#and then he starts berating you in chat and if you get to wipe 7 the party vote kicks him

[majorasnightmare]

the obvious answer to "what does dirge main" is that hes a melee burst dps

but the deepcut answer is that hes a healer main because he enjoys both the complicated reactive playstyle, and also that hes in a position to make or break a party based on how petty hes feeling

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Brain going brrr for Shen Jiu food today sosisosl

So hear me out, modern au. Shen Jiu doesn’t remember anything of their past live(s) and is a relatively famous internet chef. Like he has a PO Box and everything for his fans to send gifts or letters for him to personally read and tell them either what to do or that he’s proud, he never shows his face though, a deathly fear of being found, but by who? His young son, Ming Fan, is all but excited to be Shen Jiu’s direct bloodline in this life. Shen Qingqiu was always his father figure in the first life, but the second he got hurt or something and started caring for that nasty LBH.

Sometimes, Shen Jiu feels unsafe when out on the street and going about his day to day life. He doesn’t know why but certain faces of public figures terrify him. A little lady on the street selling hand made jewelry and staring at him like she’s seen a ghost makes him physically sick. God, he despises the face of this rather famous actor, Luo Bing-something?? He hates this confusing feeling that seemed to come of nowhere. That doesn’t stop them from trying to approach once they see him.

Women in fancy clothes and strong perfume dote on him and he practically melts in their arms. Confused on how they know his name but more than happy to chat about life. They seem happy for him, ecstatic even! Men in suits ranging from serious CEO to flashy idols would stop their cars and holler at him for his time of day. He despises men like that and gives them no acknowledgement while he continues on his way. If he’s lucky they have a tight schedule, if not they follow him to the grocery store and corner him in the frozen section while he picks out treats for his son. Two men have tried that and were met with a smack by popsicles. Social media was set a blaz when videos of this Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge cornered the same man on different days and tried harassing him. Of course their stans refused to believe it was their fault. It MUST be the pretty man minding his business throughout the proof on the grocery camera. The companies dared to contact him afterwards and SJ happily sent back his lawyers information and video proof of their ‘important persons’ harassment and stalking.

One was bold enough to publicly announce that they were looking for him at a political event. Broadcasted nationwide. Shen Jiu felt nothing but disdain for that Yue man. Who says “I’m looking for a man I haven’t seen since I was young and dumb.” During a political conference?? Just because you know it’s being broadcasted!? His fans during a livestream asked what he thought about it and he angrily said that Yue man was a fool! An absolute clown for thinking that wishing some guy that doesn’t even know him will come looking for him just because he said his name!

He never had a bad experience with women until one scowled at him and he instinctively scowled back. He had his son with him that day and was trying to not be hounded. But this woman continued to follow him and berate his clothing, his hair. He could handle scrutiny of himself but the moment she said anything about Ming Fan, be it his appearance or his mother, he drew the line. Wiping around to face this despicable woman and spitting the iciest response he could without scaring Ming Fan. He remembered seeing her on a magazine before. Some model or washed up actress. God help her when he posts the body cam footage his partner made him wear after the second Grocery store incident. She scoffed at him and just continued to point and jeer at him. Wondering if the others were only following him for his pretty face. Others?? The men that harassed him and the girls that scurried with their tail between their legs?? Shen Jiu is starting to think it’s time to move. He desperately wants to mind his business and live his life but they seem adamant on harassing him.

So he does! He announces it on a video after the fact so that they can’t find him even if they try to. Perks of dating a rich ceo, anonymity is quite easy with money!

Shen Jiu happily married his now hubby and they have many more kids with Ming Fan adoring them all. He refuses to be nice to this one lady at his school that tries to be friendly with him and will run crying to SJ, who remembers her as the jewelry stand girl, and he immediately has his son in a different class. Life going well for the man who was claimed to be evil in past lives, meanwhile the others are crumbling day by day now that he’s missing and they can’t seem to find him, no matter what. (NYY may have stalked him to the remote village but she wouldn’t tell the others. She can’t risk making Shizun hate her more). The ones that harassed her were publicly pitted by their companies and forced to apologize to him specifically. When word got out that Shen Jiu vanished it did NOT look good for them.. LBH had the wrath of his mother and LQG had a mother and grandmother to fear. QQQ was fired and black listed from the media. She would have just apologized if she had insulted the man himself, but following and insulting the child too? The media scorned her already shitty gossip personality. Any time she tried to get on tv they would turn on his and snicker about her cancellation. YQY lived lavishly, but lonely. He had a political marriage and no children. He refused to touch his wife. No matter what she would say all he could do is smile and apologize. Work wise things were going well. Since they didn’t have a punching bag to push everything on and the other politicians seemed to work smoothly despite disagreements, he had no real need to focus on work 24/7. But he did. He was always in his office scouring the internet for Xiao Jiu.

SY and SQH weren’t mentioned because they literally wouldn’t do anything different from usual. They wouldn’t even meet their past life husbands (LBH would think SY is a fan and just give his usual charm and leave. He’s already found SJ, this man is just a fake clearly). SQH wouldn’t have the chance to get MBJ, the neet writer would see him once and fumble his words. Probably earning a scoff as MBJ walked off to go meet his peer/partner. The two millennials would probably bond online over a story and get close. Maybe a failed relationship but remained friends.

TLDR; Everyone reincarnated and their lives fall apart if they don’t change their attitude towards SJ. SJ doesn’t remember them and just wants to raise his baby MF in peace. Jobs are lost and public relations are plummeting because these fools couldn’t find healthier ways to reconnect with SJ.

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 25

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 part 14 part 15

part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Part 22 Part 23 

Part 24

Damienette arranged marriage: part 25

NEXT

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Tossing her weapon at him and using some of the moves she learned from maman over the years. 

This was like a spark. Immediately after Ladybug’s charge, other heroes also attacked. The battle has begun. At least until there was an ear-piercing cry of pain that got everyone’s attention.

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

During previous encounters with the superheroes Mayura had much less trouble. It was clear that Pink Tigress was much better trained. Nathalie herself was a master martial artist even outside of the suit and her skill only increased when she put on the feathered outfit. But this was something entirely different.

Mayura redirected a very quick jab of the Chakram with her fan, but she had no chance to counterattack because Pink Tigress did not lose balance and instead followed up with low kick. The blue villainess jumped up to avoid it and used the opportunity for a scissor kick of her own. Her opponent reacted in time to cross her hands in front and rebound her, but it only led to further stand-off. They proceeded to meet each other in close quarter, exchanging quick, but viscious strikes. They were pretty evenly matched, at least it looked like that for first minute or so. But with each move it became clearer that even if Mayura had skill to back her up, she lacked in terms of deadliness. Tigress was silent and composed as the fight went on, while the peacock miraculous started to panic. It might have been just three minutes at best, but Nathalie found herself at complete defence, being pushed back constantly. 

While the two women were fighting between themselves, Chat Noir and Ladybug had their own battle going on. Over the course of last month Marinette trained with her mother to utilize her yo-yo as more than just a simple thrown weapon. Before she didn’t really connect her fighting style with the projectile. It sometimes served as a shield for her to block the attacks but offensively it was much harder to utilize. At least until her mother helped her change perspective. The yo-yo was basically a blunt version of rope dart. She could use it both as a projectile as well as at close range. Sometimes the young girl even grabbed the weapon and used it like a stone to add weight to her attacks.

At the same time, it was clear that Chat Noir did not stop training. Marinette kicked herself over and over that she did not recognize clear fencing training before, but right now it was different. Adrien was now fighting with much more aggression than before. He did not back away or dodge the attacks, instead taking them on the weapon or even forearms or legs. He just pushed ahead. At first Ladybug tried to regain control and momentum she had in the beginning, but this new viciousness force her to stay defencive. She rather quickly got pressed to the wall.

“You don’t deserve to be Ladybug!�� Chat Noir shouted at her. “Cataclysm!” The pasisian heroine managed to dodge the last second as the black bubbling energy crashed into the wall. The structure crumbled and cracks started to go up and onto the roof. Adrien turned where Ladybug lunged to to avoid his attack and fumed with anger. “You took everything from me Ladybug! You turned her against me! You corrupted her! But it doesn’t matter. She is the true ladybug and not some imposter. After my father is done I will give her your miraculous and we will be the greatest heroes Paris… No! The Wor…” He didn’t finish his speech because Ladybug lunged and pushed him away as a large chunk of debris fell where he just stood. Marinette could be disgusted with what Adrien has become, but deep down she still saw a friend. A friend she would not let die. In the impact, the ring slipped from his finger and rolled away. Adrien wanted to grab it, but a quick punch from his former partner knocked him out cold.

Elsewhere in the room, Viperion just managed to get the akumatized object. He quickly broke it and released the Akuma, causing the gorilla to fall down exhausted. Luka did not have time to focus on this. He turned to where Ryuko and Hawkmoth were going at it. She was a world-class fencer, but somehow Gabriel Agreste could match her and even overpower her. He was pushing the girl back. Then, he suddenly drawn a hidden sword from his cane and lunged at Ryuko. Without second thought, Viperion tossed his lyre like a frisbee to stop the attack. It worked, but he didn’t notice Mayura and Tigress fight getting dangerously close to him. Before he even realize the blue vilanness held him in front of her like a human shield, making it impossible for him to use second chance. 

“Give up Tigress. Or the boy will suffer.” She threatened and to make it more real, she pressed the bladed fan to his neck. “We wouldn’t want to spill any snake blood today, now would we?”

Instead of answering, Pink Tigress tossed her chakram up. The spinning weapon bounced from the roof and fell at Mayura. She had no time to follow up on her threat and instead pushed the boy forward while she jumped back. She did slip the bracelet from his hand at the same time, making him detransform.

Ryuko noted the whole event in the corner of her eye. She was grateful to Luka for helping her, but she would berate the reckless boy later. For someone so composed he rushed in too often. She refocused on her battle. The plan was to keep Hawkmoth busy while other heroes get rid of any support so they could overwhelm the villain. So far it didn’t work as planned. She was on constant defensive.

“Tell me, miss Tsurugi. What would your mother say if she saw you get defeated by a civilian with so little training.” Hawkmoth teased her. “She would be so disappointed in you.” He added in mocking tone. Ryuko withstood the banter without even blinking. She tried to shrug it off, but he started to get to her. He also had to notice that her moves became more sloppy, because Gabriel continued with the mockery. “Or maybe she already resent you for skipping so many classes and trainings to just play hero? I can’t imagine what will she say…” He finally managed to catch her sword in place long enough with his own blade to use the cane he still held in the other hand to strike her arm. The pain made her let go of her weapon, but she made no notable sound. She tried to punch him, but Hawkmoth stepped out of the way and grabbed her choker instead. Kagami detransformed and fell on the ground, panting from exhaustion. 

The whole building was falling apart and more debris now landed. A particularly big chunk would crush the fencer, but Sabine noticed in time. 

“Power Up! Strength!” She jumped to where the girl stood and stopped her from turing into a wet puddle. At the same time, more chunks fell, cutting them off for the most part. 

“Thank you madame.” Kagami bowed while still lying on the ground. “I owe you my life.”

“No worry sweety. Let’s finish it and go skin a cat, okay?” Sabine focused and used her enchanted strength to push the large chunk away and release them. She picked the girl and jumped out. 

In front of her, the scene was mortifying. Hawkmoth held blade at Ladybug’s neck while she was forced to kneel before him. Next to him, Mayura had Luka in similar position. 

“I think that was enough of the show.” The villain commented. You’ve all proven just how strong and heroic you are… But it ends here.” He was about to grab the earrings of Ladybug, but she started to toss around. 

“Hold still girl if you want to see your friend and yourself walk out of here alive!” Mayura threatened her. To enforce the point made by his partner, Hawkmoth pressed the blade closer, drawing some blood. A single droplet traveled along the edge and hit the floor. The heroine felt her whole body go stiff with fear. She silently accepted her fate when suddenly there was an ear-piercing cry of pain behind her. The blade, together with hand that was holding it, fell to the ground. Hawkmoth stumbled holding the stump that used to be his hand. Behind him Damian wiped the blood from his blade.

“Leave. My Wife. Alone!” He barked and turned to Mayura. “The game is over.” 

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25 @tired-butterfly @toodaloo-kangaroo @redscarlet95 @miukiiu @sassakitty @corabeth11 @vixen-uchiha @lilypos03

[nanawritesstuff]

of war and peace | December 27th, MadaSakuWeekend

it’s here, y’all. MadaSakuWeekend, Day 1. Thank you, Captain @madasakuweek​, for organising and motivating the madasaku stans!!!! 

Prompt: soulmate au

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: Haruno Sakura/ Uchiha Madara

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Word Count: 4051

Summary: For Sakura, soulmates have officially lost their charm and she’s never felt more disillusioned. But when the only chance to look deeper comes to her, she still takes it. | sequel to of love and war 

Warnings/Tags: angst, ooc sasuke cuz I like soft friend Sasuke, ooc madara cuz I need some fluff

a/n: I really wasn’t sure if I should write this, but this is the only way I wanted to write it lol

Sakura has always known what dead soulmarks mean. 

She thought she had accepted it-the bittersweet feeling of being surrounded by people meant for each other, knowing there was no such person for her, not anymore. She's been ready for the weddings, the children, and the anniversaries since she was twelve. She's crafted herself an armour of acceptance and resolution. 

She hadn't been ready for this. 

