#currently in Boston helping my wife move in to get apartment

[gigagasp]

God is putting me through trials LMAO

[kaunis-sielu]

A Payment: 6

“Hi Sweetheart, sorry I had some business to take care of this morning and had to go. How did you sleep last night?”

“Fine.”

“Steven Grant Rogers you are in so much trouble.” Wanda snaps throwing a towel at him that Steve easily catches.

“What? Why?”

“Your wife didn’t eat for twenty-four hours! She didn’t eat at all yesterday!” Steve looks surprised then looks down at you.

“Is that true? You didn’t eat yesterday?”

“I mean, it’s fine I wasn’t really hungry.”

“Queenie, that’s not what I asked.” He says softly and you can’t look at him so instead you stab one of the pieces of pancake on your plate with your fork.

“I didn’t eat yesterday. I was really nervous about everything and then we got busy and stuff so I didn’t eat.”

“Sweetheart,” He rumbles sitting down next to you, “You can’t do that, it’s dangerous.”

“I know, I didn’t do it on purpose. Is there anything that I need to know about where you were this morning?” You ask glancing up at him and he gives you a fond little smile.

“Nah Honey. Just a couple of guys who betrayed my trust and needed to be taught a lesson.” It’s a little unnerving how he can say that with so little concern but if he’s been ingrained in this life as long as you have you’re not surprised that he can.

“Um okay,” You finish eating in silence then go get ready to head back to Boston tomorrow. You haven’t talked with Steve about it but you have an apartment to sell and pack up, you’ve contacted your boss and have been given the okay to work remotely if you can come in for a few days every other month which shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not like it’s a long trip to go to Boston from New York, but you’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a fight with Steve. He’s not going to like you leaving or staying somewhere that isn’t his home, but you’ll get to that when it happens.

“Queenie? What are you doing?” He asks walking into the bedroom.

“I have to go home, to Boston I mean, to pack up my place and sell it.”

“Do you want to go today?”

“My ticket is for tomorrow.”

“Ticket?”

“We take the train.” Steve frowns but doesn’t say anything. “So, it’ll probably take me a couple of days to get everything together. Maybe a week.”

“Oh Doll that’s way too long, let me take you we’ll get everything packed up and moved within three days.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.” You tell him folding another dress and putting it into your suitcase.

“You’re not, I’d kind of like to see the city you’ve called home.” He says, you know that he’s probably going to continue to fight you on this so you give a noncommittal shrug,

“I guess if you want to come with you can. I want to take the train still. I find it relaxing and we have a private car.” He sighs softly but looks down at you fondly.

“Alright, but I’m coming with.” He tells you folding his arms across his chest and it’s your turn to let out a long sigh and he grins.

“If you must.”

“I must.” He steps into your space and you look up at him in surprise. “Stark said that we didn’t act much like a couple in love.”

“Oh? And we care what he thinks because?”

“Because he’s my closest ally. He knows I’d never let my wife go unprotected.” It’s so weird for you to hear him call you his wife.

“You don’t have business to attend to?”

“Nothing I can’t move around.”

“What is your business?” You ask suddenly realizing that you don’t even know his front, a dangerous bit of information to not know in this life.

“I own an airline.” You stop folding the shirt in your hands and blink up at him.

“An airline? One that I might know?”

“Nomad.” Your eyebrows raise, Nomad is one of the best and most popular airlines in the country.

“Oh,” he gives you that little smirk of a smile again and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Lance has all the information for the train, you’ll need to buy a ticket.”

“Or we could just fly?”

“And add to the pollution that planes already cause?” You ask him sweetly and he grins,

“We’re working toward zero emissions, currently we’re down forty percent in the last five years and I have a huge amount of funding going toward our company going completely green.”

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive.” You admit begrudgingly and he laughs,

“I like impressing you.” He says giving you a look that sends a rush of want through you. What the hell?

“I won’t make it easy.” You warn, and he looks pleased.

“Good, I’ve always liked a challenge.” He gives you a wink then turns and heads out of the room. You finish packing then go to his bookshelf to see if you can find anything worth reading. You grab a book and read until Wanda comes and finds you for dinner. You follow her down to the dining room, you’re surprised when you get to there and you find that instead of it being an empty table with you on one end and Steve on the other the table is full of people. Lance, Bucky, Steve, other people you don’t know. There are only two seats empty, one at Steve’s left and the other next to a tall man with intense eyes and white hair. You freeze in the doorway and Steve’s gaze meets yours,

“Sweetheart. Our family.” He says, “I have a spot here for you.” He gestures to the empty seat to his left and you make your way to the seat then sit down. “You alright?”

“They just, eat with us?”

“Yes, they’re our family and anyone who wants to join our table can.”

“Oh, okay.” Lance, who is seated at your left, touches your arm and when you look up at him he gives you a soft smile,

“Q, this isn’t your father’s home.” He says quietly, he knows that this is a culture shock for you. Your father’s home was cold and formal and lonely. So lonely.

You give him a small smile and pat his arm then focus back on your plate. A piece of ham is slid onto it and when you look up you see Steve giving you a gentle smile.

“How was the rest of your day?”

“Good. I read a book and took a nap. So not overly productive, which is why I like to have a job.”

“You get bored without one?” He asks passing you a bowl of green beans.

“Very much so.”

“Will your job let you stay with them?” You scoop some green beans onto your plate then pass along the bowl to Lance,

“They will..” you admit as you take a scoop of mashed potatoes but you pass on the gravy.

“I feel like there’s a but at the end of that.” Steve says cutting into his ham.

“There is, they want me to come in a few days every other month.” You wait anxiously hoping that he’s not going to tell you no.

“We’ll work something out. I’ll probably send one of mine with you too so you have two people with you. Are you sure you want to sell your place? You’ll need somewhere to stay when you get there.”

“I can always stay at a hotel? My father owns one there.”

“No.” His sharp refusal causes you to blink in surprise.

“What?”

“No. You are not to have any contact with anyone in your father’s business.”

“Excuse me?”

“Am I not being clear?” He asks glancing at you, the words are harsher than the tone is.

“You’re being paranoid.”

“About your safety? Absolutely.” He says calmly and honestly it’s so irritating.

“So what do you propose then?” You challenge him taking a bite of your mashed potatoes.

“I’ll buy a hotel.” You gape at him but he just keeps eating. He’ll buy a whole hotel in Boston just so you have a place to stay for a few days every other month? “Unless you just want to keep your apartment?”

“I feel like it would be cheaper in the long run to just keep my apartment.”

“But a hotel is a good investment and I can make sure security is up to my standards. Pietro?” The white haired young man seated next to Wanda stops talking and looks toward Steve,

“Yea?”

“I want you to find me a hotel to buy in Boston.”

“A hotel?”

“Yea, close to the airport would be preferred so we can do some sort of deal. Fly with us stay with us get a discount. We can also offer a shuttle for additional fee.”

“I’ll get on it tonight.” You stare at Steve in surprise, he just, he decided to buy a hotel for you? Well, okay maybe not for you but because of you?

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @sky0401 @dontbescaredtosingalong @abschaffer2 @patzammit @inkedaztec @newdaynewyearnewlife @sophham

[sunflowerspecter]

ghost of cases past (a.h.)

summary: friends can be found in strange places. 

warnings: mentions of death, ghosts

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

words: 1.8k 

note: lmao this is 100% born of my love for julie and the phantoms and also might turn into a series? let me know what you think of this one AND if you would like more! (also if you’re on my taglist and don’t want to be, no hard feelings! just leave a message or an ask! 

~~~oOo~~~

Emily was staring at him like he was crazy. 

To be fair, he probably was. 

“What do you mean you saw a ghost?” she said, crossing her arms. He looked helplessly across the empty bullpen, the office dark and unsettling in the late hour. The only light came from the lamp on Emily’s desk and the lamp in Hotch’s office, which poured dimly down the stairs. 

“I mean that I saw someone walk towards my office door, assumed it was you, opened the door, and then saw nothing.” 

“Like, you had just imagined it?” Emily sighed, looking down at the watch on her wrist. “It’s almost 3 in the morning. You’re sleep deprived. Let me drive you home.” 

“I’m still on London time,” he said. He and Emily had just arrived back from a rather brutal consultation at Interpol. The man had been on the run for nearly a decade, and some of Emily’s old friends suggested the BAU. Strauss couldn’t afford to lose the entire team, so just Hotch and Emily had been sent, although the use of the entire team probably would have been helpful. 

“Yeah, and even in London time, neither of us have slept in three days.” Hotch crossed his arms, and Emily just raised an eyebrow. He wouldn’t fight her on it. “Come on. If there’s really a ghost, you can look for it after you sleep.” He just nodded, gathering his things. She watched as he did. 

He followed her out of the bullpen, sparing only a glance over his shoulder as they waited for the elevator. He could have sworn he saw someone. 

He yawned. 

Maybe Emily was right. 

Finally, the door opened, and Emily ushered Hotch in. The doors closed, and then they were in Emily’s car, and then she was walking him inside his apartment, and then he was asleep. 

He dreamed of someone he had never seen before. Someone who felt familiar. He couldn’t name them, though. 

~~~oOo~~~

Three and a half weeks later, the team sits hopelessly around the conference room table. The current case had no leads, no sufficient evidence, and nothing to base a profile off of. They also had a woman missing, and no hope of finding her before time ran out. The team was scrambling to come up with something, anything, and the tension in the room was going to give Hotch a heart attack. 

“I’m going to take a breather,” he said quietly, standing. Everyone watched as he left the room, walking briskly through the poorly lit hall and through the darkened bullpen, trying to find someplace to ground himself. They tried to work without him, but really, they had all noticed him falling apart the last couple of weeks. 

“Should we send someone after him?” Morgan asked, looking around at his teammates. 

Emily shook her head. “I think that’ll just stress him out more. Give him a minute.” 

Meanwhile, in a corner somewhere between Garcia’s office and the elevator, Hotch was leaning against a wall, closing his eyes as tightly as they would go. 

“Aaron,” you said quietly, and Hotch snapped to attention, looking down the hall. Near Garcia’s door, there was you, wearing dark pants and a t-shirt with the name of a band he didn’t recognize. 

“Who are you?” he called, but you ducked into Garcia’s office. He raced down the hall, throwing the door open, just to find the room completely empty. 

From behind him, you gave him your first name. He spun around, his eyes narrowing. “That’s alright, I wouldn’t expect you to know me.” 

“You, you can’t be here,” he said, taking a half step back. “This building is federal, federal…” he trailed off, squinting his eyes as he stared into yours. That was when he noticed it, the fact that your eyes were different. Not just a strange color, but no color at all. Your eyes were solid black, as if you were a demon in a horror film. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” 

You frowned, blinking, and suddenly they looked human. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Sometimes they do that. I wasn’t aware of it until an old friend of mine pointed it out.” 

He looked down the hall again. “You really can’t be here, I’m afraid I’m going to have to see you out.” 

“I don’t think anyone would really mind that I’m here,” you said, turning and walking down the hall, past Garcia’s office. He followed you, his pace brisk and his stride wide as you seemingly floated ahead of him. “I’m not really here, after all.” He stopped, but you kept going, so he reached forward to grab your arm, and found that he couldn’t touch you; his hand went right through your body. He took a step back, shocked and appalled. 

“What are you?” he called. You turned around to him, shrugging. 

“I’ve been called many different things. Technically, I’m a ghost. I believe there’s something involving unfinished business that qualifies me as that.” Hotch takes a breath, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m your first ghost. That’s okay, I can answer all of your questions.” 

“I think I need to see a doctor,” he said, turning away from you. 

“It won’t help,” you called after him. “I’m very real.” 

