#and josie was like very short lived

[sunkendreams]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

[pennyluna]

Misunderstandings Part 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (18+) Wordcount: around 1.5k

Genre: New to working together au. Cold playboy au. Future something au.

WARNING: This story contains some bad words/strong language! Contains also spicy scenes, so please be aware before reading it.

It has been a week since my team started working with Yoongi, the week had been filled with meetings about coordination between the teams, some of the meetings were one on one basically so I could get a sense of what he expected from me during this 5 weeks, it was fairly easy to agree on the way we could handle things, starting from the fact that I would have to be available 24/7 just in case I was needed! I had been going home around 8pm every day and always kept my phone on me with the ringer.

Yoongi was going to be in the studio all day tomorrow, which meant I didn't have to go into the office so I decided to relax tonight, took a long shower, moisturized and did my relaxing ritual, put on a grey tank top, no bra and some shorts, wrapped my long wavy dark hair in a towel and walked to the kitchen.

I make sure the bottle of Sauvignon blank that I bought on my way home was cold and put out two wine glasses, one for me and one for my girl best friend Josie, she is on her way over so we can gossip and watch reality shows. Josie has been my best friend since middle school, fun fact her fiancé is also my best friend. Even bigger fun fact, I had been on a date with Zion when we were in college but we quickly agreed that a friendship was the thing for us, I introduced them during one of Josie's visits on campus and now 4 years later they are just a few months away from getting married.

I hear her emergency key to my apartment in the lock and start preparing the popcorn.

"Zion is driving me crazy!!" she says with an exasperated tone while closing the front door.

I laugh at her facial expression, she is going for annoyed but it looks cute on her.

"Hello to you too... what did he do now?"

"He keeps changing our funny dance for the wedding!"

"you mean your first dance?" I say with a confused face while pouring the wine and handing her a glass.

she takes a big sip "Nono, 'Cant help falling in love' is still our song but he saw online that people like doing some funny dance trend after and You know I'm not good at dancing."

Josie comes from a rich conservative family, she is very classy and polished, never late and never a hair out of place, so I was surprised when she told me she was in love with Zion, his style very much the opposite of her but both with a heart of gold.

I laugh at the thought of Josie dancing some TikTok challenge.

"Oh josie...you are a great dancer, just not with the new stuff!" i try to comfort her and we walk to the couch.

We are under the fluffy blankets watching our third episode of love island UK season 10, we had finished the USA one a couple of weeks ago. Suddenly my phone starts ringing, the word OFFICE written in the screen, I look at the time "11:34 pm". Josie and I look at each other with confusion in our faces, she pauses the show and I shake my head trying to shake the 2 glasses of wine off my system and then proceed to answer the call.

"Hello (Y/N), this is the security from the building, sorry for calling you so late, Mr. Min is here at the office trying to access the studio but he had left his keys inside and the other copy isㅡ"

"is in my bag!" I say simultaneously facepalming my face. "I will be there in 15 minutes" luckily I don't live far away from it.

Hanging up I rush to the room, put a pair of skinny jeans on, my classic vans and put my hair on a messy ponytail. The taxi Josie had called for me was here already so I rushed out of the door telling her I would be back soon.

7 minutes later I was in front of my building, greeted the security and proceeded to the 19th floor, were the studio is. Yoongi is waiting right in front of the elevator doors when they open and I get surprised to see him in his very relaxed outfit. Hair covering his gorgeous forehead, his phone in one hand and the other one in his pocket, his eyes rise up to meet mine and I smile at him. We start walking to the elevator, he is behind me and I don't know if its his presence or the wine but I feel my cheeks heating up and warmth running through me. I open the door for him and try to hand the keys to him.

"do you want to come in for a while?" he asks with a blank expression.

"mmm sure." dammit, I am supposed to be just dropping the keys off.

I walk past him and he closes the door behind us. Its a normal studio, with little touches of him, a couple of basketball gadgets and some posters, a couch with some pretty purple cushions and a blanket, he had made it his own.

"would you like some more wine?" his question takes my attention out of looking around his studio.

"mmm sure. thank you. Waitㅡ 'more'?" my face expressing my confusion.

He has a small smile on his face while pouring me a glass "yeah, more! I noticed you have a slight scent of wine on you, so you must have been drinking some before coming here".

aww, he was smelling meㅡ Stop. waitㅡ oh my god did that mean I smell of alcohol?. oh God, that's not very professional.

"hey, its not a problem you know. I like wine, so you know... you smell good" his words snapping me out of my small mental freak out. "plus, you weren't even supposed to be coming here so don't worry about it." he hands me the glass of wine.

We've been seated on his couch and talking casually about the things we like and our passions for a couple of hours now, I feel really comfortable around him and he seems comfortable around me! He said something funny and I pushed his leg in a jokingly manner but when I tried to retrieve my hand he grabbed it pulling me closer to him, we stopped laughing suddenly and stared into each others eyes, he bit his bottom lip and shacked his head no subtly, like if he was shaking away a thought. His eyes started roaming my frame and My heartbeat accelerated once I noticed where his gaze had stopped.

My nipples were hard and he could see their outline through my tank top. Shit!!! I didn't put on bra. I should say goodnight and walk away but why aren't my legs moving?! I feel warmth spreading through my thighs.

"It's late!" He suddenly gets up and it startles me. "Maybe you should go home!"

"huh? maybe you should go home!" I say with defiance, -why cant i just shut up-.

"(Y/N)!" -my name sounds so good in his voice- "You are drunk and I'm afraid you will regret any decision we take after this point!"

He is making sense, he has a point, plus we are working together, we need to maintain a professional relationship so I get up and start walking past him and towards the door, I say goodbye and walk to the elevator. Pressing the button to call the elevator I realize that my keycard to leave the building is in my bag with my phone and my house keys -damm it- I walk back to the studio where Yoongi hadn't closed the door yet for some reason and when his eyes reached mine, I swear there was a little hope in them. I walked past him again and grabbed my bag then turned around to wave goodbye.

He stayed still for a while, like contemplating what to do, he raised his hand to wave back but he seemed hesitant. I started to walk to the door when suddenly he grabbed my wrist. I stopped breathing for a second and my heart started beating faster.

"Maybe you should stay!" he says softly. while pulling me towards him until my chest is flat against his. I can feel his breath on my face. A hint of whiskey on it.

"Maybe you should stay too!"

He smiles at my statement and that seemed to be all the permission he needed because his hand started to travel from my waist to my breast while the other one held my chin up while he watched me and the kisses me.

It was gentle at first and then became passionate, one of those kisses that take your breath away and make you dizzy. He kissed like I belonged to him, like no one had kissed me before and I was loving it.

His hand move to the front of my jeans and start undoing the buttons, his mouth now trailing my neck. my jeans come off and we move around, he leans my ass against his desk and starts trailing wet kisses from my neck down. He sucks my nipples through the tank top and starts rubbing my core.

"so wet for me already huh?" I moan and put my hands on the desk to balance myself a bit. His mouth trails down my body until I can feel his warm breath on top of my core, his fingers slowly move my panties to the side and the he assaults my clit with his mouth. -so much talent in that mouth-.

Yoongi's tongue is all over my clit and I feel my orgasm building. I cant control my moans and thank god this place is soundproof. He starts alternating between tongue fucking me and playing with my clit and I am almost at my high. The minute his hand grabs my hips to keep me still I cant control myself any longer and come. "Good girl! You taste amazing". he smirks.

"My turn!!" I smile at him and fall to my knees, looking up at him and holding the eye contact I start lowering his sweatpants. I was surprised to notice he wasn't wearing any underwear and his erection almost smacked my face when it came out of his pants!

I start holding his dick and licking the tip of it, he exhales a shaky breath and I slowly introduce his erection in my mouth. Starting to suck in and out of my mouth at first slowly and then increasing my pace, I cup his balls in my hand and then continue to suck him off at a fast pace! he is moaning and throwing his head back and I can feel it wont take him long before reaching his orgasm! I slow down my pace to tease him a little and we make eye contact again, he seems hungry for me, he wants me.

"Get up!" after taking the rest of his clothes off, he helps me get up and he takes my tank top and underwear then stares at my body for a second, I can see hunger in those eyes, hunger for me. I can see he cant decide on what to play with first. "Bend over my desk!" he commands -I guess he decided where to start- my boobs are now pressed flat against his desk, it is cold and I feel my nipples hardening.

His hands start caressing my ass and touching my clit "You are a sight. I've been wanting to bend you over my desk ever since the first day when you gave us that building tour" he says and I instantly moaned out of neediness, I need him inside of me now!.

"YOONGIㅡ"

"My god I love how you say my name... keep saying it princess!" -fuuck I want to come again so bad- he continues touching me and then I fill his hand get to the back of my neck pinning me to the desk and his other hand rubbing his dick around my folds.

"Yoongi, I needㅡ" he shut me up with his dick entering me hard, I moaned loudly and he waited a second to let me adjust then started pumping into me hard and at a fast pace. I became a moaning mess and my orgasm started building again, he used his free had to spank my ass and I moaned again, my eyes got teary but I was enjoying this. I was enjoying being fucked senseless. I enjoyed the pain mixed with pleasure that he was giving me. I needed it. After all, it had been almost two years since the last time I had sex.

I notice his pace getting faster and faster "Come for me princess! I want you to come!" he says with a commanding voice. Our orgasms hit us couple of seconds later, his seed all over my lower back!

We are both panting. He takes a second to clean me up, then opens a drawer grabbing a t-shirt from it and giving it to me. We sit on the couch to rest for a bit he kisses my forehead and suddenly the exhaustion and the wine get to me and I fall asleep in his arms!

I wake up the day after with a strong headache, I feel around for my phone that should be on my bedside table but then open my eyes to realize I'm still on the couch in the studio. Yoongi isn't in the couch anymore so I look around and see him working at his desk on the computer. I breathe a sight of relief. I reach for my jeans put them on and then walk towards him.

"Your bag and keys are by the piano" eyes fixed to the screen and monotone voice.

"Thanks!" I say hesitant about what to do next. "Would youㅡ" he cuts me off.

"I will see you at the meeting this afternoon." This time his voice sounds annoyed and dismissive. A bad feeling downs on me.

I grab my things and once I'm at the door I look back, expecting him to at least look at me before I go but nothing. -He regrets it-  that thought hurt, more than my headache!

While waiting for my taxi I realized that its 6am, that I had left Josie at home waiting for me and that I had royally fucked up by sleeping with the VIP, that he seemed to regret it to the point of not being able to look at me and that the meeting where I will have to see him in a few hours will be hard.

A.N: This is part 1 of this story, Hope you can enjoy it. Please if you want, read the prologue of this story too. I am not clear on how many parts it will have but hopefully many more, I have already mapped out how the story will continue but publishing it depends on the readers request.

A.N 2: any feedback would be appreciated! Likes and conditions are appreciated too! Please do not copy my work and give credit if reshared!

[goldribboncottage]

Hazel Callahan Fanfiction

I haven’t posted on tumblr dot com in probably three years. I don’t know how it works.

This is my untitled fanfiction about being Hazel’s sisters’ nanny and falling in love. I haven’t written a fanfiction since I was in middle school. Enjoy.

Untitled Pookie Story 

It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. You weren’t supposed to fall for the bosses daughter. You barely knew the boss had a daughter. Mrs. Webster mentioned in passing that her oldest was off at college, and didn’t tend to come home on breaks. 

“I have another child at Amherst, but that won’t be relevant to this position. It’s strictly caring for the twins! She never comes home anyway. A lot of people ask, what was I thinking having kids 20 years apart, but it’s truly a blessing to start over. No need to relive mistakes as a first time mom! I’m so excited to have someone so kind caring for my babies.” Mrs. Webster almost hired you on the spot. 

You wondered about the elder Webster. She probably wasn’t called that, being from her first marriage. Whatever, it’s not like you would be seeing her at the new job. There were no pictures of her in the house, but you knew her old bedroom was across from yours, and you took over her old bathroom. Being a live in nanny, your priorities were the 4 month old fraternal twins, Isla and Sage. 

Two months in and you had the twins on a great schedule, and hit your stride. Making friends wasn’t always easy for you growing up but you fell into an easy friendship with a group a little younger than you. PJ and Brittany were nice people and you had a lot in common. Brittany was a cosmetologist and cheered for a local sports team, and PJ had her own podcast. They had known each other since high school but quickly accepted you as one of them. You had hung out with them a lot since moving, and gotten to know their wider group of friends. 

The best part about being an infant nanny was the nap times. Mrs. W didn’t expect you to do any chores or extra work, so you’d usually hang out in your room or the common areas. Today being the first warm day in a while, you took the baby monitor outside and read on the back porch. 

Nearly falling asleep, the porch swing was your favorite part of the house. Sure, Mrs. Webster had a huge house from her first divorce settlement, and plenty of money of her own, but this little corner felt like your place. Big and comfy, naps outside always came unexpectedly. 

*Movement at Front Door*

Waking you, the Ring notification flashed on your screen, and you figured it was Mrs. W coming home early. She usually texted, but maybe she forgot. Typical for a woman in her 50s who married a 28 year old surfer and divorced him before their children were born.

Re-entering the house to greet Mrs. Webster, you were met with a surprise. A very short, shaggy haired, blue eyed surprise. 

Hazel POV

I’m not sure why I decided today was the day to come home for the first time in five months. After helping my mom with her two little mistakes for three weeks I decided it hurt too much to be around them. Just more reminders my mom chose a new start over me. 

I didn’t bother telling my mom I’d be coming home, she’d prefer I stay in Massachusetts. But it was spring break, and I missed my friends. PJ mentioned my mom hiring help, but I didn’t care about what she did. She was always looking for ways out of being a parent. 

There was a foreign car in the driveway, with a Callahan Motors license plate cover. Must be a guilt present from my dad. Another SUV for my mom to drive around the little brats in. 

I had planned on running home for a quick shower and change of clothes before meeting up with PJ, Josie, Isabel, and Brittany. 

I hadn’t planned on entering my home and finding it filled with stuff I didn’t recognize. Shoes that were way too young for my mom filled the rack in the closet, another with jackets I didn’t recognize. Huh. Must be another crisis, this time in fashion. I made my way to the kitchen at the back of the house when something stops me. Or rather, someone. 

Reader POV

“Who the fuck are you?” The tiny masculine girl scoffs, rounding the kitchen island. 

“Who am I? WHO ARE YOU? Why are you here? Get out! If you don’t leave I’m calling the cops!” unfazed, she grabs a drink out of the fridge. “I’m serious. I am responsible for this house and all of the people in it right now and I am not afraid of you. Get out before I make you get out”

Sensing your change in tone, she puts her hands up in defense “Hey, I live here, I could say the same thing to you.” She sips her drink and doesn’t break eye contact. 

“You don’t live here! I’ve NEVER seen you before! I live her with Mrs. Webster and her daughters. I’m calling the cops. You can get out now or wait until they-“

“Whoawhoawhoa, pleasedontdothat. I’m Hazel. Callahan. My mom didn’t tell you about me? Are you like the maid or something? I’m just visiting for spring break. I live here. Seriously.” You stared at her, as if telling her to go on. “If I didn’t live here I wouldn’t know there’s a chip in the upstairs bath tile I never told my mom about, or that the fourth step squeaks on the stairs, and I have two baby sisters! I know their names! Isla and Sage! They’re like, little! I don’t know how old they are! But they’re still, like, babies, I think!” 

You put down your phone. So this is Mrs. Websters oldest daughter. Hazel Callahan. You wondered why you had never heard her name until now. 

“They’re 6 months old. Next week will be 7.” You explain. “And I’m not the maid, I’m the nanny. I live in the room across from yours. I told your mom about the chip in the tile. I thought I did it when I slipped coming out of the shower.” She laughs. You can see it now. Sage has the same deep blue eyes, and Isla’s hair is just a shorter, thinner version of Hazel’s. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too. Sorry about the mix up. Where are those little rugrats? I haven’t seen them since they came out of the womb.” She puts back her drink and starts to make her way to the nursery. 

“Wait! Just look at the monitor. They aren’t supposed to wake up until 3.” You hand her the monitor, and she grabs it slowly. Your hands brush, and you explain to her the differences in the girls. 

“Isla has the dark hair, like you and your mom. Sage has lighter hair but darker eyes. Blue. Like yours. Dark blue. And big.” Hazel glances at you with her big blue eyes and meets your e/c ones. “They’re so adorable. When she stares at me I swear my heart melts. I’m such a sucker.” You shake your head and giggle, thinking of the tender moments you’ve shared with the babies. Hazel looks up at you from under her eyelashes. 

“Adorable?”

“I mean the babies.” You step away slightly. “Speaking of, I have to get their food ready. Today they’re trying peas for the first time. We are all very excited.” 

“Thrilling. Well, I’m going to go upstairs. I have to be somewhere. It was nice meeting you.” She tips her head in salute and walks off. 

“You too, Hazel.” You whisper. 

She comes down as you are wiping mushy peas off the girls and their high chairs. 

Wow. You’d never had a certain type, but Hazel was definitely it. She looked good in an oversized t shirt, vest, and nike sneakers. “Hey.” She rocks on her heels, almost looking scared to approach you.

“Oh! H-Hi. We just finished. This is about as clean as they will get if you want to come say hi. They don’t bite! They really can’t, yet, they’ve only got two teeth each. Isla did bite me once but that was only because she thought I was food!” Sensing you were over talking you pick up Sage and offer her the Hazel. The younger girl backs away, a concerned look on her face. “Oh, sorry! I forget not everyone is a baby person. You don’t have to hold her. She’s really good at sitting now! You can play in the living room while I get Isla cleaned up.”

“I’m good, but thank you. I have to meet my friends. I haven’t been back in a while. I don’t know when I’ll be home tonight but I told my mom I’m in town. See ya” She exits quickly. 

Hazel POV

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I don’t know why I can’t handle being around my sisters. I mean, I haven’t met a lot of babies, but I’ve never been scared of them. Maybe it isn’t them I’m scared of. I’ve stayed away from Rockbridge for a reason. Let my mom have her perfect little life without me in it. I don’t need her anyway. But that nanny is something. Hiring someone to live at your house? At MY house? God. Who knows what’s next on the divorcee-crisis list. 

I pulled into the parking lot of Bottoms, the greatest and only queer bar in town. I could see my friends at their usual table inside. At least one thing was good about coming home. 

“Hazel!” Isabel rushes to hug me, and I can tell a line is forming behind her. She kisses my cheek and tells me how much I’ve been missed. “You need to come back more often!” 

“Yeah, it’s not like Amherst has anything to offer but snotty WASPS and fake deep classes.” PJ chimes in. 

“Hey, Hazel’s doing great there! And don’t hate on Massachusetts, Emerson was your top choice.” Josie adds, defending me and our college towns. 

I’m glad to see nothings changed. 

After a couple of drinks, I decide to bring up the incident earlier today with my mom’s new nanny. 

“Oh my god! Y/N? We love her! Why didn’t you invite her out? I can’t believe she thought you were an intruder. That’s so funny. I’m texting her right now.” Brittany whips out her phone and clicks away. 

“Wait you guys know her? Like have her number and text her know her? How come no one’s told me about this!” 

Josie answers first “Well to be fair when we met her we didn’t know she was their nanny, and you don’t really like to talk about your family so we didn’t bring it up.”

“Yeah Hazel we always want to respect you, especially since everything happened with your dad and then Jeff. Your mom has put you through a lot in the past” Isabel takes my hand and comforts me. 

“Yeah that AND the fact that Y/N and I are totally gonna bone. She’s a lesbian, as we all are-“

“I’m still not gay, PJ.” Brittany interrupts. “And Isabel is Bi.”

“Anyway, AS I was saying, there’s totally tension there. It’s only a matter of time before we’re scissoring and run away together.” 

“PJ, you barely talk to her, and she’s the only one who is as much of a bitch as you.” Brittany quips. “You get humbled every time Y/N opens her mouth.”

“I like a challenge, baby.” PJ blows Brittany a kiss and swigs her drink. 

“Anyway it’s not like we only like Y/N because she works for your mom. She’s super nice. She’s 26 and has more life experience than all of us combined. It’s like she’s lived 30 lives. She’s so cool.” Josie says, changing the direction of conversation. 

“Yeah, okay” I say “I’ll try to get to know her better while I’m here.” I think back to earlier in the day. Y/N looked so happy talking about Isla and Sage. I can’t be second place in another person’s life. 

Y/N POV

Brittany has been texting you about Hazel since yesterday, trying to get you to come out with them tonight. So when she calls you on Saturday morning you immediately pick up. 

“PLEASE babe it’ll be so much fun. You literally live in the same house as her, you can carpool! And Hazel doesn’t drink she can be your DD. I know you want to come out, just do it! You deserve a night out, pleeaaase” 

“Okay okay fine. But I’m coming for you. It’s been like a week since we saw each other and I’m literally dying because of it.” 

“YES oh my god - PJ SHES COMING!” You hear her yell off into their shared apartment. 

“Tell her to wear something tight and short!” PJs voice is distant but clear.

