#and earlier this week passed my permit test

[megasceptile001]

slowly recovering from my self doubt

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of PD: Season 5: PTSD (A Halstead brothers + Halstead! sister imagine)

As always, I don't own any quotes from 5x01 of Chicago PD!

Your age: 16

Jay's age: 30

Will's age: 32

"I just talked to Ballistics. The bullet that hit the little girl was a nine-millimeter."

"I thought the bangers were firing 45s."

"They were."

"You're saying I shot that little girl?"

That. That was the conversation that was replaying in Jay's head as he sat on the couch of his apartment that afternoon. How could he call himself a cop, a good cop, if it was him who shot that girl? He should've known that there an illegal daycare center there, even though no one could've known, he still should've figured it out somehow. But, he was taking heavy fire and he did what he needed to do. But, that didn't make him feel any better. A little girl was in critical condition and fighting for her life at Chicago Med because of him. It was all his fault.

***

Your mind wandered back to the day earlier in the year when it was your sixteenth birthday...and you had gotten the iPhone that was currently blowing up with Twitter notifications all about Jay.

You had gone for breakfast with your dad because he had completed the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and was doing a lot better. He also had visitation rights after he completed the 12 Steps, so he had the right to see you. Since you were 16, you could refuse, but you didn't want your dad to feel bad. And, from what you had heard from Will who had been going to see how he was doing to see if it was safe for you to see him, he was doing really well.

During breakfast, he had given you a gift. You opened it and immediately recognized the bracelet.

"Is this Mom's?" you asked. "I thought you said you couldn't find it when I asked for it when I was like ten."

"I've kept it all these years, I was just waiting for the right time to make sure you'd be able to take care of it and not lose it."

You remembered playing with the charm bracelet when you were little when it dangled off your mom's wrist. There were a bunch of different charms from places she had gone, such as Mount Rushmore, Washington DC, a record charm that she had bought in Hollywood, and for other special occasions, such as a steering wheel charm she got from her parents when she got her driver's license, a graduation cap she got for graduation which she also got from her parents, a wedding dress charm which symbolized the day she married your dad, among other charms.

"Thank you," you replied as you held back tears.

He'd changed, he'd recovered, but there's still no way you'd go back to live with him.

***

"How was breakfast with Dad?" Jay asked as you walked into the apartment after you had breakfast.

"Good. He's doing really good, Jay." You walked up to him and opened the small gift box you were holding. "He gave me this." You held the box out to him and he smiled.

"Mom's charm bracelet?" You nodded. "Want me to put it on you?"

"Please."

Jay's breath hitched as he took the bracelet out of the box. It was like he was holding a little piece of his mom, and this piece of your mom would forever be with you the moment he fastened the clasp.

"It's perfect," you said as you fiddled with a few charms.

You both sat in silence for a few moments, just thinking about the fact that this was your mom's and it was now yours.

"Ready to go get your license?" Jay asked, breaking the silence.

"Is that even a question? Yes!"

You had taken your driver's test a week ago after completing the long process of going through two segments of driver's training classes, taking a written test, securing your learner's permit, and accumulating 50 or more hours of driving practice with either Jay or Will.

Jay chuckled at your excitement. "You good with how you look? You'll have the same license photo until you're 21, you know?"

"Let me go put on some lipstick!"

"Not that super dark reddish-purple one!"

"Yes, that super dark reddish-purple one! It's my favorite and it looks good on me!" you yelled as you ran to your room.

Once you had applied your lipstick, you and Jay made your way to the Secretary of State with all the necessary documents for you to get your license.

***

"Why's my license vertical and not horizontal like yours?" you asked after you exited the building with your brand new license.

"You get a horizontal one when you're 21. Just makes it easier for us cops to identify if you're underage if we ask for your license. And for bartenders to know you're underage if you try to buy alcohol."

"Oh, okay."

"You wanna drive?" Jay asked you.

"Sure. It's no different than me having my permit, though because you'll be in the car," you pointed out.

"So, you don't want to drive."

"No, I do!"

"That's what I thought."

He handed you the keys and you unlocked his truck. You both got in and you started adjusting the seat and the rearview mirror.

"Don't forget to--"

"Adjust the side mirrors. I know, Jay, I know. We've been through this a ton. Trust me."

"You're essentially driving a missile down the road, excuse me if I get nervous."

You rolled your eyes and started to drive, but when you were supposed to turn right, he told you to go left.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"The district," he answered.

"Why?"

"You'll see. Just drive. I'll give you directions because we both know you're bad with those."

"Shut up!"

"What? We both know it's true!"

"No comment."

When you got there, Jay told you to park in front of what he called the "roll-up". To say you were confused would be an understatement; you didn't even know what this was!

"It's where we load our weapons and drive out sometimes. It's the basement," Jay explained.

"Where the cage is?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Adam told me about it. And then when you and  Erin were on  a lunch run for everyone, he showed it to me."

"I'm gonna have to talk to him about that."

Once you finished parking, you turned off the car and handed the keys back to Jay. Then, Jay did this weird, complicated knock on the garage door of the roll-up.

"Surprise!"

You were met with Will standing there. Behind him, was a car, with a bow on top.

"Is this mine?" you asked.

"Yup," Will confirmed. "Dude," he said to Jay, "You're lucky Goodwin let me out early."

"2010 Buick," Jay said as you walked over to examine the car more. "Seized it from a mob boss two weeks ago. It was going to be impounded, but Kev's got a really good car guy, so I didn't have to pay a lot for it."

"Wait," you started, "So this is just from you, Jay?"

"My gift is in your driver's seat," Will said and then he tossed you the keys. Somehow you caught them...you weren't the best when it came to hand-eye coordination.

You unlocked it using the fob and opened the driver's side door. There, on the driver's seat, was a box. And, not just any box: an Apple box.

"Is this...?"

"Open it." Will smiled.

So you did and you squealed so loud that Jay covered his ears. "Damn, high-pitched screams...sometimes worse than the sound of gunshots."

"Sorry! I'm just so excited! I can't believe I got a car and iPhone! You guys are the best! I love you guys so much!"

"We figured it'd save me a ton of time in the morning not to have to drive you to school and, if I get called into a case early or stay at work late, then I wouldn't have to find someone to drop you off or pick you up. And, figured I could always track your phone if necessary," Jay answered.

"I knew there was a catch," you answered.

"Always is," Will joked.

"Are there traps still in the car?" you asked, causing Jay's eyes to go wide.

"How do you know about those?"

"I watch crime shows."

"No," he answered. "Made sure that was one of the very first things Kev's car guy did: remove the traps."

"Aw, man! I was gonna have fun with those!"

"And put what in them?" Will asked. "Candy? Those fancy pens you like?"

"One, there's two different kinds I like: Papermate pens and calligraphy pens. And two, a little bit of this, a little bit of that."

"Care to specific on what those might be?" Jay asked.

"Not really."

"May I remind you that I am a cop and can toss your bedroom like--" He snapped his fingers. "--that."

"Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"It's my house, so I can do what I want. And, I hope I don't need to bring charges against you for whatever you're hiding."

You burst out laughing. "You guys, I'm kidding. I just wanted to see Jay's reaction when I mentioned traps! I wouldn't do anything...especially with Jay as my brother. I'm not that stupid."

"Oh thank God," Jay sighed.

"Can we go? A little birdie let it slip that there's a surprise party for me at the apartment."

Will glared at Jay. "What?" Jay asked as he put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I promise you I did not say a single word about it."

"Mhm." Will rolled his eyes.

"Y/N, would this little birdie be Ruzek?" Jay asked.

"No comment."

"I am never telling him anything remotely secretive again."

But now, you kinda wished you didn't have that phone. Because, all over Twitter, there were people who didn't even know your brother who was saying that he was a racist cop and a child killer.

***

You walked inside to see a very distraught Jay. he was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. And, even though you could only see one side of his face from where you were standing, you could see the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

"So, it's true?" you asked. Jay jumped and looked at you. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"H-How do you know what happened?"

You sat down next to him. "Twitter. My mentions were blowing up."

"Y/N, you gotta believe me. I wouldn't intentionally shoot a little girl--"

"Jay, I believe you."

"At least she's at Med. Will said she's got a good chance of making it."

"Oh, you didn't hear." He furrowed his eyebrows. "She passed away. I got a notification about it like an hour ago. I'm so sorry, Jay."

"Fuck," was all he said as he buried his head in his hands and began sobbing.

You wanted to comfort him, you really did, but you had no idea what to say. You knew Jay was a good cop and, whatever happened, you knew that he wouldn't purposely kill an innocent little girl. So, you just put a hand on his shoulder as he continued to sob, reminding him that you were still there.

"I'm gonna go talk to Will," he said as he stood up a few minutes later.

He walked over to the kitchen sink and splashed his face with water and dried it with some paper towels while you walked over to him.

"I'll drive you," you told him. "You're not in any shape to be driving right now. I know you'd tell me the same thing."

"No, Y/N, I can drive myself."

"This isn't up for discussion, Jay."

"Yes, it is. My picture's all over the internet. If someone decides to come after me, I don't want you near me out in public. I need you to be safe. Just stay here. Please." His voice cracked on the last word.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"But please try your best to get home in one piece."

Jay nodded and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back soon."

But, what he was thinking was totally different. After what I did, I don't deserve to come home in one piece.

***

Jay stormed into the ED just as Will was leaving a treatment room and Will caught sight of Jay and walked towards him.

"You said she was gonna make it!" Jay practically yelled.

"Hey," Will said, quieter, trying to use his trying-to-calm-down-a-patient-voice to hopefully make Jay calm down.

"You said she was gonna..." Jay took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Hey, I said she had a chance, okay? She was in bad shape. Lost too much blood."

"I know."

"There's only so much we can do."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just...the bullet came from my gun. Even though I was aiming at an offender, it went through his abdomen and through a fucking door and into her, Will. Even though it was an accident, I still shot her. I killed an eight-year-old little girl. I killed her."

***

"50-21 George!" Jay yelled into his radio. "I'm taking heavy fire! I got two civilians down in the north alley behind the building."

"This is Sergeant Hank Voight. Advise responding units to shut down a two-block radius."

"Help! Help!"

Jay turned his attention to the building and when he saw it was clear, he pushed open the wooden door and entered.

He nearly choked when he saw what happened.

It was you. You were eight years old, clutching Beary in one hand while Hailey held you and tried to stop the bleeding.

"Y/N!" He had no idea why you were even here, maybe your parents couldn't afford a good, legal daycare center because of your mom's medical bills, but whatever it was, you were here, and you had somehow been shot. He kneeled down next to you and all but threw his sniper on the ground.

"Alright, I'm gonna call an ambulance," Hailey said.

"We don't have time." Somehow, he was aware of where his keys were in his tactical gear. "Go get my car. Fast."

He handed over the keys. "Ready?" Hailey asked as Jay positioned his hands above hers to try and stop the bleeding the minute she removed her hands.

Jay nodded and quickly replaced Hailey's hands with his as she sprinted off to get his truck.

But, then the scene changed.

It became hotter. Jay could feel the dry heat in his mouth and in his throat. He felt the sweat trickle down his face and back. He felt beads of sand on his hands and arms. He looked down to see you resting your head against his leg. And, he wasn't in his normal clothes that he'd wear to work. No, he was in his Rangers uniform.

He had his hands over the same spot on your chest as he had in the daycare center. And, you still had Beary in your hand, albeit a very loose grip on him.

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

"No, Y/N, not like this. Not like this." He removed one hand from the wound and applied all the pressure he could with one hand while he reached for his radio. "This is Halstead to Base." Crackles. "This is Halstead to Base." More crackles. "Please. This is Halstead to Base. I need a med truck now! My sister's been shot." No response. "Please. She's only-- She's only eight years old." His voice cracked. "Please."

You coughed once more and Jay knew trying to reach Base was useless at this point. Jay took his canteen and dabbed a little bit of water on your face and smeared it around, trying to clean the blood off your face. But, as fast as he could clean it, more would come up and out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

Jay shot up in bed with a start. He reached for his chest, feeling for his radio to try and call for help again. It was only when his fingers brushed his bare chest that he realized that he wasn't in the desert of Afghanistan, but in the safety of his own bed, in his own apartment, here stateside, here in Chicago.

He went into the bathroom after his breathing calmed down and jumped into a freezing cold shower, hoping to get the image of an eight-year-old you being shot and killed by his gun out of his head.

But it wouldn't leave.

Jay dried off and then quietly made his way out of his room and over to yours.

He crouched down by your bed and watched as your chest rose and fell, signaling that you were in a deep sleep. You were sleeping on your side and had one leg thrown over the other and a few toes sticking out from under the covers. Beary was next to you. You weren't clutching him like in his nightmare, hell you weren't even holding him, but he was still in your bed. Jay was pretty sure that if that bear wasn't in your bed at night, you wouldn't be able to sleep, despite you being sixteen.

Jay longed to put two fingers to your neck just to check your pulse and make sure he wasn't hallucinating the rising and falling of your chest. But, he knew that was paranoid. He could trust his instincts now. After all, he was awake. There was no stifling heat, no hot sweat (at least, after his shower there wasn't), and no sand. All that was below him was the fluffy rug on your bedroom floor.

He slowly left your room and went back to his. But, instead of getting into bed, he tugged his comforter off his bed and grabbed his pillow. Then, he dragged those two things back into your room and settled down on your rug.

He knew it was probably paranoia, but after that dream, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He wanted to be close to you. Because, God, that dream felt so real.

She's alive, he kept reminding himself as he tried to fall asleep. And, that was the last thing on his mind when he finally fell asleep once more: that you were still alive.

***

Your alarm blared through your quiet room and you rolled over with a groan and turned it off.

"Christ, that was loud. How deep of a sleeper are you?" Jay asked as he rolled over.

You looked at him with sleep still in your eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

"Was a rough night." He yawned. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Okay...?"

"I say ten more minutes."

"Jay, I'll be late."

"I'll drive you, lights and sirens and all."

"Night."

***

"You okay?" you asked around 11:00 pm two weeks later when Jay finally got home from working a case.

"Yeah, just tired," he answered as he went to put his badge and gun away in his room.

"Are you sure it's just that?" you asked when he came out from his room in pajamas.

"I'm sure. Why are you asking?"

"You had that street fair bombing case and two weeks ago, a bullet from your gun--"

"Y/N, I'm fine. I promise. don't you have to get to bed?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday. I don't have school tomorrow."

"So it is. I'm gonna turn in. See you in the morning."

"Aren't you gonna eat something?" you asked.

"I'm not really that hungry. Goodnight."

You knew something was off, but you weren't going to push it, so you just grabbed the remote and started looking for a movie to watch.

***

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

"No, Y/N, not like this. Not like this." He removed one hand from the wound and applied all the pressure he could with one hand while he reached for his radio. "This is Halstead to Base." Crackles. "This is Halstead to Base." More crackles. "Please. This is Halstead to Base. I need a med truck now! My sister's been shot." No response. "Please. She's only-- She's only eight years old." His voice cracked. "Please."

You coughed once more and Jay knew trying to reach Base was useless at this point. Jay took his canteen and dabbed a little bit of water on your face and smeared it around, trying to clean the blood off your face. But, as fast as he could clean it, more would come up and out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

He saw a figure moving towards him and in his hand, a grenade.

"Would you like to join her?"

Jay jolted awake, breathing raggedly. He tried to catch his breath and swallow, but it was no use, the familiar feeling of bile was rising in his throat and he dry heaved all the way to the bathroom before he finally emptied what little was in his stomach into the toilet.

Meanwhile, you furrowed your eyebrows as you slowly opened your eyes. You thought you had heard gagging, but it was gone now, so you tried to close your eyes and go back to sleep. But, then you heard gagging and the sound of something hitting what sounded like water.

Wait, was Jay sick? He never got sick.

You got out of bed and walked over to his room and quietly opened his door. From the dim light of the bathroom, and the disheveled covers on his bed, you knew he was in the bathroom.

"Jay?" you asked as you crept towards his bathroom.

"Y/N, l-leave. Please, just leave me alone ri-right now." You could tell from the sound of his voice that he was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

"Are you okay?"

No. "I'm fine. Just a stomach bug or food poisoning. Go back to bed."

You poked your head into the bathroom. Jay was leaning against the bathtub without a shirt on, with sweat dripping down his face. His mouth was wide open as if he was trying to capture as much oxygen as was humanly possible.

"Maybe I should call Will. I don't think he's on shift."

"Y/N, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You don't look fine at all."

"Y/N, go back to bed. Now."

"But--"

"I said go to bed! So how about you listen for once and just fucking do that? Jesus!"

Your breath caught in your throat. You'd never heard him yell like that...not directed at you at least.

"O-Okay."

You trudged back to your room and laid down. But, sleep didn't come for a while as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Jay put his head in his hands. He had yelled at you. Not only that, but he had sworn at you and you were just trying to help. God, he felt like a terrible brother, a terrible guardian, an overall terrible human being.

He tugged at the roots of his hair, hoping the bit of tugging from that physical pain would calm the mental and emotional pain that had been stirring inside of him for weeks. For weeks he's been like this. Ever since he had been put on his medication, he hadn't even had a nightmare and now he's had them every single day, and he's scared to sleep. What kind of police detective and ex-army ranger is afraid to sleep when they're safe in their own house? He was one of them and, God, he hated himself for it.

Not getting more than three restless hours of sleep per night was starting to have an impact on him at work. They all knew that a sleepy cop was a dead cop, but Jay was still alive. But, there were downfalls, such as getting jittery from all the caffeine he was ingesting early in the morning and then crashing and almost falling asleep doing reports when he had to work late. Well, he didn't have to work late per se, he decided to work late to put off sleeping. He knew none of this was helpful and none of this would solve the problem, but he thought it would be fine. Everything would be fine and the nightmares would eventually go away. They always do. And then everything would be normal again in his brain.

God, he longed for that: the normalcy.

So, for the umpteenth night in a row, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and made his way to your bedroom to sleep on the floor to make sure you were alive. He put his watch on vibrate and set the alarm for 6 am because he knew you wouldn't be awake that early...especially not on the weekend.

Only when the irrational part of his brain was sure that you weren't going to die, did he finally find solace in sleep.

***

Went to get coffee with Will and to work on homework. Be home eventually, you scribbled on a sticky note and stuck it on the back of the apartment door before you left. Jay had gotten called in to work a case earlier this morning, and you needed a change of scenery to work on some AP World History homework.

You grabbed your backpack, keys, and wallet, and made your way to the parking garage. Then, you left.

About ten minutes later, you arrived at the coffee shop. Not seeing Will, you set your stuff down and went to grab a coffee and a muffin. Don't get it wrong, Jay still didn't like the fact that you drank coffee, but you only drank it when you went out to get it. It wasn't like you drank it every morning or drank two or three cups a day like he did.

You started to read your textbook and take some notes on the vocab. You were so focused that you jumped when Will slid into the chair across from you and said your name.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Lots to do?"

"Not a ton," you replied. "Just gotta read a chapter and take some notes. Then I'm done with homework for the weekend."

"So, you said you think something's up with Jay?" Will asked.

You had texted him that morning to see if you could meet up because you were worried. You had seen how tired he looked and how he poured his coffee into a larger tumbler than normal, one that was almost double the size of his normal one. Bags under his eyes and more coffee than normal had given you the impression that Jay was no longer sleeping, and rightfully so.

"I don't think he's sleeping," you told him.

"And you know this how?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because he looks like shit- sorry, he looks like crap, and he drinks a ton more coffee in the morning than he normally does."

"Maybe he just doesn't like the coffee at the district and is bringing more from home," he suggested.

"I don't think so."

"Is he still working out? Still going to the gym?"

"I think so. I'm usually still asleep when he goes, so I wouldn't know either way."

"Anything else?"

"Uh, actually, yeah." You closed your textbook. "I'm pretty sure he was sick last night."

"Sick? Like how sick?"

"He was puking. I wanted to call you but he told me no."

"How'd you find him?"

"Leaning against the bathtub, no shirt, dripping sweat, and mouth wide open."

"I see," Will said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Last night when I mentioned calling you, he said he was fine. But, when I pushed, he told me to leave and when I told him no, he yelled and cursed at me."

"He swore at you?" Will grit his teeth.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I don't know what's going on, Will. He hasn't been himself lately."

"Hey, I'll figure it out, okay? I'll make sure he's okay. I can even come over later tonight and check him out if you want me to."

"He'll fight you on that."

"I'm used to unruly patients. Is that what you--" His phone rang and he held up a finger to you to wait for a second while he answered. "Hey, Maggie. What's up?" He paused and then sighed. "I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and started gathering his stuff.

"What? Did something happen and you have to go to work?" you asked.

"Oh, something happened all right. I just got a call saying Jay was brought into Med."

You started to pack up your backpack and grabbed your keys. "I'll follow you there."

***

Jay didn't know what happened. One second he was driving, blinking heavily, the next Hailey was yelling at him and had reached over to grab the wheel, but it was too late. He was too close. When he opened his eyes, he tried to slam on the brake, but it didn't help. The next millisecond, he and Hailey crashed into an electrical pole in Pilsen.

He was awake after that.

"What the hell happened?" Voight asked after he had thrown his car in park and he and Al rushed over to Jay and Hailey.

"I think he fell asleep at the wheel," Hailey answered as she and Jay both stepped out of the truck.

"I did not," Jay protested.

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain you just running into an electrical pole when there weren't even cars running us off the road?" Hailey yelled.

"I didn't fall asleep! I'm fully awake! Just drop it, Upton."

"Drop it? You do know if we would've hit that at full speed and it fell on us that we could've been electrocuted to death, right?"

"But that didn't happen--"

"Halstead, Upton, I'm bringing both of you to Med to get checked out. After that, you're going home to get some rest, Halstead. You look like hell," Voight told them.

"Sarge--"

"This isn't up for discussion. Get in the damn car." The two detectives walked to Voight's car, while Voight turned to Alvin. "Call Platt to get us some patrolmen to help. You good waiting here for them to pick you up while I bring them to Med?"

"Yeah, go. I'll handle this."

When Jay finally got to Med, to say he was not happy would be an understatement. He didn't need to be in the hospital and he sure as hell didn't need to be kicked off the case and told to go home to get some rest.

"Mags, what room is he in?"

Shit, they had called Will.

"Treatment Four."

Will walked into the room followed by you.

"You didn't have to come, neither of you did."

"Well, too bad," Will said. "Should've put her as your emergency contact instead of me. Oh wait, you can't, she's still too young. Guess you're stuck with me."

"All set," Hailey said as she walked in. "You ready to go?"

"Who's this?" you asked.

"My new partner," Jay told you. "Hailey, this is Y/N and Will, my siblings I told you about. Y/N and Will, my new partner, Hailey Upton."

"Nice to meet you. I've heard good things."

Will scoffed. "Would one of those good things be that Jay absolutely hates hospitals and I always have to make sure he doesn't leave against medical advice?"

"He didn't mention that, no."

"Well, either way, nice to meet Jay's new partner. Do you mind if I talk to him? Privately?"

"No problem."

Will turned to you. "You too, Y/N. Go grab some food or hang out with Hailey or something."

Will focused his attention on Jay when you and Hailey had left the treatment room. "Y/N told me she doesn't think you're sleeping and from what I heard from Maggie about why you were brought in here, don't even bother lying to me."

"I'm fine, Will, really. Nothing to worry about."

"Fine then. I'm gonna go order a blood test."

"Blood test? You're not even on shift! And, you can't even be my doctor if you were!" Jay protested.

"I read that April's your nurse, so I'm going to go find her and tell her to order a blood test then."

"Why?"

"To see if your plasma cortisol levels are elevated and if your cortisol testosterone levels have decreased," Will answer matter-of-factly.

"And you need those because...?"

"If the plasma cortisol level is elevated and the cortisol testosterone level is lowered, then those are both indicators that you haven't been sleeping. Be back, little brother."

Jay groaned and threw his head back. He didn't think he'd need to be stuck with a needle today. If only had put someone else down as his emergency contact, then this wouldn't be happening. Or, if his brother just wasn't a doctor or didn't work at this specific hospital then this wouldn't be happening, either.

***

Jay was walking you to school when you were eight years old. On your back, you had your backpack and you were holding Jay's hand and skipping to keep up with his long strides. Jay chuckled at how cute and innocent you were. He didn't want you to ever grow up.

"Jay Jay," you started, causing him to look down at you, "Did you get all the bad guys when you left?"

"Why do you ask?" He swallowed. He knew if you asked the right questions, he might not know how to answer them. And, his last tour was horrific, losing all the members of his unit except Mouse...the burning Humvee...the combatants still coming towards them...

"I don't know. I just wanted to know if there were any left?" you asked.

"There probably are."

"Do you have to go back there? Do you have to leave again to go fight the bad guys?"

Jay's breath hitched. He was honorably discharged after what had happened, so he wouldn't have to back. But, as he was thinking about how to answer you, the scene changed.

Screaming. All he could hear was screaming and the crackling of flames.

