room towards the front. Postures straighten, smirks vanish and a de facto silence ensues at the officers' arrival. Respect is almost tangible in the air, and it has little to nothing to do with the plethora of decorations adorning their white uniforms, and everything to do with the aura of invincibility transpiring in their intimidating gaze.

"Gentlemen," one of them starts before tilting his head towards Aella and adding a soft "ladies." He then proceeds with a quick scan of the room. Years of experience standing on that very same stage have forged the unyielding yet somewhat benevolent eyes landed on the students' expecting faces.

"You were probably told that you were here because you are the best of the best. Well, let me set things straight: you're not. Not yet anyway. You might be lieutenants out there, but on these grounds, you are nothing but students. My job, is to make you unbeatable up there. Your job, is to trust me in doing so. That means no challenging orders and no cocky attitude or any funny business. If you respect that, you might have your name on one of these plaques in 5 weeks. Until then, work your hardest. My name is Aaron Berks and I will be your Commander. Everyone, welcome to Top Gun."

Commander Berks offers a light smile to his audience, and Aella has a feeling it's not a sight she will be privy to very often. She likes him though. He seems intransigeant but wise, proud but not arrogant and no matter how cold his exterior, he has the warmth of a master who looks after his apprentice. A caring facet that resembles that of fatherhood, and Aella knows she'll be able to trust Berks just like he asked in his introduction speech.

After a brief silence, the class' attention is once again captured by one of the officer. Taller and bulkier, this one is definitely missing that fatherly vibe Aella is so found of. "Gentlemen, I am Lieutenant Commander Wayne Rogers, I will teach you the art of naval strategy in flight combat alongside Commander Berks. You will also have the pleasure to have me whip your asses in physical testing. As you know, Top Gun is structured around 3 ranges of expertise, namely: naval strategy both in theory and practice, advanced astrophysics knowledge and physical training. Needless to say, you will be tested in more ways than one. And just a heads-up, I don't do no favor. To anyone."

Aella cringes for a second as she wonders if there is any implicit lines to read behind Lieutenant Rogers' clipped tone. She already dreads the time she will have to spend under his teaching. She doesn't have the time to dwell on it though, before Rogers resumes his speech. "Anyway, enough with the pretty words, let's go over the program. As you know, the 16 of you will form 8 crews who will be confronting each other and us instructors to master advanced dogfighting tactics. Each of the 25 missions you will be assigned during the program will earn you points. Your aptitudes in physical training will also earn you point, as well as your results in astrophysics evaluations. I'm sure you can guess who wins the Top Gun trophy at the end of the program. Bear in mind, that all instructors have the right to deduct points from your score should they deem your actions or behavior disrespectful, underserving or quite simply unacceptable. On that note, welcome to Top Gun, class dismissed."

As soon as Lieutenant Rogers voices the discharging words, the room is once again caught in a rambunctious nebula of clacks and clatters. Everyone is making their way out when the commander's voice transcends the ongoing commotion; steady and resonant.

"Officers Styles and Lonethorne."

Aella's brows immediately wrinkle as she recognizes her last name. Turning around, she sees Commander Berks intently looking at her as if beckoning her over. Obediently she makes her way up to the front of the room where Berks hasn't moved an inch since the beginning of the induction. Soon she realizes she's being followed by a tall lanky man. His face, objectively handsome, doesn't seem to show any emotion but Aella doesn't have much time to further study his features as she finally reaches her commander.

"I wanted to welcome you both personally given the circumstances. Styles, you have my support and condolences. Lieutenant Evans was a very fine man and gifted flyer." Aella is a bit thrown off by the declaration. It takes her an extra second to figure out the reason of her presence for this discussion. Once she does, her attention is immediately drawn to the silent man standing next to her, his face still not displaying any feelings, as though his skin was made of cold marble.

"Harry, this is Aella Lonethorne. Her former chief has nothing but praises to say about her flying skills. She will be your partner for the next 5 weeks." A nod and the brief connection of his emeralds to Aella's sapphires seems to be all the assertion elicited from Harry. No handshake, no hello, not even the pucker of a brow. Commander Berks might as well have announced the refectory's lunch menu, the lad's reaction would have been the same.

"Miss Lonethorne, it's a pleasure to have you on base, I have no doubts you two will achieve great things together." It is such a relief for Aella to realize her first impression of Berks was spot on. He is the kind of manager that leads with strength in his fists but encouraging lyrics on the edge of his lips. There is no hint of condescension fueled by the power high of his status, coloring the tone of his voice. It's something Aella has seen a few times. Pleasant comrades turned into aloof leaders full of bitterness from their years of submission and laden by the hierarchy's expectations. Commander Berks never yielded to that pressure though, it was clear in his wholesome nature.

"Thank you Commander, it's a real honor." Aella responds in genuineness.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. See you both on the tarmac" he exclaims with a smile before making his way out. Berks departure leaves enough room for tension to settle between the newfound partners like a third interlocutor taking the warmed place of their superior.

Harry is still keeping mum, unfocused eyes staring somewhere far off on the floor while his mind appeared to be wandering the secret passages of never-never land. It freaks the hell out of Aella though she doesn't show it. They are a team now. They're supposed to trust, rely on each other and have the other's back no matter what. Yet, she doesn't even know the sound of his voice and it doesn't seem like he's gonna give her the time of day anytime soon.

Aella is about to speak up when Harry suddenly shakes his head out of its hypnotic trance. For a second she thinks he's gonna initiate conversation himself but instead he just tilts his head in her general direction and rasps a weak 'see you' before storming off the room. Aella is left in total disarray, she doesn't comprehend why he's acting like a 3 year-old running off because he's scared to say hi to the postman. Is it because she's not what he expected in a partner? God she hopes not. He doesn't strike her as a misogynistic prick, didn't really show any sign of disgust or clear animosity. But then again he was impossible to read.

After exiting the teaching building and mounting her precious Triumph, Aella feels the dread resurfacing. It is such a big contrast to how she felt when she left this morning. All the thrill and elation that had bubbled in the pits of her stomach just evaporated into disillusion, leaving a fog of uncertainty in Aella's frenzied mind. This was supposed to be a drama-free experience; a chance to be recognized and treated with respect.

Instead she got barely acknowledged.

The music coming out of Godspeed's is so resoundingly loud Aella can feel the bass line thumping through her whole body. Standing across the street from the entrance, she's still hesitating joining in the merrymaking even though she can hear the spirits calling out her name. Despite the crispiness of the air, a few rowdy souls are camping out front, obviously warmed over by the substance in their glass and the nicotine stick between their lips.

The dodgy pub never lacks in visitors no matter how threadbare the furniture, tacky the decoration and questionable the sanitation prove to be. Truth be told, the popularity of the place can be explain by one and sole reason: it is, lo and behold, the only bar on base. A fact that implies 99% of its customer base works in the US Navy, and thus explains why one could usually count on one hand the number of people dressed in day-to-day clothes.

Bracing herself, Aella finally makes her way inside the bar. The smell of booze and fries immediately invades her nostrils but she pays it no mind. Instead she takes in her surroundings from the swaying of hips on the torrid dance floor to tokens passionately thrown at a table with a pair of aces following. The sound of glasses clinking blends with that of drunken laughters and even drunker squawks. It's nothing but good times and pent-up stress release, and for a moment Aella is really glad she decided to show up. She was told Induction's Rave was not to be skipped.

Unfortunately, as she heads for the bar, Aella's eyes fall upon a few familiar yet loathsome faces. It appears the infamous Rex and his phony clique didn't want to miss out on the festivities either. Much to Aella's dismay, they are all huddled around the counter monopolizing the bartender's attention and just like that, she knows a relaxing time is not in her cards for tonight. There is no way she can walk out of this with both a drink in her hand and her composure intact. It would be too easy.

Strategically, she waits till the barman is done with them before voicing her request as inconspicuously as she can. "May I have a Vodka Martini, please?" she asks just as the bartender lifts his eyes from the counter he was wiping. She originally went for a pint but somehow she had an inkling it wouldn't quite suffice. The guy nods and leaves to mix her precious elixir but just as she thinks she might make it through unscathed, the obnoxious voice she has come to strongly despise cuts through the pub's damp air.

"Gotta stop trying to play James Bond, darling. S'just not for you." Snickers. "Now, James Bond girl on the other hand, you definitely have the proper assets for that." Once again, every guy within Rex's arm radius bursts into insipid laughter as the mockery tumbled out of his mouth. She doesn't have to look his way to picture the disgusting smirk he must be sporting. Jerk.

From the corner of her eye, Aella recognizes the lonesome lad sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a Bourbon with tinted cheeks and glossy irises. There is no doubt he's in a slightly inebriated state but his participative chuckle still stings. Maybe even more so than Rex's offensive words for Harry is supposed to be her closest ally. She doesn't expect him to jump to her defense, wouldn't want him to anyway, but she's profoundly disappointed he would find such humor in someone degrading her that way. The thought angers her so much, she doesn't realize Harry is actually showing some kind of emotion at last. It's not the one she wanted anyhow; not when it's at her expense.

She's handed her drink before Rex speaks up again. "You think you can just sweep in and fight the bad guys with your pretty hair and 5 pounds muscles? I mean, come on darling, you're not meant for the job." She'd started to walk away at first but Rex's lousy rant makes her halt in a sudden. "Just sit and look pretty like the others. Or fucking teach. You know what they say, right? Those who can't, teach... Anything but the fucking Navy, yeah? We have enough wannabes as it is."

Deep breath. Tight fist. Down the Vodka. Then she turns around and marches up to him, armed with daggers in her eyes and a punch away from feeling better. She doesn't hit him though. Has more dignity and self-control than that. "You should really consider shutting your goddamn mouth before I show you just what I can or can't do." Aella's tone is cold; colder than the marble of Harry's face from earlier that day.

As she expects, they don't take her seriously and giggles erupt all around her. "Darling, I really wouldn't mind," is what he replies with a suggestive lip bite and a smug that rivals her scowl in intensity. He's dangerously toying with her last nerve and he knows it. Deliberately exploits it in the hopes of seeing her explode and then crumble into pieces. That's how Aella knows she has the upper hand. She knows how guys like him work, what gets them going and their tactics to achieve that, but Rex has no clue what she's like. He's deluding himself into thinking he's pushing her break-down button when in reality he's in for something else.

Nobody knows that yet, except maybe Harry.

As a quiet and incredibly guarded individual, Harry proves to be a tremendous observer. It might come off as standoffish though he doesn't mean to, but those who matter know and have accepted just how introverted his nature is. He knows he probably should have made an effort and better impression on his new copilot but the wound from his best friend's loss is still too fresh to be bothered. They'll get to talk soon enough anyway, is what he thought. Plus she didn't really go out of her way to make an impression herself, did she?

Now though, observing the sour interaction from afar, Harry's starting to think differently. He shrugged at Rex's crude remarks, already used to the block's insolence and admittedly amused at the childish antics. But as he becomes more attentive to Aella's shifting stance, it is obvious to him that she's not a person to ever take shit from anybody.

His suspicions are proved right when Aella slowly closes the few steps between her and Rex until her eyes level with his. "Oh Rex. The thing with guys like you, is you feel powerful because power was handed to you on a silver fucking platter." All the while talking, she moves to remove his hold from his glass. "I could have pity for you, really. You think you're good; you must even think you're the best but you're nothing more than a selfish privileged opportunistic prick who feels entitled to walk over anyone who won't fucking bow down before you." Then she chucks the rest of his Whiskey in one swallow and places the empty glass back on top of the counter next to them.

"Oh yeah?" Rex smirks as he watches her face closely, casually leaning on the bar. It works in her favor as he fails to notice her hand creeping around his own. Then the next thing he knows is a tremendous throb shooting from the joint between his thumb and index, all the way through his arm and up to his neck. The pain is seizing and has him doubled up like it is suddenly to painful to even stand straight.

Aella has never been more glad to learn a thing or two about pressure points.

"Yeah. And I might be smaller than you or less of a weightlifter than you are, but I can still bring you down wherever and whenever I want to. Don't you forget that." He's almost kneeling by now, arm twisted in a weird angle from where she's still applying pressure on his hand. Rex's acolytes seem to have lost their voice and giggles as they're all taking in the sudden reversal of the situation. They have probably never seen Rex in such a submissive position, hence the dazed expression of stupor plastered on their faces.

Aella finally releases the whimpering man at her feet. She's about to make her way out but she stops herself. "Oh and one more thing. You're cocky, and vile, and despicable. And one day, probably too late, you'll realize your arrogance is what will fail you."

Satisfied with her last words, Aella looks up at the scene around her. Most people are still engrossed in what they were doing when she first came in, oblivious to the whole confrontation. Then just as she turns around, her eyes catch Harry's broad frame, as though some magnetic field was coaxing them to his radiating force. She doesn't delay her departure though. Her steps barely falter on the way out but her mind is left in a whirlwind of thoughts.

He was smiling. Shy and in the corner of his lips. But genuine and almost knowing, like he'd been rooting for her the whole time. And really, for Harry to be on her side is everything Aella hopes for.

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Moon City Don't Judge - Chapter 1

1983, NSAS Headquarters, Edinburgh, Scotland

“So this is for the newest Jamestown mission, then? What number are these Yankees on now?”

“Jamestown 85.”

“Oh, well I sure am flattered to be allowed in this late in the game. What did they tell you?”

“They’re trying to look international after the Russians had that mission with the French.”

Heather McKay snorted at that, taking the folder from Marcus and flicking through the pictures of the recent mission that had been broadcast on TV for the whole world to see just how friendly Russia were now.

The image of two astronauts with contrasting flags on their arms made her smirk a little. Since unilaterally declaring independence after World War Two, Scotland had become a far more passive nation, leaving larger countries like the US and the Soviet Union to sort out their own scraps unless they were absolutely needed to step in.

“So, they want to make nice with a passive country.”

“Exactly. I’ve been chatting with Molly Cobb, she’s head of astronauts now over at Houston, expecting one Mr McKay, second Scot in space.”

Heather laughed, nodding as she set the folder down and grabbed her water bottle from its resting spot on Marcus’ desk.

“I thought that was just a trick we played on rookie engineers and astronauts, not seasoned professionals.”

Marcus rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and shrugging.

“Messing with Americans is just as fun, even if they are fellow astronauts.”

“Seekers of independence from the crown playing pranks on each other. How mature.” Heather grinned, lifting her jacket from the back of her chair and shrugging it onto her shoulders.

The folder was still open on the table as she gave it one more scan, sighing.

“That’s early as hell to be rising, Marcus.”

“You can sleep when you’re dead, you know that better than anyone, astronaut.”

“Sure do, desk jockey.” The younger woman smiled at him when he gave her a deprecating look, offering him a fist bump as a goodbye.

“Have fun in Moon City, kid.”

Flying to America commercially felt like being stuck in a tin can for hours on end, though Heather was sure if she’d tried to fly it alone, she would have fallen asleep and crashed by now. She spent the time with her seat leaned back a fraction and a personnel file in her lap for the people she’d be working with. She knew Margo from a few years before when she had advised her on how to deal with a young Aleida Rosales and they had kept in touch since, so she passed by her file with ease and moved onto the astronaut section without realising she’d skipped the profile of her newest colleague, Molly Cobb.

With so many names to memorise and personal facts to store away in her head to be used at a later date, Heather barely had the energy to look at Cobb’s profile, her closing eyes skimming the information about the death of Wubbo Ockels before finally shutting as she passed out from exhaustion.

“Mrs McKay? Mrs McKay, we’ve arrived at Houston Intercontinental, it’s time to depart the plane.”

Heather came around to find a made-up flight attendant peering at her and shaking her shoulder gently, lacquered brown eyes focused on hers.

She flinched briefly at the sight before nodding when she took in the woman’s words, sliding out from her seat and looking at her once she’d grabbed her carry on from the overhead bins.

“What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon, Mrs McKay, you’ve gained six hours.”

“Not Mrs, please, I’m not married.” Heather smiled kindly at the woman, nodding when she excused herself and exiting the plane into the fresh air.

At least, she had hoped it would be fresh. Instead, it felt like the Sahara compared to Edinburgh; the heat turned right up in Texas during June. It made her glad the man who put her through security knew who she was and went out of his way to help her through quickly.

She had a feeling that would be a rare thing in a country where nationalism was rampant. If you weren’t an American in the United States, you weren’t worth anyone’s time.

Luggage claim took longer than security for once, chewing the Scot out fifteen minutes later back into the hot Texan sun where a man in a secret service type suit stood beside an entirely black car with tinted windows.

“Miss Mickey?”

“It’s McKay. You would think with a fancy car service, the ability to say my name correctly would be included in the package.”

“Apologies, ma’am. I’ve been instructed to take you straight to the hotel.”

Heather nodded, giving him her suitcase and guitar to load into the trunk before sitting in the back of the car, relaxing into the comfortable leather after hours upon hours in a spiny airplane seat.

With tinted windows surrounding her, the sun was blocked out to make the rest of the journey easier with less heat, so she was fine to actually talk to the driver when he took off from the airport.

“I didn’t expect so much security around my arrival. It’s almost as if I’m a cosmonaut.”

“No, ma’am, the president was only concerned that the Russians may attack you to start a war with your passive nation.”

She sighed in the back seat, shaking her head as she leaned against the headrest behind her.

“I don’t believe they would. Scotland is no enemy of the USSR.”

“I meant no offense, ma’am, only to say that your head of state agrees with the president. He knows the danger too.”

Heather rolled her eyes at the mention of the Scottish leader, remembering the twelfth head of state from a meeting a few months before. She had much preferred the man who saw her off into space six years before.

“The head of state’s a misogynistic prick.”

The driver didn’t say anything in response, only smiling to her in the rear-view mirror which she found amusing. He obviously agreed but chances were there was a wire in the car to make sure he didn’t criticise his own government. How confident that made her feel about being in one of the two most controversial countries on the planet.

She’d researched the distance between the airport and the space centre before she left Scotland, wanting to make sure she knew her surroundings and not exactly thankful that there was an hour between them.

She had a feeling she’d be relying on her driver a lot during this trip if she were to get anywhere other than the space centre.

The rest of the journey was quiet, what Heather would call typical American scenery of square buildings and grey roads passing them by until they finally reached the hotel. She could see the space centre in all its glory across the road, large and looming over the water beside it.

“Much less attractive than NSAS headquarters, wouldn’t you say?”

“No pretty castles to convert in this country, ma’am. We make do with concrete and glass.”

“Looks like a bunch of grey shoeboxes to me.” Heather scoffed as she took the suitcase and instrument from him, slipping on her sunglasses and hat to avoid the sun above them.

“Maybe you can give them some design tips tomorrow, ma’am.”

She nodded, grabbing her backpack from the seat and throwing it over her shoulder with her guitar case, following him into the hotel once the car was locked and sifting in her bag for the hotel information Marcus had given her so she could check in.

“I have a copy of your booking if you can’t find your own.” She looked up at her driver to find a fresh sheet of paper in his hand and grinned, taking it and handing it to the receptionist when they reached the counter.

“Fucking bless you, boy.”

“Of course, ma’am. If that’s everything you need?”

“Yes. No, sorry, do you know where the Outpost is? My head of astronaut affairs gave me that name for the local pub, but I’m all turned around here.”

“The Outpost is across the road and five blocks to the left, Miss Mickey. You can’t miss the sign.” The receptionist spoke up before the driver could, causing the other woman to nod, taking off her glasses now that they were inside and smiling at both of them.

“Thank you. Kid, I meant to ask what your name is. I hate to have you driving me around when I don’t know who you are.”

“Liam Russett, ma’am, at your service and surely older than you so there’s no need to call me kid.”

Heather snorted at that, shaking her head as she hooked her glasses on the collar of her shirt.

“Well, if that’s true, you should get yourself a new job rather than driving around child astronauts.”

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am, really. You have my number for when you need driven somewhere. Have a nice night, Miss McKay.”

“You too, Liam.” She waved to him and grinned when he waved back, turning to talk to the receptionist.

“Hi, sorry for making you wait.”

“I’m used to it, don’t fret. Okay, Miss Mickey,”

That pronunciation wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“…you’re booked in for the next week and two weeks after your return, courtesy of NASA, but you can stay for longer after your mission if you should wish to set that up. Here’s your key and if you’re joining us for the full breakfast tomorrow, we start serving at 8am.” The woman behind the desk smiled kindly, getting another bright smile from Heather as she shifted her bags into the elevator to the side of reception.

“I’ll probably catch a donut at the centre tomorrow, but I will keep the breakfast thing in mind for another day! Thank you!” She called over her shoulder as the doors shut and she started going up to the sixth floor.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt like a cat dragged through a hedge backwards. Her hair was sticking to the side of her face with the sweat, the hat plastering part of her fringe to her forehead when she took it off. Her cheeks were red from the sun too and it occurred to her that she’d need sun-cream if she was going to be stuck in America for longer than a day.

As she stepped out onto the right floor and shifted open her hotel room door with a bit of struggle, the phone on the table started ringing.

Heather groaned, shutting the door behind her once her stuff was inside and picking up the call quickly, putting the receiver to her ear.

“Heather McKay, who’s calling, please?”

“Heather, you got there okay, good. How was the plane trip?”

“Hell, I’d honestly prefer a fucking Saltire shuttle.” The young woman expressed to Marcus on the other side as she flopped down on the mattress, glad for the comfort.

Her fellow astronaut laughed on the other end of the call, leaning back on his own armchair.

“Christ, worse than Saltire? Aren’t I glad I volunteered you for this mission and not myself?”

Heather rolled her eyes, staring out of the window that stretched her wall. The sky was a perfect blue with the sun shining down on the city, reminding her of decent summer days at home when she’d kick up sand on the beach. It was a relaxing memory to think about after the long journey.