But he was already gone. 

~~~oOo~~~

He didn’t go to work for four days, after they finally solved that case. Called in sick. Everyone knew it was a lie (Hotch hadn’t had a sick day in years) but no one dared protest. 

On the fifth day, he showed up at eight in the morning and didn't leave his office until everyone had left. At nearly 12:30 in the morning he began to pack up his things, but then he heard a knock on his door. 

“You know,” you began, stepping through the door. “You really shouldn’t work so much.” He stared. He blinked. He stared again. 

“Who are you?” 

“I already told you my name.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Alright, what are you doing here?” 

You hummed, crossing your arms to match his, leaning against the doorframe. To his surprise, you didn’t fall (float?) through it. “I don’t know. One day I was living it up with some skaters in the In Between, the next I’m walking the halls of this building.” 

For a moment, everything was silent but for the incessant buzzing of the walls. You supposed he was trying to figure out if he believed your story or not. 

“Can you leave?” 

“Well, that’s just rude,” you said with mock-offense. He shook his head and you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“No, no, I mean,” he took a breath. “Are you able to leave?” 

You turned the thought over in your head. “Yes, I believe so. I’ve never heard of a case where someone couldn’t leave. Those skaters knew a lot.” 

“Have you tried leaving?” 

“Only a few blocks down, though. There isn’t much to do when you’re dead.” 

He was stunned into silence for a few moments, and then, “How did you know my name?” He knew how you knew his name; it’s on his door, it’s all over this office, spoken or written. You knew what he really wanted to ask. 

“It’s everywhere,” you said quietly. “Including on your door.” 

“Why are you talking to me?” 

“Because you’re the leader of this team.” 

“Once again, why are you talking to me?” He wasn’t annoyed or harsh with his words, but he was straight to the point; he was kindly demanding answers. 

You sighed, taking a seat across from him. He watched you move. “Because I think my unfinished business has something to do with a case you’ve worked.” 

“Unfinished business?” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Like,” you sighed. “Like, why I’m here. Why I’m a ghost. Something that happened or didn’t happen in my life that I need to solve.” 

“Oh,” he said, turning in his chair and opening a drawer. “Which case?” 

You hesitated, just for a moment. “I don’t know. I worked a lot of them.” He froze, his eyes meeting yours. “I was a detective. In Boston.” 

“Wait—” 

“I was killed by an officer under duress during the Reaper case.”  

“The Boston Reaper,” he repeated, looking down at his hands, and you nodded. He met your eyes again, and shook his head. “That case was closed.” 

Your eyes widened. “The Reaper was caught?” 

He’s too quiet. 

“I killed the Reaper.” 

A beat. 

“Who was it?” 

Another beat. 

“George Foyet.” 

“The first survivor.” 

Two beats. 

“Yes.” 

You hummed. “It’s always the ones you least suspect.” 

“Amen to that,” he muttered. He shook his head. “But Foyet is dead.” 

“You killed him,” you said, tilting your head. He nodded. 

“He killed my wife. Ex-wife, that is.” He met your eyes, and you almost shook your head. “Did you know her? Is she in your world, the Between or whatever you called it?” 

The hope in his voice broke your heart. “What was her name?” 

“Haley. Haley Hotchner. Or, or Haley Brooks.” 

“You’re kidding,” you mumbled, your eyes widening. “Haley Brooks?” He nodded, his eyes lighting up. “I knew her. Not in the In Between, before I died.”

“You knew her when she was alive? How?” 

“It was a long time ago. She was a friend of a friend and needed a place to stay for the weekend. She and her son… your son. They stayed with me for a weekend. She was… she was nice. She and I kept in contact until I died. It was actually around a year later when I died.” When you finished, he just nodded. 

“If I have the timeline correct, she probably died around a year after you did,” he said. He looked up at you. “Can other people see you?” 

“So far, just you,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. “I tried talking to that boy in the sweater vest, but he couldn’t see me. And neither could the blonde girl, JJ, I think?” You hummed, lifting the corner of your lips. “That pretty one, Morgan, I think. He couldn’t see me either. Shame.” 

Aaron grumbled at that, but you pretended not to notice. “Well, you can’t stay here. You’ll die of boredom.” You raised an eyebrow, and he added, “Again.” 

“Where would you suggest I go, then?” you said, and his eyes flicked to yours. 

“Well, I mean. I have an apartment that you could. I dunno. Do you sleep?” 

“I mean, it’s not exactly necessary, but I do get tired, so yes. I’ve been sleeping in Garcia’s office. Are you offering to let me stay with you? What about your son?” You glanced at the picture of the boy on his desk. 

“He may not be able to see you.” 

You turned the offer over in your head. “I mean, I suppose until I find out what my unfinished business is, following you around wouldn’t be too bad.” 

“Then it’s settled,” he said. Then he looked back down at his watch. “It’s really late. Er, early.” 

“Let’s get going, then.”

taglist; let me know if you wanna be added or removed! 

@quillvine @winterscaptain @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @averyhotchner

[javier-djarin]

Como Me Duele: Chapter 1

Ship: Javi x Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,270 words

Warnings: Language

Masterlist

Summary: After your life fell apart six months ago, you decided it was time for a change. So, you moved to Colombia, taking a position at a local hospital. Your family thinks you’re insane, but The Murphys couldn’t be happier having you as their neighbor. Upon your first, and very brief, meeting with Agent Peña, you’ve captivated him. Despite Steve’s warnings, Javier still wants to get to know you on a more personal level.

A/N: This takes place a little into season 1. This is my first time writing Javier. So, please let me know what you think. Please let me know if you want to be on my taglist!

Your POV

You had been living in Colombia for about a week, working at the hospital as a doctor. You had signed up for one of those Doctors Without Borders programs after you broke it off with your faithless, bastard of a fiancé. You needed a change of pace and a change of scenery - a way to forget about what happened. When he heard you were leaving, he accused you of running away from your problems instead of trying to fix them. Maybe he was right, but after catching him sleeping with your Maid of Honor, you knew there was no fixing your problems. You wanted to leave that life, the memories and pain, behind and find yourself somewhere new.

Your old college friend and roommate, Connie, told you about the hospital in Colombia and how it was in terrible need of assistance. Luckily for you, she had said, there was even an apartment in her building that had just opened up. You took this as a good sign and applied for the position. Your family, mother in particular, thought you had lost your mind. Colombia was dangerous; especially with the likes of Pablo Escobar running rampant. However, you reassured her that you weren’t alone since Connie and her husband Steve were down there and were going to be your neighbors in Bogotá. 

You moved down there in March, just before Spring. You decided to head down a few weeks early to get acclimated to the area and comfortable in your new apartment. Connie sat with you in the middle of your floor as you unpacked some boxes with a wine bottle between the two of you. “I’m so glad you took the job,” she said sipping on the red wine.

You smiled. “I had to get out of there. Everywhere I went, people stared at me, pitied me for what he did.”

Connie shook her head and took another drink. “I still can’t believe Michael did that to you. You guys had been together since undergrad!”

“I don’t know if his or Hannah’s betrayal hurt worse,” you sighed, taking a huge swig of wine, “but now I’m here ready to start over.” 

You froze as you pulled out a photo album from a box. It was your engagement photos. Instinctively, Connie reached for the album. “I’ll get rid of this.”

You pulled it back. “No. I want to keep it. It can always remind me that things could be worse.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll stay in this box forever, probably, but I’ll still have that reminder. No matter how bad things get, I didn’t marry a lying bastard.”

Connie laughed and held her wine glass up. “Cheers to that, girl.”

You pushed your glasses up on your face and stretched. “I have so much unpacking still, but it’s getting late.”

“I can stop by after work tomorrow if you want.”

“You sure Steve won’t mind?”

She shook her head. “He’s been working late these last few nights. But, if he is coming home early, I can have him pick up dinner for the three of us.”

You knew Steve was a DEA Agent and that he volunteered for this job when his partner in Miami was murdered. This move had been rough on Connie, but she loved her husband dearly and would follow him to the ends of the Earth. Your heart ached for that kind of love, but you knew that with the cards you had been dealt, you needed to wait for a new hand. “If he doesn’t mind, then Girls’ Night Round 2 will commence.”

There was a knock at the door. You looked puzzled at Connie. You literally only knew Connie and Steve down here, so you weren’t expecting anyone. You stood up from the floor and fixed the messy bun your hair was in. You opened the door and saw Steve standing there with another man. You had seen him before and figured he worked with Steve and lived nearby. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek, “is Connie still here?”

“I’m in here, Steve,” she said holding up her glass of wine at him. 

“Ah, yes. I see you two are still catching up.”

You laughed. “Come on in. It’s not much, because we are still unpacking.”

Steve and his friend stepped inside. You adjusted your glasses again and grinned at him. The man behind Steve cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry. Y/N, this is my partner Javier Peña.”

You held out your hand for him to shake. He grabbed it and gave you a devilish grin. “Nice to meet you,” you said.

“Mucho gusto,” he said in Spanish. The syllables flowed off his tongue and almost had you melting where you stood. You could tell just by those two words he was exactly what you wanted to avoid. You glanced up at his dark brown eyes and smiled. No matter how good looking this man was, you needed to avoid him at all costs. He smelled like trouble.

You turned away and walked back into the room with Connie. “What did you need, honey?” she asked.

“We gotta fly out tonight,” he said, “to Medellín.”

She stood up. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “Few days probably.”

Connie sat her glass down. “Thank God I have Y/N to keep me company then.”

“I’m sure we can find plenty of trouble to get into while you’re gone,” you said with a grin. 

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Just don’t get too friendly with the local law enforcement while we are gone.”

“Hey,” you argued, “I haven’t been friendly with them since after I completed my residency.” You saw Javier’s eyebrows raise in curiosity, but you ignored him. “And even then I still talked my way out of the cell.”

“Connie, she’s not helping,” he said.

“I’ll keep her out of trouble. We will be more focused on setting up her apartment anyway.”

Smiling, Steve leaned in to kiss his wife. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“Be safe. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He and Javier walked out of the door. Before closing it behind him, Javier turned to you and said, “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

You smiled and nodded. “Likewise.”

You waited a few seconds before saying anything to Connie. “He radiates trouble.”

Connie sat back down on the ground and laughed. “You could say that. I love Javi, but he’s a little more trouble than you would want right now.”

“I doubt I’ll see much of him once I start working anyway.”

She grinned at you and took another sip of her wine.

His POV

He followed Steve down the stairs of their apartment complex without saying a word. It wasn’t until they reached his Jeep did Steve finally break the silence. “Okay, man, just say it,” he said.

“Say what?”

“I’m not a moron Peña.”

He grinned and started the car. Boston came on through the speaker. “I fucking love this band,” he said, cranking up the volume. 

Steve leaned over and turned it down. “Come on. I saw you look at her.”

“I had to when you introduced me.”

“Okay, but I saw you look at her. Just promise me this, you won’t try anything with her. She’s one of Connie’s best friends and she’s been through enough. I don’t need my wife trying to murder my partner because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

Javier laughed and put his Jeep in drive. “With our schedule, I don’t think I’d have time to try anyway.”

Steve let out an audible, annoyed sigh. He knew that was Peña’s way of getting around making any promises. Luckily, he knew Y/N well enough to know she could hold her own. If she didn’t want a man to fuck with her, she’d let them have it. Part of him wanted to see her give Peña’s ego a reality check, but the other part didn’t want him anywhere near her. 

They rode in silence for a little while, and Javier’s mind began to wander. In her messy bun, glasses, oversized concert shirt, and short shorts, she was the sexiest woman he’d seen. He wanted to run his hands down over her round, plump ass and pull her down on his lap, devouring as much of her as he could. He could still feel her soft, delicate hand in his while she gave him a nice firm handshake. He pictured taking each of those fingers and nibbling on them before he worked his way to her wrist and up the rest of her arm. These thoughts made him a little uncomfortable and he adjusted in his seat.

Steve looked at him, disgusted. “I know what you’re thinking about. Find the local whorehouse when we get to Medellín, please, so you can get this out of your system.”

Javier rolled his eyes. “I can’t help it. You didn’t warn me that your wife’s friend looked like that!”

Steve rested his hand in his hand near the window. “Look, man, she will destroy you. Trust me, she wants nothing to do with your shit right now. I’m pretty sure she hates all men.”

“What happened?”

“Her piece of shit fiancé slept with her Maid of Honor about two months before the wedding.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. So leave her alone.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything that will make her regret moving to Bogotá.”

He did it again. Made a promise without making a promise he would break. Steve leaned forward and turned the music up a little bit. An Aerosmith song was playing now and offered as a nice distraction from their current topic. Steve knew there was no way he would get Javier to promise he wouldn’t try to sleep with Y/N. 

Your POV

Just as she promised, Connie came over after work to help you finish setting up your apartment. You had everything out of the boxes, now and were working on organizing things. Connie walked in with food from a local bar just down the street and some more wine. “I figured if Steve is still gone tomorrow, we can go out with a few people from the hospital. It’ll be a great chance for you to meet everyone.”

You took a bite of your food. “Just let me know what time.”

“The staff is wonderful down here. How’s your Spanish?”

“Rusty, but I think I can manage.”

“Great! I’ll come by after work tomorrow to come get you. It’s just a short walk from here.”

You finished your dinner and downed a glass of wine. Connie noticed when she walked in that you were a little off. She noticed how puffy and red your eyes were, but she figured that was from wearing contacts all day. “Is everything okay?”

You sighed and put your head in your hands. “Michael called this afternoon. He was begging me to come home and work it out.”

“How did he get your number?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea. I want to say my mother, but there’s no way she would have given it to him. He wants to burn him alive for what he did to me.”

“What did you tell him?”

“To fuck off.” You tried to fake a smile, but it didn’t work.

Connie caught on. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But you don’t have to deal with him anymore. He’s out of your life now. You’re somewhere new, ready to move on.”

Sighing, you took another sip of your wine. “It’s not that simple, Connie. We were together through undergrad, through med school. I thought he was it. The love of my life. I can’t just forget that.”

She reached forward and grabbed your hand. “I know, but don’t let him get to you. Who knows how long they were fucking before you caught them.”

“A year. Or so he says.”

“A year! You were engaged for almost a year!”

You felt the tears brimming in your eyes, ready to stream down your cheeks. “I know. I still have more questions than he had answers.”

“When I told Steve what happened, he was ready to fly home and murder Michael himself.”

You smiled. “Tell him he can take a number.”

Connie laughed. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

You shrugged your shoulders. "It's fine," you said, "I don't know what I would have done if Kate wasn't there."

She came around the counter and wrapped an arm around you, putting her head on your shoulder. "She should come down once you're settled. I miss her."

"I told her that once I was moved in, I would give her a call."

She smiled and clapped her hands. "It'll be just like senior year!"

You grabbed the dishes and placed them in your sink, scrubbing the food off them before letting them dry. Connie moved into your living room and started organizing all of your books by genre. "I can't believe you brought all of these," she said. 

"I only brought my favorites!" You defended. 

The bookshelves were set up comfortably around your TV set and were just barely big enough to house all of your books. You followed behind Connie placing picture frames and knick-knacks on the shelves to give your little library more character. You stopped when you found a picture that was taken of your med school graduation. You and Connie were surrounded by your friends with Steve clinging to her side...and Michael to yours. It was one of your favorite pictures, but now it only brought back the pain. You gently set it on the second shelf, at eye level for you. Connie watched you stare at it and felt her heart break for you. She waited for you to say something first. "What hurts the most is remembering all of the moments like these. The nostalgia of when we were happy and in love."

Connie walked over to you and rested her hand on your back. "We had so much fun that night," she smiled. 

"And given what I know, I would do it all over again."

The phone rang, startling both of you. You rolled your eyes. "I'll answer it," Connie said.

She walked to the wall where you mounted your phone and picked up the line. "Hello?"

"Y/N?" A familiar masculine voice said on the other end. 

"She's busy," Connie dryly replied. 

"Oh, it's you, Connie."

"She doesn't want to talk to you, Michael. So, stop calling here."

"You don't understand. I need her back. I cannot do this without her."

"Well, you should have thought about before you started fucking Hannah."

"I made a mistake," he pleaded.

"Clearly you weren't that sorry if you kept going back."

She heard him sigh through the receiver. "This is between me and Y/N. Give her the phone."

"She's getting ready. We're heading out with Steve and his partner Javi for the evening to celebrate her leaving your worthless ass."

"Wait. Javi-" she slammed the receiver on the wall and turned to face you. 

"Now that's settled, back to decorating." She was obviously very proud of herself.

"Javi?" You grinned.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. It's not like he's going to come down here to bring you home."

You laughed. "Thank you."

"Of course." She finished putting the books away for you before going to the stacks of pictures on the floor. “Y/N, we need to update some of these.”

“Let’s do it!” You saw Connie taking the photos out of frames and making piles of them on your side table. She laid them neatly inside the drawer. She, then, started hanging up the empty frames. “What are you doing?”

“That way you remember that we should update them with pictures down here.”

You smiled at her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His POV

They were on a stake out just outside of a rundown building that they believed was one of Escobar’s operations. They needed to find proof that Escobar was in fact a Narcos to help derail his political ambitions. Javi sat in the passenger seat staring out the window, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. “Hey,” Steve said, “wake up. I’m not going to sit here on this stake out on my own.”

Javier grumbled and sat up in his seat. “Look, no one has come in or out of this building for hours. I think we need to throw it in. We got bad information.”

Steve leaned his head back on the headrest and sighed. “You might be right. I don’t know what’s worse. This or sitting back at the office going through paperwork.”