He looked around saw the scene from his last tour, his Humvee flipped over with all the members of his unit currently burning to crisp. He and Mouse had been walking behind, keeping watch of their six which is why they weren't in there.

"Help! Jay Jay, help!" He heard you scream and racked his brain from where that could be coming from because you were an ocean away, no way were you actually there.

"Dude, your sister's in there!" And Mouse took off running.

Jay quickly caught up to him. "What? She's not here! She's at home in Chicago!"

"No, she's not! You couldn't bear to leave her, so you brought her with you!"

Okay, now Jay knew he was caught in the midst of a nightmare because he would never do that. He would never bring a little girl into the midst of a war where she could get hurt or killed. Damn that melatonin he took that night because he was currently in so deep a sleep that he couldn't wake up.

"Jay Jay!"

He took off running again and came up to the edge of the Humvee. Your leg was crushed under it and it was one of the only parts of the vehicle that hadn't caught fire...yet. He needed to get you out and he needed to get you out fast or else you would be burned to death. But, to do that, he knew he'd be sacrificing your leg.

"Mouse! Get me a tourniquet and the biggest knife you have! Make sure you sterilize it!" Jay shouted. You let out a whine.

"You're doing a field amputation?" Mouse asked as he grabbed the supplies.

"I don't have any other choice." You let out a whimper. "Hey, hey, look at me. Focus on me. I'm gonna get you out of there."

"P-Promise?" you asked as tears ran down your cheeks.

"I promise. Now I need you to hold really still and be a brave girl, okay? Can you be brave for me?" You nodded as Mouse handed Jay the equipment for the tourniquet. "This is going to hurt," Jay warned you as he slid the piece of fabric underneath your leg and then started tying it.

You screamed out in agony.

"I know, I know. But, It's gotta be tight. It's gotta be tight, kiddo."

"Jay! Nine o'clock!"

Jay turned to his left and pointed his gun straight at the combatant.

"Jay...Jay..." he heard your voice wavering as you tried to get his attention. But, it didn't sound like your voice. It sounded lower, more mature even. "Jay, please." the voice that sounded like you was pleading now. "Jay Jay, please. You're- You're safe."

Jay snapped his eyes open.

There you were, at sixteen years old, holding your hands up in surrender. He was home, in Chicago.

"Jay, please," you whispered once more.

It was only when he looked down that he realized he must've thought you were the combatant in his dream because he had his service weapon pointed straight at you.

He dropped his gun onto his bed. "Y/N, I- you gotta believe me. That wasn't--"

But you were already running out of his room to grab your keys and get as far away from Jay as possible.

***

Will was awoken to a loud knocking on his door at 2:37 in the morning. "Who the fuck is here right now?" he muttered as he rubbed his eyes and stood up and threw on a shirt.

But, all his anger at being woken up at this ungodly hour washed away as he looked through the peep-hole and saw you, tears still streaming down your face.

He yanked the door open. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"He pointed a gun at me!" you wailed as you entered.

Will shut the door and made his way over to you. "Who? Did you tell Jay? Where were you?"

"Jay was the one who did it, Will! He pointed the- the gun right at me!"

Will's breath caught in his throat. He had his hunches that Jay was having nightmares again based on what you had told him and based on him falling asleep while driving and based on his blood work, but he didn't think they'd have gotten this bad. "Are you okay? he asked you quietly.

You shook your head and Will led you over to the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You sighed. "I heard him scream, so I woke up to see what was wrong. When I walked- When I walked into his room he was squeezing his pillow with his hand like he was holding something. He was dripping sweat."

You paused and took a deep breath.

"It's okay," Will told you. Take your time."

"Then, he just, he just whipped around and grabbed his gun from- from on top of his nightstand. I don't why it wasn't in the safe where it usually is. And that's when he..."

"That's when he pointed it at you?"

You nodded as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I said his name over and over and he finally snapped out of it."

"And that's when you came here?"

You nodded again.

"Well, how about we put on a movie, and then you can try to get some sleep. I'll stop over at Jay's tomorrow when you're at school. I'm pretty sure you have some clothes here just in case."

"Thanks, Will."

"No problem, Short Stack."

***

Jay heard a knock on his door the next day. Will had texted him and told him that you were safe and at his place because Jay had been blowing up Will's phone looking for you. So, at least he wasn't worried about that anymore.

Jay sipped his beer and waited for the knocking to stop, but it just became increasingly louder.

"Jay, open the damn door!"

Reluctantly, with beer still in hand, Jay stood up and opened his apartment door. "What the hell are you doing here?" Jay asked.

"Gimme that," Will said as he ripped the beer bottle from Jay's hand after he'd entered his apartment. "And, for your information, I'm making sure you're not drinking yourself to death." He looked around at the two other empty beer bottles on the counter. It wasn't even one o'clock in the afternoon yet. "Which, I guess I came just in time."

"Just let me drink it." Jay tried to take the bottle back, but Will held it out of his reach. Then, he made his way over to the kitchen sink and poured it out.

"Shit, man. I paid for that."

"I don't really give a damn right now, Jay. You pointed a fucking gun at our little sister. She came to my place bawling last night. You're lucky she didn't get into a car accident because of how distraught she was when she was driving."

"I know, I know. I fucked up, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, you fucked up all right. This is probably the single-handed worse thing you've done in your entire life."

"Did you just come here to lecture me?" Jay yelled. "If so, the door's that way and you can get the hell out!"

Will sighed. "I didn't come here just to do that, but I needed to get that out first. You need to talk to someone about this, Jay."

"I'm talking to you. Isn't that enough?"

"A trained professional."

"You are a trained professional."

"I'm a trained medical professional, not a trained psychological professional."

Jay sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. That scene from last night had been replaying in his head for almost twelve hours now.

Him hearing your voice...seeing you with your hands raised while they were shaking...how much of whisper your voice was...the feeling of guilt that swallowed him whole when he noticed he was holding his service weapon...you sprinting out of the house in the middle of the night...

"Jay," Will said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You still with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. Sorry." He paused. "Last night, I guess I was so out of it that I forgot to lock up my gun and left it on my bedside table. If I had just locked it up, this wouldn't have happened. If I just wouldn't have taken the melatonin, this wouldn't have happened. If I was just able to fucking sleep this wouldn't have happened."

"How long haven't you been sleeping?" Will asked gently.

"The nightmares started when I shot that little girl, Will."

"Jay, it's been weeks since that happened."

"I know. And they just keep getting worse. At first, it was Y/N who was the little girl I shot when I was chasing the offenders when the bullet went through the illegal daycare center. And then, they started turning into me being overseas and Y/N somehow being with me and her being shot over there. Last night- last night was the worst."

"You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to."

"Thank you," Jay replied. Because in all honestly, that was one of the worst nightmares he's ever had since getting on his medication.

"Is that why you're sleeping on Y/N's bedroom floor?"

"How'd you know? I didn't even think she knew."

"She knows. She said she'll wake up in the middle of the night and you'll be there, on her floor, with a pillow and a blanket, and you'll sneak out before she wakes up."

"I just, I needed to make sure she was safe. I needed to make sure she was still alive, Will."

"I really think you need to talk to someone. Maybe ask about getting your meds increased."

"I've been on the same dose for over two years now. You really think they'd need to be upped?"

"It's a possibility. But, we need to talk about Y/N now."

Jay sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, we do. I have no idea what to do, Will. I'm supposed to be her legal guardian and I couldn't even keep her safe. I was the one who made her feel not safe."

"I know it's gonna be hard for you to hear this," Will started, "but, she doesn't want to come back here for a little while."

"Yeah, I figured that when she didn't answer my texts."

"Listen, she and I talked this morning, and if you go see someone today or tomorrow and see someone about getting your meds upped, she'd stay with me for two weeks so the meds have time to get into your system, and then we'll go from there."

"So, all I have to do is get my meds upped?"

"Well, that might be the best option. But, I still think you should talk to someone, Jay. Either a therapist or a psychiatrist or even a veteran's support group might be helpful."

"Okay. But, can you just tell her that I'm so sorry? And that, I wasn't in my right mind? I didn't know it was her, I swear."

"I know you didn't. Now, no more drinking, you have appointments to schedule." Will paused. "Have you talked to Voight? Maybe you shouldn't be working while you're trying to figure this out."

"I do not need to take time off."

"Yes, you do. Do you want our little sister to hate you or not?"

"Fine. I'll take two weeks furlough."

"That's all I ask. Please do not get shitfaced because I will babysit you if I have to."

"Then who's gonna stay with Y/N?"

"I'll figure something out."

***

"You're sure I'm good to go back?" you asked Will as you walked into yours and Jay's apartment building.

"Y/N, he hasn't had a nightmare in a week and a half. Everything's gonna be fine," Will answered.

"I know. I know I shouldn't be scared of my own brother, but, uh, what happened that night, it was..."

"Terrifying?" Will finished for you.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I'll be there the entire weekend in case anything happens."

"Thanks, Will."

***

Later that night, you laid in bed, trying to fall asleep. But, you couldn't. You just couldn't shake the feeling of walking into Jay's room to try and wake him from a nightmare and having a gun pointed right at you. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe tonight was the night that Jay would have a nightmare and end up sleepwalking into your bedroom with his gun drawn.

So, you were sitting up in bed, at 3:30 am, having just finished your last movie an hour and a half ago with your lamp on and the current book you were reading open.

You heard the sound of your door opening and looked up.

You held your breath.

Jay was in your room.

"Y/N, what are you still doing awake?" he asked, slowly moving closer to you so he didn't scare you.

You sighed in relief. He was conscious. He was awake.

"I can't sleep," you answered honestly.

"Is it because of me? That you can't sleep?" You looked down and that was all the confirmation Jay needed. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I've said it a lot these past few weeks, but I'm truly sorry. You have to understand that it wasn't me."

"I know. I just, you scared you me, Jay. I was scared I was going to die that night."

"Y/N, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened."

"And you haven't had any nightmares?"

"None in over ten days," he answered.

"Then why are you in my room? I know you come in here sometimes after you have nightmares."

"I came to make sure you were sleeping. Will mentioned you were nervous and I know you don't like to sleep when you're nervous."

"Oh." You paused. "Can you tell me what you were dreaming about? When you pointed the gun at me?"

"Y/N, I'd really prefer not to. I don't want to go back there."

"I get it," you said. "It's traumatic. Like how even though Dad isn't drinking anymore, I don't want to go back and live with him."

"Exactly."

You moved over. "You can come sit if you want." Jay sat down on the bed next to you and handed you Beary so that he didn't squash him. You closed your book. "Can you tell me a story?"

"Like a fairytale like when you were little and Mom would make me read those princess books to you?" Jay chuckled.

"No, maybe a you and Will story or a me and you story from I was little and don't remember much?"

Jay thought for a second until he found the perfect one filed away in his brain under Y/N stories. "Do you remember that time when you brought your first aid kit on your bike because you had just made it in girl scouts?"

"A little, but not really."

"Okay, I'll tell you that one then."

"Jay Jay!" little seven-year-old you exclaimed as you run up to Jay. "Ride bikes with me?"

"I think my bike has a flat tire, but I can get my skateboard. Is that okay with you?" Jay asked.

"Yeah! But Mommy said you gotta wear a helmet because she said we gotta protect our heads," you told him while putting your hands on your hips.

"That's right! How could I forget that? I'll be right back and then we can go, okay?"

"Okay!"

While Jay ran off to find his bike, you ran off to get your first aid kit that you had just made in girl scouts and Beary to put in the little basket on the front of your purple princess bike.

You waited for him and when he reappeared with his skateboard and helmet, he asked what you had.

"Beary and this I made in girl scouts yesterday," you told him. "It has bandaids and this white tape and white soft stuff and wipies."

You handed it to him to take a look. Inside, there were different sizes of bandaids, medical tape, gauze, and antiseptic wipes. "This is such a good first aid kit, kiddo!"

"Thank you!"

You got your bike out of the garage and clipped on your helmet. Jay pressed down on the horn attached to your handlebars before stepping onto his skateboard.

You two rode down the street and then Jay got to a ramp that some kids had made. There was one ramp, a gap, and then another ramp.

"Jay Jay!" you exclaimed. "Can you go on that?"

Jay had gone on homemade skateboard ramps like those hundreds of times. Hell, he'd even made one home and he and Will would do kickflips in the air when going on it when your guys' mom was home. She'd have a heart attack if she saw her sons doing that.

"I can even do a trick while I'm in the air," Jay told you.

"Really?" you asked, your eyes going wide.

"Really. Wanna see?"

"Yes please!"

Jay started a few yards back from the first ramp and started propelling himself forward, gaining speed. Then, your jaw dropped as he skated onto the first ramp and into the air.

"Whoa," you whispered to yourself as he did his kickflip in midair between the two ramps.

But, Jay had overestimated the distance between the two ramps, so when he landed, he landed on the road and not the ramp with way too much force, causing him to fall off his skateboard and land on the ground, scraping his hands across the road.

"Jay Jay!" you yelled as you quickly kicked down your kickstand and grabbed your first aid kit. "Are you okay?" you asked.

Jay stood up and grabbed his skateboard. "I'm fine. Just a little blood, nothing to worry about."

"You're bleeding? Where? I can fix it."

He held up his right hand where his palm was a little bloody. You started to open your first aid kit and Jay knew there was no point in arguing with you, so he just crouched down to your height.

You grabbed a bandaid and started to open it. "You gotta clean it out first, nurse," Jay told you.

"Oh. With the wipey-thingies?"

"Yes, with those."

You opened one of the antiseptic wipes--with Jay's help because those were really hard to open!--and wiped down his palm. Then, you put the bandaid on.

"All better!" you exclaimed as you put the trash back into your first aid kit. "Can we keep going?" you asked.

"We sure can!"

You ran back to your bike and put the first aid kit into the basket next to Beary and then you got on your bike and caught up to Jay. And then, you were off around the block again.

"We really thought you were going to be a doctor or a nurse after that," Jay said. "But, then you realized you hated both math and science." He looked down at you. "Oh, you're asleep."

He set your book on your nightstand and turned off the lamp. Then, he slowly crept out of your room and closed the door, and went back to his room to fall into a nightmare-less sleep.

Despite Will sleeping on the couch, things were back to normal in yours and Jay's apartment and neither of you could've been happier.

A/N: Hey guys, I wanted to get this posted before I'm away for the weekend and probably without internet. As always, thank you for reading, and please reblog/like and comment! I love hearing what you guys think, as it gives me tons of motivation to keep writing! If you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things 

[watermelonlipstick]

The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

This is a request for anon, who asked: 

i don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do one where the reader has tattoos that dean doesn’t know about and then he sees them when he has to stitch them up after a hunt? (maybe like season 1 or 2 dean) thank you!!!

And then wrote to me privately that they have a dragon tattoo on one shoulder.

It was a lot of fun to write; tons of opportunities to slip in some good classic rock references! I miss in the super early seasons when Sam and Dean seemed to rag on each other pretty much constantly. I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Title: The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2589 

Summary: Dean is surprised to discover the reader has tattoos.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence/mention of blood, swearing, fluff!!

           Sam moves to the middle of the front bench to shuck off his coat as Dean is getting out of the car, and gives it to you with a long arm over the leather. “Can you hand me that blue jacket?”

           You have to over-rotate to use your other hand to grab it, keeping your grip tight on your own shirt in the most bastardized version of a sling. Sam, of course, notices.

           “You think it’s broken or dislocated?”

           A hard chuckle blows out of your nose. “Really hope it’s just dislocated, I’ll tell you that.”

           He gives you a sympathetic smile as he throws on the blue jacket and zips it all the way up to his neck. It looks like he’s covering something up and naturally, he is, thin hoodie and t shirt underneath drenched with enough werewolf blood that it’s clinging to his chest almost pornographically. But his face is untouched and he has use of both his arms which is more than can be said for you or Werewolf Shiner Winchester, making him the only reasonable choice to send for gauze and ACE bandages at the closest pharmacy.

           Dean stops his grimace-covered stretching just outside the car and opens your door with an outstretched hand as Sam slides into the driver’s seat. “You coming?”

           Taking his hand with your good one, you let Dean close the door behind you without any of the normal grumbling about treating you like you’re made of porcelain, in an effort to keep your face neutral around the jolts of pain through your shoulder. Sam pulls out of the motel parking lot ultra-gently like it’s his first day with a learner’s permit the way he does when he knows Dean is watching. It makes you smile to yourself as exhaust dissipates across the cracked blacktop.

           Crossing the asphalt with tired strides Dean opens the motel door for you too, and you walk in before him. “Is that yours?” he asks, dropping his coat on the cheap couch and wincing through the removal of his flannel. In the light of the room you’re better able to see his black eye and realize it’s going to take weeks for that to go away, not relishing another inevitable conversation about makeup to sell a G-man cover story. It makes it so much easier for the families of victims to believe you’re legit when none of you look like you’ve been in a bar fight, but getting Dean to believe cover-up is in the name of the greater good is an uphill battle on the best of days.

           “Is what mine?”

           “The blood you’re covered in like nacho cheese. Dude, if that’s all over the car—”

           He deserves credit for trying not to smile as you try to look over your shoulder like a puppy chasing its tail, but he does guide you over to the mirror on the wall to see. He’s right, blood has seeped all down your coat, sticky and shiny like syrup. It’s far too wet to be from near 30 minutes ago when you got in the car. “Fuck, I really like this jacket.”

           “You have like 5 just like it taking up space in my trunk; you’ll live. Here, take that off, I’ll stitch you up.” Dean starts rifling through his bag for supplies, rolling some kinks out of his neck.

           “It doesn’t even hurt, I just need you to pop my shoulder back in so I can take a shower.”

           “I don’t give a shit what hurts, slugger. You’re going to pass out in the tub if you keep up the stuck pig act.”

           You roll your eyes and reluctantly try to slide your arms out of the jacket, wincing when you jostle the dislocated arm. Dean takes the sopping coat from you and tosses it into the kitchenette sink from where he stands, the concern coloring his face when you look back at him not reassuring you at all. He puts the floss-threaded needle he’d had in his hand between his teeth and starts pulling on your collar.

           “Shoulder first,” you insist, done wiggling and writhing out of clothes before your shoulder is where it belongs.

           Dean’s mouth tightens into a firm line but he backs up to give himself enough room to shove, an exasperated hand beckoning you. “Okay, you ready?” he says around the needle, looking like a farmer field medic with a piece of hay.

           “Yeah just let me—FUCK,” you grunt when he catches you off guard without any preamble, clutching at the shoulder for a moment until you could take a deep breath. You do a test rotation and are happy at the relative lack of pain, trying not to be frustrated that Dean didn’t warn you so you wouldn’t tense up.

           “Shirt off.” Dean’s tone is firm and precise, no room for discussion, as he gets out a lighter and watches intently to heat up the needle.

           “Wow, you sure know how to make someone feel special,” you hum, feeling much looser without the shooting pain from your shoulder. The buttons of the flannel come undone relatively easy, but the fabric makes a sickly wet thwack as you snap it down to rest around your elbows.

           From his spot at your side, you see Dean’s face contort in surprise and watch as he reflexively reaches out a thumb to rub the skin of your shoulder.

           “Ow, what the hell?” you flinch.

           “Has this always been here?” he asks, partly amazed but mostly incredulous as his eyes trace the inky lines of the dragons where they wind around your skin.

           “I wasn’t born with them if that’s what you mean.” You can tell he’s truly shocked because he doesn’t even react to the jab, just hovers a gentle fingertip over the tattoo. “Earth to Dean? I thought you were all scared about me bleeding out.”

           He gulps and clears his throat before covering with a smile that’s a combination of cheeky and shy. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just didn’t realize I was in the presence of The Tattooed Wonder.”

           “Hardly, I only have a few. Now start stitching before I change my mind and wait for Sam; his are way neater than yours anyway.”

           “Few? Where are the other ones? Girls on the back of your leg that hula when you walk?”

           “Nice try.”

           He bites his lip before shifting the strap of your tank top off and sponging the back of your shoulder with a wet towel. When he unceremoniously pours a slug of whiskey over the wound you feel it for the first time and hiss, adrenaline and distraction of the joint pain worn off.

           “Sorry,” he murmurs, already dragging floss tight on a stitch with his teeth and moving on to the next as quickly as he can, half-humming that old Queen song, “gonna get me on the track, got a dragon on my back.”

           You weren’t lying earlier when you’d said that Sam’s stitches were usually cleaner, but Dean is being very careful in a way he usually isn’t—Chicks dig scars, Sammy! Stopped the bleeding, didn’t it?—and you tip your head back to check his work. The extra time he’s taking is to match up the back of one of the dragons, ripped open by a werewolf claw and currently held together by the delicate pinch of Dean’s index and thumb.

           It’s tough, but you manage to grab the reins on a smirk. Dean doesn’t notice, too focused on trying to keep the damage to your tattoo at a minimum. The gesture and the concentration are impossibly sweet, even though you’d long accepted that ink injury was inevitable with your lifestyle.

           When he’s done, callused fingertips tugging the last knot in place, Dean grabs the whiskey again. “Hold still,” he breathes, close enough you can feel it dance across the skin of your neck, and you hope he can’t see the goosebumps trailing down your arms like ivy. “That should do it. You can grab the first shower, but it’s big enough that some gauze on top for a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

           “Thanks,” you answer, startled and annoyed at your own voice when it creaks a touch. The flannel feels gross and heavy with blood, so you pull your arms out entirely and reach to drop it in the wastebasket.

           “I can deal with that if you want,” he offers, ruffling the velvet-short hair at the back of his neck. “The coat too. Not the first time getting blood out of clothes.”

           “Oh, okay. Uh, thanks. That would be really nice.”

           Dean only meets your eyes for the most fleeting moment when he takes it before biting his lip again and nodding to himself. You get to your feet and gingerly slip the displaced straps back over your shoulder, feeling the shift in energy in the room and not knowing what to do with it. Settling for a jocular little punch to Dean’s bicep, you grin at him. “Thanks for putting me back together, doc.”

           Sam comes back a couple minutes after you’ve closed the bathroom door with a translucent plastic bag full of first aid supplies. “In the shower?”

           Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch and hands Sam the beer he’d already gotten out of the fridge in anticipation, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Yeah. They have everything?”

           His younger brother nods and accepts the bottle, taking a sip before laying out his haul on the coffee table and tossing the bag. “You okay?”

           He glances up with a quirked eyebrow. “Just tired, man.”

           Sam waits a silent beat, giving Dean a chance to spill whatever it is.

           “Did you, ah—did you know Y/N’s all inked up like a friggin’ sailor?”

           Sam chuckles and runs his tongue over his teeth. “A sailor? Y/N’s only got a few tattoos, dude.”

           “You knew?”

           “Of course I knew, some people like to learn things about their friends. That’s why you’re acting weird?”

           Dean scowls over the glass lip of his beer before taking a long pull. “Not acting weird, sue me for being surprised we’re working with the goddamn Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo.” His voice is low and surly like a kid on the edge of a tantrum even he knows isn’t worth it.

           “Y/N can do whatever they want, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you like the tattoos, you’re not their dad.” Sam’s barely keeping the giggle out of his voice, enjoying Dean’s frustration the way only a little brother could.

           “No, I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like them,” Dean stammers, the end of the statement fading off as a flush starts rising in his cheeks. He knows he’s said too much and Sam jumps on it.

           “Wait—you do like them, don’t you?” He crashes onto the couch, long limbs just enough in Dean’s space to be irritating. “I bet you loooooove knowing about those tattoos—I bet you’re dying to see them.”

           “Shut the fuck up,” Dean growls, kicking Sam in the thigh with a socked foot. Sam blocks him and starts laughing hard enough it makes him rattle all over like he’s on a rickety rollercoaster. When he finally catches his breath Dean is still pouting to whatever syndicated sitcom he’d thrown on. Over the tinny TV speakers they hear the shower turn off.

           “You know, if you’re feeling shy I could say something for you.” Sam’s grin is ten steps past cheeky, firmly planted in devilish, and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively over top of dimples perfectly sliced into his cheeks.

           Dean’s eyes widen like a cartoon and his voice is a gravelly hiss as he grabs a tight handful of Sam’s t-shirt, now crisp with dried blood. “Sam, I fucking swear to God—” but the threat is ineffectual, sheepish panic clear as anything on his face. The glint in Sam’s eye brightens and he twists out of his brother’s grip before he can react, crossing the room in a few huge steps so he’s nearly face to face with you when you open the bathroom door, Dean leaping off of the couch to chase him and slamming into Sam’s back when he stops short.

           “Whoa, Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, one hand on top of your fresh t-shirt to still your racing heartbeat, fistful of dirty laundry in the other.

           “Just need that second shower, didn’t mean to freak you out!” Sam smiles, warm and light and genuine. “Thanks! Gauze is on the table if you want it.” he says as he slips past you with a friendly and familiar kiss on the cheek, wink that you can’t see to Dean over your shoulder as he closes the bathroom door fast enough that the mirror next to the frame barely even steams.

           “Hey, could you—” you start.