The first glimpse of the infamous Uchiha had shaken her to the core. Despite the distance between them, she knows that he had sensed her presence. Sasuke's hand had been firm in hers as she trembled, as her mind and body refused to cooperate. And then that wild hair vanished from sight, leaving behind an odd longing in her, which she has been trying to fight down ever since. They've retreated back to camp to for a brief respite, and she takes this time to come to terms with the current situation.

She hadn’t been ready for the part of her she’d thought long buried to awaken and unfurl in the deepest parts of her, for it to sense its other half and prod at her very being as if to say: hey, look, there they are!

Despite knowing there was no happy ending written for her, she had indulged in the occasional daydream of somehow meeting her soulmate. They usually involved tears and soft kisses, apologies and tight hugs. When she heard people were being resurrected, her mind had spun out of control for a moment. The hope had been nearly overwhelming, and the subsequent disappointment had crushed it. 

What she feels now is pure despair. There are no teary first meetings in the works for her, because the man fate has deemed fit for her is the worst enemy they have ever faced. And judging by the reports coming in from the fourth division, he is also an overpowered killer. The desperation and desolation merge as they rush through her, forming a leash around her heart. What does it say about her, if that is who is marked for her? Not every marked pair ends up together, but that’s still rare.

How is it that someone she has never even met has managed to break her heart? Or is it the absolute disillusionment that has her struggling to breathe?

Sasuke's arms are steady and warm around her as they stand in the empty tent. His brother stands guard outside, talking to his partner in low tones. The two make an odd pair, but there is a certain confidence in the way they move around each other that speaks of faith, and trust. Her eyes squeeze shut as the tears spill over and her fingers dig into Sasuke's skin as she buries her head in his shoulder. 

"I've got you. Okay? We don't have much time, but...I'm here with you. You're not alone," he murmurs, hugging her closer when she starts shaking. "I'm here." Sakura sobs harder at the warm words, cursing herself for crying over this, over him. She should be out there, shrugging it off, keeping her head held high. Instead, she's hiding away, crying like a child. 

"W-why him?" she blubbers, taking in shaky breaths as Sasuke wipes her cheeks dry. “What the hell did I ever do to deserve that?

"Well, it's definitely unfortunate. But...you could've done worse. You could've gotten Danzo." 

The complete disgust on her face makes him grin. 

"He's not much better." 

"Hey, come on now. I know he's our enemy, but your soulmate is one of the most feared shinobi in all the nations," Sasuke tells her, handing her a cup of water. "Right up there with the Shodaime." 

"Sasuke."

"I'm just saying...it could've been Danzo."

She can't help but laugh at that, pulling him into another hug. "Yes. And now I have to watch my soulmate die without ever getting a chance to speak to him." 

He shrugs, watching her as she nearly dunks her head in a bucket of water. "I mean, you'll get a chance to meet him. Even a monster wouldn't kill his own soulmate." 

Sakura isn't so sure of that, but she knows it doesn't matter either way. She won't get a chance to find out.

She gets her chance. 

Naruto turns to her when Madara leaves, declaring his intent to wait for the Shodaime. She knows she doesn't imagine the way his eyes flick in her direction before he turns away. She tells herself it was Naruto he was assessing, but her heart doesn't stop pounding. He's terrifying. He kills as naturally as he breathes, as if he was born to fight, to defeat. And yet, she had heard him call out to Hashirama. She had seen him nearly crash into the ground in his haste to get to the man, his eyes lit up with excitement at the mere prospect of getting to fight his old friend. 

She had nearly smiled at the way his face fell when Hashirama rebuffed him. 

It doesn't matter–she can berate herself all she wants, but she couldn't stop her eyes from finding him, from greedily taking in every move he makes. It's dangerous to be this distracted, and it takes her every ounce of the self-control she possesses to stay focused on healing Naruto, who is still trying to check on her.

The sound of heavy footsteps grows closer, and she looks up to see Hashirama smiling at her. There is chatter all around her as they all watch the four Hokage in action, getting ready to jump into the fray themselves, and one of the Shodaime's clones has come to her instead.

"I'm going to him. I know it's important to conserve chakra but...I'd say this is important too, in a way," he says softly, the way he looks pointedly at her neck leaving little doubt as to what he means. Of all the people in the world, he's probably the one person who is as familiar with the symbol as she is. She turns to look at Naruto and Sasuke, who look back at her with no trace of judgment in their eyes. She squares her shoulders and walks to them, her hands coming up to form a symbol she's rarely ever had to use, unlike her blond teammate. 

As Team 7 steps up to join the battle, her clone leaves with Hashirama's.

She's afraid–of being rejected, even though she tells herself she's not looking for acceptance. Of him being worse than she believes him to be, even though it can't, in all honestly, get much worse than mass-murdering psychopath aiming for world domination. She feels no small amount of guilt for going to meet the man who has taken so much from this world, from her friends. 

They slow to a stop just before they reach the spot, and Sakura looks at him questioningly when he just smiles sheepishly. His eyes indicate his unnatural state, but they’re still gentle in the way they settle on her.

"It's Sakura, right?" 

"Um, yes."

"Hm. You know, ever since I first saw it, I've been curious–just what kind of a person would give that brute such a pretty mark?" he muses, and she flushes under the weight of his gaze. "But it's subtle in its beauty. The one he's given you...well, it certainly doesn't leave any doubt, does it?" 

Sakura looks up at the rock where her supposed fated one waits. "Not anymore. This mark, it's given me a lot of grief. But it's never felt like a burden...until now." She turns back to him, her smile wobbly. "No matter who it belonged to, it was my soulmark. There was someone for me, even if they were out of reach."

"To find out that you're Madara's soulmate...he's definitely a handful," Hashirama guffaws as he pats her shoulder sympathetically. A part of her can't believe she's just standing around, chatting with the Shodaime Hokage as the war rages on around them, even if they're clones. But, despite her initial fears, he isn't disgusted. There's no sign of pity in his eyes. He seems to sense her uncertainty as she tries to find the right words. 

'Handful' seems to be the understatement of the world. The man is trying to cast a genjutsu over the entire world. 

"He's...not someone I expected. Ever." 

Hashirama nods, seeming to understand what she doesn't say. "I'll get to the point, then. It may be hard to believe, and I'm certain everyone else would disagree if they heard this...but then no one ever really knew Madara like I did, like I do." A finger under her chin tilts her head up when she can't meet his eyes. "He's an idiot. A severely misguided one. He has a terrible temper and his way of resolving things is to beat them." 

'Is he trying to tell me that I dodged a bullet?' Sakura thinks, wondering if the Shodaime thinks she's an idiot. 

"But Sakura...despite his utter idiocy and thick-head...he has good in his heart. I know this, and I believe this even now. He is not an evil man." She blinks at the unexpected words.

"Then why is he doing this? Trying to create some perfect world? What happened?" she asks quietly. Hashirama sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to put it in words. The sky has settled into a shadowy disposition, a precursor of the darker things to come and–she can’t tell if it’s afternoon or evening.

"The Uchiha, they...they love deeply, to a fault. To the point where it can destroy them. This trait was always especially apparent in Madara. He loved his family so much, that losing them broke him apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but anguish,” Hashirama’s eyes lose focus as his mind travels to a time when Konoha was just a dream. “Losing his brother was the final straw, although I didn't know it at the time. Izuna took a big piece of Madara with him, when he was killed by my own brother."

"But...you still founded the village after that?" 

"I was able to convince him. And I've always believed that even then, Madara had hope." 

"For Konoha?"

"Yes. And for finding you," Hashirama says, his soft smile edging with sorrow. His words take root in her heart, robbing her of breath and words. "He never admitted it, but I knew he wanted to meet you. Sakura-san, when we were kids, he used to go on and on about you. He was so sure you would be a kunoichi–beautiful, powerful yet kind were his exact words if I remember correctly.” His laugh is soft as he shares this piece of his past, of cherished memories. “A woman who could send shinobi flying with one punch. I'm sure he's very pleased to know he was right." 

She knows he's teasing, but she can't help the warmth that extends to her ears. “Oh...”

“Uchiha Madara’s soulmate, apprenticed to a Senju, my own granddaughter. I suppose the fates do have a peculiar sense of humour,” he mutters, appearing a bit smug.

Sakura, however, is stuck on his previous words.

"He really said all that?" The almighty Uchiha, fantasizing about his soulmate?

"He did. In his defence, we were children. His vocabulary was rather limited at the time. But, as I was saying...well, he never did find you. The situation became more hopeless, and...then it ended. Or so I believed." 

“And he betrayed you.”

“And he believed he was meant to walk a different path, yes.”

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks as they begin to walk towards their goal.  

"Because I know he won't. And as his best friend, I believe it to be my duty to tell you your soulmate isn't the monster everyone believes him to be." Hashirama's sincerity shines through in every word. "And, because the gods are cruel. If Madara had met you back then...I truly believe things would have been different." 

'But we never had a chance.' Her eyes well up once again, but Hashirama's look suspiciously shiny as well. It's in this moment that it really sinks in–the man people believe was Uchiha Madara's greatest enemy still calls himself his best friend. Perhaps he's too optimistic, to actually believe there's still some good left in the other man, but he would know better than most, wouldn't he? Better than everyone else.

It may be naive of her but Sakura chooses to believe him–because she wants to believe it. She wants to believe there's more to Madara than the homicidal demon he's known to be, even if she might not get the chance to see it for herself.

And now, as he waits for Hashirama, she finds him.

She doesn't see her mark on what little skin she can see, but that only makes sense. Most Shinobi don’t leave their mark visible for everyone to see, and this one has more reason than most to hide his. Her own mark seems to pulse in sync with the quickening beat of her heart. Her breath catches in her throat as he moves, as he slowly turns to face them, her muscles locking up when he tilts his head, the spiral pattern of his eyes dizzying in his otherworldly beauty.

She doesn't move as he refuses to fight Hashirama's clone, and then proceeds to destroy it. She waits for him to do the same to her, but he only goes back to his seat with casual indifference. Ino and Shikamaru's faces spring up in her head–the apprehension is cast aside in favour of anger.

And then, she pounces. 

He blocks every attack, never countering, only parrying and twisting gracefully. His expression doesn't shift in the slightest, but she can see the amused glint in his eyes and it sends anger burning like fire through her veins. As he turns slightly to step back, her fingers slide into his coarse hair, clenching tightly and yanking him to her. The surprised look on his face is almost comical, and she only gets a glimpse before she drives her fist into his cheek. The way he crashes through the rocks has vindictive satisfaction thrumming in her, even though she knows it was a lucky shot.

"That was dirty," he grumbles. His voice is deeper than she expected, and there is none of the rage she was expecting. Instead, as he sets his gunbai down,  he looks like he’s trying to fight a smirk. 

"That was for my friends," she replies firmly. 'Nothing in the world will ever make up for what you've done.'

"Friends, hmm?" He tilts his head curiously, brushing dirt off his armour. "The nine-tails is one of them, is he not?" 

The look she gives him is dangerous, and her only response. The little smirk that curls along his mouth is knowing. He has the striking features common in the Uchiha, but where Sasuke and Itachi are lean, lithe and delicate–Madara is broader, sturdy, and rugged, but still limber which is apparent in the way he moves.

"So you haven't come to join me, little soulmate?"

"And betray my people? Of course not," she says dismissively. 

“Your people? Shouldn’t your soulmate be included in that list?”

“Not if he’s trying to ruin the lives of every other person on it,” she snaps, her irritation rising when he only looks amused. Where is the temper the Shodaime mentioned? 

"Then why have you come?" 

His question gives her pause, makes her nervous. "Because of the Shodaime..."

"Did the meddling fool force you?" 

"No! I just...I was curious,” she admits, shrugging lightly despite the nervous feeling fluttering in her stomach. 

"Hm."

She watches him for another moment. He sits with his legs crossed, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He looks as if he doesn't have a care in the world, but his eyes are intense in their focus, in the way they linger on her mark. His mark. She wonders what he thinks of her, with her soft hair and bright eyes. With the thick lines sweeping down her face to her body. 

In all her daydreams, she had never thought she’d look this roughed up when meeting her soulmate. There are no sundresses and bright nail polish; her skin is cleaner than her real body’s by virtue of being a clone and her flak jacket is snug around her torso. The image of a faceless man with a gentle smile has been torn to shreds, replaced by this man who she thinks is–in the deepest parts of her mind–of a wilder sort of beauty than she could’ve ever imagined. 

She thinks he’s beautiful, and she hates herself for it. 

"I came because even though you're clearly insane, this is the only chance I had to meet you," she says honestly. "So I took it."

"Insane?" he repeats, his eye twitching. "Bold, aren't you?" 

"I'd have to be, with this blasted mark on my neck!" 

"Listen here, girl, that's the Sharingan you're insulting! My Sharingan," he says, and she tries to ignore the possessiveness colouring his tone. 

"Well, your Sharingan has been an endless source of annoyance my entire life!"  

"And your mark..." he begins heatedly, only to trail off. Suddenly, she feels awkward. What is she doing, arguing with this man? 

"And my mark?" She watches him cautiously, watching for a hint, a sign that would indicate the location of her mark. She’s been curious about it all her life and Hashirama hadn’t given her any clues beyond ‘pretty.’

He doesn't respond, his head turning towards the direction of the battle. Her heart restarts it's panicked thumping as he moves to stand, his gaze focused on some distant point. He glances at her once before turning away to leave. 

"W-wait!" 