He laughed and grabbed a cigarette to light. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh great. I absolutely love it when you do that.”

Javier rolled his eyes. “I think Connie’s friend needs a good distraction to forget what that piece of shit fiancé did to her.”

“Are we seriously going to talk about this again?”

“Come on, Steve. You can’t forbid me from talking to her. That makes her like…” he paused, trying to think of the appropriate metaphor, “forbidden fruit.”

“Forbidden Fruit?” Steve laughed. “Jesus Christ.”

“You know that just makes her that much sexier to me.”

Steve adjusted in his seat to look at his partner. “I can’t even pretend to be surprised by this. Shouldn’t you be more worried about your...ahem...contacts?”

Javier gave him a devilish grin. “Just introduce us. Properly, this time. Not just in passing like you did.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’re going to have to ask Connie for that. I refuse to get involved.”

Javier let out an exasperated sigh and flicked some of his ashes out of the window. “I’ll just do it myself.”

Steve knew that Javier was a persistent bastard, especially when he set his mind to something. Had this been ten years ago, he might have actually considered setting the two of them up. She was his type, and fiery enough to keep Javier on his toes. But now? He’d known both her and Michael for years. He knew how in love they were, and how she would do anything to make him happy. Javier would only make her life more complicated right now, and he didn’t want to put her through any more shit. “Peña, I seriously suggest you leave her alone. Her life fell apart only a few months ago. Connie said she broke down more than once unpacking her things. She’s not going to just jump into bed with you after the one person she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with broke her heart. Hell, I doubt she’s ever going to trust anyone ever again. They were together for eight years before he popped the question. You can’t forget someone like that.”

Javier took a minute to think on what Steve said. It wasn’t too long ago when he broke his own bride’s trust, leaving her at the altar, embarrassed and alone. Several months after things cooled down from the incident, he asked his father about Lorraine. She was distraught. After all, they were together for almost as long, if not longer than Y/N and her fiancé. He never knew if she found someone and moved on with her life. He couldn’t bring himself to digging into her, for fear of her finding out. He had done enough damage. It was then that he understood the pain Y/N harbored. “Fine, you fucking hillbilly. You’ve made your point. I don’t want to cause her anymore pain.”

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fresh Start - Prologue

Ethan x MC

Summary: After going through her own personal trauma, Dr. Naomi Valentine packs up and sets her sights on Boston. But a new job in a new city comes with its own set of challenges and drama.

A/N: I honestly have no idea why this plot popped into my head, but where we are. Part of this chapter borrows from Ethan and MC’s very first encounter in chapter 1, with some very minor tweaks.

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And enjoy!

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @mvalentine @nooruleman 

~v~

Don’t get married at 19, they said. Don’t spend the best years of your life tied down to someone else, they said. This will be the biggest mistake of your life, they said.

They were all right.

If you would’ve told Naomi that her husband of 9 years was going to cheat on her with his receptionist and knock her up, she would’ve laughed. But fate laughed harder.

She’s Naomi freaking Valentine – thank God she never changed her last name. She’s brilliant, she’s an attending at one of the best hospitals in Washington D.C, and she comes from one of the most prominent families in this city, but none of that even matters. Because it’s Friday night and she’s currently at home, watching trashy television, crying into her couch cushion.

At first there was the unbridled rage that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Leading up to the divorce, she felt like she was always on the brink of exploding. She wanted to kill her husband, his stupid mistress, his slimy divorce attorney, and anyone else who dared cross her path.

But now that the divorce papers are signed, now that all of the air has been deflated from her, all she feels is overwhelming sadness.

Divorce sucks. It’s a pretty well known fact, but everyone else feeling the same way doesn’t negate her feelings. She’d rather get split down the middle and turned inside out than ever go through something like this ever again. She’s strong, but she’s not strong enough to endure this type of battle more than once.

She’s too wrapped up in her own feelings, she doesn’t notice the front door of her condo opening and closing. But the sound of heels clinking against her wood floors is enough to pull her out of her own thoughts.

“You weren’t answering my calls, darling.”

The vivacious voice of Dorinda Valentine booms throughout the condo. Naomi looks up and sees her mother standing a few feet away. She has Tupperware in her hands.

“Yeah, I turned my phone off.”

“I figured.”

“What’s in the Tupperware, mama?”

“I made you some chicken stir fry. I think it’s safe to assume you haven’t eaten anything today.”

It’s a correct assumption. On any other day, Naomi would devour anything her mother put in front of her face, but now, the thought of food makes her stomach turn.

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re a doctor, Naomi, you know better than anyone that you should be eating.” Dorinda stares at the tall bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “And just because vodka is made from potatoes, it still doesn’t count.”

Naomi doesn’t respond. She just turns her head and burrows further into the couch.

Dorinda stands there for a few moments, observing her daughter. It’s a depressing sight, one she isn’t used to. If she could take the pain from Naomi and somehow transfer it to herself, Dorinda would do it in a heartbeat.

“Okay.” Dorinda drops her purse to the floor and sets the containers down on the coffee table. She walks to the couch. Grabbing Naomi by the shoulder, she roughly yanks the younger woman. Naomi rolls over and drops to the ground with a thud.

“Mom!” Naomi looks at her mom with a scowl. “Why did you do that?”

“It’s been 2 weeks since you and Daniel signed the divorce papers. I have given you plenty of space and opportunity to mope around in the dark, but I think it’s time for the pity party to end.”

“2 weeks is not nearly enough time to simply get over the past 9 years.” Naomi argues as she stands up and dusts herself off. 

“I know you’re hurt–”

“No offense, but you and daddy have been married for thirty years, and last time I checked, I don’t have any half siblings conceived within that time, so you cannot fathom my hurt, so you can just skip over any platitudes that might be brewing.”

Dorinda raises an eyebrow. “You’re upset, so I’m going to ignore your wildly inappropriate and condescending tone, and give you a one time pass.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi murmurs, flopping back down on her couch. She averts her mother’s gaze because she can feel the older woman staring daggers at her. “I’m just very...out of sorts these days, like I’ve been hit by a bus and then put on a rollercoaster.”

“Now I may not understand divorce, but I can empathize with what you’re feeling.” Dorinda sits down next to Naomi.

“I know everyone thought I was crazy to marry Daniel in the first place, and I’m so sure there's no love lost on your part, but I really went into this with the best intentions. And I thought he did too.”

Dorinda runs her thumb across Naomi’s cheek, collecting a falling tear. “People suck, and life is full of crappy people who do crappy things. And I’m sorry that you had to be a victim to one of them.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sure it feels like the easiest thing in the world to curl into a ball and stay holed up in this apartment, but you are so much stronger than that. And Daniel Thompson does not deserve the right to reduce you to this. If you want to mope on this couch for the rest of your life, then you do it on your own accord, not because of him. But in my personal opinion, I think you’re too wonderful to become a piece of furniture.”

“What do you suppose I do?” Naomi challenges with a shrug. “I don’t how to do anything other than be his wife.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. But first, you’re going to take a shower, crack open a window to let some fresh air in, and then you’re going to do something that helps you vent. Rip a pillow, scream, scratch Daniel’s face out of his pictures, whatever you want. And then you and I are going to sit on this couch and have a very good cry. And I mean an all out, snotty nose, puffy eyes, sore throat type of cry.”

Getting off of this couch sounds like a feat within itself, one that Naomi doesn’t know if she has the strength or energy to do.

“That’s the first step,” Dorinda says, playing with a strand of Naomi’s hair. “That’s the hard part, but once you do that, I promise it gets easier. You just have to trust yourself and put one foot in front of the other, okay?”

A heavy silence falls on the room and Dorinda waits on bated breath for her daughter to respond. She’s never seen Naomi like this, the life completely drained out of her.

Naomi’s voice comes out small and unrecognizable, but she answers nonetheless. “Okay.”

~v~

One month passes and things finally start progressing for Naomi. She won’t say her life is back to normal, but she’s no longer glued to her couch, so her family considers it a win.

It’s a nice day, so Dorinda forces her to leave the comfort of her apartment and spend the day with her family.

“One of your father’s friends is coming over, so be nice,” Dorinda scolds, passing her daughter a handful of silverware so they can set the dinner table.

“Oh God, mom if this is some politician asking for a donation, I can’t–”

“No politicians,” Dorinda interjects. “Naveen is in Baltimore for a few days, so we invited him to have dinner with us.”

Dr. Naveen Banerji has been friends with Naomi’s dad for as long as she can remember. While Naveen was doing his residency at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Steven Valentine came in for a broken arm, and they’ve been close friends ever since, even when Naveen had to move to Boston.

Naomi adores the older man, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the best doctors in the country.

“Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Naomi asks.

Dorinda shrugs. “I wanted to see if you could leave that apartment of yours without external motivation.”

“And I did,” Naomi says. “I want a medal.”

“And I want a private island somewhere in the Caribbean.”

There’s a knock at the door that startles them out of their banter. Before either one of them can reach the door, Naomi’s dad beats them to it.

“Naveen, you old man!” Steven greets. “How are you?”

“If I’m old, you’re ancient!” Naveen shoots back with a chuckle. His eyes fall on Dorinda and Naomi, who have joined them in the foyer. “Dorinda! You’re as lovely as ever.”

“Naveen, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”

“And Naomi, I haven’t seen you since your med school graduation.” Naveen sizes her younger before hugging her. “Gosh, I can’t believe you’re so grown up now. What happened to the little 5 year old who used to quiz me on the periodic table?”

“Hi, Naveen,” Naomi greets brightly.

“It smells delicious in here. Don’t tell me you made a huge fuss over me, Dorinda.”

“What? It’s not every day we get to see you.” Dorinda takes Naveen’s coat. “Go sit down, you’re here just in time. Dinner will be out in 10 minutes, tops.”

It doesn’t even take that long, and soon the Valentine family plus Naveen are all gathered around the dining room table, passing around bowls and platters of food.

“So Naveen, I heard you got a promotion recently and you’re now the Chief of Medicine at Edenbrook.”

“Yeah, my days of practicing are over.”

“Do you like the job?” Naomi asks.

Naveen nods. “I love it. I have more free time, which is a plus. And there’s still so much to do, so it fuels the adrenaline junky in me. What about you, Dr. Valentine?” He smiles. “What’s it like being an attending?”

“Demanding,” Naomi answers.

“Any interesting cases recently?”

“No.” Naomi‘s girl scrapes across her plate as she awkwardly shuffles her food around. “I, uh...I’m on a personal leave right now. I haven’t been to the hospital in weeks.”

Naveen knows all about the nasty divorce, so he nods sympathetically and doesn’t press the subject. “You were chief resident last year, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s being modest,” Dorinda says. “She was at the top of her cohort.”

“Of course she was.” Naveen takes a sip of his drink, but his eyes are still trained on Naomi, wheels turning. “How do you like the hospital you’re working at?”

“It’s good.”

“Do you think that it’s the best fit for you? Are you being pushed to your limits? Are your superiors still checking in with you? You’re an attending now, but they should still care about your development.”

Naomi feels overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions. What is this, a job interview?

“Slow down Naveen, what’s with the interrogation?”

“What? I care about you, and I care about your potential. I just hope it’s not being wasted.”

“It’s not,” Naomi assures him.

“You know, there will always be a standing invitation for you to join the team at Edenbrook,” Naveen tells her.

A wide grin forms on Dorinda’s face and before Naomi can respond, she does. “She accepts!”

And that’s when the lightbulb turns on above Naomi’s head. She glances from Naveen to her parents. “Did you guys set this up?”

Naveen raises an eyebrow at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Did my parents ask you to come here and give me a job offer?”

“No, I’m here because I have a conference to attend in Baltimore tomorrow, so I thought I’d drop in. No one asked me to give you a job offer. You’re intelligent, you’re compassionate, you’re a good doctor, and I wouldn’t be a very smart Chief if I didn’t at least try to poach you for myself.”

“And she accepts!” Dorinda continues.

“Mom, stop it!” Naomi scolds.

“You’ll get a chance to work with me,” Naveen adds. “You’ll get a chance to work with Dr. Ethan Ramsey, my protege. We’re a level 1 trauma center, and Boston is a gorgeous city.”

The last thing Naomi needs right now is a new job in a new city, not while her life is in complete shambles. Besides, her entire life is in DC. It’s where her entire support system resides. Functioning without them sounds daunting.

“I really appreciate the offer Naveen, but that is definitely a lot to take in and consider.”

“Of course, I understand. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, nor do I expect any sort of answer.” Naveen sighs. “How much longer are you going to be off of work?”

“A few more weeks.”

“How about you come to Boston, and at least check out the hospital?” He suggests. “No strings attached, and you can stay at my lake house because I’m hardly ever there and there’s tons of space, so someone should enjoy it. At the very least, I think seeing it will at least be a fun experience and a nice vacation.”

“If I say yes to the trip, can we pause this conversation for the rest of the evening?”

Naveen nods. “I think that’s a fair exchange.”

“Then you have yourself a deal.”

Naomi relaxes and slouches slightly in her seat. When she gets home later on, she has a mission to complete: research the hell out of Boston and Edenbrook Hospital.

~v~

Boston is a beautiful city full of history, culture, and interesting attractions. Naomi appreciates the hustle and bustle of the city life, and the fact that everyone is always on the go – a vast difference from the quiet and serenity of Naveen’s lake house in Plymouth.

And Edenbrook is an entirely different beast. It is much larger than she expects, as the pictures don’t do it justice. The building is at least 7 stories tall to her naked eye, sleek and modern.

Naomi silently marvels as she watches doctors and nurses bustle around, chatting quietly amongst each other.

“Wow.” Is all she can say.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Naveen asks rhetorically, smiling at Naomi’s childlike wonder.

“This hospital is amazing,” is what she finally settles on when words finally come back to her.

“Follow me, we have an unofficial tour to go on.”

Naomi follows Naveen through the hospital. She struggles to keep up as she tries to memorize the complex layout, because this hospital is large and built like a multi-level maze. 

Naveen rattles off information and fun facts as they pass through the pediatric department, they stop to stare at the newborns in labor and delivery, all small and wriggly, and they even manage to sneak into the OR to watch Harper Emery perform a craniotomy, something Naomi compares to a religious experience.

“I can’t believe I just watched The Harper Emery perform surgery!” Naomi squeals with delight as she and Naveen step out of the gallery and leave the OR. “Please tell me that wasn’t a dream.”

“I didn’t peg you for a surgery fanatic,” Naveen teases.

Naomi scoffs. “I’m not, but I respect Dr. Emery. You don’t have to be a basketball fan to appreciate that Michael Jordan is one of the greats.”

“That’s a fair comparison.”

The two of them continue their leisurely stroll around the hospital, making their way to the internal medicine department.

“This is where you’d spend a good chunk of your time, if you wanted to work here, of course.”

“Is it a large department?” Naomi asks quietly. There are a few patients filling out paperwork ahead of their appointments and she doesn’t want to disturb them.

“It is. We have a lot of doctors here so you can spend that extra one-on-one time with your patients, and you aren’t just rushing them out the door to get to your next appointment.”

“That’s good to know.”

Naveen’s pager goes off and he checks it before sighing. “The life of a Chief is never dull. I have to go take care of something downstairs, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Do you think you can occupy yourself in the meantime?”

“Of course.” Naomi shoos him away. “Take your time.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Naomi watches as he walks away, until she can no longer see him through the crowds of people. Once he’s truly gone, she continues her slow stroll through the halls.

Edenbrook seems like an amazing hospital and a great place to work, but she’s not sure if she can see herself staying.

Can she really pack up and move more than 400 miles away from her entire family, and the only life she’s ever known? And is she the type to run away when life gets tough? What will everyone say? “Oh, poor girl gets left by her husband and had to flee the city.”

But what’s stopping you? The little voice in her head asks, and it’s technically right. She looks down at her left hand, zeroing in on the ring-less finger with a deep tan line, a very prominent reminder of what’s definitely not waiting for her back in DC. No husband, no kids, nothing but an empty and quiet condo.

When she filed for divorce, Naomi swore to herself that running off to city hall to get married would be the first and last wild and impulsive thing she’d ever do. And taking a job offer on a whim in Boston is teetering dangerously close to that “wild and reckless” category.

But she’s pulled out of her thoughts when someone gasps loudly beside her. Whipping her head around, Naomi watches as a middle aged woman falls out of her seat and collapses onto the ground.

That sends the waiting area into a frenzy as fellow patients panic and crowd around the woman like she’s some sort of zoo exhibit, and nurses try their best to assess the situation and ask for help.

“Everyone, step back!” Naomi orders, a serious expression covering her face. “I’m a doctor!”

Before Naomi can even reach the woman, another doctor rushes over, kneeling down beside her. He lifts her wrist and pressed two fingers to it. 

“Her pulse isn’t weak. She’s unresponsive.”

His face scans the crowd and Naomi inwardly gasps as she realizes that it's Ethan freaking Ramsey! In any other situation, she’d be freaking out and fan-girling over him.

He spots her and points. “You. Get in here.”

Naomi bites down on her tongue and resists the urge to get snappy with him. She’s not a puppy that can get summoned on command. But she remembers that a woman’s life is on the line and her own hang ups can wait.

“Right away, Doctor!”

With practiced ease, Ethan lifts the woman up and places her on a gurney that’s been rolled over by a nurse. Within seconds, Naomi is at his side.

“What was she coming in for?” He asks, hoping someone can answer his question. “Did she fill out a form yet?”

A nurse clears his throat before answering, “No, she had just walked in.”

That’s not the answer Ethan was hoping for and he frowns. “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this gurney.” He spares a quick glance at Naomi. “Check her B.P.”

A nurse hands Naomi a blood pressure cuff and she slips on around the woman’s arm. After pumping it a few times, she checks the numbers. They’re horrible.

“It’s plummeting. She’s hypotensive,” she explains. “We’ve gotta get fluids in her, now.”