           “Hey, do you—” Dean says at the exact same time. You both chuckle, and you can’t tell if you’re annoyed or not that the little charge in the room didn’t dissolve while the dried blood on you had rinsed down the shower drain. Dean holds up an open palm to indicate that you should go first.

           “Could you cover those stitches for me? The skin is kind of catching on my shirt.”

           “Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

           Shaking your hair loose and hanging the towel it was in on the back of a kitchenette chair, you sit on the edge of the bed to tug the collar of your t-shirt as far onto your shoulder as you can. Dean snatches some medical tape and a couple 4x4s from the table and sits down next to you, the heat coming off of him soothing the chill of the few remaining drops of water cooling on your skin. “I’m gonna need more slack than that,” he says, trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite covering the gooey softness around the edges that are making his voice more sultry than gruff. You try to pull harder on the collar but it’s already digging into your neck. The hand holding the gauze floats down to Dean’s lap while he rubs his jaw with the other. “Do you—could you just take it off?”

           You roll your eyes at him.

           “Or live with it, see if I care.” He holds your gaze, and that stubbornness you recognize.

           Reluctantly, you move your arm inside the shirt and slip it out from under the bottom hem, squirming in a way that covers your chest while exposing your shoulder. When he sweeps the shirt back you reflexively jolt away from him like you’ve been shocked. “Not being fresh, just don’t want to tape it in,” he murmurs.

           “I noticed you put the lines together really straight; thanks for that.”

           “Only took an extra second.” He rips another piece of tape off a roll with his teeth and is being so deliberate that now you’re sure he’s stalling for another few seconds to keep touching you but you don’t care; the feeling of his fingertips on your skin is tender and delicious.

           “If I knew you were going to be that careful, I would’ve been letting you do my stitches this whole time.”

           “Guess I’m just a regular damn seamstress,” he smiles, finally smoothing the last tape and only surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of his eye as you tuck your arm back into its sleeve. “So seriously, what’re the other tattoos?”

           “I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough,” you whisper as you stand up, committing to memory the way it makes Dean’s pupils flare as you ease under the scratchy motel sheets on the opposite bed.

-

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[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi! your writing is so amazing and I always come back to the Geto x reader works you did. I’d love to request a strong female reader whos a warrior that catches Geto’s eye. I know this is vague but I hope it can give you some ideas. Again thank you for your amazing writing its so entertaining 💗💗

The Commander: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Suguru knew what might happen if he began allowing females into the King's Guard.

He knew what circumstances he would be putting his men - and himself - in if he did this.

But his troops were so few... and the King himself even had the grand idea that it would be best if they had women in the Gaurd to boost morale in his regime.

He caved the day Satoru - with his glassy blue eyes and somber expression - told him that he had to fix public opinion in his favor - or else. Suguru knew this threat was hollow, but the fact that Satoru - his best friend since childhood - thought it was time, well... that was enough to persuade him.

As announcements went out around the country, Suguru didn't really expect anyone to show up for training. Training as a King's Guard was brutal, and the regiment would include fasting, staying awake for three nights in a row, and building rapport with the others in order to complete the final task - a trek up the highest peak in the middle of winter.

And at first, no one did. Suguru smirked to himself every day that passed, bringing forth no new women into the fold. Perhaps things could be kept as they were. Things could remain as they always had been, and no one would get hurt.

But on the third day of recruitment, you came swaggering in through the gates of the training grounds, pack loaded up on your back and eyes determined.

Everyone held their breath - that's something that Suguru remembered quite well - until you stated your name loudly for all to hear, and dumped your pack onto the ground with a thud.

"I'm y/n from the Whispering Hills," you stated, hands resting on your hips. "And I've come to join the King's Guard."

____________________________________________________________

Everyone knows better than to laugh at a child of the Whispering Hills. The people from that area of the country are famed for their ruthlessness, unwavering loyalty, and quick tempers. They also believe in the Old Gods, which were banned from being worshipped long ago by the king before Satoru's father.

But no one seems to care that you wake up at the crack of dawn, walk out into the field with your nightclothes still on, and kneel in the direction of the hills with your eyes closed and hands folded in prayer.

No one says a word when you stay behind to eat and the others go off to pay tribute to the New Gods with offerings of wheat, grains, and fruits.

No one, not even Suguru, bothers you when you slay an animal and burn it on a makeshift altar (animal sacrifices are also forbidden) because they know you will cut them to pieces without even blinking an eye. And you'd be fully justified in doing so.

Suguru watches you do all of this, his eyes assessing you carefully as you train with the other men without missing a beat, without being injured or tapping out.

And for some reason, the deepest fear he had begins to blossom in his chest like an unbidden guest taking residence in his space. He's watched you for a few weeks now, just being yourself - but has never spoken to you one-on-one. Why hasn't he just--

"Commander."

The voice belongs to you, and you stand above him, looking just as you did on the first day you arrived. Suguru's eyes dilate and he swallows hard past the lump in his throat.

"Yes, y/n?"

"I must request a short leave of absence to meet with my people at the foot of the hills. It is festival season."

"I cannot permit you to leave training for your festivals," Suguru looks back down at his papers, shrugging. "You made a commitment to remain here with us during your training. You must keep that promise or be kicked out of this year's recruits."

Suguru doesn't see the shift in your stance, but he can feel the air around him shift from respectful to hostile. When he looks up at your expression, though, you look perfectly fine.

"Understood."

_____________________________________________________________

But things were not fine.

"Sir! She's refusing to do anything, and we can't complete the trek up the mountain without her in our group."

Suguru's had enough of your non-compliance. Ever since he said "no" to you going back to your hometown, you'd been unmoved from your station in your tent. Festival season was long over, but you'd remained in your tent, alone, and unwilling to reemerge.

The flaps on the tent swing open as Suguru storms in, his hair and eyes wild with disdain.

"Get up," he mutters, and you rise from your bed, looking over at him with bleary eyes. "You made a commitment."

"You do not honor my gods," you begin, wiping your eyes. "I will not come out until the moon has completed its course."

"I said, get up." Against his better judgment, Suguru pulls you up out of your bed by your arm and drags you to your feet. You sneer at him and bark the command to let you go, but Suguru ignores you - again, a poor move on his part. Because then, without speaking, you launch into an attack.

Suguru's been studying you carefully, and he knows your go-to moves, dodging them with ease and skill. You can hardly catch him off guard as your fight spills out into the open, calling the attention of all of the guards-in-training around you.

Suguru's long hair flies in the wind as he ducks, avoids, swiftly blocks, all while you're on the offensive, face turning a deep shade of red as you try to land a single blow on his body. If you could just get him once... then you'd have a personal achievement and a justified temper.

"Your temper is unyielding," Suguru pants, face splitting into a wild grin. "But your body cannot last as long as mine."

"We'll see about that," you reply, hands and fists flying with precision. After a few more moments of this back-and-forth, Geto stops you with two well-timed punches; one to the stomach, and one to the chest. You stumble back to catch your breath, vision blurring, but his hands grip yours behind your back, twisting them painfully.

"Yield."

"I will not yield," you grit out, pain shooting up your arms.

"Yield and I will spare you the punishment that follows."

"I will not yield!" you scream, bucking against the brute strength of the man.

"Your pride will cost you, then."

_____________________________________________________________

Your pride cost you more than just discomfort.

As you lay at the foot of Suguru's bed, your mouth whispers silent curses upon the Commander.

"Hush," Suguru gripes from his perch at his desk. "Your cursing is much too loud for my ears. I must focus."

"I hope you're never able to focus again," you snap, hands tied behind you.

"Such a sweet thing to say to your commander, soldier."

"I hope you choke on it." Suguru looks up from his book, but not at you, contemplating taming that snarky mouth of yours. But he decides against it, returning to his scribing.

Why are his hands shaking so bad, though? Had it really been so long since he felt challenged in a fight? And not only challenged but terribly aroused?

Suguru tries to fight these feelings day in and day out, looking at you with some terrible form of lust in his mind circling around him and making him go insane.

What could he do?

What should he do?

When he sees you laying on the floor with a death glare, he wants to break out into laughter and tell you to lighten up, but he knows if he does, he'll be ruined as a commander in your eyes. He must be stern, tough, unyielding, unshaken. All the things he's always been.

"You take yourself too seriously," you whisper, and Suguru looks over at you again, his brow raised.

"And you don't?"

"This isn't about me," you mutter, looking over your shoulder at your tied hands. "This is about your appearance." She's not wrong. "You want to seem strong. I've been eyeing you, Commander. I know how you work."

"Then you know I'm not going to let you get away with anything because you're a woman."

"But you do have a soft spot for me." Suguru rolls his eyes, despite you being absolutely right. "That's why I thought you'd let me go home for a few days. I see the way you look at me. Have you seen the way I look at you?"

"Don't," Suguru bites out, trying his best to avoid looking you in the eye. "Don't do that."

"Have you thought about me in your bed, Commander?" Suguru's breath hitches and he wonders if you'd snuck into his mind at some point, watching him watching you. "Or should I call you Suguru?"

The alarm bells in his mind are ringing, but something in Suguru lurches anyway, wanting you to say his name like that again.

"Y/n, this is neither the time, nor the place, nor the man you want to test you womanly wiles on."

"Oh?" You produce both of your hands, now untied, for him to see. "Or is it the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect man who has me all alone in his tent for the evening?" Suguru stiffens as you walk around to where he's seated, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "You going to show me who the strongest is, Commander? Or are you going to sit there and let yourself be taken by a woman, again?"

The answer is clear by the third hour of the morning.

Your hips smack backward, and Suguru hisses, hand coming down on your asscheek again.

"Tell me who the strongest is," Suguru huffs above you, one hand holding both of your wrists on the bed.

"You are," you breathe, looking over your shoulder at his pleased expression, dark eyes drinking in your features with the lust you'd preyed on earlier. "You're the strongest."

"That's right," Suguru exhales, leaning over your back and whispering in your ear. "I'll always be the strongest between the two of us. Don't forget that, y/n."

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

As the Delta variant spreads across America, with all 50 states reporting an increase in COVID-19 cases, the Tennessee Department of Health succumbed to Republican state lawmakers to infect as many young people as possible. Tennessee announced it was halting all of its adolescent vaccine outreach even as the rate of coronavirus infections in the state has tripled in the past three weeks. Not just for COVID-19, mind you, but for polio, hepatitis, rubella and all vaccines.

[...]

In addition to stopping all COVID-19 vaccine events at schools, Tennessee will stop sending postcards and notices reminding teenagers to receive their second shot. The state’s top immunization leader, Dr. Michelle Fiscus, was fired after she sent a memo reiterating state policy that some teenagers can be vaccinated without parental consent. She received death threats and was sent a muzzle.

[...]

Tennessee was also one of the battleground states where conservative activists promoted the manufactured anti-sharia threat, which created the template being used now to promote anti-CRT measures across the country. For years, these right-wing forces tried to stop the expansion of a Murfreesboro mosque to test their goal of “proving” that Islam somehow isn’t a religion, and as such deny Muslims protections and freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution. In 2014, the Supreme Court declined to hear the right-wing activists’ case, thereby ending the fiasco. But that didn’t stop Tennessee from joining five other red states in passing copycat “anti-Islamic and anti-terrorism measures” written and promoted by the same hateful organizations.

In order to save the kids, Tennessee is usually at the forefront of extremist anti-abortion bills. Earlier this year, Republican lawmakers introduced one that would give fathers the legal right to stop a woman they’d impregnated from ending that pregnancy. Along with 19 other states, Tennessee is supporting South Carolina’s anti-abortion law that forbids doctors from performing abortions if they can detect a heartbeat in a fetus, which can happen before a women even knows that she’s pregnant. Buoyed by a 6-3 right-wing Supreme Court, more abortion restrictions have been enacted this year than any other year, with Republican state legislatures passing at least 90 restrictive laws in 2021 alone.

Of course, that pro-life sentiment doesn’t extend to gun control, despite the prevalence of mass shootings terrorizing our schools across the country. As of July 1, Tennessee is officially one of 19 states that allows permitless gun carry. What better way of saving children than allowing most adults to carry and conceal a handgun without so much as a permit? This was a top legislative agenda for Gov. Lee during a crippling pandemic and recession. In the past 10 years, Tennessee’s rate of gun deaths has increased 28 percent. The state’s rates of homicides, firearm deaths, drug overdose deaths, and infant mortality rates are higher than the national average, so naturally Lee and Tennessee Republicans signed a Medicaid block grant this year and have tried and failed to repeal Obamacare.

Who needs vaccines and health care when Tennesseans can shoot away coronavirus and heart disease with a Glock 9?

The road to stupid is currently being led by Tennessee Senator Marsha Blackburn, one of the shining intellectuals of the right wing. She keeps stunning us with gems, whether it’s her climate-change denialism, her belief that universal daycare is Soviet propaganda, her ongoing feud with Taylor Swift, her failed Twitter polls, or her vigorous and spirited defense of “Neanderthal thinking.” If only she cared about protecting her constituents as much as she did about defending the honor of our extinct ancestors, then maybe Tennessee would have more than 38 percent of its population vaccinated.

But Blackburn, who is vaccinated, is just another proud soldier in the Trumpian death cult, along with the likes of Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis. He responded to rising COVID cases in his state by selling “Don’t Fauci my Florida” gear. More than 99 percent of COVID-19 deaths in the U.S. last month were among unvaccinated people, but that didn’t stop the crowd at the recent CPAC conference in Dallas from cheering the news about low vaccination rates. A Newsmax host recently made a case for genocidal Social Darwinism when he said that vaccines are “against nature” and some diseases should wipe people out. He didn’t mention if his family and loved ones were to be included in that sacrifice.

[raysofcrosby]

37 and 45 for matty please!

37. “welcome to fatherhood” + 45. “you’re getting a vasectomy. that’s final.” w/ matty tkachuk

The one thing you and Matt both agreed on from the moment you got married and even before, was that you wanted to have at least, 4 kids. He grew up with a brother and sister while you grew up an only child, both of you wanted your future kids to experience life with a sibling by their side. 

And Matt especially had been eager to start a family from the moment the words “I do” left both of your mouths. He spent most of your reception whispering into your ear all of the things he had planned for the nigh, how he couldn’t wait to get you alone and just how excited he was for your honeymoon in Turks and Caicos— “I hope you don’t plan on leaving the room for the first two days...you know, adjust to the time difference and all.”

It was only an hour time difference between Turks and Caicos and your permanent summer residence in St. Louis, but Matt didn’t care— it didn’t matter, and the two of you definitely didn’t leave the room until your third day into your two-week honeymoon.

Which is why it was no surprise to anyone that you found out you were  pregnant a little over two months later when you were packing up to go to Calgary for the season. You were packing up some of the bathroom stuff when you came across a box of tests from your bachelorette party when it was decided the group of you would play “pregnancy test roulette” which thankfully— no one was actually pregnant.

But there was one left and instead of taking it with you or just leaving it behind, you decided to use it and see if maybe the back to back...to multiple back nights on your honeymoon and even then after, resulted in you being pregnant. Matt came into the bathroom, having stripped down to his gym shorts by the time he reached your bathroom only to see you holding the pee stick in hand.

“Is that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He only stood there shocked for a few seconds before he swept you up into his arms and kissed you, the excitement shining in his blue eyes as he put you down and smiled. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

Your pregnancy was actually...pretty idyllic when it came to first pregnancies. Your appointments all went perfect, you were in good health throughout and even though at most times you were sure that your moodiness would chase Matt away at any given moment, he never faltered. He was with you every step of the way whenever the Flames schedule permitted it.

He took pictures of the ultrasounds to send to family, if he was on the road he’d always send you a text asking for a bump date, and then get a little cheeky asking straight up for a size check on your chest because he ‘wanted to see how the boobs are looking.’ He was loving, attentive and you felt more than lucky to be able to have him with you throughout.

You were sitting in the friends and family box at a Flames game when your water broke all over the nice fancy carpet floor of the suite. Both your Mom and Matt’s were helping you out of the suite, your last words to Keith before leaving for the hospital being “tell him my water broke, but do not let him leave this game!” A wish that Keith abided by and that Matt, when in an intermission, sent you texts worrying about missing the birth. You assured him that you doubted that you’d be having a baby in the 20 minutes of third period hockey.

The Flames won, Matt skipped media and came rushing to the hospital to be by your side, making it right as you were getting your epidural. Your families were in the room with you, waiting to pass the time and trying to distract you from your contractions. By the time you were fully dismayed, both you and Matt were escorted to the delivery room Brady yelling out via FaceTime that he hoped Matt didn’t pass out.

Out of all the books and websites you read and from the stories some of the WAGS had shared from their experience and friends experience, the pain was definitely worth it in the end. At one point, you thought that Brady’s chirp might actually come to fruition and Matt would pass out, since he was starting to look a little pale, but thankfully it never happened and his color returned once that small little cry erupted throughout the room, bringing the both of you to tears as he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead, whispering small praises as you held the baby on your chest.

Grayson Tkachuk proved to be every bit his father. From the moment he was born— he was just always fussy. Fussy when he was tired, when he was hungry, when he was and and even when he was happy, he couldn’t stay still and couldn’t stay quiet. You were thankful that both of yours and Matt’s parents stayed around for a few weeks to help you and Matt adjust to parenting, especially you since right after Grayson was born, that following week was the Flames longest road series of the season.

Your late night FaceTimes with Matt and even the ones he had on free days, you could see that he was feeling sad and even a bit guilty that he wasn’t there to help you out. But you assured him that your parents were a great help and that if he felt so bad, he could change the first dirty diaper Grayson had the moment Matt came back. “Sure, it can’t be that bad.”

Matt came back late one night, your parents were all away in their guest rooms and you were struggling to fall asleep after Grayson’s last feeding. You felt gross, tired and in desperate need of a shower, but that didn’t stop Matt from cuddling you into the bed and kissing you endlessly.

“How’s my baby?” He mumbled, kissing along your jaw.

“He’s sleeping, thankfully.”

“No, my other baby.” He laughed, leaning up on an elbow. “You, you dork.”

“Oh, I’m—“ Graysons cry came through the baby monitor and you sighed, nudging him away and standing up. “I’m feeling like that.”

He shook his head and for up with you. “Come on, let’s go see our baby.”

You walked down the hall to Graysons nursery, his cries getting louder as you neared the crib. You knew what kind of cry it was, ready to tell Matt what he needed before he picked up Grayson and shook his head. “His butt is heavy.”

“Diaper change, Matty.” You laughed, walking with him over tot he changing table. You helped Matt get Grayson undressed from his onesie, Matt instantly gagging at the smell the was coming from Grayson.

“Oh my God, it’s leaking!” He groaned, shoving his nose into the crook of his elbow and looking at you with pleasing eyes. “He burst the diaper.” 

“You called dibs on the first diaper change of your return home. You smiled, leaning up and kissing his cheek as you patted his shoulder. “Welcome to fatherhood, Matty.”

++

Eight years and three kids later,  you’d become all too familiar with those signs of pregnancy— or so you thought you had. Grayson was a random positive pregnancy test, Madelyn was a ‘watch your period tracking app religiously’ planned kind of pregnancy and Sienna was not quite planned, since you found out you were pregnant with her only 7 months after having Madelyn.

You and Matt loved having the three of them so close in age—Eight, six and five— and while the three were also at each other’s throats over the smallest of things, toys, food, who’s car seat went where, they were also all extremely close. Most mornings, it wasn’t rare to find both girls cuddled with their big brother in his bed, or him sleeping on the floor in between their beds.

Their favorite time of the year, which also happened to be yours and Matt’s as well, was when both families got together at the Tkachuk’s lake house during the week leading up to the 4th of July. It was endless days of laughter, watching your kids play with their cousin and coo over the newest and smallest member, a baby boy Emma and Brady had welcomed only two months earlier, making their four year old son Tucker, a big brother.

Nights spent grilling out and enjoying the night summertime air only to wake up early the next morning to go out on the water— you loved it all. It was arguably the best time of the year.

Until the worst stomach cramps you ever felt in your entire life, ended up with Matt rushing you to the hospital where doctors listened to your assumptions of maybe it being your appendix. It was...a pleasant surprise when they came back and told you that you were pregnant before being told to relax while they brought an ultrasound tech in to make sure that everything was going okay.

“Pregnant.” You huffed, rolling up the tank top and stuffing it beneath your bathing suit top. “Pregnant! I was just pregnant!”

“Actually...it’s been awhile, five years. We wanted to wait a bit since Mads and Sie were so close in age.” He replied, spinning himself around in the stool. “And hey, with this being baby number four, we reached our goal.”

“And after baby number four, I’m staying celibate.” You mumbled.

You went back on birth control after Sienna was born, but it just never agreed with you. Through the last five years, you’d been through the implant, the pill, the iud— and all of them messed with your hormones so much that you and Matt went strictly back to condoms, much to both of your disdain for them.

“Alright, Y/N, I’m here to check to see what’s going on with your little one today,” the tech smiled, walking into the room. “Not your first rodeo?” She laughed, picking up the gel as she nodded at your rolled up t-shirt.

“Our fourth.” You replied, no longer phased by the cold feeling against your skin.

“Well congratulations again,” she smiled, turning on the ultrasound machine before picking up the wand. “I assume that you know what this is?”

You and Matt both nodded as she placed the wand against your belly, moving it around. “Can we do that thing we did with Madelyn? Guess the gender and whoever’s right gets to pick the name?” Matt smiled, holding your hand as he rested his chin on your arm.

“As long as you don’t turn it into a bet with your teammates.” You nodded, glaring at him. “I’m still not amused with the fact you almost let Sienna’s middle name be Sam because Sam guessed the gender correctly.”

“Sam’s not too bad—“

“Sienna Sam Tkachuk?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “It doesn’t flow Matthew! If this is a boy, we’ll let him use his winning bet as a middle name, but no more bets with the guys.”

The ultrasound tech laughed as Matt started to blush. “Okay, agreed.” He said, kissing your knuckles before looking towards the tech. “So how’s baby number four looking?”

“Well, you’re definitely not around 8 weeks like you thought you were. You’re more around 12 weeks and the babies are doing great. The pain you felt was probably more having to do with your pelvic floor trying to prepare for them.”

“See, babe? The babies are fine.” Matt smiled, looking at you before snapping his head back to her. “Wait, babies?”

“Babies,” she smiled, turning the screen towards the both of you and pointing at the three different figures on the screen. “Baby A, Baby B and Baby C, and they’re all looking good in measurements and I don’t see any worry you should be having.”

Your jaw dropped and you felt Matt’s grip on your hand fall as the both of you stared at the screen in shock. “Babies...plural...three,” you said, letting out a small laugh. “Triplets?! I’m having triplets?!”

“Mhhm, and I’ll get these scans for you. But just know that they’re doing great and with multiples, your doctor is probably going to want you to check in a lot more. So when you go back home, be sure to make an appointment as soon as you can.” She smiled, handing you a paper towel before walking to leave the room.

Matt got up and walked towards the screen, staring at it before squatting down beside you and staring at your belly, poking it. “Huh...I guess I can kinda see a bump. I can’t believe there’s three mini us’s in there.” He turned to you with a big smile, only to let it falter as soon as he saw your glaring eyes.

“You’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final.”

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 6)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Special Grade

Next Chapter: Bird of Flame

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

We are finally past the introductions and getting into the bulk of the story🥰💕 excited for this to unravel.

Chapter 6: Speed of Sound

You had a physical and cursed energy examination along with the second years the next day. Much like when you had your height and weight measured at the clinic. But this time, it was your power, speed, stamina, defense level, and flexibility with and without your cursed technique that they were measuring.

“Ugh, it’s so windy out today.” Mai complained. The sun was really bright as the four of you first years stood there.

“Y/n.” All of you turned to look at the source of the voice. You smiled brightly upon hearing him. “It has been a while.”

“Noritoshi senpaii~” you skipped your way towards him with a huge smile on your face. “How have you been?”

Noritoshi was always busy, with clan affairs, missions (now that he got recommended for grade 1 and is enroute to a semi-grade 1) and studies that you only had a short time to say hi whenever you passed by the other in the hallways. But he always secretly looked forward to seeing you.

He nodded his greeting to the other first years before turning to smile down at you as you came up to him. “Not too bad. Hope you’ve adjusted well to campus life?” he murmured, eyes softening.

“I’m okay, don't worry about me. Shared class today, this is my first time. I wonder how it will go?” You excitedly said.

“The usual, you might find it boring. Ah, and I’ve heard that you were given the title Special Grade. Congratulations.” He said.

“Is that something to be celebrated?” you asked while tilting your head to the side. “Thank you though.”

He mimicked you, tilting his head in the same direction and leaning forward so that your eyes were both still in line with each other’s, “It’s proof that you’re strong and that’s also a good thing.”

You hummed in thought. “I don’t really care about rankings to be honest. I just need to be strong enough to protect the ones I love.”

Noritoshi’s eyes slightly widened at that. He was about to speak when he was rudely interrupted.