“Yeah, aren’t you fucking lucky? I’m gonna head for the Outpost tonight with my guitar, try and make friends before I show up tomorrow.”

“Your social skills have come a long way since I met you.”

“And as soon as our leader and their leader aren’t bastards, I’ll be much more sociable!” She sighed, sitting up and going to the window to look across the roofs of the shoeboxes across the road.

“I don’t believe that but you’re Molly’s problem for the next month, not mine.”

Heather grinned at his words. She knew what he meant. Out of the first two Scots in space, she was far more foul-mouthed and quick-witted than Marcus, and it had definitely been a problem in the past.

“Don’t you worry, Marky, I’ll make you proud. Say hi to Laura and James for me.” She bid him goodbye before hanging up, returning the phone to its holder, and skimming through the tourist information book in an attempt at finding a place to eat after the hellish plane ride.

In the end, she had settled for a burger from the van outside NASA headquarters, sitting on a stone wall in front of some flower beds and enjoying watching so many engineers and scientists pass by, chatting away about their work.

Science was one half of her busy life and she loved it. Being at NASA was just the cherry on top of her career now, even if she wasn’t a fan of the politics the agency let itself get caught up in.

She listened to the chatter until her burger was a mere wrapper crushed in her hands and was surprised by the time on the clock outside the hotel. She sure hadn’t realised she’d been sitting there for that many hours but keeping a low profile and being jetlagged clearly passed the time faster than she thought.

Heading back up to her room, Heather changed into a fresh t-shirt and flannel before wandering over to the Outpost bar once she ran a brush through her hair. She could feel people eyeing her as soon as she walked in, clearly sticking out like a sore thumb as someone who they’d never seen before.

No one recognised her yet, thankfully. She didn’t need “socialist Scot scum” comments when she just wanted to drink and play her guitar. She let herself look at the astronaut souvenirs in the glass case by the door then approached the bar, smiling at the woman she certainly recognised as Karen Baldwin from the file about her husband.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?”

“A dram of your best Scots whisky, please.”

“Taste of home coming right up. Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m new, start tomorrow. Thought I’d show my face and try to make friends before going to the moon with this lot.”

Karen nodded, the recognition clicking in her head as she slid the whisky to the younger woman.

“McKay, right? Ed was talking about you. First Scottish woman astronaut, and you changed the law on gay rights, didn’t you? Pretty ballsy.”

Heather shrugged, sipping her whisky and relishing in the burn going down her throat for a moment before speaking.

“And yet folks here in Texas would probably see me hung for it, at the very least fined 500 dollar for kissing a lady in public.”

“Some people never want to let go of their traditions, we’ll get there.” Karen smiled, nodding to the guitar strapped to her back with a slight grin.

“If you’re looking to make friends, you should play. They like music.” She told her with a wink before moving along to serve the newest patron in the door.

The young Scot looked around the bar once before taking her advice, sitting at a table in the corner near the counter and starting to play.

“Ring of Fire, good idea.” Karen mouthed to her from the bar, praising her choice of an American song as the front door opened again, none other than Molly Cobb walking through it and smiling at Karen, giving a brief wave.

“A beer, please, Karen.”

“Love is a burning thing… and it makes, a fiery ring…”

She could feel eyes on her, practically every pair in the bar turning to look at her eventually while she played. Usually, the attention didn’t bother her but the distraction of feet approaching her made her fingers tremble slightly on the strings.

Heather didn’t like being such a close focus of attention. She was used to the crowd having boundaries, being on a stage or a higher platform where they couldn’t reach her, but as she finished the song a few minutes later with every person in the bar staring at her, she could feel a wave of nerves run through her.

Molly was right there, sitting right there with her beer in hand and sunglasses pushing her hair back from her face, blue eyes focused on Heather.

“You’re good.”

“I practice.”

“Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Heather laughed in a light tone, strumming the cords of her guitar slightly. This woman had no idea that they were colleagues, that they had first woman of her nation in space in common. She was looking right through her.

“Oh, I just like the astronaut knick-knacks at this bar, plus I thought I’d try to impress the great Molly Cobb with my playing. Did you like it?” She tilted her head, acting as if she were simply an awestruck citizen and not reporting to duty for the woman the next day.

“Well colour me impressed, though that may just be the alcohol.”

“I’d like to see you do better. Your skills seem singular to flying.” She smirked, wondering how long she could get away with her secret identity.

Taking another sip of her whisky, Heather watched the other woman over the lip of her glass. She sure looked a lot more attractive in person compared to the photo in her information folder, but she wouldn’t act on that fact. It would put them both in danger for her to flirt in public here.

Even friends could turn on Molly if she got that close to another woman, Heather knew that.

“Yeah, and what other skills can you boast, sweetheart? Lemme guess, you can play two instruments.”

Oh, you bitch.

“First impressions aren’t your thing, are they? Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll report for duty first thing tomorrow morning in your office, even if you’re a smug bitch. My name’s Heather McKay, by the way.” She held out her hand for Molly to shake as an introduction and smiled kindly when the older woman sighed, shaking her hand.

“Heather McKay, first Scottish woman in space. Marcus told me you were a Mr.”

“Wee trick we like to play on new recruits from other countries, he thought it would be funny to play it on a Yank.” Heather downed what remained of her whisky before ignoring Molly and waving to Karen as she left the bar.

“See you tomorrow, boss.”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Worthwhile

Summery: After math of battle between Steve, Bucky and Tony. Before arriving in Wakanda. Steve x Bucky x Y/n. Some angsty moments

Word Count: 2307

Done for a challenge by bigbandbombshell. Song BTSK by ms mr and picture the bottom northern lights landscape. 

I found you in pieces you'd been torn apart A million one reasons to end before you start But deep down I knew No matter what in the end, it'd be me and you

Big teeth small kiss I turn to wax and melt like this Melt like this

~ BTSK Lyrics

Zemo had done it

Dismantled the team. 

You had been there when Tony saw the video, Buckys pain crossing over his face when Tony realized it was because of the Winter Solider his parents were murdered. It was cold hearted assassination, as The Winter Solider was known for. No survivors. A stain on Buckys soul you doubted he would ever come to terms with, Steves breath was baited waiting for the drop.

“Tony Tony”

“Did you know”

“I didn't know it was him” 

“DONT BULLSHIT ME ROGERS, DID YOU KNOW?”

Steve paused, then with a single answer he admitted the truth. “Yes”

And thats what resulted to where you were now. Steve had gotten you two out, with damages. Both men were brutally beat all over from Tonys grief, yourself sporting your own scrapes. But he dismantled you early, a hit to your head threatening your senses for now. Holing up in some no name motel in a nearby Siberian town, you woke to find yourself in a dimly lit room, two double beds, shitty wood panneling, dusty curtains blocking out the glare of light, Steve and Bucky looming over you to get you to awaken.

“Ugh, what happened?” Your hand braced against your forehead as you moved to a sit, dropping your face into your hands, as your elbows braced on your knees. A wave of nausea washed over you, threatening to over take you but then it dulled to a numb sensation. Steve squatted in front of you, looking you over momentarily with a grasp of his hands on your face making you focus on his searching eyes.

“You look like your going to be okay.” You snorted in thanks to his assessment, your fingers now tenderly probing to find where you were hit, wincing at the thump. Leave it to Tony to leave a bump on your head. Not your finest moment. Bucky lowered next to you on the edge of the bed, you leaned a bit against his right arm and looked at the two men. “We took out the Ironman suit, Tony wasn't going to stop. Zemo was taken into custody, T’Challa must have followed us when we left Germany.” 

Your eyes turn to Bucky, and you don’t remark on his arm, the man looked defeated and exhausted. Dark marks under his eyes and blossoming bruises starting to form over whatever bare skin showed. You could only imagine the condition of his chest and back. Tonys suit was top of the line defense and weaponry, even against an enhanced. You move to a stand, going into the bathroom, running some hot water in the sink and splash it against your face, cleaning off any of the dried blood. You can hear Steve remark to Bucky that he would be back. Where he was going off to, you didn't know, but trusted whatever he had in mind. Grabbing a towel. You notice that much of Buckys marks are from where he hadn't cleaned up, so you grab some stuff from the limited bathroom and approach him. 

“Let me help you? Should probably see what else needs to be patched up.”

You offer as you approach him, his eyes are shadowed as he looked up “No i’m alright. Don’t worry about me”

You werent gonna give him a choice though, cupping his face and tilting it up so you can get a better look, shaking head. “Sorry, I really wasn't gonna give to much of a choice Buck.”

He didn't argue, remained still as you cleaned up the cuts, but he remarked. “You know that bump to the head didn't change your demeanor much.” You dabbed at his eyebrow carefully. 

“I got a hard head. Its going to take more then a smack to the temple to change who I am. You on the other hand Barnes are in need of stitches.” 

Pushing you back lightly, he got up to go to the bathroom mirror, tilting his face this way and that, shrugging “Eh, I've dealt with worst. I will be fine.” Sure enough that made you sigh. You haven't known Bucky Barnes for long, but he never seemed to think he was worth the effort. 

Steve is guiding the quinjet with the coordinates programmed into the dash, Bucky is sitting across from you “Whats going to happen to your friends?” Bucky asked after being silent for so long. You lift your head to look at him, knowing the sacrifice they all made to get here. “Whatever it is, I will deal with it” Steve says heavily, knowing that the team were now considered enemies and in a maximum gaurded facility. But when Captain says he will deal with it, you know the matter is closed. Bucky flexes his metal arm, its a part of him, but foreign, you see in his face he is regarding it as something that makes him less worthwhile, less of a good man. A perfect solider. “I don’t know if Im worth all this Steve.” Your jaw clenches, you had spent months studying Sgt James  Buchanan “Bucky”  Barnes. His time during the Howling Commandos, the entire time he was in service. Many a night Steve told you stories that could never be found in any paperwork. To see this man think of himself as anything less then worthwhile, bullshit. Steve whipped his head around at this. “What you did all those years, That wasn’t you. You didn’t have a choice” Buckys jaw is set now, completely unforgiving of what was done to him, the testing, brainwashing, torture and whom it made him become. “I know.... But I did it” 

His gaze went to his missing arm, and he cussed under his breath. “This on the other hand is gonna be far more difficult to deal with.” You leaned in against the bathrooms door frame, Your gaze caught his in the mirror, and you smiled at him. “We will figure it out Bucky, this cant be the first time you’ve lost your arm?” He rubbed at the shoulder where the metal and body connected. 

“Actually, it is. Titanium doesn't necessarily wear out. I've never had cause to have it changed out, even after all the experiments.” He sighed as he pushed away from the sink and you stepped back into the hotel room. It was then Steve came back to the room “Alright, this is the plan. T’Challa is going to help us. Being war criminals now, we need to go into hiding, and Wakanda is in his control, borders are up against the rest of the world. You and Bucky are going there. And with the Vibranium.... your arm can be replaced.” Although minutes ago Bucky had seemed upset about the loss of his limb, he showed no emotion to this. Again reverting back to the not worth the effort vibe. “The King isnt out to kill me any longer?” Bucky sounded a bit doubtful, but Steve gave a shake of his head.

“No, he knows the truth now, that you had nothing to do with the bombing.” Steve continued with the plan. “There’s an SUV outside for you two, and heres where you need to rendezvous with T’Challas jet.” handing you a piece of paper, this is the moment you held up a hand as if asking a question, and his brow cocked at you. “Is that necessary Y/n?” 

“Uh yea, since when did CAPTAIN AMERICA STEAL CARS?” 

“Nazi Germany, okay. Its a necessary skill back then, and no I’m not teaching you.”

Bucky grinned, finally, hearing the two of you and whispered loudly to you. “Don;t worry, I will teach you later.” You made a fist pump in victory, smirking at the Captain. Just as quickly as Bucky lightened up, he got serious. “Your going after them Steve.” Steve glanced over the room, but they hadn't had any supplies with them, just Steves captain suit and shield. Underneath it he had on civilian clothes. Hell you were still in the stealth suit you typically dressed in on missions. Steve just looked at Bucky with a set resolve.. 

“I have to. They were only there cause I asked them to be. And we are now considered war criminals, the quicker we can go into hiding the better. I can get in that facility with Natashas help, shes already getting the location.” Honestly you couldn't disagree with his plan. As much as you wanted to be there to get Sam and the rest of them out, you knew the more he had to keep accounted for, the harder it would be for Steve. And Natasha, well this is what she did. She was all about stealth and secrets. Often when the Black Widow was noticed, it was to late. “Okay were all clear on whats happening Y/n and Buck?”

It was hours later, You and Bucky had been driving since leaving the hotel, leaving behind the small village areas and going back out onto the tundra. It would be inconspicuous area for a Wakanda Jet to land, unseen by eyes that could get that info to authorities. You had made yourself comfortable in the passenger seat, watching the passing landscape. It was already starting to get dark, leaving the inner cab in the shadows at this point. You really should say something, Bucky had been so quiet the entire ride, jaw set as if he had been clenching his teeth.

“What are you thinking Buck?” 

His eyes never left the road. His hand clenched tightly around the wheel. “thinking about what a shit show this has turned into. All of this because of me. Steve shouldn't have ever come for me.” 

“What? Bucky I’m calling that bullshit” your arms folding over your chest. You had to, hearing him was making you anger now, wanting just reach right over and throttle that man. If the roles were reversed, you know he would have gone head first with disregard for his safety for Steve. You hated all of them, all the organizations who changed Bucky into this man who couldn't see anything worthwhile about himself. 

He rolled his shoulder. “You asked Y/n, You know for damn sure Steve wouldn't be known as a war criminal right now if he just stayed out of it. Or any of you either. Not signing those accords, fine. Thats standing behind your convictions, and understandable. But coming to save me. No, it wasn't worth that.” 

At this point, you don’t even have the words to explain to him how wrong he was. In between a point in crying since you were tired from the days past events and now this. More then you were willing to just let slide. You sputter out “James  Barnes, pull this fucken car over. RIGHT. NOW” Buckys eyes widen in shock at this outburst, he hit the brake, bringing the SUV to a stand still in the middle of the road. Your heart rate is thumping heavily in your chest at the rolling tension between you, and you turn in the seat to face him. 

“Y/n jesus christ, whats wrong?” He looked over his shoulder at the backseat, see if anything was wrong, out the windows and back at you. He noticed the color in your face was heightened and your eyes flashed at him in anger. 

“Words will never get through your thick skull will they Barnes. No matter what any of us say. I mean...” Your hands go up in the air, exasperated. Yes, Bucky had been traumatized over the years, and you should be more understanding. But today, your nerves were frayed, going into the unknown, you felt just at a loss in what to do. “You know what, forget trying to tell you, how about I just show you!” 

Catching him completely by surprise, your hands grasp the side of his face and you arch across the cars counsel. Your lips crush against his own, and in his surprise he doesn't move, doesn't respond for a few seconds. But then his arm snakes around your hip, dragging you over to settle in his lap, lips parting to dart tongues around each other. Each trying to take control of it. A hand braces against the back of your head, your hair tangling into his fingers grasping you, tilting it to clash teeth, bruise lips, inhale moans. Fuck James Buchanan  Barnes could kiss. 

Separating, a flush of color rise in Buckys cheeks as he looked away at getting caught in the rush, your hands dropping from his face to his shoulders, sighing and looking down yourself. Your own face hot, unsure of what to say now. He softly broke the silence, when his hand moved off the back of your head and dropped to your thigh folded  along his sides. “You know the last time I saw the northern lights like this was when I was with the Howling Commandos. I was getting in place to cover Steves back when he was about to bust into a bunker. It was just as green.” The warmth of his hand seeped into your thigh, you would not be able to forget the weight, the heat of him. “This though, might be a better way to remember them now.” 

A smile crosses your face as you lean back, the cars wheel pressing into your back as you glance out the window to see what he was talking about. The swirl of the green lights painted the sky into one of the most beautiful moments of your life. “You see, that’s all Bucky speaking. The Winter Solider, he wouldn't have found that in the midst of all this.” With a shift after a few moments, sliding back into your seat just as a jet sliced through the green waves covering the sky. “Put it back in drive Barnes, our rides here.” 

[joylee56]