“PJ says-“

“Yeah I heard. God she’s ridiculous. I’ll see you tonight. I don’t know if Hazel’s up yet but I’ll ask her to drive me”

[shiorimakibawrites]

Rollercoaster (Part 16 of Alley Cat)

Image Credit:  kissmegoodbye.net / Nathan Dumlao / Amber Kipp

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 6808

Summary: Matt's attempts to relax after work are marred by worries. It's a night of ups and downs for both of you. Continuation of Part 15 - The Interrogation

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, swearing, emotional rollercoaster, referenced sex, referenced sexual harassment, referenced police misconduct, stress, anxiety, referenced hallucinations, rough kiss, forehead kiss

Alley Cat Masterlist

Matt Murdock Masterlist

My General Masterlist

Tags:@loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @bellaxgiornata, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

Also posted on AO3

Part 16 - Rollercoaster

Matt stretched his arms over his head. His muscles and joints complained loudly about how long he had been sitting at his desk today. But it couldn’t be helped. Shortly after lunch, he had discovered that Burke & Winthrop had filed even more motions in the Al-Farsi case. Most matched their usual pattern of almost but not quite frivolous but a couple had tripped over that particular line.

Big mistake, Matt thought with a smile. It probably wasn’t a nice smile. He was feeling the same vicious pleasure that he always did when he had someone on the ropes.

“Wow, whose getting their ass kicked this time?”

Foggy, standing in the door of his office, sounding cheerful despite the long day they both had. Karen had already left for the day. She said something about a lead she wanted to check out for a case she was sharing with Jessica. They had been working together a lot lately . . .

“What makes you think I’m kicking someone’s ass?” he asked.

“I know that smile, buddy,” Foggy said. “You’ve scented blood. So who’s the unlucky bastard, this time?”

“Burke & Winthrop,” Matt said. “You know how Justice Watanabe just warned them about their motion practice?”

“Yeah?” Foggy asked, growing excitement in his voice. “Did they ignore his warning?”

“They did,” Matt confirmed.

“Bad move,” Foggy said with a certain amount of relish. He knew well as Matt did that Justice Watanabe was a very serious, no nonsense judge. He didn’t make idle threats – if he told you he was going to sanction you for doing something, he was going to sanction you. Nor was he going to appreciate the inherent disrespect of having his instructions blatantly ignored like this. Rule 11 sanctions weren’t a guarantee – there was still time for Burke & Winthrop to withdraw the offending motions or modify them just enough to make them acceptable. But they might not and since Justice Watanabe had already warned them, it might not really matter if they do . . . still just a possibility but it was sweet.

“Wanna go to Josie’s?”

Matt considered the offer. It sounded good. He had done everything he could today. You were working – your message said you were even planning to continue working from home after you ate dinner. He hadn’t hung with his friends in a while . . . especially just him and Foggy.

“Sure, Fogs,” he said. “Will Karen and Jessica be joining us?”

“Nah,” Foggy said. Matt could hear the smile in his voice. “Just us avocados tonight.”

“We’re not just avocados, Foggy,” Matt teased. “We’re the best avocados in this city, remember?”

Foggy laughed. “Damn straight. But right now, this avocado needs a beer.”

It didn’t take them long to close up the office and make their way over to Josie’s. The bar had just the right amount of crowd tonight. Big enough to make the place feel lively without making it crowded. Or so loud that he had to cut the outing short before he developed a migraine. The conversation and laughter that filled the bar buffed up against him like a gentle wave. Something he was aware of but could largely ignore. He still held his white cane in his hand but there were enough other regulars in the crowd that he didn’t really need it to get a path cleared to the bar.

“Murdock, Nelson,” Josie greeted them with mock gruffness. He heard the thunk of two glasses hitting the bar and sliding toward them. He recognized the distinctive mixture of sour-sweet-bitter that made up the bar’s brand of draft beer.

“Josie, you are a saint,” Foggy said, grabbing his beer and taking a big gulp before he even tried to sit down. Matt couldn’t blame him. Neither had them had lucked out with opposing counsel today. Matt had gotten Burke & Winthrop. Foggy had Nigel Norwood from Norwood & Sons.

Norwood had been their classmate at Columbia. He didn’t like Matt but he seemed to loathe Foggy in particular. Neither of them had any idea why. Might have been pure snobbishness. Maybe the grandson of a US Senator, scion of a wealthy and prominent New York family hadn’t liked sharing a classroom with the son of a shopkeeper and a public school teacher. They knew that he hadn’t liked getting thoroughly trounced in mock trial by said son. Or that he hadn’t done much better against Foggy in real court cases. Maybe he didn’t like Foggy’s popularity with girls.

For all that Foggy complained about Matt getting all the pretty girls, Foggy had his fair share of admirers. Matt had found himself sexiled to the library several times while they were roommates.

Regardless of the reason, the end result was that Norwood was just as much of a headache as Burke & Winthrop in his own way. Anyone would need a beer after a day like that.

“Save it for your girlfriend, Nelson,” Josie retorted with equally feign annoyance. Matt could tell that she was actually pleased. The banter might have continued but another patron called for her attention and she walked away.

“Speaking of which,” Matt said, folding up his cane and sliding onto a stool. “Where is the lovely Ms. Stahl?”

“Work,” Foggy answered, getting onto his own stool. “Her trial date got moved up and the judge wants the briefing done yesterday.”

Matt made a sympathetic noise. They had all been there. Judges could be impatient like that. He hadn’t forgotten the time their Crim Law professor had her lecture interrupted by a judge who wanted to hear oral arguments on a motion to suppress right then and there. Knowing full well that trying to argue with the judge about his timing would just hurt her case, the professor had just rolled with it. And immediately turned it into a learning opportunity for the class, after getting permission to put the call on speaker phone.

He sipped his beer and wondered if the case you were working on was Marci’s. It was possible. You both worked for the same firm. You had worked as Marci’s paralegal previously. On the other hand, Lee, Everett & Kirby wasn’t exactly small. And there were hundreds of cases on the docket in this city. It could just as easily be a coincidence.

“She was very disappointed,” Foggy continued. “Said that she could really use a beer right now.”

“The changed dates stressed her that much?” Matt asked, frowning. That didn’t sound like Marci. Usually, she thrived under that kind of pressure.

Foggy snorted, “Of course not. She’s fine with that. It’s the new case that she just got assigned to. Or rather it’s who got assigned as her co-counsel on that case.”

“Creepy Asshole?”

“Creepy Asshole,” Foggy confirmed. He didn’t sound happy about it.

Matt scowled. He wasn’t happy about that either. According to Marci, Creepy Asshole was a coworker who treated her like an idiot and never looked higher than her breasts. He had hit on her a few times, through not recently. Apparently he behaved this way toward every woman at the firm but had some kind of connection to the partners that protected him for getting fired. That and he was smart enough to avoid doing and saying anything truly outrageous in front of witnesses.

Marci wouldn’t tell them the man’s name, claiming they might do something dramatic. Like what happened to that guy who had groped her in the library during undergrad. He and Foggy had protested that it was all an accident. Foggy hadn’t mentioned that those bushes said classmate was walking by had very sharp thorns. And Matt certainly hadn’t tripped him with his cane into those bushes. Honest.

That other classmates who exhibited similarly unacceptable behavior had equally bad luck with the topiary around them was sheer coincidence.

Marci hadn’t believe them then and she still didn’t. But not even the solemn vow that Creepy Asshole would have no unfortunate encounters with any plants (through he might have one with the devil) would convince Marci to give them a name.

“I know,” Foggy said, sounding as frustrated as he felt. “Let’s change the subject before I talk myself into borrowing certain items from your apartment. Where’s your new lady tonight?”

“Also working” Matt said. “Her court dates got moved up too.”

Foggy’s hum of acknowledgment was accompanied by the soft swish of hair. Softer than it used to be – Matt still wasn’t entirely used to Foggy’s hair being shorter than his shoulders. Along with other equally quiet sounds and tiny changes in the surrounding air that meant someone was nodding. “You planning on seeing her again?”

It was too easy. “Can’t. I’m blind, remember?”

An irritated huff of air. “I’m giving you a dirty look. You know perfectly well what I meant!”

“You walked right into that one, buddy,” Matt pointed out immediately. “But to answer your question, yes, I am planning to see her again.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“She makes a very good cake,” Foggy said, sounding almost serious. “And she has already paid us a retainer. Do I need to remind you that we need at least some paying clients?”

“No,” Matt said. “You don’t need to repeat your ‘Con Ed Does Not Accept Bananas’ speech.”

“Hey, don’t knock my bananas speech. It’s very convincing.”

“It is,” Matt said. “I agreed to the sliding scale, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Foggy said. “Despite your bleeding heart.”

“My bleeding heart? I believe it was you who agreed to take the Lincoln case pro bono.

Matt thought that Foggy might be giving him another dirty look. “Don’t act like you weren’t marshaling your arguments for why we had to take that case!”

He smirked. “Didn’t need to. I knew we were going to take that case from the moment Mr. Lincoln walked in our door.”

Foggy grumbled but rather tellingly didn’t argue. Mr. Lincoln had come to them because his landlord was trying to evict him for getting a guide dog, citing the building’s no pets policy. Which didn’t apply to service animals like Cedar. The landlord was probably banking on Mr. Lincoln either not knowing that or lacking the resources to fight it. Unfortunately for the landlord, Nelson & Murdock (for obvious reasons) took a rather dim view on disability discrimination.

Talk quickly turned away from work. Foggy shared the latest Nelson family gossip – who was getting married, which of his cousins was having (another) baby, how one of his little cousins had broken his arm attempting to jump from the roof onto a trampoline and how a different little cousin had gotten her brand-new pink dress covered in duckweed up to the waist while catching frogs . . .

The updates from Maggie had been almost staid by comparison. The teens had stolen some bottles of communion wine and attempted to get themselves drunk off of it. A black cat whose white markings made it look like it was wearing a priest’s collar had effectively moved into the church. Between its appearance and that its favorite napping spots being the pulpit and the confessional booth, the kids had taken to calling it Father Meow. Thankfully, Father Tomas took the cat’s habit of meowing loudly during certain amount of Mass and the resulting giggles in stride.

A home safe message from you still hadn’t arrived by the time Matt was finishing his beer but he wasn’t worried. Not yet. It didn’t normally take you this long to get home but you weren’t actually late. Not yet. There was no reason to worry yet. Maybe the subway was running slow today. Or you had decided to stop for take-out instead of cooking tonight. Or needed to run an errand like grabbing some milk or picking up the dry cleaning. He wasn’t worried.

Foggy finished his own beer – he had slowed down after that first big gulp – and from the sounds of the stool creaking, had shifted to look around.

“Looks like one of the pool tables is opening up,” Foggy said. “Wanna play?”

“Sure,” Matt said, eager to give his mind something to focus on. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was fine.

He played a couple games of pool. He drank a second beer. He engaged in playful banter with Foggy about food that ranged whether pineapple belonged on pizza to best foods. They agreed to disagree on the first (again). For the latter, Foggy’s champion was his grandmother’s chocolate cake (“You can’t even taste the sauerkraut!” / “Maybe you can’t.”) but Matt remained devoted to his dad’s stew (even if making it was always bittersweet and sometimes downright painful).

And the entire time his phone remained still and silent.

It was unlikely that he had missed the notification chime but he checked anyway. Not a single missed call, unheard voice mail, or unread text message . . . . you should have gotten home by now . . .

Fear began to blossom in his chest as he called you even as he tried to tell himself that he was worrying about nothing . . . maybe you had simply run into a friend and lost track of time. Lord knew he and Foggy could talk for hours without realizing how much time had passed . . .

The phone rang and rang but the only answer was a computer saying ‘Hello, you have reached the phone of . . .’

He left a message, tried to play off his concern by teasingly asking you if you somehow managed to end up in Queens. Again. It had been long enough . . .

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and returned his attention to the pool table. But he couldn’t concentrate on it . . . his mind was on his all too quiet phone . . . on sitting on the urge to go home, grab his burner and ask the spider kid if he had met any lost paralegals tonight even if that was bound to make the other vigilante curious . . .

“What’s wrong?” Foggy asked, his heartbeat shifting into its worried rhythm. He lowered his voice before continuing, “Are you hearing something that needs Daredevil?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Matt said and explained the situation.

“She’s probably fine,” Foggy said but his heart gave away the lie. He wasn’t convinced of that either. Even if you had decided to walk the entire way from the Upper East Side, you ought to be home by now. “You just called her . . . let’s give her a few more minutes to call back.”

Matt agreed and waited, trying not to think about all the ways you could be not fine . . . He wasn’t very successful, the vicious part of his imagination conjuring all of the evils that could have befallen you . . . those awful moments when someone he cared about (loved) heartbeat sputtered to a stop . . . St. Patrick, I beseech thee to protect . . .

You didn’t call back. Matt called again but as before, you didn’t answer. He left another message but couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice this time. As the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow . . . he picked at the label on the empty beer bottle and listened. Not to his phone but beyond . . . training his ears toward your apartment. Hoping that you were there. If you were simply ignoring him, it would hurt but at least you’d be alive . . . but what if you had some kind of accident and couldn’t reach your phone? Had you been lying on the floor of your apartment, in terrible pain, hoping he’d heard your cries for help?

But the only heartbeat he found in your apartment belonged to Houdini. He couldn’t heard that distinctive rhythm anywhere in your building . . .

A hand grabbing his shoulder shattered his concentration. The sounds of the city rose and threatened to drown him in a roaring river of noise. But that was a war that Matt had been fighting since he was nine. He hadn’t lost a battle in a while. He regained control and within it, recognized the hand gripping his shoulder. Along with increasing frantic voice that went with it. Foggy.

“-can hear me? Matt!”

“I can hear you,” Matt said. He tried not to be irritated at his best friend. Foggy had good reason to worry when Matt didn’t appear to be responding to sound. He had only discovered Matt like that once but apparently that was enough to get it permanently etched in Foggy’s mind.

“Did your hearing get wonky again?”

“No,” he said. “Just the opposite. I was trying to see if she was in her apartment or not.”

“Josie’s is close enough to her place that you can do that?” Foggy asked. He sounded surprised. Even after all this time and their many heart-to-hearts after their reconciliation, the extent of Matt’s senses still surprised him.

“Yes,” Matt said. “Just takes a little concentration.”

“Show off,” Foggy said. “So is she there?’

“No.”

“Alright, let’s start looking,” Foggy said, his hand sliding off Matt’s shoulder and into his pocket. He pulled something out – probably his phone. “First things first, let’s see if she ever actually left the office. She works at Lee, Everett & Kirby, right?”

Matt nodded.

“Would Marci know her?”

“She ought to,” Matt said. “She’s been Marci’s paralegal more than once.”

“Good,” Foggy said and did something on his phone. Calling someone as it began to ring . . then the familiar voice of Marci said, “Yes, Foggy Bear?”

“Hey Marci,” Foggy said, doing his best to sound casual and not worried as he asked if she knew if you had left the office today.

“How do you know my paralegal?” Marci demanded.

“I’m her attorney.”

“Why –”

“I’ll explain later,” Foggy cut her off. “She sent Matt a message two hours ago saying she was heading home and would text when she arrived but we haven’t heard anything since and she isn’t answering her phone. Is she still at the office?”

Marci made an irritated noise at being interrupted but answered the question. “Not as far as I know. I didn’t see her actually left this room but all of her things are gone . . . hang on, let me check if anyone saw her leave.”

He did his best to sit on his impatience while Marci asked a few colleagues if they had seen you . . . no, no, no, finally one said yes. They had been at the front desk and saw you walk out of the door, your briefcase in hand just over two hours ago.

“Thanks Marci, you’ve been very helpful,” Foggy said and hung up the phone before Marci could ask him any questions. “I’m going to pay for that later . . . Do you have any of her friends’ numbers?”

“No.” Something that he planned to rectify as soon as possible.

“Family? Could she have decided to to see one of them?”

“No,” Matt said, then shook his head. “And not easily. None of them live in New York . . . I think the sister is the closest. Somewhere in Massachusetts.”

However Foggy would have responded to that was cut off by his phone ringing. “Probably Marci to yell at me . . . no wait, that’s Brett. Why is he calling . . . Hello?”

“Nelson, are you and Murdock in New Jersey or something?”

Matt frowned in confusion. What?

“Noooo . . . why?” Foggy said, sounding as confused by the question as Matt felt.

“Because your client asked for you over an hour ago and your ugly mug still hasn’t shown up.”

“What?!” Both of them exclaimed.

“Didn’t you get a call?” There was a frown in Mahoney’s voice, a note of suspicion.

“Obviously not,” Foggy snapped. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

He hung up and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “I think we might have found your girlfriend.”

“Quite possibly,” Matt agreed. Even if it wasn’t you, none of their clients deserved to have been left in interrogation for so long. Especially with detectives who seemed to be outright ignoring their right to counsel. “Let’s go.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Your legs were so wobbly that Matt almost had to carry you. He had offered. It had been tempting to agree. Very tempting. You had been brave. You had been strong. A not insignificant part of you didn’t want to be either of those things for a while. That part would have been perfectly fine with Matt carrying you around, face burrowed against his chest until you felt better. Or it was tomorrow and you had to face the world regardless. Whichever came first.

But another part of you was angry. Not at Foggy or Matt. You were confident that they hadn’t just left you there, that they had come as soon as they could. But at the detectives for making you feel so helpless and alone, for ignoring your repeated demands to see your attorney like you hadn’t said anything of the sort . . . the near certainty that they had done that to someone else and likely would again . . .

That anger was just a spark right now. Later, when you were feeling less tired and stressed, you were going be furious. But right now, all that anger could accomplish was making you insist on walking. Matt didn’t argue or even get snippy about your tone. Just took as much of your weight as you allowed and helped you walk over to the couch. He eased you both down onto the couch. You kicked off your heels and pulled your legs up, curling against his side. As close as you could get without actually crawling into his lap.

Which you had considered but decided against it. You had displayed enough embarrassing behavior for one night, thank you very much.

Not that Matt seemed to mind your neediness, curling his arm around your shoulders and encouraging you to rest your head on his shoulder. Which you did. The last tears were trickling down your face. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Let it slowly. Then another and another. You needed to get level, to be calm. There were things you needed to do before you could call it a day.

But those things would have wait another minute. Or ten. You could hear Foggy moving around, doing something that involved running water but Matt didn’t seemed concerned and it was his apartment . . . so you ignored those sounds in favor of listening to the soft nonsense Matt was murmuring into your hair and taking deep breaths.

You didn’t know how long you sat like that before you heard Foggy softly call your name from nearby. You crackled open an eye and saw him standing to the side of coffee table, holding out something for you. A washcloth.

You must have looked confused because he explained. “Don’t know about you but my eyes always hurt after crying like that. Especially after a long day staring at computer screens. A wet washcloth usually helps them feel better.”

Now that he mentioned it, your eyes did feel a little sore. And more than a little gritty. It couldn’t hurt. You took the washcloth and laid it across your closed eyes. Foggy was right. The coolness felt immediately soothing. “Thank you Foggy. That does help.”

“No problem,” he said with a rustle of clothing and footsteps. “Your tea should be done seeping soon and our food should be here in the next ten minutes.”

“Tea?” You repeated and sniffed the air. You could smell something vaguely herbal but a stronger and more familiar scent was also filling the air, along with a very familiar sound. “I smell coffee.”

“Wow, you two are already copying each other’s sentences?” Foggy teased. “I made the coffee mostly for me and Matt. If you want a cup, I won’t stop you but something without caffeine might be better after all that stress.”

It probably was. You did feel jittery. But you might get a cup of the coffee anyway. Even if you didn’t drink most of it, the warmth and aroma alone was comforting.

“What kind of tea?”

“Don’t know. Braille label just has ‘go to fucking sleep’ on it.”

“It does not,” Matt said. “It says ‘can’t sleep tea.’”

“I was paraphrasing,” Foggy countered. “Since I am positive that ‘can’t sleep’ in Matthew Murdock translates as ‘I haven’t sleep in a week’ to us non-ninjas.”

“I’ve never gone a week without sleep,” Matt argued. “Humans physically can’t stay awake that long.”

“True,” Foggy conceded before adding, “But I distinctively remember spring finals in our freshmen year. You went without sleep long enough to start hallucinating.”

“I wasn’t hallucinating,” Matt protested.

“You said, and I quote, ‘This dorm is a hive. Filled with bees. Buzz.’ Then kept saying buzz over and over again until I slapped my hand over your mouth. Then you licked my hand, Matthew.”

“You licked my hand first.”

“Objection! When did I allegedly lick your hand?”

“When you got drunk at that frat party and got it into your head to serenade that girl from your Punjabi class. At three in the morning. I was trying to shut you up before she threw something heavier than a slipper at you.”

You laughed. Which was probably their goal all long judging by how pleased they looked with themselves when you peeked out from behind the washcloth. The laughter felt good, releasing a tension that you hadn’t realized that you were carrying. You were still giggling when Foggy returned to living room and held out a mug to you. You took it and breathed it in. It might not have been coffee but the warmth seeping into your hands felt nice and it smelled good.

“All joking aside,” you said, looking up at Matt. “What’s in this tea?”

“Mostly chamomile and lavender,” he answered.

“That’s all it takes when you can’t sleep? A cup of flowery tea?” You asked, feeling more than a little jealous. Your insomnia was never so easily defeated . . .

“Not quite,” Matt said. “That’s just part of how I try to relax when I can’t sleep.”

There was the faintest suggestion of a blush dusting his cheeks and the tip of his ears. Which was both adorable and made you powerfully curious. What could make this man blush? Even just a little? He seemed so shameless. Especially last night when he was encouraging you to moan or praising how well you were taking his cock . . .