Madara stills, looking over his shoulder at her, and she ignores the voice in her head that calls her a sentimental fool. 

"M-my name...it’s Sakura," she stammers, her mouth dry, feeling like a complete idiot. At the same time, something in her is finally quenched. She doesn’t regret it. And then–the all too familiar scent of forests and smoke fills her senses, and her heart attempts to leap out of her mouth when those hypnotic eyes meet her own and he's too close too close. He leans over her, his expression unreadable, and she feels something warm on her neck before she discovers that it's his fingers. His skin is warm, and she's startled further when she realizes his glove is off. 

Madara strokes the bright mark on her skin, his touch gentler than she would’ve expected from a man like him, his gaze unwavering. "Sakura, huh?" She doesn't understand why her knees shake at the way he says her name, as if he's savouring sweet wine. They shake harder when his mouth curves up, even though it's tiny. It softens his harsh features and stills the pounding of her heart. "Of course it is. I'm...Madara." 

He’s close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off of his body; she could reach out and touch him, and she might be losing her mind because she thinks he would let her. She wants to explore, dig deep and see what parts of him he’s hiding, and how they would fit with hers.

“...It’s nice to finally meet you, I guess,” she whispers. She’s embarrassed to find that her eyes have grown wet again but before she can swipe at them his hand is there, brushing a tear off her lashline. 

“I should be the one saying that.” But he doesn’t sound annoyed. The air is warm and still between them as they both search the other's face. They both know where the other stands. There’s nothing more to say. She feels something tug at her as he steps back, slipping his glove back on. There's something on his wrist, but it's covered by the cloth before she can get a clearer look.

"Well, Sakura. I'll see you on the battlefield." 

She still doesn't quite know how, but things got worse.  

The battlefield is quiet around them, as everyone slumbers in their cocoons. In this moment though, her mind strays from her worry for her people. Her eyes, instead, remain glued to the form on the ground, the form Hashirama is now walking towards. Her mind flashes through the events that lead to this. Gai-sensei. Obito. Naruto and Sasuke, who have now disappeared along with Kakashi-sensei and the creature, the woman who had put an end to Uchiha Madara. The thought doesn't bring the triumph it should. Instead, they now have something much worse on their hands.

She feels numb, because of the unknown evil they now have to face. Because she had to watch her soulmate nearly explode and be turned inside out in a most horrific manner, and she knows it's going to give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

And, because...this is it. This is it for him, for the little bit of them.

Naruto realized it before she did, and pushed her to safety before they vanished. He made the decision for her because he knew she would have followed them. And he wanted her to have this. 

As she walks towards him, his form grows blurrier. The confusion lasts for but a moment before she realizes her body has reacted before her mind could, in the form of the tears that flow freely down her cheeks. He’s empty, drained of life and chakra, the bleached look gone and his hair back to its inky ferocity.

His words, spoken in low tones, reach her ears. "War buddies...huh? Well, I guess that's fine...by me..." he trails off as Hashirama turns to look up at her. "Ah, that's...right. One of my dreams...did come true." 

She sinks to her knees beside him, reaching for his hand. It's still warm, and she squeezes it tightly. He looks frail, all the rage in him finally hushed. He doesn't look at her, but she realizes quickly that he can't.

"I always told you, didn't I?" Hashirama teases, although his smile is more wistful than amused. "In this, at least–you were right."

"I...know..." His fingers twitch around hers as his mouth perks up slightly. "Sakura."

"Hmm?" She's unsure if she can manage to speak through quiver in her throat, through the emotions bubbling up and choking her. "I-I'm here." 

"My...wrist..."

She catches on quickly, reaching for the hand still shielded by a glove with trembling fingers. As she slips it off, her eyes stay trained on his wrist. On her mark. And her heart aches at the sight of it, at the unfairness of it all.

"Oh."

"Beautiful...isn't it?" he asks, almost serenely. She laughs quietly, running her fingers over the cherry blossoms inked on to his skin by fate itself. "Forgive me. I'll...be going...ahead first." 

"Again," she murmurs, sighing at the position they've found themselves in after all this time.

He seems to find it amusing, his mouth curling up further still despite his unfocused gaze. "Ah. I guess...this just wasn't...our time...huh?"

"Not this life," she agrees, leaning in to press her mouth to his forehead. He’s nearly gone, so she knows he probably doesn’t feel the tears that drip down her chin and onto his ashen skin. "Maybe in another, if we're lucky." 

"I'll...look...for you, then..." he agrees, his smile fading slightly as his hand goes in limp in her grip. She takes a moment to close her eyes, to let herself feel. The loss. The bitterness. The unravelling of that tense, bitter knot in her chest that had wound itself tight throughout the years. In the end, she got to be by his side, in a small way.

Hashirama's hand is steady on her back as she takes in deep breaths. There will be time to grieve–later. For now, she has teammates to find and people to save. Despite everything the world has thrown at them, they've survived. And she's going to keep it that way.

[bumblebeug]

A Presentation to the Matchmaker Pt. 4: Something Else

Hey Everyone! Penultimate Chapter!

Part 4: Something Else

Alya shaded her eyes against the unrelenting sun as she watched Felix fussily wipe down Kitty Section’s keyboard. Beside her, Marinette was scratching away in her sketchpad, lost in her own world of patterns and textiles.

“New costume design or something else?” Alya asked to pass the time. With the way Felix was scrubbing at the piano keys, the practice wouldn’t be starting for a little while longer.

“Mmm?” Marinette glanced up from her work. “Oh. New designs, sorta,” Marinette answered.

“Sorta?” Alya repeated questioningly, “Like a different colour scheme?”

Marinette shook her head, “Not exactly. Just trying to make them lighter so they don’t sweat to death in the summer.”

“Makes sense,” Alya agreed. She held up her phone, shielded the lens, and snapped a couple of photos.

“But a new colour scheme could be fun…” Marinette trailed off to herself, eyeing her sketch and writing down a small note, “I’ll have to ask the band about it.”

A tap on Alya’s phone drew her attention back to Marinette.

“New blog?”

Alya smiled, “Nah something else.” She waved her phone at the makeshift stage, “If these guys make it big, big, then years down the road the media’ll want ‘early days’ pictures. Imagine their surprise when they learn that their star reporter knew the band from way back when.”

Alya pulled Marinette to her side to take a selfie with the band in the background. Marinette laughed and posed with Alya before pulling away.

“Imagine their surprise,” Marinette began playfully. She pulled out her phone with an air of superiority, “When they learn that only I have pictures of the band’s actual practice. I even have videos.” Marinette finished smugly.

“Oooh, look at big-shot designer over here,” Alya retorted bringing both hands palms up in mock awe, “Getting pictures of ‘actual practice’ and shooting ‘real videos’.” She said with exaggerated finger quotes.

Both girls giggled.

Marinette fanned herself lazily with her hand. “Anyways, it was really nice of you to convince Felix to join the band.”

Alya glanced back over to where Felix was now cleaning the keyboard stand. A small pile of paper towels were gathering beside him. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “Joining the band might be too strong a phrase.”

“Well, I hope he sticks with it – he could be just what the band needs. And, it would be fun to have more chances to hang out with him,” Marinette said with a small smile, “Plus, it would be a shame for all that cleaning to go to waste.”

Alya smothered a laugh, “True, true.”

Both girls lapsed into a comfortable silence as they watched Felix nod to himself, apparently satisfied, and begin warm up scales. Luka, noticing that Felix was finally finished cleaning, placed a couple of music sheets near Felix. Alya was too far to make out what exactly Luka said to Felix but Felix offered a tight smile to the older boy. A thought wormed its way into Alya’s head.

“Hey girl?”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm,” Alya wasn’t actually sure how to broach this subject, “Are you… does Luka…?”

She trailed off, frustrated that she couldn’t come up with a decent way to phrase her question. The last thing Felix needs, she thought, was too much competition.

The only reason Alya was sure that Marinette could be swayed from her crush on Adrien was because of Luka in the first place. But Alya wasn’t sure how easily Marinette could be swayed from Luka. Marinette had a tendency to hold onto her crushes tightly and if Luka was Marinette’s new crush then getting Felix to join the band had been a very, very bad idea. Guilt began to creep up Alya’s spine.

Luckily, Marinette seemed to know what Alya was dancing around before Alya could start mentally berating herself.

“No, we’re not,” Marinette replied simply.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” She lightly swatted Alya’s shoulder, “Nothing dramatic happened without you noticing. Luka got to know someone from one of his class better and something clicked between them.”

Marinette shrugged as if this all was no big deal, “I’m glad he’s happy. It wouldn’t have been fair of me to expect him to wait in the wings forever.”

Alya let out a small breath.

Crisis averted, she thought.

But her relief was short lived when she worked through the implication of what Marinette said. She must still like Adrien, Alya thought, looking over her shoulder to where Felix was reading through the sheet music. Her stomach sank slightly. They still hadn’t come up with a good plan that would bring Felix and Marinette together.

The band began their practice in earnest at the sound of Ivan’s drumsticks measuring out the opening beat. Felix, for the most part, seemed to be keeping up with the music’s lively pace. He wasn’t perfect but if he stuck around for more than a practice, which Alya suspected he would – it was impossible to miss that sly look of joy when he managed to save a mistake with an improvised piano riff, then the band had gained a great addition.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Alya watched Marinette watch the practice.

Just because she isn’t broken up over Luka, doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s back to crushing on Adrien. Felix might still have a chance. It was an optimistic thought, but it was all Alya could think at the moment.

Marinette nudged Alya out of her thoughts, “Hey Alya?”

“Yeah girl?” Alya was tempted right then and there to spill the beans. To just let Marinette know about Felix’s crush; ask her if he had a shot. But she held her tongue. It wasn’t her place to say – she wouldn’t betray Felix like that.

“Do you think you could find a private place at school for me this Friday?” Marinette asked too casually for it to actually be a casual question. Alya’s heartbeat pounded along with the song.

“Sure. Uh, classroom? Courtyard?” Alya replied just as casually, trying to quell her panic. If Marinette were asking for a private place then that mea–  

“Oh, either.” Marinette replied, blushing slightly before leaning in as if she was sharing a great secret, “I’m planning on confessing.”

“Oh, of course,” Alya said softly to herself before forcing a cheesy smile onto her face, “You can count on me!”

Marinette smiled at Alya before looking at the band for a long moment. Then she flipped her sketchbook to a new page muttering to herself that she’d just come up with the perfect plan.

Alya craned her neck to see Marinette’s plan but Marinette pulled the pad to her chest, claiming that she didn’t want to jinx anything.

~

After practice, after Marinette wandered over to chat with the other band members, Felix walked up to Alya with a rare smile, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “You should have seen the state of that keyboard – it was like they used it to mop a jam spill and –”

“Marinette is going to confess to Adrien on Friday.” Alya interrupted urgently, “We only have a week for you to confess to her first.”

-----------

Part 3

Part 5 (final chapter)

Taglist!

@call-me-nerdy​, @vivilakitty​, @a-6-yearold-inside, @the-real-gingakid, @redscarlet95, @ashes-wind, @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry, @kali-girlonfire,  @aegyobutpsycho2,  @gal-egg-xy,  @kris-pines04,  @bleeding-heart-romantic, @juhavs, @symwinter, @eva-emaria, @umiko9692, @7-sage-7, @northernbluetongue, @nightstarblue, @marinettepotterandplagg, @hauntedfreakdeputyhero, @greenishivy, 

[ofendlesswonder]

Cat’s glued to her phone as she makes her regular morning stop off at the coffee shop that sits one block from the Daily Planet, frantically jotting down some thoughts about her latest article before they flee her mind.

It’s early, so there’s no queue, and she doesn’t look up as she stands behind the counter, the correct change already in hand.

“Latte, please,” she says, before the barista has the chance to ask for her order, and maybe it’s impolite but Cat, as always, is in a hurry, “make it hot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The term makes Cat narrow her eyes, but she’s in the middle of an important sentence so she doesn’t berate them, just hands over her money and moves down to the other end of the counter to wait for her drink to be handed over.

“I’ve got a piping hot latte for the woman who never looks up from her phone?”

That makes Cat glance up, ready to snap something uncomplimentary, but the words die in her throat when she locks eyes with the grinning blonde behind the counter. She’s gorgeous, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth, and it isn’t often that Cat is rendered speechless but pretty women have always been her weakness.

“Ah, so you can separate yourself from your screen.” She hands over Cat’s drink, and Cat would swear that she felt sparks when their fingers brushed if the idea wasn’t ridiculous.

“I have important work to do.”

“Every single morning?” The woman asks, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.” She’s relaxed, her hands resting on the counter, and it’s really not fair, how cute she looks in that hideous uniform.

“You don’t know what I do,” Cat replies, her voice haughty, but it’s hard to inflect her usual iciness when she’s faced with such a disarming smile. “And do you know I’m like this every morning?”

“Because I’ve worked this shift for the past five weeks,” comes the reply, the woman smirking now, “and I’ve served you that latte every single day.”

“That’s not true,” Cat blinks, because there’s no way she’s been in the vicinity of this goddess and not noticed her.

“Uh-huh. You come in, I take your order, I hand you your drink, you leave without looking at me. It’s very bad for my self-esteem.” She’s pouting, just a little, and god damn it, that shouldn’t be so adorable.

“I wish I had noticed you sooner,” Cat murmurs, letting her eyes run down the slope of the baristas neck and over defined collarbones – it’s not subtle, but Cat has never been. “Believe me.”