Ethan nods, agreeing with the assessment. Another nurse sets up an I.V. while Naomi checks over the woman once more. She notices a bruise on her elbow, one that wasn’t there a minute ago, and her fingertips are turning blue.

“Doctor, look at her fingers,” Naomi says, getting Ethan’s attention. “I think it’s a sign of low oxygen saturation.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “You think or you know? We really don’t have time for the guessing game.”

“I know,” Naomi assures him, her tone coming out rougher than she intended. She’s not a fan of being second guessed, especially by someone who specifically requested her to assist.

“Good. Did you notice the bruise?” Naomi nods. “A bruise forming that quickly suggests that this woman is a hemophiliac.” Ethan slides his stethoscope from around his neck and hands it to Naomi. “Check her lungs, quickly.”

Naomi does what she’s told and takes a closer listen to her woman’s lungs. 

“Nothing on her left side, and the right side is struggling. She’s going to suffocate!”

Oh God, how did she get roped into this? This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation away from all of the stress of her life, now Naomi is watching a woman suffocate to death.

Dr. Ramsey isn’t having the same struggle as she is, as he remains calm, though everyone around them is on high alert. “We’ve got a Code Blue,” he says, his voice steady. A nurse hands him a bag mask and he starts delivering air to the woman.

Naomi watches as he does that, trying to remain calm. She closes her eyes and attempts to steady her thoughts, and figure out what’s wrong with the woman.

“Hey, either help out or leave, but I don’t need you here doing nothing,” Ethan says, interrupting her thoughts.

Naomi flinches a bit at the interruption, but she continues thinking. Low oxygen, hemophilia, deflated lungs. What could it possibly be?

As she’s going through the options, it hits her. “It’s a hemothorax!”

Ethan nods, confirming the diagnosis. “A blood vessel ruptured…”

“...and it’s blocking her lungs from expanding any further,” Naomi finishes. She looks around. They’re in a crowded waiting room, not the OR. “But we can’t do anything here!”

“There’s no time to get her to the OR, we’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain her pleural cavity.” Ethan points to a nurse. “You! I need a chest tube and a scalpel, now!”

A nurse rushes over immediately, placing the items in Naomi’s hands. She barely has time to register the fact that she’s about to perform an emergency procedure on an unconscious woman, and she’s not even supposed to be in doctor-mode today before Ethan is lifting the woman’s shirt 

“We’re gonna need a local anesthetic to–”

“We don’t have time for any of that!” Ethan snaps. “Do it now, or she’s going to die, and it’ll be on you!”

Naomi gulps and wills herself to calm down. Her pulse is racing and she can hear her heart beating in her ears.

But she breathes deeply. She doesn’t have time to panic, not when there’s a life on the line. She steadies her hand, and makes the incision at the woman’s rib cage.

“There you go, nice and easy,” Dr. Ramsey coaches. “Now insert the tube.”

Naomi insets the chest tube into the incision. Slowly but surely, the blood starts draining out of the woman’s chest, and she gasps, breathing again.

The woman, now conscious again, mutters something unintelligible, but she’s alive and that’s all that matters.

“We...we did it.”

The older physician ignores Naomi, instead turning to the nurse that’s been helping them. “She’s stable. Get her into surgery, but she’s stable.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

The nurses take the patient away, while the crowd applauds them for the heroic save. Eventually the crowd disperses, everyone going back to what they were previously doing.

The relief that floods through Naomi’s body is all-consuming. She hasn’t felt this euphoric in a long time. And to experience it with someone as amazing as Doctor Ramsey only elevates things. Doctors can only dream of working with him, and she actually got to do it, even if it was on a whim.

Maybe working at Edenbrook isn’t such a bad idea.

She turns back to Ethan, a giddy grin wide across her face. “Doctor...that was…amazing!”

“You’re right. It’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed.”

That takes the wind out of her sails almost instantly. “Wait, what?”

“Your examination was slow and superficial. And your scalpel technique?” He scoffs in derision. “Amateur at best.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Naomi asks. “I’m sorry, I’m not at work today, this entire situation threw me for a loop, and a waiting room definitely isn’t a proper setting to do any of what we just did. And if I’m so amateur at my job, what prevented you from stepping in at any time since you’re so much better than I am? Because if my recollection is correct, I did most of the work, while you stood there like some glorified overseer.”

“You’re the one who yelled out that you were a doctor. I wanted to test your mettle.”

Her blood boils in her veins at his words. So this is why they say never meet your heroes. Because they turn out to be righteous assholes.

“My mettle is just fine. You say it’s a miracle I didn’t kill her, I say she’s alive because of me. And another thing, I don’t need you testing my mettle when a patient’s life is on the line. Next time, save the little power trip.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at her words. No doctor in their right mind has ever spoken to him like this. He stares down at the woman, almost a foot shorter than him, and she’s staring up at him with just as much intensity. “Now I don’t know who you think–”

“Naomi, there you are!”

Ethan’s tirade is cut short by the sound of Naveen’s voice echoing through the halls. He looks up to see his mentor and boss headed towards them.

“I’m sorry that took longer than expected Naomi,” Naveen says once he’s finally close enough. He looks her up and down. Her blouse and pants are ruined, covered in that woman’s blood. “Hue hat happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Naveen,” Naomi assures him. “It’s not mine. And it’s a very long story, one I’ll tell you once I’m out of these clothes.”

“Very well.”

Ethan watches as the two of them casually converse. He’s known Naveen for well over a decade, and not once has he seen or heard of this woman. How does Naveen know her well enough for them to be on a first name basis?

“You two know each other?” He asks, interrupting their conversation.

Naveen nods. “Oh yes, we go way back. Ethan, this is Dr. Naomi Valentine. Naomi, this is Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

Naomi gives Ethan a tight smile. She’s no longer in the mood for pleasantries. “Charmed.”

“Likewise, Dr. Valentine.”

“Naomi here is from DC, and I’m trying to convince her to come to Edenbrook,” Naveen explains. He knows better than anyone how much Naomi admires Ethan’s work. Maybe he’ll be able to help him convince the younger woman to accept a job at Edenbrook. “It’s so perfect that you guys met and became acquainted, because I actually think she’d be an excellent addition to the diagnostics team.”

Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at that statement. “What?”

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Fallout Of Darkness -- A Half-Decent Sum-Up Of The Pre-War Timeline

If you follow my RP tumblr, @thevalicemultiverse, you may have seen this before (barring a few edits I made just now) -- I wrote this up as background for putting Fallout of Darkness into play over there as an RP verse. It’s as good a write-up as I currently have for Alice and particularly Victor’s lives before the bombs fell, so might as well bring it over here for more general consumption! Enjoy!

---

Alice Liddell shares most of her backstory with her Londerland Bloodlines counterpart: she’s born in 1984, loses her family to Bumby’s obsession with her sister, hallucinates her way through the horrors of Rutledge and Houndsditch with Wonderland serving as a horrific psychological dreamscape for her to get her sanity back under her, realizes Bumby’s behind all her pain and is a child trafficker, kills him, moves to Los Angeles for a fresh start, and gets illegally Embraced by Malkavian Fish and ends up errand girl to Prince Sebastian LaCroix. In this reality, though, she lives through something much closer to the standard Bloodlines plot (albeit filtered through the “all tech is at least kinda 50s sci-fi” lens of Fallout) – including saving Heather Poe instead of Victor, and finding nothing in the Giovanni basement except regular old zombies. She pushes through all the bullshit of Camarilla vs Anarchs vs Kuei-Jin vs Sabbat, convinces Heather to leave when it transpires she’s being really badly affected by Alice’s Malkavian blood (to the point of luring a guy to the haven and then locking him in the bathroom for Alice to eat), and eventually chooses the independent life, killing Ming-Xiao, letting LaCroix blow up with his tower, and flipping off the Anarchs when they try to recruit her. She flees Los Angeles completely shortly thereafter, and spends most of the rest of the next seventy-odd years on the move around America, avoiding possible reprisals from the Camarilla and watching the world go to hell in a handbasket with resources running out and the war for the last great oil pipeline. She finds shelter in Boston in October 2077, and is sleeping away the day in a presumed-safe building when the bombs drop. While she’s luckily buried in a sunlight-blocking pile of rubble, she’s also staked by a falling beam. . .and remains so for the next two centuries. . .

Victor Van Dort, on the other hand, is born in 2050, to Nell and William Van Dort of Burtonsville. William is in the fish business, and moves his family to the USA when Victor is still just a baby to seek new opportunities. What he and his wife and son get is the New Plague, forcing them to stay in Massachusetts due to quarantine measures. Despite this, William still manages to become a fish cannery mogul, making millions off his automated factories. Victor himself grows up almost entirely confined to the house and gardens, cared for and taught by a variety of robots until he was fourteen and it was deemed safe enough for him to attend a normal high school. The gardens taught him to love nature, but his caretakers taught him to love science and technology – while still a hobbyist lepidopterist, Victor is much more a tinkerer and technician in this world. Having to help fix the family’s Protectron driver, Mayhew, when he falls apart almost right in front of you will do that to a boy! He’s just more comfortable with machines than people – a fact that doesn’t make him popular in school.

In his senior year of high school, Victor is pushed to date Victoria Everglot by his parents, seeing her family’s noble history (some relative way-back-when in England was a Grand Duke) as a good way to improve their own social standings. Victor goes along with it after realizing he likes Victoria herself a fair bit, and the two soon become boyfriend and girlfriend. A few months into the relationship, though, Victor comes across a gravely-injured Emily Merrimack-Cartwell in the park, the victim of an elopement that turned out to be an excuse to rob and murder her. Victor is able to rush her to the hospital in time, and the two become friends in the aftermath. Victoria, noticing that they seem to have a growing attraction, decides she doesn’t want Victor to feel obligated to continue dating her if he’d prefer to be with Emily and actually encourages them to go to prom together. They agree after confirming she’s okay with that, and that she won’t be missing out herself. They start out having a good time together, but midway through Victoria goes to the ladies’ room and doesn’t return. Victor and Emily, concerned, go looking for her and find her being menaced by none other than Emily’s ex Barkis – apparently not satisfied with what he got off Emily, he’s now trying to rob and possibly kidnap Victoria. Victor and Emily take him down and get him carted off to jail, to Victoria’s eternal gratitude. The experience bind them all together as a trio, and – coupled with the discovery that Victoria and Emily feel much the same about each other as they do about Victor – they decide to just all date each other and see where the chips fall.

And then the draft comes and Victor is yanked into military service. He ends up a combat engineer in the Engineer Corps, and is assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 108th Infantry Regiment, aka “Fox Company.” While he makes some friends in fellow soldiers Nate Howard and Sam “Bonejangles” Thatcher, Victor loathes his experiences as a soldier, especially as his unit is protecting the Alaskan Pipeline on the Alaska border and watching as the US annexes Canada. Things come to a head when his commanding officer tries to get him to shoot two Canadian kids who were throwing rocks at their camp – an enraged Victor shoots the officer instead, then gets wrapped up in a sudden enemy attack on said camp (a small company of Chinese infiltrators in stealth suits -- one accidentally decloaked in his surprise over Victor killing his target), spiriting the kids to safety before managing to save the rest of his company via fast fixing of their defenses and rigging up some explosive power armor. The chaos makes it impossible for the upper brass to know for sure Victor killed the officer (though they’re deeply suspicious), and the fact that everyone else is calling him a hero (plus his father being willing to pay good money for his son’s safe return) leads to him going home for good. Having married Victoria while on leave earlier, they take in Emily as a “live-in friend and help around the house” (wink wink), and the three move to the little community of Sanctuary Hills. They have a good couple of years there, culminating in the birth of Victor and Victoria’s son Shaun. Victor, despite his worries about the resource shortages, the war with China, and his own government possibly looking for a way to silence him whenever he makes his opinions about same known, starts thinking that maybe things can be all right for him and his family at least. . .

And then, on October 23rd, 2077, the bombs hit. Victor and his family get to Vault 111 just in time, and are processed and cyronically frozen as per the experiment. However, things go bad with a security staff revolt, and the frozen family is left easy pickings for some mysterious scientists to come in, shoot Victoria, and kidnap Shaun right before Victor’s horrified eyes. When he is revived again, he finds that the life support failed for the rest of the residents (including Emily, whose pod partially thawed her and left her half-rotted), leaving him the sole survivor – apart from his missing son. He escapes the vault and returns to what’s left of Sanctuary Hills, vowing to find Shaun.

Finding Shaun turns out to be more difficult than imagined – the world above is a dangerous place, and Victor is ill-prepared to deal with it. Fortunately, he makes some friends right off the bat – his old Mr. Handy Codsworth; a German Shepherd waiting for him at the local Red Rocket, who is later revealed to be named Dogmeat; and Preston Garvey, last of the Commonwealth Minutemen, whom Victor saves from raiders at the Museum of Freedom in Concord while looking for other signs of life. Victor welcomes Preston and his settlers to live in Sanctuary, and joins up with Preston’s efforts to revive the Minutemen and make it a force for good in the wasteland (being named General by Preston in the process, a move that baffles him and his 2 Charisma). Helping settlers leads him down to Diamond City, where he was told by slightly-psychic Mama Murphy he could find some help. He befriends reporter Piper Wright there, and ends up getting her help to find her missing friend detective Nick Valentine when it transpires he – and with him, Victor’s best hope for finding Shaun – has vanished.

And during their adventures to track down Nick’s precise location, they come across a raider base, are attacked by a raider who yanks a bloody stick out of a pile of rubble – and are introduced to Alice when she bursts from the rubble and sucks the guy dry. Alice hastily informs them that she’s not a threat to them (she was just thirsty after, you know, two centuries of being staked), and they end up trusting her enough to take down the rest of the raiders with her. Victor does his best to explain what’s happened to her, and she does her best to explain her vampiric nature to him. Feeling bad for her, and like he’s finally found a kindred spirit in all this (uh, no pun intended), he invites her to travel with him, switching to a night time schedule to accommodate her. . .at least, until they go to a certain quarry mined by Dunwich Borers to clear out the raiders there. . .

[khoicesbyk]

The Royal Romance.

Second Chance  Romance. 

A/N: I’ve decided to go into my own little TRR/TRH world and create an AU. This will be fun! So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Dawkins (MC) | All Characters: names (except MC) and some plot dialogue are property of Pixelberry. | Current Word Count: 5,430 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Chapter 1.) Return

Shanelle sat at the bottom of the grand staircase of the Beaumont estate trying to wrap her head around all that had happened since the coronation.

Marquise the man she’s madly in love with; went from Crown Prince to King of Cordonia right before her eyes. Then her world came crashing down; as she was framed. The utter humiliation cost her the one thing she wanted more than anything; it cost her him. Someone set her up and she had no idea who it was. And she never got the chance to find out.

Instead she was sent back to D.C. with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. She knew she never had a chance against the ladies of the court; but her stubborn determination got her into the top 3 women for him to choose. And she just knew he’d choose her; until those photos of her and Tariq were shown. And her world came crumbling down.

When she got home she had to deal with her disappointed stepmom and VERY pissed off father. They love her dearly and never want to see her hurt. But; her father’s furious that she up and left on a whim over a man she barely knew. So for the past 2 years; she’s been under lockdown. While she tries to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and shattered life. Her daddy was gracious enough to give her the receptionist job at his surgical practice. That way he could keep an eye on her.

Life for her went back to being relatively normal and quiet. Until one Sunday morning as her daddy got ready to preach; two very familiar faces showed up. After church announcements were read; visitors were encouraged to stand and give their home church and affiliation. That’s when Maxwell and Bertrand stood up from their pews. “Good Sunday morning to you all! My name is Bertrand Beaumont; and I am the Duke of Ramsford and this is my brother Lord Maxwell Beaumont. We are delighted to be here and thank you for your hospitality!”, he explained to the congregation. “Yeah! It’s great to be here! We’re actually here to see Shanelle. But I don’t see her though. Ohhh! There she is! She’s in the choir loft Bertrand. Hiiii Shanelle!”, Maxwell quipped as he waved at her.

She was mortified and her daddy was pissed. When he turned back to face her; he mouthed the words, “Pastor’s Study! Now!” when he turned back to the congregation; his face was neutral. “Thank you Mr. Beaumont! I’m sure you, your brother and my daughter have much to discuss.” With a deep breath; she collected Maxwell and Bertrand and quickly ushered them into her dad’s office.

Once inside; she just had to hear what both of them had to say. “Maxwell as happy as I am to see you and Bertrand; WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”, she asked him while trying to keep her voice down. “A Happy Reunion? We missed you.”, he replies. “It’s been 2 years!”, she said to him. “We were hoping that you could lead us to Jesus?”, he said sheepishly. “If I didn’t love you so much; I’d hit you with a bible! Also; you didn’t answer my question.”, she told him. “It’s Marquise. He needs you.”, he said to her. “No he doesn’t. Besides he’s married. The wedding was in all the papers.”, she told him.

That’s when Bertrand spoke up. “About that. Maxwell is right. He’s miserable. Cordonia is in need of an heir. Madeleine doesn’t want children, not that he’d touch her anyway...They are in the last stages of getting a divorce.”, he said to Shanelle. “You’re joking, right? They’re getting a divorce?”, she asks Bertrand. “No jokes. Technically since they haven’t consummated the marriage, it will be annulled.”, he replied.

That statement took her breath away.

“He just doesn’t want anyone, if it’s not you.”, Maxwell told her. “This is insane. If he wants nothing to do with her; why did he marry her?”, she asks. “He felt like he had no choice.”, Maxwell replies. “Right now, Cordonia looks weak. If we don’t have an heir soon there will be an uprising.”, Bertrand explains. “So what are you asking me?”, she asks them both. After a glance between them; Maxwell spoke, “Come back to Cordonia and be the Queen he needs. We all need you.” “Come back? After all this time? After everything that happened? I can’t do that. I can’t go through the hell again. We still don’t know who set me up. I can’t. I just can’t.”, she told him. “Marquise will make everything right. We just need you to give him a chance.”, he said to her. “Maxwell I don’t think you understand what that scandal did to me. The humiliation alone has left me scarred and scared to even consider love ever being a possibility in my life.”, she told him.