You felt your face flush at the memory and the accompanying urge to squirm. Then flushed even more when Matt’s head tilted slightly toward you and that knowing smirk starting to form. To distract yourself away from such thoughts before you got (more) worked up, you turned your gaze to the mug in your hands. There wasn’t much to distract your eye. The tea didn’t look much different from black tea other than a little lighter in color and the mug wasn’t decorated beyond being a nice shade of yellow.

You raised the mug to your lips and sipped the tea. The taste was mild, slightly sweet but not sugary. It wasn’t going to replace your beloved coffee anytime soon but you wouldn’t object to being offered another cup in the future. But you couldn’t resist the urge to look at Matt for long.

His mug didn’t match yours. It was white with a stylized drawing of two halved avocados and something written in braille underneath. If you had to guess, it probably said the same thing as the green lettering above it – Best Damn Avocados. Like one of those #1 Dad mugs. Looking closer, you realized that the line art of the avocados was raised. A look over at Foggy showed him drinking out an identical mug.

You found yourself feeling curious again. Those mugs looked something that had been custom-made. Did they really like avocados? You liked avocados too but not enough to get a custom mug. There was probably a story there but before you could ask, there was a knock on the door. Foggy put down his mug and went to the door. You heard the soft murmur of conversation before Foggy came back with a box with the name of local pizzeria in his hands.

The tantalizing aroma of fresh pizza filled the apartment. It made your mouth water. More embarrassingly, your stomach decided to remind everyone that you had missed dinner. Blood returned to your cheeks.

“Hungry?” Matt asked with a little amused smile.

“A little,” you answered ruefully as Foggy walked over with two plates in his hands. Pepperoni. A good choice. You had been expanding your palette since moving to New York but on bad days, you gravitated toward familiar things with happy memories attached to it. Like pepperoni pizza. Even if this hand-tossed crust with its classic leopard spotting was a far cry from the chain-restaurant or freezer section pizza of your childhood.

You must have been hungrier than you thought. You practically inhaled that first slice of pizza. Foggy offered to get you another slice but you quickly said no. He had only just sat down and barely gotten a bite of his own slice. You would get another one yourself. Your legs weren’t entirely on board with this plan. You stood and for a heart-stopping moment, they refused to take your weight.

You started to fall back. But then Matt was there, steadying you with one hand braced against your back, the other on your hip.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he gently chided. “I don’t think any of us wants to add a trip to the ER tonight.”

“Sure you don’t want me to get that pizza?” Foggy asked. He had half raisen from his chair.

“I’m sure,” you said. You reached down and wrapped your hand around Matt’s hand on your hip. You gave it a little squeeze. “I’m fine.”

The hand gave a squeeze of its own to your hip but he didn’t try to stop you from putting your weight back on your legs. This time they held. Matt’s hands slide off of your body with obvious reluctance as you moved toward the kitchen box and the waiting box of pizza. You got your second slice and returned to your previous spot on the couch.

This time you ate more slowly. You had been meaning to try this pizzeria – you walked by it on the way to work and it always smelled good – but hadn’t gotten around to it. It didn’t take long to realize that you should have listened to your nose. It was really good, much better than some of the other places you had tried. From now, you decided, you were getting your pizza from Slice of Life.

You felt a lot better now. The tasks ahead of you that have previously seemed so dauntingly felt manageable. Knowing this second wind wasn’t going to last forever, you cleared your throat and said, “We should probably get started on business.”

Both men seemed to study you for a minute, Matt with his listening closely pose and Foggy with shrewd eyes. But after that minute, both men nodded. Foggy took out a legal pad and pen from his satchel.

You had opened your mouth to begin when Foggy’s phone gave out a loud thrum. It wasn’t the first time the phone had buzzed at him. It had done so several times while you were eating. But each time, Foggy had looked at the call ID and declined the call. This time, however, he fumbled the phone and ended up answering. On speaker phone to boot because you heard a familiar voice all but growl, “Franklin.”

You winced. You recognized that tone. It had never been directed at you but you knew what it meant. Marci Stahl was out for blood.

“Hey Marci,” Foggy said with forced cheerfulness. It was obvious from the look on his face that he knew he was in hot water.

“Do. Not,” she hissed. “‘Hey Marci’ me, Franklin Nelson. I want to know what the hell is going on. Right now!”

After a quick glance at you for permission – Foggy explain the situation. Only in the broad strokes, omitting certain details. Like you had seen Daredevil more than once. And that Matt was the vigilante in question. Listening to his explanation answered a couple of your own questions – Marci was not in on the secret (yet) and how they had learned about the interrogation. Apparently there was at least one detective at that precinct who remembered that things like access to your legal counsel was a right, not a suggestion. Good to know.

“I see,” Marci said after Foggy had finished talking. She sounded more thoughtful than angry now. Which was a relief. “One question.”

“Fire away,” Foggy said as you raised your mug to drink the last of your tea.

“Murdock, are you fucking my paralegal?”

You managed – just barely – not to spray tea all over Matt’s coffee table or dribble it down your shirt. You also avoided chocking on it. Still, you were sputtering and your face felt like it was on fire.

“Ms. Stahl!” you protested.

“That sounds like a yes,” Marci said. “And call me Marci if you are dating Murdock. You are dating right, not just fucking?”

It wasn’t possible to die of embarrassment. Otherwise Jo would have killed you years ago. But sometimes, you thought as you buried your face in your hands, I really wished that it would.

You jumped a little when a hand gripped your knee. You peered through your fingers and saw it was Matt. Who squeezed your knee and sent you a reassuring smile before he answered Marci.

“Yes, Marci, we’re dating.”

“I thought so.”

“Why?” Matt looked genuinely curious. And if you were being honest, you were more than a little curious yourself about that answer.

“That hickey on her neck. You usually aren’t possessive enough of a one-night stand to mark them up like that.”

“Huh,” Foggy said slowly, looking he was mentally reviewing his memory. “I think she’s right.”

“I think you’ll find that I’m always right, Foggy Bear.”

Foggy Bear? That was unexpectedly cute. It also didn’t escape your notice that this was the second person to mention that hickey to you. It seemed your attempt at cover-up was even worse than you thought. Granted, both parties were rather observant people.

Still . . .

“Is there anything else I should be aware?” Marci asked.

“I had work product and similar confidential materials for the Rosenberg-Kowalski case in my briefcase,” you said. “So I refused to unlock it for police when they frisked me. They threatened to get a warrant for the contents.”

“They aren’t very likely to get one. Or a subpoena for that matter,” Marci pointed out.

“I know that,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean that they aren’t going to try. And I assume that you wouldn’t appreciate being caught unaware by such an attempt.”

“You assume correctly,” Marci said. “I’ll watch out for it. Which detectives from which precinct?”

“Tim Vaughn and Darla Reynolds with the 15th Precinct.”

Marci repeated the information in a way that suggested that she was writing that down. Then, after a brief conversation with Foggy, she said good-bye and hung up.

“Okay,” Foggy said, picking up his pen. “Let’s go over exactly what happened.”

You took a deep breathe. Then you started describing what happened, doing your best to remain calm. But when you got to the moment when you tried to get out your phone, your heart began to race with remembered fear. You felt Matt’s leg, pressed up against yours, became rigid.

“He threatened you with a gun?” Matt asked, his voice dark with growing anger. You looked over at him, saw the hands clenched tightly into fists. Then the muscles shifted under his clothes, like he was preparing to stand up. You knew with a visceral certainty that you couldn’t let him do that. If he stood up, he would make a beeline for the Daredevil suit. Assuming he even bothered stopping to grab his armor before darting out the window . . .

Your mind raced, trying to come up with something, anything, to convince him to stay where he was . . . You reached for him, cupping his face in your hands. Gently but firmly you encouraged him to turn his head to face you. Away from where you assumed he had hidden the Daredevil suit.

Once again, you were struck by how beautiful he looked like this. That naked rage blazing in his eyes should have been scary. And while you couldn’t say that it wasn’t intimidating, fear wasn’t your body’s overwhelming reaction.

No, you thought, feeling the wet heat building between your legs. Not fear at all.

His nostrils flared. Then his brow furrowed with the first hint of confusion. It was an opening. You massaged his cheeks with your thumbs. “Orange isn’t your color, baby.”

“He threatened you with a gun.”

“He never even drew the gun from its holster,” you pointed out mildly but his body remained rigid, his eyes filled with anger . . . and fear, you realized with a jolt. He was frightened. And like most men, he was channeling that fear into anger . . .

That give you an idea. It was risky but . . . Not wanting to give yourself time to talk yourself out of it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. He didn’t respond at first. Long enough that you felt the first stirring of panic. Had you just ruined everything . . . but then you felt his mouth soften.

He started kissing you back, his hands raising to cradle your head as he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t a gentle, loving kiss. You didn’t expected it to be. You didn’t want it to be. You wanted him to turn that rage and its underlying fear into passion. And he did, biting and lapping into your mouth with a fierce intensity that left you breathless. Moaning, you didn’t resist as his hands slide down your back and started to tug you into his lap . . .

A sharp whistle pierced the air, startling you. You reeled back from Matt, almost falling off the couch. Where – ?

“Oi, lovebirds!”

Foggy, still lowering his hand from the whistle and looking rather disgusted with both of you. Embarrassment brought a fresh wave of warmth to your face. You had forgotten he was there. At least you weren’t alone in that particular boat. When you risked a glance at Matt, he had the same flushed, vaguely guilty expression on his face that you were pretty sure was gracing yours.

You forced yourself to look away. Before you got too distracted by his kiss-swollen mouth. Or mussed hair. Or . . . You sat up straight and did your best to ignore the empty ache in your cunt. Now really wasn’t the time.

“Can I trust you two to keep everything rated G until I leave?”

“Sorry Fogs. We’ll be good.”

You echoed that agreement.

Foggy looked skeptical but after a moment, gestured for you to continue your story. You did. Matt and Foggy both asked a few clarifying questions. Neither knew what to make of your observations about Reynolds. Matt added that she had smelled like stress, even more than usual for a cop. Still, it was possible that that what was going on was exactly how it appeared to be – a fishing expedition by a couple of overzealous detectives. But it was also possible there was something else going on. There just wasn’t enough information to be know either way. You’d all have to wait and see.

It wasn’t an answer that pleased any of you but it was what it was.

Matt walked you home. By the time you arrived, your second wind was fading fast. Maybe Matt’s sleepy tea was finally catching up with you. But maybe it was just this emotional rollercoaster of a day . . . Either way, you were practically asleep on your feet.

But you had a meowing cat at your feet who, understandably, wanted his dinner. Any dinner, as blurry eyed look showed that all of his bowls were empty. Even his water. Poor kitty. He deserved a much better human friend than you. You started to shuffle toward the cat food but Matt stopped you.

“Get ready for bed, sweetheart. I’ll feed Houdini for you.”

That sounded like a fantastic idea. You loved your cat but you were just so tired . . . You agreed and turned toward your bedroom. You paid very little attention to what you pulled out of the drawer for sleepwear. At this point, as long as it was clean and didn’t itch, you didn’t care what you were wearing. All you cared about was the siren’s call of your nice, comfortable bed with its fluffy pillows and soft blanket . . .

You were just awake enough to notice the warm, furry body joining you in the bed, tucking himself under your chin with a purr. Dimly, you noticed that he smelled like potting soil but you couldn’t remember why that was problem . . .

Just before everything faded away, you felt soft lips press against your forehead and deep voice say, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Ending Notes:

This chapter’s working title was “Debrief” but given both Matt and Reader go through a bit of an emotional rollercoaster in this chapter, I changed it.

On the ropes is an expression from boxing from where someone is being forced up against the ropes by an opponent’s attack. That someone is usually losing and will have difficulty getting back on the offensive. It used in common parlance to mean that someone is very near to giving up or being defeated.

Rule 11 is (Federal?) Rule of Civil Procedure 11 provides that a district court may sanction attorney or parties who submit pleadings for an improper purpose or that contain frivolous arguments or arguments that have no evidentiary support. Basically, if I’m understanding this right, do not waste the court’s time with utter nonsense. These sanctions is usually a monetary fee.

In addition to being a mobility aid, the white cane can also be used an identifier. Mostly so others know to give the blind person (and possibility the person guiding them, if they are being guided by a sighted person) enough room to walk safely.

Sexiled is a slang term for being banished by one’s roommate from the room/dorm/apartment so said roommate can have sex with their significant other with relative privacy.

Crim Law is a shortened form of Criminal Law.

The professor being called by the judge in the middle of class is an adaptation of a story that an attorney shared during a podcast about having to give arguments over the phone while on a beach dressed in swim trunks.

Con Ed is Consolidated Edison Inc is a utility providing electric and gas service in New York City as well as steam service in Manhattan.

Mr. Lincoln is a nod to Willie Lincoln, a minor character in the Daredevil comic who is a blind African American veteran.

As far as I know, that thing about the guide dog is true, provided the dog isn’t aggressive toward other tenants.

The broken arm thing is something that my younger sibling did when they were about ten.

Duckweed is a common name for aquatic plants that float on or just beneath the surface of still or slow-moving bodies of fresh water like a pond. Through the algae is might also be getting that dress dirty.

Pineapple on pizza is the subject sometimes rather serious debate. I have no strong opinions on the matter – generally I think the people who are eating that particular pizza are the only ones whose opinion of the toppings matter.

Chocolate Sauerkraut Cake is really a thing. I first encountered the concept in a video by B. Dylan Hollis on YouTube. Apparently, if made right, you cannot taste the sauerkraut but I think I’ll just stick with coconut for that texture.

Jack’s stew is an Irish-style stew with beef, potatoes, carrots, onions, and turnips stewed in beef stock and Guinness beer. Traditionally the stew is made with lamb, potatoes, onions, and water but like many common dishes, every family has their own version. Jack made it like his mother did with exception of using beef instead of lamb or mutton because the latter two tend to be more expensive than beef in the US.

Walking from Upper East Side to Hell’s Kitchen would take at least an hour, according to Google maps.

St. Patrick, in addition to being the patron saint of Ireland, is also the patron saint of paralegals. But I’m not Catholic so don’t quote me on that.

Chamomile and lavender are supposed be relaxing. Separately or together, they often are ingredients in calming and bedtime teas.

Leopard spotting on pizza is caused when the dough is fermenting in a cold environment which causes a lot of air bubbles to form and the intense heat of the oven makes those bubbles super pronounced, creating leopard-liked spotting.

Slice of Life is not, as far as I know, a real restaurant.

G Rating is one of the film ratings given out by the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America), meaning for general audience. It is supposed to be suitable for young children with no violence, offensive language, or sexual activity.

[vigilskeep]

not sure if anyone has asked you this before but do you have any josephine headcanons you want to share?

gets viciously sea-sick and is hugely embarrassed about this due to her family’s history as seafaring merchants

the background dialogue implies she gets along well with solas and that’s interesting to me. of course our diplomat would ace a fairytale situation where a powerful guest arrives in humble disguises. i think they should be having their equivalent of verbal chess matches too. it makes me wonder if josie has any history with apostates (i suppose her familiarity with court enchanters accounts for a lot of her ease) though it’s clearly also his political ability she respects and i’m fascinated by what conclusions she must have drawn

very fastidious when it comes to cleanliness. in a medieval way, of course. she does things like carry a pomander and she always smells of perfumes and spices

since the end of her short-lived bard career, may have slightly ignored the “accomplishments” and the arts expected of a noblewoman in preference for her political acumen. loves music but hasn’t practised any herself in years

i expect a certain buried resentment for her parents when she’s doing so much to salvage her family’s fortunes and rein in her younger siblings and is struggling to do both at the same time, unable to be in two places at once. why is the heir in her 20s trying to handle both these things and not them

prefers orlais to antiva, despite the relative cold

observes the many and varied holidays of thedas with efficiency and precision

uuuuuuuuum. i think she’d really enjoy macbeth

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Honey Bun (18+ Series)

(Aaron Hotchner x Stripper!Reader)

Part 1 // MINORS DNI

This first part is dedicated to @ssahotstuff for inspiring me <3 and to @hausofwhores who I first talked to about my idea hehe <3 <3

WC: 2.1k Words

Song Inspo: Gold Satin Dreamer - Nicole Dollanganger

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, bit of an age gap (placing reader at around 25-26), cursing, alcohol consumption, formalized sex work (Stripper/Pole Dancer), occasional angst, drama, and that's all I can think of rn but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Short and sweet intro! Things are gonna get very uhhh interesting from here on out ;) Enjoy some flirty Hotch, let me know your thoughts on this first part! I'm super excited to be writing this!!!! :)

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“Need a little sugar in your life, gentlemen? Well, get ready to make it rain on our sweetest girl, Honey Bun! Just remember, you may feast your eyes, but no touching!”

—————

Thursdays weren’t always so busy. Sure, there were a couple of party animals who liked to start the weekend early, but rarely at such capacity. 

At least you were glad that Josephine was working with you that night. She made busy nights at the Duchess Tavern much more bearable. When you first started working there, she immediately took you under her wing, teaching you all the ropes. 

She had a certain matronly quality about her — probably attributed to the fact she was twenty years older than you — but she was a real tough cookie, too. On countless occasions, she’d helped you deal with rowdy customers and drunk assholes. She rarely ever needed help from the bouncers to break bar fights, she cursed like a sailor, and she also made the meanest Long Island Iced Tea you’d ever had. 

You were certain that if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have lasted a week being a bartender.

“You’re lucky you’re off on weekends,” Josephine said as she poured a row of shots for a group of college-aged girls. “This here is light work compared to a Saturday night.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll be getting a lot of rest…” you countered. “Dealing with the same sort of customers, too.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just getting too old for this shit,” she sighed heavily.

“Oh please, pigs will fly before the day good ole Josie O’Donnell actually retires.”

She laughed heartily, smacking your arm in a playful way. You couldn’t help but admire how hardworking she was. She’d been at this business for years, and it was certainly no easy place to be. She inspired you to stay driven, even when you felt at your lowest. She was the only one in this place you trusted with the knowledge of your other job. Not everyone was so understanding, and plus, it wasn’t really their business anyways.

Working two jobs was in no way easy, but it was definitely necessary. Especially considering you liked living a certain way. You barely had any free time to hang out with friends outside of work, much less meet people and go on dates. Though it’s not like you didn’t get hit on, at both of your jobs, but you just weren’t interested in any of them.

Rarely could anyone keep up with your schedule, especially considering your line of work. It was unsurprising, but you weren’t really phased by it anymore.You didn’t give yourself the time to feel lonely, and you had enough interactions during the day to compensate. 

As the initial swell of patronage died down, you began wiping down the bar, absently humming to yourself. Def Leppard’s ‘Bringing on the Heartbreak’, one of your favorites, was playing on the speakers. 

An older looking gentleman slid onto a barstool then. You offered him a drink menu, but he waved it off and ordered a scotch, neat. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh, and his shoulders slumped as he crossed his arms over the bar top. 

“Long day?” You asked, pouring his drink. 

“You could say so,” he nodded wearily. “You know, I’ve always wondered, are bartenders required to ask that whenever they see a haggard-looking patron?”

You chuckled, sliding it towards him. “Only if we think we can help.”

A ghost of a smile was on his lips at that. You studied him more closely, trying to be subtle – He was strikingly handsome, with dark hair and thick dark eyebrows. He had a strong nose and a sharp, clean shaven jaw. His eyes were a piercing dark brown, and they drew your attention the most.

He took a sip of scotch, and there was something analytical in his gaze as he took you in, as well.

“Well, I guess you could say I’m a little bit of a workaholic,” he said.

You nodded in understanding. “A common affliction these days.”

“You, too?” He raised an eyebrow, and you shrugged as if to say what can you do?

“No offense, but I can’t imagine you love spending more time here than you need to.”

You raised both eyebrows at this, only half amused. He was wearing a nicely tailored suit, had an expensive watch on his wrist, and wasn’t ordering cheap drinks. The Duchess didn’t really seem like a place he’d hang out at, and yet…

“Hmm, well, I suppose the same could be said about you,” you countered, nonchalant.

“Touché,” he acquiesced with the smallest chuckle. “But I don’t know, maybe I should give it a chance. It’s…”

“Charming?” You offered.

“Yes, exactly.”

You excused yourself momentarily to attend to another customer. He looked around, but was clearly uninterested in talking to anyone else.

Josephine caught your eye and gave you an impressed look. She wagged her eyebrows suggestively and mouthed ‘get it’.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head a little. He was certainly very good looking, and flirting was pretty fun, but you weren’t sure if it should go any further than that.

When you returned, you refilled his glass, since he’d already polished off the first one.

“So, what’s your name?” You asked. “Or is it more fun to keep it anonymous?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You thought about it for a moment, but then you relented, telling him your name.

“Some call me Honey, though,” you added.

He extended his hand out to you. “I’m Aaron Hotchner. It’s nice to meet you, Honey.”

You shook his hand, his long fingers basically engulfing yours. Something stirred low in your belly at this, your mind going straight to the gutter. As if he could tell, a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Boy, do I feel lucky to be the one getting your attention tonight,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” 

“Those guys over there have been ogling you for some time now. They’re almost panting and salivating like dogs.”

You glanced in the direction he gestured towards, momentarily meeting two hungry gazes. You shrugged it off, so used to that sort of lascivious attention that you didn’t notice it anymore.

“Well, you approached me the right way,” you said, busying yourself by wiping down some glasses. “Some think it’s flattering to be looked at like that, but it’s really not.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he sympathized. “I get what you mean.”

“Oh, it must be so hard being so attractive, hmm?” You teased jokingly.

“So you think I’m attractive?” 

You gave him a look that said are you serious?

“I mean, I don’t want to stroke your ego but… Yes, you really are.”