We Have Snow for Solstice, Rather Too Much of It

A Rumbelle Secret Santa Gift for #Idesignedthefjords Summary: Solstice is approaching. Rumple is away and Belle is snowed in at the Dark Castle. Will he make it home for the holiday? And what is causing this mysterious and foul weather? ....... Snow fell from gray skies. At least Belle assumed they were still gray. Peeking through the curtains that she had reluctantly replaced on the windows when the temperature had dropped below freezing, she could only see white flakes descending. Well, the curtains that Rumplestiltskin had replaced. Since she fell from the ladder while taking down the curtains she had been forbidden from climbing anything higher than her waist, “Have to protect my investment, Dearie. Might not be there to catch you next time.” Dropping the curtains back in place she sighed and returned to the chair she had pulled up close to the fire. The blizzard had started shortly after Rumplestiltskin had left with the Hatter. They were headed for another realm. One where an evil wizard had raised an army of Orcs. Apparently Rumple was going to trade some magical potions which allowed the user to determine if someone was under the influence of the evil wizard for an elvish blade which gave the bearer endurance ‘beyond the scope of man’. “Which I interpret to mean at least as much as your average elf.” Rumple had told her. “And no, you may not come with me. We’re going into the middle of a war zone. I would have thought you’d have had enough to those.” She had actually. Although it would have been interesting to see an entire community of elves. So she had packed several days rations for Rumple and Jefferson and waived them on their way. That was a fortnight and a half ago. She was getting very concerned. In this weather it was not surprising that the driver from the village who made the weekly delivery of supplies had not been able to get up the mountain road that led to the Dark Castle. The larder was well enough stocked with staples that she was not going to run out of food any time soon. The menu was growing a trifle repetitive, but having lived on short rations during the war with the Ogres she was certainly not going to complain about having to make do with dried fruit rather than cream on her morning porridge. What concerned her was that the Castle had started to cut back on the fires it kept going. Normally she found them blazing away in any room she happened to wander into. Over the last week though the fires had decreased to three. One in the Great Hall, the kitchen oven and a small blaze lit only in the morning when she awoke and when she went up to bed in the bedroom she now shared with Rumple. She moved to the master suite after her nearly disastrous return from her run in with the Evil Queen. She would light a candle this Solstice in thanks that she had been able to able to make him understand that she had not been trying to steal his power with the kiss, but had been duped by Regina. If he had not listened she suspected things could have gone very badly. Now she wore a golden armband that kept her kisses (and other activities) from stealing away his power. It was not lost on her that the armband had been made to resembled the ribbon ties the people in these lands used in their binding ceremonies. She hoped her candle would not be the only fire they had left this Solstice. Despite the way the castle was cutting back on fires the wood pile along the wall of the snow covered kitchen garden did not seem to be running low. It renewed regularly through magic. It appeared that the Castle itself was conserving magic for some reason. Belle had no idea whether the Castle operated off some supply of magic of its own or whether Rumple kept it going directly. If the former it might mean that it was conserving because this blizzard was putting a strain on its ability to keep up with the cold and so it was deliberately cutting back to make sure the most used rooms stayed warm. If the latter… She really did not want to think about what it meant if Rumple had found it necessary to conserve on the magic he was using. It had not taken long for her to realize that when Rumple said all magic comes with a price he was not talking about some merchant like transaction he was making, but rather the costs pf producing the magic itself. It appeared the magic set a price when it was called upon. Usually Rumple set his deals up so that the person receiving the benefit of the magic provided something that met the magic’s requirements for what was owed. It made her rather proud that she, or rather her service, had been deemed worthy of the cost of ending the war and driving the Ogres from her homeland. According to Jefferson, the people of her Duchy understood what she had done and honored her for it, even if her father and Gaston did not. If Rumple needed to conserve magic to the point where he was rationing it to the Dark Castle it meant either he could not find someone to pay the price of the magic or he was using it for his own purpose and he had to pay directly. Both options left her deeply concerned about his welfare. Not that she could do anything. Sighing she went back to braiding gold thread into a cord which she was turning into bows and little bobbles to decorate the Great Hall. She had a few yards of ribbon to add to the decorating, but a few yards did not go very far in decorating a room the size of the Hall. At home there would have been swathes of bunting draping the room, along with greenery and candles. She could come up with candles, but without the cloth it all looked rather stark even with the gold decorations she was making. Late in the day just as Belle was thinking about dinner she heard the doors of the entry hall slam open. “Rumple?” She was only half way to the doors of the Great Hall when they burst open and a very wet Dark One strode in. Tossing the sword he carried on the table, he stripped off a dripping cloak to reveal an only slightly dryer coat and leather trousers. His boots made squishing sounds and left tiny puddles in his wake. “Why is snow piled up blocking the gates and the main doors and why the fuck is it so cold in here?” “Thank the Gods you’re home. I was so worried.” Still she stopped short of embracing him. Aside from not wanting to get wet, he had the outraged look of a cat that had fallen into the bath. His hands shook as he fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. “Here let me help you with that. How did you get so wet?” “The wards around the castle, which should be sending the worst of this snow outside the grounds, decided to repel the portal from Jefferson’s hat instead and dumped us into the biggest snow bank I’ve ever seen.” He let Belle strip off his coat, waistcoat and shirt, leaving him bare chested and shivering. Belle grabbed the lap rug she had been using and draped it over his shoulders. “Where’s Jefferson?” She glanced back toward the entry hall. “You didn’t leave him out in the snow?” “Jefferson, wisely, took one look at the snow, spun his hat and headed home.” Rumple pulled the lap rug around himself and sat down in the chair next to the fire to start unlacing his boots. Belle knelt next to him to start on the other boot. She knew from experience this was a several minute task. “He’s not staying for Solstice after all?” It had actually been Rumple’s idea that they have Jefferson and his daughter for Solstice dinner. Suggesting in an off hand way, “You should ask him, Dearie. Give you both a bit of company.” It was only after she had done so and Jefferson had gratefully accepted that it occurred to her that a widower with a young daughter might have neither the means nor the skills to provide the girl with a Solstice feast. “He needed to go home to get Grace anyway.” Rumple reassured her. “He’ll be back tomorrow night. “Assuming he can get here.” He growled. “When did the spells to clear the snow around the castle stop working?” “I’m not sure they have.” There had been plenty of time for her to consider this. “It’s just the blizzard has been going on almost the entire time you’ve been gone. I think they’re working. They just can’t keep up.” Rumple stopped midway through unlacing his boot. “The blizzard has been going for three weeks>?!” “It hasn’t let up at all,” Belle told him. “That’s not… natural is it?” “No.” Rumple agreed. “Even the worst blizzards I’ve seen, and I’ve seen my share, start and stop.” He signed. “I’m going to have to look into this. But I want my tea and some food before I do. Not to mention a bath and dry clothes.” There more than enough of the soup she had prepared for both of them for dinner. But she toasted some of the bread and melted cheese on it as well to make it a heartier meal. She had never seen Rumple affected by the cold before. She had the table set and the food in place by the time he came down from his bath. His usual leather replaced with heavy wool in a deep burgundy. It was a good look on him. He took the cup of tea from her with gratitude. Then noticed, “Where is the lemon?” “We’re out.” “Out?” Frowning he sipped the tea anyway. “There hasn’t been a delivery of supplies since you left.” Belle told him. “No word at all from the village. I assumed it was because of the weather.” “The town hasn’t been late in delivering supplies in a century.” Rumple narrowed his eyes. “I need to go down to the village and check. If someone has been interfering with my lands...” “First eat your dinner.” Belle directed. “After three weeks a half an hour won’t make much difference. And if it is only the weather, there are supplies I would like to have for Solstice. I’ll make a list.” By the time she was half way through explaining the list, Rumple decided, “You might as well come with me and do your own shopping. If there is something amiss down there I’ll just port you back to the castle.” Rumple said he was transporting them to the village headwoman’s door. And dramatically pounded on it when they reached it. “You’ll frighten them.” Belle admonished. “If they failed to deliver supplies because there was a little snow to inconvenience them, they deserve to be frightened.” Rumple growled. Belle rather pointedly looked around the village square. The snow removal magic seemed to be doing a slightly better job of keeping the streets clear than it was the castle grounds, but there was only a single track and the piles of snow that had been cleared from the roads towered over their heads. “A little snow?” The door swung open. “Praise be! Rumplestiltskin, you’re all right! We were afraid…” A tall woman with graying hair and a soldier's build waved them into the house. “Just what were you so afraid of that my share of supplies has not been delivered, Liath Luachra?” The, presumably, headwoman was clearly well enough acquainted with Rumple that his posturing did not intimidate her. “There was an avalanche just past Old McDonald’s farm. The road to the castle is blocked, which is why the supplies didn’t get delivered. McDonald’s grandsons have been trying to dig a path so they could at least ferry some of the supplies up by mule, but the snow hasn’t let up and they’ve only been able to get as far as the Widow Ramsey’s place. Her hired man fell from the roof trying to clear it and they had to bring him back to town so the healer could treat his concussion. “What frighted us was that you didn’t turn up to stop the storm or at least clear roads.” Luachra, went to her fire and held up a kettle. “Peppermint tea?” “Yes, please.” Belle accepted for both of them. “Ah, Lady Belle, may I present Liath Luachra the village headwoman.” Rumple dropped his posturing and introduced her. “Luachra, the Lady Belle.” “Honored to have you in my house, my lady.” Luachra gave her something between a bow and a curtsy. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Belle took the offered tea. Glad to have something to warm her hands. The civilities taken care of, Luachra got back to business. “Now that you’re here, can you clear the roads? At least to the point of keeping them passable? It’s not just getting up to the castle. The road down to the river is blocked as well. Nobody is going to go hungry, but there are a lot of trade goods stacking up and some of them are perishable.” Rumple frowned. “It’s a tricky bit of magic. The snow needs to be removed quickly enough to keep the roads clear, but not so quickly some of it melts and stays on the road to freeze. That’s why the snow has backed up. It’s been coming down faster than the spell is set to remove it. I’ll have to be careful in shifting it at this point or some of it could melt and we’ll either have an ice rink or flooding. Not to mention we don’t want to accidentally dump several hundred barrels of snow on top of someone’s barn or worse head.” “Uhm, no,” Luachra agreed. “That would be bad.” “I’ll need to do a bit of calculating.” He pulled a coil of paper from an inside pocket along with a quill. “In the meantime take Lady Belle and help her complete her shopping. After I’ve taken care of the roads I want to look into what’s causing this blizzard. Has anyone reported anything or anyone unusual?” “Healer Beth says this kind of storm is not natural, but she hasn’t enough magic to be able to tell much more than that.” Luachra shrugged into a sheepskin jacket. “What sort of shopping do you need to do, my lady?” Most of the food items Belle wanted were already part of the supplies that were waiting to be taken to the castle. Luachra took her to the butcher for the suckling pig Belle decided to roast for the Solstice feast. As the butcher packaged it up, Belle realized. “Rumplestiltskin didn’t give me any coin. Does the castle have an account?” “In a way.” Luachra lounged against the pickle barrel. “We keep track of what goes to the castle and at the end of the quarter each tradesman sets off their contribution against their tax liability. If it’s more than they owe, Rumplestiltskin either balances the account with gold, or more usually someone else barters goods with them for an offset on their taxes.” “Rumple collects taxes?” She should not be surprised. These were his lands and it was a lord’s right. “He takes a share out in supplies for the castle. The bulk goes for things like road maintenance and paying the teachers and healer.” Luachra told her. Handing over the pig, dressed and wrapped for ease of carrying, the butcher put in. “We pay half of what they do down the river valley and get far more for our money.” “It helps that Rumplestiltskin doesn’t have to pass a third of what he collects to one of the monarchs.” Luachra put in. “And the supplies for the castle amount to so little we’ve plenty left for up keep on the town.” Belle had noticed that the town appeared prosperous and well kept up. “So you don’t mind living under the Dark Ones shadow?” The butcher snorted. “My cousin always asks that. Worries that I’m being ‘corrupted’ by dark magic. I don’t know what ‘corruption’ looks like, but I do know I don’t have to worry about M’ Lord taking my children to fight some war or warm his bed. “Uhm, not that I meant…” The butcher suddenly looked very worried. Belle smiled at the poor man to ease his concern. “I took no offense. My… position at the Dark Castle is by choice not coercion.” By the time Belle picked up the fabric she needed to finished her decorating the streets of the village were starting to clear. Rumple was waiting for her. “I’ll take you and the supplies back to the castle, but then I need to head over the Northern Sea. From what Healer Beth was able to tell me it looks like this blizzard is coming in from across the sea. My guess is some idiot over there with more power than sense cast a spell to change the wind patterns and send us their storms in addition to our own. Once I locate the source I can cancel it and let the wind patterns go back to normal. It will take a few days for everything sorts itself out.” “Can’t you just,” Luachra made a sweep with her hands as though brushing the storm away. Rumple sighed. “I could. But weather is a chancy thing. Sending away the storm now could very well result in a drought this summer. Better not to mess with it.” Dropping her in the kitchen along with the supplies. Rumple told her, “The source of this mess should stand out like a beacon. A lot of magic went into it. In all likelihood I’ll be back by breakfast. If it takes longer than I expect you’ll have Jefferson and Grace to keep you company for Solstice.” “I’d rather have you.” Hugging him through all their outerwear was not very satisfying. “Hurry home? I missed you.” After a long lingering kiss, Rumple said, “And I you. I’ll be quick as I can. This idiot who’s playing about with the weather has a lot to answer for. I was looking forward to sleeping beside you tonight.” “Just sleeping?” Belle grinned. “Get a long with you, minx.” He swatted her backside. “We’ve both work to do. Rumple did make it back it back by breakfast. By which time Belle was elbow deep in Solstice dinner preparation and had no time for anything more enjoyable if she was to be ready for Jefferson and Grace. He helped peel vegetables as he told her about tracking down the mage who had done the casting. “Damn fool cast the spell so that the idiot Prince he works for could have a hunt on his name day. Then miscalculated when he tried to stop it and made it worse. Well at least I got some pearls and the promise of a future favor from him out of the deal when I corrected it.” Two of the pearls he’d gotten were mounted on earrings and now adorned Belle’s ears. “So the blizzard should let up soon?” “Be a few days before it blows out, but it’s already started lessening.” Rumple dropped the last of the parsnips into the bowl. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m going to get some sleep before our guests arrive.” As he did not suggest she join him, he clearly needed it. She shooed him off to bed. Solstice dinner was shaping up nicely. The suckling pig, which had been Belle’s greatest concern seemed to be cooking thoroughly without burning the skin. A prospect the cook in her father’s castle had always feared when preparing the meal in Belle’s childhood. She had collected the drippings for some Yorkshire pudding and popped it in with the potatoes, other vegetables, and pears she was roasting. Everything seemed to be coming along nicely. The mead, fudge and gingerbread she had prepared in advance. She was also cooking Grünkohl with Bremer pinkel for herself. Her grandmother had always insisted on the kale and sausage dish at Solstice and it would hardly seem like a Solstice feast without it. Jefferson had arrived with his daughter a while ago. The girl had shyly presented her with a fruitcake. “Papa and I made it. I hope you like it.” “I’m sure it will be delicious. Thank you.” Belle had told her. Adding the fruitcake to the other sweets she had placed on the table. “And I have presents for you and Rumplestiltskin.” Grace announced. Turning to Rumple, she added severely, “And you’re not allowed to peek into it’s time to open them.” Rumple mimed shock. “Me? You think I would do such a thing?” “Yes.” The girl told him bluntly. Jefferson laughed. Rumple grinned. “Well you’d best keep me busy until sundown then. Shall we see if we can beat your father at dice?” Belle had left them playing to check on the food. She was just taking the pig from the oven when Grace appeared. “Rumpelstiltskin says it’s nearly sundown and you should come up to light the Yule log and candles.” “That was good timing. Here you can help me carry the food up.” In the end it took all of them to ferry the food to the table. The roast pig surrounded by roasted vegetables and pears looked especially festive. After everyone had eaten their fill presents were exchanged. Rumple had picked out a lovely green wool and some matching linen for new dress for Grace and more of the linen and some green silk with gold embroidery to be made into a waistcoat for Jefferson. Belle had added a book for each of them. “We shall look very grand in our new clothes.” Jefferson declared. “Thank you.” Grace had embroidered a handkerchief for both her and Rumple. Who declared, “These are very well done, Gracie. I shall show it off the next time I meet with the Queen. I doubt she has any as fine.” Jefferson had brought her a box of oranges from Avonlea. She and Grace split one as they were both too full to eat one entirely. “Thank you so much. We always had these for Solstice before the war.” “I thought you’d enjoy a taste of home.” He told her. “And for our host. He produced a bottle and handed it to Rumple. “Frontland’s single malt?” Rumple took the bottle carefully. “Ye Gods, Jefferson, who did you have to kill to get this?” “Let’s just say there is a clan leader who badly needed to get as far away from an irate husband as he could and was willing to part with it. Is it really that good? I mean they make whiskey all across the northern lands.” Three small glasses appeared on the table. “You’ll try some and see.” To Belle it was far too strong and she let Rumple finish off her glass. Jefferson, however, sipped his and went wide eyed with pleasure. “That is smooth!” “What did you get cloth for new clothes for Solstice as well, Lady Belle.” Grace asked her, uninterested in the liquor. “Rumple brought me back a lovely blue silk robe from the eastern lands.” Belle told her. “That sounds pretty.” Grace agreed. For some reason Jefferson was glancing uncomfortably between herself and Rumple. After a few more minutes of conversation, Belle rose to clear the table. “Let me help.” Jefferson jumped up to get his and Grace’s dishes. “You’re a guest. Belle objected. Jefferson’s smile was a bit forced. “And in houses where the hostess does the cooking it is considered good manners to help her clean up, my lady.” Her disbelief must have shown as Rumple commented. “It’s fine Dearie. Meals are a more collaborative effort when servants are few or nonexistent. Let him help. Gracie has promised me a rematch of our last game of backgammon.” She put the large kettle on for water for the dish washing as Jefferson brought down the dishes and left over food. After he had everything in the kitchen she started to box up some of the food for him to take home. Leaning against the counter, he cleared his throat nervously. “Belle, I hope you regard me as a friend.” “Of course I do Jefferson.” She wondered where this was going. “So I won’t be overstepping by saying...” He seemed to be having trouble finding words for what he had to say. “If you need to get away from here there are lands I could take you to that Rumplestiltskin can’t reach unless I take him. You’d be safe from him.” “I’m perfectly safe right here. Why would you think otherwise?” Jefferson pursed his lips. “I saw the silk robes he was looking at when we were in the east. That was not the kind of garment one buys for ones maid. If he’s taking liberties...” Belle had to laugh. “Oh, Jefferson. You’re very kind, but I’m the one that took the ‘liberties’. Rumple offered to let me leave and I turned him down. Well, I went to the village and come back, but it amounts to the same thing.” “Are you sure?” Jefferson was not convinced. “Sometimes women… become attached to their captors. You don’t have to stay if he’s forcing you to… do things.” “I’m sure I’m not doing anything I don’t want to.” Belle told him. “And I was never his captive. I made a deal of my own free will. I’ll grant you I thought he was going to demand ‘things’ of me when I first came, but he never did. He’s really a very sweet man under all his posturing.” “Sweet?” Jefferson laughed. “it must be true love if you can look at the Dark One and call him sweet. Well, I’m glad to hear you’re happy here, but if that ever changes my offer stands.” “And I thank you, but there’s no need.” She assured him. After seeing their guests off, Belle went upstairs to bathe and change into her new robe. After brushing out her hair, she headed into the bedroom. He was already in bed reading as he waited for her. She paused just before the fire as she entered. Giving him a good look at the how well the silk of the robe complimented her coloring. Taking her in he grinned, “Ah, I knew that blue would match your eyes. You look lovey, my dear.” “Thank you.” She took off the robe and slid into bed next to him. “You caused Jefferson a good deal of consternation buying that robe you know. He was very much afraid that he would need to rescue me from your evil intentions. He offered to take me away to somewhere you couldn’t follow.” “And what did you tell him?” “That if anyone needed rescuing it was you.” She leaned in to kiss him. “As I fully expected to finish my Solstice celebration by thoroughly ravishing you.” “I am at your disposal.” “Good.” She straddled his hips. “Happy Solstice my love.” He pulled her down into a deep kiss. “The happiest I’ve had in centuries, my dear.”

[xmagicxshopx]

⏳ Chaos ⏳

Genre: Idol Life, Fantasy Adventure, Romance, Comedy Rating: PG-13 Warnings: mild language, Tae’s dad is a jerk Pairing: Taehyung x reader Notes: demigod!bts au but also idol!bts. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: I know a lot of the idols’ activities are not chronologically correct but just go with it. XD

Tagging: @temptaestions because she’s a cutie who requested something fun~

Summary: Kim Taehyung of BTS just wants someone to go with him to the Seoul Fashion Week event. But when everyone else is busy, he’s left with no choice but to hire an escort.

“Sorry, buddy. I’ve got a movie I’m just starting to film. But maybe try Tiffany? She always goes to those. Never misses a year.”

“Ooohhh. Sorry, TaeTae. But I’m actually in America right now on tour. Maybe next year? I’m super bummed I’m missing it, though!”

“Hey, Tae! Ah--- Sorry, my friend, but I just started promotions for my solo. You’ve listened to it, right?”

Call after call, friend after friend, it all had the poor boy coming up short. All Kim Taehyung wanted was for someone to go with him to the Seoul Fashion Week event so he wouldn’t have to go alone. Now.....One would think that living with six other guys and a contact list long enough to circle the globe three times......Surely someone was available?

Namjoon was too busy being Bangtan’s amazing leader. Jin claimed he’d rather watch paint dry. Yoongi was napping and you don’t dare wake Min Yoongi when he’s napping. Hoseok was already treating himself to a spa day.

Jimin would have gone but Jeon “The Brat” Jungkook snatched him up first. They were off doing lord knows what. That of course left the youngest out too which was fine because he had horrible fashion sense anyway. The kid’s closet had to be nothing but t-shirts three sizes too big and baggy pants to go with them. Oh.....and bucket hats.......

Since his six brothers were unavailable, Taehyung resorted to his long list of idol friends. This proved to be futile as he went down the list faster than he expected. Everyone was just so gosh darn busy. Whether it be acting, touring, solo promotions, and even military service! It never ended! However, when he was just about to give up while on the phone with his good friend from VIXX, Hakyeon, it was then that the darker skinned male spoke up.

“Try hiring an escort. You can’t go wrong there.”

“An escort?”

“Yeah! Basically you contact a company who specializes in that kind of stuff. You know, someone to keep you company for an event of your choice. You tell them what you’re looking for and they’ll hook you up with one of their employees.”

The young man sat there at the end of his bed as he thought about it. Sure, Taehyung knew of those types of companies but he had never ever considered using one before. Then again, he never really had a reason to. He had always been surrounded by either Bangtan or his other famous friends. There was never any need for a complete stranger.

“I’ll think about it. Thanks for the idea, hyung. Stay safe out there, okay?”

“Will do, Tae. Good luck with everything! Gotta go. Duty calls.”

Just like that, the young lad was left alone once more. He sat there fiddling with his phone in his hands as he contemplated on whether or not he should seriously consider the idea of hiring an escort. A complete stranger. Granted, Taehyung could be quite the social butterfly, but still. Given his extreme social status, would it be safe? What if he got stuck with some employee who was a crazy fan? There was so much that could go wrong here.

Then again......There was also a lot that could go right. Just like with anything else. He had to weigh the pros and cons and decide from there. Even though he could get stuck with someone crazy, he could also end up making a new friend. Perhaps the person would be pleasant and professional? Not to mention he really really didn’t want to go alone.

“Oh why the hell not? I won’t know till I try, right?”

That was how Taehyung found himself just a few days later standing in front of his full length mirror. He adjusted his tie as he tried to decide if it was the one he actually wanted. Did it go with the rest of his outfit? Did it complement his suit jacket? His hair? Should he go crazy and color it before the event?

While he bustled around making sure he was completely ready, he thought about his escort. Upon calling, he had been 100% up front with the receptionist and explained that he had no idea what he was doing. They simply asked him a few questions and mailed him various forms to fill out and sign and poof, instant companion for the event.

During the small questionnaire, Taehyung was asked if he had a preference of male or female for this event and he spoke up honestly that it didn’t matter. He just wanted polite company that he could gush about fashion with. So it was no surprise to him when he got an email confirmation from the company stating details that his escort was a female in her early 20s.

The plan sounded simple and looked simple on paper. Have a nice meal in a secluded place to help break the ice, go to the event, have a good time, and part ways. But Taehyung was smart enough to know that it wasn’t going to be quite that simple. Again.....So much could go wrong or it could go right. Only time would tell. Speaking of, it was time for him to head out.

“I can do this.”

To try and keep things as secret as possible for as long as possible, the plan was to have a BigHit Ent vehicle take him to the back of the agency building where he’d meet his companion for the day. He’d then hop in to join the escort company’s vehicle where they’d drive to the restaurant of his choosing.

He wasn’t a complete idiot. Taehyung knew the minute he arrived at the carpet with the escort that the media would go crazy. All he asked was for a nice, quiet meal with this stranger beforehand. Being sneaky and secretive like this was the only way he knew how. Sometimes being a idol was very exhausting in the sense of trying to enjoy simple things such as a nice meal with someone.

The closer he got to the agency building, the more anxious and nervous the poor boy was becoming. He figured his companion for the day would be pretty but would they match? Hence why he kept his outfit fairly neutral as far as colors go. He appreciated the company but this was a fashion event and he really didn’t want to arrive looking like a mismatched pair of socks.

This was it. They were here. Time to get out and face the music. Taking a deep breath to help center himself, Taehyung climbed out of his agency vehicle and made his way for the back of the limousine where he carefully opened the door and climbed inside.

“Greetings, Mr. Kim. I am your escort for today.”

Whoa. You were absolutely gorgeous. Everything from the shape of your face, eyes, nose, lips. Despite you sitting down, he could tell you had amazing curves. That was when he finally took in your attire for the event. Thank goodness! It would appear either yourself or the company he hired you from was knowledgeable in the fashion industry. Dare he say, the two of could end up being the best matched guests there today.

“He-Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

You had to admit, when the company you worked for explained that you would be assigned to thee Kim Taehyung of BTS, you were a little surprised. Upon hearing that it was for the Seoul Fashion Week event, you did your research and was glad to see that it paid off. He seemed pretty impressed by the look on his face. You found it cute and endearing.

“It’s my understanding we’ll be eating first, Mr. Kim?”

“Ta-Taehyung is fine. There’s no need for being formal. But, yes, that’s right. I thought we could maybe take that time to smooth over any awkwardness.”

“You mean like right now?”

You smiled at him and couldn’t help how adorable he looked all flustered like that. It was more than obvious that it was his first time using such a thing as an escort company. Not that you were here to judge. The same warm smile still on your face, you decided to help break that ice cube of awkwardness and asked casually,

“Where to, Taehyung?”