That’s when Bertrand laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “1 Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” “I’m not saying to ignore your pain. But if you come back it could be a chance to heal. Just tell me you’ll think about it.”, Maxwell said to her. “If I decide to do this again; how do you know we won’t wind up right back where we started?”, she asks.

“It’s because I know in my heart that he’s been miserable since the moment you left. I also believe that the moment he lays eyes on you the part of him that died will be resurrected. He will know what it feels like to breathe again. He won’t let go of that feeling...he can’t.”, Maxwell explains. “You really believe that he’s still in love with me after being apart for 2 years?”, she asks. “I am telling you he has been holding his breath for 2 years. He is a shell of himself without you. Just the mention of your name; brings a twinkle to his eyes that we haven’t seen in years.”, he says to her.

She sighs. The thought of him being miserable without her was starting to get to her. “Oh my God. My life finally gets back to some form of normalcy; and here you two come back to flip it upside down again.”, she says with a small chuckle. “What’s life without a little plot twist?”, he teased. “Maxwell Beaumont! You’re impossible! And I mean that in the most loving way possible.”, she replies. “Right back at you, babe.”, he says to her. “Lady Shanelle. We need your answer. It’s imperative.”, Bertrand says to her. After taking a deep breath and pacing for a bit; she says to them, “I can’t believe I’m about to do this…again but gentlemen…let’s go get my king.”

Both were ecstatic. “Wonderful!”, Bertrand said to her. “Woo! My girl is back!”, Maxwell quipped. “Not so fast you two! We still have one more hurdle.”, she said to them. “What?”, they ask. “My dad. He’s not gonna let me go.”, she replies. “Let me handle that! No one can resist the Maxwell Beaumont charm!”, Maxwell said to her. “Good luck with that!”, she told him.

After service was over; her father and stepmom joined them in the study. That’s when they laid out the plan for Shanelle to return. But her daddy wasn’t trying to hear it. “No! Absolutely not! You are NOT going back! Not after everything that happened!”, he growled. “Daddy—“, she started to say before he cut her off, “Shanelle, don’t you dare! I am not about to watch you get your heart broken by that man again!” “Daddy it wasn’t his fault!”, she told him. “It might as well have been his fault! Do you think I want to deal with vultures in the media at my door again? Do you think I want them crowding my office again?!”, he asked with his voice raised. “Rodney…calm down!”, her stepmom Jackie told him. After taking a deep breath; he spoke. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want to see my baby girl get hurt again. After watching what that jackass Damon did to you; and now this so called king? No! I’m not going witness you get hurt all over again!” “Daddy please…”, she begged. “No! I’m not having this conversation with you.”, he told her.

Shanelle looked to her stepmom for help. That’s when Jackie sighed and said, “Rodney you know that you can’t stop her.” He looked at her like she had lost all sense. “Jackie! Who’s side are you on?”, he asks his wife. “As many times as RJ has come home from a failed relationship; just for him to jump into another one. You can’t be mad at our oldest daughter.”, she tells him. “But Jackie; Shanelle is—“, he started to say, “a grown woman. Just like Shana is a grown woman. Shana packed up herself and R3 just to move all the way to Seattle for her wife. And let’s not forget; RJ lives in Boston with his what, 3rd girlfriend in the last 9 months?”

He pouted. “My point to you Rodney is this: if you didn’t have anything to say to our two younger children you have nothing to say to our oldest child. She loves him. She wants to be with him. We can’t stop her. We can only love and support her. As we should.”, she told him. He looked at his wife then to his oldest daughter and says, “okay! Okay! I know when I’m beaten. Just promise me that you’re not making a mistake.” Shanelle smiles softly at her dad and says, “I promise daddy. I know what I’m doing.”

Rodney stood up from his desk then walked over to her and hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, baby…I just…I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”, he told her as he hugged her. “I know daddy. I’ll be fine; I promise you that.”, she told him. When he looked at her; he smiled softly. “I guess you should go home and get packed.”, he told her. She kissed her dad on the cheek and she said, “I love you daddy!” He kissed her on her forehead and replied, “I love you too, baby.”

He then looked to Maxwell and Bertrand and said, “you two had better take good care of my daughter! Do NOT make me come all the way over there! Do I make myself clear?” Both nodded their heads emphatically. “Good! Now go get her packed up; before I change my mind.”, he told them. With that Shanelle, Maxwell and Bertrand were off to get her packed; then they made their way back to Cordonia.

As she sat at the bottom of the steps; she couldn’t believe she was back in the country she was humiliated in. “I’m here. I’m actually here.”, she said to herself. Or so she thought. “Yep! You’re here! And I’m so happy to have you back!”, Maxwell said as he sat next to her. “Thanks Maxwell. I’m just ready to get my man back.”, she told him. “I know. But you know that it won’t be easy, right?”, he asks. “I know. Everyone will be looking at me and wondering why I’ve come back after all these years.”, she replies. “That and there will be more women vying for Marquise and his hand.”, he told her.

“Greeeeeeat! Just what I wanted: another social season!”, she said sarcastically. “But at least it won’t be like your first one.”, he said to her. “It won’t be?”, she asks. “No thankfully. You won’t have to go through all the pettiness and hosting. Instead we’re going global.”, he told her. “I don’t get it.”, she said to him. “You are one of 7 women vying for Marquise. One from each continent except Antarctica. But the good thing is; we know that they don’t stand a chance. And while you’re vying; we’ll work on finding Tariq and clearing your name.”, he told her. “Are you sure that we can?”, she asks. “Yup because you’ve got me! Ohh! And them too!”, he said as he pointed to her left.

When she turned her head; in walked Drake and Hana. “Hana! Drake! You’re here!”, she said as she ran up to hug them both. “It’s good to see you too! I’ve missed you!”, Hana told her. “I’ve missed you too! I’ve even missed you, marshmallow.”, she said as she hugged Drake. “Missed you too Dawkins. It’s been way too long.”, he said to her. “Wait! Shouldn’t you be with Marquise?”, she asked him. “He asked me to help you. And here I am.”, he replies. “When was the last time you saw him?”, she asks.

“The day Maxwell and Bertrand left to get you. We’ve had to keep our distance between each other for appearances sake. And well…I might have a girlfriend.”, he replied. “Congrats! I’m happy for you.”, she told him. “And what about you, missy? What has the incredible Hana Lee been up to?”, she asked Hana. “I returned to Shanghai but I was wasn’t happy; so I came back to Cordonia last year, and I’ve been working with Marquise as one of his advisors.”, she told her. “Good. I’m happy to have you both here.”, she said to them. “What about me?”, Maxwell asks. “Yes you too; goof.”, she said as he walked up. “It’s good to have all of you by my side. I love you all so much! Now; let’s go get ready! I have a king to win!”, she told them.

After getting dressed; the group was off to the palace for the Freedom Ball and dinner. It was Marquise’s public appearance since his divorce was finalized a few days before. As each member of court was announced Shanelle was starting to feel nervous about seeing him and the rest of court. “Introducing Lord Maxwell Beaumont, Sir Drake Walker, Lady Hana Lee and Lady Shanelle Dawkins.”, the herald said as the group entered the room together.

The room went silent as all eyes landed on Shanelle. She held onto Maxwell’s arm for dear life. “How you doing?”, he whispered to her. “Every single eye is on me. How am I supposed to be doing?”, she replies. “Just take a deep breath and smile.”, he told her. She did exactly that. “There’s a silver lining in all eyes being on you.”, he said to her. “What’s that?”, she asks. “His eyes are on you as well as everyone else’s”, Maxwell said as he looked towards Marquise.

His eyes never left her. He watched as they walked in. He stood next to his parents and his brother as the court filed in. “Good evening everyone! It is good to see you all! Although the circumstances aren’t ideal it is great to be surrounded by all of you. I do hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight.”, he said to everyone in attendance.

After dinner was served guests mingled and danced; but Shanelle had butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to run and hide; and at the same time she wanted to be alone with him. As the ball was in full swing Shanelle spent most of it dodging questions about the scandalous photos and her whereabouts for the last two years. When the evening came to a close she was exhausted and ready to crash. Thankfully she and the others were staying at the palace and she would meet the other women vying for Marquise the next day at tea.

When she got to her room; she all but collapsed onto her bed. Just as she had dozed off there was a knock at her door. “Go away!”, she groaned. When she went and opened the door; Bastien and two of the King’s Guards were standing on the other side. “Oh no! Not again…”, she said out loud. “Lady Shanelle his majesty requests your presence. Please follow us.”, Bastien said to her. “O-okay! Let me put some shoes on.”, she replied. After throwing her heels back on she followed them to a secluded courtyard within the palace. When she entered the courtyard; there he stood. He had a glass in his hand that she figured was either whiskey, rum or scotch. “Your Majesty, Lady Shanelle as requested.”, Bastien announced. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”, he told him. “Yes your majesty. Lady Shanelle.”, he said as they made their leave.

She watched them leave then turned back to face him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mouth was dry and the butterflies in her stomach went into overdrive. After finishing his drink Marquise spoke, “you look beautiful in that gown. Aquamarine is a beautiful color on you. I’m glad I had that dress made specifically for you.” Her eyes went wide. “You did what?”, she asked him in a voice just above a whisper. “I wanted you to stand out and I knew this gown would do just that.”, he told her. “Thank you.”, she told him. “You must hate me not that I blame you. You have to understand that I have regretted my decision every single day.”, he said to her. “I don’t hate you, Marquise.”, she told him. “I’ll take that as a small victory.”, he told her. “I just want to know why. I thought you loved me.”, she said to him. “I do. God knows I do. Shanelle I love you with every bit of my heart and soul.”, he told her. She screwed her eyes shut to keep tears from falling. “Then why choose her over me?”, she asked while trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Shanelle…look at me.”, he said as he tilted her chin up.

When she opened her eyes; he saw the pain she had been in; over the last two years.

“I want you to hear me when I say I had no choice, Shanelle. I wanted to pick you. I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to make you my wife and queen. For two years I have been miserable. I didn’t want to go through with the marriage to her but again I had no choice. In order to ascend to the throne I had to marry her. It was the worst mistake of my life. For two years all I’ve done is longed for you. I’ve craved you. I’ve needed you. And God knows I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to touch you. I’ve wanted to see you. I’ve wanted to taste you. You are the love of my life, Shanelle. There is no other woman for me but you. There’s only you. I only want you. Which is why when I filed for divorce I told Maxwell that you had to come back. I had to have you again. I had to feel my American Beauty in my arms again.”, he explained as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

She loved the strength of his arms, the smell of his cologne and his pretty brown eyes. “You know your other suitors would say that you aren’t being fair to them, your majesty.”, she told him. “I don’t care about being fair to them. All I care about right now is messing up your lipstick.”, he told her before he claimed her lips in his. She melted in his embrace. His tongue dueled with hers as their kiss intensified and deepened.

When their kiss finally ended; she was dizzy and thankful to have his arms around her. “Damn I’ve missed that.”, he whispered against her lips. He kissed her again; wanting to savor the taste of her lips. “I just kissed the softest lips that God has ever made.”, he sang to her. She instantly knew the song. “And I am so in love with the girl who holds the lips he gave.”, she sang back to him. “You know your songs.”, he told her. “I know my artists. And for the record I love Eric Roberson. I saw him in concert last month.”, she said to him. “I really don’t want to stop.”, he said to her. “Then don’t. Don’t stop kissing me. Don’t stop touching me.”, she whispered to him. “Shanelle…”, he said before crashing his lips into hers. When this shared kiss ended he was incensed by her. “I want you now!”, he growled. “I belong to you, my king. Take me as you see fit.”, she told him.

“Come with me.”, he told her as he led her to another door to the courtyard. After he turned on the lights she realized that they were in a bedroom. “This bedroom is beautiful.”, she said as she took in her surroundings. “Thank you. It’s one of the many spare bedrooms. I would bring you to my personal chambers but I don’t want to wait.”, he told her. “A bedroom is a bedroom to me. Although; you do owe me a future tour of yours.”, she told him. “Comme tu veux, mon amour.”, he spoke to her. “That’s French isn’t it?”, she asks. He nodded his head yes. “Thought so…I don’t speak French.”, she told him. “It means as you wish, my love.”, he said to her. She smirked at him. He placed a featherlight kiss on the inside of her right wrist. He continued kissing up her arm; sending chills running through her. “Do you like that, my love?”, he asks. “More than you know, Marquise.”, she replied. “Good. I have to make up for lost time, my love.”, he told her before he continued.

When he got to her neck; she shivered in his arms. “You’re shivering, my love.”, he whispered in her ear. “Your fault…your majesty.”, she whispered to him. “You dare accuse your future king of bringing you pleasure?”, he asks. “Yes your majesty I do.”, she told him. “Well then; it looks like I have work to do.”, he told her before kissing her again. As they kissed his left hand searched and found the zipper in the back of her gown; while his right tangled in her hair.

As his left hand slowly pulled the zipper down; his right pulled her head back gently so he could run his tongue along her neck. “Yesssssssssss…she moaned softly. She was a puddle in his arms. He nipped at her chin before saying, “I missed hearing your voice, my love. I missed hearing you moan.”, he told her. “Keep that up and I’ll be doing more than that, my king.”, she told him.

He smirked before he went back to sucking on her neck. When her gown pooled at her feet Marquise stopped long enough to marvel at her in her red lingerie. “Mon amour, tu es absolument belle.”, he told her. “You really love speaking French, don’t you?”, she asks with a giggle. “Second favorite language.”, he said with a small shrug. She smiled at him and asked him, “although you look fine as wine in that suit; it’s blocking my view so can we lose it now?” She pulled him into a searing kiss as she helped him out of his suit.

She loved running her hands up his body. His abs were a work of art to her. His shoulders are broad and beautiful. And when her hands went lower to his pants; she felt his bulging center. Which caused him to groan against her neck. “Mmmm! Someone’s happy to see me!”, she said to him. “You’ve no idea.”, he told her. “You look a little restrained, my king. Let me alleviate that for you.”, she told him with a coy smile.

He drew a sharp breath as she slid his pants and underwear down. She drooled over a very hard, very naked Marquise. “Ohhh sweet Jesus!”, she told him. “See something you like, my love?”, he asks with a wink. "Indeed I do!”, she says before biting her bottom lip. “Now why am I naked but you aren’t?”, he asks as he pulls her into his arms. “You don’t like me in lingerie?”, she replies with a question of her own. “I love it. But I think you’d look better out of it.”, he told her before picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

After laying her down on the bed; he slid on top of her and immediately went to work removing her bra and panties. He kissed her right shoulder as he slid her bra strap down and did the same to her left shoulder. With her straps down he focused on the cups.

He kissed over each cup; wanting to get to her breasts inside them. That’s when guided his hands to the clasp in the front. “Oooh! Sexy!”, he told her. “Thank you, your majesty. I was hoping you’d like it.”, she told him. “Ohhh I do! Now if you’ll excuse me, my love…”, he told her before diving straight for them. She was in heaven while he was laser focused on pleasing her breasts. Kissing, nipping, licking, sucking on and tweaking her nipples. He loved hearing her moan and feeling her body move underneath his hard body.

His mouth traveled downward to her midsection. He kissed along her ribs and stomach eliciting different sounds for her. “Don’t stop Marquise! Please don’t stop!”, she begged. He dragged his tongue along the top of her panties. “Taste me…”, she moaned. That was all he needed to hear from her. He used his teeth to pull her panties down. The heat between her thighs blazed for him. He kissed and massaged her thighs open. “Bonjour mon petit amour.”, he whispered against her thigh as he got closer to her center.

He watched her bite her bottom lip. He slid the fingers of his right hand; along her inner most folds, slowly coaxing her open for him. “Ohhh God!”, she moaned. She was wet for him; just what he wanted. “Time to eat!”, he said before sliding his tongue inside her. It caused her back to arch while she cried out from the pleasure. He repeatedly dragged his tongue from her clit to her entrance. It was enough to make her breathing stagger.

“God! Yesssssssssss!”, she moaned. She was on fire because of his mouth. She was so focused on him eating her out; that she didn’t feel him slip two fingers inside her at first. His fingers were just as magical as his mouth. He deliberately was driving her crazy. Soon her hips started to roll; as the speed of his fingers increased. She was trying to hang on for dear life as he gave her the most intense pleasure she had ever felt. Her orgasm was twisted around her blooming internal heat. Both were threatening to overtake her. “Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! I’m so close! I…Ohhh God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”, she shouted.

He gave her exactly what she asked for. It took one final swirl of his tongue to snap her orgasm; and to make her internal heat burn her alive. “YES! YES! YES!”, she screamed as she rode wave after wave of her crashing orgasm. When he let her go; she was shaking. “You’re shaking, my love.”, he said with a grin. “Gee your majesty; I wonder why.”, she replied as she tried to catch her breath. She brought his lips to hers; and tasted herself on his lips.

He pinned her hands above her head as their kiss intensified. When it broke; she was desperate for him and he craved her. “I want to devour you, my love.”, he whispered against her lips. “Thank God for birth control.”, she told him with a wink. “For now anyway. Because soon my love; you will be my wife, my queen and the mother of my future child.”, he told her. “I like the sound of that.”, she whispered softly. “Good. You’ve earned it, mon amour.”, he told her before he kissed her again. Their tongues tangled as they kissed. He wanted her and was determined; not to let her leave until he had her. “Take me, Marquise…”, she begged. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”, he told her.

He rolled onto his back and had her straddle him. With his left hand planted firmly on her ass and his right anchored to her right hip; he was in heaven. “God you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, my love.”, he told her. “Mmmmmm…Keep talking.”, she said to him. “Why talk when I can show?”, he asks her. She smirks at him and says against his lips, “show me, my king.”