“Oh yeah?” She’s smirking, now, and Cat wants to wipe it off her face, to gain the upper hand.

“Do you flirt with all of your customers?”

“Just the cute blonde ones.”

Cat opens her mouth, ready with a retort, but the bell above the door dings as another customer walks in. The pout returns to the baristas face, and Cat knows that their conversation is going to be cut short – and besides, she should really be sat at her desk already if she wants to continue to one-up Lois Lane.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, lady who never looks up from her phone,” the barista says, smiling as she starts to turn away.

“You can call me Cat – it’s much easier to say.”

“Alright, Cat.” Cat likes the way she says her name, like it’s a precious gift that’s been bestowed. “See you around.”

Cat is halfway to the door before she realises that she never found out the baristas name.

She half-turns, smirks when she sees the barista watching her leave, and just about manages to read the name on the tag on her apron.

Kara.

It suits her.

//

There’s a spring in Kara’s step when she opens up the coffee shop the next morning.

She’d been admiring Cat from afar since the first day she’d walked in (how could she not? The woman was beautiful, walked with a confidence that Kara would never possess, and the tiny frown she got between her eyebrows when she was really concentrating on what she was typing was beyond adorable), waiting for the opportunity to talk to her, but it never came.

Yesterday she’d been possessed with the need to try and get the other woman’s attention, and it had paid off even better than Kara could have dreamed, and she’s already looking forward to their next interaction.

Except it never comes.

Cat always walks in at precisely 7:25 (never a minute early, never a minute later, and Kara has often wonder how she does it), but the clock hits eight and there’s still no sign of Cat, and Kara’s mood turns a little sour.

“What’s up with you?” Her co-worker, Winn, asks when he arrives for the start of his shift. “You’re usually so… peppy.”

“Nothing,” Kara lies, because it would be ridiculous to admit aloud – her crush has been growing for weeks, but she’s only spoken to the woman once, after all – tries to distract herself by chatting away to the rest of the customers she has, but none of them give her the same exhilaration as talking to Cat had.

She’s in the back room on her break when Winn sticks his head through the door. “Hey, sorry to disturb you, but there’s a woman out here asking for you – apparently I don’t look like I can make a latte that’s up to her standards.”

“I’ll be out in a sec,” Kara says, chuckling, because she’s pretty sure she knows who’s going to be standing on the other side of the counter.

Sure enough, she comes face to face with Cat (who, for the first time in five weeks, hasn’t got a phone in her hand), her hands on her hips and her lips twitching into a smile when her eyes meet Kara’s.

“I thought when you didn’t show up this morning that I might’ve scared you off yesterday,” Kara murmurs when she hands over Cat’s drink, keeping her voice low to avoid Winn – who out of the corner of her eye, she can see shooting them curious glances – overhearing.

“Not at all.” Cat’s eyes are apologetic as she leans a hip against the counter, and Kara is glad that it’s quiet, that she can focus her attention on Cat, and she’s wearing a blouse with an extra button un-done and the expanse of creamy skin it reveals is distracting. “My boss sent me across town this morning for an interview.”

“Ah, yes, that important work you keep mentioning.”

“I’m a reporter.”

“You work for the Daily Planet?” Kara walks past the building every morning on her way to the coffee shop. “My cousin’s an intern there. Clark?”

“He’s very nice, but his taste in women is appalling.” Cat’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “Luckily, that doesn’t seem to run in the family.” There’s that confidence again, a lazy smile on Cat’s mouth, and Kara wonders what it would feel like to lean over the counter and kiss it away.

“I have exceptional taste in women,” Kara replies, and behind her, she hears Winn drop something, turns to find him hastily looking away.

Kara isn’t usually this bold, doesn’t know where it’s come from, but Cat makes her want to be, brings it out of her, and she’s glad that she’s able to pull it off without making a complete fool out of herself.

Or so she hopes, anyway.

The shop is getting a little busier, and it’s with some sense of regret that Kara realises she should probably give Winn a hand instead of flirting with Cat.

“I should probably,” she gestures behind her with her thumb, “get back to it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Barring any emergencies, yes.”

“Bye, Cat.” Kara gives her a little wave, watches her go with a dopey smile on her face that quickly slides off when she turns and finds Winn waggling his eyebrows at her. “What?”

“What was that?”

“What do you mean?” Kara grabs a receipt and starts to make a cappuccino as Winn takes the next customer’s order.

“You know what I mean.”

“We were just talking.”

“Yeah,” Winn scoffs, “and having sex with her with your eyes.”

“I was not!”

“Oh, you were. And hey, I don’t blame you,” Winn says with a shrug. “She’s hot. If a little mean. She didn’t like my cardigan.” He tugs at the sleeve of it, and Kara doesn’t know how he wears it beneath his apron when it gets so warm behind the counter.

“They’re not for everyone,” Kara admits, because some of them are a little loud, but they suits Winn’s personality just fine.

“So, are you gonna ask her out?”

“I don’t know,” Kara shrugs, because harmless flirting is one thing but asking Cat out on her date is something else entirely. “What if she doesn’t say yes?”

“Kara, I saw the way she was looking at you,” Winn says, his gaze unusually serious. “There is no way in hell she’d turn you down.”

//

When Cat steps into the coffee shop the following Wednesday morning, she’s greeted with the melodic sound of Kara’s laughter, feels a twinge of irrational jealousy when she sees the easy smile on the barista’s face as she talks to a woman leaning her arms casually on the counter.

“Hey, Cat.” It’s been over a week since they first started talking, and Cat has enjoyed spending a few minutes talking to Kara each morning, and as she walks through the door, Kara turns to Cat with her usual radiant smile. “The usual?”

“With an extra shot of espresso, please.” The other woman doesn’t move, takes a sip from the cup in her hand and Cat eyes her warily as she stands beside her – she’s pretty, her brunette hair cut short and framing her face, and Cat wonders if she’s been an idiot, for thinking that she was the only customer that Kara flirted with.

Maybe she just wanted to get a bigger tip.

“Oh, crap.” The other woman glances down at her phone. “I’d better get going, or I’m gonna be late – you coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Of course.” Kara hands Cat her latte before letting the other woman pull her into a tight hug, and the kiss that she presses to the brunette’s cheek makes Cat’s stomach twist. “See you then.”

“Love you, have a good day!” Cat blinks after the other woman with something like betrayal sitting in her chest, and tries not to feel outraged when she turns back to Kara and sees an amused smile on her mouth.

“There’s really no reason to be jealous of my sister, you know,” she says, thinly-veiled glee in her voice, and Cat narrows her eyes into a glare.

“I was not jealous.”

“Oh, you totally were.” Kara’s eyes are sparkling. “It was cute.”

“How was I supposed to know she was your sister?”

“You could’ve asked,” Kara points out. “Isn’t that what you do, as a reporter? Ask questions?” She’s teasing, and Cat usually hates that but somehow, from Kara, she likes it. “Not jump to conclusions?”

“There was no jumping.”

“Please. If you had heat vision, I think Alex’s head would have exploded.”

“Would not,” Cat mutters, feeling a little embarrassed, and Kara’s laughter is music to her ears.

“It so would have.” Kara’s glee is infectious, and Cat’s never felt like this before, so drawn to a woman she barely knows, and she can’t believe that it’s only been a few days since they first spoke, because she feels like they’ve known one another for an eternity. “You got a busy day today? From my experience, an extra shot of espresso first thing in the morning usually has a reasoning behind it.”

“I had a late night,” Cat admits. “And a tight deadline.” She knows she works ridiculous hours, but she loves her job and she knows that one day, when she’s at the top of her media empire, it will pay off. “And I should probably be getting to the office to make sure my editor has no issue with it going to print,” she adds, when she glances at her watch – she’s usually at her desk by 7:30, but the temptation to linger and talk to Kara is overwhelming, and she’s been getting in later and later each morning.

Maybe she should start coming in earlier.

“And I should probably start getting ready for the morning rush.” Kara’s eyes are soft as she waves goodbye. “Have a good day, Cat. Enjoy your coffee.”

It seems like an odd comment to make, but Cat thinks nothing of it – until she sets her cup down and sits at her desk, and notices the words scrawled across the cup.

It’s a phone number, along with Kara’s name, and the sweet message ‘call me, if you want?’ with the letters seeming like they were written by a shaking hand.

Her smile is wide and stays on her face for most of the morning, prompting Lois Lane to ask her three times if she’s feeling okay.

//

Kara grins when she receives a message from an unknown number later that day.

I bet this is how you give your number to all of the girls.

She’s just finished her shift and is walking back to her apartment, and not even the light drizzle of rain can wipe the smile off of her face as she reads Cat’s words.

She’d been nervous about giving Cat her number, has tried to ask for it several times over the past week, has tried to ask her out several times, but she’s never quite had the courage, had thought that writing on the cup was probably a little cliché, but also her best bet of actually going through with it.

Only the ones I really like, she replies, and it’s easier to be bold when Cat isn’t standing right in front of her, even if waiting for the response is more than a little nerve-wracking.

I only flirt with baristas I really like, too. Kara reads the message as she’s going up the stairs of her apartment block, nearly trips and drops her phone, feeling like a teenager with their first crush as euphoria spreads through her body.

Want to hang out sometime? Somewhere that’s not at my work?

I’d let you come to mine but I think people would talk, and I have a reputation to uphold.

Oh yeah? And what kind of reputation is that?

Ice queen. Kara would find that hard to believe from her interactions with Cat, had it not been so long since the woman had actually noticed her.

She knows that it would be easy to interpret it as rude, but Kara thinks that Cat was just genuinely that involved in her work – she can see her passion for it, the drive to succeed, and she admires it, thinks it’s the same way she feels about art.

(She just wishes that it paid enough to be a full-time job, so she didn’t also have to be a barista, but then she supposes if that were the case, she never would have met Cat).

And I’d compromise that?

I don’t act like an ice queen when I’m around you. As much as they’ve flirted with one another, they’ve never directly alluded to having feelings, and Kara loves how candid Cat is being, that she’s so direct.

So, we’ve established that neither mine nor your workplace is suitable for a date – how about I take you out to dinner?

Who said it was a date? For a moment, Kara freezes, wonders if she’s misunderstood, or if Cat’s just teasing her.

Do you not want it to be a date? She taps her hands against the side of her phone as she waits anxiously for a reply.

I was kidding! Dinner sounds good. Friday night? It seems agonisingly far away, but Kara could probably do with a couple of days cushion to figure out where the hell she’d actually take Cat.

Sounds perfect.

[strifexcloud]

Prompt: “Fenrir”

        When all the fighting, all the grief and sadness, when everything ended and was washed away, people needed to start getting back on their own two feet again.

Life had to go on. It was as simple as that.

This was their reality now.

The enemy was weakened for trying to use what was rightfully the planet's and so, this was the price humanity had to pay...

There wasn't a pressing world ending threat anymore. 

There was no real need for AVALANCHE any longer, and so the gang had decided to part ways and go back home.

But... Where exactly was home? Something like that doesn’t exist for Cloud anymore.

In the wake of all this, he realized that him being alive after all that has happened should be a miracle in itself. He was left with an awakened sense of self now, and he knew that the only direction he had to go was to keep moving forward.

Being a 'mercenary for hire' was no longer a necessity.

For a while, after they decided that he should stay with Tifa to live at the bar, he had to struggle for some semblance of normalcy. He couldn't be kept idle for so long. Cloud realized he shouldn’t be kept with his own thoughts, so he had to keep his hands busy, lest those dangerous thoughts come crawling back. 

To think he thought he could finally live out his days in peace.

Cloud distracted himself by helping around the bar at first, busing tables and helping around the kitchen. And for awhile it was tolerable and pleasant. But he knew he wasn't really cut out for this kind of job.

--

It was on a sunny Thursday afternoon when Cid dropped by for a visit carrying a shipment of used rocket parts he wanted to sell for scrap from his airship yard. Tifa could see the way Cloud’s eyes lingered at the junk in the back of Cid’s truck with obvious interest. He doesn’t meet her eyes.

During a chat over a strong cup of tea, he had offered to take the parts off Cid’s hands.

"What the hell would you use all that junk for anyway?" Cid asked, stubbing out his cigarette.

Cloud hadn’t answered the question, but he promised to pay Cid for the parts in full for his trouble. Eventually the bad-mouthed captain agreed, who was only too willing to get rid of the junk. 

The next day Cloud left the bar and ventured back into the ruins of the city. 

He never thought he’d be back here again and doing it so willingly. 

He wandered aimlessly into the belly of the beast, getting lost for hours, scavenging anything he could salvage from the wreck. And as he went further in, he starts to recognize some of the rundown structures around him... until he sees a familiar outline of a church. 

This was Sector 5...

--

For the next few days-- which turned into weeks, Cloud does not emerge from their garage out back. “He said he started on a new "project".” Tifa said, with  sigh. While she was relieved that Cloud finally had something to preoccupy himself with, she can’t help but be a little worried. “He doesn’t come out other than to eat and I even have to coax him out of there.”

“How typical.” said Yuffie with a roll of her eyes.

For days, the only thing anyone could hear coming from in there were sounds of metal drills, saws, welding and the pounding hammers on anvil. The blonde would only be seen from time to time only to emerge for meals and sleep. He would hardly talk to anyone, even Tifa.

When Cloud had not appeared for for 3 consecutive days without food however, Tifa took things into her own hands determinedly banged on the door, carrying with her a tray of food. 

Cloud looked pale and wan when he finally opened the door. He does’t let her in though. 