That seemed to be enough to snap him back to reality. Blinking a couple times, he pulled himself together and with a soft cough to help clear his dry throat, he looked between you and the driver and said casually,

“Yes. There’s a nice place that’s secluded just down the road a few blocks from here.”

After stating the actual name of the restaurant, the driver instantly knew where the young man was referring to and so began driving from the back parking lot, out onto the streets. Trying not to seem as awkward as initially, Taehyung looked over at you and smiled a bit timidly.

“So how long have you been in the escorting business?”

It wasn’t till the words had already came flying out of his mouth that he considered the question might come across as being insensitive or rude. Just as he was about to backpedal and apologize, you perked up with a smile and replied casually,

“Not that long, actually. I’m in my early 20s and I applied as soon as I was of age. I still believe it was my looks that got me in and not my smarts.”

“Well----If I may say, you really are beautiful. Gorgeous even.”

You thought he was extremely cute with the way the tips of his ears were turning pink. After watching so many interviews and following BTS in the news and your free time, you never would have imagined that this young man would be nervous about anything. But then again......Even Kim Taehyung of BTS was human.

“Thank you, Taehyung. And you look handsome as always.”

The small talk ended sooner than the young man would have liked. Thankfully it wouldn’t be long before they could pick things back up as he was now carefully getting out of the vehicle and jogging around to help you out of the car but you had already beaten him to it; getting out yourself.

“What’s with the pout, Taehyung?”

“I was going to be a gentleman and open the door for you.”

You smiled warmly at him only to nudge your head towards the restaurant entrance; silently telling him to follow you. It was now more obvious than ever that the poor boy was a first time user. Still smiling, you explained casually but with a tone of endearment,

“I’m trying to keep you out of trouble, Mr. Kim. If you know what I mean.”

The gears were turning and you could practically hear them as the greeter out front passed along two menus to another employee and they had the two of you follow to somewhere further back in the restaurant. A place far more secluded to where no prying eyes could watch you.

Upon sitting down, the employee placed down the menus and politely explained who their server would be and was off in a flash. It wasn’t till he finally had a chance to sit down that he looked up at you sheepishly; understanding clearly hitting him now.

“Thanks for.......I never even thought about the media seeing us like that.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung. Your heart was in the right place and that means a lot. In my few years at the company, you’re the most sweetest client I’ve ever had.”

The way you worded things gave him a huge reality check. One that he probably needed. Client. That’s all he was. This wasn’t a date. This wasn’t a date. He had to keep reminding himself of that. It was his own fault, really. Choosing such a nice restaurant like this to have a nice meal before heading out. But.....did he want this to be a date??? Why was he even thinking about that right now? He knew darn well dating wasn’t plausible for him right now.

“I think I’m going to take the salad. It looks good.”

“Hmm. Sounds good. What else are you getting with it? Their steak looks good.”

“Oh I’ll be getting just the salad. Nothing else with it.”

For the first time since meeting, it was now your turn to become sheepish and nervous. Usually there wasn’t an issue. Mostly because your clients didn’t care. You were just a bag of flesh meant to look pretty on their arm for a number of random events. But this man right here......he was different. Kim Taehyung was definitely different.

He stared at you with furrowed eyebrows and a look that was the perfect mixture of worry and confusion. Sure he had said the salad sounded good but that was just him being polite. He had been here plenty of times and he’d seen the salad you were referring to. There was practically nothing to it. There was no way that was going to fill you up for the rest of the day.

“Wh----”

“I’m really not that hungry. So I’m going to eat light.”

As if higher power was against you today, your stomach growled an ungodly sound and you wanted nothing more than to fall through the floor and never see the light of day again. Oh how the tables have turned. There you sat with a huge pout on your face while he looked amused but was trying to remain cool about it.

“Look----It’s the company. I have to retain a strict diet and certain weight if I want to stay employed.”

It was highly unprofessional but the words just came flying out of your mouth before you could think it through. Not to mention Taehyung carried this aura about him that just made it so.......easy. He was so easy to talk to. He held a special warmth in his eyes that practically begged you to open up and spill all your worries and fears.

“Oh gosh---I’m so sorry, Tae. I should have never told you that. I----”

“Screw the company.”

“H-Huh?”

“I said......Screw the company.”

There the two of you sat. You in shock and him giving you a stern but......There was something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. Regardless, you could tell he was serious about his words. Gosh were you blushing??? Kim Taehyung was definitely your most interesting client so far. That’s for sure.

“Eat what you want.”

“But----”

“No buts. Part of my request was that I have a nice meal with good company. You work for me today and I want to see you eating whatever you want.”

He had no idea where this sudden boldness was coming from, but he found himself leaning back into his chair with his hands clasped behind his head; cradling his skull and a smug smile on his face. Now this was the Kim Taehyung most people were used to seeing. In a warm but teasing tone, he asked softly,

“You wouldn’t want to disappoint your client now, would you?”

Oh he was good. You had to give him that. What a sly young man he was. Biting your bottom lip and glancing back down at the menu, Taehyung knew he had already won the battle. It was honestly ridiculous, though. What kind of......well.....who was he kidding? It was all about looking the prettiest and thinnest these days. It was sad but the harsh reality all the same.

“The steak does sound pretty delicious.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Good choice.”

With that, drinks were ordered and two steak meals were placed. You sat there in disbelief and it was evident all over your face. There was a split second where the poor boy thought maybe he had sent you into some kind of frozen state of shock. Blinking out of your stupor, you cleared your throat and spoke up softly, almost timidly.

“Thank you.....”

“For what?”

What exactly were you thanking him for? Even you yourself weren’t sure. But as you sat there and thought about it while sipping on your ice water, you cleared your throat once more and replied slowly as if still thinking about it,

“For treating me as a real person and not someone you hired to keep you company.”

The whole atmosphere seemed to soften as your words lingered in the air between you. Never before had you spoke such words during a job. Then again.....there was nothing normal or routine about this particular work order. No. Kim Taehyung made sure of that. Said male sported a soft and warm smile as he spoke just as much,

“That’s because you are a real person.”

The rest of the meal went by fairly well with no more awkward confessions about your job being less than perfect. Although Taehyung did learn that you actually went to school for cosmetology and that you’d one day like to try and get a job as either a hair or makeup stylist. The young man found you interesting and often found himself ignoring his meal just so his full and undivided attention was on you as you spoke.

The ice had definitely been broken and the two of you were on your way to the event. In fact, things were so chill between you two that you had actually started calling him Tae or even TaeTae. It was cute how his ears tried to turn pink every time you said it. Yep. Out of all the work orders how had ever fulfilled, this one was definitely your favorite. You could get used to being Taehyung’s escort.

“Wow......That’s the best meal I’ve had in.......”

“Since you became of age?”

The two of you looked at each other and soft laughter and chuckles filled the vehicle. Nodding, you sat there buckled up but gently patted and rubbed at your stomach. How long had it been since you felt so warm and full before? Gosh you could totally take a nap right here. However, sleeping would have to wait because you still had a job to fulfill.

“So are you into fashion? I hope this won’t be boring for you.”

You lightly waved your hand as if to swat at a fly while shaking your head. Wanting to further explain, you spoke up casually,

“I have specific tastes but I have no doubt that I’ll be able to appreciate the work we’re about to go see. Honestly I’ve always wanted to go to this event but I’ve always had to work.”

Relief internally flooded through the boy’s veins as he listened. Good. Good good. The last thing he wanted was to sit there next to someone who was incredibly bored with something that he found extremely interesting. Dare he say it but......It was almost like you were......perfect for him.

As he expected, the minute he arrived at the outdoor carpeted entrance, cameras were all over him. He wanted to give you a glance but fortunately one of the media employees was practically demanding that the two of you look at each other. Finally given the perfect excuse to check on you and see how you were holding up with his fame, he was surprised to see you doing very well.

Your smile was warm and bright and so.....natural. Was it a genuine smile or one that you reserved for work? If Taehyung was any kind of bold, he’d love to ask you the minute they got a moment alone but nope. Too chicken. Not gonna go there. The media kept asking who you were and how long you had known the idol but you kept things professional and just remained silent. You were good. Really good.

“Wow. Sorry about that. They were crazy out there.”

With soft laughter, you simply shook your head and leaned over to speak so that you could be heard over all the noise.

“You’re Kim Taehyung of BTS, it’s to be expected.”

The event went smoothly. Both of you just as adamant and into it as anyone else. The young man watched your eyes light up with the most beautiful kind of innocence he had ever seen. You were like a child as you watched model after model walk down the runway. Whenever Taehyung would explain a certain piece to you, he could tell you were listening with your full attention; genuinely interested in what he had to say.

Yep. You were perfect for him.

“Wow! That was so much fun, Tae! I had no idea fashion could be so exciting!”

You were giddy and it was one of the most adorable things Taehyung had ever witnessed. It was as if you were literally high on happiness. Your smile was brighter than the night sky as the two of you sat in the limousine driving back to the BigHit agency building. For some reason.....his heart was sinking the closer they got. It was then that he suddenly asked,

“You wanna go somewhere else? I........I’m not ready to......to say goodbye.....”

It was bold. He knew it. You knew it. You both knew it. Yet....You wanted it too. You weren’t ready to say goodbye either. This had been the most enjoyable day of your life in several months. Years even. It didn’t even feel like a job at this point and the young man certainly didn’t feel like a client. No. This.......This felt like a.......like a.......

Date.

And you were here for it. All of it. Shamelessly so. Even if you were playing with fire, it didn’t matter because clearly the young man wanted this too. Smiling widely, your eyes softened and you nodded gently before speaking up in an honest tone,

“I’m not ready either. Where do you wanna go, Tae?”

Call him crazy. Call him insane. But Taehyung knew exactly where he wanted to take you. It was gonna be a long shot but he was practically itching to show you. To show you a part of him that only few other people knew about. A part of him that sometimes.....He wasn’t always so proud of. But still. He wanted you to know.

“It’s something inside the agency building. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone, okay?”

Grinning widely and feeling more than adventurous, you held out your pinkie finger and the young idol immediately linked his with yours. It probably seemed silly but he held a lot of respect for the famous pinkie promise.

Before either of you knew it, the vehicle was stopping once again in the back of the agency building and this time you allowed the young man to open the door for you. Giggling like a schoolgirl, you allowed him to help you out and tugged down your dress to help keep it smooth against your skin. You had since then changed out of your expensive heels and into comfortable flats that still matched your dress.

“Come on. I can’t wait to show you. Under the impression that you’ll believe me, of course.”

“I don’t see you having a reason to lie so of course I’ll believe you, TaeTae.”

Oh you say that now but he couldn’t help but remain nervous. Thankfully his palm wasn’t sweaty as he held yours while guiding the two of you to the elevator located in the lobby. Your heart was pounding with excitement and anticipation. However, upon standing in front of the contraption, you watched him turn towards you and asked softly with the utmost sincerity,

“Do you trust me?”

For a slight moment, your mind went straight to the gutter. Despite his seriousness and sincerity, you couldn’t help but immediately picture the two of you making out and even going further in an elevator. But-----That was ridiculous! If he wanted to do that with you, it could have been anywhere far better than an elevator. Mentally shaking your head, you blinked up at him and nodded immediately.

“I trust you, Taehyung.”

His smile was bright and warm as he gave your hand a squeeze. It was meant to be reassuring but honestly you were still trying to get over the fact how.....comfortable, you were with the idea of making out with him. Where was your head? He was your client! Get your act together! Gripping his hand back in return, you watched him press the button and the doors immediately opened.

Walking in, still hand-in-hand, you watched him press a button that would have looked like a normal button.....Had it not looked like a pyramid. Hmm....That was interesting....and oddly familiar. You glanced up at him to see that he looked a bit nervous. As if he were second guessing his decision. But all he said was---

“Hang on tight.”

Still caught off guard, you ended up letting out a soft scream of surprise when the compartment suddenly jerked and started ascending at a much faster speed than a normal elevator should go. Not thinking anything of it, you latched onto the male and he gently encased you in his arms. If you weren’t so disoriented, you would have thoroughly enjoyed the embrace.

And suddenly-----It stopped. It stopped with a soft ding.

The doors opened and sand immediately started to blow into the compartment. There was a nice breeze and a warmth that encased you like a warm, fuzzy blanket on a cold winter’s day as you finally opened your eyes to look behind you. Whoa.

Sand. There was sand everywhere! And pyramids! Beautiful structures withstanding the test of time and all of them tipped with gold. Real, pure gold. The river flowed and the water looked crystal clear against the sun’s beautiful rays. Wow. Wow wow! You could hear people in the distance. Some trying to sell their merchandise while others were just having normal conversations about their day.

You were in Egypt.

“You’re a demigod?!”

“Wait----You believe in demigods???”

“Dude! I’m a demigod too!!”

“What?!”

Okay. Hold the phone. Stop the presses. Everything was happening way too fast and things were escalating quickly. The poor boy looked utterly lost and confused, perhaps even frozen with shock. Meanwhile, you were glowing. Glowing with happiness at this sudden realization. He was perfect for you. He was everything you wanted in a guy. Not only was he fun to hang out with, but he shared a secret same as yours. Well......almost.

“Yeah! I’m the daughter of Aphrodite! You know----The Greek Goddess. She’s my mom!”

Well dang. This was definitely not how the idol saw things going. Granted he wasn’t complaining. Heck, this was going to be way easier than he thought. But the whole idea that he was staring at someone who was just like him.....It was pretty surreal to say the least. Smiling a bit timidly, he spoke up with honesty.

“No wonder you’re so beautiful and pretty. It’s in your genetics.”

Despite having heard similar compliments, you still felt your face growing warm. It was just the way he said it. Or was it......the fact that it was him who said it? Either way, you enjoyed it and ended up smiling timidly. Turning around to face the view, you asked in an almost teasing manner,

“So----Gonna show me around?”

With that, he took your hand once more and this time you boldly laced your fingers together. This was definitely no longer an escort job and was a full blown date. Or at least that’s what you were calling it. Not that you’d tell him that. Thankfully he didn’t make a move to untangle your fingers. So perhaps he liked it too?

“Wow! This place is so cool! Look at all the pretty jewelry!”

“Kook???”

Taehyung had decided to take you through town first. Mostly to help buy him some time. The thing was.......while your Greek mother was something you could be proud of......The poor boy wasn’t exactly.....proud of his Egyptian bloodline. Of all the gods and goddesses that could have been his parent, he had to be the lucky guy who got stuck with the infamous god of chaos. Set. And he was not excited to tell you that.

Thankfully he found another distraction and it came in the form of one Jeon Jungkook.

The younger male turned around upon hearing his name and his doe eyes grew wider; clearly not expecting to see one of his band mates here. Let alone seeing him with someone else. Jogging over to the two of you, he sported a sheepish smile upon seeing you; clearly unsure of how to approach the situation.

“What are you doing here, Kook?”

“I um----Well I um........I’m here to see dad. I want to get my girlfriend a puppy for her birthday and I figured if anyone could help me pick the perfect pup, it’d be him.”

“Your dad is Anubis?!”

Before you could attract anymore attention than you already had, the two boys started to drag you off towards the palace entrance; both looking a bit embarrassed and maybe even a bit mortified. Oops. Well you couldn’t exactly help it. You were in shock. It was two for two now with both Bangtan boys being Egyptian demigods. What were the odds. Once inside the palace foyer, the two males turned to you and nodded with the youngest speaking first.

“Yes. Anubis is my father. But.....Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Tae’s and also a demigod. My mother is Aphrodite.”

“Ah cool. Well it was nice to meet you. Have fun here in Egypt! I’m gonna track dad down. See you guys later!”

Taehyung stood there in surprise while you politely waved goodbye to the other boy. Why hadn’t you been more honest and explained that you were just a hired escort to keep him company? Furthermore, did you really consider the two of you friends? Why did that thought make his heart flutter? Gah. Too many questions.

“So---Who’s your Egyptian parent? You haven’t mentioned them yet.”

“Well I----”

“Ah! Nephew Kookie! Good to see you!”

Oh lord. Speak of the devil.

The voice came from just down the hall and it was the last voice Taehyung wanted to hear. And poor Kook. Glancing over at you only to see you wearing a confused expression on your face, he offered a sympathetic smile and stated softly,

“We should probably rescue him. Come on.”

Lightly jogging alongside each other, you were now more than grateful for switching into your flats. But your cocktail dress was definitely making you stand out among all the other town folk. Even in the palace. Actually, since when had Taehyung ditched his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt? Wow......he looked really good that way.

Rounding the corner, you were met with a sight that you could only dream about. There stood small-looking Jungkook as not just one, but two Egyptian gods towered over him. It wasn’t that the youngest member of BTS was short. Heck no. He was one of the taller ones. It was just that the two gods were that tall.

There stood in all their sun-kissed glory, was the Egyptian gods Anubis and Set. Anubis, the god of embalming and determining who was worthy of the glorious afterlife. Head of a jackal. And then there was Set. Lord of chaos. Head of an anteater. You knew from your studies that these two gods had an.....interesting history. But it was the words that left the anteater’s mouth that rendered you speechless.

“Well, well, well. First I get a visit from my beloved nephew and now my own son graces me with his presence. To what do I owe this rare occasion?”

“Hello, Set.”

You should have kept your cool. But it was impossible now. Your initial reaction was to look over at the young man next to you. Oh poor Taehyung.....His father was Set? One of the most evil gods in Egyptian history??? Your heart immediately throbbed for him. It was true what they say, you can’t pick your family. Just as you were about to reach out for his hand, the mischievous god asked playfully,

“Are you here to tell me I’m going to be a grandfather? Hmm?”

Well that was a fine start to a father and son conversation. You were now extremely warm and it wasn’t from the sun’s rays. Next to you, Taehyung was on the verge of boiling over. But before either of you could say anything, the other god came to your rescue.....with the help of his godly staff in his hand. A staff made of pure gold with a jackal head as the topper.

“Ouch! What was that for?! It was a legit question!”

However, Anubis paid him no mind and Jungkook had to bit his lower lip to keep from snickering in amusement. While one god was gently rubbing at his head, the other was kneeling with his head bowed as he spoke with a grace that only a god could pull off.

“Daughter of Aphrodite. Allow me to welcome you to the glorious sands of Egypt. And furthermore, I would like to apologize for my......colleague’s inappropriate behavior.”

“Again---It was a legit question for a father to ask his son.”

You wanted to ask the jackal headed male how he knew you were the daughter of Greek decent but chalked it up to probably just being a god thing. Smiling sheepishly and subconsciously sticking closer to Taehyung, you nodded and spoke up a bit more timidly than you would have liked.

“It’s okay. I get it. A father’s curiosity.”

Just as the anteater shouted a thank you, the other three males in the room all said at the same time as if rehearsed,

“You’re being way too nice to him.”

“Oh come on! At least someone here likes me!”

“And now she’s leaving. Goodbye, Set.”

You could tell from the way the poor man’s jaw was clenched that now was not the best time to argue. With a sheepish smile, you gave everyone a wave and spoke timidly but politely,

“It was lovely to meet you all.”

Anubis had since then risen once more and was wrapping a fatherly arm around his son Jungkook who politely waved back at you. Meanwhile, Set just had to get one last jab in as he waved dramatically and shouted after your retreating forms,

“Likewise, daughter-in-law. Let me know if it’s a boy or girl! I love baby showers!”

While you were still a soft giggling mess and a blush to match, Taehyung waited till he was long out of ear shot and groaned with embarrassment. Now down a completely different hallway and even on a different floor of the palace, he pulled you to stand in front of him and you could see just how embarrassed he really was.

“I’m so sorry about him. I was really hoping we could avoid him.”

“TaeTae. It’s okay. He’s your father. The odds of us not running into him were going to be very slim to none.”

You could tell there was something else bothering him and your eyebrows subconsciously knitted together. Letting go of his hand only to gently rub at his upper arms in what you hoped was a soothing fashion, you asked with genuine concern,

“What’s the matter, Tae? Talk to me.”

“It’s just......You don’t think I’m like him, do you? That I’m like......Like my father?”

“What? No! Not at all! You’re nothing like him. What makes you say that?”

Rather than answer you right away, the young man instead decided to take your hand in his once more and started leading you both in a new direction. It was only until he reached a balcony that you realized the sun had settled and stars were starting to pop up in the night sky. Letting go of your hand so that he could lean on the railing, he finally answered your question.

“It’s just......demigods are supposed to harbor traits from their godly parents, right? You for example. You look absolutely gorgeous. And Kook? He has a way with dogs and I know it’s because of his dad. Me? What do I get? I get urges to create chaos. I want to cause trouble.”

He paused for breath before continuing.

“But I don’t want that. I don’t want to cause problems for others. I want to help people. That’s why I enjoy being an idol so much. Because I get to help people with my music. I sing and it soothes people. I don’t want to become a monster like my father.”

It was silent for what felt like minutes when really it was only a couple seconds. For a split moment, Taehyung felt that perhaps he had said too much.

“Oh Tae......”

The moment felt incredibly intimate for just being an escort but you could care less. Acting on pure instincts and emotions, you found yourself wrapping the poor man up in a hug. A hug that he returned immediately. There was something extremely comforting about being in each other’s arms like this. Again, probably too intimate for a client but it didn’t matter to either of you. This was what the both of you wanted. You wanted each other’s company. More than just professionally.

ONE MONTH LATER.....

“Kook----I swear. If you don’t sit still you’re going to end up looking like the bride of Frankenstein.”

“I can’t help it! It tickles!”

It had been one month since your day with Taehyung. You’d never forget how the two of you stood on that balcony in ancient Egypt and he asked you to quit your escorting job so that you could come work as a stylist for BigHit Ent. At first you played it off thinking he was just being silly but nope. He was dead serious.