“TSUCHI CHAN! You owe me a fight.” Todo senpai boomed with Momo sighing tiredly beside him. You jumped about 4 feet into the air at the sound and Noritoshi protectively held a hand in front of you again. “That’s enough Todo. It’s still early in the morning.”

“A fight, or else I will reveal who your ideal type is to everyone here.” He grinned.

Oh no he didn’t. The winds picked up around you as your cursed energy flared dangerously. Everyone except Noritoshi took a step back from you.

You looked up at him with the coldest eyes you have, “You promised you wouldn’t senpai. But I am not backing down from a fight. Don’t cry too badly when I bury you 6 feet underground.”

“There it is! Her dark side.” Miwa cried out. “You’re gonna die senpai.” But Todou just laughed. “I knew you were interesting the moment we met Tsuchi chan. It’s settled. A fight later after class.”

“Todo’s gonna die later. I look forward to seeing it.” Mai yawned nonchalantly as Mechamaru just nodded. Momo just laughed as she settled in beside Mai.

Soon Utahime called you all to attention and you went on with the activities. You were competing with Todo for almost every measurement (with the use of cursed energy of course. You were not so strong without it).

You just laughed at yourself as you found out you had the weakest physical punching power among the first years. Yep, you rely too much on your cursed energy to back you up.

You had the highest score though when you used your cursed energy. You warped the space around your hand in a spiral motion, the wind picking up around your fist, before you propelled yourself to punch the target. BAANG! It was pushed a number of meters back further than Todo’s target.

Todo just clapped. “Well done.” And the entire time, Noritoshi was closely monitoring you, staying by your side and asking questions about your technique.

At that, you tugged on his sleeve and he smiled and bent down for you. You told him quietly that you would tell him more about it later when you’re alone. His eyebrows raised, but his smile widened, “Thank you for that. I don’t mind telling you about mine too.”

The others were just silently watching you both out of the corner of their eyes.

“Mai chan, wanna bet as to when those two will get together?” Momo whispered. Everyone else except the two of you heard her.

“Depends on what you wanna bet on. But I’m willing to bet they’ll get together in the next maybe 4 months or so.” she smirked.

“3 months” Miwa piped up quietly.

“Maybe 2 months lol.” Mechamaru said.

“No. They might take… a few weeks. 3?” Todo said seriously.

Utahime cleared her throat out loud gathering all of your attention. “Last activity. Running laps. This track field is 400 meters long as you all know. Finish 1 lap. First without then with your cursed technique. Nishimiya and Tsuchimikado flying is permitted.”

You perked up at that and clapped your hands excitedly. Then stopped and thought about it remembering your father’s words:

“ ‘You don’t have to max out your abilities. We keep our clan’s abilities as much of a secret as possible to prevent any information leakage that may be used against us. Remember to use your technique wisely. You’re the strongest in our clan, sweetheart.’ You nodded, ‘Okay papa.’ ”

So God speed mode of a Mach 4 is out of the picture. Mach speed 3… maybe out. ‘No I can limit it to just under the speed of sound.’ you thought determinedly.

You zoned out the next hour until it was time to run with your cursed technique. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.” Noritoshi put a hand on your back to support you.

You quickly shook your head “I’m fine, no worries.” He didn’t look like he believed you but let you go ahead.

“Tsuchimikado. It says here on your report that you can move at mach speeds.” Utahime spoke. FUCK. Oh well. You turned to her with the stiffest smile on your face as she realized you didn’t want the information disclosed.

You took your starting position, still determined to keep it under half the speed of sound. “Ready… go!” You whipped around the entire trackfield in just under 3 seconds.

“Tsuchimikado. 2.4 seconds.” You nodded and jogged back beside Miwa who gave you a high five. “That was sooo cool, you need to let me fly with you next time.” She excitedly said.

You laughed. “I’m not the best at holding people with me when I move at high speeds. But slow flying is fine.”

“Why don’t you go faster?” Todo asked. Everyone quieted down as you turned to him. “I have a feeling you've been limiting your output. You’ve obviously been holding back this entire time, are you not taking it seriously? We are here to challenge ourselves, there is no need to hold back.”

Your eye and finger twitched. “That’s not it.” This man was amazing at pushing your buttons. But you sighed as there was no reason to hide it anymore. “Utahime sensei can I-”

“Go ahead. When you’re ready.”

You took your starting position again. You could push Mach 5 if you wanted to, though just above Mach 1 should be enough.

But you can feel Todo just silently egging you on from the sidelines. And it honestly worked. “Start!”

There was a loud BANG! You were back in the starting line in less than a second. The only proof of your movement was the smoke and dust rising above the tracks.

“I am so sorry, but I didn’t catch that. I physically can’t. That was less than a second. Your speed please?” Utahime called out. “Mach 2.”

You stepped right up to Todo with a challenging glint. “Prepare yourself for later.” He just huffed out a proud smile, then you stood aside with Miwa and Noritoshi.

“Was that, just now a sonic boom?” asked Noritoshi. “No it was my ringtone.” you deadpanned. The others choked a laugh out at that.

He turned to you with a pout, but you just bumped his hip with yours and laughed “It’s called sarcasm Noritoshi senpai~” He quietly chuckled along, which he was surprised at how easy it was to do so whenever he was with you.

You all finished up. Momo was also pretty fast, going at 10 seconds around the track. Noritoshi senpai blew you out of the water to be honest. His record was 35 seconds on foot. How. That was over the world record for men’s running.

You noticed a red marking forming over his eye and remembered seeing it for a bit when it came to the strength measurement test earlier. He was just a bit behind you, Mechamaru and Todo in terms of power.

And Mechamaru and Todo were largely… disproportionate to him, being way bigger and bulkier. But he could somehow manage.

“Are any of you going to spar after this? If so I will be supervising.” Utahime sensei called.

“We will.” Todo senpai motioned between the two of you. Noritoshi surprisingly spoke up too, “I also wanna have a go against y/n if that’s fine with you.” He turned to you with a concerned look. You just smiled, “Of course it’s fine Noritoshi senpai!”

“Okay, try not to break anything, limit the damage here on campus please. I will be calling a close if it gets too bad.” Utahime warned.

“There's no need for that.” You smiled to yourself.

Author's Rambles: Mach Speed (AKA Supersonic speed) is described as a speed greater than the speed of sound. Mach X means that the speed is X times greater than the speed of sound. A Mach 5 would be categorised as Hypersonic speed^^. O/C uses her Psychokinesis to move her forward as fast as she can.

Blood Bound Chapter Masterlist

[quietmyfearswith]

i’ll drive ; august walker x fem!reader 2/3

status — completed series

word count —  5,933 words

warnings — SMUT, unprotected penetrative sex, soft!august, confused!august

pairing — august walker x fem!reader

a/n — so i had driving lessons last september and thought abt how wow it would make a great story if a driving instructor fell for their student,, and the og idea had in mind was that for a dark fic i might still do one though idk but i never really knew which character to do it for. then i was like what if he was pretending to be a driving instructor and since i just watched mi fallout sometime last month thought id be perfect for august!! sorry i couldn’t publish this any faster, had some things going on offline so yeah lmk what you think of this chapter. there’s only one chapter left!  Y/F/N = your father’s name

masterlist | series masterlist

“You want me to do what?” August scoffed as he read the mission file he was handed. Sloane raised a hand to the other agent who was about to explain it again; she knew that the Hammer would more likely accept the mission if she convinced him.

“We want you to pose as a driving instructor; from there you’ll be assigned to Y/N. Her father is Nick Roberts; do you recall who he is?” Nodding, August placed the folder on the desk and looked at Sloane with a scowl, “Yeah, I do. He transports Perez’ drugs and firearms in and out of the country; possibly close ties to even more underground activity.” 

“Suspected of transporting,” The other agent — August didn't bother remembering his name since he rarely got to work with him anyway — clarified. “And how will me posing as a driving instructor get us to Nick Roberts?”

“Nick Roberts is just an alias; his real name is Y/F/N, and the one you’ll be assigned in teaching is his daughter. You get close to her, you’ll be able to get to Roberts.” It seemed like too big of a stretch, August quietly reflected; what if she cut ties with her father? What if he really wasn’t her father?

“Considering this is the only lead we have so far on Perez’ case, I’ll do it,” He eventually conceded; Sloane was pleased with that as she smiled, “Very well, take that case file with you to familiarize yourself with Y/N. Your lessons with her will be from Monday to Friday, the whole of next week. Understood?”

With a nod, he grabbed the case file and stood up to exit the room. Heading to his office, he figured that it was best to find out what he can about this Y/N. He read about how she had graduated college and has been steadily working in her chosen profession. Since the separation of her parents she lived with her dad, and by the looks of it has a close bond with him. It was amusing to him how someone of her age still doesn’t know how to drive; but nevertheless it was a blessing in disguise that she didn’t since it helped with their case.

Though her case file had her passport and driving permit photo, August made a reckless decision to look up if she had any social media accounts; and she did. It wasn’t usual for him to look up their target’s social media accounts — in the past he would settle for the provided picture on the mission reports and from there familiarize himself with what they looked like — but there was an itch he needed to scratch. There was something about Y/N that motivated him to look at her photos, thankfully her account was on public. “Can’t wait to see you soon, love.”

Henry James was his alias for this mission and here he was leaning against the parked car as he was waiting for Y/N. He held his breath once the door opened and revealed a girl in a romper. “Hi! Are you Henry?” She was too cheerful in her greeting he noted; perhaps that had something to do with how young and innocent she was. Nodding sternly, “See anyone else beside me, sweetheart?”

She giggled at his remark as she tucked her hair behind her ear — a nervous habit she’d develop. “Go ahead and settle yourself on the front seat.” She nodded and made her way over to the driver’s seat. As she sat down, she placed her bag on the console, “You have your learning permit?” She grabbed the piece of paper that was in the pocket of her romper and handed it over to him; he thanked her as grabbed it and filled out the information he had, “Do you know what to do once you get in the car and onto the driver’s seat?” 

“Adjust the seat, adjust the mirrors, check the lights, and make sure I have gas,” She listed out as she did all of those. Clicking the pen once he’s filled in the necessary information he turned to her with a raised brow, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Looking around her, she tried her best to recall the driving lessons she took and when nothing seemed missing to her she just shook her head no with a slight pout — August originally thought was a childish and foolish expression but she just made it look downright adorable.

Y/N held her breath as Henry leaned over to her so close that their noses nearly touched and his fingertips brushed against her skin as he grabbed the seatbelt, dragging it across her to click it in its place. She didn’t expect him to get that close to her, but she certainly wasn’t complaining when it gave her an up close view of how good he looked in that polo shirt; and the man too was surprised at his sudden move — he was debating with himself that he only did so to ensure her safety, just so she’d be alive and share about her father’s whereabouts, but there was this part of him that was convinced that he just wanted a reason to be close to her. “You’re forgetting the most important safety precaution, sweetheart; and that’s to wear your seatbelt.”

Smiling nervously at him she apologized to which he simply grunted at, “I trust you know how to start the engine?” Her confident persona surfaced, her right hand turned the key to start the car as her left hand rested on the wheel. “What do you need to do before pulling away?”

“Check the mirrors for any oncoming vehicles,” She glanced at the rear and side view mirrors, “Look over to your blind spot,” Twisting her head to look over her shoulder and verify that there was no one or nothing that was incoming, “Signal then drive away.” Turning on her signal light, she put the car from park to drive and began leaving her front yard.

August was impressed with her — for someone who was such a fumbling mess earlier was really focused on driving; he thought that was rare for a beginning driver, as they were far too excited at the thought of getting to go anywhere they wanted. “Good job. I have to say your focus is impeccable as well,” His compliment got her nervously saying thanks. “What’s the speed limit for residential areas?”

“30 kilometers per hour; Do I Just go straight?” They were nearing an intersection and she was told, “Yeah go straight; we’re not leaving the neighborhood just yet.” She nodded and just before she got to cross the intersection she hit the brakes smoothly as there was a stop sign. “One car there, still empty there,” Y/N took note as she moved her head left and right to check the traffic situation.

Once the road was clear she drove straight ahead and her instructor applauded her, “When you take the test, don’t be afraid to talk to yourself like that if it helps. And don’t forget to check if there was already a car from the opposite direction with a stop sign; know why?”

She nodded firmly as her eyes shifted from the road ahead, the rear view mirror, and the speedometer, “Because then they’d have right of way.” August noticed how the tone of her voice would differ; during the earlier part of their interaction, it was soft and low, but now as they drove around it was loud and clear. “When is your driver’s exam again?” He knew when she’d take it — he just thought that by asking that he’d somehow be able to milk information regarding her father.

“This Saturday,” She responded and it seemed that she was nervous about it given how her voice lowered again. “Turn right at the next intersection,” He ordered her. Seeing that she had no stop signs in her direction, she turned on the signal light and moved to the appropriate lane. Once she checked that there were no pedestrians crossing, moved to complete her turn.

“Notice how there weren’t any stop signs on two sides and yet there were on the two?” When she nodded he quizzed her again, “What does that mean?” Before answering him there were kids who were about to cross and she stepped on the brakes, coming to a complete stop and smiled as she signaled for the kids to cross. As she waved at the kids who smiled and yelled thank you she answered him, “Means that I have the right of way; even if someone arrives from the directions with stop signs they have to wait for me to pass before going on.”

“It’s great that you know the answers, some don’t,” He fed her some bullshit to which she bought as she softly laughed. “Well I don’t want to have to retake the exam,” Her lack of use of the word again caught his attention and was quick to ask about it, “This is really your first time taking the test?”

She nodded yes as she stopped at a four way stop, allowing a pickup truck that stopped before her. “How come?” Pressing her foot on the gas, she brought the car forward as she explained, “I don’t know really. My dad usually brings me to places or I take the public transport.” Bingo, August thought, here’s a chance to know more about his whereabouts. “And now? You’re dad can’t take you? Turn left on the next intersection.”

Nodding, she checked the pedestrian if there was someone crossing and stopped at the stop sign to check for any oncoming vehicles, “He’s so busy with work that he can’t. Especially now that he’s out of town.” Not enough information, August thought; but he thought that by asking more questions he’d come off as too nosy. “Do you know how to park uphill and downhill?” 

“I know which direction I have to turn the wheels to but I haven’t done that yet,” He nodded and instructed her on what to do. After teaching her how to do so properly, they took a break as August made some pointers over the things he observed as she drove. “It’s good that you keep your eyes moving around to check your surroundings; but don’t stay focused on one place for too long.”

Looking over at her, his heart beat fast with how her eyes looked wide and eager — and somehow he adored how innocent she looked, as she had no idea on what kind of world she got herself involved in ; it distracted him for a while but he managed to tear his gaze on her as he cleared his throat, “But sometimes you turn your signal light on too early, so be careful of that. And don’t stop too far from the stop line, that gives you demerit points.”

She nodded and took a mental note of everything he said, “What about with my parking?” Henry opened the door to check the distance of the car from the pavement, “You hill parking is good so far; not too close or too far. Think you can do parallel parking on that car on the next street?” Y/N eyes followed to where his finger pointed to a sedan that was parked, “Might need some help.”

Appreciating her honesty August reassured her, “Don’t worry I’ll guide you through it.” With his words she began to leave where she was parked and crossed the intersection. Once she was helped on the parallel parking process, her instructor beamed at her, “Good job, Y/N!”

“Thanks for your help, Henry,” The agent admittedly was caught off guard at the name she used— his dumb ass nearly corrected her and told him that wasn’t his name — he blamed it with how sweetly yet shyly she thanked him so that made him lose his concentration. “No worries,” He gruffly replied, which had Y/N found was odd with how his mood seemed to shift given his tone. 

“Why don’t we head back home but let’s go through the main road; know the speed limit over there?” She nodded her head as she answered, “60 kilometers per hour, but by Hammonds Avenue it reduces to 50.” Satisfied he rubbed his hands over his thighs, “Fantastic! Get on with it, love.”

Her breath hitched at the name he called her and she paused for a second before pulling away; August too had no idea where that came from but he just couldn’t help himself. The rest of the drive on the way home was filled with stiff and tortuous silence; the radio was not turned on since the agent deemed it would distract her from driving. “Do an uphill parking over here,” He pointed to her front porch. She nodded and poked her tongue out a bit as she concentrated on the task at hand. “Okay, now neutral, then all the way to the left.”

When she felt the tire hit the curb she smiled brightly and turned to Henry, “All done.” The proud expression on her face was so captivating that despite holding himself back he couldn’t prevent himself from mirroring her proud expression with a genuine smile, “You did well today, Y/N. Maybe next time you’ll be the one bringing your dad to work.”

August kept his fingers crossed that his jab would provide him with more information about it; and she partially did, “Not anytime soon though; he’s not due back for at least two weeks.” Despite being disappointed at the vague information he managed not to physically display it as he nodded, “Oh that’s too bad then,” He faked sympathy and unbuckled his seatbelt as she did the same, “Same time tomorrow for our lesson okay?” 

Nodding her head up and down, she grabbed her bag from the console and checked the road before exiting. “See you tomorrow, Henry,” She waved as they passed by each other as he walked over to the driver’s side. When their skins brushed, they both could feel a rush of electricity and it made Y/N nervously giggle and skipped away from him without even looking back at him due to how embarrassed she was. 

Whereas on the other hand August was confused; he never met someone who made him feel this way. The way she was looking or smiling at him had him weak in the knees; which was something he never experienced before. As she was swiftly entering her home, the Hammer found himself watching her as she did so; just need to make sure she gets home safely, he convinced himself. Though the rational part of himself argued back idiot, she’s already on her porch! What possible harm can come to her?

Once she got inside he finally got in the car and fished out his phone from the glove compartment to connect it to the radio and call Sloane as he began driving to his temporary apartment. After a few rings she picked up, “Walker? How was the first day?”

“Not too bad. Got some minimal information about Roberts,” He could hear faint footsteps on Sloane’s end of the call and inferred she had just gotten back from a meeting. “What have you found out then?”

“Apparently he’s out of town,” His boss’ disappointment with the information was heard through her long sigh, “Any idea when will he return? And to where he is?” He shook his head as he spoke, “Y/N said at least two weeks before he comes back from work out of town.” 

“Well that can’t be good,” No shit, August wanted to add but kept silent. “Is there any way you can remain in contact with Y/N even after your week of driving lessons are done?” Glaring at his phone the agent voiced his disbelief at what he was hearing, “Why should I pursue this lead? Can’t there be any other way to get to Roberts? What about his associates?”

Sloane let out an irritated sigh — one she rarely had to let out when she was talking to her best agent because he usually got the job done — before explaining, “His associates change; they come and go. We never really found a certain person or persons he works with. Y/N is the only constant person in his life and so if anything really she’s our only hope of bringing him in.” The silence from August’s end indicated that she got through his head.

“Now, is there any way you can remain in contact with Y/N even after your week of driving lessons?” He was now parked in the car park of his temporary base and he thought for a few seconds on how to answer her question. Call it impulsivity or whatever, but before he could even clearly think things through he found himself suggesting, “Perhaps I can ask her out on a date?”

In the years they’ve worked together, Sloane was always impressed and surprised with how August managed to accomplish each mission he assigned her successfully. But this one in particular, he surprised her with his suggestion; heck even August himself couldn’t believe the words that just left his mouth. “I just think that’s the cleanest way to play this one out,” He tried to defend his suggestion, “What other reason would a driving instructor have to remain in contact with their student right?”

The Hammer was cursing himself out with how feeble his justification was; Sloane on the other hand did find herself agreeing with him, “Do what you must.”

The rest of the week went by quickly and Y/N found herself looking forward to every driving lesson she had with her gorgeous instructor. And now that it was the last hour of the last day of their driving lessons, she couldn’t help but wish she got more time to spend with him. In the back of her mind she thought about failing the test in hopes that he’d help her out again. But then it would backfire quick if they sent a different instructor instead.

“Parallel park one last time with that Dodge over there,” His instructions brought her back from the plan she was hatching and going through. As she was executing his instructions, she failed to notice how instead of looking at what she was doing, Henry was observing every facial expression she was completing the task at hand. “There! How was that?” Her eyes staring back at him snapped him out of his entranced stare as he blinked a few times, “Oh well,” He opened the car door to check if the tires hit the curb and how far they were from the curb, “Good job, as usual. Though be careful when you turn the wheel to the right.”

She nodded slowly as she repeated his comment, “How do you feel about your exam tomorrow?” At the mention of her dreaded test she groaned a bit and he chuckled softly — he never saw her this stressed about the test in their previous lessons, so seeing her react this way was somewhat amusing to him. She looked at him with her lips slightly pouting and the skin in her forehead all wrinkled up, “I’m nervous about it; but at the same time I feel like I can do it?”

Henry’s left hand settled itself on her forearm as he affectionately rubbed her, as if he were trying to rid her of the stress and anxieties, “You’re gonna do great, love. Just calm yourself down before taking the test and don’t be afraid to talk to yourself as you drive if it helps you focus.” Y/N’s heartbeat sped up with how gentle he was; over the course of their lessons he came across as stern and rigid but this side of him was something she could get used to.

“How ‘bout you drive back home now, yeah?” She nodded and did so without trouble. August remembered how her father was gone and wondered who’d bring her to the test, “By the way, since you mentioned you dad was out of town, who’ll go with you then?”

Timidly smiling to herself she admitted, “I’ve asked some of my friends, but they all said how they had their own plans. I was gonna ask some of my coworkers and see how that goes.” Clicking his tongue with how unprepared she was, his mouth spit out, “Well how about I go with you then?” Before his brain could even analyze if that was the right thing to say.

Seeing as Y/N was driving she could only briefly glance at him, “You want to take me to the test?” August now backed himself against a wall and couldn’t find a way out, to hell with it, he thought to himself. “Way better than you driving illegally is it not?”

“That is true,” Y/N acknowledged, “But do you do that for all of your students?” Henry let out a laugh and her heart fluttered with how deep it was before he remarked, “Not for everyone, sweetheart, I’ll tell you that.” Feeling cocky with that she mused, “Then I must be special then?”

If you only knew, love, August thought to himself; while Y/N was scolding at herself for possibly flirting with her driving instructor. But technically he wouldn’t be on the day of her exam because their lessons ended, right? “Wanna know how special you really are?” He leaned his elbow on the console, bringing himself closer to her and he sensed how she held her breath as her body stiffened. Shaking her head was the only response she could offer as she was now focusing on parking the car in front of her house. 

After coming to a halt she turned over to him and looked at him with curious eyes; Henry then took it as his cue to speak, “You’re so special that should you pass your exam tomorrow, I want to take you out on a date.” Her eyes widened comically that August thought she was an inspiration for a cartoon character. And the agent wasn’t sure if what he was saying was spoken out of desperation for the mission to succeed or because he had taken interest in her.

It had taken her a few seconds before replying and the agent was surprised when she said, “Are you shitting me or is this actually real?” He rid the smirk he had on his face and replaced it with a serious expression, “This is real, sweetheart. Do you think I go around and grace my students with nicknames?” He took her avoiding eyes as a no and his hand grabbed her chin to get her to face him directly, “So do we have a deal, sweetheart? I take you out right after your test for a date, if you pass?”

August held his breath as she unhooked his hand from her chin and leaned over him, planting a kiss on his cheek. His blue eyes were now wide as she had a toothy grin once she pulled away and with a smirk of her own said, “We have a deal, Henry.”

August found himself tapping his leg as he stared at the wall clock, hoping that his domineering stare would make time go faster. Thirty minutes had passed since Y/N started her driving exam and the agent found himself reevaluating in the meantime. Was asking her out on a date the only way to get close to Roberts?

Of course it was, he thought, She said her father will return in two weeks. You’d only have to go out with her once a week and somehow bring him into their conversation and hopefully milk out more intel about him.

Seeing a man dressed in a flannel-patterned polo reeled him back into the present; trailing behind the man was Y/N who had a blank expression on her face. Furrowing his eyebrows he mouthed, “What happened?” Anxiety coursed through his body but it quickly left his body as she winked at him and turned to follow the man. “Do you want to retain your picture from your permit or want to take another one?” He overheard the man ask Y/N, prompting August to relax and smile as he connected the dots — she passed her exam! 

But as he was mentally celebrating her success he found himself thinking about how he now had to take her out on the date he promised. It’s just for work, he deliberated, only going out with her to know more about her father. Nothing more, nothing less. However there was this thought nagging him on the back of his head that it wasn’t just for that reason he was taking her out.

Henry groaned as her lips sucked on the sweet spot on his neck as her nails were planted on his shoulders. His large hands alternated between squeezing and rubbing her ass as she grinded herself on his lap.

They found themselves in this situation after Y/N giddily squealed at August how she passed; the agent kissed her forehead as he told her how proud he was of her. As they went to their date he let her drive and as he settled on the passenger seat, his hand rested on her thigh, testing the waters to see if she was comfortable with it — and by the way her thighs pressed against each other, caging in his hand between them, he got the message that she welcomed it happily.