It turns out he didn't mind having a small break from his work and so he ate quietly before Tifa could berate him again for neglecting himself. 

She asks him what exactly was he building in there that's got him so obsessed. It wasn't really a bad thing that Cloud was busy, she thought. At least he had something to do. 

As an answer, Cloud just shrugged, wiped his mouth and smiled softly. His smiles were getting rarer and rarer these days...

--

After weeks of trying to learn how to forge and how to weld all by himself, toiling in the garage day in and day out, it was finally ready... Wiping off the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, Cloud steps back to admire his handy work, feeling accomplished and satisfied. 

Of course, he would have to test drive it first before he could show it to anyone else. 

The garage doors finally opened on a cloudless starry night. The crisp spring air cooled his sweaty skin from being cooped up near the heat of a furnace. 

Slowly he takes off off the cloth that covered his creation and reveals the gleaming black machine, bible black and sleek with monstrous looking exhaust tubes sprouting from the back. 

A perfect marriage of recovered Shinra tech and Cid's craftsmanship. 

It was larger that life. It was bold. It was beautiful. To him, it was perfect.

He still has some plans to install some additional things like several compartments, but those would have to come in later.

Cloud revels at the sound the engines made when he starts it for the first time. The sound it made was a like a loud purr and it made the blood in his veins pump with excitement.

A loud roar of engines echoed down the empty backstreet of the squatters area in Sector 7. 

He was was finally riding it. His own creation. It felt great in his hands. The cool and crisp night air felt good on his skin as he puts the pedal to the metal.  

He rides past a couple more back streets and boulevards until he bursts onto the main square of the developing city then making his way to the off roads and out into the city's edge where the roads and highways were blocked off.

The feeling of the wind combing trough his spikes made him feel breathless. It was mind numbing. Relaxing. It felt like he was literally moving forward, leaving everything, even his past, behind.

For the first time in years, Cloud felt free.

Ahead of him, Cloud sees a clear view of the edge of the unfinished highway and accelerates his speed, testing just how much her engines could take. Blue eyes squint in determination, he leaning his weight forward. It seemed for a moment that he might just drive off the ledge and into the endless night sky-- but at the last second, he pulls back to a stop, letting the concrete dust clear around him.

The blood was pounding in his ears after that.

Cloud stayed up there for a few hours, enjoying solitude. He laid on his back, lying on the leather seat while staring up at the black vastness of the sky above him. 

So many thoughts were running in his head, now that everything around him slowed down to a stop.

In his childhood he had been so fond of looking at the stars at night just to clear his head. He was familiar with their constellations and their folklore from his Mother’s stories. It was from her that he learned that the stars were the only things that were ever constant, unchanging and always watching from above, observing everything that was happening in the planet.

Mindlessly tracing with his finger, he pinpoints a cluster of stars he remembered from his youth. It has been said that the Great Wolf in the sky was always ever watchful, ever observant and cunning yet fierce to protect.

"Ferir..." he whispers the name of the stars.

It was from that moment on that a bond was forged. With a smile on his lips Cloud’s eyes flutter closed, failing to see a shooting star strike across the cloudless night sky as if to seal this pact.

[natasha-cole]

Worlds Collide Chapter 19

Pairing: Billy Moran x Reader

Summary: It’s bad enough that her apology to Billy didn’t go the way she expected it to; but Reader has an even bigger issue to deal with this weekend.

Word Count: 2691

Warnings: angst, bad parenting, emotional abuse

Notes: a short chapter... but it’s a new chapter!! It’s been a while, so there are most likely continuity errors.

Catch Up: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  Chapter 10  Chapter 11  Chapter 12  Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15  Chapter 16  Chapter 17  Chapter 18

You weren’t sure how many times you repeated your ‘I’m sorry’s’ to Billy as he held you; but you were certain that the phrase continued to leave your lips in hopes that it mattered. You cried as you grasped onto him, afraid to let him go at all. You didn’t know what this was right now, but you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could in case he walked away again when he was done hugging you.

The two of you stayed like that for some time; you crying and apologizing while he held you silently. The silence from him scared you a bit. When he finally pulled back from you, you kept your hands gripped tight onto his arms, afraid to let go if even just for a moment.

“Why are you crying?” He asked as he reached a hand up and quickly wiped away some of your tears. “I hate seeing you upset.”

“Because I’m and idiot,” you admitted. “I was a jerk and I miss you so much.”

He darted his eyes from yours nervously, pulling back even more as you spoke. You took that as your sign to let go of him, knowing that it was a long shot that he’d ever give you another chance.

“I miss you too,” he replied, finally looking at you again. “But I don’t really know what you expect from me.”

“I don’t expect anything,” you replied. “I’ve just- been trying to get the nerve to apologize is all.”

“Well, thank you. That took… a really long time.”

“I know,” you mumbled as you stared at the ground. “I’m not very good at this stuff.”

“You’re getting better at it,” he said with a small smile.

You kept your eyes on the ground, unsure of how to act or what to say next. He had put a bit of distance between you, and while you weren't well-versed in social interactions, you assumed that this meant he wanted to keep you at a distance. No matter how much you wanted to have him hold you again, you knew what was happening. He was letting you know that he did still care, but also reminding you that you had messed up.

“Look, I’ve got this thing I’ve got to do,” he continued. “Thanks for the apology. It meant a lot.”

You choked back more tears and nodded your head at him, still not looking up at him as he waited for a moment.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” With that he had turned and walked away.

You don’t know what you had expected really. Maybe you figured a real apology would instantly fix things, maybe he would forgive you on the spot and tell you that he wanted to take you back. Deep down you understood that it was a long-shot. You knew that you were reaching.

When he was finally out of eye-sight, you let out a deep breath and let yourself cry some more. You didn’t know what else to do. Nothing had ever hurt quite like this and no one had ever ment as much to you as Billy did.

You were still trying to process your feelings during this break-up, and seeing him again and speaking to him like this only made your heart hurt a little more.

You didn’t know if you could make it through the rest of the weekend having to see him constantly. You didn’t know how much more disappointment and hurt your heart could take.

You didn’t sleep well that night. Mostly, you tossed and turned, berating yourself over your interaction with Billy. You wondered if there was something that you could have done differently in that moment. Maybe you should have said something else or begged him to take you back. Begging was below you usually, but you had felt desperate enough in that moment to actually consider it. You missed him terribly, and you just wanted him back.

By the next morning, you were barely functioning as you sat in the greenroom. You had your coffee in hand and you yawned dramatically as the others made their way in to join you. You hated that you were always one of the ones who had the earlier panels.

You avoided even looking at Billy when he showed up, knowing that it was just going to continue to hurt every time you had to see him. You thought about the possibility of just not doing cons anymore just to avoid him.

You went through your morning as usual. You sat in on a panel with some of the other ladies, mostly staying quiet unless someone directly addressed you. You really just wanted this weekend to be over with. After doing some photo ops, you headed back toward the greenroom when you ran into Misha in the hallway. You frowned when he stopped you, immediately letting your mind go to that place in which everyone who could see the two of you talking was automatically assuming that the two of you were caught up in some torrid love affair based on the recent social media stuff.

You hesitantly acknowledged him though and he spoke to you as if none of that was even on his mind.

“You never said your mother was coming to visit,” he said.

You felt a knot form in your throat as he said it, shaking your head in confusion at him.

“Wh-what?”

“Your mom, she’s waiting for you in the greenroom. You didn’t mention that she would be here this weekend.”

“Oh,” you replied, still in a state of shock as you tried to let his words sink in. “She didn’t mention in either.”

“Whoops, maybe it was supposed to be a surprise,” he smiled.

“Well, either way, it’s definitely a surprise,” you responded as you pushed past him. You didn’t want to hang around him too much if it meant you could add less fuel to the rumors about you. Also, you really needed to see why your mother was here and hope to avoid any drama that she could possibly stir up.

“What are you doing here?” You asked the minute you walked into the room and saw her. Already, the anxiety that you had started with this weekend was peaking. Just seeing her had you on edge.

“Surprise,” she said with a smile as she approached you.

Before you could act, she threw her arms around you, pulling you in for an awkward hug as some of your co-workers looked on. You tried not to make it look so unpleasant, but you couldn’t remember the last time she had ever shown you affection like this, even if it was forced. You knew she was only doing this to keep up with appearances. No one other than Billy really knew what kind of person she was. You had talked about your relationship with some of the others briefly, but as far as they could tell in this moment, you had an okay relationship with her.

“Why are you here?” You repeated, still confused.

“I came to see you in your element,” she beamed.

“Can we talk?” You asked as you forced back tears.

“Of course.”

You led the way to one of the other rooms that was set aside for the cast. No one really used the space as everyone liked to hang out together, so you were relieved when you found it was empty as you led her inside. You closed the door shut behind you before you faced her.

“Really. What are you doing here?” You demanded.

“Honestly, I just wanted to see what it was that you did with your waste of a life. I always said acting was a stupid choice, and I see that you spend most of that time sitting around.”

“If you wanted to degrade me and my job, you could’ve just called. You didn’t have to actually show up at my place of work.”

“I wouldn’t call this work,” she mumbled as she looked around, face turned up in disgust.

“Please, just go. I can’t focus knowing that you’re here.”

“You’ve always been so horrible to me,” she replied as she returned her focus to you. “I can’t think of anyone else who would talk to their parent this way.”

“You’re right, I’m a horrible human being. Thanks for reminding me again. Now please, just go.”

“Relax,” she chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to drop by to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Right,” you said sarcastically.

“By the way, I met Misha.” She paused, giving you a look. It was the same way she always looked at you when she interfered with your life and insisted that you try to set yourself up with someone on the show who was maybe a little more famous than you. “He’s lovely.”

“He’s married,” you reminded her. “We’re friends.”

“I’m just saying, a little gossip doesn’t always hurt a career.”

“You’re out of your mind.,” you replied.

Just as you were about to try to convince her to leave, your handler found you. She paused at the door, signaling to you that it was time for some other responsibility that you had this weekend. More photo ops? Autographs? You weren’t sure anymore. Right now, you just wanted your mom to leave and you knew you didn’t have time to convince her.

“I’ve got work to do,” you told her. “Can you please just go.”

“I’ll wait for you,” she smiled. “I like your friends. Maybe I’ll stick around and chat with them some more.”

You swallowed hard, wanting so badly to just yell at her and demand that she leave. The last thing you wanted was for her to interact with anyone else here, even if you knew they weren’t actually your friends.

“What about whats-his-face? Is he still around?” You took note of the smirk that formed on her lips as she brought him up.

You knew that she was trying to get to you, and it was working. Billy was a soft spot for you. He was the only person who had ever meant anything to you, and she was well aware of it. She wanted to hit a nerve, and she understood the exact buttons to push. She knew to speak of him as if he were no one, purposely forgetting his name. She knew to bring him up in the first place, especially since she understood that the wounds from the breakup were still fresh.

She enjoyed hurting you, and she would use every little thing that she could think of to do so.The problem was that you couldn’t stop her. Over the years, you had become better at letting her know when she was overstepping; but it didn't stop you from being afraid of her.

“Yes, he’s still around,” you said softly. “But, we aren’t talking. So, I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk to him either.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied. “How could I even acknowledge the man who broke my sweet girls’ heart?”

You clenched your jaw at her words and made your way out of the room, following your handler. The idea of leaving your mother with everyone else was the worst feeling in the world. She was sly and manipulative. It had taken you years to realize it. You could only hope that even she had her limits about the people she chose to manipulate. You may not be on the best of terms with everyone here, but you still didn’t want for any of them to have to experience the kind of person she was.

You had finished a round of autographs and were making your way quickly back to the greenroom in hopes of intercepting whatever bullshit your mom was feeding to anyone who happened to be in the same space. Just as you were walking, the guys in the band were headed in the opposite direction. You cringed when you saw them headed your way and you quickly ducked your head, not wanting to even look at Billy again.

It was bad enough that you were heartbroken every time you saw him, but you also had your mom to deal with today. You could really only handle one thing at a time.

Your attempt at going unnoticed didn’t go as planned; because once he was right near you, Billy reached out, taking a hold of your arm to stop you. You let him get your attention and your chest ached as you looked up into his eyes.

“I’m sort of in a hurry,” you explained. You tried to move out of his grip, feeling even worse since he was touching you.

“I imagine so,” he replied. “Talk to me.”

“Looks like you’re busy,” you nodded in the direction of the rest of the guys who hadn’t stopped.

“We’re just heading to autographs, I’ve got a second.”

“Well, I don’t,” you breathed out. “Please, just let me go.”

He let go of your arm instantly and you hesitated, wondering if you should get to your mother instantly or if it would be best to give Billy a moment. Your need to have interaction with him was being overshadowed by the need to stop your mother. There was no telling what sort of bullshit she was pulling on the others.

“Why is she here?” He asked, referring to your mother.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “She just showed up out of the blue. I have to go deal with her.”

“Don’t,” he began. He looked at you sort of sadly and you waited. “I really don’t like the way she treats you. You should let someone else tell her to leave.”

“She’s my mom,” you reminded him. “I can handle her. In fact, I was on my way to do that until you stopped me.”

“Obviously I was really concerned when I realized it was her. I had to check in on you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you said sharply. “Look, I appreciate that you’re pretending to be concerned or whatever; but I’m not your responsibility any more.”

“Y/N, I know this has been hard. But I know better than anyone how she is with you and I’m really worried that she’s here.”