There was a mutual attraction there and the two of you wanted to get to know each other better. Taehyung voiced his feelings about how he hated seeing you starve yourself just because of a job. Not to mention he had discovered earlier that day during the meal that you wanted to pursue a career in what you went to school for. So it only made sense for you to agree and take on a job at the very company he worked for.

Today your members were Jungkook and Yoongi. Out of the two, the elder was a piece of cake but the youngest always managed to squirm like a worm. Meanwhile, your boyfriend was smirking next to him as he watched you struggle. Catching his side glance, you whined and pouted while saying as you tried to apply more eyeliner,

“You hush over there. Or I’ll make you look ten times worse.”

With a sudden sigh of relief, you waved your hand that still had the brush and said with just as much relief,

“Okay, you’re finished, dog boy. Now go play with Tannie while I work on Yoongi.”

Just like a kid, the doe eyed male hopped out of the chair and started his search for his little distant cousin as he liked to often refer to the pupper as. While you watched for the cat eyed male to take a seat, you carefully leaned on your boyfriend who chuckled softly and rested a loving hand on your cheek.

“Being your guys’ stylist is exhausting. How do you all do this every day?”

“Eh. It’s not that bad really. It became a lot easier once you started working here.”

“You’re so cheesy. Shush it before I shove this eyeliner pencil up your nose.”

“That’s got to be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

The two of you laughed and you itched to kiss him. But then again there were plenty of cameras and not to mention you didn’t want to mess with his makeup. Your coworker and fellow stylist was amazing at what she did and had taught you way more than any class would have. So you could appreciate her hard work and didn’t want to ruin it.

Taehyung couldn’t have been happier. He’d have to ring up Hakyeon and thank him for the suggestion of hiring an escort.

Who would have thought, right?

[twdeadfanfic]

A not-so-quiet life Pt.8

Summary: You could say your life at the Greene’s farm after they took you in was a quiet one… as quiet as it could be considering corpses were walking around as flesh-eating monsters. At least, until a group of survivors in need take shelter in the farm.

Inspired by the request: The reader used to have an emotionally and physically abusive ex and the group runs into her ex and his group and shit hits the fan and the reader gets hurt.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Violence and language typical twd style. Mentions of abuse and quite a lot of self-deprecating thoughts…and in the midst of all that, quite a lot of fluff too and also slow burn.

English’s not my first language so maybe there’re some mistakes, I apologize in advance.

Chapter: 8/13

-

Apparently, when Glenn and Daryl had said the road was not too blocked what they meant was that you could carefully drive through the abandoned cars, dodging the stranded walkers that roamed close.

They weren’t enough to be a problem and you were safe inside the car but you held your breath watching Daryl zigzag through the cars, leading you on his bike. You gasped aloud when a walker reached out for him but Daryl drove past it like nothing.

Maggie chuckled at that. “He’ll be fine, he’s used to it.”

You wondered why Daryl always went on his bike even if there was space in the car. No matter how much he loved the bike, you thought it was too much of a risk. He didn’t seem to share your opinion, he’d already brushed off your concern when you told him earlier, but seeing the walkers reaching our for him was wrecking your nerves.

Maggie was right, though, none of the walkers got to grab him. Glenn was driving slow, carefully maneuvering through walkers and cars, and Maggie opened her window and began sinking the knife into the heads of the closer monsters, and you followed her lead.

Eventually, you reached your destination, a big service area with a gas station, a small candies and gifts store, and a restaurant area. There seemed to have been a fire at the gas station and some burned and almost charred walkers were lying on the ground.

“That’s disgusting…” You said as you got out the car. “But with how big this place is we ought to find something.”

There were some walkers roaming around that began stumbling towards you. Maggie unsheathed her knife and made her way to them, followed by Glenn, while Daryl stayed slightly behind to shoot arrows at the monsters. You took your knife too, feeling a bit unsure about how to proceed but you sank it into the closer monster's head before sending it to the ground with a kick, yanking back your knife.

“Well done!” Maggie told you without stopping pushing forwards.

With a whistle, one of Daryl’s arrows embedded itself deep into the head of another walker which was getting close to you and then you felt Daryl’s hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t get behind.”

He warned you, shouldering his crossbow in favor of his knife, sinking it into another monster’s head, following Maggie and Glenn while you did the same until all the walkers were put down.

“Alright…” Maggie surveyed the place, hands on her hips, before looking at Glenn. “I say Glenn and I go to the gifts store and Daryl and Y/N to the gas station.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Glenn nodded.

You followed Daryl to the gas station, scrunching your nose at the smell of the burned walkers. It seemed all of them had died like that, and you yelped startled when a half-charred one opened its eyes with a small growl, reaching out and grabbing Daryl’s ankle. He yanked his leg away from its grip as nothing, kicking the monster on the face.

“Careful,” you said quietly, bending down to sink your knife in the head of the walker.

“It doesn’t have legs,” Daryl replied, not even looking at it.

“It can still bite and scratch.” You retorted.

You scooped around the outside but couldn’t find anything useful, the place seemed to have been raided, and so you made your way to the front door of the small store. Daryl knocked on the glass and in a second, a walker began banging it and growling from the other side.

You looked at Daryl in silence, waiting for instructions. He tried the handler of the door, not locked.

“Alright, you yank the door open, hide behind it and I put it down as it goes out, alright?”

“What if there’s more than one in there?” You asked, unsure, scared of opening the door and a bunch of walkers falling on Daryl.

“Nah…” Daryl looked through the dirty window into the dark store, ignoring the thuds of the walker inside. “I think that’s the only one. Come on.”

“Okay…okay…” You took a deep breath. “Three, two, one…”

You yanked the door open, making sure to get behind it, and a walker stumbled out but Daryl quickly grabbed it by the neck and put it down. It wasn’t wearing the uniform of the gas station and you guessed it might have been a client or maybe someone who went scavenging and got bitten…you tried not to think much about who walkers had been before, though.

“Done.”

Daryl walked in first, crossbow ready, while you followed him lighting the inside of the store with your lantern. The place was a mess, it had obviously been scavenged before and everything that hadn’t been taken from the shelves was littering the floor…nothing useful though.

“Alright, I think we’re clear,” Daryl said when no other walker showed up and you couldn’t hear any noise. “Don’t get far.”

“This place’s too small for that anyway.”

It was a single corridor, rather small, and what you guessed was a backroom behind the counter. You made your way to the fridge, which unsurprisingly was almost empty too. Some rotten premade sandwiches and a couple cans of cheap beer was all you could find, beside some precooked meals. You took one but the quality was questionable, it might not look rotten like the sandwiches but you thought it was more than probable that they were bad too. With a disappointed sigh, you decided not to take them, afraid it’d end up poisoning you.

“I hope Glenn and Maggie are having more luck…did you find anything?” You asked Daryl, who was behind the counter.

“Nah. Just money.”

“Just money…that’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear…” You said and Daryl chuckled quietly.

There were some magazines on the floor and you began picking some of them at random and stuffing them inside your bag, maybe somebody’d like to read them, take their mind off your less than ideal life for a bit, have something to do during some of those tedious evenings.

Daryl raised his eyebrows at you at that.

“What, we don’t have books or nothing, I thought people might like them.” You said. “But alright, I guess you won’t be asking me if I can lend you this…” You teased, picking one about motorbikes and waving it in front of him.” Guess I won’t take it, I don’t have that much room left.” You were already stuffing it inside your mostly empty bag.

Daryl said nothing, just gave you a smirk, getting a gun he seemed to have found somewhere behind the counter inside his bag. He tried the handler of the door of the back room but it was looked.

“Maybe we’ll find something better there,” you said, trying to stay hopeful.

“See if you can find the key,” Daryl told you and you both began rummaging through the counter again. “It can’t be this one…wouldn’t fit.” He showed you a tiny, old key he had found.

“Oh, it’s so lovely!”

You squealed and Daryl looked at you weird. You blushed in embarrassment and rushed to explain yourself, though you weren’t sure if you weren’t just about to embarrass yourself even more.

“When I was a little girl my grandmother used to have a lot of really, really old keys, from her old house and furniture at the village where she used to live, I thought all those keys were beautiful, kind of magical you know, being that old, I thought they had to open a lot of secrets…” You began explaining, fidgeting and half expecting Daryl’d laugh at you for being so silly and think like that about simple keys, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in what you were saying.

“So eventually my grandmother gave them to me before she passed and  I began collecting old keys, had quite a good collection…” You smiled a bit melancholic at the memories, you hadn’t thought about it for years, and you felt your heart ache when you thought about your missing family.

You swallowed hard, trying to stop your emotions from showing, not wanting to embarrass yourself more. Daryl seemed to notice, though, because he reached out to squeeze your arm softly, and you gave him a small smile before you kept talking.

“Anyway, I left them at my parent’s home when I got married and moved, I thought a couple times about going to get them and keep the collection or start a new one, but my husband said it was stupid cos you know, they’re just keys, a waste of space…I too know it’s a silly thing…” You shrugged, giving Daryl an embarrassed smile, but his face was serious. “But I think I have enough authority on keys to say that tiny one is quite a lovely one.” You awkwardly joked.

Daryl was frowning at the key and then he passed it to you.

“Take it if you like it.”

“No, I know it’s silly…” You said softly, twirling the key. “Gonna see if I can find what it opens, though.”

“Gonna try picking the lock.”

While Daryl worked on that you looked around the counter again until you found a small metal box half hidden in a drawer. You tried the key and it worked but there was nothing you could consider useful inside, just some handwritten letters, a couple of old pictures, tickets from the cinema…someone’s life memories. It made you feel melancholic again.

You closed it carefully and went to join Daryl, who was still fighting against the lock until you heard a click.

“Alright…”

“Do you think there are no walkers inside?” You asked worriedly before he could open the door.

“Nah, they’d be banging the door at the noise.”

Turned out the room was so small only one of you could get in, but inside Daryl found stored a couple of cans of gasoline.

“Ricks gonna like this,” Hel said, finally giving you a full smile.

“Are we ready?”

“I’m gonna give the place a last scoop, go out and see if Glenn and Maggie are ready too.

You frowned at him, you two had already combed the tiny place, but nodded and followed his instructions, walking out just in time to see Glenn and Maggie walking out the other store. You waved to them and they began walking to the main building but you wanted to wait for Daryl before joining them. He was out after not even a minute.

“Alright, come on,” he said, placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the others as you stepped through charred walkers again.

“Did you find something useful?” You asked hopefully to Maggie and Glenn.

“Well…I got a bag full of candy.” Glenn showed you a plastic bag with different kinds of candies in it. “But I think they’re questionable…I thought it’d make Carl happy, though.”

“And my sister, probably.” Maggie smiled fondly.

“They make me happy too.” You chuckled. “I call dibs on that toffees.”

“Also a couple cheap sunglasses…” Maggie showed you the neon pink and yellow sunglasses that none had bothered taking already. “This couple of scarves…” Those were less hideous. “And I picked up some books so we can have something to read.”

“I picked up magazines too!” You said, looking pointedly at Daryl, who smirked. “I got one about babies for Lori, I’m not sure if she’ll like it or if she’ll throw it to my head…”

All in all, your haul didn’t seem that impressive and you were a little disappointed.

“This’s normal, sometimes we come from runs empty-handed, I know it’s frustrating,” Glenn told you. “But we still have to scoop that area.”

The door was locked from the outside with several metal bars, to keep the walkers inside, you guessed, you could already hear them banging the doors, and you helped the others remove the bars though you were quite unsure about how to deal with the monsters inside. You trusted the others knew what to do, though.

They stopped when there was only a bar left and you recoiled as the door shook dangerously under the pushes of the monsters.

“Alright…you two push the door close and try to let it open just a little, so only a walker can poke its head out and I put them down one by one,” Maggie instructed, talking to Glenn and Daryl. “What do you want to do? Push the door or help me with the walkers?” She turned to you.

“I…I don’t know.” You shrugged helplessly. “You sure about this? What if they can’t hold the door and all the walkers get outside at the same time, they’d all fall on you.”

“We have done it before, it’ll be fine,” Glenn reassured you, though you were still rather uncertain.

“Alright…” Maggie was looking at you as if in deep thought. “You get behind with your gun in case more walkers get out and we can’t handle it, you put down the most you can.”

You nodded though you feel a bit unsure about shooting walkers in such proximity to your friends, afraid of missing and hitting one of them instead.

“Pitty I can’t use your crossbow, it’d be silent.” You told Daryl while he got ready for his part of the plan.

Luckily, you didn’t need to shot as the others carried on with the plan without accidents, Glenn and Daryl pushing the door so only one or two walkers could get their heads through it, only to have Maggie putting them down as they did. You couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place, but you shook off the feeling.

The area was big, with some corpses on the floor, and it was full of tables, more corpses sitting down or lying on them, some half eaten, and you wondered how they had died, most seeming to have been shot on the head.

To the left there seemed to be the kitchen and bar area and to the right, there was a staircase.

“What do you think there’s on the other floor?” You asked quietly and Maggie shrugged.

“More tables? What if Glenn and I go check it and you two scoop this floor, we can go to the kitchen together later.”

You all nodded and while Glenn and Maggie made their way to the stairs, Daryl placed a hand on your shoulder to guide you with him.

“Wait, why don’t you go to the bar and I go through the tables, see if I can find something useful?” You told him.

“You sure?” He looked at you uncertain.

“They’re all dead right?” You pointed at the corpses. “Doesn’t seem to be any walker around…I can do it.”

Daryl seemed to think it for a bit, seeming unsure, but finally nodded. “Don’t stray, stay where I can see you.”

“Sure thing.”

A couple of the corpses had suitcases and big bags with them, and you began rummaging through them, trying not to think much about going through dead people’s stuff. You got some very basic first aid kits and some hygiene products that you were sure everyone would appreciate and then began to chose the clothes that you thought would be the most useful and would suit the most of you.

You were a bit startled when you heard some growling and you turned around to see a walker coming from the corridor that led to the bathrooms.

“Got it.” You told Daryl, as loud as you dared, so he wouldn’t worry too much and kept scavenging through the bar. You grabbed the walker roughly and sank your knife into its head.

There were some more growling and you saw another one coming from down the corridor, so you went to put it down too.

“Y/N,” You heard Daryl’s voice coming from the main area as you turned the corner of the corridor. “Stay here.”

“It’s okay, there’s only one more, it’s fine.”

You assured, already reaching out to grab it by the neck. When it struggled, though, part of the skin and part of the meat came off, making your hand slip and sink into the disgusting goo. You barely had time to feel disgusted by it, as the monster’s hands grabbed you and it snapped at you.

You didn’t quite manage to get a good hold of it and not knowing what else to do, you lifted your machete and hit it as hard as you could into the monster’s forehead, sinking it in. There was a sickening crack but the walker stopped moving, your knife reaching the brain.

From the corner of your eye, you saw another one stumbling to you and panic rushed through you when you tried to yank back your knife and you couldn’t, the hit seemed to have embedded it too deep into the skull and it was stuck.

Panicking, you stepped on the corpse to hold it down while you yanked at your knife until the other walker was on you. You grabbed its wrist, struggling to keep its claws away, recoiling as it began to snap and try to bit you, until your back hit the wall.

You tried to push it away but it was strong, you were grunting at the effort of stopping its hands from grabbing you while dodging its snaps, your brain working at full speed as you tried to  think how to end it, trying not to let your anxiety overcome you as it screamed to you that this was your end.

No matter how much you pushed it back, the walker wouldn’t relent, neither as you tried hitting his stomach with your knee, hard as you tried you weren’t managing to overpower it and you couldn’t think og a way of getting away from it and killing it without any weapon.

“Y/N!”

Suddenly the walker stopped struggling and fell on you, pushing you against the wall. You pushed it hard away from you and when it fell on the floor you realized it was dead with an arrow in his head.

You looked up and saw Daryl rushing to you, grabbing your arms when he reached you.

“Are you okay? It didn’t bit you, did it?” He asked frantically and you shook your head, finding it hard to speak. “I told you not to stray!”

“I’m sorry…” You said weakly, guilty tears threatening to fall down your eyes.

“It’s okay.” Daryl let out a sigh and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggled to him, burying your face on his chest.

“Thanks.” You whispered, slowly calming down, and you felt his lips on your forehead.

“Y/N, are you okay?! What happened?!”

You heard Maggie’s panicked voice, she and Glenn seemed to have heard the commotion and they had rushed down, running to you and looking from the walkers to you and Daryl, who pulled away from you.

“I’m okay.”  You assured though you were still shaking and Maggie held you tight as you told her about the walkers you had encountered.

“You put them down?” She asked you.

“Just those two, Daryl killed that one, he saved me, my knife got stuck…” You explained, ashamed, even though nobody seemed to be blaming you for anything, they just seemed worried.

“How you managed to get it so stuck?” Glenn asked, trying to pull your machete out the walker’s skull, tanking him a few times until he managed, and you shrugged helplessly.

Back in the main area, you felt a bit better and less useless as you showed the others the stuff you had gotten from the suitcases.  Together you made your way into the kitchen, which was big and thankfully free of walkers. It took you all a bit of scooping around but finally, you managed to find a few cans of food and some dried vegetables that you hoped had been well preserved inside their hermetic packages.

“I’d say this had been quite a good run,” Glenn said cheerfully as you all got your haul into the car. “Food, gas, medical and hygiene supplies…we’ll be good for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Maggie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, noticing you weren’t as happy, you were still berating yourself for what had happened with the walkers. “Let’s go back to the camp.”

--

Well, it could have been worse, couldn’t it? Next chapter, we’ll see if those candies are edible...and we’ll see more talks between reader and Daryl. I’m sorry if some of you feel this story is moving slow, but I really enjoyed writing it like that.

Thank you all for reading! If you have time, please drop me a comment and let me know your thoughts about this!

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[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Misery Loves Company part 1

                                               Chapter Ten:

                           The One With Child Protective Services

Lemony felt bad about leaving Violet. But she was unharmed and she was asking too many difficult questions. He hated lying to her, so he found it better to simply ignore the subject altogether. He knew she was probably shaken up by the whole ordeal this morning but he knew she was a strong girl, she was stronger than he was at times. She got that from Beatrice. He frowned thinking of Beatrice. She was so young, she didn’t deserve to die for his mistakes and decisions. But that’s what VFD does to you. They take you, they ‘train’ you, they change you. They make you walk the tightrope of morality, telling you that no matter how wicked the deed is, if you are doing it for a noble cause, then it’s alright. But it wasn’t alright. It wasn’t alright then and it definitely wasn’t alright now. The two biggest mistakes of his life have resulted in Beatrice and Bertrand’s deaths. He wished that he could go back and stop those things from happening. He wished he could stop VFD from recruiting him or siblings or Beatrice. He wished that he could go back in time and take Beatrice with him. They could have lived the rest of their lives in Staind-by-the-Sea, they could have raised Violet together and maybe even have two more children. He sighed knowing that this was impossible. Even if his brilliant daughter could one day build a time machine, the ramifications of using it and fixing the past were too dire, too dangerous.

Lemony frowned thinking of all the choices he had made that had landed him to where he is today. Would it have been easier had I never been born? He thought but then immediately shook his head. Don’t think like that. If you were never born, then Violet would have never been born.Lemony loved his daughter, but he did often wonder how the world would be if he hadn’t existed. It was a crazy thought, it was a tragic thought, but it was one he thought of a lot in the past thirteen years. The lives he has ruined…, the lives he had ended. The friendships he had ruined and the schism he helped strengthen. All of that would not have happened had he never been born. He honestly believed that before his mistakes, VFD was succeeding in making the world a safer, quieter place. But then he and Beatrice fucked it all up.

He erased those dark thoughts from his mind for the time being. No matter what he had done to fail his friends, that organization, his siblings, and Beatrice in the past, he was going to fix. He was going to help Beatrice’s kids escape Olaf’s clutches. He had lied to Jacquelyn and Gustav when he had said he had a plan. He honestly didn’t. He had no idea how he was going to prove Olaf to be an unfit guardian, he was telling the truth when he told them he felt like it’d be pretty simple. He hadn’t seen that man in years and that suited him just fine. Lemony felt bad for what he had done, but it didn’t excuse anything that Olaf had done in retaliation. Lemony had a theory revolving around the cause of the Baudelaire fire, and if his investigation proved him to be right. Then Olaf has another thing coming.

As I am sure you are well aware that even to this day, the precise cause of the Baudelaire fire remains a mystery. No amount of research done by several concerned and curious parties has ever revealed what happened that fateful afternoon. There are several VFD agents who had tried to figure out what happened, which includes my trusted associate and myself, both Mr. Snickets, a brave and noble triplet who has quite the knack for journaling, a brave and noble triplet, whose secret library was very helpful when it came to our research of both the Baudelaire and Snicket case, and even Klaus Baudelaire, whose lost commonplace book helped me find that secret VFD library and whose dedication to figure out how his life was turned upside down was on par with Mr. Lemony Snicket’s. So many great minds had tried desperately to figure out how these unfortunate events started but I’m sorry to report that we may never truly know. Each volunteer had their own theories, I, myself, have my own theory but that is all they are. Theories that can’t be backed up entirely with undeniable evidence. It is a hope of mine to figure out what caused the fire, because if I ever do find Klaus and his siblings I would be more than happy to share with them my findings and put their minds at ease.

During his drive to the address, Jacquelyn had given him, Lemony pondered what his course of action would be. He packed his disguise kit in the trunk of the taxi and he had his spyglass with him in his pocket. But what was he to do? Lemony knew that he had to find a way to get the two Baudelaire orphans out of what he assumed were dreadful, unfortunate circumstances, and perhaps, help them solve the mystery of how they ended up in them. He did not care what kind of dangers it would put him in. He had to right his wrongs. He knew that trouble and strife could cover this world like the dark of night, or like smoke from a suspicious fire. He also knew that when that happened, all good, true, and decent people know that it’s time to volunteer. That’s exactly what he had done. If no one else from the organization was going to save these kids, he volunteered to do so.