He took her lips in his and savored her taste; while his hands kneaded her ass. In that moment; his hunger for her grew and drove him. He was obsessed with the touch of her skin on his. He rubbed his hardened length against her wetness. It caused her to moan against his lips. He circled her entrance which made her shiver in his arms. He broke their kiss to whisper in her ear, “mine! All mine!”

“Marquise”, was all she managed to say before he entered her. “God!”, she moaned. She was just the way he wanted her to be. “So beautiful! So wet! So tight!”, he moaned as she rode him like a pro. Feeling her bounce up and down on him was a high he had missed. “Yes! More! Give it to me! Take me!”, she moaned. “That’s it, my love! Take it! Take me!”, he shouted.

The sound of their bodies coming together; made her head spin. She was deep in a delicious delirium because of him. “Tell me how you want it, my love.”, he told her. “Harder! Give it to me! Don’t hold back!”, she said to him. He was more than happy to acquiesce her request. When he brought her down hard onto him; she let out a sound that was a half gasp, half moan. “Is this what you wanted, my love?”, he asks. “Yesssssssssss! Fuck me! Give me all of you, Marquise!”, she screamed.

He buried himself to the hilt inside her then pulled out again and again. She dug her nails into his chest; as she continued to ride him. It caused her orgasm to surge higher; and pushed her closer and closer to the edge of her climax. But she wasn’t quite there yet; not until he whispered in her ear. “Don’t hold back, my love! Let go! Let it out! Cum for me!”

“Marquise! Oh shit! I'm gonna cum! Oh fuck! Its coming! Yes! Yes! Yes! I—“, was all she could say before her orgasm erupted and took her with it. She collapsed onto his chest That was all he needed to hear her say. “Yesssssssssss! Cum for me, my love! Oh God it’s coming! Here it comes! It’s all for you!”, he said through gritted teeth as he went over his own climax. She soon collapsed on top of him; as both were covered in sweat, saliva and cum.

While his right hand skimmed her spine; she rubbed the scratches on his chest. “Sorry about that.”, she spoke softly. “Don’t be they’ll heal. Are you alright?”, he asks her. “Yes I’m fine. I just…I forgot what being in your arms felt like.”, she told him. “Well hopefully; I’ll be able to remind you throughout the competition.”, he said to her. “You do know; you’ll have to give equal time to all your suitors, right?”, she asks. He groaned in protest. “Now! Now! Be nice, Marquise!”, she warned him playfully. “I am being nice! They’ll be here won’t they?”, he asked.

She just chuckled at him. “It’s funny. You forgot what it was like to be in my arms; and truth be told, I forgot what it was like to have you in my arms.”, he told her. “I missed you Marquise…so much.”, she told him. “I missed you too, my love. I swore to myself that if you ever came back; I’d do everything that I had to; in order to keep you here with me.”, he said to her. She kissed him softly as she snuggled against his chest. “There is so much I have to make up for. So much I have to tell you; but it can wait. Right now; all I want is for you to fall asleep in my arms.”, he told her as she dozed off to a peaceful sleep.

😘

K.

[amoralityplay]

Kiev, 1992

The baroque house in Kiev was very quiet during the day, only interrupted occasionally by footsteps or hushed conversation between the maid and the handyman—Max was one of very few vampires who still kept thralls, of a sort—or sometimes by the jingle of a cat’s collar bell; Max had always rather liked cats, much to the chagrin of his wife…but, they hadn’t lived together, or really even seen each other in more than just passing, in centuries, so he’d have his cats if he wanted to. 

Audrey wasn’t particularly fond of cats, either, but hadn’t said anything about it. After all, her grandfather had been generous enough to let her move into his sprawling home after her finances had taken a disastrous turn; she’d already been living in Kiev, just a few blocks away from his home there, but the forced sale of her apartment had left her with only two options: stay with Max, or limp back to Boston. And Audrey was not going home, not yet. 

[Cut for length]

“You know, Audrey…it’s been nice having someone around the house again,” the older man mused, setting a teacup and saucer down in front of his granddaughter, the china rattling in his unsteady hands. Max had been turned when he was quite a bit older than many vampires—a member of the Roman senate at the time—and looked to be about sixty, though of course he was much, much older than that. He wasn’t a frail man and looked much like a living version of the Roman marble busts one might see in a museum, but the harsh military life he’d led before joining the senate sometimes showed in the tremor of his hands. “I know the circumstances weren’t ideal…but we never got to spend much time together, once you grew up and started moving around so much. I’m glad you’re here.” Audrey forced a small smile as she looked up. “I know, grandfather. I’m glad, too.” The truth was…Audrey wasn’t glad to be there. The life she’d planned on had unraveled over the last couple decades, starting with her arranged marriage, then her mother’s death, and now financial ruin. Audrey loved her grandfather, but this was not the future she’d hoped for. 

Max nodded, sitting across from her at the small table, set into a corner of a parlor room. “You don’t have to lie for my sake,” he said, reaching over to pat one of her hands where she’d flattened it against the table to keep it still. It wasn’t uncommon for vampires to develop the ability  to read another’s thoughts, and most vampires as old as Max were very good at it…meanwhile, vampires as young as Audrey tended to be equally as bad at keeping their thoughts quiet and were easy to eavesdrop on. 

“I know you don’t want to be here, and it doesn’t have anything to do with me. It’s just been nice, regardless. And you don’t seem so melancholy lately. Is it the birds? Do they help?” He lifted his own cup to sip at the contents—blood, warmed until it steamed slightly. Audrey disliked blood much above body temperature and left her own cup to cool down somewhat. 

It might have been true that Audrey was getting out a bit more than she had for years, really, testing the water here and there at various vampire gatherings…though she wasn’t sure her melancholy had been cured. 

“Well…Cyrus ate one of them,” she said with a small sigh, glancing in the direction of the huge white cat, wearing a blue velvet collar with a golden bell, that was lounging on the rug nearby. The birds her grandfather referred to, a trio of canaries exactly like the ones she’d tried to keep as a little girl, had not, in fact, helped her feel much better. If anything, they’d only soured her disposition further, given the first’s untimely demise and the remaining two that refused to sing at night, just like the ones of her childhood; that had not been an experience Audrey had wanted to relive. “They’ll sing plenty for the maid when she opens the curtains during the day…so I told her she should take them home. They’ll be happier with someone who can let them see the sun a little.” 

“Ah, well, don’t be cross with Fedir for sending them, he hadn’t seen you since you were a teenager. It was what he remembered about you.” Fedir, a vampire Max had sired in the early 1700’s, had always taken a bit more interest in Audrey than anyone—especially Audrey—liked and had been, apparently, rather crushed when she was matched to someone else--he’d long lobbied Max to use his sway with Phersipnai to ensure Audrey was matched with him—and was equally elated to hear the wedding was called off and she’d returned to Kiev. He knew how vampire matches worked and that Audrey was still betrothed regardless of what her current feelings towards her fiancee were, but had made a handful of attempts to garner her attentions regardless. Max thought it was harmless and Audrey found it mildly annoying and certainly hadn’t encouraged the efforts…but she hadn’t exactly put an end to it yet, either. 

“I don’t get cross.” Audrey frowned down at her teacup. 

Max chuckled and nodded. “You have a tendency to be cross, my dear…isn’t that what this is all about? Why you’re in Kiev to begin with? You’ve been cross with Rowan for twenty years, don’t pretend you don’t get cross.” 

“Please don’t start with that,” Audrey groaned. 

“Well. It’s the truth. And your grandmother is supposed to call today—any minute, I think—to talk to you about it, so best you hear it from me first.” He shook his head, running a hand over his short cropped, grey hair. “You should head upstairs, take the call in your room.” Phersipnai hadn’t alerted Max that she’d be calling that day, but after nearly two millennia together, they often had a sense for what the other was doing or feeling, even across continents. Audrey didn’t move immediately, looking down at the blood in her cup as it started to congeal. As she had any time she had been away from her grandmother, she’d remained close with her, writing often or, in more recent years, speaking by phone…but since she’d been in Kiev, the calls had gotten tense…and thus Audrey often avoided them. “Go on. You know she won’t let it slide if you won’t answer.” Max stood and nudged Audrey’s shoulder, and the younger vampire stood with a small sigh. As predicted, the phone rang within a couple minutes of Audrey stepping into her room; she sank into the armchair beside the small pedestal table and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” “Audrey, finally. Do you know how many times I’ve called and that silly little mortal maid your grandfather keeps told me you were out? Have you really been out, or are you avoiding me?” Phersipnai’s voice was unmistakable, lilting with a faint Italian accent. 

“I was out, grandmother. I wouldn’t avoid you.” “Oh, don’t lie, you’re terrible at it. When are you going back to the States, Audrey?” “I don’t know. Maybe never.” 

“Stop that. It’s been twenty years and you’re being dramatic, I think that’s plenty long enough to have this little tantrum. You need to go home and sort things out with Rowan. I know he’s written you all those letters and you haven’t even had the decency to write back.” 

Audrey drew in a small, angry breath. “That’s unfair.” “No, Audrey, what’s unfair is I went to the trouble to make sure your life was comfortable and you never wanted for anything, and then made sure to find you a match that could do the same for you and was a decent person, and you turned around and repaid me by running off to your grandfather the moment things got a little unpleasant—“ “A little unpleasant? He humiliated me, grandmother! There were a hundred other vampires sitting in that church, he could have asked to delay things at any time, but he chose then to do it! People still talk about it when I walk into a room at coalition meetings! Not to even mention he was already practically married and you couldn’t even mention that to me!” “You will not shout at me, Audrey Lavinia Alden.” Phersipnai’s tone dropped low with warning. “People still talk about it because you’ve been punishing him for it for two decades. Rowan has been apologetic and there’s no reason you shouldn’t have at least spoken to him. If you had come back after a few months and sorted things out with him they wouldn’t have anything to gossip about. And I didn’t tell you about his partner because it was irrelevant to your arrangement. Do you really think, with as long as we live, vampires only engage in monogamous marriages where they’re romantically in love with their chosen match? You’re naive. Their partnership existed outside of our rules about marriage—call it a loophole, if you want—and thus had no impact on yours or the obligations you have to each other. And you’re lucky enough that Rowan actually does care about you, even given the circumstances and that it isn’t required of him, and you still treat him like you have.” “No impact? You don’t think that would have an impact? Are you insane?” Audrey had never taken such a tone with her grandmother before, but she couldn’t believe she’d have the gall to tell her that her fiancee already being married to another man wouldn’t have any impact on her own marriage to him. “You don’t care about what I want at all! All you care about is getting a great-granddaughter for your precious line to carry on. I’m not anything more to you than a prized cow you want bred.” Phersipnai didn’t say anything for a moment, the line quiet and Audrey nearly wondered if she’d hung up, but then the Elder finally spoke. “You’re right about part of that, but you’re no prize cow, Audrey. You’re an ill-tempered heifer and I can only hope that any child you have has their personality curbed by their father’s influence.” She paused a beat, drawing a slow breath. “Pack your things. I’m coming to get you. I’m not going to tolerate any more of this nonsense. If you want to act like a child, I will treat you like one. You’ve made it clear enough that you can’t take care of yourself and you can’t be trusted to make reasonable decisions. You have 12 hours.”  Audrey’s hand were shaking so hard she nearly lost her grip on the phone receiver. She wasn’t going back. And it didn’t matter to her if Phersipnai was an Elder. She was going to prove that she could live without her grandmother or Rowan or anyone else. “No.” “No?” Phersipnai parroted, incredulous. 

“No.” And with that, Audrey hung up. 12 hours was plenty of time to get a head start on the Elder…and Audrey had always wondered what Tokyo was like. 

[let-it-raines]

another kind of green (8/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: as always, this is for @xemmaloveskillianx​ as part of my fic giveaway, and this chapter is also for @carpedzem​ because I accidentally made her think I’d written some more of Indirect Deposit yesterday 🙈

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

-/-

“I am so bloody exhausted that nothing could keep me awake.”

“Have you tried caffeine?”

“Three cups of coffee.”

“Ah,” Ariel sighs, “you need a nap. If three cups of coffee aren’t working, you’re beyond the point of caffeine helping.”

“Can’t nap,” Killian yawns, his eyes watering. “I’ve got to study these laws for my practical tomorrow and then head over to Emma’s.”

Ariel clicks her tongue.

“What, A?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She pauses, and unlike Ariel, Killian holds his tongue. She’s obviously about to tease the hell out of him. He knows that without even having to see her face. “It’s just that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Emma lately, and you’re going over to her apartment for her birthday. That seems like kind of a big deal.”

“Aren’t you also going over to her apartment for her birthday?”

“I am.”

“Well, you don’t see me making it a thing with you going.”

“That’s because I don’t have a thing for Emma.”

“I do not have a thing for Emma.”

“I wish you could see my face right now. I’m majorly rolling my eyes.”

“I can imagine it. I’ve seen it enough times.” Killian sighs and leans back on the couch, closing his eyes and pinching his nose with his free hand. “Emma and I are friends, and she mentioned the thing tonight that Mary Margaret and Ruby are having at her place. I was supposed to take her out for dinner anyways, so this kills two birds with one stone.”

“Wow. You’re such a romantic,” she jokes. “You should take her out for dinner anyway. She’d love that.”

“I will see you tonight, love,” Killian tells her as another yawn takes over. “Try not to be an asshole while we’re there.”

“No promises. You should bring her flowers. I can ask Mary Margaret what her favorites are for you.”

Ariel hangs up before he can protest, and he’s left sitting in the silence of his apartment. Will is at the bar working a double today, and it’s quieter than usual without his nagging and curses under his breath about every little thing. Killian’s thirty years old. He really shouldn’t still be living with a roommate, especially when he can afford his own place, but living on his own has always been few and far between.

After Liam died, his apartment felt barren and like it could never be full again. Everything was full of Liam from the items in the fridge to the novels on the shelf. When Milah moved in shortly afterward, the place had been full of Milah and her clothes and the smell of her perfume on every pillow in the place. He thought maybe, just maybe, having her around more would make the emptiness better.  But then she’d left, and the only trace of her was the ring she left on the kitchen countertop.

Maybe he needs his own place where everything is his and his alone. That might be nice for a change.

Emma Swan: Did you know Boston is named after Boston, England? I feel like that’s a sign or something for you being here.

Killian snickers and drops his phone to his chest before picking it up.

Killian Jones: Why do you know that?

Emma Swan: I got a pamphlet listing fun facts about Boston with my lunch takeout.

Killian Jones: Fancy.

Emma Swan: I know. You still coming tonight?

Killian Jones: Aye.

Emma Swan: I’ll have to regale you with more facts about Boston.

Killian Jones: I look forward to it.

-/-

He brought her flowers like an idiot.

They’re lilies with a few other flowers and stems mixed in. Killian’s always enjoyed flowers, but he’s never taken the time to know anything more than the most basic of brands. He didn’t know what Emma liked, didn’t want to ask someone despite Ariel’s offer, but the damn thing was what put the idea in his head. Emma specifically said no gifts, but he showed up with a gift card to their smoothie place and flowers.

What the hell is this woman doing to him that he actually wants to do things like that again?

Possibly making him crazy while also driving him crazy with how she looks tonight.

Emma’s wearing a white sweater that dips down her back, showing the curve of her spine and the freckles on her back until it stops right over the curve off her ass that’s shown off by a pair of sinfully tight jeans. He’s not sure how the damn sweater is staying on or how she even managed to get those bloody jeans on. All he knows is she looks absolutely stunning, and if he stays in this apartment for much longer, he won’t be able to handle himself.

As if he’s fifteen and not thirty.

And there’s not a lot of places for him to look around. Emma lives in a studio apartment, and as spacious and open as it is, it is still one big room with what he assumes is a bathroom in the back.

What has he gotten himself into with this woman?

If he asks himself that question enough, maybe he’ll figure out an answer.

“If it isn’t the husband,” Ruby exclaims when she sees him, and Emma quickly turns around so he can see her face. It’s no less distracting than the view of her from behind. “Fancy you coming to your wife’s birthday party.”

“Is this going to be the joke we all make all night long?”

“You two got drunk and got married in Vegas. I have to make fun of it every single day. It’s the greatest thing.”

“For the record,” David starts, “I don’t think it’s the greatest thing.”

“David, right?”

“Yes.”

Killian sticks his hand out to shake David’s, but the man doesn’t take it. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and stares Killian down. Well, this is certainly going great. His wife is obviously the nicer one.

“Oh my God,” Emma grumbles, walking over toward them and slapping the back of David’s head, “don’t be a dumbass. I’m an adult, you’re not my guardian, and every person in this room knows my history with Killian. We fucked, we drunkenly got married, and now I kick his ass on our morning runs. Does anyone have anything else they’d like to say?”

“I mean, I’d say that we made love, not – ” Emma turns to slap him this time, and he deserves it. He was fully expecting her to do that. In response, he dips down and brushes his lips over her cheek. “Happy birthday, Swan.”

“Thank you, asshole.”

“The flowers are for you.”

She takes them out of his hand and examines them, a small smile still pressed to her lips. “They’re beautiful and definitely against the no gift policy.”

“Cut the man some slack,” Ruby huffs. “He’s just trying to woo his wife with flowers.”

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret interrupts, “do you not have any plates?”

“Of course I have plates. They’re…shit. I don’t have enough plates. Someone text Ariel and ask her to pick some up before she gets here.”

“How do you not have enough plates for eight people?”

“I live by myself and don’t have much company. I don’t need eight plates.”

“You knew we were coming over.”

“I was also told that you would take care of everything since I didn’t want to do anything big to celebrate.”

“And I am, but pregnancy brain is a very real thing.”

“Your wife is pregnant, mate?” Killian asks David, not wanting to intrude on Mary Margaret’s conversation with Emma. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful!”

David is still studying him, and Killian might as well have committed some unspeakable crime. Eventually, though, the corners of his lips turn up. It’s very obviously got little to do with Killian, though, and everything to do with his love for his wife. “Thank you. We’re excited.”

“Alright, lover boy,” Ruby sighs as she wraps her arm around his shoulder, “I’m going to save you from David. Mulan wants to talk to you about how you’ve been keeping Emma out of her gym.”

“I feel like that’s not a safer conversation.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not. You were not smart for showing up here.”