“Okay, great. Thanks for that.” Your words began to run together. You wanted to get out of here quickly, but you couldn’t even get your own feet to move now that he was talking to you. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Let me tell her to go,” he offered. You saw the look of hurt in his eyes. You couldn’t be sure if it was because he had experienced first hand how horrible she was or if he might really be sad about the breakup as well. All you did know is that you were tired of people feeling bad for you and trying to fix your problems.

“No,” you nearly shouted. “That’s the worst idea ever. She hates you, almost as much as she hates me. She thinks that you dumping me was the greatest thing to ever happen. Do not get involved, because you don’t have to be involved anymore. I’m used to her. I’ve been living with this my entire life. I’ve got this.”

“It might mean more to have someone else stand up to her, Y/N,” he began as you turned and started to walk away. “She walks all over you and you let her.”

“Why the hell does it even matter to you?” You responded. You stopped briefly turned to look at him again, giving him an exasperated sigh.

You were frustrated with him now and his fake concern. You understood that things were over between the two of you; you had been the one to ensure that. At the same time, you didn’t understand why he suddenly felt the need to play concerned right now. You obviously didn’t matter to him anymore; why couldn’t he just leave it alone?

You didn’t give him a chance to reply before you turned from him again and continued on your way.

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[regrettablewritings]

How to Be a Good Catholic, Pt. II (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

A/N: Part 2 of my self-drag piece aka The Reason I’m Going to Hell! I’m sure I had more to say here but it is literally about to be 6AM~

@ohbelieveyoume and @xemopeachx (to the latter: Lower your expectations. Like, lower them so deep Satan’s demanding to know why you’re in his house and threatening to call the police on you.)

PART 1 HERE

5.     Remember not to eat meat on Fridays during Lent

It was amazing how cravings worked: You could be perfectly fine, not want to eat anything in particular and just eat whatever simply because you needed nourishment to keep getting through the day. But the moment you’re told you can’t eat a certain something, no matter how often you may or may not eat it, it suddenly becomes all you can think about. That was what made Lent maddening for you as a child. It was as though the season held special powers beyond serving as a countdown for your lord and savior basically becoming a zombie: It could make you crave cafeteria nuggets like a junkie craved a fix. But considering that said zombie-savior got beaten, nailed to a cross, and was forced to wear a crown of thorns for you, abstaining from meat a couple of Fridays for 40 days was the least you could do besides doing nothing at all.  

. . . But Zombie Jesus, it was so hard. In your youth, it was a bit easier because your packed lunches would always be checked over by your mom or dad to assure that it was up to Lenten approval. Sure, there was the occasional slip where you’d stop by the convenience store after school for a quick snack and all too eagerly buy a Slim Jim (was that even meat?). But for the most part, you did your due diligence as a good Catholic girl. Unfortunately, you were now a Catholic woman whose mommy and daddy’s involvement, at most, would maybe occasionally happen to call on Friday just to chat and then happen to mention what that day’s meatless meal had been. This, without fail, would always cause you to grit your teeth on the strip of bacon you’d been eating or lead you to utter an expletive muffled by the pepperoni Hot Pocket you’d microwaved to avoid cooking.

You always knew you could do better. Knew that you should do better. And yet, you never quite got anywhere, consoling yourself with the same thought every time the only options for dinner were between a can of Campbell’s chunky beef stew or air pudding: “It’s okay. You’re fine. God has bigger worries than if you’re eating mud-flavored soup alone in front of a TV playing reruns of Bridezillas a quarter to midnight. Just say two Hail Mary’s before bed.”

You were a little embittered about the fact that it took Sonny’s presence in your life to serve as a catalyst of sorts for improving upon yourself. Such a task should’ve relied on sheer will, not sheer guilt no matter how much of a part in the stereotypical Catholic’s life such a feeling played. But you figured guilt catalyst was better than none. After all, life was already hectic enough as is.

You grumbled this sad fact as you dug into your meal. It was hitting 8 o’clock, and this was the first meal you’d managed to catch all day. Work had been busting your butt with no time for a break. And snacking on vending machine munchables could only do so much. It was probably for this reason that your McNuggets tasted like Heaven instead of a travesty to your health. Like amateur food porn where it’s not what you wanted exactly, but the craving was so bad that you took the first legal, not entirely creepy-looking thing that you could get your hands and mouth on.

You were so deep into your pathetic relishing that you didn’t even notice that Sonny had come through the door, plastic bag in hand. It wasn’t until he’d actually spoken that you were broken out of your McNugget musing.

“Hey, Babe,” he greeted, taking off his shoes by the door. He heard you hum in response; your mouth was too full of fast food to reply with a vocal greeting. You heard him usher his way towards the kitchen, bag rustling by his side. “I got us veggie wraps from that place a few blocks do – ” The sudden stop made you turn to look at your boyfriend, who was now staring at you with brows quirked.

You smacked your lips as you swallowed. “What?” Sonny opened his mouth by a fraction, as if not entirely sure what words to use.

“You, uh . . . You do know that it’s Friday, right?” he finally replied.

“What?” This time, your own brows creased. “No it isn’t; it’s Thursday. I know it is because Mrs. Vatillo’s been blaring Dancing with the Stars all evening.”

“Ever heard of reruns, sweetheart?”

“. . . Ah, dammit!” you cried. You didn’t notice the half-eaten nugget pressed against your head as your hands flew to your face. It took the dipping sauce creating a notably cooler spot on your skin to notice the physical mess you made instead of just the mental one.

Sonny, on the other hand, watched will unadulterated amusement, only cutting in once you began berating your mistake.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it!” he insisted, holding his hand up to gesture a cease. “You made a mistake; happens all the time! Even I mess up my Fridays every once in a while. It’s fine, Babe.”

A muffled groan rippled in your throat. You weren’t sure if it was worth pointing out that he had points to spare while you didn’t.

“Besides,” Sonny continued, placing a kiss to your cheek. “I don’t think McNuggets is even real meat.” He chuckled as he heard your subsequent whimper waver with the sound of you finishing off the nugget.

6.     Save yourself for marriage. The rules might’ve changed a bit, but it’s still preferable that you practice a healthy sense of abstinence

Okay, you at least had this one pretty down pat. And for that, you were quite proud. Maybe it was the romantic in you, but the idea of saving yourself for your spouse had always been extremely appealing to you. And considering the shifting feelings about premarital sex, you felt that made your efforts even more worthy of his or her admiration. Specifically, the “his” that you deep down desperately hoped was Sonny.

To no surprise of yours, he was quite accepting of you preferring to practice abstinence and even admirable of it. He always made sure to keep your boundaries in mind, particularly when you got handsy under the influence. He was quite fine if the extent of your shared physical affections meant making out. Hell, you were pretty certain that if the most you wanted was booping each other on the nose, Sonny would do it. He’s be perplexed, of course, but it wasn’t in him to be so judgmental of it: As an SVU detective and an overall decent man, consent and consideration ranked high on his list of importance in everything he did, relationship or not. That being said . . .

7.     In fact, refrain from pre-marital actions of the flesh, be it heterosexual, homosexual, or solo

Abstinence didn’t mean the switch was turned off. It just meant that you were conserving energy until you found a reason for the room to be lit, so to speak in awful metaphors. And man, were there times when you thought, “That room could be put to good use – as a room to bang my handsome boyfriend in!” Of course, you restrained yourself out of sheer principle and will power. But at this rate, your will power was started to get buff.

And tonight, it was getting quite the workout: Sonny had offered to come over for simple, shared relaxation. Normally, this would’ve been fine. Normally, the two of you would order in and binge watch reality TV shows on Hulu until you passed out with some caresses and a few moments of making out in between. And normally, you weren’t feeling . . . . “special.” On the nights he did come over and you were feeling “special”, you could practice enough self-control to keep things at a maximum of maybe some grinding. (And even that wasn’t without some semblance of shame on your part to be honest, particularly after Sonny would gently suggest that the two of you stop before the grinding became closer to a skinship.) But tonight – and you didn’t know why – the Fornication Forces™ were inexplicably strong with you.

Maybe I should cancel, you processed, laying on the couch. You figured if you just set yourself down, maybe your body would recognize the position and realize how tired it was, rendering you too tired to try anything frisky. Really, though, the only thing you body was convincing itself at the moment was that this would’ve been a good position to do things in. Naughty things.

While one half of your mind was frantically trying to beat the hormonal thoughts back into the abyss, the other half was disagreeing with your previous suggestion. It had been a long week, and you and Sonny had barely seen each other, much less in an intimate manner that even included anything more than a peck on the forehead for parting ways. Besides, it wasn’t fair to Sonny if you dropped out just because you felt particularly needy. You just had to be a grown-ass woman and control yourself as you usually did.

In the midst of your inner pep talk, you figured that maybe a distraction would cool down the embers of eroticism within. Grabbing your laptop, you scoured YouTube for funny videos or informational ones in the hopes that they would serve as efficient enough distractions. It was through the inevitable connecting rabbit holes that is YouTube that you found yourself on the theater side of the site, where you came upon a title that you were certain would kill off the feeling for good.

“Leap of Faith,” you read aloud. Sounded Christian, sounded light-hearted and pure. Perfect! Nothing wiped away arousal like Christian theater, right? You selected a video offering clips of the performance . . . And almost immediately regretted it.

At least, that was what you were trying to tell yourself you ought to be feeling. But it’s hard to think straight while being captivated by the image of a handsome man with a great ass shake his hips in such a controlled yet somehow fluid fashion. It made you wonder what else those hips of his could do. Not helping was the bad boyish facial hair, the dangerous look in his (beautiful) eyes, those gorgeous locks, that fine physique, those arms, that literal Godsend of a voice, and good lord, nobody should be able to make a suit covered in disco glass look so deliciously good!

You tried to scold yourself, constantly pointing out that even if his character’s position as a man of God was false, it was bad enough to imagine the possible reverend kink you could imagine him having. But, to your immense dismay, the idea of sullying such a title made it disturbingly more tempting! The entire time you battled inwardly with your logic and your lust, your hand was taking advantage of your distracted state: little by little, it was moving closer and closer toward your pajama pants. In synchronization, little by little a ticklish warmth pulsed and glowed within your lower tummy and downward. By the time the reverend-devil of a man (devilrend?) was shown in that red jacket and leather pants, the elastic of your bottoms was being ushered to the side.

“The women I’ve seen are like a pinball machine,” he stated. “Push the right button and you score.” To clarify exactly what his simile had meant, his slender fingers curled in the air with a “come hither” motion. Oh, God what sins and blessings those fingers could commit . . . That seemingly simple gesture sent a blazing spark into your lower half, burning away at all sensibility and leaving only desire and a clear path to chase it down to completion –

Click.

Oh, shit.

You whipped your hand out of your pants so fast you nearly knocked yourself in the chest. As your door creaked open, you prayed that Sonny wouldn’t notice anything or pick up on the atmosphere you’d created for yourself, only to wind up wondering if it was appropriate to ask for God’s help when you were milliseconds away from making joyful noise.

Per the usual, as he took of his shoes, your walking sunshine greeting you with a warm, “Hey, Babe.” And per the usual, you responded right back. Only, not per the usual, your greeting was a bit trembly like a child nearly caught in the act of stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Thankfully, Sonny was seemingly too tired to take note of this, making his way towards you.

In your state of being frazzled, you didn’t think quick enough to shut your laptop, allowing Sonny to be able to take a glance at the screen. In doing so, he was able to look upon your shame.

Brows furrowed, he said, “Huh. That’s weird . . . That guy looks an awful lot like Barba.” . . . What? You didn’t say it, but the look on your face certainly did. Able to recognize this, Sonny went on, “Yeah, look: Same facial structure, similar hair, about the same height . . . This guy dresses a little gaudier than him but yeah – dude looks a lot like Barba. I’nt that interesting?” He cracked a smile and went to head to the bathroom to wash up, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What was now seen could not be unseen, no matter how hard you rubbed the heels of your palms against your eyes. Why couldn’t you notice that before so that your girly boner would’ve died on the spot before this all began!? After making sure to close your laptop screen and set it gently on the coffee table away from where it would be most likely to become damaged, you slammed your face into one of the couch cushions and screamed as quietly as possible. Screaming, knowing that you almost got off to the prosecutor’s dramaturgical doppelganger and that you would never be able to look at Barba the same way again because of it. If only you had noticed this before, then maybe the overwhelming senses of embarrassment, horror, and confusion would not have burned even brighter than the feelings you’d had only moments before.

Needless to say, you could barely get through cuddling that night, completely turned off in every which way.

8.     Above all else, aside from accepting Jesus as your Lord and Savior, just be a good person. The world is already so crappy, making it nicer out of the goodness of your heart is something that should be valued

Sonny watched wordlessly as you sat on the ground, arms reached out for his niece to toddle right into. He found himself smiling alongside the laughter the two of you shared as the chubby-legged child flopped herself against your chest. He never understood why you always insisted that you weren’t good with kids; as far as he was concerned, most kids had an almost immediate liking to you or, at the very least, were willing to approach you without must suggestion. He supposed it had something to do with how kind you looked and sounded. After all, that seemed to be one of the reasons his family invited you back over for yet another family dinner.

In the midst of you giving his squealing niece a raspberry on her tummy, Sonny heard Theresa call for you to come “hang around the big girls” for a change. Agreeing to the invitation, you scooped the toddler up into your arms and, mimicking the sound of an aircraft, gently zigzagged her through the air as you walked toward her watching uncle.