Even throughout the dinner, they both couldn’t get enough of each other. The skin of their arms remained so close to each other that it was as if they were glued to each other. Y/N was beginning to think that the only reason Henry ordered pasta was so he could eat with a single hand so his opposite hand can rest on her thigh. But she wasn’t complaining as she rested her thigh above his.

As they drove back to her place one thing led to another and it ended with Y/N climbing over the console and situating herself on Henry’s lap as their mouths captured each other’s. Y/N unbuttoned his shirt as her lips littered his chest with kisses, she’d linger sometimes in a certain spot long enough to leave marks. 

Rolling her hips in his lap, she felt his hard on pressing against her clothed crotch and moaned against his skin. When her dainty fingers were done unclasping the buttons that confined his toned and broad upper body, her hand travelled lower to palm his bulge and before she could open the zipper Henry caught her roaming hand with his, “I think doing this in your house is far better than some cramped up vehicle; don’t you think?”

A blissed out nod was all the response Y/N could give; with that affirmation August opened the door and carried the girl out and shut the car door with his foot. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she planted kisses all over her instructor’s face. She whined as she was put down but understood that it was her cue to unlock the door; though the man behind her was not making the task easy as he was nipping at the skin of her neck and his hands were rubbing her arms.

“Fucking finally,” August rasped out as Y/N managed to unlock the front door and they both hastily entered and the agent shut and locked the door behin him; he spun her to face him so he could rip off her shirt and he smirked as the girl whimpered, clearly turned on with what he did. “Such a naughty girl you are, aren’t you? Going out without even covering these nice tits.” Wrapping his mouth around a breast, she ran her fingers through his hair to encourage him with what he was doing. Without detaching his mouth from her tit and instead switching between the two, he took the initiative to lead them into her couch. 

Pushing her to lie on her back, August rid himself of his clothes; he was moving too quickly that Y/N didn’t have the time to take a good look at his chiseled body. Hovering above her, he smirked at her once he noticed her thighs were clenching, “You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you?”

Pathetically nodding she grabbed at his shoulders, “Please touch me, Henry.” Snarking at her he tore her leggings and her panties had the same fate. Now that she was just as exposed as he was, August leaned down to lick downwards from her clit and to her pussy. “You taste heavenly, love.” He lapped at her more, needing to quench his thirst for her and curiosity of what she would taste like. “As much as I adore your taste I’m afraid this will have to wait,” Pushing away her legs that wrapped around his neck, he kissed his way up until he was face to face with her.

“Why not?” She whined as she clawed at his back, moaning as she felt the plain of his back muscles. He distracted her by kissing her deeply as his hand stroked his cock a few times before sliding it in her in one stroke. “That’s why,” He huskily answered against her lips; he moved so his knees touched her thighs, allowing him to rut into her properly.

August removed his lips from hers as he instead planted kisses on her neck as his hands toyed with her nipples and breasts; Y/N, on the other hand, was whining about how good he felt. The skin at the back of her thighs was rippling as he thrusted himself in and out of her rapidly and harshly; the top of his thighs hitting against the back of hers, “You feel so good, Henry. So thick and hard inside me.” The man smirked at her wails, loving how wrecked she sounded — in the back of his nasty brain he noted that this was his favorite version of her.

Her hands held onto his biceps, nails leaving harsh marks on his pale and sweaty skin; it turned August even more how her delicate hands couldn’t even wrap half the size of his arm. Her velvet and silk-like walls were squeezing into his cock so tight that it was triggering his orgasm already — the agent would usually last longer, but given how turned on he was coupled with the fact the past week edged him, he was already close to unloading his bottled up frustrations.

“You already got me almost cumming,” He hoarsely whispered in her ear, feeling her wrap her legs around him to pull her closer against him. That didn’t stop him from slamming into her pussy to the point his trimmed pubic hair rubbed against her clit, adding more friction and pleasure for the both of them. “Seems like you are too, love,” Both her nipples were then squeezed to tease her even more and August was just even more amused with how responsive her precious body was underneath him.

“Please Henry, make me cum. I wanna feel your cum all over me too,” She managed to gasp out in between breaths; the man above her growled when he heard how good she sounded as she begged and had no choice but to comply. He leaned down to suckle on her nipple as the other breast was being toyed by his hand. Her clit too received attention as it was being rubbed and pinched with his other hand. As his hips slammed against her thighs harshly and his cock railed her in swift and sharp thrusts, Y/N could only moan and roll her eyes at the simulations she was receiving.

The only warning she could provide him of her impending orgasm was her patting against his biceps as her walls unexpectedly clung to his dick tighter than ever and came around him. August didn’t relent and continued his animalistic pace, milking her orgasm and removing his mouth from her tit to stare at her blissed out and drowsy state provoked his orgasm as well.

“Fucking hell, love,” He groaned out as he slid in all the way inside her and didn’t thrust furthermore as he spilled his load inside her. With their foreheads touching against each other, they breathed against each other to calm themselves down. Y/N’s hands removed themselves from Henry’s biceps; instead she was now stroking his back, as if coaxing the large man above her to calm down. While August rested his hands on her sides, as if memorizing every inch of her skin.

Y/N squealed as she was being lifted up and carried into her bedroom. Contrary to how she was laid down on the couch roughly, her former driving instructor laid her down gently. Kissing her forehead he went to her ensuite bathroom and returned with a towel. Y/N looked at him with loving eyes as he wiped off their combined juices that spilled out of her delicious cunt. Throwing the towel on her hamper, he then laid beside her and August chuckled lightly with how quick the girl was to latch herself onto him for a cuddle — and he did open his arms to welcome her and wrapped them around her smaller figure.

“I hope you don’t do this with all your students?” Her comment had him humorously rolling his eyes and Y/N giggled at his antics. “No, I don’t, love. I promise,” He even held his pinky up for a pinky promise and she was more than eager to latch her pinky with his; bringing their tangled pinkies to his mouth, Henry placed a gentle kiss on them before untangling them so they could hold hands instead. “Well I guess I’m really special?”

Nodding, he lowered his head down a bit so he could kiss her deeply and passionately. Breaking their kiss August replied, “So special that I want to take you out again next week,” Without even disconnecting their lips.

Y/N sleepily mumbled, “I’d like that a lot, Henry.” Her eyes were starting to feel heavy and August kissed her forehead again, “Sleep, love. I’ll be here in the morning.” She nodded against him and did so. For the next few minutes, the CIA agent reflected his actions and decisions. He told Sloane that he’d ask Y/N out on a date only to remain in contact with her. That was it — a date.

But how the hell did he end up enjoying the date — let alone her company and herself — and then taking her to bed? This was a mess. He shouldn’t have slept with her for it would just complicate things. When August saw how she was steadily breathing, he moved out of the bed and rested her head on a pillow. He went out to her living room to look for his pants that he earlier discarded; grabbing for his phone he sent out a text to Sloane :

Secured a meetup with Y/N next week. Will try to fish out more information about Roberts.

He turned off his phone and put it back in his pocket. As he was staring at his scattered clothes, he was debating whether he should stay the night with Y/N or just leave right now. Even though he knew which option seemed like the most logical, he surprised himself. He went back to bed and cuddled Y/N close as he too began to drift off to dormancy — he stayed.

[vcg73]

FIC: Kurt Birthday Drabbles

Earlier this week @elledelajoie left a comment on something I wrote all the way back in 2014.  I had genuinely forgotten I ever started it, but the original idea was to write 21 Kurt Hummel birthday drabbles. I had written just 7 of them, but after we chatted about it, I decided to go ahead and finish.  

If you’re not familiar, a drabble is a scene of exactly 100 words, not counting title headers. Since Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel’s co-birthday (May 27) is coming up this Thursday, here they are. This goes definite AU at Birthday #19. Because you know I would never sentence my beloved Kurt to a life of being a doormat to people who did not appreciate and value him.

Never underestimate the power of feedback!

~*~*~*~*~

Birthday #1

Kurt’s blue eyes went wide as a frosted cupcake was set upon his high-chair tray, a single candle ablaze on its surface.  

When Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Andy, Grandpa Curtis and Grandma Eileen started singing to him, he smiled and clapped both hands hard around the tempting pile of frosting.

Kurt laughed when the sugary topping went flying and a big splatter of white abruptly decorated Daddy’s surprised face.

Everyone else started laughed too, including the startled father, who retaliated by giving his birthday boy a sticky peck on the cheek and then helped him to blow out a new candle.

Birthday #2

Kurt looked between his presents, confused.

Mommy had given him the pretty dolly he had begged for at the store. Daddy had given him a truck, not big enough to ride but too big to live with the little cars Daddy gave him at Christmas.

His parents seemed to be mad at each other.

Kurt looked at the doll, then at the truck. He smiled and placed Dolly inside the truck and began to drive her around the carpet.

Mommy and Daddy seemed surprised by his actions, but then they laughed, and Kurt knew he had figured out the puzzle.

 Birthday #3

His shoes were black and shiny, buckles on the sides and 1-inch heels on the base. He clomped over the hardwood floors, listening to the click-tap-click-tap in delight. They went perfectly with his dove gray coveralls with “Kurt” sewn on the pocket in black sequins. Mommy had made the outfit for him.

Spotting Daddy watching him, Kurt threw himself into waiting arms. Daddy’s smile looked like he had an owie but was trying to be a big boy and not cry.

Kurt hugged him. “It’s okay, Daddy.”

Burt looked surprised but hugged him back. “Yeah, buddy. I think it is.”

 Birthday #4

Ballet girls were nice. When they heard it was his birthday today, they threw him a party. Kurt puffed up with pleasure when presented with cookies, a sparkly wand and a tiara that read ‘Happy Birthday’ in shiny letters. He was not as fond of the kisses they gave, but four was very grown up, so he screwed up his face and allowed it. The teacher even let him wear the special puffy pink tutu over his little black leotard! 

 He saw Mommy and Daddy up in the gallery taking pictures, so he waved.

Kurt hoped today would last forever.

  Birthday #5

“Can I have cupcakes?”

Kurt’s mother looked up from her book. “I don’t think we have any, sweetheart.”

“Can we have some Thursday?  My birthday is the last day of preschool.”

“It is?” she said, looking surprised. “Is it your birthday already?”

He nodded seriously. “Don’t you remember, Mommy? You were there.”

She laughed. “Well, you have me there.  What kind of cupcakes would you like, sweetie? And don’t say cheesecake. Those are two completely different kinds of dessert.”

Kurt’s hopeful expression fell. “Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. Then his face brightened again. “Chocolate?”

She nodded. “That we can do.”

   Birthday #6

“Daddy!”

Burt sat up just in time to catch the little body that launched at him. “What’s wrong, slugger?”

“It’s my birthday!”

Grinning despite the way his heart was hammering at the abrupt awakening, Burt asked, “Yeah? I like birthdays. Do I get a present?”

“No,” the boy scoffed. “I get presents!”

 Burt squinted at the clock. 3:15am. “Not until morning, you don’t.”

Kurt pouted and tried, “It’s almost morning.”

“Not close enough, kid. C’mere,” Burt pulled him into the warm bed between himself and his wife.

Kurt snuggled down and went right back to sleep.  

Burt was less lucky.

 Birthday #7

Kids had started treating him funny this year. He was too fancy, too girly, holding hands was weird.

Nobody was coming.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Am I too late?”

They jumped as a little black girl with pom-pom hair popped out of nowhere.

“I’m Mercedes,” she greeted. “We just moved here. Mom said you would have invited me if you’d known.”

“I’m Kurt.” He smiled. “Do you like tea parties?”

“Is there cake?”

Mrs. Hummel beamed. “Cake, ice cream, and Kool-Aid.”

Kurt shrugged. “Nobody else came.”

She grabbed his hand like she’d known him forever. “More for us!  Happy Birthday, Kurt.”

 Birthday #8

Kurt took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and carefully blew out the candles. All but the extra one that his parents always put on his cake.

“Aren’t you gonna finish, bud?”

He looked from Daddy over to his mother, home again, but so frail he was sometimes afraid to hug her, worried she might pop like a fragile soap bubble. He offered her the candle. “Here, Mommy. Blow it out. Maybe you’ll get another year to grow on.”

The eyes of the two adults met, then Mommy nodded. The three of them blew out the final candle together.

 Birthday #9

Barely daring to hope, Kurt came down the stairs.  Birthday cakes and presents had been Mommy’s specialty.  Daddy had forgotten his own birthday and had nearly forgotten Christmas.

Kurt gasped when he saw it, waiting, shining and spectacular against the front door.

“A bike!”

Bright green, sissy bars with foil streamers, and a banana seat. Perfect!

Burt smiled. He had scoffed a such a “girly” bike when Kurt spotted it at the toy store. But now, looking at the all-too-rare joy in his son’s eyes and feeling the approving smile his wife would have given, he nodded. It was perfect.

 Birthday #10

Buying gifts was tough when your kid always clammed up on you. A dad had to be observant.

Ten years old. A landmark like that needed something special, but the only thing Kurt seemed into was clothes. He had enough of those for ten kids.  

He’d probably like a Barbie he could change in and out of different outfits, but Burt cringed at the thought.

He did doodle pretty good though. Sure, it was mostly pictures of clothes, but that was a start.

A fancy sketchpad with a case and a hundred different colored pencils. Yeah, that was the ticket.

 Birthday #11

“Dad, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Kurt sighed with exaggerated impatience. He had come home from school to find Dad waiting at the truck, ordering him to get in, then not saying another word. The suspense was killing him.

“Ta-Dahhhh!”

They had pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building. “Columbus Culinary Arts?”

“You like to cook right?  Well, we’re gonna fix your birthday dinner this year with the help of a real chef. Lessons are once a week for the next couple months.”

Gourmet cooking lessons!

“Oh wow. Dad, this is amazing!”

Burt grinned. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

 Birthday #12

Last year’s surprise had gone so well that Burt had decided on a repeat. But when he saw the excitement on Kurt’s face at finding a pair of tickets inside his birthday card turn to disappointment and horror, quickly masked with a fake smile, he knew he’d goofed.

“I know baseball isn’t your thing,” he said, almost pleading. “But you’ve never seen a live game before. It’s a whole different experience. It’s a home game. We can yell and scream, and cheer our team on with thousands of other fans.”

The stiff not-smile never wavered. “Sounds . . . fun.”

 Birthday #13

Dad had bought out one of the partners at the garage this spring and now owned a majority share of the renamed “Hummel Tires & Lube”. Kurt wanted to snicker at that name, but he was proud too.

His birthday this year coincided with Friday Night Dinner. Dad had invited all the mechanics over for a potluck. They’d had Mary’s special fried chicken, Cassius’s homemade cornbread, and Davy’s mac’n’cheese. Now Dad brought out the cake.

Kurt laughed. A sheet-cake with a tow-truck and two little plastic mechanics for decoration.

“You and me kid. Partners.”

The mechanics cheered and everybody dug in.

  Birthday #14

Kurt froze when he saw tickets peeping out of his card. Not again. Noise, sunburn, unhealthy food, tacky uniforms, and Dad trying so hard to make a boring sport seem like fun.

He sighed and pasted on a smile, which quickly transformed into shock.

“Wicked?” he squeaked, staring hard at the little papers as if the printing might change if he dared to look away.

“Embassy Theater is giving regional business owners a discount this year,” Burt said apologetically. “It’s just a traveling production, not real Broadway, but I …”

His apology was cut off by a joyful teenaged hug.

 Birthday #15

“Don’t worry, son, you got this.  Just remember everything I taught you.  You got a whole year to get ready for the practical test.”

“I know.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t get it right the first time. Not everybody does.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re through.”

“I know that, Dad. I’ll be okay, really.”

At that moment, Kurt’s name was called and he sprang from his hard green plastic chair. His dad’s repeated reassurances were making him jumpy.

Twenty minutes later, a brightly grinning Kurt was waving his freshly minted driver’s permit.

 Birthday #16

Burt patted the giant blue bow the dealership had provided over the hood of the shining black Lincoln Navigator.  

Kurt was gonna flip! He’d passed his DMV test with flying colors and was no doubt showing off his shiny new license to all his friends at school.  

He paused. Did Kurt have any friends to share this accomplishment with? He always seemed so alone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to spoil his son with a huge birthday gift.

It wasn’t right for such a good kid to be all alone. Maybe having his own ride would help change that.

  Birthday #17

A dozen teens gathered in Kurt’s basement to celebrate the end-of-school, non-disbanding of Glee, and Kurt’s birthday, all in one.

“Not like ten years ago,” Mercedes said to Kurt, as they watched Mike and Brittany dance.

“Ten years?”

“Your seventh? It was just you, me, your mom, and lots of chocolate cake.”

Kurt was astounded. “That was you?”

“You forgot?”

“I remember a little girl who showed up and invited herself to my party.”

“And I remember a little boy who needed a friend as much as I did.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming.”

She squeezed back. “Always.”

 Birthday #18

Kurt stared at his birthday cake, unable to think of anything to wish for.

He was 18-years-old today, a legal adult. He had new family in Carole and Finn, his dad was on the mend, he would be back at McKinley for senior year, he had made his first visit to New York City, and he had a boyfriend! One who had just told Kurt that he loved him for the very first time.

‘I wish for next year to be as good as this,” he thought, taking a deep breath and blowing.

The flames flickered out, all except one.

 Birthday #19

Senior year had been a disaster, and now he had not gotten into NYADA, despite his well-praised audition.

“Blaine wants me to spend another year here,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

Burt’s callused hand squeezed his neck. “Then don’t. You’re 19 now, a man. You got talents galore, work experience from the garage, enough drive for ten kids, and your mom’s life insurance money to give you a start.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Burt said firmly. “You go on to New York and grab life by the balls.”

Kurt felt his optimism rise. “Help me look for apartments?”

“You got it.”

 Birthday #20

What a difference a year made.

He’d dumped Blaine after being cheated on less than a month after leaving Lima.  He was enrolled at FIT and sharing a shoebox apartment with a fellow design student and a Broadway hopeful, but both were young gay men from small towns, and they had a lot in common.

“Happy Birthday!” Elliott shouted, tossing a handful of glittery sequins at him.

Adam came in playing the birthday song on a kazoo he had gotten from who-knows-where. “Ready for Callbacks? $20 on who gets the first hot guy’s number!”

“I already have yours. I win!”

 Birthday #21

“I have the honor of presenting your first official grown-up drink,” Adam said, smiling lovingly at his grinning boyfriend of nearly a year. He set down a martini glass with a cherry floating on top. “A Manhattan seemed appropriate.”

Kurt beamed and gave him a kiss, then took an experimental sip. “I’ve had alcohol before,” he admitted. “Mostly wine, though.  Mm, this is good!”

“I thought you’d like it. Happy Birthday, my love.  May the future bring every good thing you wish for, and never more heartache than you can handle.”

Kurt could not have asked for a better sentiment.

THE END

[eretzyisrael]

Lama Al-Manar, 36, doesn't remember what she put into the small bag she was carrying when she stepped into a Red Crescent ambulance, other than medical documents. She doesn't remember the last words her husband, who was riding with her, said to her before they separated at the Erez crossing. She doesn't know whether he followed them with his gaze when she walked toward the crossing and passed from the Gaza Strip to Israel, where a Magen David Adom ambulance was waiting for her.

From the moment she left Shifa Hospital that afternoon, until she arrived at Sheba Medical Center at Tel Hashomer some five hours later, Lima's eyes never left the incubator that was holding her son, Abdullah, 2.5 months old, whose tiny body was receiving oxygen.

She also wouldn't have remembered what day it was if they hadn't explained how lucky she had been. It was Monday, May 10, 2021, the day on which Operation Guardian of the Walls against Hamas infrastructure in Gaza began. The ambulance that brought her and her son to Israel was the last allowed through Erez crossing before it was closed for 13 days.

Three children are waiting for her at home. Two years ago, she gave birth to a stillborn child, and when she became pregnant for the fifth time, she was eager for the new baby to bring joy back to the home. But Abdullah was born two months prematurely with a complicated heart defect and Lamaand her husband realized they would need to fight for his life.

"I was afraid. His condition wasn't good," Lama says. "He lost weight, and his breathing and other parameters slowed. I prayed to God to heal him. To fight for his little life. A doctor at Shifa Hospital recommended that we send him to Israel for treatment. My husband reached out to the Shevet Achim organization to help us get him there."

Thursday afternoon, the 11th day of the Gaza campaign. The radio reports a rocket alert in Ashkelon, and then a direct hit on a residential building. We arrive at the parking structure attached to the labor ward at Sheba Medical Center, which is next to the Edmond and Lily Safra Children's Hospital. The children's ICU was transferred here on the fifth day of the fighting for fear of rocket hits.

We go down one floor. After walking through the gray halls lined with oxygen tanks at the ready, we encounter a colorful sign decorated with a drawing of a sun and a kite: "Protected Children's ICU." Reality stays outside. In the parking structure, which was filled with cars the previous week, there are 40 small beds. Each one takes up two parking places, and holds a small baby who is hooked up to medical equipment. Nearby is a treatment station, a computer, and a lounge chair for adults.

The beds are separated by flowered curtains that were hung on the metal pipes that line the parking garage's ceiling. No one closes the curtains. There are also hanging screens that are attached to monitors that fill the space with dim beeping.

In the center of the improvised unit are a dialysis cart and another cart that holds equipment for chest drainage. Sometimes, a baby's cry can be heard. It is weak, and starts and stops quickly.

Over bed No. 26 a sign reads: "Abdullah Al-Manar. Date of birth: Feb. 26, 2021. Weight: 1.6 kg (3.52 pounds)." Lamasits on the chair and watches Shani, the nurse, take off Abdullah's cloth diaper, exposing a large incision that runs from his chest to his belly. Shani changes the dressing, rubs cream on it, puts his medicine into the IV bag attached to his small arm, and covers him gently.

In the next bed lies three-month-old Rana, who is recovering from her third open heart surgery, which she underwent two days earlier. On the left is Yazen, a month old, who had a catheterization.

Dr. Evyatar Hubara, 43, a senior doctor on the unit, moves from bed to bed. He slept three hours the night before due to the number of cases.

"The three children from Gaza suffer from complicated heart defects," Hubara explains. "They came to us in serious condition, among other reasons because it took time from when the problem was diagnosed in Gaza until their transfer to us could be coordinated, all the permits received, and that's without changing ambulances at Erez and the bumpy journey. Right now, all three are in an acute stage. We still haven't gotten to the rehabilitation state, which will begin here and continue in Gaza," he says.

Hubara stops by Abdullah's bed and looks at him warmly. "Abdullah was born prematurely and was incorrectly diagnosed in Gaza. The doctors … performed the wrong operation on him when he was two months old. A week after the operation, he began to decline, and a week after that he reached us. In the first few hours we needed to stabilize him and keep his blood pressure steady with medication.

"We started to look into the problem. We did an MRI and other tests. Before every stage, we explained to his mother what we were going to do. She trusted us from the beginning. After we stabilized him, we found that the true defect he was suffering from was an aortic valve stenosis. It turned out that in Gaza they had tried to close the ductus, but closed one of the main arteries by mistake.

"In the insane Israeli reality, we had to protect ourselves against rockets from Gaza along with the babies who come from here," he says.

"I remember one siren that caught me on the unit, before we moved to the parking structure. All the mothers, Jewish and Arab, just grabbed their babies – the ones that weren't hooked up to machines – and ran to a safe space. I shouted, 'We have time, 90 seconds, go slowly so you won't fall with the kids.' Everyone gathered around in the safe space. Staff members and patients, Jews and Arabs together. The shocking sight of the mothers who ran there with their babies doesn't leave me," Hubara recalls. Not all the mothers were able to take their babies to a safe space. Abdullah, Rana, and Yazen, as well as another 12 Israeli babies, are on respiratory equipment, and they were unprotected during the first rocket alerts. This is why the hospital administration decided to move the entire department from the sixth floor to the underground parking garage. Here, the sirens can't even be heard.

We go with Lama, Raida, and Samira into the staff room, located at the exit. The room has a big refrigerator full of popsicles donated to the children and the staff who care for them. Every few minutes, a parent or a staff member comes in and takes one.

About a year ago, when the COVID pandemic was still raging in Israel, a COVID unit opened in this same parking structure to ease the mass of patients that was overwhelming the hospitals. That event seems like ancient history, and the only thing that remains of it are the letters of thanks stuck to the door. It seems as if this is the last place in the country where people are careful to wear masks, and wear them properly.

The three Gaza women are embarrassed. They aren't used to being interviewed. All three are wearing abayas, long dresses that include head coverings, as well as hijabs and surgical masks. Since they arrived in Israel, they have been sleeping here, on the unit, in the recliner chairs next to their children's beds. They are also given meals. Once every few days, they allow themselves to go upstairs and shower. None of them speaks any language other than Arabic, with the exception of a few words of Hebrew or English. Moshe Ravid, 26, a nursing student from Jaffa and a volunteer with the Shevet Achim organization, translates.

Raida (Umm Ahmad), 48, is from Khan Younis. She is Rana's grandmother, a housewife and mother of six.