Aaron’s smirk only grew, perhaps feeling more bold now that he was on his second drink. 

“For the record, I think you are very beautiful, but I am a man who knows who to appreciate beauty without needing to take some of it for himself.”

You looked back up at him then, momentarily stunned. Then you chuckled in slight disbelief, but also totally enthralled. Just who was this man?

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d held a conversation — less so one so genuinely riveting — with a single patron for this long. At least at this job, and especially for free.

You were even beginning to consider giving him your number, should he ask for it. But that was yet to be seen.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“Oh, I believe you,” you smirked in return, not letting on if you meant it or not. 

The two of you held each other’s gazes for a charged moment, trying to get a better read of each other in the low light. You saw both mirth and earnestness in his eyes — but no trace of anything that should raise any flags — and you found yourself getting just a little more comfortable.

It was easy to talk to him, but he was still very much a stranger. You didn’t want to let yourself get too excited, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t continue testing the waters. After all, he’d been pretty well behaved so far, and you always liked to reward good behavior.

Once more you had to pull yourself away to attend to someone, but at least the place was getting emptier as it got later. You could feel his gaze trailing you this time, and you glanced over your shoulder to send a wink his way.

“Psst,” Josephine hissed in your direction. “Why don’t you take fifteen? I’ve got things handled here.”

You hesitated. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure,” she scoffed. “Go on now, have a little fun.”

You waved her off, but smiled appreciatively. On your way to the other side of the bar, you grabbed yourself a beer and then plopped down on the stool next to Aaron’s. He turned to face you, his knees barely grazing yours. The small contact was innocent enough, but you still felt the smallest tingle down your spine. You clinked your bottle against his glass in a little toast. 

“You were right, you know?” He said, looking at the side of your face as you drank. “You really are helping me feel better.”

“Aw shucks, that means I’m good at my job,” you said teasingly, which made him playfully roll his eyes. 

“Tell me more about you. Why is it that they call you Honey?” he asked.

“Aren’t I sweet?” You pouted, pretending to be hurt.

He chuckled. “I think you are. Is that the whole reason?”

You nodded, omitting the fact that it also happened to be your stage name – Honey Bun. Sticky sweet; All satin and glitter and softness. Of course, that wasn’t the same you that was sitting across from him now.

“I think you have a very pretty name, too,” he leaned against the bar, resting his temple on his fist. “Is it too forward of me to ask to call you by it? Unless you prefer…” 

You waved him off. “How can I decline when you ask so nicely?” 

The two of you lost track of time as you continued talking and joking and teasing each other. Laughter seemed to come so easily around him, and there were virtually no awkward pauses between the two of you. It was almost too good to be true.

You told Aaron about some of the wilder things you’d witnessed working at the Duchess, looping Josephine into the conversation at one point. You never even noticed she didn’t call you back from your break, too absorbed in letting loose for once. Even if it was only for a little while, and not entirely.

Much too soon, last call was announced, and you realized that it was nearly two AM. Most people had left, and someone was sweeping as the tables were being stacked.

“Oh, wow, closing time,” you remarked. “I guess time does fly when you’re having fun, huh?”

You got up from your seat to start helping out, giving him a small, almost sheepish grin. You’d had a really nice time, but he was still a customer and couldn’t stick around as you wrapped up for the night. You tried to think of the nicest way to kick him out… even if a teenie tiny part of you didn’t want him to leave.

Aaron looked around as if coming out of a daze. He glanced at his watch and stood, gathering his things. “So it seems.”

“The Duchess just has that effect on people. I should have warned you.”

“I have to say, I think this place is growing on me,” he admitted. “Would you mind if I visited more often?”

“It’s a free country, you can do whatever you want,”  you smiled, and in your smile there was an invitation— or perhaps a dare?

And in his, you could see that he was ready to take it.

Still, to your surprise and slight chagrin, he did not ask for your contact information. Perhaps it was his way of continuing to be respectful. Or maybe, this encounter had merely been a reprieve from the day to day for both of you. Nothing more.

For a moment, you wondered if things would have gone down differently had you met in the Crimson Lounge instead of the Duchess. The thought made a small thrill dance in your chest, but you tried not to chase it further. Of course things would have gone down differently. You probably wouldn’t have talked nearly as much.

So you took what you could get, blowing a flirty kiss in his direction as he departed. It was better not to get attached, anyway.

[intertexts]

Oh wait

You like fucked up towns?

Do you perhaps have any thoughts on towns and how to make them more fucked up? :]

(^^ words of something trying to make a small town map that’s fucked up)

OH. HUH. FUN QUESTION. i feel like. i am a terrible person to ask for thoughts on things like this because the extent of my writing is like, gay ass character studies & shit. but. i do have a ton of thoughts on fucked up towns.

the most important thing, i personally think, is having your town be grounded in a real regional place and it has to be a place you love. it's so difficult to make that shit up from scratch and still carry a real weight. and the horror or strangeness or sadness of the town should come from the reality of it.

picking a few of the easiest examples: welcome to night vale, night in the woods, h.p. lovecraft's miskatonic county. the fucked-up-ness of all of them springs from the nature of the place itself. they're not interchangeable, and they all have different emotions linked with them.

night vale is, very loosely, a satire of unbothered american suburbia in the face of-- well. all the horrific shit that post-9/11 unbothered americana ignores! and the strangeness and beauty of the setting comes from the easy and pleasant and mundane way that its citizens interact with the horror. it's day-to-day, it's chill, it's normal. yeah the faceless old lady who lives in your home is running for mayor. yeah the angels who work the community garden and live with josie finally won the case for their existence we can acknowledge them now cool. (& also of course night vale is a southwestern desert town & it doesn't let u forget that!! it's hot and sunny in the day and cold at night and there's sand dunes out by the edge of town and beaches with no lakes and it is very grounded in its setting!!)

possum falls from nitw, on the other hand, is a love letter to to those old, death spiraling pennsylvania rust belt mining towns. it isn't as heavily supernatural of a setting (outside of the old god in the mines the elders are sacrificing the most vulnerable members of the community to for nothing but the continued hollow, wheezing survival of something that should be allowed to die) but it's very grounded in the reality of those places-- the omnipresent forest, the dinky grocery store, your old high school classmate sitting out on her apartment steps at sunset, the feeling of being out in the autumn cold at dusk and the empty subway station and the weathered, half-hearted historical remnants of local pride and the ghost of the closed mine over it all. the type of dead-end, black hole, potholed main street town that you know you're gonna live and die in because it's what your parents did and what their parents did and god knows how you'd even make it out.

lovecraft-- i mean, mandatory disclaimer on his insane racism of course. up to u if u wanna read of his work, a lot of his short stories r very short etc. but crucially, for what we're talking about here, lovecraft was fucking in love with new england in the way that people who r born and raised in new england r insane about it. his lovecraft country/miskatonic county/arkham county is set in massachusetts, and he's very clear about why everything's set in mass: bleak, lonely, ancient, haunted by the sea and the lingering ghosts of twisted puritan ideology. his fucked up towns are the dark hidden backwoods, the port towns, the wretched things brought by settlers who have been a parasite upon the woods and the rocks and the fields for hundreds of years, etc, the feeling that something has gone wrong and perverted here and it's far too late to fix it.

so like, tl;dr-- don't try and make somewherw generically weird. figure out what place makes YOU go crazy go stupid. pinpoint Why it specifically makes u go crazy go stupid, as opposed to everywhere else. crank that shit up to 100!!!!

[didyoulookforme]

ok b I have thought long and hard about this.

my first favorite look has got to be famous Lollapalooza Chicago matty. i love that sleazeball and his muscles are you kidding me??

second is the very short lived Glasgow 2024 look…. i just. especially with the glasses and the jean jacket. this video also makes me smash my head into a wall <3

and third is this… cowboy Matty? whatever this is I am obsessed and this performance is fucking crazy. his insane vocals? the dance??? i am not sure it gets better than that.

honorable mention bc I can’t help myself.. blue hair matty my beloved <3

thank you for indulging us and i’m excited to see everyone else’s hehe 🤭 💖

also, getting to some more asks in my inbox...

JOSIE. i love how detailed you went about your favourite matty looks. ilysm. thank you for sharing and for the thoughtful summary here.

all of these matty's are iconic.

chicago lolla will always live down in lore i think. don't blame him for wearing that during the stupid humid midwest weather! only went to lolla once myself and i almost died.

don't even get me started on glasgow matty. that's like, investor who's gonna rip your business plan to shreds vibes and i'm here for it.

COWBOY MATTY YES PLEASE. this one speaks to me on a deeper level. the way the embroidery on his shirt complements his tattoos is unreal. like. i can't. i wanna know what were the vibes he was going after? what was the process of thought when curating this outfit? i need the point of reference please. because i'm totally here for it.

blur haired matty, baby boy. too precious for this world and i wish he was with us for longer.

now i'm gonna go watch videos from lolla because i'll never get tired of them.

thank you, josie!!! <333

[tbgblr2]

The Military Spouse’s Predicament

Author's note:

This story is based on an ask I had from @kikilala14

---

Claire stretched and sighed, her hand resting on top of her bump.   She could finally see progress in the pile of clothes she was unpacking and folding – the list of tasks after moving house seemed to be never ending.

Looking over to the big pile of unopened boxes she let out a despondent groan.  She knew what she was getting into being a military spouse, but moving half way across the country to a whole new area, her husband deploying the day after they arrived for who knows how long… and her children impatient for a bit of normality after yet another major upheaval in their lives was all wearing on her nerves.

Claire married her squaddie husband, Tom, 5 years back and over the course of those 5 years, each of her children has essentially been born in a different city.    She had an older child, Josie, who she had as a result of a teenage fling before she met Tom, who though she was entering her teenage years herself, had proven to be invaluable in helping Claire manage the younger children she shared with her husband, all boys.

James was her eldest boy, 4 years old and needing to be enrolled in the nursery at the military base where the family lived.

David – or Davey as the family called him – was 2 years old and a typical rambunctious toddler.

Peter, or Petey was the youngest – due to turn 1 year old in around about a months time.

Carried within Claire’s womb was her second daughter, a result of an unfortunate accident when Tom was back home, and now, as Claire was approaching the final weeks of her pregnancy, she was well aware that technically her 2 youngest children would be ‘Irish twins’ both born less than a year apart.   Claire and Tom still hadn’t settled on a name for the new addition, and of course, Claire was fretting that time was getting short.  

Both Tom and Claire were preparing for the birth to happen whilst Tom was deployed, meaning he couldn’t be in attendance.   What Claire wasn’t expecting was the oncoming tightening around her belly as she was folding clothes, a panic setting in as she realised that things were starting – after having 4 children previously she knew the tell-tale signs of real labour vs Braxton hicks practice contractions.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath, looking around the house.   Her life was still in boxes – she had only moved in a week ago.  She hadn’t registered with the base medical personnel – truth be told she didn’t even know where it was at this point.

“Mammy made a swear” came a sing-song voice from behind her.   She hadn’t realised that James had snuck up behind her.   Claire turned around and told him that his mummy was very naughty and she shouldn’t have said that, that he wasn’t to repeat it. 

“I pwomise” he replied.  “Can I have my Legos?”

Claire hefted herself up off the ground, her hand finding her bump and rubbing.   She knew that things were progressing, and she had to consider that with no one to look after the children, she might have to have them here when she gave birth – perhaps sooner than she had planned.   She picked up her phone and dropped a text to Josie, asking her to come home.   She didn’t want to make her panic or anything, so left the reason why off the message.

Claire found the box with the Lego pieces in them, awkwardly placed at the bottom of a pile of other boxes.  

“James darling – the Legos are all the way down at the bottom of the pile, can you play with something else until we get to them whilst we unpack?” she asked.

“No!” James stamped his feet, and folded his arms, the first signs of a tantrum in the process of forming.  “I haven’t been able to play with them for ages now and I was almost finished building something.”  He referred of course to needing to pack them up and box them away for the move.

Claire sighed, feeling another contraction coming on.  She knew she likely had hours to wait until things really picked up, but there was so much to do to get prepared, she was worried she might not get everything done she needed to.

She reluctantly started lifting off boxes from the top of the pile, stretching to pick them up and place them down somewhat neatly elsewhere.

She picked up a second box, and James reached up to her hands, grabbing the box from her, announcing that he’ll help.

“No! don’t!” she snapped, already too late as James yanked the box from her hands, not realising that it was heavy.   The box dropped down with a crash, cups and dinner plates shattering into pieces, thankfully all contained within the box.

James burst out into fits of crying, the loud bang and shouting shocking him, Claire once more swearing out loud at the accident.   She brought her crying son into her with a hug and shushed him, telling him that it was an accident and it wasn’t his fault – all the while mentally berating him for not waiting for her to finish.

The commotion brought Davey into the room – he had been watching TV in a different room.   He broke into a grin, pointing at Claire.

“Mammy oopsie” he announced.   Claire stood up and realised there was a wetness between her legs and a dark stain on her trousers.   Claire turned red with embarrassment.   In all the stretching and lifting she was unsure if she had simply wet herself, the baby within her and her bladder both having had run ins before… or if it was something more dangerous – if her waters had broken.

Claire laughed it off.  “Yes, mammy was naughty and didn’t go to the toilet when she needed to – you need to make sure you do it like I told you to when you need to go if you want to be good!”

“Yes mammy” the two children recited, but soon James’s attention was brought to the box of Lego which he had originally wanted, which was now accessible.   Davey’s attention was also drawn to the box, but Claire was aware that the small parts might be a choking hazard for him, so she picked him up – the heaving up of the child up onto her hip resting against her bump causing another streak of pain – and brought him into the other room where his larger, Duplo blocks were already unpacked and piled in the corner.   She told Davey that he couldn’t play with the little blocks for now until he was older, so he had to promise that he would sit there whilst she went and got changed.   He nodded and promised.  

Claire scurried off into the bedroom and unpacked another change of clothes.  Changing her underwear, she swapped into a pair of absorbent underwear, unsure at the moment if she was having a slow leak or if it was just an accident.  She chose a loose fitting top – though with her bump being so prominent it still hugged at the outermost point, and a pair of yoga pants which would be tight enough to keep the underwear in place – and most importantly, were black in case of another accident.

She huffed out her breath as another contraction struck her – much more pronounced than any that occurred previously, the weight in her hips much more noticeable all of a sudden.   She took a moment to rub at its side, feeling the baby within wriggling and fussing around, certain that the baby’s previously snug living space closing in around it wasn’t exactly the nicest feeling in the world.

A cry sounded from the cot in the side of the room.  Petey had woken from his nap.   She picked up the baby and realised that he needed changing.   Groaning at the pain of another contraction ramping up – had it only been a few minutes? – she put the changing mat out on the bed, laid the baby on top of it, and started undressing him.   Bundling up his dirty nappy, and swapping it for a new one, she got him wrapped up in a new set of clothes.   The contraction caused Claire to pause momentarily, catching her breath.   She knew that things were progressing much faster than she had hoped and time was running out.

Where the hell was Josie? She looked at her phone – no reply to the message.   She sent another message, telling her to get back now, expressing the urgency.   5 minutes and if there was no reply, she would ring.

She carried the baby into the other room to check on the other 2 children, and thankfully both were playing with their toys.

She tried to set down Petey with his walker – one that played all sorts of music and had lights and spinney things which usually kept him entertained for a bit, but he just turned back towards his mother and raised his hands to be picked up.  He was clearly having none of the toys and wanted cuddles.  Claire held him up high – not wanting to sit down and wanted to be on her feet herself, the aches and pains becoming more noticeable as each contraction did its work in softening and opening her cervix.   Peter’s needs soon becoming apparent as he fumbled at Claire’s top wanting her breast for feeding.

A chill shot through Claire.   She knew that breast stimulation would speed up the labour she was desperately trying to slow down right now, but she had no other pre-pumped milk available for her son, so reluctantly she opened her top, pulled down the straps of her nursing bra and Peter latched on as he had done countless times before.

She found her way to a chair in the kitchen and managed to position Peter in such a way that he could rest on top of the bump and still be cradled whilst he sucked.   Claire gritted her teeth as the effect took hold, her the stimulation of her nipple causing the next contraction to start almost immediately.

She heard a buzz in the other room, and realised in her confusion she had walked out of the bedroom and left her phone on the bed.   Baby brain at its finest.   She hoped it was Josie saying that she was coming back home, and thought to herself she would check as soon as she could stand back up again.

Petey seemed to take ages to feed, the one time that Claire was hoping he would get his fill and be done.   Almost 10 minutes had passed before he had finally stopped suckling, and all through that time, Claire was in constant pain.   She resorted to vocalising, releasing her pain as moans and groans from her voice, though she bit down on a chunk of her sleeve to try and muffle the sound and not startle her other children.

Thankfully Peter finally got his fill and rolled off Claire’s lap, climbing down her leg.   He clambered on his hands and knees over to the walker he was originally offered where he occupied himself pressing buttons and making noise.

Claire shoved herself up off the kitchen seat and got up unsteadily onto her feet, immediately noticing the feeling of fullness between her legs was getting worse.   She waddled back to the bedroom, desperate to see the phone, her walk noticeably bow-legged compared to normal.

The message from her daughter was not what she wanted to see.  “You agreed I could be back by 9.  I’m at the youth club trying to make friends after you and dad dragged me away from my other ones… AGAIN”

She immediately rang on the phone.   Josie picked up after only a few rings.

“What!”

“I need you back home.”

“I’m Busy!”

“Please, just come home.”

“No!”

“Josie, if I have to tell you again, I will ground you for a year, get your ass back home!” Claire was screaming at this point, the pain of her contractions getting to her.

Josie obviously noticed something was wrong, but wasn’t sure what – her rebellious teenage hormones kicking in and she practically screamed down the phone herself “Fine! I’ll come back, but you’re being so unfair!”

She hung up the phone abruptly, Claire hoping that she would be good to her word and would head straight home.

Claire’s labour was progressing much faster than she thought, to the point now where her contractions were very noticeable, and she had to grab hold of the wall or some other convenient place and pant through them at this point.   She had to get somewhere set up where she could actually give birth.

She popped her head back in to check on her other children, and all were either playing or watching TV.   She snuck off to the bedroom and put some old bedclothes on the bed that she knew she could dispose of afterwards.    It was slow going, each contraction bringing on stronger and stronger pains as time went on, and walking around the bed to tuck in the sheets took quite a long time in her state.

She lost track of time until there was a bang, the front door slamming back.   Josie shouted out “I’m home, just like you wanted, you’re such an embarrassment, we’d both agreed I could be out… now I’m a joke amongst the group I had found, I can hardly make friends like this.”   She had sounds of tears in her voice.  Josie charged into her bedroom, once again slamming the door behind her, the sound reverberating through the house.  She turned on her music to a very loud volume and seemed to be going off into a tantrum.

Claire couldn’t focus on that right now, almost with tears in her eyes she collapsed onto the bed, muttering to herself that she needs help.   Heaving herself off the bed, she waddled into the other room, and spread a pile of papers all over the dining table.   Scanning through them, pushing them to the side in a frantic manner, she eventually found what she was looking for – useful phone numbers for the base.

Ringing the number, it seemed like the ringing went on forever before someone answered.   Eventually a lady on the other side of the phone did pick up, and asked;

“Medical, how can I help you?”

“Hi… I’m in labour, I need help.   Can you send someone over?”

“2 seconds ma’am” came the voice on the other side of the phone, accompanied by a set of clicking sounds as the lady checked on her computer.  “Sorry ma’am our records show that no one is currently pregnant on site.   Can you please let me know who you are?”

Claire explained the situation, that she had only been on site for a week, and she hadn’t visited the medical centre so far due to having to cope with unpacking whilst her husband deployed.   She thought she had at least another week or so before she was due to give birth.

The lady was sympathetic but sounded worried in her response.

“I’m sorry ma’am but without prior warning, we cannot get the specialised medical personnel available on site.   I will of course get someone out to you, but they need to come from across another site – it may be up to 2 hours.   Can you get to the medical centre so we can monitor you in the meantime?”

Claire sobbed no, as she gritted her teeth and let out a harrowing moan as a contraction took hold of her.   She heard the lady on the call click on her keyboard to send out the dispatch notice.   Claire finally got hold of herself to say that she had 3 small children, and couldn’t just leave them alone in the house, and wasn’t sure if she could make the journey to the medical centre in her current state without any assistance.

The lady on the other end of the call said that she had notification that the emergency midwifery team was on its way, and that she would get another call from an emergency doctor as soon as he was available.

Claire thanked the lady, realising she had done everything she could and hung up the phone.   As soon as she hung up, she was forced to grab tight hold of a bundle of sheets as the biggest pain yet rippled across her abdomen, and she yelled out loudly.

That caused her 3 young sons to come and enquire about what has happening.   The sound of their mother yelling in pain causing them concern.

“Mammy, are you in pain?”  James was the first to speak.

“Yes, darling.  I’m afraid that I’m going to be in pain for quite a while now.   Don’t worry though, I will get through it.  I’m going to bring you your new baby sister.”

“New Baby!” the three of them chanted, the varying degrees of clarity in their speech.  “Will the delivery man bring her in his big truck?” asked James.

 “No silly…” Claire added, biting back pain to try and keep as calm as possible in front of the children, “When a mammy has a baby, she needs to push it out of her.   Your baby sister is inside by belly, much like you all were before you were born.”