The drive to Olaf’s wasn’t as long as he had hoped. It made him nervous knowing that Olaf resided in the same city as his daughter. How was I living in the same city as Beatrice and Olaf without knowing? It was true, Lemony and Violet moved a lot but they usually stayed in the same city. He had fantasized about taking Violet away from the city and to Staind-by-the-Sea but there were too many people who knew him there and too many memories that he rather leave in his past. He had several friends and associates there that he trusted for the most part. He just never went because then they would know about Violet and he couldn’t risk putting her in danger. He parked his taxi a few blocks down the road so that it wouldn’t seem too suspicious. He knew Olaf knew that Snickets liked to travel via taxi. That was the worst part about having an enemy that knew you...they know all of your tricks. The same could be said the other way around, he knew all of Olaf’s tricks. They had been trained by the same organization after all.

Lemony grabbed the disguise kit from the trunk and brought it to the back seat of the taxi, he looked over all the materials trying to decide what to use for his disguise. For once he wasn’t wearing a suit, he thought that would help Olaf recognize him. He had decided to wear plain clothes, a simple T-shirt and some blue jeans. He had a baseball hat to cover up his hair. He debated whether or not to wear one of the wigs from the kit. Maybe with long hair, I could look like a stoner? He pondered and then rolled his eyes. He hadn’t done this sort of thing in years and he was getting frustrated. Maybe I could pretend to be Child Protective Services, there to do a wellness check. Jacquelyn did inform him that the two orphans had come into Mulctuary Money Management to discuss something with Mr. Poe. She even noted that Klaus had a bruise on his cheek. Lemony got a bit heated. That fucker hit Beatrice’s son. He took a deep breath and tried his best to calm down. These children didn’t do anything to him. If he was still bitter and angry, he shouldn’t take his anger out on the children. It’s not their fault, that he and their mother had done Olaf wrong. He frowned. He knew that Olaf would rather have gotten his revenge on Beatrice, Bertrand, and himself but seeing that Olaf thought Lemony was dead and the Baudelaire parents were, in fact, dead, Olaf had no one else to exact his revenge on. Lemony wasn’t condoning this way of thinking, but he knew Olaf wouldn’t care. They would pay for the sins of their parents, one way or another. He thought, frowning then thinking about Violet. She was lucky in this sense. She was safe. With Lemony presumed dead and not many people even aware of her existence, Olaf had no reason to go after her.

Lemony began to disguise his face, he put a fake mustache on his upper lip and put a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He took off his hat and secured a blonde wig onto his head. He sat there thinking about a fake name. He couldn’t use any of the interchangeable aliases he had been using for some time now. Too suspicious. There had to be paper trails pertaining to each of his aliases somewhere. He had to come up with something on the spot. He decided that he’d think of something on his way there. He grabbed an empty briefcase from the trunk. He looked at himself in the reflection of the taxi’s windows. He felt as though this wasn’t enough. But it’ll have to do. Both his hair and mustache were blonde, his dark eyebrows were hidden behind the large sunglasses. He was dressed in less than professional clothes, but he’d figure away around that. He hoped the briefcase helped make him look professional.

He took a deep breath. He threw the disguise kit back into the trunk of the taxi and closed the trunk door. He began walking towards what he assumed to be Olaf’s house. The yard was atrocious and the house was grey and dark as if Olaf had stolen all of its color and light. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest as he knocked on the door. He took a quick mental note to not define any words or phrases, that would be a big giveaway to his identity.

A few moments later, Count Olaf answered the door and glared at the man that stood before him. Lemony held his breath unsure if Olaf recognized him or not. “Aren’t you a little old to be a Boy Scout?” he asked. Lemony held in a gag as the putrid smell of Olaf’s breath found its way into his nostrils. He could tell by Olaf’s eyes and his breath that he had been drinking.

“Good afternoon, sir. The names Joseph Swanson.” Lemony said in a rather thick New York-esque accent. “But you can call me ‘Joe’.” He extended his empty hand out to shake Olaf’s. Olaf continued to glare at the man making Lemony more nervous by the second.

“...Good afternoon, Joe.” Olaf said after a minute shaking the nervous man’s hand. “May I ask what you are doing here at my door?”

“I am from Child Protective Services and I am here to do a wellness check on...Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. We’ve received a few calls and they sent me down to check on this whole matter.”

Lemony watched as Olaf’s face went from tired to angry to calm in ten seconds flat. “Well, of course!” Olaf said in an enthusiastic voice, “May I ask who called you?”

“I’m sorry, sir. We aren’t allowed to give out names of concerned parties.”

“Of course not.” He replied in a rather annoyed tone. “None the less, the children are sleeping. Would it be alright if you wait outside while I go fetch them.”

“Very well. I’ll be right here.” Lemony replied.

“Lovely. Be right back.” Olaf said closing the door and locking it behind him. He gave a low growl as he headed up the stairs. He grabbed the walkie-talkie, “Bring the baby down.” he said into it.

The bald man replied, “What? Why?”

“Just fucking do it! Tell that brat to be on her best behavior.” Olaf hissed into the walkie-talkie. “And make sure she looks unharmed.”

He reached the attic bedroom and tried to open the door. But something was blocking his way. He rolled his eyes and began to knock on the door. No answer. He gave an angry sigh as he continued to pound on the door. “Orphan, you better let me in!” He called into the room. Still no answer.

Part of Olaf wondered if Klaus had died last night. That would be rather unfortunate timing. He had to produce both children to this nosey CPS agent. He tried knocking on the door again and furiously began turning the handle. After trying that for a couple of minutes, Olaf began to twist the knob of the door and pushed all his weight against the door. Eventually, the door began to slowly open, Olaf could now see that Klaus had barricaded the door with the bed that he was now asleep on. “Wake up, orphan.” he hissed in Klaus’ ear. Still nothing. He looked at the sleeping boy, he was breathing so he was indeed alive. Olaf looked around at the room and examined the mess. There was no way he was allowing any CPS caseworker into this room. Whatever Klaus had done to patch himself up, had worked but it created a big, bloody mess. He’d make Klaus clean this room later when the caseworker left.

Olaf pushed Klaus off the bed, which jolted the poor boy awake. His vision was blurry but he could see the silhouette of Olaf standing over him. Klaus began to tremble. “Please...leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough?” he asked his voice groggy and weak.

“Get your lazy ass up. We have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Klaus asked confused. Was Justice Strauss visiting the children to see if they were alright since her last conversation with Count Olaf? Did Mr. Poe think things through and realize that he might need to check on the children after all.

“Yes, a visitor.” Olaf hissed. “Apparently, someone had called CPS.”

Klaus was both excited and terrified at this. He was excited because maybe he and Sunny were going to be rescued and taken away from this Hell hole, but he was terrified at Olaf’s implications. Did Olaf think he’d be stupid enough to call CPS? He looked into the eyes of his guardian and immediately realized that this was the case. Olaf was glaring down at Klaus with his shiny eyes as if he wanted to set Klaus ablaze. Klaus shuddered and began to slowly crawl away from Olaf.

“I...I...I swear...I didn’t call them,” Klaus commented.

“I didn’t say you did. Why are you acting guilty?” Olaf asked his voice rising.

“I-I-I’m not. I just...I didn’t call them.” Klaus could feel the tears beginning to fall from his face.

“Then who did?”

“I...I...I don’t know. Justice Strauss? Mr. Poe?”

Olaf growled and then sighed. He took a deep breath. “Stop crying. I need you to look happy and healthy...and unharmed. We can discuss who called them later. But right now, I need you to be a good little orphan and go play the part. You will not only tell him that you are happy here, but you will tell them how great I am and how much you love living here with me. And Klaus, you better make him believe you. You will explain to him that this is a big misunderstanding and that you are sorry for wasting everyone’s time. Do you understand?”

Klaus simply nodded. “What about Sunny?”

“Unfortunately for me, I have to let her out of her cage...but she will go right back in the second that he’s gone.”

Klaus frowned at this. He wanted to bargain with Olaf but he was too frightened. Olaf had the upper hand. He now knew how psychotic and abusive Olaf can truly be and he didn’t want to experience that ever again.

“Now get dressed. Make sure that your wounds are completely covered.” Olaf said walking back downstairs. Klaus hurriedly got dressed as fast as his aching body allowed him. For Sunny! He reminded himself. He tried his best to walk downstairs in a normal fashion.

Olaf was already downstairs with the CPS caseworker. Olaf was holding Sunny in his lap and Sunny looked frightened. She just sat there and played the part of an unharmed infant. It made Klaus sick that Olaf was making Sunny play the part, too. Klaus sat down next to Olaf across the table from the caseworker.

Klaus noticed that the caseworker was frowning at him and Sunny. He didn’t understand why. Nothing was said yet. He shrugged it off, maybe the reality of seeing children in abusive situations with limited power made the man depressed. Klaus doubted that any CPS caseworker can save every child whose case file happened to land on their desk. Like in this situation, Klaus was nearly positive that this man was going to be unable to save himself and his baby sister.

“The name’s Joe Swanson. You must be Klaus.” the man said in his New York-esque accent. Klaus nodded and put on a smile. It wasn’t genuine but it was the best he could do in his current state of mind.

“How do you do?” Klaus asked.

“Very well and you?”

Klaus looked to Sunny and then to the caseworker. “...We’re doing fine. Just trying to get settled in after the loss of our parents.”

“Ah, yes. I am deeply sorry for your loss. I read about it in the paper.” the man said and his frown extended which confused Klaus and Sunny. “Now...I notice that you have a bruise on your face, Klaus. Can you tell me how that happened.”

Klaus’ heart started beating heavily in his chest. He was unsure of what to say. He knew for a fact that he and Sunny had not called CPS. He didn’t know if Mr. Poe or Justice Strauss had but who else would have? And if one of them called, they probably already told this man that Klaus had told them that Count Olaf struck him across the face. So he feared that if he told this man another story, that he would immediately know Klaus is lying. But he doubted Olaf wanted him to tell the man that he was struck across the face.

After a minute of contemplating a response. Klaus shrugged his shoulder slowly. “I fell,” he muttered.

“You fell?”

“I’m very clumsy. Ask anybody who knows me.”

Lemony frowned. He knew this was a bullshit lie. But he knew Klaus had a good reason to lie. Olaf was holding Sunny, so he probably is using Sunny as leverage against Klaus. Lemony wanted so badly to kill this man, but he knew it was better if he did this legally.

“Can you explain in detail, how you acquired the bruise?”

Klaus sighed. Couldn’t this man just take his bullshit lie as a legit answer and move on. Klaus looked again to Sunny, who frowned at him. Klaus couldn’t tell if it was a frown of sadness or disappointment. Was Sunny disappointed in him that he was lying to cover for Olaf? Didn’t she realize that he was only doing this to keep her safe? Maybe this wasn’t keeping her safe. Maybe this was keeping her in danger. What would lying do? It would keep them here at Olaf’s. Who knows when their next chance to escape would be? Klaus bit his lip. Olaf softly cleared his throat as if to tell Klaus to hurry up with a response. “...I think I was...running and I slipped on one of the rugs upstairs and I fell...hitting my cheek on one of the stairs. But it's fine...I’m fine.” Klaus said after another moment of eerie silence refusing to look over at his baby sister. For Sunny!  He thought holding back tears because he felt like he was letting Sunny and his dead parents down.

Lemony frowned at this response too. This wasn’t going to be easy. He needed to find reasonable cause to take the children out of this man’s house and Klaus wasn’t making this easy for him. He wasn’t mad at the boy, he understood exactly why Klaus was lying to him. In his golden days, both his siblings did anything they could to protect him as he did for them. He remembered working with Jacques to scare off many potential boyfriends that Kit acquired. He remembered Jacques and Kit offering to kick some schoolyard bully’s ass when he was seven. It’s what siblings do. They protect each other. Lemony was the youngest in his family, so he didn’t know what it was like to have a younger sibling to desperately want to protect. But he did have a daughter and although it wasn’t the same exact thing, it was vastly similar. So as he continued to ask question after question, listening to Klaus come up with decent answers that unfortunately, did not warrant suspicion. He eventually had to stop the interview. Lemony’s heart was heavy in his chest when he stood up and shook both Klaus’ and Olaf’s hands one final time. He wanted to break down crying. He wanted to let all of his anger loose on this vile man that stood before him. But he knew he shouldn’t. After mentioning to Olaf that he should really start taking better care of his house because there were many safety hazards for children. He bid the three good-bye. Slowly walking back to his taxi making sure that no one was following him. When he reached the taxi, he kicked the tire trying to release some of his pent up anger. He felt as though he failed those kids. He felt like he failed Beatrice.

He could feel his hot tears rolling down his face as he threw the briefcase into the passenger seat of the taxi. If the roles were reversed, Beatrice would have figured out how to save those kids. He thought. He believed this whole-heartedly. If these children had been his and he had been the one to die in a fire, Beatrice would have had these kids rescued by day one. Yeah, she might not have done it in the most legal way possible, but she would not have failed Lemony or those kids. Beatrice had never failed Lemony. Ever.

Hell, even Jacques or Kit would have been able to save them. Maybe Jacquelyn and Gustav were right. Maybe it would be beneficial to get his siblings’ help. Kit was brave and she rarely ever turned down a mission, no matter how much danger it put her in. Jacques was the same way, although he preferred to do things as ethical as possible. He wanted so badly to talk to them again, to see them again, to work alongside them again. But he knew it was an impossible feat. The Snickets were safer apart. He didn’t remember much about his parents, but Jacques told him when they were much younger that their parents had a saying, “Snickets take care of their own.” It was a saying that all three Snickets had adopted from their parents, it was what the other two would say when they were helping out the one in need. It was something he has said to Violet on a few occasions when he thought it was necessary. It was also the reason why he kept deciding to leave them out of this mess. “Snickets take care of their own”, to Lemony, this was a phrase which meant, “Keeping his siblings in the dark so he can keep them out of harm’s way.”

I wish I could go back in time and explain to Lemony how it did not matter if he involved his siblings because they would eventually both be involved in the tale of their niece and her half-siblings. I wish I could go back in time and tell Lemony that it would probably be better if he had involved his siblings this early on in the story. Maybe things would have turned out different. Maybe things could have been better. Of course, I have no true way of knowing this. For all I know, him involving them sooner could have, in fact, made everything worse. I do want to believe that if he had involved them, then the three Snicket siblings could have all died a bit happier, without the need of having to reminisce about the good old days when they went on secret missions together. But the sad fact remains that the Snicket siblings would remain estranged from one another for the rest of their sorry days. I hate to tell you this, but that’s just how the story goes.

Lemony sat in his taxi crying wondering what on Earth he could do next.

_________________________________________________________________

Once the caseworker had left, Olaf locked the door and glared at Klaus. “See, was that so hard?”

Klaus ignored him and kept looking at Sunny, who was still being carried by Olaf.

“You’re a decent little actor. Obviously, some of my talents have rubbed off on you.” Olaf commented. Klaus wanted so badly to roll his eyes but he knew better. He could hear Olaf’s threat in the back of his mind. He wasn’t going to do anything that would even remotely piss the rat bastard off.

Olaf began to walk towards the tower room still holding Sunny, who began to cry, realizing where Olaf was heading. Klaus shakingly followed. “Can...can I please have my baby sister back?” Klaus asked. Olaf ignored the young boy’s question and kept walking. “Please...we’ll behave.”

Olaf turned around to face Klaus, who flinched at Olaf’s sudden movement. “You may have aced that interview, but I am still very curious as towho called them in the first place. So until you are man enough to tell me the truth and accept your punishment, you may not have this feral brat back.”

“I already told you. I didn’t call them.”

“Then who did?”

“How would I know? I...I...I just know I hadn’t.”

“I might have a youthful glow, but I wasn’t born yesterday, orphan,” Olaf commented as they reached the tower room door. Olaf knocked on the door and the bald man answered. “Put the baby back in her cage until further notice.” He said handing Sunny over to the bald man. The bald man nodded, closing and locking the door behind him.

Klaus looked past Olaf and frowned at the tower room door. “Sunny…” he whimpered.

“Oh, she’ll be fine.” Olaf hissed in his ear. “I'd be more worried about yourself.”

Klaus began to shake rapidly. His eyes got wide with fear and panic. He started to breathe heavily. “W-w-when would I have had time to call them?” Tears were already falling from his face.

Olaf studied the boy for a moment. He narrowed his eyes towards the boy in heavy suspicion. “ You may not have called them, but you running off to tell that naive judge and the useless banker was a very foolish decision. ”

Klaus started breathing heavily. “I...I...know. It won’t happen again.”

Olaf leaned in towards Klaus, resulting in Klaus closing his eyes in fear. “Oh, I know it won’t happen again. Because you aren’t allowed out of this house ever! ” Olaf smiled a wicked smile when Klaus nodded. “Now get out of my face, orphan,” he said pushing passed Klaus, who stumbled down a few steps only to catch his balance.

[katekarnage7]

“Heartbreak Can Be Fixed”

Destiel Prompt Thing.

I found this awesome prompt when going through my home page so I thought I’d give it a shot!

This was a dialogue prompt, the dialogue was the first line and that prompt was fantastic. You can find the blogger who made it here: promptdumpster.

Here’s a quick warning for angst. Lots of angst. Also, this is an AU kind of thing so yep. There are a few injuries and things sustained in this, so reader discretion is advised!

The word count for this bad boy is 3,718. 

PS: Heartbreak Can Be Fixed is the name of this prompt-fic thingy. 

—

—

“You are the most stupid man I have ever laid my eyes on! And I have seen my fair share!” Cass shouts at him, pure rage in those captivating blue eyes. “I told you it was a freakin’ misunderstanding, Cass! What else can I say?!” Dean shouts back. This whole thing is ridiculous.

“So what, you just tripped and somehow you were all over Anna? I’m not a fool, Dean!” Cass is pacing around their kitchen as he yells, the bowls and measuring cups from when Cass was making dinner are still out. He must’ve abandoned his dinner plans when he got the call. 

“Meg told me what happened,” Cass says, crossing his arms as if to protect himself from the world. As if to protect himself from Dean. It stings. “She didn’t actually see what went down, did she?” Dean’s words are phrased like a question but said like a statement.

“She saw enough, Dean!” Cass’s already gravelly voice is breaking with desperation. “You’re an idiot!” Cass yells and Dean can see the beginnings of tears in those blue depths that he fell in love with.

“Cass, nothing happened, I swear!” Dean says, stepping towards his boyfriend but Cass takes a step back and throws his hands out. He’s warning Dean not to come any closer. Dean feels like he’s been hit by a semi. The pain in his chest threatens to overcome him.

“Anna just needed some help getting something from the top shelf, she was on a stool, she fell and I caught her! Nothing else happened, Cass!” Dean says, pleading with Cass to understand. “Meg said she saw you two kissing, Dean,” Cass says in a quiet, heartbroken voice that makes Dean want to wrap him in his arms.

“She saw something else, Cass, I swear,” Dean says, forcing himself to stare right into Cass’s eyes and when he does, he sees the pain, the heartbreak, the absolute despair in those eyes that have been so alight with humor and kindness since the day he met the man in front of him.

He can’t believe he’s the one to make them lose that light.

Suddenly, Cass pushes past him, out of the kitchen and into the front hall. Dean takes off like a shot behind him. “Where’re you going?” Dean calls after him. Cass stands in the main hall, grabs his coat from the hanger by the door and grabs his keys.

“I’m going to stay with Gabriel,” Cass says matter-of-factly. Cass’s back is to him still. “I’ll be back to pick up my stuff tomorrow. It’d be best if you weren’t here.” Cass’s words break his heart, he feels like he can’t breathe. “Cass, we can work this out, you have to know that I wouldn’t ever do that you.” He begs.

Cass turns slowly and his eyes… God, there’s no emotion left. “I don’t believe you,” Cass whispers and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he’s out the door, leaving Dean to collapse on the floor and finally, the tears start flowing.

—

Castiel slams the door behind him, one last spark of energy before it disappears entirely. He still can’t believe that Dean would do that to him, after everything they’ve been through. He can’t believe that Dean would just end it like that! Well, he supposes he’s the one who ended it but his boyfriend - ex? - gave him little choice in the matter.

He knows that they should work it out, after all, what if Meg really is wrong? What if Dean was telling the truth and he’s just to overwhelmed by emotions to see that? Either way, he knows one thing for certain; he can’t be here right now.

He takes off down the stairs of their apartment building. Why bother with the elevator? And when he reaches the lobby, he steps out into the freezing winter air. 

Lawrence, Kansas, is nice in the winter, snowy and somewhat stormy but he likes that aspect. Usually. Right now, however, he just wants to get the hell away from Dean Winchester and the thoughts of him and Anna… 

He shakes his head and takes off towards his 1987 Lincoln Continental. He loves this car, perhaps not as much as Dean loves his Impala ‘Baby’ as he’s called it since before they met, though, Castiel himself has monikered his car ‘Grace’ for no particular reason, he supposes, but perhaps it’s an ode to his religious family.

Not that Castiel is really in touch with them anymore. Well, all of them except for Gabriel. His two older brothers, Lucifer and Michael are massive, well, as Dean would say, dicks. They constantly fight and it’s only gotten worse since their father’s death.

At least, that’s what he’s been told by Inias. Seeing as both Castiel and Gabriel took off at the first chance they got, neither of them have had much contact with their family but Inias is one of the only brothers that he can tolerate, other than Gabriel.