He’s definitely in over his depth when it comes to all of Emma’s friends, and while David should terrify him the most, he thinks Ruby might take that crown.

“I’m starting to pick up on that.”

His life gets significantly easier when Ariel and Eric show up, especially since they come with a small bag of paper plates so everyone can start eating, and with more people there, less attention is on him. He rarely shies away from it, can usually handle it, but he doesn’t know Emma’s friends enough to be truly comfortable with it all.

That is until everyone – except Mary Margaret of course – gets a drink or two into them and is full of lasagna and overly sweet cake. They all settle in Emma’s living room area, Ariel and Eric on two barstools from the kitchen, Ruby and Mulan sitting on the bed, Mary Margaret and David sharing an oversized chair, and he and Emma sitting on her couch. Emma’s got her feet curled underneath her and her head propped up in her hand. She looks relaxed, comfortable even, and it’s a wonderful thing to see after the last time he saw her.

They haven’t managed to go on their runs in the past week. He’s been too tired from training and she’s had shoots in New York and in Connecticut, and the last time he physically saw her he’d taken his teasing too far and tried to get her to share information she wasn’t ready to share. They seemed to have mended things over their texts, but he could never be sure until now.

Three months ago when he knocked on this front door and had it slammed in his face, he never could have imagined he’d be so willingly let inside.

That he’d be invited inside.

It’s easy to get swept up in the way that everyone here is comfortable with each other. Even with Ariel and Eric here, he’s the odd man out, but that doesn’t matter as he gets to hear stories of Emma and her adventures with tequila, a pair of heels that were one size too small, and she, Ruby, and Mary Margaret having to hide under a table in a bar from a man who was not too happy with Mary Margaret losing her dinner over his shoes.

“That doesn’t sound like you at all, Mary Margaret,” Ariel snickers.

Mary Margaret shrugs. “Give me some tequila, and you can see that side of me.”

“After the baby is born, we’re going out then.”

It’s fun and relaxing, and Killian likes learning more about this woman who slowly but surely is allowing him to know and understand her layers. He doesn’t know much about her past, but he knows how she is now: funny and graceful and fiercely protective of the people she loves.

As well as a badass runner who likes hazelnut in her coffee and smoothies and spends far too much time trying to decide what to watch on TV until she ends up not watching anything at all.

How did they get so lucky to have to work together at that convention? It could have been any two people who work in this insane industry, but all of the bumps and stops and goddamn roadblocks enabled him to meet her.

He’s so damn screwed when it comes to her.

Killian looks down to see Emma’s fingers ghosting over his wrist and moving up and down his forearm until she’s messing with the rolled up cuffs of his flannel shirt. He doesn’t even think she knows she’s doing it. She’s been slowly inching closer to him all night, and he can feel every single breath that he’s taking.

He’s got training in the morning, so while he’s only had two beers, he might as well be drunk on Emma.

And really, he should get up and leave. Everyone else has left, giving their excuses and saying their goodbyes over an hour ago, but he’s stayed and kept watching episode after episode of Friday Night Lights. Mary Margaret had put it on. It’s older, but it’s apparently what she’s been watching while working lately.

“I know I didn’t attend high school in America, but is this what it was like?”

“I was a foster kid. I didn’t exactly have the quintessential high school experience. I don’t know, maybe if you’re athletic and look like you’re thirty when you’re sixteen.”

“Those are actors, love.”

Emma scoffs and squeezes her nails into his arm. “You know what I mean.”

“Aye, I do. So this wasn’t what it was like for you?”

“No,” she laughs, shaking her head from side to side. “God no. I – ” She stops, turning to look at him, before looking away and moving her hand down his arm again. She’s going to mark him with her nails if she keeps this up. “It’s nothing.”

“What? You can tell me? You were secretly prom queen, weren’t you? Did you play a preppy sport? Or were you on the debate team? You’re damn good at arguing. I mean – ”

“I slept with an older guy who apparently had a thing for girls much too young for him and got arrested for his dumbass crimes that he fucking framed me for, so I didn’t get the high school experience like these obviously too old actors.”

Wait. Where the hell did that come from?

“Swan – ”

“I think it’s so ironic that one of the only jobs I’ve been able to get because of Neal is modeling wedding dresses. He made me not want to ever get married, and yet here I am having to pretend I believe in some kind of happily ever after. What if I’d wanted to go to college? What if I’d wanted to be a cop or a teacher or something? What if I didn’t have to check the box on job applications that says I’ve got a felony to my name? But it’s fine. It’s normal. It happened, and I don’t care.”

She likely doesn’t even hear how contradictory she’s being.

He’d like to punch that asshole and break his nose so badly it can never be repaired. Of all of the shitty things that have happened to him in his life, at least no one ever ruined his life for work. Any troubles he’s had have all been his own doing. He can be as fucked up as possible emotionally, but at least he can work wherever he wants.

At least he can follow his dreams.

At least he can be a regular human being without restrictions.

“What that bastard did to you isn’t normal, Emma.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.”

Emma stands from the couch and walks to the other side of the room, arms crossed over her chest as her feet keep moving back and forth. He has a feeling she’s going to be like this all night. He may not have been in the foster system, but he had a rubbish father who left him after he’d had to move countries to be with him and a mum and brother who both died. Birthdays haven’t been happy days for a long time, and if Emma is anything like him, her emotions are running a little higher than they would normally be.

Birthdays aren’t truly the same when you haven’t lived your entire life having someone to celebrate them with.

The two large glasses of wine swirling around in Emma’s stomach likely won’t help. At least she hasn’t had any tequila.

“You know,” Killian starts, figuring he might as well just go for it. He’s nowhere near buzzed, alcohol not giving him any liquid courage, but Emma makes him want to let her know him. Something about her makes him want to share, and he’s never been able to pinpoint what it is. “I was with someone for a long time.”

She stops pacing and turns to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Aye. She was brilliant and beautiful, and without getting too much into it, I proposed to her. For months she wore the ring on her finger. She had been with me before Liam died and when Liam died, she was the only thing that kept me from…she kept me from lashing out at the world, and then one day she left the ring on the kitchen counter with a note telling me she was going back to her husband and her child. I didn’t know they existed, but looking back, I should have seen the signs. So, the not wanting to get married part, I get that.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“People are such assholes.”

“You’re speaking a lot of damn truths tonight.”

Emma huffs and then walks back toward him until she plops down onto the couch and shifts. “I’m sorry about your fiancée.”

“I’m sorry that bastard did what he did to you.”

“It’s okay.”

Killian knows that it’s not and that Emma knows it’s not, but if this is the way she wants to deal with things, he can’t change that. Just because he wants to channel his anger and his disappointment over life into some kind of action doesn’t mean Emma wants to. And the way that she’s biting her lip and tapping her leg makes him think maybe she doesn’t want to talk at all right now.

That’s fine. He can be the one to fill the silence, not that they really need that. So he tells her of his mum and her kindness and the way she would sing him lullabies even as he grew older. He tells her of his father and the way he left and how Liam was basically his father despite only being five years older than him. He tells her the simplified version of most everything, at least the big moments, but as easily as it was to fall into spilling his heart, it’s even easier to fall back into talking about the simple things: favorites movies and hobbies and telling stories about their friends or the weird things that have happened to them on the job. Neither of them have made their livings in a conventional way, and it will never not be nice to talk about how insane the industry could be.

“So what do you want to do, Swan? If you could do anything.”

It’s verging into dangerous territory, and he fully expects Emma to tell him to shove the leftover birthday cake he’s eating up his ass.

She shrugs. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”

“Try me.”

Emma hums as she scoops up a glob of yellow icing and licks her fork clean. Killian shifts to adjust his jeans. She’s eating cake. He should not in any way be thinking about how her lips wrap around the fork.

It’s two in the morning. His thoughts are not his own.

He’s really getting old if two in the morning feels this late to him, but it’s that time of the night where the world is muted in a way. Either every noise is cause for alarm or nothing quite seems real, a place between sleep and awake where there could be something new at every turn.

Where there could be a new set of green eyes that aren’t actually new and a silhouette he hasn’t yet learned to trace and where things might actually work out for him for once.

If only, if only.

“I don’t know,” Emma sighs after about a minute of silence. “Maybe I’d want to work with foster kids, tell them that it gets better even when it doesn’t. Maybe I’d like to be a cop like you or David or Graham. I always say I would never, but I think it could be interesting. Maybe I could do something a little less emotional and be a freaking party planner or be an Instagram Influencer and promote, like, charities instead of one-hundred-dollar lipstick. I don’t know. I don’t…I’ve never thought about it because nothing has ever felt like a possibility.”

“You know, some people will see how young you were on this record and see that it’s non-violent, and they will give you an opportunity because it’s been a decade. You could try to get your record expunged or even sealed since I’m assuming it’s not. And then when you decide that you want to quit modeling for every wedding dress designer and boutique in New England, you can find something else you love.”

“Can I be a professional birthday cake eater?”

Killian leans his head back with laughter. “I’ll look into that for you. I’m sure there’s something like that.”

“That would be the dream.” Emma huffs and turns her head to hide her smile. “Are you scared the same thing is going to happen to you? That happened to Liam?”

He swallows as his heart races that little bit quicker. He wasn’t expecting that. He’s never expected that despite thinking the question himself almost daily. “Aye. I know the risks. I know the possibility. But if there’s one thing you need to know about me, Swan, it’s that I’m a survivor.”

“Good.”

They both end up eating two more slices of cake, something he regrets no later than fifteen minutes after putting his plate down, but he soon forgets it all as they sleepily watch a movie, the flickering of the television lights now the only thing illuminating the room and casting Emma in a subtle glow. He should get up and go home. It wouldn’t take much, no longer than ten minutes, but with the heat of Emma’s body radiating toward him and little strands of her hair tickling his skin, he can’t find the motivation to be anywhere but here.

Bloody hell.

They’ve spent the night together once before, but he got up and left before she could wake up. That feels like a lifetime ago, and he doesn’t think he’d make the mistake of walking away again.

“Killian?”

“Yeah, love?”

Emma leans forward so he gets a glance of her bare back, her sweater having shifted even more. “Do you think you’d ever change your mind about not wanting to get married?”

Tonight is full of all of the questions, he guesses. All he hopes is that she doesn’t regret this in the morning.

“I imagine if I met the right person, maybe. I’ve never been completely opposed to marriage or falling in love again. I think, maybe, I simply needed reminding that I could.”

If he fell in love again.

If he trusted again.

If he felt the way he’s feeling right now where his stomach can’t seem to settle and his mind is pretty much the same.

She blinks at him, her mouth parted and the smallest bit of yellow icing on the corner of her lips. Without thinking, he reaches forward and thumbs it away as little sparks of electricity move from his fingertip up his arm and eventually down his spine, joining in on his unsettled stomach and the nerves that can’t seem to settle. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her. How many times has he thought that? Tonight and this week and over the past few months. The night they met they couldn’t keep their hands – or their mouths to be honest – off each other, but now, every touch burns him alive.

There’s so much at stake, so much to lose, and he never thought this woman would be anything more than one night.

He never thought she might be the one to remind him that not everything about love is terrible. He’s not there yet, but he could be.

It’s all in the possibility.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, falling back to the couch so her shoulder hits his and the outside of her thigh brushes his thigh. He can feel the heat of her skin through his jeans even more now, and he’s thankful that she was the one to move first and stop their staring contest. “I guess I can understand that.”

-/-

There’s a bang of a door and Killian startles awake.

He blinks, looking around at the blurred furniture only to realize this is Emma’s apartment. Shit. He fell asleep.

Shit. He’s got to be at training in…he looks down at his phone on the coffee table.

Fuck.

He’s got to be at training for his exams in twenty minutes.

Quickly, he grabs his phone, sticking it in the pocket of his jeans, hitting there to make sure he has his wallet and his keys, and his mind is in such a panic that he doesn’t notice that Emma hasn’t moved from her spot by the door until he’s standing in front of her trying to walk out.

His breath has got to be horrible right now.

“Emma, sweetheart, I’ve got to – wait, what’s wrong?”

She blinks up at him, her green eyes bright even with the smudged and flecked mascara underneath her eyes, and he’s so entranced by her that all he wants, even now, is to lean down and softly brush her lips over and feel the gloriousness of her mouth once more. That feeling has only been in dreams for so long, but it was real once, even if the circumstances were different.

“N-nothing,” she stutters, backing up to the door. “It’s just that, um, I went and got my mail because I hadn’t in a few days, and our annulment papers came in. We’re officially no longer married.”

-/-

-/-

@xemmaloveskillianx​ @therealstartraveller776​ @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi  @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells  @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part Five]

Summary:  Chris trails Elsa to find out if the crew is safe or not.  Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1720 Chapter Warnings: Angst, lying. After-effects of bank robbery/kidnapping. Square Filled: The entire series (bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

Elsa rolled her eyes as she looked through the fridge, deciding which leftovers would make the best supper. She had some time off from the bank to recover from her injuries, physical and otherwise, but that didn’t mean she had wanted to use any of her last few free days to do anything but cry or sleep. When she finally was able to pull herself out of bed and into the shower, she realized she needed to get in touch with her family and let them know about the robbery before it hit the news and got back to New York. Now, here she was on the phone with her mother; though she had reached her father first, Caleb Chapman quickly passed the phone over to his wife while he got in touch with a lawyer to make sure Elsa was protected against being pressured into any kind of questioning or other participation by the police. Margaret was on and on about how she knew something like this would happen, and Elsa should come back to New York right away.

“Something like this could have happened just as easily in Manhattan,” Elsa sighed, “there are a million banks across the country, I just happen to work at one that got hit. I’m all right, by the way, thanks for asking. MassGen has some really great doctors.”

Margaret huffed into the phone. “I figured if you weren’t fine, Elsa, you would have called sooner. But what if it happens again? What if you’re not fine?”

“I’m not going to be at the bank forever. The chances of this happening again are slim to none. Listen, I just wanted you both to hear this from me and not through the news. I’m fine, I don’t have to go back to the bank until next week.”

She closed the refrigerator door and realized she was going to need to go to the grocery store if she planned to eat any time soon. She rushed her mother off the phone and got herself presentable to do some shopping. Forgoing a list, she walked to the nearest grocery and found a cart.

After produce, she headed for canned goods. A can of corn on the top shelf was giving her particular trouble. Elsa could stand on the bottom shelf and reach it, but looking up made her head spin. An after effect of the concussion, she assumed, but that one small problem brought a million images of the bank robbery back to her.

She stood in front of the canned vegetables, willing herself not to cry. She stared straight ahead in an effort to regain her equilibrium, but not looking around meant there was nothing she could do but think about the yelling and the guns and the kidnapping.

“Can I help you reach something?”

Elsa turned too fast toward the person offering to help and nearly lost her balance. He reached out to grip her shoulders and keep her upright.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

Elsa looked up and caught a set of very pretty blue eyes, framed by a handsome face and brown hair. As they both straightened up, she realized how tall he was. And athletic. Now her head was spinning, but not from the concussion. She sniffled and leaned against the shelf for support.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I have a concussion, I was trying to reach for the corn on the top shelf, it made me dizzy, then I remembered everything that happened surrounding the concussion … I’m sorry. Now I’m rambling on to you about all of this.”

He reached up to the top shelf, retrieved two cans of corn, and placed them in her cart. He turned back to her and extended his hand.

“I’m Chris.”

Elsa smiled shyly and slipped her hand into his. It wasn’t so much of a handshake as it was him taking her hand in an attempt at comfort.

“Elsa.”

Chris nodded, his eyes roaming over her. She was suddenly very conscious of her appearance, but Chris didn’t seem turned off in the least.

“Nice to meet you. Listen, I only came here to get a couple of things. Why don’t you let me trail you while you finish, I’ll reach all the high stuff, and then I’ll take you for coffee.”

It wasn’t a question, and Elsa liked that about him. He was so sure, so confident — two things she was severely lacking at the moment. Her balance seemed to have returned, so she took him up on his offer. The last few days had been pretty shitty, but maybe things were looking up now.

Chris trailed Elsa around the store, making small talk and asking her questions about herself. He figured if she was going to make him, it would have happened the second she spotted him in that grocery store aisle. She didn’t mention anything about the circumstances of her concussion, but he attributed that more to the trauma than to Elsa connecting him to the trauma itself.

Once they were out of the grocery store, they walked to her apartment building. He waited on the sidewalk while she put her cold things away. She came back down within a few minutes, recovered from her small breakdown at the grocery store and just glowing. Chris hadn’t been thinking about things like pretty girls when the robbery happened -- then, it was just about getting the job down and getting out. The longer he looked at her, the worse he felt about the robbery.

Soon after arriving at the coffee shop, they were seated; Chris with a black cuppa and Elsa with a cup of tea with lemon and honey. She sat with her back to the wall, watching the door carefully and so tense, Chris wondered what she was waiting for.

“Expecting someone else?” he asked.

Elsa shook her head slowly and apologized. “I’m paranoid, is all.”

Chris frowned. “Any reason why?”