"My daughter-in-law, Rana's mother, came to Israel with her in February, two weeks after she was born," she says. "After two weeks, she was tired and not feeling well. Because she has a four-year-old at home, she called me and asked me to switch with her. She went back to Gaza, and since then, I've been here. Three months already. This is my first time in Israel."

Q: Were you afraid?

"No, why should I be afraid? My husband worked in Bat Yam for 20 years. Every day, he went from Gaza to Bat Yam, until the disengagement in 2005. After that, he found work in Gaza. He told me that there are good people in Israel, that everyone here is all right."

Abdullah's mother Lama, 36, is wearing a brown abaya accessorized with a shining silver star. Her smartphone has a pink cover. She works in a laboratory, and her husband is a producer for Palestinian television in Gaza. She has two other sons, 11 and six, at home, as well as a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

"My mother had cancer. She went to Israel to be treated, and recovered," Lama says. "She told me that everything is good here. When Abdullah's condition got worse, the doctor recommended that we come to Israel. My husband reached out to Shevet Achim. Now he and my mother are watching the three other kids at home."

Q: What do you tell your families about what is happening here?

Lama: "They're afraid for us, and we're afraid for them. When they call to hear how we are, I answer, 'Al Hamdullah,' so they won't be scared and worry, and when I call to ask how they are, they say the same thing. We talk about the boy, how he ate, how much he ate, how much he slept. "I tell them that the doctors here are good, that they treat us well, answer all our questions. I tell them that the food is excellent, that the women have nice clothes, about their hairstyles. I like the fashion in Israel, and the grilled chicken breast and salad they serve at the hospital."

Raida: "The medical staff thinks only about the children – whether their condition has improved, what they ate, how they slept. We sit next to their beds, don't know how they'll be from one moment to the next, whether they'll get better at all."

Q: Do they send you pictures of the strikes on Gaza?

"They send me pictures of the special Ramadan sweets," Raida answers, with a smile.

Samira, 62, is the grandmother of Yazen, who is only a month old. "I have nine grown children, and my son has four children other than Yazen. Their mother needs to take care of them, so they asked me to accompany the child. At home, when we talk about Israel, we only talk about the medical treatment we want to get here."

Moshe, the translator, tells them in Arabic not to be frightened, that they can speak freely. They all answer at once: "We aren't afraid, we're speaking honestly. Everyone wants peace. We want it to be all right."

Samira: "Inshallah, things will calm down. We aren't dealing with politics."

Q: What did you do when people in Gaza fired rockets toward this area?

Raida: "What everyone else did. The nurses took us to a safe place. The babies stayed on the unit, hooked up to respirators. I was worried about them, that they were alone, but everyone calmed us down, said that it would all be fine."

Lama: "We tried to talk to the other people in the safe area, without understanding one another. Everyone wants to know how the other's child is doing. He's sorry about my son, and I'm sorry about his."

Q: Did your families leave their homes because of the airstrikes?

Raida: "No. Everyone is in his own home."

Q: Are any of your family members involved in the fighting?

All three shake their heads, no. "Not everyone in Gaza enlists in the army," Raida says. "My husband worked in Israel. Half of Gaza used to work in Israel. You must have seen the workers who would come from Gaza."

Samira: "My father and my husband used to work in Israel."

Q: When are you going home?

Raida's eyes fill with tears. "Rana's chest is still open from the last surgery. I'm sitting with you and laughing, but my heart is crying. So I'm telling you that my every thought is for the baby. That's our situation."

Lama: "Today, Dr. Evytar said that Abdullah has an infection in his right lung, which was good. Until now he had one in his left lung. I hope it works out. I'll go back to Gaza when he gets better, but I don't know when."

Hospital Director Dr. Itai Pessach says that every year, the center treats about 500 children from Gaza and another 2,700 children from the Palestinian Authority. "They range in age from a week to 18. Some of the children arrive through the Shevet Achim organization, and others through our own coordinator."

"During the last military operation, our doctor colleagues in Gaza reached out to us about children in serious condition, and we fought to bring them to Israel during the operation. Unfortunately, we didn't succeed, and that's very sad. I'm happy we're getting back to normal," Pessach says.

According to Pessach, "we don't see any difference between a child who comes from Gaza, Nablus, or Tiberias. Our treatment looks at all the child's needs, including emotional needs and school work at the school that operates on the hospital grounds. A year ago, a nine-year-old boy with cancer arrived from Gaza who didn't know how to read and write. He returned to Gaza last month, after a year-long hospitalization, healthy and knowing how to read and write in Hebrew, Arabic, and even English."

Q: How did the patients respond to this during the Gaza fighting?

"A family from Gaza arrived two days before the operation started, and we diagnosed their son with a rare disease, one that only seven children in Israel have. By chance, two rooms away there was a Haredi family with a child who had been diagnosed with the same disease two months ago. While the rockets were falling, the Haredi mother insisted on meeting the mother from Gaza and teaching her everything she knew about the disease and how to treat it."

"There is a truly shared fate here. They feel that they're fighting against something bigger than rockets. To get better, a patient needs to feel secure, and that's what we're doing. A hospital is a home for all the patients.

"I'm happy to say that the external tensions didn't creep into the work. There was no tension between the staff and the patients. The good of the patient always comes before everything else. Even at administration meetings – everyone put aside their own political views and we managed to provide a quality medical response and protect the safety of the staff and patients," Pessach says.

The funding for the Gaza children's treatment comes mainly from donors – mostly American Christians, and some Israelis.

"Saving the life of the child is an entire world," says Jonathan Miles, founder of Shevet Achim. Miles arrive in Israel from the US in the 1990s, as a journalist, and started to volunteer with the group Christian Friends of Israel.

"We welcomed Russian immigrants to Israel. We wanted them to understand that the Jewish people have friends in the world. One day a mother from Ukraine whose child's life was in danger came to me. She had no money for medical treatment, and she begged me to help. I started raising money to help him. Wizo helped a lot, as did other people, both Jews and Christians.

"After that, I heard about sick babies in Gaza, and in 1994 I founded the organization. We bring children from Muslim states to Israel for treatment."

Amar Shami, 32, who coordinates the transfer of children from Gaza to Israel for Shevet Achim, lives in Jerusalem.

"The families who go back to Gaza tell each other about the treatment in Israel," he says. "One mother tells another. When the child has a problem, they reach out to me. Sometimes the doctors reach out directly." Q: What goes through your mind while you're busy providing treatment and rockets are flying outside?

"Inside the hospital, we detach. We only want to help them. When you go out you realize that reality is different. We hope that when the families from Gaza go home, they will sort of be our emissaries, say good things about Israel."

The night that the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect, Rana's heart stopped beating, despite the doctors' best efforts. Her grandmother, Raida, left the hospital weeping. She was driven to a Shevet Achim apartment in Jaffa. When Erez crossing opened, she returned to Gaza with Rana's coffin.

[oliviajames1122]

WHAT TO DO IF MY MOT EXPIRED?

Has your MOT Expired? Is there an MOT grace period?

All vehicle owners should be aware that in order to drive on public roads, a vehicle must be roadworthy. As a result, all vehicles older than three years must pass an annual Check mot history. It is exceedingly risky to drive a car that is not roadworthy for you, your passengers, and other road users.

Nobody can neglect their MOT without consequences, whether we like it or not. And, contrary to popular belief, a lapsed certificate does not have a "two-week grace period." Unless you can establish that you are driving to an examination centre, you may be penalized if you are caught driving without a valid MOT.

HOW DOES AN MOT WORK?

The MOT is used to guarantee that automobiles fulfill the legal minimum safety requirements. The primary purpose is to inspect vehicle safety and roadworthiness, with a focus on brakes and emissions. An MOT is required whenever a vehicle reaches the age of three years, and then every year after that. You can check your MOT history to ensure that when its next MOT is due.

Technicians will perform an inspection and a detailed set of tests around and within the vehicle during the test. This encompasses the vehicle's interior, exterior, under the hood, and underneath. You will either receive a Pass or a Fail with the associated certificate once the test is done. You will earn a VT20 MOT certificate if you are one of the 60% who pass each year.

Remember that the MOT test is merely a visual inspection, and examiners are not permitted to make any alterations or repairs, which is why you must schedule a service. One month before the due date is the earliest you can renew your check mot status. You can get a certificate that is good for 13 months if you plan beforehand. Sign up for Elite Garages' free MOT reminder service for complete peace of mind.

MOT RULES AND REGULATIONS

While many people are completely unaware of all the restrictions, it is critical to grasp the ramifications of failing to renew yours. Here's a brief overview of the essential information:

·       Only if you've scheduled a test and are on your way to the centre can you drive with an expired certificate.

·       In some cases, you may be required to show documentation of your appointment.

·       You can only drive your car if your previous certificate is still valid if you fail a test. When the test was conducted earlier than last year, this was doable.

·       Regardless of the previous rule, you may not drive your car if the report shows that it is not roadworthy.

·       MOT tests can be done at any point during the 12-month period as long as they are completed before the current one expires.

·       If you perform the required repair work and schedule the second test within 10 working days after the first, re-testing is free.

Tractors, electric goods vehicles, cars 3 years or newer, and cars and motorcycles produced before 1960 are the only vehicles free from VAT laws. If your certificate is invalid and you have an accident, your insurance coverage may be voided, leaving you with a large repair price.

FREE MOT REMINDER SERVICE FROM CAR services IN READING

It’s often very easy to forget calendar reminders especially those that only happen once a year. In the case of an MOT, you really shouldn’t put it off for another day. Remember, your local centre does not have to remind you of your test date so make sure you mark it in your diary.

Is there a grace period for MOTs? No, therefore if your MOT is due to expire; book an appointment with Car garages in reading. We offer dealership-quality services at a lower rate with no hidden fees. Our services include car servicing for all makes and models, as well as tires, batteries, and other items.

[sinsforjeon]

Let me make it up to you |Kim Namjoon|

[hi babies! I hope you like this:”) anyways my final exams are beginning tomorrow so I’ll be a bit absent and I’ve seen the request so I’ll do those whenever I have time so send them in! Also thank you guys for over 2k i love every single one of you THANK YOU💕💕]

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

He walked with confidence as if nothing could ever touch him but to be honest with all those guards around him that would be impossible.

Kim Namjoon. Even his name held some kind of power, his presence alone brought shivers down your spine.

Gulping quietly you knocked on his door, his guards keeping an intense look on you as you tried not to piss yourself on the spot.

You had been working for the man for about two weeks now and you were still not used to the stoic eyes of his guards.

A clear voice replied, granting you permission to enter. With a final bow to his guards you entered his office.

His office was huge, too big for even the two of you. Namjoon placed you in his office, right next to his desk and his reasoning was that if he needed anything you’d be closer.

“Sir? Your l-“

“You’re late, Miss Y/L/N”

You almost choked at his words as you looked at him with wide eyes. He didn’t pay you any attention only furiously typing on his laptop.

“L-Late? Sir I-“

“You know I hate tardiness.”

He couldn’t be serious, he was the one who sent you to go get him lunch and not to mention that it was at one of the busiest restaurants in the area.

“Mr Kim, I apologize but there was a line and I had to wait.”

You regretted your words the minute he looked up from his laptop, it was very rare that Kim Namjoon would give his undivided attention.

He took off his glasses, watching you with frustration swimming in his eyes. You felt like he was scrutinizing you, almost challenging you to say more.

You quickly looked away from his intense gaze as you began to apologize profusely. Though you’ve never expressed it out loud, the man scared you.

“Did you get anything for yourself?” He asked, cutting your apologies halfway as he beckoned you closer with his hand.

“N-No, Sir, I figured that would take too long.” You breathed out as you set the brown paper bag on his stainless table.

“So you expect me to eat while you sit there and watch?”

“Yes?”

He watched you for what felt like minutes but was only a couple of seconds before beckoning you over to his desk, you obeyed with no hesitation.

“Sit.” It wasn’t a question or a request but an order. You slowly lowered yourself on the chair that sat across him.

“Do you need anything else, sir?”

You asked and he shook his head, opening his container of food.

You’ve never felt as awkward as you felt in that moment, uncomfortably shifting on the chair as you looked around the room.

“Eat.”

“Pardon?”

“Did I stutter?”

You looked at him with wide eyes as you tried to process his words, why would he give you his food?

“But Mr Kim that’s yours-“

“Ms Y/L/N, you need this more than I do, I’m not the one running around the whole day.”

You gulped as he pushed the expensive food over to you.

“Go on. Eat.”

You quietly thanked him as you slowly nibbled on the food, suddenly feeling shy at the eyes on you.

“Do you- Would you like to share?”

You asked still looking down at the food. A couple of seconds passed and he didn’t answer, you felt yourself cringing slightly wishing you could take your words back.

“I’m- I meant-“

“Sure.”

To say you were surprised was an understatement, you thought he would laugh at you and carry on with his job but instead he went around, sitting on the chair next to yours as he took out the extra utensils they threw in the bag.

Sitting down next to Kim Namjoon didn’t feel right. Sure you walked with him at times but he was always two steps ahead of you as you trudged after him.

You hadn’t realized that you were staring at him, completely ignoring the food in front of you.

“Something wrong with the food, Y/N?”

“Mhm? Oh! N-No, sorry- I apologize Mr Kim, I tend to zone out at times.”

He hummed as he ate. You found your eyes following his hands, he had pretty hand, clean and well kept after all he was Kim Namjoon.

And his lips, my god his lips were so full and plush looking. Did this man have any flaws-

“Staring is rude, Ms Y/L/N.”

Fuck. You’ve never wished to be swallowed by the earth but that sounded great right now. You made a sound at the back of your throat, apologizing softly as you looked down at the food.

It was quiet for a while and Namjoon had stopped eating but you were too mortified to look up and see what the problem was. You could feel his eyes on you, causing a slightly shiver to climb up your spine.

“Did something interest you?”

“Pardon?”

“You were staring, no?”

You nodded and he tilted his head slightly.

“What did you find that was so interesting?”

How were you supposed to answer that? How were you supposed to tell him that you were distracted by his lips. He would fire you for sure.

“Oh- Well, t-the thing is-“

“A little faster, Ms Y/L/N, I’m a busy man.”

You gulped as you placed your chopsticks on the napkin he had handed you earlier as you tried to rake your brain for an excuse.

“I-I- Wow! Won’t you look at that? It’s time for me to go get your clothes that you ordered- thank you for lunch, Mr Kim, gotta go!”

You spoke hurriedly as you stood up, bowing before zooming out of his office. You were panting by the time you were out, his guards giving you an odd look as you quickly bowed before leaving just as fast as you were before.

You cursed quietly, the man was definitely going to fire you. You had broken a rule, never leave the office without being dismissed but you had left anyways.

You whined loudly as you stepped out of the building. Technically you didn’t lie, you had about 30 minutes before you were supposed to fetch his clothes anyways so you could walk there instead of taking the driver he always sent.

Your walk went quicker than you thought, but you had arrived on time and by the time you were exiting the shop, his personal driver was waiting for you. Sighing loudly you got in as the car made its way back to the one place you didn’t wish to go back to.

You stared at the door with a small pout on your face, being a people’s pleaser, you hated when someone showed any signs of disappointment or disapproval towards you.

One of the guards cleared their throat, reminding you that you had been standing there for a little bit too long. You gave them a tired smile and a dejected bow before you knocked on the door, to which he permitted.

Not once did you look up as you entered his office but the sudden halting of the harsh buttons told you he was looking at you.

With a deep breath you looked up, flinching slightly at the hard look he gave.

“M-Mr Kim, I would like to apologize for leaving so abruptly earlier on-“

You trailed off, fingers playing with each other nervously as you bit your lip guiltily. He probably had hired another assistant, one who was better than you.

“You need to stop apologizing before the word starts to lose its meaning, it’s getting tiring.”

You couldn’t help but to pout at his words, your heart sinking down to the pit of your stomach as you felt your mood dropping by the second.

“I’m so-“

You cut yourself as you quickly looked down, trying to blink away the tears that had started to fill your eyes.

“The little stunt you pulled earlier on wasn’t appreciated, your telephone was ringing nonstop and I had to answer for you, what am I paying you for, Ms Y/L/N?”

“Sir-“

“Let this be your first and last warning. Get back to work.”

You felt horrible, you were new at this maybe that’s why he was so harsh on you. But still his words did hurt.

You hurriedly sat down on your desk, a lone tear rolling down your cheek before you quickly wiped it away.

From the next day onwards you made sure to stay clear of Namjoon’s way unless he needed you for something, which was more often than you would’ve liked. During lunch, you’d deliver his food and excuse yourself into the building’s cafeteria where you quietly sipped away at your favorite beverage.

You made sure that you didn’t steal any looks at him, always keeping your focus down on your work.

The sudden change didn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon, maybe he was a bit harsh but what you were doing was way worse. Though he’d never admit it, Kim Namjoon enjoyed your company but now that you were avoiding him as if he was the plague, he felt quite lonely.

He heard your signature knock, two soft knocks and he felt himself lightening up as he called you in, his voice as cool as he could get it without sounding too enthusiastic.

You bowed respectfully before placing his lunch on his desk, your eyes never sparing him a glance as you excused yourself softly, your voice barely audible.

Technically he wasn’t allowed to stop you, it was lunch after all but he knew how obedient you were and so he took a chance.

“Ms Y/L/N?” He called out the second your hand touched his door knob and you felt your heart start to race.

“Yes, sir?” You whispered out, still facing the door. He didn’t answer and you realized that he was waiting for you to face him and you did so quickly.

“Sit.”

“Sir-“

“Ms Y/L/N...” he trailed off, the tone in his voice suggesting you not try to argue with and so with a deep breath you found yourself seated across him.

He pushed the food towards just like he had the last time as he came around his table to sit next to you.

“Eat.”

He whispered and you gulped, looking up, finding him closer than you had expected.

You looked away, nodding a bit too enthusiastic for your liking but you didn’t care at the moment. You trained your eyes on the meal as you slowly ate.

“Relax, Y/N, I’m not that bad.” He chuckled softly, using your first name and you let out a nervous chuckle in return as you tried to loosen your tense shoulders.

Namjoon was known for his patience, he was cool and calm but of course sometimes even the calmest of them all get tested. That’s how he felt, patience quickly running thin as you continued to shut him out.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d think I make you nervous.” He hummed, you could hear the smirk on his voice.

You looked up, wide eyed, the lazy smirk on his face growing wider at the attention he had longed for.

“Huh?”

“Do I make you nervous, Y/N?”

He was too close, you found yourself begin to grow clammy and fidgety in your sit as you tried to break the eye contact but you couldn’t seem to.

“N-No?”

“No? Are you sure, Miss Y/L/N? You seem a little... tense?”

He knew the effect he had on you and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy making you fidget under his gaze. A true sadist indeed.

“Oh- Oh! N-No I just- ‘m just tired.” You choked out as you pushed the plate away, if you didn’t leave now you’d make a fool of yourself. You quickly made up an excuse as you began to stand up.

“Mr Kim, if you’d excuse me I-“

“Sit down, Y/N.”

“B-But-“

The look he gave you told you that it wasn’t up for debate. You whimpered quietly as you tried to convince him again.

“Sir, I r-really need to- oof!”

Holy fuck- you were sat on Kim Namjoon’s lap. He smelled good, the realization finally set in that you were seated on your boss’s lap. You froze.

“Hey- calm down, Princess.”

You squeaked at the pet name as you tried to keep your mind clear of any thoughts. His chest was firm against your back, his arms secured around your waist as he kept you up against him.

“Now, how about you tell me why you’ve been running away from me, hm?”

Did he actually expect you to have a conversation with him while he sat you on his lap? You almost couldn’t breathe, let alone talk.

“Run-Running away?”

“Should I repeat myself?”

You quickly shook your head as you looked down in the hands that had been haunting your dreams for the last few weeks.

“Then maybe you should give me an answer, yes?”

You whimpered quietly as you shifted on his lap, still shaken at the position you found yourself in.

“Ms Y/L/N, are you going to talk or am I going to have to make you?”

You swear to god his voice somewhat got deeper and you couldn’t help but to react as a sigh escaped your lips.

He chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against your back slightly as you felt one of his hands move up to your hair.

“Sweetheart, if you want me to stop, tell me now.” He spoke, voice soft and feathery and you only made yourself comfortable on his lap.

He was satisfied with your reply, for now at least.

He ran his hand through your hair gently, finger nails lightly scratching against your scalp and you melted against him.

“There you go, relax.” He hummed in your ear, the slight rasp in his voice making you shiver slightly.

You were so engrossed in the feeling of his hand in your hair that you hadn’t noticed when the other one trailed down your thigh.

You were wearing a basic pencil skirt, one that wasn’t so tight on you which made it easier for him to gain access to your skin. Soft fingers traced against your inner thighs, causing your legs to open involuntarily.

“Good girl.” He praised, his hand only moving higher before resting on the band of your panties.

You were panting, chest falling and rising as you felt yourself get needy by the second. It had been a while since anyone had touched you like this or at all basically.

“I’ll ask one more time, why did you run away from me?” He asked and you whined, wanting him to continue but he had halted all of his movements.

“You were mean to me.”

“Is that so? I apologize, sweetheart.”

“Oh- No! I-It’s ok, it was my fault anyways.”

Your words came out soft as you felt yourself become dejected again. Namjoon could tell you were beating yourself up, he didn’t really think you had taken his words that hard.

“Oh Princess, don’t look so sad, hm? I’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. What did he mean? You had a lot of questions but you just nodded.

“Words, Y/N. Use your words.”

“Yes sir.”

He groaned at your reply before pushing your panties aside, causing you to gasp at the cool air on you.

He didn’t beat around the bush as he began to draw figure 8’s on your clit, the unexpected touch making you jump slightly to which he held you still with his other hand.

“You have to be quiet, Ms Y/L/N,” he whispered in your ear when you let out a loud moan, “we have guests outside or have you forgotten?”

You shook your head as you panted looking down at the hand between your legs.

“Then you’ll be good for me, won’t you? Gonna be quiet for me, yes?”

“Y-Yes Sir.”

He smiled against your cheek as he continued to abuse your sensitive bundle of nerves. Keeping quiet was harder than you thought which is why you brought your hand up to your mouth to muffle the sounds that threatened to escape.

“Will you forgive me, sweetheart?”

You only whined as you bucked your hips up to his hand.

“Gonna forgive me after I make you cum nice and hard right?”

“Mhm-fuck-“ You whispered which was followed by a loud gasp as you felt the the familiar tingles shoot through your vein when you were about to fall over the edge.

“Oh? Are you gonna cum, Ms Y/L/N?” He cooed and you nodded to which he tsked quietly.

“Without my permission?” He asked but still his pace remained unforgivable.

“Mr Kim? Can I- ohgod can I p-please cum?”

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

You don’t remember what happened next all you recall was a bunch of muffled moans filling up the room as you dirtied your boss’s hand and lap.

“There you are, are you ok?” He mumbled as he pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek to which you smiled lazily.

“Mhm, just really tired.” You felt sleepy which was not unusual, you were always out after an orgasm.

Namjoon chuckled softly as placed your panties back in place as well as your skirt, you took this as a sign to move off of his lap which was not a good idea due to the jelly feeling on your legs.

“That good?” He asked as he held you up by your waist and you blushed furiously as you smoothed down your hair.

“Tell you what, you can cancel all my appointments for the day so I can take you to my bed and make it up to you properly, deal?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes but nodded nonetheless as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

For someone who acted so intimidating, he sure was soft.

[mando-abs]

Alright, let me just rant on here for a second. Feel free to ignore.

*ahem*

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME IVE HAD MY EXPIRED DRIVER’S PERMIT THAT I CANT RENEW IT LIKE I HAVE BEFORE BC “it’s too expired, now you must take the test you took when you were like idk 16”

HAVE ME TAKE THE TEST AGAIN, HAVE ME WAIT FOR MY RESULTS WHILE YOU TALK ABOUT SOME GUY, ONLY TO TELL ME “sorry sweetie, you missed too many this time. Come back in a week. Pay us two dollars”

NOT EVEN TELL ME HOW MUCH I MISSED OR WHAT I MISSED!

Sigh….I went in with the same level of confidence as last time (which is zero lol), but this time I failed…as an adult ☹️. If I had gotten my act together and gotten over my fear of driving earlier, none of this would have happened. And now it’s going to take 3 more summer weeks (that is, if I pass it the next time) to even think about making an appointment for my actual license, which is what I came to do today

[write-like-you-mean-it]

Small Frames Leave Big Shadows: Haikyuu Coffee Shop AU

“We’re closing in ten,” called Carrie from the back. The shop had been slower than any other day this week. Carrie, my boss, had sent all the high school students home early while keeping me and another closer on. Her announcement was directed at the staff but it’s intended audience was the customers still littered around the coffee shop. 

My eyes roll as I turn to make drinks for the few high school students staying later to finish a group project due tomorrow. “Eichi, you should know to do your work earlier. Coach Sugawara isn’t going to be lenient on you.” I pass the handmade drink to the taller high schooler. He’s been a regular since his 1st year in high school. 