This impromptu sex education speech wasn’t exactly what Claire needed right now, she was counting on Josie to look after the other kids whilst she got herself off to the medical centre – but things had taken a bit of a turn through the day.   Josie had looked after the other 2 along with Tom when she had given birth to Peter earlier in the year, so whilst she was only really learning about the birds and the bees at school, she was well versed in how babies came into existence.

“How do you get the baby out of your big belly?” asked David.  At the ever-inquisitive age.

“It comes out from between my legs” Claire answered honestly, thinking the stalk thing wasn’t worth trying at this point.  

“You poopie out the baby?”

“No…” she winced as another contraction came about.  “Mammies have a special hole that the babies come out of.  You three don’t have one, but Josie does.”

“Is Josie going to have a baby as well?”

“No… she could in the future… but… not… yet…” She huffed and puffed out the last few words, scrunching her eyes shut as the pain overtook her.   The outside noises vanished as her body forced her to focus inwards at the pain, she was completely unaware at what the kids were saying.   She finally recovered enough to function, realising that James had said something but she didn’t reply.

“Sorry darling, what did you say?”

“Can I see the hole?”

“Perhaps later.   It will be very messy when the baby comes out, so I don’t want to scare you all.   Can you please leave mammy to rest for a few minutes please, I have a headache?”

“Awww!” came the murmur from the three as they trudged off back to whatever activities they were doing, Claire sighing in relief – this was short lived though as another contraction came on.   She laboured for another 30 minutes more, the sound of loud music coming from Josie’s room the prevailing sound in the house.   Claire felt unable to move, she began to panic thinking the heavy weight in her hips would prevent her getting up from the bed, but she had to at least get to the room and knock, try to get her attention enough to explain what had happened.

Claire lifted herself up off the bed, and walking one step at a time, grabbing handholds at each opportunity, she practically pulled herself along to get to Josie’s room.  She knocked at the door – no answer.   She pushed the door to find that Josie had locked it from her side.   She banged hard on the door… again, nothing.   Unsure if Josie was either ignoring her, or couldn’t hear her for whatever reason, Claire had to focus on the impending birth without her.

Claire managed between dragging herself and squat-walking to get to the kitchen area, where she sank down into a kitchen seat.   She cursed out loud as she heard the faint sound of her phones ringtone from her bedroom, completely forgetting that she had left it in her panic to reach Josie.  She knew she couldn’t reach it in time, so decided to leave it – hoping it was the doctor, and quietly hoping that if she didn’t answer, it may force him to come to her rather than just speak on the other end of the phone and leave her with her anguish with no assistance.

James appeared by her side, either not aware of Claire’s struggles, or having forgot what she told him previously, his big eyes looking up at her.

“Mammy… we’re hungry, can you make us some food?”

“Yes darling, just give me a few minutes to get my breath back… remember, mammy is in a lot of pain right now”

“No… all 3 of us are hungry…” he stamped his feet and crossed his arms again, much like he had done earlier in the day when he didn’t get his own way with the legos.

“OK… OK… you go and play and mammy will make you something, deal?”

That seemed to appease James who trotted off.

Claire hefted herself up, most of the effort in her arms pushing her up using the table as a support, and she waddled over to the fridge freezer.

She didn’t spend too long choosing, just picking some potato shapes out of the freezer and emptying the bag into the air fryer, setting the temperature and timer to well known values as she had did the meal several times before.   She was aware it wasn’t the most nutritious thing she could offer, but it meant she wasn’t spending time cutting and preparing food, it wasn’t something she felt she could do in her current condition.

As the timer slowly ticked down on the air fryer, she slipped a hand down between her legs, trying to get a sense of what was happening down there.  She got a shock when she felt a liquid, spongy mass between her legs.   It answered her earlier question if her waters had broken… but now it meant that things were reaching the point of no return much quicker than she had thought.  Her peaking pains earlier had been her going through transition, and she was now presumably ready to push.

As if her brain and body had caught up with what her hands had just felt, all of a sudden, she felt the need to push.  She breathed through it and tried her hardest to not act on the sensation, but she knew it was a losing battle.   She still estimated that she would have at least an hour before the medical team arrive, and she knew within herself that this wasn’t going to wait that long.

She crossed her legs as she stood at the kitchen counter, focusing on watching the time slowly tick down on the air fryer.   She entered into an almost meditative like trance as she breathed slowly in and out, each time the need to push came along as the contraction ramped up, she blew out her breath, but she knew that each contraction was bringing the baby out further and further, and no amount of her delaying it would stop that inevitability.

Finally, 5 contractions later, who knows how many breaths, and at a point where time had lost all meaning, she heard the ding of the air fryer announcing the kids food was done.   She plated them up and called the kids into the kitchen where she handed the plates off to them.   She mashed the potato shapes up for Peter, but had a slight concern that he might struggle with it, as she was still weaning him onto solid food… but the impending struggle between her legs was a more pressing matter.   Why the hell wasn’t Josie helping?

As the kids came bounding into the room, she handed off the plates to each of them as they walked back to their own tables.  Except for Peter, who looked at his mother expectantly.

“Milk?” he asked,

“No baby, not right now… you eat the big boys food with your brothers?”

“No!” he insisted.   He made grabbing motions towards Claire’s torso.

A contraction caused Claire to sink to her knees as she pushed involuntarily.   A sudden wetness making her realise that this time, her waters had broken.   As the other 2 children we occupied with their food, she took the opportunity to take off her top and bra, leaving her yoga pants in place, knowing she would need to get them off soon.

Peter recognised his target, and approached Claire, who held on to him as he began suckling on her breast.

Again as before, the contraction surged through her, the stimulation helping move things along, and she was forced to reach up on her haunches, much to Peters annoyance as he was forced off the breast.   It gave Claire a chance to push the yoga pants down to her knees, and then in a few struggling movements get them down, leg by leg, around her ankles.  As she wiggled from side to side she shrieked as a leg dropped out from her.   Her baby was breach.

Knowing the birth had become much more complex – she had never had a breach birth before – she lost her composure, sobbing and yelling uncontrollably, pushing with her body as she went.   She had positioned herself on all fours with her hips pointing down to give some opening to her pelvis.   Peter, not knowing better, had started suckling once again on her hanging breasts, which was causing the contractions to surge through her, to the point where the baby’s legs and torso were hanging between Claire’s legs in a matter of moments.

The commotion finally brought Josie out of the room with a ‘what the hell is going on out here” shout only to stop suddenly at the scene.    She suddenly realised why her mother had called her back home, and guilt ridden, she charged towards her and held her close.

“What can I do?” Josie asked.  

“Pull off these things trapping my feet, I need to spread wide.” Answered Claire.

Josie did as she was asked, Claire sighing as she was able to finally move her ankles apart.

“Do you remember what it was like when Petey was born?” Claire enquired to Josie.   Josie in turn nodded.  “Well this is different.  Baby is coming feet first, so I still need to push out the head.   Help me up, and support the baby so I can get into a squat?”

Josie did as she was told, taking a hold of Peter and moving him out of the way.   The other 2 had come over and were staring at the scene, completely focused on the action happening in front of them, half eaten plates of food discarded over on the table.

Josie got on her hands and knees in front of Claire, who in turn lifted one knee up, and heaved herself up using Josie’s back to press on, Josie reaching between Claire’s legs to support the babys torso hanging there.

The same happened with Claire’s second leg until she was in a squat, with Josie laying on the floor between Claire’s legs, holding onto the baby, Claire using Josie’s body to support her weight to prevent her toppling over.

Claire gave a big push as she felt her vagina opening wider and wider, the width of the head stretching her out – but the pull of gravity of the body making it happen faster than she would have hoped.   She couldn’t stop and she just went with her body.

James giggled, unsure what to do with the situation, dancing almost in a sing-song voice, “I can see mammys hole, its so hairy.   Mammy doesn’t have a pee pee.”

Claire was focused purely on pushing, and didn’t hear James.   She yelled out, the ring of fire in full force as her lips stretched to their widest point.   She didn’t care what noise she was making, she just wanted the baby out.   Her hands had grasped large handfuls of Josie’s clothes as she pulled on her top to give some sort of leverage to her pushing.

Josie gave encouragement, telling Claire she was doing well, and the baby was coming, but again, her focus was entirely on pushing.   She yelled out again and again. 

Suddenly Claire shrieked, her skin stretched as far as it would go, and the baby flew out of her and into Josie’s hands.   There was an almost eerie silence, each of the children were stunned at what had just happened, the only sound in the room was Claire’s ragged breathing.   Then the baby cried, causing Claire to sink to her bottom, her own tears coming unbidden.

The baby was still attached by its umbilical cord but held in Josie’s hands as she asked “What do I do?”

Claire motioned for her to hand the baby to her, where she gave a quick check over and made sure everything was OK.   She was shivering with the adrenaline rush as she got the rest of the kids to crowd around and meet their baby sister.

Josie fetched a bed sheet and wrapped up mother and baby, Claire grimacing as she passed the placenta, but aware that this would be very much difficult for the children to deal with so she didn’t dare look under the blanket.   As she was beginning to wonder how long it would take the medical team to arrive, there was a knock at the door and they entered with their security keys.

Seeing the scene in front of them, they soon realised they were too late, and began to assess for post partum activities.   Thankfully everything checked out and the family were moved to the medical centre for a more thorough examination.

2 days later as the chaos of having a new baby calmed down, Claire’s phone rang, it was Tom who had managed to get the message through that he needed to ring home.

“Hi Tom.  You’re a Daddy again, we need to think of that name a whole lot faster now.” As he heard the giggling cries of a new born on the other end of the line.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 33- Theater of Pain

Summary: Jason Morgan is back! He and Craig bicker. Josie gets the shock of her life. Both men get their just deserves during an emotionally long and dramatic showdown. Orlando is sought out. Some bar fun is short lived. Josie saves Orlando once again and keeps him from making a huge mistake.

*Warnings* language, dark and super angsty, mob depictions, alcohol use, mentions of abuse and molestation, violent tendencies, weapon use

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Chapter characters: Jason, Craig, Josie, Orlando, Luke Sr.

Salem, Massachusetts

March 7, 2023

Twenty minutes after you left Craig's apartment, he received a knock on his door. Thinking it was you, he rushed over and swung it open.

"Hey, Josie, you forgot your box of....Woah. What the hell are you doing?! Get in here before someone sees you!" Craig commanded to none other than your dead and buried brother, Jason Morgan, and then slammed the door shut behind him. "Where the hell have you been??!!"

"Sonny's. Where else?" the blue-eyed muscle man dressed in black retorted.

"Oh well, THAT would have been nice to know after you just snuck out of here like I told you NOT to do! I should have kept you drugged. Did you know my father is out?? He was just here an hour ago! Wanting to know what I've been up to while he was away!"

"I know he was, and my sister too. I have been watching and waiting for them both to leave. Does Cyrus know I'm alive?"

"I have no idea, but I'm sure he suspects it. Why else would he come here?? It sure wasn't to catch up with his beloved son over a cup of tea! Being his son does not protect me from his wrath. He's ruthless in case you haven't gotten a clue yet. If he, or the Zacchara's know you're alive and that I aided with it, all hell is going to break loose. And heeeere you are, literally a dead man walking, coming to my home! You could have at least wore a damn hoodie. Are you trying to get yourself killed for real this time??? I'm not so sure I can heal a fucking gun shot!"

Jason wasn't one for being scolded or told what to do, which triggered him to blow up at Craig's reprimand.

"I would have survived! Just like I survived every gun shot!"

Craig was just like Jason, fearless and blunt, so he continued on with his rant to his best friend.

"Yeah and every explosion??? You only survived that because I fucking drug your ass out of there, otherwise, you would have been an unrecognizable corpse like the one in your grave!! A little thank you would be nice for following you around and knowing what's up and handling all of the dirty work!"

"Right and let me thank you for handling me by holding me against my will and shooting me up with horse tranquilizers!"

"Exactly what were you gonna do?? You're in over your head! I had to do that so you wouldn't go after them too soon and half cocked and ruin the entire plan! YOUR plan remember??? To make them believe you're dead so they wouldn't see you coming and here you are, walking around in broad fucking daylight. My father is clearly watching me so it looks like you've already shot your plan to shit because you have no damn patience. Not to mention, your sister lives right down the damn hall and I have to lie to that sweet girl!! Oh, and my father met her today!! He asked her last name to prove to me that he knows who she is!"

"Who's fault is that??! Why the hell did you let her move in here??? And why was she even here with you?? Wasn't screwing and marrying my ex not enough for you, that you gotta go after my sister too??"

"Ohhh hell no. You didn't just say that to me. Beth pursued me after you dumped her and went after that woman doctor, with very good reason I might add though, but that's beside the point. She followed me to New Zealand. Although I guess I got my karma for it huh? Can't even see my kid, who I'm one hundred percent certain is not even my kid. I'd bet my life on it that Blaise belongs to that punk Ethan. Countless times I had seen them together before she wound up pregnant, in which I think she already was when she found me because the timing just never added up. Blaise was born early and she wasn't a preemie."

"Well at least your kid is alive and knows you as her father. Jake only knew Lee as his dad, which I was alright with. He's a good man from what I know and he truly loved my son as his own even after he found out the truth that he wasn't. I thought Jake would have been better off not being a part of my life, you know, safe and having a normal family. That sure bit me in the ass."

"You're right man. I am truly sorry about your loss and what Beth did to you and that boy. I wish you could prove what she did, then maybe I'd be able to take Blaise from her psychotic demented ass. She has no business being a mother."

"No need for that. Liz will get hers, all in due time and then Blaise will be all yours. So...tell me you didn't tell Jo any of this? I mean, Jake was her nephew that she never knew existed and now she's dating his dad. I would rather her hear it from me at some point."

"No...of course I haven't...and I hate it, with every bit of my soul, lying to her about everything." Craig remorsefully said until a light bulb turned on in his head, causing him to panic.

"Wait....did you just say, oh no no no....Beth's ex Lee is Josie's Lee??"

"Youuuu seriously didn't know that??"

"NO I didn't know they were one and the same! Fuck me...I can't believe I didn't figure that out. She did say....she knew someone going through what I was with Blaise not being mine but never said who...All she had ever said about her boyfriend was his first name which is all I had ever known about Beth's ex...I had never seen the guy and I wasn't going to ask either of them to see photos so I...I didn't place it....and I...I figured when Josie told me about Ethan, that she only knew him because of you...oh Jesus... she is going to hate me when this all comes out! I think I know what a panic attack feels like now."

Craig aggressively ran his hand over his face and then he began pacing, snatching up the wine bottle and drinking straight from it as he did so.

"Yeah Craig, they're the same entity and again, who's fault is it if she hates you? You wouldn't even know her on a personal level if you hadn't let her rent here. My sister was never supposed to be involved in any of this. Why Craig? Why did you do that when you knew I was right downstairs at the time???"

"Honestly, I thought it would be best, for you, ya know, to have her close. Keep an eye on her, help keep her safe. I mean, she was a victim of the Floating Rib's explosion too and that damn dog sniffing cop was her ex....and it's probably a good thing she's here because she told me Ethan is becoming a problem in her life. I guess he recently put his own brother in the hospital, attacked him or some shit and is harassing Josie and LEE. But trust me, I'm going to put a stop to that REAL quick."

"First of all, just stay out of all this and away from my sister. I will handle Ethan and Johnny both. They're the ones who had that bomb planted and I also know Liz was in on it too."

"Yeah well, I can't stay out of it, nor hardly stay away from my own tenant, NOR do I want to. Especially now and besides, you know as well as I do that there's no getting out of the mob because I tried when I left to go home....and don't forget my father. He was the mastermind of it all. You know he's allies with the Zacchara's and he wants you dead for sending him to prison, and then there's Sonny, the real target, who he despises more than anything. Your Sonny's right hand man, the deadly weapon of the Corinthos family and taking you out was the perfect way to weaken him, hitting him where it hurt the most."

"I'll handle Cyrus too, once and for all, like I should have before. Sonny knows he's free and has his eyes and ears everywhere....and Sonny is far from weak without me. You of all people should know that since you work for him too."

"Just as my father has eyes and ears all around, which is how he planned your entire hit from prison. So, I'm still in one piece so I assume you talked Sonny out of busting my knee caps for assisting you in your warped plan??"

"He's grateful that you had my back and saved me, so consider this your lucky day. I'm grateful too. I'm just frustrated, like you are. You're not the only one my sister is going to hate and then there's my mom man. She'll probably disown me, which would be for the best anyways. All I have ever done was try to keep her and Jo safe...but my sister, she's stubborn as hell and extremely fucking smart. She saw right through me and all my dealings. Jo knows me better than I know myself...and I will most likely lose her over this just like you. But with that said, she can't know. Not yet. Not until all the threats are eliminated. I don't want her hurt again because of me."

"Yeah well, I certainly am not going to tell her. Oh and by the way, she also said that Ethan is hanging around your other sister now. He was there today, at your mom's picking her up."

"One way or another, he's going down. Traitorous piece of garbage. I don't give a crap about my sister Megan. He's just her type and they deserve each other, but messing with my mom and Jo, he will soon regret. I'm gonna head back to Sonny's before Jo gets back. Just so you know, I didn't just walk here in broad daylight. I used the old underground tunnels and then I came up the back stairwell exit."

"Ahhh, the old smuggling catacombs. Bet that's an interesting sight."

"Trust me, you don't want to know. I feel like some sewer rat."

"Is that what that smell is?" Craig grinned as Jason rolled his eyes.

"I'll be in touch soon. Look for my code in a text so you know it's me."

"Got it. Watch your back man. Let me go out first to check the hall."

Up the stairs you came, fuming. Not so much over Lee, but over the phone call you had with your mom on the way back from seeing him. It was true. She was selling the Haunted Star and to make matters worse, it was who she was selling it to. You had called Lee right after, needing to talk to him about it and even Orlando too but now both seemed to be ghosting you.

All your thoughts were soon ceased as you headed to Craig's to get the box you forgot, for as you turned the corner, you got another surprise like earlier, only this one was enough to rock your world.

There stood your deceased brother, very much alive, beside a mortified Craig, who like you, forgot to breathe.

"You...you're alive?? How...." was all that came out of your gaping mouth as you stared with wide eyes at a very stunned Jason before everything went black.

As you began to faint, Craig charged past Jason to catch you, then he swooped you up and quickly carried you inside his apartment with Jason swiftly in tow.

"FUCK!" Jason shouted as he slammed the door and stared at you, cradled like a child in Craig's arms.

All Craig could do was gaze down at you, knowing that very soon, you would never want to see his face again and for some reason that he did not understand, it sent a pain through his heart that he had never felt before.

"Craig. Snap out of it. Put my sister down." Jason flatly and firmly ordered.

The addled artist blinked and then whipped his head up. "It's an art studio. I'm not laying her on the hard, cold and filthy ground. My apartment's through the back. Lock that door."

Jason bolted up the steel door, then rushed around the corner to see Craig gently laying you down on his bed.

"What are you doing??"

"She's warm. Open the patio door to let the cool breeze in from the bay and bring me a damp wash cloth from the restroom." Craig rambled off while concentrating on making you comfortable and watching your breathing.

The miffed mob man went to do as his obviously smitten friend asked, knowing you would come to at any moment and he would have some serious explaining to do, which he also knew you would never understand. Could Jason really blame you? He put you and his mom through the hell of believing he was dead. What possible justification for that could there be?

Jason rang out the rag and promptly brought it to Craig who was now sitting beside you, stroking your hair.

"What am I missing here Craig?"

"Huh?" he muttered as he tenderly patted the cloth over your forehead.

"That. This. The way you are with her. The way you look at her."

"You're reaching Jason. I...I just care for her, that's all."

"Yeah, maybe a little too much. Don't forget, she loves someone else and also don't forget who you are."

"Speak for yourself about who I am....and who said anything about love?"

"I did. I know you better than anyone and I see it. You're getting caught up in her. You're the last thing she needs. Look at all she has been through just because of me and my life."

"First of all, I don't need your approval or permission to do a damn thing in my life and second of all, you won't need to even worry about that once she wakes up and tells me to fuck off. Like she'd ever be interested in someone like me anyways, especially now....and quite frankly, it's the last thing I even want in my life after Beth and every other girl who I was never good enough for. Like you said, she loves someone else so drop it Jason."

"You're the one going on and on about it. Who you trying to convince? Me or you?"

"ENOUGH!" Craig barked, causing you to stir. "Heyyy there princess, can you hear me?" he softly said as he took your hand.

Your eyelids began to flutter open and all you saw was Craig's worried face coming into focus, for Jason stood far back, hands on his hips and head down, slightly peering up at you under his arched brow, calmly waiting for the heat he was about to take.

"Craig? Wh...what happened? Where am I?" you asked, squinting a few times at the unfamiliar bed you laid upon and your hand inside of Craig's.

"You...you fainted sweetheart. You're in my apartment....well, my...bedroom."

Craig lightly gulped as your confused eyes then fixated on his. "My panic attack...I...did I...dream of going to seeing Lee? Did I never leave?"

"No, princess, you left and....came back for your things that you forgot and...."

"JASON!" you shouted and flung up with bulging eyes that quickly spotted the icy blue eyes you thought you'd never see again.

The moment was intense and so surreal for both of you. Jason knew that when you found out, it would be a shock any way that he revealed himself, but it wasn't supposed to be like this and not now.

You yanked your hand free from Craig's and abruptly pushed past him to stand up and face the man the who you were told had severe head trauma and was burned beyond recognition. All you could do was gawk at him, studying every detail of his face to make sure you weren't hallucinating or even dreaming....and of course to make sure it was really him because...then who's body did Lee work on?? Who was in the casket and buried six feet under with a tombstone naming Jason Steven March on it???