“This is your captain speaking, we welcome you to Sonnyville and hope you enjoy your stay,” you told the little girl amongst her coos of delight. Gingerly handing her over to Sonny’s waiting arms, you gently added in, “Might I recommend the cheek kisses, Little Miss? They’re my favorite!” One last teasing poke on her tummy and you went on your way to hang out with Sonny’s sisters, leaving the man himself on the couch with his niece. When Sonny noticed the toddler pouting and reaching out for your departing figure, he found himself chuckling, “Yeah, I like having her around, too,” before treating her to your highly recommended kiss on the cheek.

“I didn’t know you could knit.” The comment caused you to look up at your boyfriend. Despite having turned on the TV as soon as he’d taken his place beside you on the couch, he’d spent the last couple of minutes observing you. As you looked up from your project, your fingers kept moving without error. This suggested to Sonny that not only could you knit, but you were at least practiced in it enough to nearly do so in your sleep.

You blinked. “Well, you never asked. Plus, I haven’t done it in a long while.” You shrugged and looked back down to start a new row.

“Well, what made ya stop?” Sonny inquired. He liked learning things about you. Particularly, he liked learning things about you even if they were simple things. Things that could’ve been revealed earlier in the relationship.

You looked upwards in thought, knitting still. “Dunno. I think I just sorta fell out of it when life started getting too busy? I used to knit during my lectures in college – kept me awake and somehow alert – but then this one professor asked me to stop because it was causing a distraction. Which I think is total bullshit because absolutely no-one cared that I was knitting in a literature lecture.” You paused, recognizing that you were beginning to ramble. “But yeah; I just kinda stopped doing it for a while.”

Sonny nodded with understanding. “And you’re doin’ it now because you missed it?”

“Well, sorta. Liv told me about this one project the art museum is doing to raise awareness of abuse survivors: People are knitting and crocheting squares to be made into a big blanket. The idea is about not being alone and being covered with warmth of strangers who care. Each square and the elite involved in this thing will donate money to the Joyful heart Foundation. I thought it’d be a great idea and a great thing to do, so I found my old needles, stopped by the craft store, and got to work. Plus, knitting’s therapeutic.”

You smiled. “My goal is to have between 5 and 8 squares by the deadline in six weeks!” The amount of determination, in addition to the subtle glow you developed during your explanation of the project you were now a part of, caused Sonny to return the grin. Though his carried tones of being impressed. And of pride.

You never noticed, however, as you turned your attention to the TV. You continued to knit. And Sonny continued to watch you.

It was Friday night and Sonny was bushed. The week, while not necessarily as bad as others, had still beaten his ass with a case that had about as many twists and turns as the map of Candyland. If only the outlook for the pending trial were so sweet. Needless to say, Barba was going to have yet another chunk of his work cut out for him, meaning that tensions were going to be high for the coming week.

During exhausting days like this, there was nothing more that Sonny would have loved than a nice, hearty meal; maybe something from the deli. He found himself groaning alongside his stomach at the thought of such a treat, only to remember that it was a Friday and it was still the Lenten season.

Well, he thought to himself as he trudged his way up the stairs to his apartment. I guess I can just order the usual pizza and call it a night. As he got to his floor, Sonny found his previously drab and tired senses being stroked by a new, invigorating stimuli. Baked goods? Probably one of his neighbors. Must be nice; cakes sounded all too delightful right now. As he neared his own door, however, he began to realize and error in his previous assumption. The smell wasn’t coming from somebody else’s place: it was coming from his. That, and the sound of an oven door creaking open, bowls clattering, and the sound of the sink running.

Sonny wasn’t sure what to expect as he opened the door. Being ready to fight a baking burglar wasn’t how he thought his week would end but if that’s what was going on –

Between the two of you, Sonny was the better cook. You weren’t awful in the kitchen, Sonny was simply just divine by comparison. As such, the image of you dawning an apron splattered with patched of flour, powdered sugar, and your sleeves rolled up was a bit strange for Sonny to see. Adorable, no doubt about that, but different from how he usually saw you. You began to blush when you saw the man walk through the door, only adding to the cuteness.

“Crud,” you murmured. “I was sorta hoping you wouldn’t be back until a bit later . . . B-but don’t worry, I’m going to clean all of this, I promise!” The “all of this” being the mixing bowl, egg shell particles, and small piles of baked good ingredients marking his counter. Normally, Sonny was particular about his kitchen. But instead, he found himself concerned with something else.

“What’re you up to?” Sonny asked.

“Well, it’s, um . . . I know this week has been hard on you so I – ”

As if on cue, the egg-shaped timer you had set earlier dinged. Immediately, the stammering gave way to a person with the mission.

“Oh, good, it’s done! Wait here, I – no wait! Go wash up and change while I put the finishing touches on it!” you insisted. When Sonny didn’t move, confused as to the sudden shift, you groaned. “Come onnn!” you whined, scurrying behind him before nudging him toward his room. You tried to pay no mind to the laughing this coaxed from him, insisting that you needed it to be a surprise since he practically ruined it by coming home early.

“M’kay,” sighed Sonny as he emerged from the back. He felt somewhat better now, having had a shower and changed into his Fordham Law sweats. He couldn’t help but smirk as he came upon you, standing in front of the table in a manner that suggested you were shielding something. A huge smile dazzled your features, your hands curled and pressed together as if clasping the surprise within them.

“Okay, okay, so!” you exclaimed. “I know this week’s been tough on you. And I don’t want my Sonshine to dampen so I thought it’d be nice to cheer you up in any way possible. Sooooo  . . .” You stepped to the side and gestured your hands Vanna White style. Only instead of letters, your presentation was something of far more use to Sonny: a large order of pizza from his favorite establishment. “Your favorite: Goat cheese and sundried tomatoes.” You threw in a cheeky eyebrow-arching to hype up the mood. However, judging by the way your boyfriend’s face lit up, it wasn’t necessary: The man was thrilled.

“Aw, you didn’t have to!”

“Ah, but I did. You know I’d do whatever I could to make you smile.”

Damn straight, Sonny thought. But as strong as his love for the pie was, the sugary smell present in the air overpowered him with curiosity.

“But, uh . . . As much as I love pizza, I’m almost positive that this wasn’t what you were up to when I walked in earlier, right?” he teased. This prompted a smirk from you.

“Right you are, my little-tall detective,” you joked right back. “So close your eyes.” He did as instructed. He heard the sound of your feet padding over to the oven, the screech of the machinery’s door opening and then closing, and then your voice saying that it was alright for him to look.

“Tadaaahhh!” you cheered, holding up your creation. To the average person, it might’ve looked like a regular vanilla sheet cake. Maybe a vanilla sheet cake with a hint of citrus. But Sonny knew that smell well enough to know better. Plus, the fleur de lis embossment in the powdered sugar was a giveaway.

Sonny licked his lips. “You made – ”

“Schiacciata alla Fiorentina!” you stated. You puffed out your chest with pride. “I phoned your mom the other day asking for any recipes you particularly enjoyed and she said this was a good way to cheer you right up. Plus, it’s good for the Easter season, right?”

Sonny wasn’t sure what made him inhale in delight more: the scent of the cake, or the very essence of you. As you stood glowingly, he gently took the pan from your hands and set it on the table. This left you confused before he ushered you into a hug. Embraces were nothing strange at all when in a relationship with Sonny Carisi. However, the type he was currently providing was one that didn’t come up as often: His cheek laying on the crown of your head, arms wrapped so tightly around you it was as if he was worried that you might fly away. You wanted to joke that he wasn’t leaving any room for Jesus between the two of you but decided against it. Instead, you chose to focus on everything else: The smell of his soap; the sound of his heart beating against your ear; how you could just make out the smile he was wearing against your head. But most of all, the intense feeling of complete, unadulterated adoration resonating from his being.

“I don’t deserve you. Y’know that?” he finally spoke. You scoffed against his chest.

“I should be saying that about you, you know,” you threw back.

“No,” Sonny insisted. “I mean it: I do all kinds of crap both in and out of my job. But then I get you and it’s like . . .” He trailed off. You took the opportunity to step in once again.

“Sonny, what you do in comparison to me (or rather, what I fail to do) makes me the lucky one. You’re great, you deserve the best.”

“And I got the best.”

“No, you got me.”

In that moment, the grip of his arms around you slacked before positioning themselves to push you away. Only enough for Sonny to take a good look at you, but still enough to make you recognize how warm you felt against him. The look on his face was stern; something you rarely saw Sonny be when it came to you.

“(Y/N),” he said with a gentle strictness. “I don’t know how long it’s gonna take before you realize that you’re not this godawful person or whatever it is you think you are. I work in SVU for God’s sake – you’re literally up for sainthood by comparison to the pieces of crap I encounter on a regular basis.”

“Well, yeah, but,” you meekly replied, “it’s easy for you to say that when you’re higher up on the scale – ”

“For cryin’ out loud, there is no scale! I don’t know what has ya convinced that there’s some Catholic hierarchy goin’ on but I can promise ya: there is none. And if there is, you’d be right up there on the higher levels.”

Your brows creased at the blond’s claim. “Dude, I suck as a Catholic: I don’t always go to services, I get prayers mixed up, I screw up with Lent, I – ”

“Are still a good person,” Sonny finished.

“. . . What?”

“You’re still a good person,” he repeated. “Look, religion, no matter what people say, isn’t a competition: You know there are plenty of crappy pastors and whatnot out there, so the idea that position determines anything is about as wobbly as a broken chair. But you know what God loves? Triers. Jesus wasn’t goin’ around banning people left and right for messin’ up – Mary Magdalen was a prostitute for cryin’ out loud.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You weren’t sure how you felt about being compared to a prostitute, fellow follower of Jesus or not. Sonny bit his lip, noting that you hadn’t taken to that last sentence as well as he’d hoped. But he tried yet again:

“I know ya may think I’m this ‘incredible Catholic’ or whatever it is ya think I am, but it’s easy to think that because you’re comparing yourself. Ya really don’t give yourself enough credit, though. (Y/N), ya knit blankets for abuse survivors; ya do things without being asked; and hey, children have weird senses about people, so my niece liking ya can’t be wrong!” (This provoked a smile from you; a good sign.)

“And if you’re really that convinced that you’re ranked behind some creep just because he has a collar on, that to me, that’s a bigger mistake than messing up grace. Because if God can love this goofball who messes up all the time, then I sure as hell can, too. And I sure as hell do.”

At that last sentence, the cold you’d been reintroduced to upon separation from Sonny’s torso resumed. And boy, did it resume with a vengeance. You should’ve known how much blushing could feel like burning and yet, the flooding within your face was overwhelming. Not helping, of course, was that notoriously blissful smile Sonny wore, even as you pressed your face against his chest as if to soothe the sensation.

As if recognizing how flustered he’d made you, you heard his chest rumble: “Especially if they buy me pizza and come to my place just to make me a cake!” The vibrations of him talking were followed with those of him laughing upon hearing a muffled pouting demand that he shut up.

You were too precious. And how could anyone be disappointed in that?

[no-crap-fm]

That Voice - Part 7

Part 7

One of the lads….

Mr. Nelson was going to be working late. When Finn saw the note on the kitchen table after getting home from college, he thought he’d just go to the chippy before meeting the gang at the pub. Finn sat at the table pushing his shoes off and going through his assignments. After getting his maths squared away and starting on his reading for his literature course, he thought it best to shower and change for the evening. Putting on some tunes at top volume, Finn then ran up the stairs to get himself together. A little while later Finn emerged from his room. He carefully chose his blue flannel over his white ringer t-shirt and jeans. Finn switched off his Da’s stereo and grabbed his leather jacket. Keys in hand, he locked up the house and walked out front to his scooter. After his helmet was in place, he kicked off and made for the pub. Chop hit his horn as Finn was pulling up to the car park outside the Swan. Throwing open his door, Chop climbed out and spread his arms at Finn. “There he is. And on time!” Chop beamed as Izzy and Archie climbed out of the car. Izzy ran up and caught Finn in an embrace. “Ya alright, Iz?” Finn asked. In reply she hugged him again and smiled. Finn and Archie shared a nod and the group headed in to take up their usual table. As they crossed the pub Finn announced that the first shout was on him. No one argued. Finn noticed the gang was short a member. “Izzy, where’s Chloe?” Izzy looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Em, she said she’d be here a bit later. She was going to get-….” Finn missed the last bit of Izzy’s response due to Chop yelling, “Tune!” as The Beastie Boys started playing from the jukebox. Shrugging, Finn walked to the bar to get the drinks. He found his thoughts going back to his run in with Mae earlier in the day. He wondered if Mae liked The Beastie Boys. He’d been wondering about her through most of his classes that day. Finn was also hopeful that Chloe would have something to share about Ray. He was still burning up to find his singer. After placing his order, Finn looked around the pub to see if Chloe had shown up yet. Instead of Chloe, he was met by a pair of big hazel eyes, set in a face that had been occupying his thoughts, watching him from the jukebox. He was smiling and before he could consider if it was the right move, he walked over to her. “Ya alright, Mae?” He casually leaned on the glass, a smirk on his face. Rolling her eyes she turned to check out the song titles. “See anything good?” He was testing her. He wanted to know what she would play. Biting her lip, she considered, “Em, well, I heard The Beastie Boys when I came in and I wondered if there was anything else.” Finn straightened up and his smile widened. “Like The Beastie Boys, do ya?” She shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, they’re not bad….for mainstream.” Finn noticed Mae had a smirk of her own as she continued scanning her options. He chuckled. Glancing back at the bar, Finn saw that the drinks were up. “Would you like a drink, Mae? My treat.” He turned back to her. Her smirk dissolved to a shy grin. “Em, yeah. Thanks.” He watched her eyes travel to the side as she thought. “I’ll have a snakebite, please.” Surprised, but pleased by her choice, Finn went back to the bar. He waited for the bartender to get Rae’s drink before walking back to the gang. Taking the proffered tray from the bartender he turned and heard Alright by Supergrass playing in the sound system. He caught Mae’s eye and gestured with his head for her to come over to the table with him. “Not too mainstream for ya?” He asked with a cheeky wink. Shrugging she said, “It’s pretty much all mainstream.” Finn shook his head and laughed as he set the tray of drinks before his mates. “Cheers, mate!” Chop raised his glass. “Oi, Raemundo! I was wonderin’ if we’d have the pleasure of your company.” Catching Chop’s words he asked, “What did ya call her, Chop?” Chop opened his mouth to answer and Mae cut him off. “Just his nickname for me. It seems like you lot love nicknames.” She eyed Finn as Chop said from over her shoulder, “That we do, m’dear!” Chop pulled Mae over to the seat next to him and Izzy. The three were chatting and laughing. Finn took his regular spot by Archie and left the chair next to him empty, in case Chloe showed up. Suddenly, Chloe came running in and grabbing the back of the empty seat by Finn she announced that the girls had to join her in the toilets immediately. Both Izzy and Mae got to their feet and followed Chloe. Finn sighed and pulled out his tobacco tin and rolling papers. He quickly made himself a cigarette. “What d’ya s’pose they get up to in there?” Chop asked. He leaned in to the center of the table conspiratorially. Archie blew out a breath and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “I really don’t want to know, mate.” Finn flicked on his lighter, lit a cigarette and after a long pull slowly exhaled. He sat back in his chair, slouching. “Why d’ya care, Chopper?” Finn raised an eyebrow at him. Chop lifted a shoulder. “Ah, it’s nowt to me. It’s jus’ they do this. Well, Chloe does anyway. It’s a bit funny actually.” Finn shook his head and took another drag. What the girls were talking about was of no consequence to him. As the lads fell into silence, he heard the next song start from the jukebox.