“I know, Miss,” he says. “He lectures me as much as my dad.” He smiles the same beaming, white grin that I see almost every day. “We’ll be out soon. We’re almost done studying. Who knew English was so difficult.”

“Good luck on your test tomorrow.” I called to the teen but he was too busy walking back to his friends. He sent a small wave my way while fixing the obnoxiously swoopy hair. 

I go back to making the cold brews and lattes for the evening. Usually, I would be watching the clock for the official closing time; however, Carrie must’ve scared off the rest of the people as the building slowly became a ghost town. 

My hands work towards cleaning the used cups and putting away any remaining coffee beans. I felt a large hand on my head as Carrie nugged through my hair. “I’ll let Sato be the official closer for tonight. You’ve been putting in a lot of hours.”

“Thank you,” I sigh. Even during less-than-busy days, my feet ache with blisters from all the walking and my knees grew tired. I finish up with the small amount of washing to turn and see my boss in her tall frame. She has on a puffy winter coat since the January winter was hitting hard this year. “I’ll lock up so that he doesn’t have to.”

“Good girl,” says my boss while placing the keys in my hand. I was the opener tomorrow so the keys would be returned within a few hours. “I’m going to head out.”

“See you tomorrow,” I say while going into the dining area to pick up any spare cups left by trash cans or tables. Once I’d gathered the few cups and returned back behind the bar, the time had finally hit for close. 

Placing the mugs and cups into the sink, I washed each one delicately. “You really should lock the door before more people arrive,” said the other closer. He was a grumpy, middle-aged man whose love for coffee outweighed his dislike for people. 

I nod my head while grabbing my coat. Even though the door will only be open for a second, it still is freezing cold. I walk out into the brisk late night air. The sun set long ago and left the moon in its wake. My fingers fumble with the keys due to the bitter wind. 

“Wait!” called a younger voice. My gaze turns to see a person running towards the door. He was not dressed for the weather outside. He wore a volleyball jersey and some sweatpants. His bright orange hair lit up the bland outside. I couldn’t help but watch as he finally caught up the door. “Did I make it in time?”

“Well, I was about to lock the door,” I mumble. The man was panting as if he had sprinted the full way from the stadium. He hobbled over while holding his knees as a support. After I spoke, his eyes turned up to meet mine. It was the same eyes that would always come in later in the day. Normally, I can tell who it is by the neon hair; however, a lot of people have taken to the trend of dying theirs to match their favorite player. 

“Shit,” he shouted. “The game ran late. Astumu told me that I’d never make it on time. Please. I’ll pay you extra. I need this to do better in my games.” His fist was balled up in excitement as he stood tall, well, as tall as he could stand. 

“You’re Hinata right?” I say. “The decoy I’ve been hearing so much about.” His wide eyes grew at the thought of someone else knowing his name. 

“Yes!” he shouts. The addrenallen must’ve ran out due to the man shivering in the cold. My eyes flicker back and forth between the open door and the volleyball blocker. 

“Fine,” I say while putting my keys into the door. “I’ll let you this one time but you have to take it to go. I wouldn’t want you freezing all this way to return empty handed. 

As I walked back into the shop, I tried to not look at the glarning anger sent my way from my co-worker. “I promise I’ll be fast.” I don't know if the shorty’s comment was towards me or towards my counterpart. I took over the till as Sato went to mop the floors. 

“Can I have a cappuccino to go with some hazelnut please?” 

“Okay. What size?”

“The biggest size you have,” he says. All of his words were said with an excitement that left a full smile on my face even after a long day of work. 

He hands me his card. I finish the transaction before quickly making his drink. Sato and Carrie would not be happy with the service I was providing. I was lucky that my coworker had yet to count the money in the til. 

The smell of filter espresso permitted the room. “So, Hinata,” I say. “What made you run all this way for coffee? There is a shop a little closer to your arena.”

Hinata puts his hands together as if to warm the blue-tinted fingertips. “Oh. I have always come here since the games started. Bokuto says it's my ritual. The one time I went to the other coffee shop, we lost that game. All my teammates tell me that I have to come here or we’ll lose.”

My hands absentmindedly pour the espresso into the drink. “So we’re your good luck charm?” 

“Actually, I thought you were.” My eyes shoot up from the cup in front of me. He continued, “You’re always here when I am. Either you work too many hours or you’re good luck. I tried going this morning before practice but you weren’t here.” 

I placed the lid on his coffee before turning to see the orange-haired man had a slight blush on his face. “Well, here’s your drink.” I pass the hot liquid over until our hands touch. 

“Thanks.” His voice held a stutter that wasn’t there before. “I really appreciate you staying later to make this for me.”

“No problem,” I say. His small frame turns towards the door. I follow him with my eyes while wondering what to say to keep the conversation going. 

“Uhm, Hinata?” I call. My voice spoke before my mind processed the words. His hair flopped as he turned to look at me. “I have a few closing things that need to get done. You’ll get too cold if you continue to walk outside in this weather. Let me walk you at least to my bus stop.”

His smile sparkled more than the shimmering moon. “Thank you.” His grace was given at the cost of the smile. “I forgot to grab a jacket when I left.”

“I might have one that’s in the lost and found. Let me check.” I quickly walked to the back room before Hinata had a moment to reply. Even I could feel the warmth beneath my cheeks. 

I finish up the small tasks behind the scenes. I praised any higher being that Carrie let me go home earlier rather than staying the extra hour to close. Sato, although being grumpy, was an extremely hard worker. 

“Sato,” I say while picking up a large coat that won’t fit the tangerine’s frame. “I’m going to head out. See you in a few days.”

The man gruffed out a goodbye as we walked out the door. “So, why did you want to walk me to your stop?” he asks. His form seemed much smaller in the large coat. Tufts of hair were messed up from the collar. 

“Oh.” It was my turn to stutter. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t running with the drink.” Lie. “You could spill it.” Another lie. “I like taking care of my customers.” While that wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t the reason I followed him. 

My mention of his drink made the man take a sip. “I should be the one walking you. After all, I am the man.” He puffed out his chest which only looked silly in the already puffed out leather. 

A chuckle passed my lips. “What’s so funny?” he continues.

“It’s just-” I pause to take a breath between my laughter. “-I’m not sure. It may be that the coat’s too big for you. Sorry. It was the only thing that was left.”

He looks down to see that the jacket was almost past his knees in length. He shrugs his shoulders before taking another sip of coffee. “It’s alright. I’ve always had to live in massive shadows. What’s one helpful coat more.”

Hinata’s face turned to look at me once again. The smile from before was replaced by a serious look. “Hey this might be too forward but I don’t have a game tomorrow night. Would you like to go to dinner or something. I have to replace your kindness somehow.”

My footsteps were caught on the uneven gravel. I stumbled but didn’t fall. The blocker’s movements were instinctive to catch me even though it was a stumble. “Sorry, sorry,” I apologize quickly. “You caught me off guard.”

I look back to see his worried face scrunched into a question. “Is that a no?”

“Oh, no, no. I would love to go to dinner with you.” Hinata gave a sigh of relief. “Here. Put your number in my phone and I’ll text you later.”

I reached into my pocket to find my simple phone and give it to the man. He inputs his number before handing it back. We continue our walk for a few more steps before we end up at the bus stop. 

“Thank you for walking me,” he says. “I look forward to that text later. My teams won’t believe that I get to go on a date tomorrow. Especially with you.” 

“Good night Hinata,” I say while the 9:30 bus pulls up to the stop. The orange haired man waves goodbye to me with his empty hand. 

As I take a seat on the bus, I find Hinata’s number and send a quick text to him; hopeful that he may reply soon.

[a-day-in-the-afterlife]

The Night Team Is Bad At Road Trips (Oneshot) (Fanfiction)

You can read it here on AO3.  I know that there's no "Hour 4" section. It's because I was too lazy to write it, and I figured the early hours when Nine drove, it was so peaceful that nothing interesting happened!

Title:

The Night Team Is Bad At Road Trips

Summary:

When the 14th Department Annual Retreat rolls around, the Manager, Nyang Lead Manager, and Sei Housemaster decide to turn the eight-hour drive to the retreat location into a road trip competition to encourage all Soul Reapers' attendance. The prize? No cleaning duties for a month.

And there is no way Nine is letting any of the other teams get even a glimpse at a prize that wonderous.

As the Night Team travels to the retreat location, he begins to realize ... maybe he is the only one is his team with a braincell.

Then again, maybe not.

Just some Noctu bonding.

Genre:

Slice of Life, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Humor

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6574

-

Hour 0

Our story begins inside the Noctu Team Dorm, in the bedroom of Nine and Day, where the human puppy of the two Soul Reapers ransacked the room in search of the last few belongings that he needed to pack for him and his team’s trip to the Purification Plains for the 14th Department Annual Retreat. 

The 14th Department Annual Retreat was a favorite of Nyang Lead Manager’s, as the destination point—the Purification Plains—was a place where all Soul Reapers could rest and relax and take time to remind themselves of the true meaning of Purifying vengeful spirits (of course, many suspected that the lake brimming with fish was actually the real allure for the fussy feline).  

He, Sei Housemaster, and the Manager had already gone ahead two days earlier to get things set up for the rest of the 14th Department, and, to encourage the Soul Reapers to attend the retreat as soon as possible, had set up the days prior to the actual event as a competition to see which Reaper Team could travel the eight hours to the Purification Plains the fastest.  The winning team was exempt from all Soul Reaper cleaning duties for an entire month. 

And oh, how Nine craved that one month of complete freedom.

Yet, he could feel a muscle in his left eye twitch, as he watched his roommate (who had decided that five minutes before their departure was the most opportune time to pack) scramble around the room for his remaining shirts and pants and hair ties and candy and snacks and pretty rocks and shiny beetles and mini elephant figurines and all manner of fidget toys to play with.  

Noctu was, by some stroke of misfortune, the last team to leave for the day (even Mane—who had Jamie, the supposed slowest Soul Reaper in all of existence—had left before them), and Nine could slowly feel his grip on the prospect of a month free from all cleaning duties slip away.

Day’s side of the room had always been a mess, and Nine loathed the day when Theo would get a glance at it, but he never bothered the lumbering Soul Reaper about it, because firstly, it was too much trouble, and secondly, even in all the chaos, Day seemed to know where everything was. 

Or so it had appeared.

“Nine-Nine, Nine-Nine, I can’t find my favorite jacket!”

“I believe it’s on top of your chair, Mr. Day.”

“Nine-Nine!  My hair ties are all gone!  Tachi-Tachi made them for me!  What am I going to do?”

“Are not the hair ties Aitachi gave you the ones on your wrist, Mr. Day?”

“Wow!  Can I show you the really sparkly flower I found under my bed, Nine-Nine?”

“Mr. Day, I promise I’ll look at it after you finish packing.”

And so it went for another five minutes before Day declared himself “ready for adventure.”  Nine breathed a sigh of relief as he and his roommate grabbed their respective luggage (although Day had offered to carry Nine’s seventeen suitcases for him because he only had one and was “stronger than Nine-Nine!”) and walked into the common space of the Noctu Team Dorm.  He prayed that he would find the tribesmen duo of Aitachi and Kirr, all packed and waiting for them, but unfortunately, that was too much to ask for, as the pair were nowhere in sight.

Before Nine could send Day to go out looking for them, however, out lumbered both Kirr and Aitachi from their bedroom, each with not a single suitcase in sight, but rather, massive messenger bags slung across their shoulders, Kirr’s made of leather, and Aitachi’s, merino.  

Kirr smiled at the two from across the dorm.  “Day, Nine, do not fear: Aitachi and I have packed emergency provisions enough for the both of you.”

“Brother Kirr is right,” replied Aitachi, nodding, and patting his bag.  “We will stave off our mighty foe, ‘Malnutrition,’ with all the food that we have!”

Nine shoved down the need to facepalm at the duo and in a composed voice, asked, “Do you two happen to have any clothes packed with all the emergency rations you have in your bags?”

Aitachi and Kirr exchanged confused glances, before the older of the two asked, “Why would we bring a change of clothes if we plan to wash and dry the ones we’re wearing right now in rivers as we blaze our trail to the Plains of Purification?”

“Kirr-Kirr, Tachi-Tachi, that’s so smart!” exclaimed Day, as he made motions to throw out from his own suitcase all his clothes, too.

Nine held a hand out to stop him and swallowed a sigh.  “Mr. Kirr, Aitachi, I think it would be greatly beneficial if you two brought several days change of clothes along with all this, as we won’t be doing trailblazing of any sort to the Purification Plains.”

“Oh, that’s right,” realized Day, sadly.  “Manager said that everyone is taking a ‘road trip’ there, and we’re supposed to be driving the car that the Department left for us.”

Nine wanted to laugh at the we’re supposed to be driving the car remark, because, due to the fact that he wanted to go on living, there was no way that he was going to let any of the other members of the Night Team drive their Department-sanctioned car.

It wasn’t that he liked driving or even particularly wanted to, but he was one hundred percent certain that up in the cold alpine regions that he had grown up in, the only thing that Kirr had ever driven was a pack of sled dogs; Aitachi was only fourteen and up until yesterday, had assumed that the entire party was to travel by way of horseback; and Day, who he treasured greatly, was … Day.  Nine was sure that in the entire time Day had been in the Otherworld, he had yet to pass his driver’s license test and was still patiently nursing his permit. 

But he didn’t have the heart to correct the well-meaning Soul Reaper and nodded.  “Mr. Day is right.  Our trip shouldn’t take us more than eight hours if we take the car, so you don’t have to worry about washing and drying your clothes on the way there, but you will definitely need a change of outfits when we get to the Retreat, unless … you want Mr. Theo and the other Soul Reapers to keep a twenty-mile radius from you.”

(Was it terrible of him to think that that wasn’t so horrible of a prospect?)

Aitachi valiantly declared, “Mr. Theo’s actions will have no effect on me!” but turned around to his room to pack some clothes, anyway, while Kirr slunk off after him, muttering under his breath, “How inconvenient.”

Nine groaned softly as he and Day followed the pair, because frankly, while Aitachi—who liked to sew his own clothes—had something that resembled style, Kirr believed clothes were simply a troublesome necessity; he didn’t even own anything nicely colored or patterned (“In the forest, it is best for a hunter to wear dark, solid colors to blend in with their surroundings”) and had absolutely no fashion sense at all.  And as Nine, who had an appreciation for beauty, refused to let one of his teammates be the bane of anyone with eyes, he felt it his obligation to now ensure that Kirr did not pack everything in the realm of beiges, blacks, and whites for the Retreat.

After several minutes of sorting through Kirr’s clothes and wondering how every item managed to smell so strongly of pine and bramble, Nine deemed the Night Team ready to take on the open road of the Otherworld.  

He herded the group outside of the Department building and toward a clunky black minivan that looked nearly five hundred and thirty-seven SRE years old (he knew the 14th Department was cheap, but really?).  

Nine bit back a laugh when he saw Day carefully arranging his lanky arms and legs into the driver’s seat.

“Mr. Day, I believe it would be best if I did all the driving.”

Day looked surprised.  “Nine-Nine, that’s not fair to you.  We need to take turns!”

“Brother Day is right!  As warriors, we must all learn to share the burden,” said Aitachi.

Kirr nodded gravely.  “It’s not possible for one hunter to take up all the shifts in a single season and succeed.”

Nine didn’t know what to say to that, but as he definitely wasn’t going to let the rest of the team drive, he decided to politely allay their concerns by saying, “In the Otherworld, you need to have a license to drive.”

This seemed to satisfy both Kirr and Aitachi—although he suspected that that was because neither of them was familiar with what driver’s licenses were—but Day surprised him by pulling out a glistening card from his pocket.  “Ta-da!  Look, I have a license, too!  Manager went with me to go get it last week!”

He felt his stomach sink as he slunk toward the front passenger seat and said, “Ah, excellent work, Mr. Day.  Let’s you and I take two-hour shifts, then.”

Nine sighed as Day revved up the engine and cheered, “Yay!  Let’s go, Night Team!”  

He was going to die for a second time, wasn’t he?

Hour 1

“Nine-Nine, Tachi-Tachi, Kirr-Kirr!  Do you guys mind if I play some music?” asked Day, who, although had proven in the past fifteen minutes to be a moderately competent driver (He had only almost crashed three times!  A new low record!), was now completely turned around to address the two of his team members that were seated in the back passenger seats.

Kirr looked mildly concerned because as a hunter, he was used to and greatly appreciated the silence, and had regarded the quietness of the group in the strange vehicle known as “a car” as a kind of comfort.  However, he assented with a stoic “No,” when he noticed the disconcerted expression that Day, who enjoyed silence as much as any exuberant puppy, wore.  

“I have no objection!” assured Aitachi, who was curious as to how Brother Day intended to play a musical instrument when he was busy using both of his hands to operate the “car” machine that they were currently in.

It wasn’t that Nine didn’t appreciate Day’s choice of music—it was just that he knew that all the songs on the tall Soul Reaper’s Otherworldify travel playlist were either super sweet bubblegum pop or some kind of holy music in another language with lots and lots of sitar.  As it turned out, he, like Kirr, was a slave to Day’s melancholy expression and was forced to suffer with a “That’s fine, Mr. Day.” 

Day brightened instantly—it was so gloomy when it was silent—and, taking his eyes off of the road for a few seconds, reached for his cellphone to blast his travel playlist on the car’s speakers.

Nine cringed almost imperceptibly, and Kirr and Aitachi exchanged astonished glances because where was the music coming from (Kirr also privately wondered if the flamboyantly peppy lyrics of the female singer even could be considered music)?!

“It must be the work of spirits,” concluded Aitachi, nodding.  “Brother Day must have employed them to make these noises!”

“Waaaaah, Tachi-Tachi, it’s not noise—it’s music!” said Day, whose eyes had grown to the size of saucers at the comment.  “And hehe, nope, no spirits—the music is coming from these speakers!”  He gestured toward their various locations in the car, leaving exactly zero of his fingers on the steering wheel.

Nine nodded and took this opportunity to lower the volume as he elaborated, “Speakers amplify the sounds that pass through them.”

“What an amazing contraption!” cried Aitachi.  He turned toward his companion on the right.  “Don’t you think so, Brother Kirr?”

Kirr was silent for a few moments before measuredly answering, “It is indeed extraordinary … but will the music not distract you from your task, Day?”

“Don’t worry, Kirr-Kirr!” promised Day, who secretly had to admit that his focus from the road was wavering as he tried to sing along to the songs, but he wasn’t sure if he could stand the silence, again.  “I’ll try to stay alert!”

Nine was struck with an idea.  “Mr. Day, you have been asking to hear my personal compositions for a long time.  Would you like to listen to one now?  The classical music will help fill the long silence ahead of us but will allow you to keep your focus.”

Day beamed at the compromise.  “Yay!  We get to listen to Nine-Nine’s music!”

“Yes, play it, Brother Nine!  It is always good to listen to the music of a fellow warrior!” said Aitachi, as Nine opened his own Otherworldify account and began to play an instrumental soft piano melody.  

The group listened for a few moments before Kirr reached forward to lightly press a hand on Nine’s shoulder.  His eyes gleamed with praise as he said, “You have true talent, Nine.”

“Yeah, Nine-Nine is the best!” agreed Day, as he felt calm overcome him with the music.

“Brother Nine is a prodigy!” Aitachi said.

Nine smiled softly at the encouragement as he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat as he, along with the rest of the Night Team, listened to the masterful notes of the first movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Number 14.

While he loved Noctu dearly, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to show his fellow members his own personal compositions.

Yet.

Hour 2

As it turned out, the car that the 14th Department had given them was a gas guzzler, and at the beginning of the final hour of Day’s shift, Nine had the wits to peep at the fuel gauge—as the driver forgot to—and noticed that they were in dire need of gas, ASAP.

“It looks like we’ll need to refuel,” Nine announced.

Kirr immediately reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a short rope of jerky, handing it to him.

Nine shook his head.  “Not that kind of fuel, Mr. Kirr,” he said.  He took out his phone and searched for the nearest gas station.  “I meant fuel for the car.”

“It can share our jerky if it wants!” assured Aitachi, looking confused.  He wished he had remembered to bring carrots or hay, as that was the kind of food he had fed his horse, Tata, in the past, and he assumed this “car” would be more than obliged to consume the same fare, as well.

“I think Nine-Nine means gasoline,” Day said.  “That’s what gives cars their energy.”

Kirr grimaced.  “I’m afraid Aitachi and I failed to bring that kind of food.”  He lowered his head.  “We take full responsibility.”

As Aitachi bowed in tandem, Nine’s eyes widened when they both reached for their weapons.  “Mr. Kirr, Aitachi, it’s not your fault, truly.”  He gestured for them to lower their bows and knives, worrying that it was some kind of custom of both the Cicady and Atiyah tribes to self-mutilate as penance for an offense.  “Don’t hurt yourselves, please.”

“Hurt ourselves?  No, Brother Nine—Brother Kirr and I were only going to go hunt food for the car, as we didn’t think to bring any 'gasoline' for it!” said Aitachi.

Nine couldn’t hold back his laugh at the pair’s earnestness.  “There’s no need.  If Mr. Day will take a left here,” he nodded at the driver, who took an uncoordinated turn as instructed, “we’ll arrive at a station  where we can fill up our car with gas ad libitum, provided we have the money.”

“Which we do!”  Day pat his pockets in satisfaction, but upon remembering that he no longer was a wealthy human being, but rather a penniless Soul Reaper, he turned to Nine and blushed.  “Hehe, or I think Nine-Nine does.”

As the car rolled into the gas station, Nine smiled.  “That I do, Mr. Day.”

Hour 3

“Night Team, will you be with me as I wage war on Mane?” asked Aitachi abruptly as he rummaged through his messenger bag, his face a shade of red that matched the beads in his hair.  

Nine looked at the youngest of the group through the rearview mirror in concern, as Kirr instantly answered, “We will battle your enemies together, Aitachi.”  Nine was driving now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the main (read: sole) disciplinarian and voice of reason of his team. “Did something happen?”

“Yes, something did happen, Brother Nine!”  Aitachi pouted.  “It is a most grievous insult!”  He pulled out from his bag an enormous straw sunhat.  Around it was a sky-blue ribbon with the words “Aitachi: Cutest Warrior Ever!” embroidered on it.  

Day turned from his seat in the front to survey the commotion.  “Tachi-Tachi, that’s so cute!”

“That Mr. Licht snuck it into my bag, I’m sure!”  Aitachi shook the large headgear effusively.  “He's the only one who would do such a thing!”

Kirr nodded.  “We must seek the restitution of Aitachi’s honor against the Morning Team for this affront.”  

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea …” mumbled Day, who loathed conflict of any kind.  “Brother Licht will just apologize if you ask him.”

“Mr. Day is right,” said Nine.  “No waging war of any kind, okay?”  He strained his ears to hear the muted mutters of assent from Aitachi and Kirr.  “I said, okay?”  He nodded when the pair agreed louder this time.  “Good.”  

He looked at the clock, wondering how far the other teams were ahead of them.  Surely no one must’ve reached the Purification Plains yet, else the Manager would’ve made a post (or the team itself) on SNS.  He peered in the rearview mirror to see Aitachi unwinding the straw of his new hat in frustration.  “How about in order to avenge Aitachi, we do it by beating all the other teams—including Mane—to the retreat?”

Aitachi brightened at the prospect.  “What a good idea!”  He raised a fist determinedly.  “Death to the Morning Team!  Drive as fast as you can, Brother Nine!”

“Yay!  Let’s win this race, everyone!” cheered Day.  

Kirr bobbed his head.  “To the winners go the spoils.”

Nine grinned as he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal.  It was nice to see the Night Team come together like this, and for once, despite their extremely late start, Nine believed that they had a chance of winning.

Hour 5

First a nervous smile.

And then a frown.

Another nervous smile.

Another frown.

And then … something that resembled a mixture of both?

These were the expressions that consecutively passed on Day’s face in the two minutes that Nine had watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Day?” he finally had to ask.

Day stuttered, “I—um, no!”

“Brother Day, do not feel as if you need to hide your feelings from us!” said Aitachi.  “We are all warriors of equal caliber and can speak freely to one another.”

Kirr echoed the thought by saying, “Aitachi is right.  There are no secrets between us.”

Day’s face absolutely melted at the kind words.  “It’s just that,” he blubbered, “I really have to go to the bathroom and I know we’re on a tight schedule now and I don’t want to be a bother, and, and, and—”

“Mr. Day, there is no shame in needing to relieve yourself.”  Nine looked out the window and saw that a rest stop was coming up.  “We could all use a break, and look over there—there’s a resting place ahead, so we won’t even have to go out of our way.”

“Th—thanks for saying that, Nine-Nine,” sniffled Day, rubbing his watery eyes, as he pulled the car into the shelter that Nine had pointed out.

As soon as the vehicle came to a sudden stop (à la Day’s masterful parking skills), the party mosied out of the confining space of the car and into the open expanse of the rest stop.