He quickly unlocks his car and gets in, sliding the keys into the ignition and starting the car before Dean can come after him. If Dean is coming after him. He can’t fathom why Dean would do anything with Anna but sometimes Dean Winchester can be an impulsive, bull-headed fool.

Castiel doesn’t know if they can fix this. Obviously, he wants to have a little space and time to think things over and then maybe, just maybe, they could talk it out and see if it can be fixed.

He loves Dean, he really does, with all of his - currently shattered - heart but he’s not sure if they can bounce back from this. Especially not if Meg was telling the truth. He hopes she wasn’t. He prays to God that she was wrong but… A nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach says otherwise.

He pulls out onto the road in front of the apartment building and drives in the direction of Gabriel’s apartment. He doesn’t look back until the building disappears from his rearview mirror.

The roads are icy this evening. They have a tendency to get this way during the winter so Castiel tries to walk more. People are rather foolish if they don’t handle ice on a regular basis and there’s an uptick in automobile related accidents, however, everyone in Lawrence is careful, unlike in other cities he’s been in over the course of his travels.

He’s a lawyer so he used to travel quite a bit for his firm. Not all firms have their lawyers travel as much but people from all over the world would pay for their services and in turn, Castiel’s services.

That’s how he met Dean in the first place. He was working a case in California, it was a relatively high-profile case because the defendant was a man of importance in Los Angelos and he was accused of sexually assaulting women then blackmailing them.

He swears, some of the scum he’s defended. That was when he met Sam Winchester, a prosecutor with an axe to grind. Sam despised the defendant and frankly, Castiel agreed.

Eventually, the man was convicted and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. Castiel thought he should have gotten more but that was the sentencing. After the trial, he met Sam a few more times and eventually they became friends when Castiel was stationed in California for a bit longer on another case.

Castiel met Sam’s brother Dean while Dean was visiting him. They met and after some time, they fell in love, even though Dean wasn’t out of the closet then. Dean had been visiting Sam for two months and at the end of that time, when back to Lawrence.

Castiel and Dean started dating - in secret - after a month of his visit to Sam and continued dating even after Dean went back and eventually, Castiel decided to quit the job at his old law firm and start one in Lawrence with his brother Gabriel.

It had always been a dream of his and with Dean, well he couldn’t see a reason not to. He loves Dean and now that he’s slightly calmer, he realizes that Meg must’ve been wrong. He and Dean have far too much history for Dean to ever do something like that.

He should turn around and sort things out with Dean, so, when he comes to the next light, he decides to make a U-turn, he’s only a couple of blocks away from Gabriel’s apartment now, but he needs to talk with Dean.

As he is halfway through the turn a car speeds through the intersection and suddenly, everything is in slow motion as he watches the other car hurtle towards him. His last coherent thought is to cover his head and then everything goes black.

—

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on the floor, his back to the door that Cass slammed. He cried until there were no tears left to cry and has been sitting in a kind of haze since. He wants to get up and get a drink. He wants to drink until he forgets everything that happened.

It really was just a stupid misunderstanding and right now he wants to kill that bitch Meg for lying to Cass! He’s always known of her conniving behavior towards his boyfriend but this is something new.

He wished Bobby had never hired her to handle the PR side of things. Bobby sucks at that shit so he needed someone, but why her? The second she met Cass she was all over him, in fact, Dean would bet good money that right now she’s playing all sweet and apologetic ‘Oh, Cass, I’m so sorry that Dean would do that you, blah, blah, blah’.

He clenches his fist. There is the possibility that she thought something happened but knowing Meg? She’s a stone cold bitch and why Cass is trusting her is baffling enough.

God, he hates this whole situation. He wishes that Cass would just come back but he knows that his boyfriend - hopefully not ex - needs time to cool off and once he’s had that, they can talk, but still… Dean’s worried. They’ve never gotten in a fight like this before…

He’s not sure what’s going to happen and even though he loves Cass, he knows about Cass’s worries. He’s had them since the moment they met. The guy is basically an angel in human form and yet he thinks he’s not the best damn thing that’s ever happened to Dean.

His self-awareness needs work. God, Dean just hopes he’ll come back. Even if he was the least self-aware person in the world, Dean would still love his stupid ass until they both ended up six feet under.

He sits on the floor a little longer before standing. His legs are wobbly and his right foot fell asleep because of his lack of movement. He drags himself to their bedroom.

Everything is clean. Cass isn’t the type to throw someone’s stuff all over the floor and break vases. No, Cass is the type who would leave everything completely organized so the could come to get it later.

He realizes with a painful jolt that there’s already a suitcase open and waiting on the floor. This is really happening. He takes deep breathes, trying to remind himself that once they talk this all out, everything will be okay. Please let everything be okay.

He collapses in bed and suddenly, the exhaustion from the day sinks in and he drifts off to sleep.

—

He wakes up to the seemingly ear-splitting sound of a ringing phone. Why the hell is his phone ringing? He’s about to nudge Cass to answer it but then he realizes Cass isn’t there.

He looks out the window and realizes it’s still the middle of the night. Who would be calling at this godforsaken hour? His heart is in his throat when he realizes that it might be Cass calling to say he’s coming back or… Or he doesn’t know but he fumbles to pick the phone up.

He reads the caller ID and his heart sinks. It’s Gabriel. He’s about to get a fucking big bro lecture that he does not need at this hour of the night - morning? - and he would let it ring and not answer it, but something inside him pushes him to answer.

“What, Gabriel? If you’re going to go on some dumb rant I am not in the mood to hear-” Dean begins to say but Gabriel cuts him off. “Dean. Get the fuck over to the Lawrence Memorial Hospital,” Gabriel says, his voice hard and stressed.

“Why? Is everything okay?” Dean asks, a nagging feeling spawning in the pit of his stomach with every word Gabriel says. Gabriel didn’t call him Deano, something is seriously wrong. “It’s Cassie, Dean,” Gabriel says and suddenly, the world fades into static around him. He can’t breathe. Cass. 

—

His hands shake as he bolts straight out of bed to grab his jacket and keys. He’s grateful for the fact that he fell asleep in his clothes. Gabriel’s words echo in his head as he bolts down the stairs into the lobby.

It’s Cassie. Get the fuck over here. It’s Cassie. Lawrence Memorial. He can’t seem to quiet the words so he focuses on running to his Baby, both them. How he gets into his Impala and onto the road is a haze of panic.

The entire drive is Gabriel’s words and his and Cass’s fight from earlier on repeat. It’s like a Greatest Hits of shit in his head right now. He can’t completely focus on the road. The icy nature of it means he could easily crash right now but somehow he makes it to the hospital in one piece.

He rushes in through the doors and is immediately wrapped into a bear hug by none other than Gabriel. “I’m glad you’re here, Dean,” Gabriel mutters before releasing him. Gabriel looks exhausted.

“Where is he?” Dean asks, his voice comes out like a broken croak of desperation. “Surgery,” Gabriel answers. “What happened?” Dean asks, all but begging Gabriel to give him something. “He, um, he got into a car crash,” Gabriel says, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling.

“From what I’ve figured out it seems like it was a drunk asshole or someone who doesn’t know how to fucking drive in the snow. The driver probably didn’t realize how slick the fucking ice was and then…” Gabriel trails off.

Dean feels a hot flash of anger in his chest. “Where is this jackass?! I swear to God if Cass dies I’ll kill him!” Dean all but yells. “Looks like God already did it for ya, Deano,” Gabriel says and gives him a weak smile.

“There were two women and a man in the car with him. One of the women made it out with minor injuries and the other two have more serious injuries but nothing they can’t recover from,” Gabriel says, looking anywhere but at Dean.

“How do you know all of this?” Dean asks, trying to calm his breathing and not think about how Cass, the love of his goddamn life, might be dying on a table somewhere in the hospital where he is just out of Dean’s reach. “One of the nurses took pity on me,” Gabriel says.

“How long have you been here?” Dean asks. “Long enough to get some shitty hospital coffee,” Gabriel says, motioning to the coffee cup abandoned on the seat behind him. At the expression on Dean’s face, an expression that clearly states that he’s not in the mood for Gabriel’s bullshit right now, Gabriel folds.

“About thirty minutes.” Dean balks. “Thirty minutes? When did you call me?” Dean asks, staring at the much shorter man with, what he hopes, is a firelike rage in his eyes. “As soon as I got here,” Gabriel says as if he’s offended by the implication.

“Deano, as much as we may argue, Cassie loves you and I’m not enough of a dickhead to not let you see him when he’s in the goddamn hospital,” Gabriel says. “So you’re admitting that you are, at least partially, a dickhead?” It’s not really a question anymore, more of a statement.

“You know, it’s a wondrous thing, the fact that you got Cassie to love you even with all of your aching stupidity,” Gabriel says, busting out the big boy words. “Thanks, Gabe, glad we’re friends too,” Dean says and then, silence falls.

After a few moments, Dean takes a deep breath. “What do we do now?” Dean asks, biting down on his lower lip to calm himself. The moment of laughter in his panic was nice but now everything is replaced with an aching sense of worry. “We wait and pray to whatever God is out there that Cassie comes back to us.”

—

The first time he wakes up, everything is quiet. Strangely quiet. He tries to open his eyes but when he does all he sees is a bunch of doctors and nurses running around and a blinding light above him. He’s on some sort of moving table… A stretcher, perhaps.

Everyone around him seems to be panicking. Why are they so worried? Castiel wonders. Everything seems so peaceful with no sound. He can’t fathom why anyone would feel panic in this situation.

Then, the pain hits him and he sinks back into unconsciousness. 

—

 The second time he wakes up he registers the pain immediately, however, this time he doesn’t black out. He forces his eyes to open. He’s in a hospital room. Panic sets in. What happened? He tries to focus and remember what’s going on but it’s difficult.

Suddenly, he remembers with a gasp. Dean. Castiel himself was hit by a car while going to Dean. He feverishly looks around the room until his eyes fall on a certain someone fast asleep in a chair by his bed.

Dean’s head is resting on the bed by his legs. He gently moves them so as not to disturb him. Castiel feels a sense of fondness wash over him because Dean is right here, beside him, like always.

How could he have ever doubted that? And with that thought in mind, he drifts off to sleep once more.

—

The third time he wakes up, he hears crying. His eyes fly open only to see a disheveled Dean Winchester, still by the foot of his bed, even though it must have been hours since he last woke up.

Dean is crying with his face buried in the blankets of Castiel’s bed. “I’m sorry,” Dean says with a sob. Castiel, despite the ache in his bones, reaches down and runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. “It’s okay,” Castiel manages to mutter just before Dean all but jumps out of his skin.

“Cass?” Dean says, raising his head to look at him. Dean sounds so broken and tired. His beautiful green eyes are red and puffy. His cheeks are tear-stained and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, even though it sends bolts of pain through his throat. “Thank God,” Dean says, quickly raising his hand to paw at his wet cheeks. “I’m sorry, I know you must hate me right now but…” Dean trails off, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Why on Earth would I hate you, Dean?” Castiel asks. Pain be damned. “Because, well, I… Wait… You don’t, um, hate me?” Dean asks and the vulnerability in his eyes is a rare sight. Dean doesn’t like to feel vulnerable, Castiel knows that.

“Of course I don’t. I was coming back to talk you,” Castiel says, reaching to take Dean’s hand. “But it’s my fault that you were even on the road! I’m sorry. I should go,” Dean says, making a move to stand up but despite every part of his body objecting, Castiel manages to wrench Dean closer to him with the grip on his hand.

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left, Dean, stop taking all the blame, beloved,” Castiel says. He doesn’t care about Dean and Anna, he knows now that Dean would never do that and even if he did, Castiel doesn’t believe it.

“Beloved? Cass, you were ready to walk out the door, what changed?” Dean asks. “I wasn’t even truly ready to leave you. Have more faith in me, beloved,” Castiel says, rolling his eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean says with mock-anger, but Castiel knows him too well, he knows he’s not really angry. “I believe you, Dean, and a near-death experience kind of puts things in perspective. I trust you,” Castiel says and he knows his trust isn’t misplaced. Dean Winchester is a good man and that is the only thing Castiel knows for certain.

Dean’s eyes are shining with an indiscernible emotion. “I love you, Dean,” Castiel says, his hand wrapping tighter around Dean’s. “I love you too, angel,” Dean replies, coming in close to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Castiel asks. “He’s out getting some better goddamn coffee,” Dean says with a watery laugh. “How long have you been up, Dean?” Castiel asks, examining the face of his beloved.

“Three days,” Dean says. Castiel bolts straight up, ignoring the flash of pain. “Easy! You’ll rip your stitches!” Dean says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been here for three days and you haven’t slept at all?!” Dean balks. “I, uh, I got some sleep,” Dean says.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean Winchester,” Castiel says, staring him down. Suddenly, there’s a laugh from the door. “Aww, you guys are totally adorbs! When did you guys get married?” A nurse with red-hair says. A nametag on her scrubs informs him that her name is Charlie.

Dean blushes a deep shade of red and before he can stammer out a response Castiel responds for him with a wicked grin. “Hopefully, we’ll be getting married soon,” Castiel says and Dean looks back at him, the blush still tinting his cheeks and ears.

“Say what?” Dean asks. His eyebrows are almost in his hair. “What do you say, beloved, want to get married?” Dean smiles, even though the blush intensifies. “Sure, angel.”

Thank you all for reading! I quickly wanted to say that no, Dean was not cheating on Cass. Meg was just being a meanie. I also wanted to say that I don’t hate Meg, in fact, I love her dearly, but I needed a villain and not that many ladies are into our beloved Castiel (even though they should be because he’s adorable).

This was a really fun prompt to write and I’m hoping to do more in the future! :)

[mottlemoth]

What would a Mystrade GOC AU look like to you?

Thank you for devastating my entire universe with ten words, secret person. 

You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve wildly overthought my answer for you, as God’s Own Country was already crippling me with its wonderfulness. The addition of Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade has now broken my brain for good.

I don’t know if I could write it as a straightforward ‘put Mystrade into this exact situation AU’ - mainly because of Mycroft. Making him life-long working class, comfortable with daily heavy labour (and helping sheep to give birth??), would break his character so much that he wouldn’t be recognisable any more.

So I’d probably try to concentrate on catching the feeling of the relationship, instead of being precise with the situation. I’d keep it in a farming setting, obviously. Just make some tweaks.

I’m imagining that the Holmeses could be a wealthier farming family who take advantage of migrant labour, so they’re very hands-off with the farm. Mycroft still has Johnny’s incredible loneliness, working under his father’s wishes and isolated from all other people. I’d include the casual sex encounters, but have them take place with the migrant workers - men he knows will be gone with the harvest. He absolutely hates himself for it. His father exploits them for labour; he then exploits them for sex. He’s so lonely that he’s become bitterly cold. The thought of being truly vulnerable with someone terrifies him. He doesn’t deserve company, he thinks. Skin will do. (I think there’s room in this story for a Sherlock who went off into the world after university, while Mycroft - the eldest son - was expected to return to take over the business. Sherlock, though enjoying far more freedom in life, has fallen into drugs. Mycroft concludes that life always leads to loneliness and misery.)

Then Greg, a labourer, arrives one spring. I’d maybe have an awkward early encounter where he quietly rebuffs Mycroft’s advances. Instead of being sent lambing together, there’s an unexpected accident. The two of them end up unintentionally stranded on the fells for some reason. Mycroft relies on Greg to keep him alive through the night. There’s body heat sharing. They talk a little. Making their way back to the farm the next day through the snows, Mycroft proves himself to be utterly hopeless in an outdoors situation. Greg has to order him around to get him back alive. 

Their intimate relationship starts not long after, when they’re back at the farm. Mycroft’s father has gone away on business for a week or so, leaving Mycroft in charge. He’s on his own in the house and has started thinking. He and Greg are now incredibly aware of each other; Mycroft feels like he’s falling apart.

Greg quietly breaks into the house one night. Mycroft wakes up to hear his bedroom door opening and finds Greg there, his eyes soft and dark. He pulls back the covers of his bed. They have very slow and intimate sex most of the night, then every night after that. When they’re not making love, they talk, lying together in Mycroft’s bed. Mycroft shares more and more of his soul. Greg moves into the farmhouse for the week; they cook dinner together each evening.

The night before Mycroft’s father is due back, Mycroft is quietly nervous about what his father’s return will mean for their relationship. He doesn’t know how to confide his distress to Greg, and instead starts talking very generally about his father. Greg, too honest, thinking they’re close enough for him to say this, tells Mycroft the family’s business model of exploiting migrant workers is unsustainable - it’ll collapse some day. 

Mycroft has spent his whole life trying to support this burning wreck of a farm, even though he doesn’t want to. He gets defensive and angry. They have a furious argument that ends with Mycroft kicking Greg out of the farmhouse. 

Three days later, when he has a casual encounter with another worker, he makes sure Greg knows about it. Greg, deeply hurt, leaves in the night. His paperwork says he’s gone to another farm in Scotland.

Mycroft tells himself he doesn’t care. The business is what matters. He drives all his energy into it, telling himself he’s finally learned his lesson about opening up to other people, and he should never have attempted to try.

One afternoon Mycroft’s father calls him into his office - and calmly drops the bomb that he’s selling the farm. He and Mycroft’s mother are retiring to Spain. 

Mycroft, horrified, asks what percentage of the sale he’ll be receiving, only to hear it’s a pitiful minimum. His father doesn’t see why Mycroft thinks he’s entitled to his parents’ hard-earned retirement fund.

Broken, Mycroft leaves in the middle of the night. He takes only what he can carry. He spends a couple of days travelling to the farm in Scotland, sleeping on coaches and eating whatever he can find at service stations. At the first farm, he learns that Greg has already moved on. He journeys on to the new address, taking buses and walking when he has to. He finds that it’s a smaller business where they focus on organic products. They have a gift shop, a tea room, and they make their own cider. Greg is a supervisor there. Mycroft finds him in the orchard, where he’s inducting new workers in their jobs.

Mycroft can barely speak. He tries to tell Greg he’s sorry, that he was wrong. 

Greg is guarded; he heard about the sale of the Holmes farm. He suggests Mycroft’s only here because he’s got nowhere else to go.

Mycroft clams up. He realises he doesn’t know how to show Greg that it’s love. He doesn’t know how to explain. He was never taught how, and even now when he needs to, he just doesn’t have the words. He realises he’s starting to cry - and that he’s failed. 

He hugs Greg, shaking, one last time, then without a sound he steps away.

He quietly leaves along the road he took to come here. 

As he walks, he finally starts to cry. He fumbles for his return train tickets from inside his coat, barely able to see them through his tears. Tried, he thinks. It doesn’t make anything better. He can’t even make himself cold anymore. He gets the bus that will take him back to the nearest town, to the train station, pale and crying with some small memento of Greg held tightly in his hand. He doesn’t know what he’ll do now, but it hardly matters.

Two minutes down the road, the bus comes to a halt. There’s honking and shouting. Distracted from his grief by the noise, Mycroft cranes his head to see what’s going on. 

There’s a tractor blocking the road. Greg swings down from it, comes to the open doors of the bus and gets a load of grief from the driver.

Shaking, Mycroft gets off the bus.

As it drives away, Greg wraps Mycroft quietly in his arms. 

Mycroft nuzzles into his neck and cries. 

That night, in Greg’s quiet and comfortable home on the estate, he holds Mycroft close in his small single bed and strokes his hair. He gets Mycroft talking at last. It’s a long night of tears. In the morning he brings Mycroft breakfast, toast and tea, and they sit eating together as the sun comes up. Cradled in Greg’s arms, Mycroft whispers against his chest that he’s sorry. Greg cups his face and kisses him.

Their quiet happy ever after: Mycroft ends up working for the smaller farm, too. He and Greg help the place to thrive. Another spring rolls around, and a sunny afternoon finds Mycroft painting the fence of their cottage, on his knees on the front path as he works slowly and carefully with the brush. 

He becomes aware he’s being watched, and looks up to find Greg grinning down at him, holding two mugs of tea with the bags still in.

“You carry on at that pace,” Greg says, nodding at the half-finished gate, “it might just be done by winter.”

Mycroft’s face opens into a smirk. He flicks the brush at Greg, spattering him with paint. 

Greg grins at once. “Right.” He throws the mugs aside onto the lawn, seizes another brush and gets after Mycroft as he vaults the fence, chasing his partner laughing across the hillside. He takes Mycroft down with a tackle from behind, pins him to the grass and paints a stripe across each cheek as Mycroft laughs and struggles, then one all the way up his nose.

The final shot is them lying in the grass together, covered in paint, giggling and panting as they kiss.

[wevegottogetaway]

Whirlwind - Part 1

Hello lovelies, 

It’s a genuine and nerve-racking pleasure for me to launch my very first series Whirlwind. If you like the sound of TopGun!Harry, this story is just about made for you. I really put my whole and then some in this first chapter, and really hope it’ll get a few of you hooked up. Anyway, the whole story should be about 10 Parts and I’ll try and update as fast and regularly as I can. I won’t say much more except enjoy and don’t be afraid to let me know if you do!! Any feedback of any kind or absolutely welcome!

All the happiness xx

Part I - Mistral

Time seems to slow down but the speedometer on Aella’s Triumph says otherwise. As the needle flirts with the 124mph mark, it’s hard to tell wether she’s the one chasing after the wind or the other way around. Miles after miles, her beloved motorbike swallows up the empty road offering itself before her, almost begging her to throw speed limits cautions to the wind. Speed has no secret for Aella though. Brown eyes steady on the asphalt, her focus is unswerving. Yet, she’s never felt more free and insouciant. 

Except maybe when she’s flying. 