"I ummm, I'm gonna go in the other room and give you both some privacy." Craig quietly said, attempting to escape and headed to the door.

"Hold it!!" you snapped, holding your arm out, pointing at him as your eyes remained trapped on Jason.

Craig pursed his lips as he froze, then slowly turned back around.

"H...how??? How are you here???!! I...I...I was there....I...the explosion...Lee...he...he saw your...body??? We...we fucking buried you...oh my god, I have got to be having some break from reality right now...this...this is just not possible! I...I want to hug you so bad and at the same time, I want to rip your head off! Someone start talking!!!"

"Craig, you're right. leave us...please. I need to talk to my sister alone." Jason said as he finally worked up the nerve to speak. The six foot assassin feared no one, except for four people. His mother, Sonny, Britt and ...you....and all for very different reasons.

Craig couldn't move fast enough because he was sure his head would be the next target and he was right.

"Don't go far....you and I have our own conversation to have....friend!" you warned with a glare at the man who clearly knew your brother, the man you told only hours ago that you trusted him, the man who now made sense that he was one of the family. When would you ever learn?

Craig's baby blues were remorse ridden, much like Jason's, as he nodded and quietly walked out, closing the door behind him. He began to finish off his bottle of wine from earlier while not being able to help overhearing the crying, shouting and either a slap or a punch, all coming from you....and he knew he would be next.

Almost an hour went by while Craig fretted and drank another bottle. Your voice had become softer at times, then loud again as Jason's could be heard explaining everything and then...the door flung open and you came storming out in a rage.

"YOU! You were a part of ALL this???!!! You KNEW my brother was alive this entire time??? You helped him orchestrate it all because YOU are one of them. My god how blind and stupid could I be...once more?? I trusted you! I actually believed you were a good guy when you're no better than any man I ever believed in because they all let me down. But you knew all about that. You knew everything about me before I ever even met you. You lying son of a bitch. I recant ever calling you my friend."

Craig lowered his head in shame, releasing a soft sigh as he had stood there motionless the entire time, holding his wine glass in one hand and fidgeting with his other while taking the verbal beating he knew he deserved as Jason also stood quietly with a lingering welt of a hand print across his cheek.

"You're not stupid...and you're right...Josie. I am a son of a bitch and a liar, but I swear...I swear on my daughter, please believe me when I say I cannot express how sorry I am for hurting you. I hated every minute of it but I...I had no choice. Please...please tell me you at least believe that. I care about you..a lot. We connected and I know you felt it too. Can I please tell you my side of things? Just you and me?" Craig softly pleaded as he took a step towards you. One he shouldn't have taken, for he also then earned his awaited slap.

He took it with a flinch and then slowly brought his humiliated eyes to yours as you began to cry. The one thing you had told him you never did in front of people if you could help it... and you couldn't help it. He hurt you deeply and he was going to know it and feel it. And he did too. It tore him to pieces seeing you cry.

"Why, so you can manipulate me some more? I know all I need to know. Any connection there may have been, you killed it. You had a damn choice Craig and it certainly wasn't caring about me. The only thing I actually even believe about you now is that you truly love your daughter...and I really hope she's not Ethan's, mostly for her sake, you know, the guy I told you about that you actually knew way more better than you let on?? Like umm, Elizabitch, I mean BETH is your baby mama of all lying cheating whores. Apparently I AM stupid for not realizing that when Britt flat out argued with her about you once, defending you, even said your name...and considering you even knew who Ethan was...a con just like you, that should have been a red flag...and YOU should have known who Lee was too. Guess you were just as stupid as me because YES I WAS STUPID!" you argued to his denial of it, throwing your hands in the air and then continued berating him.

"God how it all makes sense now and then there's your creepy ass dad, another mob man, who clearly had you all in some way after his not so random visit... but you said nothing, you wouldn't talk about him. Guess I can see why now. I mean shit, he just got out of PRISON for the typical not so legal shipments on the docks. I could go on all day here about what I have learned. I mean, what could you possibly say that I don't already know? Just more...'pretty words' huh Craig??...Oh...and then there's the fact that I had a nephew I didn't even know about or ever meet! A nephew who happens to be the dead son of my boyfriend who's life has been turned upside down over it all, but yet he's not his son now is he? He's my brother's son which you both knew. How do I even tell Lee something like this? Like, oh by the way Lee, that sweet little boy you've been grieving over for 4 years now, well guess what, I know who his bio daddy is...it's my not so dead brother and that makes me his aunt. And believe me, I will tell him. Unlike you both, I don't keep fucking secrets. Well, except for mom. Jason can fix his own damn mess with that. ALL I know is you both deserve each other and can go to hell!...OH...and Craig...I am NOT a fucking princess. What I am is a damn fool who was made to feel like one by those pretty words. But hey, thanks for trying to cheer me up."

Your words were getting colder and colder, mocking things Craig had said to you, and you hated it. You hated this side of you, stemmed from always being fucked over, and you needed to get out of there, so you went to walk out , but Jason quickly blocked the door.

"Jo, no. You can't go off like this and you definitely can't tell Lee about me."

"The last time I checked, I could do anything I damn well please, now get the hell out of my way Jay. As elated as I am that you're alive, I can't deal with this right now. It's too damn much. I need to go and let it all soak in... and even then, I don't know if I can ever forgive you... and I'll tell you right now, mom won't."

"Look, I know you're angry and you have every damn right to be, but take a little advice that I was given. Don't go out there all half cocked and do something stupid. That's what has kept me alive. Craig... he kept me alive Jo. Don't put Lee in danger by telling him things he don't need to know. Sometimes you have to do it Jo, to protect those you love. Just like I did. Let me handle this."

"Right, because you done such a stand up job so far at handling things. How is making me and mom suffer and have to bury you, protecting us??? Silly me, what was I thinking? And just how does telling Lee about Jacob put him in danger???"

"Because I never told anyone but Sonny and Craig about him being my son and you know Lee will go straight to Liz about it in anger and she'll figure out I'm alive because she knows they would never tell anyone and then she could easily shoot her mouth off to Ethan and then he'll go to Johnny... do you see now??"

"That sounds to me like it only puts YOU in danger. Story of your life. I can't even believe this... how everyone knows everyone and is involved somehow. It's not like Salem is a small town. All the signs I get in my life, how the fuck did I miss all this??? How do I keep this from him when we are having problems for the same damn reasons???? You can't do this shit to me Jason!!! Not after everything. I won't lie to him. He won't say anything if ask him not to."

"I can't stop you Jo, but I really hope you think about it long and hard before you do. You're already having trust issues with him and..."

"Are you really playing that card with me right now???!!! You may have been spying on me all this time but you know NOTHING about my relationship with Lee. Nothing! I DO trust him. He's obviously not the only one with skeletons in his closet so just back off of him! Go worry about your damn boat that mom sold to Ethan's dad!! And why?? To get rid of everything that reminded her of your criminal life. That was dad's boat Jason, and he trusted you with it! And you went and changed your will, leaving it to mom. Why didn't you leave it to me?? I wanted it Jay. I wanted to make something good out of it and now... now it will continue to be a craft of crime. Better go get your bike before she pawns that off too! Maybe Ethan would like it since the one he rides is a piece of shit like he is! What is wrong with you Jason??? Look what you have done to our family!! Why didn't you just stay dead!!!"

"That's enough Jo!! I get it that you're hurt and angry and with every right to be, but you need to calm down!!"

"Don't yell at her man. She hasn't done anything wrong." Craig firmly stated as he stepped out of his corner.

"Stay out of it Craig and stop trying to suck up to my sister because you have some thing for her." Jason retorted.

"Stay out of it?? You keep saying that and yet here I am, in this shit clear up to my damn neck, and why?? ALL to help you. Why did you even have to come here when you knew the risks???? You could have called!!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry I ruined whatever delusions you had going on here but this was all going to blow up in your face eventually and it was better sooner than later from what I can see."

"Delusional? This is fucking reality. A reality that YOU created Jason and me...her, your mom, Lee, Britt... are just collateral damage in your mob war."

The two bickering men had become within a foot of each other's faces and you had had enough.....although you were inclined to agree with Craig on what he had just said.

"Oh stop it! Both of you! This isn't a damn soap opera, but Craig is right about that Jay. You're like a fucking tornado, destroying everything in it's path and I...I am just done here. I need to go find someone to talk to that I actually DO trust. Someone that worked his ass off to earn it because he genuinely cares for me and I have neglected him because of all my bullshit."

"Josie...wait...please." Craig calmly pleaded, although extreme desperation was written all over his face. "Please, just don't hate me. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. I'll work my ass off too to earn your trust back. I can't stand this. I never wanted to hurt you."

There was that sincere side of him again and it slightly softened you, but not to the point of oblivion.

"But you did hurt me. What this other person did was something petty, like a high school kid would do. What you BOTH have done is indescribable to me, completely beyond measure to that and I don't see what you could ever possibly do to make that right. I do...I do know it was not intentional. I don't hate you Craig....I feel sorry for you. You're actually a lot like me. You have a good heart in there...I've seen it and I've even heard it, but you let my brother and the shit you been through take you to the dark side and you took me down with you. You can't fix this. As they say, you never get a second chance at a first impression."

You glanced at Jason who held his head low and back at Craig's attentive and somber eyes as tears streamed down your cheeks, in which he then bravely marched forward and gently took your face in his hands. It happened so quickly that you just caved and let him touch you. Maybe you subconsciously wanted him too?

"But this is not the first impression, now is it? You've already seen that in me long ago. You know that and you know me. The real me that I don't let anyone else see. And you even just said you know I have a good heart so you contradict yourself, just Josie. That connection I mentioned. It's there... right now." Craig softly said, bearing the bluest of eyes and kindest smile. The real him that that carried that connection to you. The real him that you secretly didn't want to lose.

Nope. You weren't going to let him work his ridiculous magic on you that you could feel starting to work. You shoved his hands down and then walked out as fast as you could, completely ignoring your resurrected brother and forgetting your box of stuff that caused this entire revelation and situation to unfold.

You headed straight to your car and called Orlando...but as usual, he didn't answer. You needed to warn him about his dad buying the boat because that meant his father had every intention of sticking around Salem. You also missed the good doctor Bloom.

Off you went as dusk was setting in, to see if he was home, for you knew he was still on medical leave from the hospital according to Britt. You didn't have to go that far though, for on your way through town, you happened to see Orlando getting out of a cab and heading into the Brady pub, your family's bar and eatery. It was like you were meant to find him. Signs again?

You circled back around and parked, then headed inside. It was almost as if Orlando sensed your presence as he turned around and immediately locked his chocolate eyes on you. He then slowly approached you with furrowed brows as those now shocked eyes looked you up and down.

"Hey..." you quietly said, coming to a stop only a few feet away from him.

"What are you doing here?" he simply asked with no expression. You just wanted to hug him, needing comforting arms around you but he seemed less than pleased to see you, so you refrained.

"I...I tried to call you. I really needed to talk to you so I..."

"Since when do you need me? I haven't heard from you or seen you since I was in the hospital. Guess you had better things to do."

'You're...angry with me...I'm...I'm sorry...you're right, I've been so wrapped up in things and..so much has happened and...it's no excuse but I...you're the only one I wanted to talk to right now...and I just need..." you stammered as you began to choke up.

Orlando's flat expression instantly became that of concern and he took your hands into his.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked with such compassion, which triggered your tears paired with a pathetic frown.

"Everything." you squeaked as you squeezed his hands in response to the once again tightening of your throat. Thank god there was no one working that you knew and thank god Orlando pulled you into his arms. His scent was refreshing and natural, like Gain laundry soap, reminding you of the other time he had held you in your mom's kitchen during your inebriated mourning of Jason's death.

Orlando rested his cheek against your head as he gently caressed your back with his fingers entwining in the ends of your hair. Orlando was shorter than Lee and Craig, so this time yo couldn't hear his heartbeat but you could feel it against yours as your face was burrowed into his neck. Instead of a slow steady pace like Craig's, Orlando's was racing and as the hot breaths from his nose pulsed over your ear. Strangely though, it was still soothing.

"Feeling better now?" he whispered and slowly pulled back to look down at you.

"Yeah.." you answered in embarrassment for imploding into him in public and quickly released the comfort zone of his body.

"I was just about to get a beer. Join me? I'm buying." he asked with that cute ass smile of his where the corners of his lips slightly curled up.

"Yes, please!" you anxiously agreed and sat down at a secluded table.

Orlando then brought two large glasses of tap and before he could even sit down, you began chugging it. He then plopped down with gaping eyes, watching the last drop enter your mouth.

"Thirsty??" he asked with a slight chuckle.

"You have no idea. Can I get another??" you called to the bartender.

She quickly brought it over and left, then you lifted it up in a tilt to Orlando.

"Cheers!" you cheered.

"I'll drink to that. Cheers." Orlando replied with a silly smirk and toasted back to you.

"So I see your hand is healing up nicely. I'm sorry Lando...that I haven't been around."

"Yeah it is, although I've gotten quite accustomed to using my left hand now. Don't apologize. I'm the one who's sorry for sounding cross."

"Well you kind of had a right to be, but thanks...for being so great, just like you always are. So, where's your mom and Luke?"

"Around somewhere I guess. Luke's off being my brother Luke, always disappearing so who knows what the hell he's up to. Mum's got a place at the Salem Inn for now. I don't stay home much to know anything. Can't stand the silence. Glad I'm going back to work next week. Ironically the same day as Lee's conference. You'll be there right?"

Your eyes fell from his and you continued to drink.

"Josie? What's going on? And don't tell me nothing. This great guy here can see right through you."

"I...umm...I think Lee and I...are over. Story of my life." you told him as you shrugged and fought the sting in your eyes.

"You may not believe this...but...I really am sorry to hear that. I don't ever want to see you hurt Josie. Do you...want to talk about it?"

"Not much to talk about really. It's pretty simple. It's all over Ethan as usual and I think that Lee has some feelings for him to face that he will not be honest with me about or even to himself. I hope Ethan has been leaving you alone because he sure hasn't stayed out of mine or Lee's life and Lee won't make him stay away which speaks volumes. Fucking menace. Ethan's fucking my sister now, did you know that? Came to my own mother's house this afternoon to pick her up. I'm just so disgusted with everything right now."

"Jesus...Josie, no I didn't know. Ethan is always with someone knew all the time and no, he hasn't bothered me. I think Luke did something to cause that."

There was so much you wanted to tell Orlando, about Jason, about Ethan and Liz and Craig, but you couldn't. As mad as you were at your brother, you were so grateful he was alive and you still had to protect him. The question was, were you going to tell Lee?

Speaking of...Luke, the other one...your uh...dad....have you seen him at all?"

"No...and I better not. I want my hand to stay healed."

You saw it in his darkened eyes, the instant rage when he spoke of him....and now, you were fretting over having to tell him what you knew. You let out a deep sigh and forced yourself to do it.

"Landy...he umm...my mom sold him Jason's boat, the Haunted Star."

If someone had dropped a pin, it would have been heard through the entire bar.

"Wwwwwhat???" he snapped as he sat straight up, staring you down.

"Yeah, that was my reaction as well. I..don't have an explanation other than my mom was trying to rid of Jason's things that reminded her of his life of crime and...I think your dad intentionally bought it to bring back that life that once existed on that yacht, which means...he plans on staying around here... I'm so sorry...I dreaded having to tell you but you deserved to know."

"That son of a bitch." he growled and chugged down his beer, then motioned for more. "And I can guarantee you, Ethan will be right at his side through it all. After everything Ethan knows that piece of shit did to me...to him even that he won't admit. Just proves how sick in the head Ethan really is. Like father like son."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I may not have known your dad, but I can tell you're nothing like him. You're a healer and a good person Landy."

He gazed at you for a moment and then chugged down the new glass and motioned for more. "Just keep em coming, please and thank you!"

"So...what's up with you calling me Landy now?" he then asked with a soft smile.

"Hell I don't know. I guess it just rubbed off on me from hearing Lee and Luke call you that. I...I hope it's ok?? I will stop if you don't want me to."

"Nah...I don't mind. I kinda like the way you say it. It has a different kind of ring to it." he grinned.

You forced a smile and then fondled your glass as you stared at it. You just couldn't get Lee out of your head and all the shit with Jason. Orlando then reached across the table and took your hand.

"Hey...you ok?"

"I'm just trying to wrap my head around it all."

"Well, how about for one night, you stop trying and let loose a bit. I'm supposed to meet Jimmy and some guys here in a bit. Stay and have some fun with me. I've missed you."

"You want ME to hang out with you and a bunch of dudes?" you chuckled.

"Yep...I sure do. Come on. Jimmy likes you....and well...so do I. It would make my night if you'd stay with me."

All you could hear in that moment was Lee's voice telling you that Orlando was in love with you, and you never wanted to believe it...but now...you did. The way his eyes lit up when he looked at you told on him and you now wondered if it was a good idea to stay....but then, why not??? you thought. It was better than going home and crying yourself to sleep in the apartment across from Craig.

"Fiiiine. You twisted my arm. Bring on the drinks!"

About fifteen minutes later, Jimmy and two guys came in and you all moved to a larger table and then everything became somewhat normal with conversations and loud laughter, music and drinking. This went on for about two hours and for once, your mind was free of pain....and so was Orlando's. It was good to see him smile again.

As the music played, a song came on that resonated with you big time and you were feeling damn good too, so you got up and began dancing and singing without a care in the world, even if it the song made you think of Lee.

"I didn't wanna leave babe, I didn't wanna fight, started to cry but then I remembered I can buy myself flowers!! Write my name in the sand!! Talk to myself for hours, say things you don't understand. I can take myself dancing!! i can hold my own hand...yeah I can love me better than you can!!"

"Wanna bet!!" Orlando shouted and pulled you on his lap, wrapping his arms around you and laughing while Jimmy bellowed in laughter, clapping like a seal.

Everything was good. You didn't mind his arms around you. It felt nice. You didn't have a shadow of a doubt in your mind that Orlando was into someone else and that's what you craved. To be someone's one and only and not just because they said and showed you that you were, but because you KNEW you were....and with Lee, you didn't know that like you once believed you did.

Annnd, no matter what you did, it still hurt like hell and Lee plagued your mind. Damn him, you thought and got up.

"I need to use the lady's room."

"Ahh, yes. Me too. Oh...no no..I mean the boy's room." Orlando said as he stumbled up in laughter.

Orlando was still laughing as he relieved himself. He hadn't had this much fun since he could remember and it was all because of you. But he felt terribly guilty for feeling even the slightest bit happy that you and Lee may be at the end of the road. Did he really have a chance with you if that were the case? The doubts were there, for he knew deep down inside, it would always be Lee that your heart desired, even if you couldn't be with him.

As he washed his hands, his thoughts were intruded by a familiar face that walked in and didn't see Orlando. The man he stared at in the mirror was none other than his father....Luke Sr.

In his stunned state, Orlando held his head down as his dad did his business and left without even washing his hands. That was a perfect example of the dirty ass man he was.

Orlando quickly walked out to see where he was. Had he been in the bar the whole time, stalking him from a dark corner and decided to follow him into the bathroom to taunt him?? His thoughts ran wild and he couldn't focus as he watched Luke drink the last of his beer, then put on his coat and leave. In his frazzled state, Orlando spun around and accidentally ran into some woman, knocking her drink all over her.

"Are you fucking blind???!" she barked.

That did it. That was enough. Orlando was seeing red. He had to get the hell out of there and follow him. He had waited a long time for this moment and there was no better time in his eyes to unleash his fury on the man who abused him as a child in the most sinful of ways.

He grabbed his coat and stormed out the door with you running after him. As he got outside, he caught a glimpse of his dad heading to another bar down the road.

"Orlando!! Wait! Where are you going???"

"Nowhere...I just need some air." he flatly said, looking like he was going to hyperventilate.

"Hey, what's wrong?? What happened?? You're sweating. Talk to me."

"Nothing Josie. Just go home. I gotta go." he anxiously said as he shook his head and then marched off down the sidewalk.

"What??? Like hell I will. Wait up!!" you shouted and ran back to get your coat and purse, then after him.

Orlando rounded the corner, wanting to get it over with because he knew you were coming after him and he didn't want you to witness it or also try to stop him like he knew you would do.

There stood his father, smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk as he snuck up on him.

"Hello...dad." he said with extreme sarcastic emphasis.

"Ahhh. Landy. I was wondering when you would seek me out."

"Shut the fuck up. I would rather eat broken glass than be anywhere near you. It is you that has come here to find me, is it not?? To torture me some more because years of rape and battering wasn't enough for you???"

You just came around the corner and froze when you saw Orlando and heard what he said to the man who was obviously his dad. Now you understood what happened, that Orlando had seen him back in the bar.

You decided to stay back and give Orlando some privacy to let him have his long awaited say, but you got your pepper spray and phone out, ready to call 911 in case something bad happened. if that man even attempted to hurt Orlando, you would make sure the poor excuse of a father had no eyeballs left.

"Always were a drama queen, weren't you Lando. A real piece of theater, lost in your fantasy world of make believe."

"Fantasy??!! What you did to me was no fucking fantasy!!! Nor was it make believe!!"

Actually, you wanted to go over there right now and rip his other balls off for what he had done to him and for basically calling Orlando a liar when you knew it was true.