Day sprinted to the bathroom shelter upon their arrival and Kirr began to stretch his muscles, much to the excitement of the flock of girls who stared nearby.

Nine followed Aitachi, who had smelled water and had grabbed Licht’s hat with every intention of throwing it into whatever body of water larger than a puddle that appeared.  

The younger boy saw Nine shadowing him and, as he came upon the lake which he had sensed, turned to the older Reaper and said quietly, “Brother Nine, you probably think I am being wasteful by casting such a finely-crafted piece of apparel away.”  He sighed and held the hat over the water.  “But I am a warrior and worked hard to be recognized as one in my tribe—it's disheartening to know that many in the 14th Department don’t see me as one simply because of my appearance.”

Nine shook his head.  “I don’t think that way at all.”  He himself loathed his own beauty and the other Reapers’ constant mention of it.  In that moment, he felt a kind of kinship with Aitachi, for they both hated what they saw in the mirror.  He pulled the younger Soul Reaper closer to the lake until they both could see their reflections in it.  “You are more than your appearance, Aitachi.  Us on the Night Team know that, but if the Reapers on the other teams need a reminder, we will make sure they get one.”

With that, he guided Aitachi’s hands farther above the water and gestured for him to let the hat go.  They both released a cathartic sigh as the ripples in the wake of its tumble down to the depths of the lake marred their reflections in the water.

Hour 6

“Is that the Evening Team?” asked Kirr as Day’s haphazard driving sped them past a field of fruit trees.  He was sure that his keen eyes had spotted Noah, Sian, Kati, and Cyrille lounging under several boughs, each munching lazily on an armful of apples.  

He watched—mildly amused—that upon noticing that the car that blazed past them was indeed of 14th Department and belonged to the Night Team (whose car had a vanity license plate that read “NOCTU”), no less, Hesperide dropped all the fruit they had been eating and looked at the passing faces of Day and Aitachi—who were sitting in the seats by the windows facing them—in shock.  

Nine smiled.  “That is the Evening Team.  And if I’m remembering correctly, they were the first  to leave?”  

“Yep, yep!” said Day.  “I remember because Little One was in a mood and told me to go away because I offered to get a suitcase that was too high for him to reach!  He told me my height wouldn’t matter in the end because Hesperide was going to leave first, and by Brother Cyrille’s calculations, that means they would get there first, too!”

Aitachi clapped his hands eagerly.  “They must have thought that their leaving early meant they could take long breaks.  A true warrior knows never to be so unguarded!”

“It looks like they’re already on our tails, nevertheless,” observed Kirr, who was still peering behind them at the Evening Team.  “They are fast like rabbits.”

“They’re already in their car?” asked Nine wearily.  Hadn’t they just seen them maybe two minutes ago?  Could they already be following them on the road?  He peeked into the rearview mirror in confusion.  There were no cars behind them for several yards—just how good was Kirr’s eyesight?

Kirr squinted, but he could still definitely make out Sian’s pink hair and Kati’s angry fist at least one mile behind them.  “They have not mounted their vehicle, yet.  They’re putting all their apples into some kind of compartment in the rear.”  As a hunter, he could gauge the distance and time it would take for them to catch up to the Night Team car in an instant.  “I have an idea.”

“What is it, Brother Kirr?” Aitachi asked eagerly.

Kirr looked at his companions.  “Let us set a trap for Hesperide to throw them off their course—and any other team that follows this path.”

“That is,” said Nine, “an excellent idea, Mr. Kirr.  Do you have any plans on what to do?”

“Normally I would suggest setting several snares to capture our prey, but as I believe Manager would be angry if the Evening Team was killed, I advise we set up a distraction that the other teams cannot refuse.”  He peered ahead with his sharp eyes and discerned a road marker that read:

Route 14 — Keep Right

Route 24 — Straight Ahead

If he was remembering the extremely long lectures Nine had given the group regarding the many winding roads of the Otherworld and how keeping on Route 14 would lead them straight to the Purification Plains, going on a different route would surely set one astray.  “Perhaps we should change the directions on that sign up ahead.” 

“Waaaaah, Kirr-Kirr, I don’t see any signs!” complained Day as he and the rest of the Night Team failed to see ahead what was so clear to the eagle-eyed hunter.  

“There is one,” he assured them.  “If Day were to move this vehicle with great speed, then we would be able to make it to the sign two minutes before the Evening Team.  In that time, we must rewrite the directions on it.  At present, it reads, ‘Route Fourteen, keep right, and Route Twenty-Four, straight ahead.”

“We will write ‘Route Fourteen, straight ahead, and Route Twenty-Four, keep right’ instead, then!” realized Aitachi.  Out from his messenger bag, he pulled several sticks of colored wax and lumps of coal, which he sometimes used to color pictures with—even though he insisted they were for the purpose of marking trees so one wouldn’t get lost in the woods.  “We can use these to rewrite the sign.”

And so that’s what they did.

Kirr’s estimation in how much time they would have to alter the road sign was correct, and the short time span caused their work to be rather shoddy, even though Nine’s beautiful calligraphy remedied it a little.

As they drove off, Nine bit his lip and said, “They won’t expect sabotage, so I hope they think that the mistakes in the sign were simply due to an error on the signmaker’s part.”

“‘Sabotage’ doesn’t sound very good, Nine-Nine,” said Day, who looked a tad bit queasy at the prospect.

Nine smiled benignly.  “Surely Manager expects a little healthy competitiveness in this contest.”

Hour 7

“Hm-♪-hm-♪, doesn’t everyone else think it’s funny that the only team we’ve seen in the past six hours is Hesperide?” mused Day, tapping absentmindedly at the windowsill.  “If what Little One said about the Evening Team leaving first is true, shouldn’t we have seen all the others in between?”

Aitachi pursed his lips.  “Maybe the other teams also sped past Hesperide when they were grazing, and they didn’t notice and so couldn’t take action?”

“Maybe,” said Nine, whose brow had begun to furrow,  “but I don’t think Noah would be that lax.  Especially since there aren’t that many cars on this road and all of the 14th Department ones have very obvious vanity license plates.”

“Diluculo and Mane up ahead,” announced Kirr, as if on cue.

The other Reapers’ eyebrows shot up.

“Both of the teams?” asked Nine, needing clarification because what were the chances?

Kirr nodded, looking ahead.  “All eight members are outside of their vehicles.”

“I see them, now!” exclaimed Day, whose jaw dropped open at the sight.  “Nine-Nine!  Nine-Nine—slow down!  Let’s see why they’re stopped!”

Nine, who didn’t necessarily want to waste time in oogling at the other teams, obeyed nonetheless and rolled down his window as the Noctu car stopped, with the engine running, in front of the field where the Dawn and Morning Teams were meandering about.

Quincy did not look happy to see them.  “Oh, great—it’s Doggo and his band of Night Team weirdos!”

Ell’s reception was much more welcoming.  “It’s great to see you guys—achoo!”

Day and Aitachi wriggled their way to Nine’s open window and poked their heads outside.

“Hey, everyone!  Why are you all stopped?” asked Day.

Aitachi, who had been surveying the area, pointed to Jamie, who was standing a few feet away with Non-Non, chanting, “Come on, lil’ feller, you can do it!” 

“I think, Brother Day, that Mr. Jamie is trying to get Non-Non to relieve himself!” 

“You brought Non-Non with you?” asked Nine incredulously.

Ell blushed.  “Mr. Jamie wouldn’t leave without him.”

Kirr also peeked out from Nine’s window.  “I too, would not leave without Non-Non if I were him.”  The tone he said this was so menacing that even Non-Non could feel a shiver down his spine.  

“Waaaaah, so that solves Mane, but what about you guys, Diluculo!”  Day looked a yard in front of him where Verine was pacing with some kind of inhaler at his nose.  “Oh no, is Bambi sick?”

“The Whelp is always sick, Doggo,” spat Quincy.  “And if he doesn’t get out of the car every hour for thirty minutes to get his stupid fresh air, then he gets even sicker!”

Youssef cleared his throat apologetically.  “What Quincy is trying to say is that Verine can’t stay cooped up in the car for very long so we’ve had to take a lot of breaks.  It’s only by chance that we met the Morning Team here.”

“If you’ve needed to make so many stops, how come you’re already only an hour away from the Purification Plains?” Nine had to ask.

The eldest Soul Reaper flushed and looked away.  “Mori … may have found that even though Route Fifteen doesn’t lead to the retreat location, it does merge into Route Fourteen quite aways down and in that span, manages to complete the same distance in only half the time.”

“Yeah, but Route Fifteen is shady as hell, so because of him,” Quincy whirled around to point a finger at Mori, who looked unperturbed at the accusation, “we almost got robbed seventeen times when we were taking the Whelp on his walks!”  He kicked the ground.  “And it doesn’t help that the dumb Morning Team decided to stop exactly where we did!”

“Speaking of the Morning Team,” Aitachi said, curling his fists angrily.  “Where are Mr. Licht and Mr. Ghilley?  I have many things I want to say to Mr. Licht for giving me that demeaning hat!”

“They’re both in the car, I think,” admitted Ell.  “And I’m sorry about Mr. Licht—he means well—achoo!”

Nine realized that unlike Diluculo, who had come through a different path, Mane must have stayed on Route Fourteen, and considering that they were ahead of Hesperide, must have found a way to avoid the Evening Team’s detection when they rested in the fruit trees.

“How were you able to get past Hesperide?” asked Nine.  “Surely if you went past them, they would have seen your car and drove ahead.”

Jamie, who was still trying to coax Non-Non into taking a bathroom break, called over, “Aw, Ghilley said that we should cover our license plates to confuse y’all.”

“Waaaaaaaah, isn’t that illegal?” asked Day, who didn’t realize that his team had no right to question Mane’s actions, as they themselves had done some unsavory things in order to win.

Ell’s blush deepened.  “O—oh, is it?  We had no idea—achoo!  Achoo!”

“While it is entertaining to hear of your exploits,” cut in Kirr, though not unkindly, “we of the Night Team must get moving, for we still have an hour yet to travel.”

Aitachi nodded.  “Brother Kirr is right!  We wish Diluculo the best of luck!”  He pointedly left out wishing well to Mane because dishonor!

“Bye-bye!” chirped Day, as Nine bade farewell to the other two teams and rolled the window back up.  

“That means the only team we have yet to meet is Die,” concluded Nine as they continued their drive down Route Fourteen.  

Day gulped.  “And scary King Ethan is on that team!”

“Brother Day, do not be afraid of Mr. Ethan!  We will most certainly beat him and the rest of Die!” assured Aitachi, although, he, along with the rest of the Night Team, could hardly fathom a scenario where the pretentious, but diligent Soul Reaper didn’t demand an absolute victory from his team.

Hour 8

“We’re almost there!” sang Day.  While he was busy playing Pictionary with Aitachi in the fog that formed from his breath on the window, he had still been keeping track of the time that had passed.

“And we’ve still seen no sign of the intrepid Day Team,” Kirr said.

Aitachi looked away from his and Day’s game to nervously offer, “What if they’re already at the Plains?”

“They can’t be,” affirmed Nine, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.  He was not going to give up a month free from cleaning shifts to someone as snobby as Ethan.

Kirr looked calm as he said, “Do not worry, Aitachi.  The members of Team Die are sneaky, but fast and strong, like foxes—and you remember how much fun we had the last time we hunted foxes.”

“Kirr-Kirr and Tachi-Tachi hunted foxes?  That’s so cool!”  Day exclaimed.  “Next time, take me too, please!”  He looked ahead and brightened.  “Hey, hey, that sign says ‘Welcome to the Purification Plains!’”

Suddenly, they heard an engine revving behind them and everyone besides Nine, who was driving, whirled around to see who the new car was.

Aitachi’s jaw dropped.  “Is that the Day Team?”  

The license plate on the front of the car proved it plainly, for it indeed, had “DIE” written on it, and the words were becoming clearer and clearer as the vehicle whizzed toward them at speeds that none of the decrepit 14th Department cars could even dream of moving at.  

Nine made the connection when he saw the plume of smoke and flames that the Day Team car left in its wake.  “Mr. June’s using his fireballs and blowing through all their fuel at once to move the car as fast as possible!”

“They were tailing us—” realized Kirr, running a hand through his hair in desperation, “waiting for the right moment in which to launch their true speed!  How could I have been so foolish as to not see this coming?  Ethan is a crafty foe, indeed.”

Aitachi tried to keep the panic out of his voice to console his friend by saying, “Do not think it your fault, Brother Kirr.  I’m sure Mr. Ethan purposely kept his car far enough that you couldn’t see what he was doing, but so that he could see us.”

“He probably saw us switch the signs on Hesperide, too,” recognized Nine.  However, he couldn’t dwell on that now, as the Day Team’s car was now right up next to them and was speeding past.  

Suddenly, Day was struck with an idea as he watched the golden smoke that depicted June’s handiwork from the tailpipe of Die's car.  “I have an idea!”

“Say it, Brother Day!  We’ll take anything!” exclaimed Aitachi, watching Die race closer and closer to the entrance to the Purification Plains.  

Day nodded.  “Let’s all draw our weapons and throw them at the car’s wheels on my count!”

Aitachi and Kirr bobbed their heads in agreement, but Nine stared at Day carefully.  “Are you sure about this, Mr. Day?  This is rather underhanded for you.”

“I’ll do anything to protect Tachi-Tachi’s honor,” assured Day, with not even a slight waver in his voice.  He drew his weapon and signaled for the others to do the same.  “On my mark, ready … set … go!”  He exclaimed the last syllable when he saw that the Day Team was fifteen feet in front of the entrance.

All of Noctu rolled down their windows and released their weapons at the word and every one of them hit true on the mark of one of the other car’s wheels.  As the Day Team’s tires blew out, the Night Team’s car sped past Ethan’s enraged face, but they had gotten no more than five feet before one of their own tires popped.

“Oh, no, King Ethan retaliated!” cried Day, referring to the lone sword that had pierced their car’s wheels.

However, Ethan’s sword did not have the slowing effect that he had intended, for as soon as Kirr and Aitachi felt the tell-tale loosening of pressure from one of their tires, their instincts and fleetfootedness, honed from years of hunting nimble hares and deer in the forest, took over, and they kicked open the car doors.  Before anyone could blink, the pair raced toward the Purification Plains’ entrance. 

“Come, Mr. Day, let’s follow them,” ushered Nine the instant the two sprinted out, offering his hand to the tall Soul Reaper.    

Day took it and grinned.  “Aye-aye, Nine!”

Ethan, along with the rest of Die, arrived at the entrance just as the last two members of Noctu did.  

“We did it!” cheered Day, huddling all the members of the Night Team into a group hug.  “We won!”  

“You didn’t win,” began Ethan, his eye twitching in irritation.  “You can’t win if your vehicle didn’t cross the entry point.”  He grit his teeth.  “Now since neither of ours can make it across, the winners will either be Mane, Hesperide, or Diluculo.”

“That’s not necessarily the case,” said the Manager, who seemed to materialize from out of nowhere.  She beamed at the two teams.  “The rules were that whichever team arrives at the Purification Plains first would win.  And since Kirr and Aitachi are both of the Night Team, Noctu wins!”

Ethan’s frown—which had momentarily disappeared at the sight of the Manager—deepened.  “But ma’am—they played unfairly.”

The Manager bit her lips.  “Technically, Sei Housemaster, Nyang Lead Manager, and I never said that there were parameters on what you could and couldn’t do to win, so while I don’t condone their actions—and yours, too, Ethan, I saw you throw your sword at their tire, as well—I think in terms of this competition, it’s okay.”  She turned to look sternly at the members of the Night Team.  “But I expect you four to pay for the damages you caused to the Day Team’s car.”  She cleared her throat.  “And to the sign.”

Day’s eyes widened.  “You know about that, Manager?”

The Manager only laughed and took out from her pocket four pink slips of paper and handed them to the members of Noctu.  “I award these coupons, which serve as passes from cleaning shifts for one month, to the Night Team!”

The group of four held their tickets up to the sky and cheered, and Nine had to admit, although his motivation for this road trip initially had been for these passes alone, he now considered them just a sweet, sweet bonus for the time he had spent bonding with his teammates.  

And on their drive home after the 14th Department Annual Retreat, he scrounged up his courage and poised a finger on the “play” button on the car speaker to share with the rest of Noctu his most prized, secret music composition.

He had hesitated before to show this part of himself.

But after this trip, he was finally ready.

[memfys23]

The Sound

“C’mon, girl. Smell the nice fishy? Hmm? Nice and fresh.”

There’s a small splash as the fish hit the water, but the sea lions took no notice of it and continued to stare impassively at Sam where he stood on the ship deck. Just after sunrise they had been swimming in long arcs parallel to the shore of the nearby island, but as the First Green had drifted in closer, more and more of them had shortened their sweeps until there was an audience of several floating off starboard, watching with eerie quiet.

The fish rocked gently black and forth as it slowly sank and the sleek animals made no move to follow it.

Dean whistled. “That is some damn impressive training. Also…” He gave a quick whack to the back of his brother’s head. “The fuck you think you’re gonna keep one of those things?”

“Ow!” Sam pushed the hair out of his face on the way to rubbing the back of his head. “I wasn’t trying to catch one. I just thought I’d make friends.”

“Sure, Sammy.”

“Seriously, Dean. We live in a two bedroom walk-up. Even if we moved, renting a place with a pool would seriously stretch our budget… at least at my old job’s wages…”

“No, Sammy”

“And my car’s too small to transport for vet visits. I’d have to stick it in the backseat of – “

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence.”

Sam grinned at the finger pointed in his face.

“You’re too easy.”

Dean huffed and returned to counting the alcohol swabs in the first aid kit while Sam continued watching the sea lions watch him.

Satisfied that the kit was still fully stocked, Dean returned it to the case on the wall and joined Sam at the railing just in time for a series of low whistles to come across the water. The sea lions attention was grabbed and they began ducking beneath the water and swimming away towards the island in the distance.

From here in the pall of the northwest, the settlement that they knew was there was a smudge on the shoreline; the small windmill floating off shore was lost in the gray.

Dean raised his binoculars and watched as the sea lions were greeted by other figures in the crashing surf. The sea lions nosed at hands and showed a playfulness that had absolutely been absent the rest of the day.

“I wish we could talk to them,” Sam said, lowering his own binoculars to push the hair out of his eyes. “Think about what we could learn about each other if we could just talk.”

“Yeah. Maybe if I throw you overboard one of them will mistake you with your girly hair as a damsel in need of rescue and sweep you back to their shack for a little ‘cultural exchange’.”

Sam punched him in the arm, hard and then went back to his binoculars.

Meeting a selkie would definitely be a highlight to this trip. In addition to all the safety discussions and the legal walk throughs (how close were they allowed to get to the actual oil pipeline, what could they take pictures of, etc.), Dean and the rest of the Green Peace expedition had been forced to sit through a seminar on interacting with any selkie that they encountered on this trip. It boiled down to don’t.

To call the selkie standoffish was an understatement. For most of history the relations between human and Selkie had been cold at best and hostile at worst. Selkie who intruded to much into human fishing waters were often chased off their settlements, forced to rocky islands that Humans found utterly inhospitable. History was also littered with the tales of ships run aground, or worse sunk with all hands after straying too close to Selkie waters.

Of course history was more complicated. There were good stories too. Drowned sailors thought lost forever returned to their home shores, lost selkie saved from circling sharks and given a lift to the nearest rookery. Careful exchanges of technology and culture over the centuries. A handful of documented cases of friendship and, even rarer, romance. Hell, the jacket Dean’s father had left him was Selkie made, passed on to John from who knows where. Decades old as it was, it still kept the rain out like nothing else.

It would be pretty cool to meet selkie. Would definitely be worth several free beers over the course of his life. But it was better not to get their hopes up. The First Green was here to observe the local oil pipeline and its impacts on the non-human and non-selkie ecology. Cultural exchange was not in their mission statement and the local selkie population had made no overtures during their week here so far. They had kept distant from the ship and the divers, shifting their fishing patterns and their herds to the other side of their island presumably to wait out the expedition.

Dean and Sam watched the selkie and their sea lions splashing through the surf a little while longer and moved on when the expedition’s volunteer photographer wandered over. He left Sam to point out different parts of the landscape and the selkie rookery to Sarah while she peered through her camera.

*             *             *

With the exception of the mornings, the weather in Lopez Bay had been beautiful. The sun had sparkled over the deep green waters and warm breezes had moved the air just enough to keep it from being stifling without providing any chill.

Even the selkie had seemed to loosen up. Early in the third week the crew had woken up one morning to find the sea cows back in their original cove and while the raft of sea lions continued to watch the ship warily and ignore the occasional fish a crewperson tried to tempt them with, they were now joined by a gaggle of motley pelted seals who responded with much less stoicism. The seals eagerly leapt, dove, an spun and they received a rain of fish as their reward.

It had been far more comfortable than Dean had been led to believe the Pacific Northwest to be.

Today was a whole other kettle of fish. Overnight it seemed the region had finally decided to show her true colors. Rain slapped against the windows and the floor of the mess was slick with water tracked in every time someone came from outside. Rain slickers dripped water down the walls where they were hung and every glass surface fogged with the collected breaths of the crew and the steam rising from their mugs.

Sam blew on his hot chocolate and took a small sip before putting it down again.

“You want me to get you some marshmallows to go with that?” Dean asked as he slid on to the bench.

“You have marshmallows?”

Dean shook his head and cradled his own mug close to his frozen nose.

“Seriously, Dean. If you’re hoarding marshmallows, share the goddamn wealth.”

Dean sipped his coffee. Too hot, but he wasn’t gonna be a goddamn girl about it like Sam. “Shaddup. How are your talks going with the fishing company? Are they still threatening to sue our asses to hell and back?”

“They won’t give any ground, but we’re not actively interfering with any of their transports and they can’t object to any of the observations we’re taking. No activities they undertake in public waters can be considered proprietary so we’re fully within our rights to take pictures and videos and the scientists have their own permits for testing and observing in the wildlife reserve so they can’t keep our people out of the water and away from their equipment as long as we’re not actually interfering with any of it.”

“They are damn lucky you were able to get such a good stretch of time off between your old firm and the new one.”

“I’m not the only one who’s managed to impress on this trip. I was talking with Doctor Karam earlier. His wife is a physician with Doctors Without Borders and they’re apparently looking for supply logisticians. Experienced people who understand medical needs and can get shit done. I think Doctor Karam thinks you’d be a great fit. It would be a great step up in your career.”

“C’mon, Sammy. I’ve had enough of parachuting into crappy places all over the world. I’m ready to stay put for a while. Not to mention we’re gonna be in the same place at the same time for the first time in a long time. You and me raising hell and looking fabulous doing it. Just like old times.”

Sam hesitated, dropped his eyes to his mug and Dean’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“About that, Dean.” Sam took a deep breath. “The firm has an opening in the DC office. It’s better pay and it would open up some really cool opportunities for me.”

“So that’s why you’re so eager to get rid of me.” He lifted his leg and pivoted off the bench. “I need some fresh air.”

“Dean, c’mon, man, that’s not fair,” he heard Sam start but Dean was already walking away. He drained the last of the coffee in his cup, dropped it in the bin strapped to the compost bin (of course these freaking hippies had a compost bin) and wrenched open the mess door. He made his way to the end of the hall and then out under the awning. Small blessing there wasn’t a lot of wind.

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and leaned against the bulkhead while he held the tip to his zippo flame. He’d promised Sam and Uncle Bobby he’d quit, but quitting was a process and the other coping option of a beer would mean heading back into the galley and Sam’s disapproval.

Goddamn genius brothers. Kid couldn’t leave well enough alone. Couldn’t be happy with what he had which was already lightyears more than any Winchester had ever had before. Couldn’t resist one more rung on the ladder. The chance to get away from Dean again probably made the opportunity all the sweeter. He’d probably been spending the last few weeks looking for any bone he could throw to Dean to make it seem like it wasn’t all just about avoiding his broken loser older brother.

The glow of the cigarette was a mocking reminder of the cold outside. Dean took a long drag, held the smoke in his lungs, and then let it out in a long slow stream. He scrubbed his hand over his face and tried not to feel the dual cold of the weather and the steel bulkhead behind him leaching through his clothes. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and repeated the earlier drag. He could at least be grateful there wasn’t any wind.

Dean continued to smoke, listening to the raindrops clatter off the awning when he something stole his attention. He stilled, suddenly hyper aware, not sure what had interrupted his pity party when deep jingle and clank sounded over a gap in the rain. The clank came again from around the corner followed by a thud, a grunt, and then a splash. Dean pushed away from the wall bulkhead behind him and headed around the corner to the sound. As he made his way there was another clank and then a thud again, followed by another.

Dean stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the stern deck, feeling the cigarette drop from his suddenly gaping mouth.

There, in the pouring rain, slumped on the deck, a smaller form clasped in his arms, blue eyes boring into Dean’s soul, was a selkie.