….Maybe I don’t really wanna know


How your garden grows


Cos I just want to fly…..

Finn’s thoughts returned to the first night he was standing outside of Stan’s and heard his singer. Days had passed and he wasn’t getting any closer to finding her. He kept feeling like progress was being made but he still had no idea who she was. He simply had to try harder. Another chat with Chloe seemed like the most probable lead. He was contemplating visiting Stan’s again when Chloe and the girls returned to the table. Finn sat up and stubbed out his cigarette as Chloe took the open seat next to him. “Ya alright, Chlo?” He asked. “Yeah, I’m good. Everything alright with you, Finn?” She leaned closer to him. “S’pose.” Internally he was berating himself for not just asking her about Ray. He coughed. “Em, Chlo…” “Yeah?” She tried to catch his eye. “So, have you…em…” He leaned a little closer to her. The last thing he wanted was for the rest of the gang to overhear them. “What Finn?” She grinned impatiently. “Have you had a chance to see if you knew Ray from the record shop?” He dropped his volume and tried to remain calm. A knowing smile came to Chloe’s face and one eyebrow rose very subtly. She lowered her voice as well. “Ah, Ray. The, em, bloke from the record shop.” She was almost saying it to herself. “Yeah. You said you might know him. Remember?” Chloe nodded confidently. “Oh yeah. I totally know him. I just….needed to find out some things. But yeah, I know….him. Really well.” Finn noticed her eyes widened as she spoke. It almost felt like Chloe was having a laugh at him. He wasn’t sure how that could be. He was feeling very confused. Chloe continued, “Ya know, Finn. I would have thought you’d already know…em, Rae.” She seemed a bit perturbed. “Ya do? Why?” Finn was totally lost. Pushing back in her seat she huffed. “Aw, Finn. I think you’d really like Rae. I really do. You’ve got loads in common.” “Yeah, I thought so too. And I think his girlfriend…” Finn stopped. Chloe looked shocked. “His what?!” Finn closed his mouth and froze. “Finn, Finn!” Chloe squeezed his arm. “Ya think Rae has a girlfriend?!” Finn didn't think it sounded so hard to believe. He shrugged. “Yeah. I did. I mean, when I went by Stan’s a couple of nights in the past week I heard….” Again, he stopped. He didn’t think it was a good idea to carry on telling Chloe the story. “Ya heard? Ya heard what, Finn? Come on. Out with it.” Chloe tried to coax the words out and gestured with her hands for him to continue. Finn sighed. “Alright.” He leaned in closer again and whispered. “A couple of nights in the last week or so I was walking home from the pub.” He paused. Chloe nodded. “Well, the first night I heard music coming from Stan’s well after closing time. When I walked over to the window I could hear that someone was singing along with the music.” He bit his lip and glanced at Chloe. She anxiously nodded again. “Em, well, it was a girl, I think. And she had the most amazing voice.” Chloe laughed. “Seriously, Chlo. I’ve never heard anything like it. I just wanted to know who she was and hear more. I walked past another time and I heard her again. She was singing along with some really good tunes too.” He sat back, worn out by talking so much. Chloe blinked and asked, “So why are you looking for some GUY named Ray?” “Because that’s the name of the guy who works at Stan’s after the shop closes, isn’t it? That’s the name Stan gave me. He said a lot had changed in his shop since Ray started working there. I figured Ray must have a girlfriend, who’s a singer, who hangs out with him while he’s working.” It made sense to him. What other explanation could there be? Chloe laughed. She sat back in her seat and laughed. She was laughing so much the rest of the group stopped their discussions and turned to her. Chloe laughed so hard she could scarcely breathe. “Oi, Chloe. What’s up?” Chop had to know what was so funny. Chloe just waved her hand, unable to speak. Finn saw her wipe away a tear she was laughing so hard. It annoyed him. He moved to whisper in her ear. “What are you on about, Chlo? I don’t see what’s so funny.” She took a deep breath and sat back. “Ah, Finn. It is really funny. You’ll know why soon enough.” She put a comforting hand on his forearm. Finn brushed her off and pushed away from the table. The gang watched him storm out. Chloe was pissing him off. Finn was not understanding her and it was beyond frustrating. He walked to the back of the pub and took the exit door to the pub’s garden. Pulling out his tin of tobacco he lit one of his back up cigarettes. After a few inhalations he felt his anger diminish. He was still utterly lost as far as Chloe’s reaction to his story was concerned. Fortunately, the sky was clear tonight and provided a distraction for Finn. Grateful for his jacket, he watched the smoke rise and slowly dissipate in the crisp evening air. He leaned back against a picnic table from a bench seat. The stars were out. Finn let his thoughts wander to the lights above him. He was too focused to notice the back door open and a person stumble out to the garden behind him. He was smoking another cigarette and quietly humming as he contemplated the stars. “Hhhmmm, Stand By Me, eh? A nice choice for tonight.” Finn’s humming ceased and his eyes snapped toward the speaker. Mae stood by the edge of his bench, her eyes were raised toward the constellations he was previously studying. He was pleased to see her. Had he just been thinking about her? Finn wasn’t certain. As she kept her gaze skyward, Finn examined her. He noticed her profile. A smile lifted her round cheek. She looked flushed, a rosy sheen bloomed on her fair skin. Her hair was hanging in long wisps around her face and shoulders. Perhaps she came out to escape the heat of the pub. As if she heard his thought, she gathered her hair in one of her hands and held it up off her neck. “Hot in there, was it?” Finn leaned toward her. He waggled his eyebrows. She laughed lightly. “Yeah, a bit. It was getting too close in there.” Patting the open space next to him on the bench, he said, “Well, it’s much cooler out here.” She looked at him and then the bench. Finn wanted her to sit. Mae hesitated and lifted her eyes to his. He gave her an encouraging smile and patted the bench again. She seated herself a little ways off from him. Finn was glad to have her company though he would have preferred she sat closer. She pulled down her skirt over her leggings as she sat down. Finn caught a sweet scent as her hair fell forward while she situated herself. His arm moved behind her of its own accord. Finn was suddenly very aware of her proximity. “You stopped humming.” She said, keeping her eyes up. He chuckled. “Em, s’pose. I didn’t know I was doing it.” He felt his cheeks grow hot. Mae laughed quietly. “Well, it was a good choice of tune. I would probably choose Little By Little myself.” Finn turned toward her, bending his leg on the bench. “Would ya hum some for us now?” She turned her head to look at him. She raised her eyebrows and bit her lip. Finn’s eyes darted toward her mouth at the movement. “Em, maybe. If not now, perhaps another night.” He kicked his leg over the bench, now straddling the seat to better face her. “Aw, you’re not too shy to hum a little tune for us. Are ya, Mae?” She stifled a laugh at his eager expression. She shook her head. “I will not be baited. You cheeky….” She smiled at him, her arms crossed over her chest. Finn rested his chin in the hand he’d placed on the table and watched Mae. Seeing his change in posture she laughed and shook her head again. She let out a breath and narrowed her gaze. “You stormed out of there pretty fast. Chloe upset ya?” He shrugged. “Nah, it weren’t that.” “Then what? Ya don’t have to tell me. I was just wondering if you were alright.” She seemed so shy. Finn wasn’t expecting her quiet inquiry. “Yeah. Fine.” He stubbed out his cigarette and flicked the butt into the yard. Mae pressed, “It’s just that I know Chloe can be difficult….. especially if ya like her.” Finn was thrown by her comment. “What do ya mean?” His vocal pitch went up an octave. Mae shrugged and frowned. Cottoning on, Finn said, “D’ya mean like fancy her and that?” Mae nodded mutely. Finn thought she looked sad. He wasn’t sure what happened. Finn laughed. “Mae, I don’t fancy Chloe. We’re just mates. Like Izzy. Like Archie and Chop. We’re all mates. That’s it. Well, except for Chop and Izzy. Those two are….complicated.” Another laugh escaped him and he felt a blush creep up his neck. The smile returned to her face. Finn mirrored it and held her gaze. “Well, I’m glad you’re OK.” Her eyes moved down to her hands now occupied fiddling with the zip on her jacket. He put a hand over hers and gave it a little squeeze. “Thanks for that, Mae.” “S’nothin’. But if you ever want to talk about stuff…” She offered. “Em, thanks for that. I’m not much for talkin’ usually.” It occurred to Finn that he’d been talking quite a bit with this girl. “Oh, well, I don’t want to bother ya.” Mae moved to stand and presumably go back in the pub. Finn’s arm shot out and he grabbed her, halting her movement. “No, I meant, em, I’m no good with speaking. But, I do like talkin’ to you.” He gave her a closed lip smile. She let out a breath. “Oh. That’s OK. Em, I like talkin’ to you too.” Finn caught her covering a yawn with her hand. He looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. And we have college in the morning. Can I give ya a ride home?” “Didn’t you bring a scooter?” She looked worried. “Yeah. You can use my helmet if you’re scared.” He noticed a strange look in her eyes. Finn wasn’t sure what she was thinking. “Em, can it hold both of us?” She looked embarrassed. Finn scoffed. “Of course! Come on, Mae. It’ll be fun.” He stood and offered his hand to help her up. She eyed his hand. Finn saw her fingers curl up and open again. Finally she compromised and took his hand in one of hers and used her other to push up off the bench. Finn thought this was progress from the last time he tried to help her up. Rather than walk back through the pub, the pair took the side gate out of the pub’s garden. They walked in silence to the car park. Finn popped open the scooter’s boot and gave Mae his helmet. “What about you?” He thought it was sweet that she was worried. “I’ll be fine, Mae. It’s a short ride. I’ll get it back from you when I drop you off. Next time I’ll remember to bring my other helmet.” He winked at her and helped her put it on. The ride to Mae’s was over in a blink. Finn helped her dismount the scooter and guided his helmet off her head. “So, was it terrible, Mae?” He leaned on the handlebars and gave her a silly grin. “Nah, it was fun actually.” “Good.” “Em, well, goodnight Finn. Thanks for bringing me home.” “It was my pleasure, Mae.” He was about to put his helmet on when she asked, “Why do ya keep calling me that? I know why Chop calls me Raemundo. But I don’t understand the Mae stuff.” Dropping down the helmet Finn was incredulous. “Em, because it’s your name.” She shook her head. “No it’s not. Are you having a laugh?” Finn shook his head, unsure of what to say. “Well, then what is your name?” “Em, it’s Rachel. Rachel Earl.” “Ya sure it’s not Mae?” Now he was having a laugh. How did he get Mae from Rachel? He’d have to ask Chloe. She laughed in response. “Well, I still like Mae. I think I’ll keep it.” She smiled. “It’s OK. I don’t really go by Rachel anyway.” Finn put his hands up. “There you are then. Mae it is. Alright?” She nodded. “Alright.” Finn took one of her hands and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Goodnight, Mae. I’ll see you at college.” He saw her cheeks redden. It was so cute. “Goodnight, Finn.” She backed away, out of his grasp. He watched her head into the house. He stayed there until he saw her light in the upstairs window. He then started his scooter and pushed down his helmet. A clean, sweet smell greeted him as he breathed in her scent all the way home.

Thank you so much for reading! The end is nigh....- K.