"So, what are you going to do? Kick my ass? Is that why you followed me boy?? I saw you back there at the bar. If you think you got what it takes to take me down, give it your best shot you pussy ass little girl. You can't even fucking swim. Why don't you do yourself a favor and go take a dive in the ocean."

Why did Luke's last words instantly send a flash through your mind of the two dreams you had of Orlando and you both drowning??? You prayed to god it wasn't another sign of some sort.

What you saw next, you couldn't quite conceive. Orlando pulled something out of his pocket that appeared to be a small sledgehammer and then he immediately began walking towards Luke.

"Orlando NO!!" you shouted as you came running up, which caused him to back away.

"Give it to me Landy...Now!!" you commanded as you tugged at the weapon which he refused to let go of.

"Damn it josie, I told you to go home! Get out of here!"

"I am NOT leaving you here with him! He's not worth spending your life in prison! Please...please give me the hammer and let's leave together Ok???"

"Would you look at that? Why Lando, you actually got yourself a girlfriend and she has bigger balls than you do! Where'd you find this one? On some porn site? Are you sure she's even a girl? I mean, I know how you enjoy dick."

Orlando charged him and pinned him against the wall by his throat, holding the hammer up and ready to swing it.

"You shut your filthy mouth!! Don't you ever talk about her like that!!!"

You don't know how you did it, adrenaline maybe? But you rushed up behind him and yanked the hammer out of his hand as hard as you could and then held your pepper spray out.

"Get the hell out of here before I call the police, you piece of trash."

Luke belted out a laugh. "Call them. He's the one who attacked me. I know who you are little girl. Your Morgan's sister. Hey, you'll have to stop by the boat sometime and let me know what you think of the new look it's going to get. You're more than welcome to....COME aboard. Hope to see you soon."

Off he strolled while you turned to hold Orlando back. He then glared at you.

"Are you insane?? That was my chance to end him!"

"Stop it! You're drunk and not thinking straight and I know you'll thank me later for saving your ass yet once again! Now come on. I'm taking you home! Let's go!"

@redeemer46

[that1fangirrl]

"The Blue"

CW: Nothing too crazy I think...Feminine pronouns and descriptions, alcohol

A new Jazz Club called “The Blue” opens up in Hell's Kitchen. Flyers have been given to nearly any person that passes by the big flashy building. That definitely includes the tall, sweet strawberry blonde secretary of Nelson and Murdock. She comes in like usual, taking her jacket off and looking in each office for the others in the firm. Finding them in Matt’s office, she slams the paper down onto his desk with a big smile. “What’s this?” “I believe it is a piece of paper, Foggy.” “It’s a flyer for this new club a few blocks down. I was thinking it could be fun to check out a new place. Especially since we just had that big win this week.” So now the three lawyers find themselves walking into the dimly lit place on a friday night. It isn’t crowded and dingy; more of a polished and quiet speakeasy like tone to the club. A huge contrast from the usual Josie’s. They make their way over to the more brightly lit bar in the back of the building, taking their seats and waiting for the bartender. “Good Evening folks, my name is Nikolai and I will be your bartender tonight. What can I get started for you guys?” A unanimous answer of “beer” leaves the patrons’ mouths. Immediately, they are welcomed with three beers of a higher and better quality than they’re used to. 

The night carries on with the three talking amongst themselves about the upcoming weekend, more beers coming to them and the sweet melodies from the live band playing tonight. After a couple of songs, one of the musicians comes up to the mic. His deep voice amplifies in the mic, “Thank you all for coming out tonight to “The Blue”. We appreciate all of the love and support we’ve been hearing on this beautiful night. But none of this would be possible if it weren’t for this lovely dream of a woman here. Give her a round of applause folks. Indigo, come on out.”

The most drop dead gorgeous woman walks up on stage. The crowd is visibly and audibly taken away by her appearance. She’s wearing a beautiful silky black dress that stops just short of her knees with a small slit up the thigh. Her legs are long and smooth as she walks. Her long dark curls stop at her shoulders, bouncing along everytime she moves. Matt’s eyebrows rise slightly above his red specs. She smells amazing. A strong scent of vanilla and rose water wrapped around his nose hairs. 

“Like our sweet Samuel said, thank you all so much for coming out tonight. I honestly was a little nervous because of the whole ‘New York scene’. It’s very different from our old spot back in Paris. I know, it sounds so snobby of me. But trust me, when I say, this is so much more lively and fun than there. I hope you all are truly immersing yourself in the vibes we bring tonight. Have another drink, smoke in the bathroom… hell, kiss a stranger if that makes you feel complete.” The crowd laughs a little. “But seriously let go tonight. Be yourselves and invite a new feeling into you.” She hugs her arms around herself with closed eyes, before putting them up into the air with a long exhale. “Now for this particular hour of tonight, I will be singing one of my favorite songs. A song I’d say brought this very band together 6 years ago. Boys… take it away.” 

A soft rhythm begins to play. Karen turns to Matt and Foggy, “oh, I love this song.” Foggy chimes in with a “Me too. It’s such a good album. Don’t you think, Matt?” Matt can’t respond. He’s too entranced by the voice of the woman a mere few feet away. He recognises the song as “Is It a Crime by Sade”. A song he often listened to in the comfort of his own apartment. Indigo sounded amazing. Damn near close to how Sade herself sang the song. He could listen to her sing for hours. Her voice was so sultry and smooth. The live instruments added to her whimsical nature. It was like a siren came down to earth just to sing for him. He was fully immersed in the beauty of her voice. And if he could see, he imagines she’d be just as breathtaking. 

When the song ends, the band continues on without Indigo’s beautiful light vocals. She goes around the room, checking on just about every table to make sure everyone is having a fun and safe time. She stops by the bar, asking Nikolai for water as she turns to speak to the only three left in her path. “Hi there. Are you guys enjoying yourselves?” Karen and Foggy nod excitedly. “This is a really nice place. I’m glad we have a new spot to come to.” Indigo beams, “well I’m glad to hear that. It took forever to find this place. I guess I lucked out.” Karen comes closer to her, extending a hand. “I’m Karen Page and these are my colleagues, Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock.” She gestures towards the men, receiving small waves in return. “Nice to meet you guys.” Her eyes linger for a while, stopping slightly to look over at the man who has yet to speak. Karen notices her trailing eyes and gestures to Foggy. “Um, you know, I think Foggy and I are gonna go dance for a bit, Matt. Why don’t you keep Indigo company.” He sighs lightly and nods his head. 

Indigo takes a seat next to the quiet fellow. He turns in his chair, finally letting out a few words. “You have a very beautiful voice.” Her head whips towards him, tucking back some hair. “Oh. Thank you.” Her cheeks heat up a little. “How long have you been a singer?” “Almost my whole life. But I only started doing it professionally once I graduated from college. So I guess technically 10 years or so.” He nods, “that’s impressive. And you said you’re from France, right? Why come to New York?” She sips her drink before answering. “Well actually, I was born here in the states. I just went abroad because I wanted to find myself. That’s where I met Sammy and them. The rest was just history I guess.” She shrugs lightly. “What about you? Are you a New York native?” He chuckles, “only place I know is here. I went to Columbia for Law. We have our own firm not too far from here. And well, here we are now.” “That’s still impressive. Don’t sell yourself short. It takes a lot to have your own office space. I think it’s actually quite admirable.” She lifts his chin up to meet his unseeing gaze. “You are more than you think you are.” And with that she places a soft kiss to his cheek and walks off with a small smile on her lips. 

Karen and Foggy skip happily back towards him. “So what happened? Did you get her number? Are we coming here again? Matt? Hello?” He straightens his glasses. “Yes… We’re coming back again.” He says breathily.

A/N: Soooooo I just went ahead and wrote the jazz club concept. This is only one part, so if you want follow, I will for sure do it. I was indeed listening to Sade while writing this, so I thought why not have her sing my favorite song of hers. Also the name Indigo is just a stage name. I figured it was pretty cute. I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. Love ya, bye <3

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, so I made a post earlier this evening that said Jimmy Carr was in the So You Think You're Funny (Edinburgh-based competition for new comedians) finals in 1999 with Andy Zaltzman (and with Russell Howard and Josie Long, they all lost to the winner David O'Doherty), but there was some confusion because Jimmy Carr wasn't listed on the Wikipedia page. This led to a friend of mine going down a rabbit hole of trying to work out whether there's definite evidence that Jimmy Carr really was there, which led me to dig through old Bugle transcripts and see if I can find any time when Andy Zaltzman may have referenced having once been in some comedy competition finals with Jimmy Carr.

None of that is really important, though. That was just context to explain why I ended up digging up this clip, of Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver on a Bugle episode from 2012, discussing the tax scandals that included Jimmy Carr. It doesn't actually mention the competition I was looking for, but it's a funny enough clip for me to want to share:

First of all, I need to draw attention to that technically perfect pun run at about 1:30. It was an extremely short one, only four points long, but he hit every one nicely. K2 is the name of both a mountain and a tax scam, I assume that's how he started as it was exactly right. Then he hit "Everest" quite successfully, I thought that surely he can't get to "Lhotse" as cleanly, but then he did! Only one more peak to scale, and I thought, how on Earth is he going to get to that fourth mountain that's <8,500 metres? That's too long a word.

"Kangchenjunga" = "Catchin' Jim Carr". Break it down - it works on every syllable. Amazingly perfect.

The other 7 or so minutes of that clip aren't all that important, they don't cover any of what I was originally looking for, but I thought I'd leave in the whole story just because it is a delight to listen to Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver talk to each other. Also, after all those years of contradictory information about whether Jimmy Carr is a dick or a wonderful person whom all he comedians speak highly of (or used to - that doesn't seem as true these days) - nothing has cleared up that confusion for me more than hearing John Oliver, say "Jimmy Carr is a lovely man, I like him very much, and I'm not in the least bit surprised to see that he was involved in something like this". I remember the first time I heard that episode, and went - Ohhhh, I get it now. Jimmy Carr is one of those guys. One of those guys where you're like - "Yeah he's my friend and I like the guy, but he's got a ruthless streak and I bet he's doing lots of terrible things I don't know about." Okay, that makes sense. We all know that guy.

Though on the other hand, in the last few years, the world has had a bit of a reckoning involving trying to be less "he's still my friend, though" about those guys, and more "Actually I don't want to tacitly endorse whatever shitty things this guy is probably doing by being cool with him", which might be why in recent years, other comedians seem less quick to say things like "You know, Jimmy Carr actually is a nice guy, in real life." And more quick to - actually, now that I think about it, I have seen David O'Doherty reference Jimmy Carr in 2024, and it was in the Edinburgh show I saw him do live a few weeks ago, where the crowd erupted in cheers after DO'D took a quick, and relatively mild but still clear and pointed dig at Jimmy Carr. This dig clearly communicated "that guy's kind of a dick", but unfortunately did not clarify whether or not they were definitely in the finals of a comedy competition together in 1999.

[butchdykekondraki]

What's SCP even about

i cant answer this in a short answer im so sorry wiki. you activated my fucking autism trap card im SO sorry

the scp foundation is a collection of stories based off of an uncountable amount of (sometimes anomalous) doctors and anomalous entities (and objects and towns and worlds and people and also concepts sometimes. like as in the concept IS an scp.) with infinite canons and infinite universes. the general formatting of the documents themselves are based around government documents, being written in the formatting of declassified lab papers. you can pretty much pull up any scp if you want an example of what i mean by that but its a very specific type of formatting and it's completely purposeful. the scp foundation is based around the idea of anomalous entities existing within our everyday lives and needing to be contained (as to why its called the ''secure, contain, protect'' foundation) and the documents themselves are all written as if the scps themselves are real. the entire site is based off of the idea that it's a declassified government site that people found, with everything being in the style of a false government agency. the scps themselves can range from something innocuous (like josie the half cat, a cat that is a completely normal and functioning cat but shes missing her back half) to something that could literally end the world (like the scarlet king which is. like. its own fucking thing in and of itself) but the whole general like. broad idea of it is like. what if that pair of glasses was Evil. what if that cat was Wrong. what if YOU were built wrong. anyway its everythang to me Please get into the scp foundation if any of this sounds cool

[tabletochka500]

Josie Agapova (Biography)

A young girl Josie Agapova was born in Russia in 2000. She had a strange appearance, so she is almost not friends with anyone and she has no friends. Many people stayed away from Josie pretending not to see her, while others ran away in panic or fainted. No one knew if Josie was dangerous or ready to attack, in fact, this girl is calm and always has the same expression on her face.

When Josie Agapova turned 7, her parents took her to school as an ordinary child. This is where it all started, the whole story is based on observation, schoolchildren could easily describe their peer, because she attracts attention very much. Josie has loose long blonde hair, almost yellow, very pale skin like a sheet of paper, completely black eyes, long eyelashes as if glued, red lips as if in lipstick. She's like a living porcelain doll, only this is how Josie was different from other people, no, it wasn't the surgeon who worked on her, in fact, the girl was born like that.

Josie spent most of her time outdoors in the park, in the woods, in the field.

At the age of 12, the girl began to move her arms, legs and head unnaturally, Josie did not notice this, as if this was a special case. Her parents often stopped staying at home and locked her indoors, justifying that it was necessary. Josie had nothing to do in the room except watch TV, eat all sorts of goodies, try to make up with her mom's makeup, or just sleep.

At the age of 16, she began to bleed for no reason from her eyes, ears, nose, mouth and in various crevices from where possible. Josie thought she was sick, she needed to see a doctor urgently, but the big problem was the parents, who behaved as if they knew something, but did not tell. They said it wasn't fatal or contagious. Now Josie is homeschooled, this is necessary so that outsiders do not see all the horror that is happening to Josie. Now mom and dad are not only not at home, their phone is even turned off, it feels like they have a professional escape plan or they have serious business.

At the age of 18, Josie went missing, no one knows what this is related to, the police were called after the CCTV camera recorded something unexplained. The camera showed a young girl with long blonde hair wearing a short dark blue dress with straps. It would be all right, it was like a 5-minute walk, but in the end the girl's body began to squirm in an incomprehensible way, as if that girl was not a person. In the night atmosphere, it looked like in horror movies, but much scarier because the event was actually happening.

It seems that the girl noticed the camera and came closer to it, probably to see it, or something else. Here the police saw her face surprised, eyebrows raised, big black eyes on a perfect white face and a slight little smile. Familiar people of this girl confirmed that this was the same strange Josie, little was known about her. People wanted to forget about her like a dream, even though she disappeared, but still no one wants to run into this girl.

Facts:

- Josie is the only child in a family in which no one paid attention

- Josie's favorite movies are horror

- She's NOT a lesbian, Josie doesn't drown for LGBT, she doesn't have a boyfriend and a girlfriend!

[lovelykikill]

Whispers of Avonlea

Chapter 1: Blooms in the Garden of Imagination, where they weave their dreams

1892 in Prince Edward Island, Canada. More specifically Avonlea, the small little town that was called home by its no more than 200 loyal residents. Avonlea had its charm, there was no denying it, although small in size and population it was very pretty, the sea bathing the coast beautifully, the houses nicely built many meters apart from one another, the farms kept neatly from the outside perspective, the people seemingly regular and sympathetic to newcomers, nice weather and everything else someone could expect from a small town such as Avonlea. Prince Edward Island by itself was possibly the prettiest little Island Canada had to offer.

He had just come back from a long travel with his sickly father just a week or two ago, John had wanted to see the mountains before dying, Gilbert hated it when he said such things, dying, made him feel uneasy, he was just a boy, what was he supposed to do if his father died? He has no mother, how would he live alone? How would he deal with it? It made him overthink so he would scold his father whenever he mentioned his passage. In the week or so he came back, he met a new girl “Anne, with an E” as she asks to be called, she is an orphan that had been adopted by the Cuthberts, the girl had an intriguing appearance as well as personality, fiery red hair, freckles all over her face and hands, the bluest big eyes possible, pale, thin and short, short temper from what he saw, very expressive and imaginative, he hadn’t had the chance to talk with her yet as it seemed the girls pulled her away from him whenever they could.

Anne Shirley had arrived in Avonlea around a week before Gilbert came back from his trip, she had a hard time in the town but found a kindred spirit in Diana Barry, although finding Diana made her life easier, the disappointment she felt when the reality didn’t quite suit her imagination was very difficult for her, she quickly found that her personality would have to be a bit diluted to be liked and fit in with the other people of Avonlea, she knew that was what she had to do, she mustered up the will to do it around specific settings, such as during lessons and around other girls, Mr. Philips didn’t exactly appreciate her expressive reading or loud voice, as for the girls, they didn’t appreciate her stories from when she was in other families.

Gilbert had tried to befriend her however she learned that that would be an awful idea, when Gilbert was trying to talk to her while entering the schoolhouse she was met with a crying Ruby Ghillis surrounded by angry girls, Josie Pye explained quickly that Ruby had ‘dibs’ on Gilbert as she had liked him since they were little and if she didn’t stay away from him she would be ignored by the girls.

Anne liked to be optimistic, but she couldn’t deny Josie Pye was mean, and so were Billy Andrews and his friends. It was frustrating and not what she had imagined, but Anne just figured she would try to not get attention around Josie and try to keep away from Billy Andrews.

Billy and his friends tended to be the first ones to leave the small classroom when dismissed by Mr. Philips so Anne made it a point to take longer to leave, that particular day Diana had to leave early as her parents had arranged a meeting she had to attend, so Anne had to go back the way to Green Gables by herself, not that she’d mind, her imagination was enough to keep her entertained for longer than she could count.

She got up from her wooden chair once she thought Billy was far enough from the schoolhouse; grabbing her plain pencil box Matthew made for her: her slate: and books. Moving over to the cloakroom, she placed her items in her basket, decorated with the flowers, leaves, and sticks she had found on the path to school like she did every day, she dressed her coat, put on her hat, and laid her plain gray scarf loosely around her neck, it was Autumn and thankfully not cold enough for her to need to put it on properly. Leaving the classroom once she was sure she had everything, remembering the day she had gone home without her milk bottle and Marilla scolded her endlessly. When she checked the mental checklist and was satisfied with the results she left the white schoolhouse.

The air was crisp, and a gentle breeze whispered secrets through the branches, encouraging Anne’s mind to wander to her favorite daydreams. Today, she found herself thinking of Princess Cordelia, a tragic figure she had conjured up in her mind. Cordelia was beautiful, of course, with long, flowing hair as dark as the deepest night and eyes that sparkled with a pearl of wisdom and sadness far beyond her years.

“Oh, Cordelia,” Anne murmured, her voice soft and dreamy, “how terrible it must have been to live in a castle filled with such splendor yet feel so utterly alone.”

Anne could almost see Cordelia now, standing on a balcony high above the kingdom, looking out over the vast lands that were hers to rule, yet feeling a profound loneliness in her heart. The princess’s gown, a beautiful pink that caught the light of a thousand stars, and of course, the puff sleeves flowed around her like water, elegant and ethereal, nothing she, herself felt she could ever wear, she thought of herself as too plain, ugly, homely, and most of all her fiery hair didn't allow her to wear such colors.

“She had everything,” Anne continued, her eyes distant and filled with the sorrow she felt for her imaginary friend. “Jewels and silks, beauty, intelligence, the adoration of her subjects, and yet, she longed for the one thing she could not have: true love.”

The path twisted and turned, leading Anne deeper into the woods. She twirled a bit of her auburn hair around her finger, lost in her thoughts. In her mind’s eye, Cordelia was wandering through a moonlit garden, the scent of night-blooming flowers heavy in the air. Despite the beauty surrounding her, the princess’s heart was heavy with unspoken pain.

“And so, Cordelia roamed the gardens, night after night, hoping to find solace in the whispers of the wind,” Anne said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But the wind could only tell her stories of what was and what could never be.”

Anne stopped for a moment, looking up at the canopy of leaves above her. The sunlight filtered through, casting dappled shadows on her face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, imagining the cool, crisp air was the very breath of the enchanted forest where Cordelia lived.

“It was then, on one such lonely night, that Cordelia found a small, hidden gate at the edge of the garden,” Anne said, her eyes snapping open with excitement. “A gate she had never seen before. With a heart full of hope and a touch of fear, she pushed it open and stepped into the unknown.”

Anne’s steps quickened as she moved deeper into her story. She imagined Cordelia stepping into a mystical forest, much like the one she now wandered. It was a place of magic and mystery, where the trees seemed to whisper secrets and the air shimmered with possibilities.

“And in that magical forest,” Anne said, her voice full of wonder, “Cordelia found something she had never expected: a kindred spirit. Someone who saw her not just as a princess, but as a person with hopes and dreams, with fears and longings.”

With a sigh of contentment, Anne continued her walk, knowing that as long as she had her imagination, she would never truly be alone.

“Oh, how I wish I could be as brave as Princess Cordelia,” Anne mused aloud, her voice echoing softly among the trees. “She faced so many trials with such grace and fortitude.”

She pictured Cordelia, her long, flowing gown trailing behind her as she wandered through a similar forest, her heart heavy with the weight of loneliness. The princess’s deep dark eyes were filled with unshed tears, and her raven hair cascaded down her back like a dark waterfall.

“Tragic Cordelia, separated from society by cruel fate,” Anne continued, her voice trembling with emotion. “How she longed to find someone, yet duty and honor kept her apart. Each day, she wandered through this very forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone, to hear a voice carried in the wind.”

Anne paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the forest as if expecting to see Cordelia’s ghostly figure appear among the trees. She sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the princess’s sorrow in her own heart.