In the tight confine of her Tomcat, as she defies other kinds of laws, Aella seeps in a whole new world. One where she makes her own physics, her own rules. One where the sky in no longer a limit and neither is her gender. Because when she occupies the cockpit of the F-14 - a baby only a handful of aviators are lucky to even sit in - she’s just that: an aviator. A squadron unit who receives missions and completes them. Once her feet tread the tarmac though, the reality is quickly sobering. That’s why Aella has learnt to savor each one of the limited hours she spends in the in-between realm of the stratosphere.

Tilting her head briefly to look at the clear sky above her, Aella lets a smile grace her lips as she realizes she’ll be back up there very soon. And in high amounts at that. A few years ago, she could have only dreamt to be recruited as part of the most elitist of naval aviation programs in the world. But after years of working twice as hard as her fellow Navy fighter pilots and putting up with their never-ending bullying, her resilience has finally paid off. 

On that note, those douchebags can respectfully kiss her ass (the memory of their crest-fallen faces when their Commander announced her promotion in front of all of them is still one of her favorite).

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just life. But no matter how serendipitous the death of Navy fighter Jonathan Evans, she’ll be the one taking his place in the US Navy’s Fighter Weapons School’s Top Gun program. It was a regrettable news but one that changed Aella’s destiny forever.

San Diego’s sun is just as blazing as LA’s, but the nice breeze the city benefits from neighboring the ocean makes it easier to breath. The streets are void of the usual hustle and bustle that inhabits the city of angels, but the palm-trees-lined streets seem to remain a consistent feature of the Californian landscape. 

After driving in two hours what should have been a three hours ride, Aella finally pulls up in front of a single-story condominium situated on the street that runs alongside the shore. Taking in the magical scenery that surrounds her new place, she finds herself standing front row for the sun’s crepuscular show.

Aella has always loved sunsets. She fell in love with their ephemeral hues when she was 7 and already wanted to make the sky hers. At 25 years of age, they now serve as a reminder that regardless of the fact she knows it like the back of her hand, the blue immensity still withholds secrets that are meant to remain forever’s mysteries. 

Aella finally makes her way to her new home and her eyes immediately fall on the three large boxes that she had sent from LA the week prior, as per US Navy’s request. Waiting for her on the floor, they seem quite a bit lonely in the otherwise empty room. The place is small but well designed enough to be comfortable. The L-shape kitchen directly on the right upon entrance shares one main open space with the living room and dining room, though the term "room" is to be taken loosely. Mostly, they consist of a dining table placed in the center, and a sofa facing a TV set at the back. Between the two, french doors lead the way to a small garden; just enough space for a sun lounger and a small outdoor table. 

Aella doesn’t expect to be around much as most of her days will be spent at the training center, but as she starts unpacking, she can already picture herself living there anyway. Early runs on the beach, morning coffees out with the birds chirping the news of the day and some lazy reading on the lounger when she’s lucky to have a day off. That night, as she lays on her bed waiting to be taken in Morpheus’ arms, Aella relishes in the jitters of happiness that course through her whole. 

She can’t remember the last time she was so impatient for tomorrows. 

To say the San Diego Fighter Weapons School’s campus is huge would be an understatement. Aella has been on plenty bases during her short naval aviator career, but they all pale in comparison with the three massive hangars standing ahead of her. Deeply rooted on these holy grounds, they serve as home for no less than 30 of the most powerful aircrafts ever designed in the world. Perched on her Triumph, Aella can’t help but slow to a more moderate speed as she drives past them. She can feel her heart bouncing in joy at the sight of the F-14 Tomcats, F/A-18 Hornets and F-16 Fighting Falcons neatly aligned like pawns on a chessboard ready to be pressed into service. 

Finally, the main buildings come into view. They house all the administration offices as well as lecture and conference rooms. Indeed, part of the Top Gun program takes place indoors (that is to say not in a cockpit) as trainees are taught advanced combat strategy, theories of air-to-air and air-to-ground missions, and most painful of all, the riveting matters of astrophysics. In addition to their scientific knowledge and flying skills, the recruits will also be tested on their physical fitness. 

That’s what Aella dreads the most. While she could probably recite all of Newton’s laws in her sleep and fly a supersonic twin-engine, variable-sweep wing fighter aircraft with an arm in a cast, she’s positive the physical examination is what might give her the most trouble. Not that she’s in bad shape. Obviously one has to be quite fit to be able to handle 25 tons of titanium rocketed at more than 1500mph. But alas, the minimum requirements generated by the State for the final physical examination have yet to be adapted to female dispositions. 

The military field has definitely still plenty of room left for improvement when it comes to women’s interests… 

Two men in their service uniforms are casually conversing in the parking lot when Aella pulls up with her Triumph. One seems to be in the middle of a thrilling story judging by his gesticulating limbs, while the other listens to him cigarette pinched between his lips. As soon as the latter’s eyes fall on Aella though, he interrupts his friend with two taps on his torso. The shock on his face quickly turns into a condescending smirk as his eyes shamefully scan Aella from head to toe. His friend turns around intrigued and it’s not long before his features mirror the same irksome smug. 

For a few seconds too many, Aella doesn’t react. She simply stares at the jerks standing a few feet from her like they might be two very realistic-looking hallucinations. A sick jock her brain is playing on her by materializing ghosts from her past when she’s least expecting them. Aella doesn’t know who she’s the most angry at: Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for looking at her like she’s a hot commodity or herself because she’d let her guard down. 

It takes all of her self-control and then some to keep her from rushing over and giving them a piece of her mind. Instead she just swallows back the crude remarks she’s dying to throw at them and puts her uniform cap on. Maybe there weren’t checking her out but the Triumph behind her instead. Maybe she just bumped into the two assholes of the program. Maybe the 13 other recruits will turn out to be actual decent human beings who acknowledge women’s worth in the Navy and will treat her as an equal. Aella tries to keep the positive thoughts coming as she heads towards the main building for the induction speech.  

Still, she can’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  

The effervescence of the conference room is almost palpable as loud chatter and boisterous laughters bounce off its walls. Taking in the glorious sight of her fellow trainees, Aella already feels like an outsider. Easily distinguished by their uniform, they’re all bantering like they’ve all known each other their entire life, even though the program hasn’t officially started. 

From afar she recognizes the two dumbasses from the parking lot sitting on tables as they’re gathered around a balky blond man completely sprawled out on a chair with aviator sunglasses tucked in the front of his kaki shirt. Because of his lazy posture, he has to look up at his disciples but it is clear that he’s the last person to be looked down on. 

Aella already despises the narcissistic vibe he exudes. That disdainful and self-assured attitude which makes her want to rip his stupid head off. It’s certainly not the first of his kind she’s had to partially work with and sadly, it will definitely not be the last.

"Oi, Rex! How’s it goin’ man?" Another block yaps.

"Snyder," Rex chuckled. "‘Was doin’ good till ya ugly face showed up"

"Ah, ’s not what the ladies say…"  Snyder replies, completely unfazed by the playful dig made at him.

"That’s cause you woo them drunk, you bastard." The whole group of them burst in laughters as Snyder rolls his eyes. 

"Speaking of lass, I heard there was a bird joining the ranks with us? ’S up with that?" 

Aella immediately stiffens as she hears the dreaded words. Ones that make it crystal clear she’s gonna be the odd one out right from the start. Not to be mistaken, Aella takes great pride in being one of the very few female fighter pilots of the US Navy but all the self-confidence in the world couldn’t amount to the loneliness she always feels on base. Amongst the ‘mates’, she’s never more than a co-pilot, watching from afar her colleagues’ relationships blossoming from mere work affiliations to ones of brotherhood. 

Finally making her way to the last seat available in the audience, Aella feels the energies in the room drastically shift. Voices are no longer clashing in rowdiness; instead, the air is charged by the intensity of the quiet stares following Aella’s silhouette. However, the silence is interrupted by the sound of a flirtatious whistle that does no wonder for her already-tested nerves. God does she hate men sometimes. 

"Well, well, well…look at that guys. I think the eagle has landed its cute ass down."

Aella is about to pop a knuckle from how hard she’s clenching her fists. How foolishly naive she was to believe that things would be different. That joining Top Gun with the "best of the best" would give her solace from the incessant chauvinistic behaviors she’d been so used to. If anything, the prestige of their accomplishments has exacerbated the arrogant disposition of their ego-inflated character. 

Aella knows better than to respond though. No matter how quick-witted the comeback, it never works in her favor. So once again, she just takes a deeper breath and settles in her seat facing forwards. She is saved from hearing more about her eagle ass by two impressive figures marching in the room towards the front. Postures straighten, smirks vanish and a de facto silence ensues at the officers’ arrival. Respect is almost tangible in the air, and it has little to nothing to do with the plethora of decorations adorning their white uniforms, and everything to do with the aura of invincibility transpiring in their intimidating gaze. 

"Gentlemen," one of them starts before tilting his head towards Aella and adding a soft "ladies." He then proceeds with a quick scan of the room. Years of experience standing on that very same stage have forged the unyielding yet somewhat benevolent eyes landed on the students’ expecting faces. 

"You were probably told that you were here because you are the best of the best. Well, let me set things straight: you’re not. Not yet anyway. You might be lieutenants out there, but on these grounds, you are nothing but students. My job, is to make you unbeatable up there. Your job, is to trust me in doing so. That means no challenging orders and no cocky attitude or any funny business. If you respect that, you might have your name on one of these plaques in 5 weeks. Until then, work your hardest. My name is Aaron Berks and I am your Commander. Everyone, welcome to Top Gun."

Commander Berks offers a light smile to his audience, and Aella has a feeling it’s not a sight she will be privy to very often. She likes him though. He seems intransigeant but wise, proud but not arrogant and no matter how cold his exterior, he has the warmth of a master who looks after his apprentice. A caring facet that resembles that of fatherhood, and Aella knows she’ll be able to trust Berks just like he asked in his introduction speech.

After a brief silence, the class’ attention is once again captured by one of the officer. Taller and bulkier, this one is definitely missing that fatherly vibe Aella is so found of. "Gentlemen, I am Lieutenant Commander Wayne Rogers, I will teach you the art of naval strategy in flight combat alongside Commander Berks. You will also have the pleasure to have me whip your asses in physical testing. As you know, Top Gun is structured around 3 ranges of expertise, naming: naval strategy both in theory and practice, advanced astrophysics knowledge and physical training. Needless to say, you will be tested in more ways than one. And just a heads-up, I don’t do no favor to anyone."  

Aella cringes for a second as she wonders if there is any implicit lines to read behind Lieutenant Rogers’ clipped tone. She already dreads the time she will have to spend under his teaching. 

She doesn’t have the time to dwell on it though, before Rogers resumes his speech. "Anyway, enough with the pretty words, let’s go over the program. As you know, the 16th of you will form 8 crews who will be confronting us instructors to master advanced dogfighting tactics. Each of the 25 missions you will be assigned during the program will earn you points. Your aptitudes in physical training will also earn you point, as well as your results in astrophysics evaluations. I’m sure you can guess who wins the Top Gun trophy at the end of the program. Bear in mind, that all instructors have the right to deduct points from your score should they deem your actions or behavior disrespectful, underserving or quite simply unacceptable. On that note, welcome to Top Gun, class dismissed."

As soon as Lieutenant Rogers voices the discharging words, the room is once again caught in a rambunctious nebula of clacks and clatters. Everyone is making their way out when the commander’s voice transcends the ongoing commotion; steady and resonant. 

"Officers Styles and Lonethorne." 

Aella’s brows immediately wrinkle as she recognizes her last name. Turning around, she sees Commander Berks intently looking at her as if beckoning her over. Obediently she thus makes her way up to the front of the room where Berks hasn’t moved an inch since the beginning of the induction. Soon she realizes she’s being followed by a tall lanky man. His face, objectively handsome, doesn’t seem to show anything but Aella doesn’t have much time to further study his features as she finally reaches her commander. 

"I wanted to welcome you both personally given the circumstances. Styles, you have my support and condolences. Lieutenant Evans was a very fine man and gifted flyer." Aella is a bit thrown off by the declaration. It takes her an extra second to figure out the reason of her presence for this discussion. Once she does, her attention is immediately drawn to the silent man standing next to her, his face still not displaying any feelings like his skin was made of cold marble. 

"Harry, this is Aella Lonethorne. Her former chief has nothing but praises to say about her flying skills. She will be your partner for the next 5 weeks." A nod and the brief connection of his emeralds to Aella’s sapphires seems to be all the assertion elicited from Harry. No handshake, no hello, not even the pucker of a brow. Commander Berks might as well have announced the refectory’s lunch menu, the lad’s reaction would have been the same. 

"Miss Lonethorne, it’s a pleasure to have you on base, I have no doubts you two will achieve great things together." It is such a relief for Aella to realize her first impression of Berks was spot on. He is the kind of manager that leads with strength in his fists but encouraging lyrics on the edge of his lips. There is no hint of condescension fueled by the power high of his status coloring the tone of his voice. It’s something Aella has seen a few times. Pleasant comrades turned into aloof leaders full of bitterness from their years of submission and laden by the hierarchy’s expectations. Commander Berks never yielded to that pressure though, it was clear in his wholesome nature.  

"Thank you Commander, it’s a real honor." Aella responds in genuineness.

"Alright, I’ll leave you to it. See you both on the tarmac" he exclaims with a smile before making his way out. Berks departure leaves enough room for tension to settle between the newfound partners like a third interlocutor taking the warmed place of their superior. Similar in presence, though not as loud. 

Harry is still keeping mum, unfocused eyes staring somewhere far off on the floor while his mind appeared to be wandering the secret passages of never-never land. It freaks the hell out of Aella though she doesn’t show it. They are a team now though. They’re supposed to trust, rely on each other and have the other’s back no matter what. Yet, she doesn’t even know the sound of his voice and it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna give her the time of day anytime soon. 

Aella is about to speak up when Harry suddenly shakes his head out of its hypnotic trance. For a second she thinks he’s gonna initiate conversation himself but instead he just tilts his head in her general direction and rasps a weak ‘see you’ before storming off the room. Aella is left in total disarray, she doesn’t comprehend why he’s acting like a 3 year-old running off because he’s scared to say hi to the new lady. Is it because she’s not what he expected in a partner? God she hopes not. He doesn’t strike her as a misogynistic prick, didn’t really show any sign of disgust or clear animosity. But then again he is impossible to read.

As she mounts her precious Triumph, Aella feels the dread resurfacing. It is such a big contrast to how she felt when she left this morning. All the thrill and elation that had bubbled in the pits of her stomach just evaporated into disillusion, leaving of fog of uncertainty in Aella’s frenzied mind. This was supposed to be a drama-free experience; a chance to be recognized and treated with respect. Instead she got barely acknowledged.

The music coming out of Godspeed’s is so resoundingly loud Aella can feel the bass line thumping through her whole body. Standing across the street from the entrance, she’s still hesitating joining in the merrymaking even though she can hear the spirits calling out her name. Despite the crispiness of the air, a few rowdy souls are camping out front, obviously warmed over by the substance in their glass and the toxic stick between their lips. 

The dodgy pub never lacks in visitors no matter how threadbare the furniture, tacky the decoration and questionable the sanitation prove to be. Truth be told, the popularity of the place can be explain by one and sole reason: it is, lo and behold, the only bar on base. A fact that implies 99% of its customer base works in the US Navy, and thus explains why one could usually count on one hand the number of people dressed in day-to-day clothes.

Bracing herself, Aella finally makes her way inside the bar. The smell of booze and fries immediately invades her nostrils but she pays it no mind. Instead she takes in her surroundings from the swaying of hips on the torrid dance floor to tokens passionately thrown at a table with a following pair of aces. The sound of glasses clinking blends with that of drunken laughters and even drunker squawks. It’s nothing but good times and pent-up stress release, and for a moment Aella is really glad she decided to show up. 

She was told Induction’s Rave was not to be skipped.

Unfortunately, as she heads for the bar, Aella’s eyes fall upon a few familiar yet loathsome faces. It appears the infamous Rex and his phony clique didn’t want to miss out on the festivities either. Much to Aella’s dismay, they are all huddled around the counter monopolizing the bartender’s attention and just like that, she knows a relaxing night is not in her cards for tonight. There is no way she can walk out of this with both a drink in her hand and her composure intact. It would be too easy.

Strategically, she waits till the barman is done with them before voicing her request as inconspicuously as she can. "May I have a Vodka Martini, please?" she asks just as the bartender lifts his eyes from the counter he was wiping. She originally went for a pint but somehow she had an inkling it wouldn’t quite suffice. The guy nods and leaves to mix her precious elixir and just as she thinks she might make it through unscathed, the obnoxious voice she has come to strongly despise cuts through the pub’s damp air.  

"Gotta stop trying to play James Bond, darling. S’just not for you." Snickers. "Now, James Bond girl on the other hand, you definitely have the proper assets for that." Once again, every guy within Rex’s arm radius bursts into insipid laughter as the mockery tumbled out of his mouth. She doesn’t have to look his way to picture the disgusting smirk he must be sporting. The jerk. 

From the corner of her eye, Aella recognizes the lonesome lad sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a Bourbon with tinted cheeks and glossy irises. There is no doubt he’s in a slightly inebriated state but his participative chuckle still stings. Maybe even more so than Rex’s offensive words, for Harry is supposed to be her closest ally. She doesn’t expect him to jump to her defense, wouldn’t want him to anyway, but she’s profoundly disappointed he would find such humor in someone degrading her that way. The thought angers her so much, she doesn’t realize Harry is actually showing some kind of emotion at last. It’s not the one she wanted anyhow; not when it’s at her expense. 

She’s handed her drink before Rex speaks up again. "You think you can just sweep in and fight the bad guys with your pretty hair and 5 pounds muscles? I mean, come on darling, you’re not meant for the job. Just sit and look pretty like the others. Or fucking teach. You know what they say, right? Those who can’t, teach…”  She’d started to walk away at first but Rex’s lousy rant makes her halt in a sudden. “Anything but the fucking Navy, yeah? We have enough wannabes as it is."

Deep breath. Tight fist. Down the Vodka. Then she turns around and marches up to him, armed with daggers in her eyes and a punch away from feeling better. She doesn’t hit him though. Has more dignity and self-control than that. "You should really consider shutting your goddamn mouth before I show you just what I can or can’t do." Aella’s tone is cold; colder than the marble of Harry’s face earlier that day. 

As she expects, they don’t take her seriously and giggles erupt all around her. "Darling, I really wouldn’t mind," is what he replies with a suggestive lip bite and a smug that rivals her scowl in intensity. He’s dangerously toying with her last nerve and he knows it. Deliberately exploits it in the hopes of seeing her explode and then crumble into pieces. 

That’s how Aella knows she has the upper hand. She knows how guys like him work, what gets them going and their tactics to achieve that. But Rex has no clue what she’s like. He’s deluding himself into thinking he’s pushing her break-down button when in reality he’s in for something else. 

Nobody knows that yet, except maybe Harry. 

As a quiet and incredibly guarded individual, Harry proves to be a tremendous observer. It might come off as standoffish though he doesn’t mean to, but those who matter know and have accepted just how introverted his nature is. He knows he probably should have made an effort and better impression on his new copilot but the wound from his best friend’s loss is still too fresh to be bothered. They’ll get to talk soon enough anyway, is what he thought. Plus she didn’t really go out of her way to make an impression herself.

Now though, observing the sour interaction from afar, Harry’s starting to think differently. He shrugged Rex’s crude remarks, already used to the block’s insolence and admittedly amused at the childish antics. But as he becomes more attentive to Aella’s shifting stance, it is obvious to him that she’s not a person to ever take shit from anybody. 

His suspicions are proved right when Aella slowly closes the few steps between her and Rex until her eyes level with his. "Oh Rex. The thing with guys like you, is you feel empowered because power was handed to you on a fucking silver platter." All the while talking, she goes about removing his hold from his glass. "I could have pity for you, really. You think you’re good; you must even think you’re the best but you’re nothing more than a selfish privileged opportunistic prick who feels entitled to walk over anyone who won’t fucking bow down before you." Then she chucks the rest of his Whiskey in one swallow and places the empty glass back on top of the counter next to them.

"Oh yeah?" Rex smirks as he watches her face closely, casually leaning on the bar. It works in her favor as he fails to notice her hand creeping around his own. Then the next thing he knows is a tremendous throb shooting from the joint between his thumb and index, all the way through his arm and up to his neck. The pain is seizing and has him doubled up like it is suddenly to painful to even stand straight. Aella has never been more glad to learn a thing or two about pressure point.

"Yeah. And I might be smaller than you or less of a weightlifter than you are, but I can still bring you down whenever I want to. Don’t you forget that." He’s almost kneeling by now, arm twisted in a weird angle from where she’s still applying pressure on his hand. Rex’s acolytes seem to have lost their voice and giggles as they’re all taking in the sudden reversal of the situation. They have probably never seen Rex in such a submissive position, hence the dazed expression of stupor plastered on their faces.

Aella finally releases the whimpering man at her feet. She’s about to make her way out but she stops herself. "Oh and one more thing: you’re cocky, vile, and despicable, and one day, probably too late, you’ll realize your arrogance is what will fail you."

Satisfied with her last words, Aella looks up at the scene around her. Most people are still engrossed in what they were doing when she first came in, oblivious to the whole confrontation. Then just as she turns around, her eyes catch Harry’s broad frame, as though some magnetic field was coaxing them to his radiating force. She doesn’t delay her departure though. Her steps barely falter on the way out but her mind is left in whirlwind of thoughts. 

He was smiling. Shy and in the corner of his lips. But genuine and almost knowing, like he’d been rooting for her the whole time. And deep inside, for Harry to be on her side is everything Aella really hopes for.