As Anne wandered deeper into the forest, the sound of the leaves crunching beneath her feet was accompanied by the gentle hum of the autumn breeze. She turned a corner, and there, standing in a sun-dappled clearing was a vision that made her heart leap into her throat.

At first, Anne thought it was just another figment of her imagination, but the figure remained steadfast as if conjured from her very thoughts. It was Princess Cordelia—or at least, it seemed to be. The girl had long, flowing hair as dark as the deepest night, cascading down her back in waves. A delicate, silver bow adorned her hair, catching the sunlight and sparkling as if encrusted with tiny diamonds.

Her gown shimmered in the afternoon light, a cascade of silken fabric in a hue of pink that seemed almost otherworldly. She was tall, with a slender, graceful frame, a year or two older than herself, and her skin was as pale and flawless as porcelain. Anne’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight, unable to believe her eyes.

“Cordelia?” Anne whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

The girl turned, her dark eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the forest around them holding its breath. Then, a soft, hesitant smile curved the girl’s lips, and Anne’s heart swelled with the possibility that her daydream had somehow, miraculously, come to life.

“Hello,” the girl said, her voice as soft and melodic as Anne had always imagined Cordelia would be.

Anne stepped closer, pinching her own arm to make sure her brain wasn’t deceiving her own eyes, attention never leaving the girl’s face. “I—I’m sorry. You just... you look so much like someone I know. Or rather, someone I imagined.”

The girl’s smile grew, and she tilted her head slightly, a gesture so familiar that it sent shivers down Anne’s spine. “My name is Chiara Everhart,” she said gently. “I just moved here from Montreal and thought I’d explore a bit.”

Anne blinked, her mind racing. “Chiara Everhart,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue, Anne’s eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Chiara Everhart! What an utterly enchanting name! It’s like a melody, so lyrical and beautiful. It sounds as if it belongs to a princess in a far-off, magical land, or perhaps the heroine of a grand, sweeping romance! Oh, how fortunate you are to possess such a name! You look just like... well, just like Princess Cordelia from my stories.”

Chiara chuckled softly, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Thank you. You’re very kind.” Chiara’s eyes sparkled with curiosity and understanding. “Really? That’s quite a coincidence. I’ve always loved the idea of being a character in a story.”

Anne’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful! Imagine, Princess Cordelia finally stepping out of the pages of my imagination and into the real world!”

Chiara laughed softly, a sound that was both musical and comforting. “I’d love to hear more about her,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. “Perhaps you could tell me as we walk? May I ask your name?”

Anne’s exuberance faded slightly as she sighed, casting her gaze downward. “I’m Anne. Just Anne. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. Such a plain, unremarkable name, devoid of any poetry or grandeur. But please make sure to spell it with an E, Anne with an E sounds much more romantic than Ann with no E, still nothing like magnificent Chiara Everhart.”

Chiara shook her head gently, her eyes filled with warmth. “Oh, Anne, your name is wonderful. It’s full of grace and character, just like you. And you, Anne, are anything but plain. You look like you’ve been kissed by the sun himself with those freckles. Your hair is like fiery autumn leaves, and your eyes shine with the color of the brightest water or sky.”

Anne’s face lit up, her eyes wide with wonder and disbelief, Chiara did seem to use big words romantically, and she even complimented Anne. “Do you truly think so? Oh, Chiara, how marvelous! I have always wished to be thought of as special, to have a name and a presence that captures the imagination.”

“I do,” Chiara affirmed, sincerity in her voice. “You are a rare and beautiful soul, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, with a name as lovely as the person who bears it.”

Anne’s heart soared as she took Chiara’s arm, feeling the warmth of her presence.

Anne struggled to keep pace with Chiara, whose long strides and graceful movements seemed to make her glide over the uneven forest floor. Despite the height difference, Anne’s enthusiasm and energy propelled her forward, determined not to let her new companion out of sight.

“Oh, Chiara,” Anne exclaimed breathlessly, “you walk like a queen through her enchanted realm! I imagine you’re exploring your vast kingdom, seeking out hidden secrets and lost treasures.”

Chiara turned her head slightly, a smile playing on her lips. “Do I? I’m just trying to find my way around these woods.”

Anne’s eyes sparkled as she continued, hardly pausing for breath. “And here, beneath the ancient oaks, you discover a hidden glade where the fairies dance by moonlight, their delicate wings shimmering like the stars. You’re their beloved princess, the one they’ve waited for all these centuries.”

Chiara chuckled softly, clearly amused by Anne’s vivid imagination. “That sounds wonderful, Anne. What happens next?”

Anne’s face lit up with excitement as she weaved her tale, momentarily forgetting that Chiara was not just a character in her story. “Next, you find an ancient, forgotten well. It’s said that whoever looks into its depths can see the face of their true love. You lean over the edge, and—”

Chiara gently interrupted, her voice warm with amusement. “Anne, you have the most amazing imagination. Do you often create stories like this?”

Anne blushed, realizing how carried away she had become. “Oh, yes! I can’t help it. Every person I meet, every place I go, there’s always a story waiting to be told. And you, you’re like a character straight out of a fairy tale.”

Chiara smiled, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Thank you, Anne. It’s quite a compliment to be part of one of your stories.”

Anne’s cheeks flushed with pride and embarrassment. “I just can’t help but admire you. Your elegance, your poise, it’s all so enchanting. You’re like Princess Cordelia brought to life, walking here beside me.”

Chiara’s pace slowed slightly, making it easier for Anne to keep up. “Well, if I’m Princess Cordelia, then what shall we do next in our enchanted forest?”

Anne’s eyes widened with delight. “Oh, we must prepare for the grand ball in the fairy court! You’ll need a crown of flowers, of course, and a magic wand to grant wishes.”

Chiara laughed, clearly enjoying the play. “A crown of flowers, you say? Then we should gather the most beautiful blossoms we can find!”

They darted around the forest, picking wildflowers and weaving them into a delicate crown for Chiara. Anne’s nimble fingers worked quickly, and soon enough, she placed the floral creation atop Chiara’s head, admiring her handiwork.

“You look absolutely regal,” Anne declared. “Now, with this wand”—she handed Chiara a stick adorned with a few flowers and leaves—“you can grant three wishes to anyone you choose.”

Chiara took the makeshift wand with a graceful nod. “Very well, Lady Anne. What is your first wish?”

Anne’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I wish for…a grand feast under the stars, with all our friends and magical creatures in attendance!”

Chiara waved the wand dramatically. “Granted! And for your second wish?”

Anne pondered for a moment, her imagination running wild. “I wish for a magical adventure, one that takes us to far-off lands and mysterious places.”

Chiara waved the wand again. “Granted! And your third wish, my dear Lady Anne?”

Anne’s face softened, her voice filled with sincere admiration. “I wish for our friendship to grow ever stronger, just like in the stories.”

Chiara’s eyes softened as well, and she waved the wand one last time. “Granted, Lady Anne, with all my heart.”

They laughed and continued their game, creating elaborate stories and pretending to be characters from Anne’s vivid imagination. The forest around them seemed to come alive with their words, the colors of autumn painting their path with hues of magic and possibility.

As Anne and Chiara continued their playful journey through the forest, Anne’s mind suddenly sparked with a vivid memory. She recalled the special friendship ritual she had once performed with Diana, a ritual that had bonded them as kindred spirits for all time. Anne knew that she must share this cherished tradition with Chiara to seal their new bond.

“Oh, Chiara!” Anne exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. “I just remembered something very important. We must perform a friendship ritual to ensure we remain kindred spirits forever!”

Chiara’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “A friendship ritual? That sounds wonderful! How do we do it?”

Anne’s face flushed with excitement as she began to explain. “It’s very simple but incredibly meaningful. First, we need to find a special place, a secret spot where only the truest of friends can meet. Then, we must each bring a token, something that represents our friendship.”

Chiara nodded eagerly, clearly enchanted by the idea. “Where shall we find this special place?”

Anne looked around, her eyes scanning the forest until she found a secluded clearing surrounded by ancient trees. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, casting a magical glow over the area.

“Over there!” Anne pointed. “That clearing looks perfect. It’s as if it’s waiting just for us.”

They made their way to the clearing, the air around them humming with anticipation. Anne reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, worn ribbon, a keepsake from one of her many imaginative adventures.

“This ribbon represents all the stories we’ll share,” Anne said, holding it out with reverence.

Chiara rummaged in her satchel and produced a delicate, silver bracelet. “And this bracelet represents the bond of friendship that grows stronger every day.”

Anne took the ribbon and tied it around the bracelet, binding their tokens together. Then she looked at Chiara, holding her pinky finger up for them to lock it together, her eyes brimming with sincerity.

“Now, we must recite the pledge,” Anne instructed. “I’ll say the first part, and you can repeat after me.”

Chiara nodded, her face glowing with excitement.

Anne took a deep breath and began, her voice clear and full of emotion. “I, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, pledge to be your kindred spirit and friend, to share in your joys and sorrows, and to stand by you through all of life’s adventures.”

Chiara repeated the words with equal sincerity, “I, Chiara Everhart, pledge to be your kindred spirit and friend, to share in your joys and sorrows, and to stand by you through all of life’s adventures.”

Anne continued, “With this token, we seal our friendship, and promise to keep it sacred, now and forevermore.”

Chiara echoed, “With this token, we seal our friendship, and promise to keep it sacred, now and forevermore.”

They placed the ribbon-wrapped bracelet in the center of the clearing, a symbol of their new bond. Anne looked at Chiara, her heart swelling with happiness.

“Now, we are officially kindred spirits,” Anne declared, her eyes shining.

Chiara beamed, her dark eyes sparkling with joy.

Anne took Chiara’s hands in hers, feeling the warmth and connection between them. “We’re kindred spirits, and that’s the most magical thing of all.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the forest, Anne and Chiara realized it was time to part ways. The sky shifted from the golden hues of late afternoon to the deep purples and blues of twilight, signaling the end of their magical day together.

“I guess we should head home before it gets too dark,” Anne said, a tinge of reluctance in her voice.

Chiara nodded, her expression mirroring Anne’s wistfulness. “Yes, but I’m so glad we spent this time together, Anne. I’ll cherish our friendship ritual.”

“So will I, Chiara. It’s the beginning of something truly special,” Anne replied, giving her new friend a warm hug.

As the two friends bid each other farewell, they promised to reunite soon before making their way to their respective homes. Anne increased her pace as she realized Marilla and Matthew would be eagerly awaiting her return.

Upon finally reaching the familiar Green Gables, it stood as a tranquil sanctuary under the night sky, its charming farmhouse silhouette framed by the delicate glow of moonlight. From Anne's perspective, the house was a comforting beacon of warmth and safety amidst the cool, crisp night air. The familiar gabled roof and quaint dormer windows seemed to glow softly, reflecting the gentle light of the stars that twinkled above.

The yard, usually alive with the colors and sounds of day, was now a serene expanse, bathed in silvery luminescence. The ancient trees cast long, gentle shadows across the lawn, their branches swaying softly in the late evening breeze, whispering secrets to one another. The garden, a riot of blossoms during the day, now going to slumber peacefully, its fragrances mingling with the cool night air, creating a soothing and almost magical ambiance.

Inside, the soft amber light spilling from the windows hinted at the coziness within. The kitchen, always the heart of Green Gables, emitted a warm, inviting glow. Anne could almost hear the crackling of the hearth fire and the quiet hum of Marilla’s evening tasks, creating a lullaby of domestic contentment. The aroma of freshly baked bread and a hint of Marilla’s lavender sachets mingled in the air, a sensory tapestry that spoke of home and love.

The parlor, with its polished wooden furniture and carefully arranged knick-knacks, held an air of timeless elegance. Anne imagined the soft ticking of the grandfather clock, the gentle rustle of the curtains, and the occasional creak of the floorboards, all adding to the symphony of nighttime sounds that made Green Gables so unique.

As she gazed at her beloved home, Anne’s heart swelled with a profound sense of belonging and gratitude. Every corner of Green Gables, every shadow and flicker of light, held a story, a memory. From the adventures and dreams she had woven into its very fabric to the quiet moments of reflection, the farmhouse was not just a structure but a living, breathing entity filled with love, dreams, and endless possibilities.

Under the canopy of the star-studded sky, Green Gables stood as a testament to all that Anne cherished—her sanctuary, her muse, her home.

Anne noticed a warm glow emanating from the windows. The amber light spilling out into the dusk signaled that Marilla and Matthew were patiently awaiting her return. Eager to escape the cool evening air, she hastened inside, her heart quickening with anticipation and relief.

In the cozy kitchen, Marilla was engaged in a worried conversation with Matthew about Anne not being home yet. The comforting aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering stew filled the air, mingling with the crackling of the hearth. As Anne entered, Marilla's sharp eyes immediately detected her, a hint of concern in her expression.

"Anne, where have you been? It's getting late, and you know how worried I get," Marilla scolded gently, her voice tinged with apprehension but softened by her undeniable affection for the girl.

Matthew, with his gentle demeanor and kind eyes, raised his gaze from his seat, mirroring Marilla's worry. "Did you have a good time, Anne?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm to Anne's slightly frazzled nerves.

Anne nodded enthusiastically, her face aglow with the exhilaration of the day's adventures. "Oh, yes, Matthew! I met the most extraordinary girl, Chiara Everhart. We had such a magical time exploring the woods, spinning tales of wonder and make-believe."

Marilla's stern expression softened slightly at Anne's unbridled joy, but her discerning eyes quickly scanned Anne's appearance for any signs of trouble. "Anne, where's your basket?" she asked, noticing its absence.

Anne's eyes widened in realization, her heart sinking. "Oh no! I must have left it in the forest while Chiara and I were lost in our stories. I got so caught up in the adventures that I completely forgot about it."

Marilla released a sigh, a mix of exasperation and empathy coloring her features. "Anne, you must be more careful. That basket contained important items," she chided, though her voice was gentle.

"I'm terribly sorry, Marilla. I didn't mean to leave it behind," Anne apologized, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a touch of guilt.

Matthew stood up, his comforting presence a steadying force. He placed a reassuring hand on Anne's shoulder. "It's alright, Anne. We can go retrieve the basket tomorrow. For now, let's have dinner. You must be famished after your adventure."

Anne looked gratefully at Matthew, the weight of her earlier mistake lifting slightly. "Thank you, Matthew. I promise to be more attentive in the future."

Marilla nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite her earlier sternness. "Just make sure you do, Anne. Now, freshen up and join us at the table."

As Anne washed her hands and prepared for supper, her mind drifted back to the enchanting afternoon spent with Chiara. The memories of their laughter and shared stories warmed her heart, a reminder of the magic and wonder that could be found even in the simplest of moments.

Meanwhile, Chiara made her way back to Everhart Manor, the day’s adventure still vivid in her mind. The dim light of the setting sun cast long shadows along the path, illuminating her way home in a serene and ethereal glow. The air was cool and crisp, filled with the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the distant chirping of crickets.

As she strolled through the twilight, her thoughts danced between the enchanting stories she and Anne had spun that afternoon. It was then, among the scattered leaves and the gentle rustle of the wind, that she noticed a familiar basket lying near the edge of the woods.

Chiara bent down, her fingers brushing against the worn wicker. “This must be Anne’s,” she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips as she recalled their joyful time together. She decided to take it home, intending to find a way to return it to Anne the next day.

Upon reaching Everhart Manor, Chiara’s new home, stood grand and imposing against the lush backdrop of Avonlea’s countryside. The stately white mansion exuded an air of timeless elegance and sophistication, its pristine facade gleaming under the golden rays of the setting sun. Tall, fluted columns framed the entrance, supporting a balcony that overlooked the sprawling, manicured grounds. The architecture, a blend of classical and colonial styles, spoke of an era of grace and grandeur, every detail meticulously crafted to convey a sense of opulence and refinement.

As Chiara approached the manor, the wide gravel driveway crunched softly underfoot, flanked by meticulously trimmed hedges and vibrant flower beds that added splashes of color to the pristine white surroundings. Majestic oak trees stood sentinel around the property, their branches forming a natural canopy that provided both shade and a sense of seclusion.

The double doors painted a deep, welcoming blue, opened into a vast foyer bathed in soft light from a grand crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The polished marble floors gleamed underfoot, and an intricately carved staircase wound gracefully to the upper floors, its banisters adorned with delicate wrought-iron designs. Elegant sconces cast a warm glow along the walls, highlighting portraits of generations of Everharts, their dignified gazes watching over the house.

Each room within the manor spoke of luxury and careful attention to detail. The parlor, with its plush velvet furnishings and richly patterned rugs, guests to linger and converse. An ornate fireplace, its mantle adorned with fine porcelain and silver candelabras, crackled softly, adding warmth and a sense of homeliness to the otherwise grand space.

The dining room, dominated by a long mahogany table polished to a mirror-like finish, was ready to host lavish gatherings. Crystal glassware and fine china gleamed in the soft light of another chandelier, while tall windows draped with heavy silk curtains offered views of the expansive gardens beyond.

Chiara’s room, a sanctuary within this grand abode, was a haven of tranquility. Soft, pastel hues adorned the walls, and the large windows framed by billowing lace curtains allowed natural light to flood the space during the day. A canopy bed, its posts intricately carved and draped with sheer fabric, stood as the room’s centerpiece. A writing desk, cluttered with journals and sketchbooks, sat near the window, offering Chiara a perfect spot to capture her thoughts and inspirations.

Chiara walked through the grand entrance, the basket swinging gently in her hand. The manor’s stately presence loomed against the evening sky, its windows glowing warmly. Inside, the house was filled with the comforting aroma of dinner being prepared, and the flickering lantern light cast a golden hue across the elegantly furnished rooms.

She ascended the grand staircase to her room, the plush carpet muffling her footsteps. Once inside, she placed the basket on her writing desk. The soft glow of the lantern light illuminated her room, casting a warm and inviting atmosphere over her personal sanctuary filled with books, sketches, and delicate trinkets.

Curiosity piqued, Chiara examined the contents of the basket. She carefully lifted out each item, recognizing the various belongings that must have been important to Anne. School books, a slate, a small very well-made pencil box, a glass bottle stained with milk on the inside, and a handkerchief —each piece told a story of Anne’s lively spirit and imaginative mind. Chiara’s heart warmed at the thought of her new friend.

“I suppose I’ll have to return it to her tomorrow at school,” she mused aloud. “If she’s not there, surely someone will know where Anne lives.”

Settling into bed that night, Chiara felt a deep sense of contentment. The memories of the day’s adventures with Anne, the shared laughter, and the budding friendship filled her with serene happiness.

[blightbear]

3, 5, 15, 40 for mori'na and solas <3

hiiii, thank you for asking!! <3

relationship asks

3. What is their love language?

I think quality time definitely, they both enjoy others company and just having someone to bounce their ideas off of. But also small looks and touches. A look across the main hall, a brush of the pinky for reassurance. They have a lot of small tells (they’re failing spectacularly at keeping their relationship mostly under wraps).

5. What is something they like to do together?

Sit in silence together but where they’re both doing their own thing. They’ll often sit in Mo’s chambers while she rifles through and fills out reports and he’ll either be reading or sketching in a book mostly of her. Sometimes they’ll make little quips like Mo being baffled by Orlesian customs or talk about their upcoming travels. Or Solas would help with Elven vocabulary and in turn Mori’na will provide him with a sign for some of the words. They just like being in one another’s company.

15. How do they comfort one another when the other is upset?

Mori’na usually keeps a distance, giving Solas space to reach out to her. Will usually leave those frilly cakes he loves on his desk or a salve she made that helps with sleeping and then with a little note. That usually gets him to open up a bit more and Mo offers a hug in comfort.

Solas…I would say it’s awkward for him at first, his company for thousands of years were spirits and they don’t have shifting emotions like the living do. He’s been learning though. He’s come to offer his council, yet he’s learned that she gets more angry if he offers ‘solutions’ so he rather just sits there listening and allowing her to vent. She’ll usually figure it out mid vent, but if not then he’ll ask if he can offer his opinion.

He’ll also draw her a hot both during a rather stressful day. Josie had slipped in a little tidbit during a reports conversation about Mo mentioning it at some point or another. She even slipped him a recipe for a bath salt concoction that includes scent information that she’s secretly been asking her. He’ll imbue some magic in the water to make it stay warm. Mo tries very hard to get him to stay but he’s the face of self control and leaves her be he’s really not she can see how red the tips of his ears get when she asks and the fluster in his voice

40. What is a song that reminds you of the OCs' relationship?

I have a multitude of songs for them several playlists with one of them being over 10hrs long so here’s a few recent ones that make me think of them (with a short explanation because I’ll take any chance to explain my reasoning lol)

Lovesick by Laufey

“When the gold rays fell on your skin / And my hair got caught in the wind / The choir sang a melancholic hymn”

This makes me think near the beginning of their romantic relationship, right after the Fade kiss, and the nostalgia surrounding it when they look back. It can be read from both perspectives, both of them going mad over it. A melancholic hymn because Solas knows it can’t last.

Love You Anyway by The Marias

“Maybe, I may never find the words to say / Wait another lifetime so that I could stay / I know that you've always been in love with me / But I know that you've also had to watch me leave”

Maybe in another life. That’s all.

Skeleton Key by Flower Face

“Did it break your heart / Or did you see it coming? / Led to the edge of the world with the sun in my eyes / When I'm back in that dream / And I'm running forever / I wake up with your hands on my lungs for the rest of my life”

They’ll never be rid of each other, both of them haunted, both of them with hands on their lungs never letting them forget that the love was there.