Her eyes glazed over again but she didn’t actually cry. “I don’t want to trouble you with my troubles. But thank you for asking.”

Acting on instinct, Chris reached over and covered her hand with his. “I wanna know. You’re not troubling me.”

She took a deep breath and considered him before sipping at her tea and leaning back in her chair. “I work for Boston Private. A few days ago, there was a robbery. They came in masks and they had guns. The code is sent to a different teller every day, and that day, I had the code. I did what they asked, I opened the safe, but someone pressed the alarm. They thought it was me, one of them shoved me into their van. Tied my hands behind me, blindfolded and gagged me. I don’t know how long we were in the van, but they dropped me on a curb. One of them, he told me I was going to be okay, that no one was going to hurt me. He told me to sing my favorite song, and then take the blindfold off. So, I did, and then I managed to nudge the blindfold and gag away from my face, and I screamed for my life.”

Chris was suddenly seeing the whole thing happen from her side of the robbery. He knew they had hurt her, but this … his heart was breaking and he was nearly sick to his stomach. He said the only thing he could think to say.

“What song did you sing?”

“‘Hey Jude’,” Elsa whispered. She cleared her throat and took another drink of her tea. “My dad used to take me to his office downtown when I was a kid and had days off of school. The mornings were always quiet, but in the afternoon, when he really got going, he would hum it or sing it. I listened to that song for years before I actually heard The Beatles sing it.”

Chris gave her half a smile. “Classic. I’m sorry that happened, Elsa.”

She chuckled and shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault, but thank you. You know, this is the first time I’ve left my place since I got home from the hospital that day. You’re brave to be seen in public with me while I’ve still got these stitches.”

“You’re beautiful,” Chris assured, putting every bit of confidence into the statement. “And if you told me all of that to scare me off, it didn’t work. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Elsa’s cheeks turned a brilliant pink, a perfect hue that excellently complimented her brown eyes. “You want to have dinner with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’d really like that.”

“Great. Pick you up in front of your place at seven?”

“I’ll be ready and waiting,” she promised.

“Good.”

They finished their drinks with lighter conversation, reaffirmed their date for the next night, and then parted ways.

Back at the barber shop, the entire crew was anxiously waiting for Chris to return. Scarlett had been the first to jump at the chance to tail Elsa and figure out if she was talking to the cops, if she would recognize them around the neighborhood. Thing was, Scar wasn’t the best with girl talk anyway, and Chris didn’t trust her to act responsibly if Elsa at all hinted at speaking to the cops and/or recognizing Scarlett. If she recognized Scarlett, surely she would recognize the rest of them.

“We’re in the clear,” Chris announced, as soon as Shanna and Carly were out of earshot. Seb, Scar, and Scotty all breathed a sigh of relief. They made an agreement not to take a hostage again, no matter what, and moved on to their customers.

He wondered if he should mention that he was going to continue seeing Elsa, but decided for the time being it was better not to say anything. Maybe things wouldn’t even go past the first date; furthermore, he wasn’t going to risk a scene in the middle of the shop in front of his sisters. He would concentrate on the shop for a while, maybe find a place on his own, move out of the place he was currently sharing with Scotty and Seb.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, his mind warned him. Chris didn’t listen. Elsa already had him thinking about the possibilities.

AlloftheThings: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​@horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @softrogers​@pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​@fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl��

Boston Boys:  @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @becs-bunker​ @shield-agent78​ @patzammit​ @crazyandanonymous4u​@ntlmundy​​ @jennmurawski13​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 17

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.  This chapter contains an 'active shooter' scenario.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words: 5k

Parts 18, 19, 20 & 21 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

One Month Later

“Hello, earth to Y/N.” Millie’s hand is waving in front of your face as you snap to attention. “Jesus, what is going on with you?”

“Nothing.” You shake your head, tapping the mouse to wake up your computer. “I’m just tired.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but don’t assume I’m an idiot.”

You’ve shared a little, she knew you were seeing someone, now you’re not. But you’ve never gone into details. She guessed once that your mystery weekend guy was some married man with a wife and kids. You let her live with the assumption. It’s easier that way.

Millie tilts her head, eyes flicking to Lexi’s empty desk. “Did Lexi tell you she’s working on some super secret project for the boss man?”

You want to throw up. Of course she is.

“She told me,” you confirm, typing in your password twice before getting it right.

“What do you think it is? I mean I love the girl, but she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.” Millie looks at you, frowning in concern.

You have a pretty good idea what kind of special project Sam’s assigned her to, the same kind you worked on. He was bored fucking you so he moved on to someone younger, firmer and dumber. As much as you try to fight it, your mind can’t help but conjure up images of her on her knees sucking his cock.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Millie places a hand on your shoulder and you flinch, looking up at her. “You’re all over the place.”

“No,” you shake your head, sitting back in the chair. “I don’t think I want to work here anymore.”

“Seriously?” Millie hunches down, getting close to whisper, “did Max do something again? Is someone bothering you?”

“No, he’s actually been really apologetic after he was put on his corrective action plan,” you snort. “I’m just fucking done. This place is a black hole and I need to move on.” You look at Lexi’s empty seat. “I’m gonna go talk to Pepper and put in my two weeks. Then I’m gonna let you take me out and get me drunk.”

--

After a few shots of tequila, you sit at the open window of your apartment, sipping a bottle of water and watching the city lights at night. For the better part of a year, life was focused around Sam, when you’d see him next, what would happen. Now that excitement is nowhere to be found and you're left with the realization that you’ve let the other parts of your life fade into the background. There’s a kind of emptiness that you’ve struggled to fill, a void that you’re learning to live with.

Above all else, you feel foolish. While you want to feel betrayed, you simply can’t. He was always up front. He told you time and time again it was nothing more than sex. But your logical mind and your heart aren’t always working together. Developing feelings for someone like Sam Winchester was bound to end badly, you knew that from the start.

If nothing else, Sam taught you a lot about yourself. Sex with him was eye-opening. He showed you how to openly desire all the things that you hid for so long. Not only do you know what you like, now you know how to ask for it and you’ll never be ashamed of what turns you on again.

It’s been one hell of a rollercoaster but it’s time to leave. Not just W & S, but Boston as well. It’s time to start over. In a couple of weeks, you’ll be in Chicago, a place where you know no one and no one knows you. It’s for the best, here your memories are haunted, little pieces of Sam everywhere. At least you learned a lesson.

As you lay down to go to sleep you glance at the bedside table. There’s a small vibrator in the drawer. You’ve tried to masturbate several times since your final goodbye but you can’t quite get there. All your fantasies somehow morph into Sam at the end and it pulls you right out of the moment. Perhaps more distance will help you get back to normal.

You fall asleep dreaming of a new life, somewhere far, far away.

Two Weeks Later

Juggling a comically tall stack of folders you head to the conference room.

You’re late for your last meeting as an employee of W & S. It’s your project hand-off, going over all your active cases with Pepper and Millie. Only a few more hours and you can kiss this place goodbye for good.

It’s as you open the door and flick the light switch, you’re met with a chorus of happy voices.

“Surprise!”

You jump back, breaking out into a smile at the room full of colleagues in party hats. There’s a sheet cake in the middle of the table with We’ll Miss You! scrawled across in blue frosting.

“You scared the shit out of me!” You laugh, dropping the files onto the table.

“That was the idea,” Pepper smirks, sliding a paper cup of punch across the table. “It’s not a surprise unless you shit yourself.”

“Honestly I didn’t expect this. I didn’t think anyone would care that I left,” you confess, looking at an envelope with your name written across it.

Millie is already cutting the cake, handing you the first piece. “Are you kidding, we all love you. It’s gonna be boring without you. Don’t get too excited about your gift, it’s only an Ikea gift card.”

“I never thought I’d say this,” Pepper leans in, dipping her finger into the frosting on your plate. “But I sure wish you were staying, Lexi is a nightmare.” You both look up at Lexi who’s babbling on in the corner of the room clad in a skin-tight pink dress. “I long for the days of your slow walking and crappy notes.”

“Good to know I’m appreciated in hindsight,” you force a smile, trying to focus on anything other than thoughts of Lexi and Sam.

There’s a faint, repeating noise in the distance, it’s out of place but you’re not really paying attention.

“Hey,” Max slides in beside you. Millie sighs but backs off. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, for you know, saying that stuff about you. I was a dick.”

He has been making an effort, there’s a subtle hint of that nice guy you met before he turned into a full-fledged bastard.

“Yes, you were.” You roll your eyes, offering him a smile. “I forgive you, but only if you don’t do it to anyone else again.”

“I swear,” he nods, a hand over his heart. “Lesson learned, I-”

He pauses to listen to the popping in the distance. The room falls silent.

“Is someone setting off fireworks?” Pepper stands up, moving toward the window.

“That’s not fireworks,” Tim Bellamy from accounting stands up, walking to the door of the conference room and looking out into the hallway. “That’s gunfire.”

“What are you talking about?” Your heart speeds up to gallop, a low simmer of panic setting in. Right on cue, all the lights shut off, the whirl of the air conditioning stops.

There it is again, closer than before. It sounds like it’s coming from a few floors down.

Pop

Pop

Pop

Pop

“Someone’s shooting,” Millie whispers, looking to you with eyes the size of saucers.

“Security will stop whoever it is,” Pepper’s voice is broken as she wrings her hands together, staring at the open door.

“What do we do?” You look at Tim. You don’t know much about him, but you do recall that he’s a combat veteran, a Marine if you remember correctly.

“We run,” he confirms, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it on the table. “If you're wearing heels, take them off. Get rid of anything that’s going to slow you down or make noise.”

You reach down, slipping off your pumps, bare toes sinking into the carpet. You’re sweating now, listening to the burst of gunfire coming in rapid succession. For a moment it’s getting closer then there’s a break, silence.

“Follow me.” Tim inches toward the door, peeking out into the hallway. “If you get out into the open don’t run in a straight line, zig-zag back and forth. Doesn’t matter if anyone’s shooting at you, make yourself a hard target to hit.”

“This isn’t happening,” Millies cries behind you, her hands on your hips. “Oh my god, this can’t be happening.”

“Quiet,” Tim turns back, looking at each one of you. “Stay silent. Follow me now.”

You trail after him down the hall, everyone moving in silence, grasping each other’s hands. The hallway opens up into a sea of cubicles. You’re headed toward the red exit sign at the other end of the room, it’s the door to the stairwell.

Without warning the door slams open, hitting the wall with a thud. Millie yelps, Lexi screams from somewhere in the back. Trevor from IT comes sprinting toward you, sweating, in pure panic.

“He’s coming!” He yells running past you in a sprint.

“Who’s coming?” Max yells.

“Brent!” Trevor calls back, his voice faint as he disappears around the corner at the other end of the room.

Brent.

“Fuck,” you breathe, remembering the day he was fired, how it took multiple security guards to wrestle him out of the building. “Where do we-”

Your voice turns into a scream as Brent appears in the doorway. He’s holding some kind of huge rifle, the kind you’ve seen in movies as he jams in a fresh clip. He looks up spotting your group.

“Run!” Tim shouts, stepping in front with his arms spread wide.

Time slows down and you have a thousand thoughts at once.

You should have called your mom this morning.

You’re not wearing matching underwear.

You should have told Sam how you felt as soon as you felt it.

You’re going to die on your last day here, you should have left last week.

If you’d have gone to college, none of this would have ever happened.

There is an ear-shattering pop and Tim’s body jerks back, careening into you before he hits the wall and his knees give way. He’s clutching his stomach, blood pouring from a wound. You’re frozen in sheer terror, a scream erupting from your throat as Brent advances.

There’s a shout from the other side of the room, a woman you’ve never seen before shrieks drawing his attention. There’s a spray of bullets in her direction and you watch in horror when she sinks behind one of the cubicles.

Turning back to you Brent looks calm and focused as he takes aim and shoots off another round, hitting Max in the upper thigh. One more step and he shoots again, the bullet hitting Max’s chest and this time he falls to the floor.

Brent is close now, his eyes narrowing as he hones in on you.

“Please,” you whisper, shaking uncontrollably as you raise both hands in front of your face. There is no sight or sound, everything comes to a halt as you take a final breath.  “Please don't kill me.”

Brent just snorts, raising the gun and pointing it at your head.

Sam comes out of nowhere moving with a speed and power that you would have never known he was capable of. He drives the heel of his hand up into Brent’s chin, snatching the rifle from him in the same move. Swinging the butt of the gun around he whacks Brent in the head hard enough that it makes a sickening crack. Blood begins to pour from the wound as Brent’s knees buckle and he collapses to the ground.

With a series of methodical movements, Sam disassembles the firearm as if he’s done it a million times before. In ten seconds flat it’s lying in pieces on the carpet. He kneels next to Brent, patting down his unconscious body and pulling away two handguns that are tucked into his waistband. Sam takes those apart as well, leaving the pieces on a nearby desk.

“Are you alright?” he asks and you realize he’s talking to you. You blink, your mind a blank slate looking from Brent to Sam who’s standing in front of you, one hand on each shoulder. “Y/N?”

“I think so,” you mutter, staring at him in disbelief. All that fear is suddenly gone and you’re numb, physically and emotionally, save for the nauseous feeling in your belly. You explain calmly, “I think I might throw up.”

“That’s okay,” he cups your face for a moment, both hands under your jaw, giving you his undivided attention. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head no, turning away from him to vomit onto the floor.

“Oh my God!” You hear Lexi’s high pitched shriek coming up behind you. When you look up she’s throwing herself at Sam, wrapping arms around him. “You saved us!”

Sam just looks at you, his arms dangling at his side as she presses her head over his chest.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod,” Millie’s arms are around you, trembling as she squeezes tight. Wiping your chin you heave again, the last of your stomach contents coming up. “You’re alright, you’re gonna be alright.” She keeps repeating, rocking back and forth as she strokes your hair.

It’s not exactly soothing for you, but it seems to be what she needs, so you let her cradle you.

The next few minutes are a blur. Every moment melts into the next. There’s a swirl of activity, police and swat officers swarming the room. Several people are talking at you but you can’t hear them, your ears are ringing and you’ve got tunnel vision. Someone moves you, there’s a hand on each arm and you’re walking but not sure where or how.

The next thing you know you’re in Sam’s office, sitting on his couch. He’s standing near his desk and you’re surrounded by a dozen agents with ATF and FBI emblazoned on their clothes.

The voices come in and out of focus. There’s a man sitting next to you, his mustache is untrimmed, creeping over his upper lip and for a moment it’s all you see.

“Y/N?” he asks, leaning closer. “Can you hear me?”

“She’s in shock.” A female voice comes from somewhere in the background. “We have an ambulance on the way. We needed to get the critical cases out of the building first. We can have someone drive her-”

“I can hear you.” You clear your throat, feeling like you’ve been shot with a tranquilizer. A hush falls over the room and you look from the man in front of you to Sam. “I don’t wanna go to the hospital. Please don’t make me.”

“Okay,” Sam nods, walking over and sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “She can wait until tomorrow, can’t she?” He looks at the officer next to you.

“We don’t recommend it.” Another voice answers.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” You look around at the strangers staring at you like a zoo animal. “Sam, I want to leave.”

“She shouldn’t be alone in this state. Once we have her emergency contacts we’ll send a car to take her home.”  

“That’s not necessary she’s going home with me.” Sam reaches out, squeezing your knee. “We can set up a time tomorrow afternoon for interviews.”

-

You sit in silence next to Sam as the car makes the drive to Newton. The world whizzes by as you look out the window, your mind a blank slate devoid of any real thought. Sam doesn’t say anything, you’re vaguely aware of him looking at you from time to time. By the time you reach his house, your mind and body are starting to equalize. You follow him into the house, looking around at the all too familiar surroundings. Nothing's changed since the last time you were here.

Sam walks directly into the kitchen, opening up a cupboard and pulling out an empty trash bag.

“Take your clothes off.” He instructs calmly. You snort, eyes widening, unsure of how he can even think that you’re going to comply with his commands- “You have blood on your clothes,” he explains and you feel instantly sheepish. “Undress and take a shower.”

You look at him, a combination of betrayal and exhaustion. There’s a lot you want to say, but instead, you pull your blouse over your head, then shimmy your skirt down your hips. He holds open the bag and you place both inside, then strip the rest of the way, peeling off your panties and bra.

Naked, you pad down the hallway to his room, leaving the light off as you find the way to his shower and climb inside. You sit down on the tile under the warm water, pulling your legs up to your chest. You stay just like that until the water runs cold and you have to get out.

When you finally get out, you halfheartedly dry off, leaving the towel on the hook and a series of wet footprints on the hardwood of his bedroom floor.

Sam is sitting on the edge of the bed but stands up the moment he sees you. He must have used the guest shower because his hair is wet and he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and blue and white striped pajama pants.

You just stand there in the nude, staring at him, a million thoughts colliding at the same time.

“Why am I here?” you ask quietly. You’re not sure if you want the answer, you’re still upset with him, raw over your last conversation.

“Because I want you here.” He responds evenly. “You were traumatized and I-”

“I’m not the only one who was traumatized,” you interrupt. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

“No, you don’t.” He raises his chin, jaw locked in place.

“How did you know how to do that? What you did to Brent, I’ve only ever seen people fight like that in the movies.”

“My dad,” he explains, running his tongue over his teeth under his upper lip. “Winchester 101.”

“Right,” you nod, feeling water dripping from the end of your hair, down your back and over your breasts. “You’re a hero. You came to save us. Guess you’re not a total asshole.”

“I am a total asshole. I don’t give a shit about anyone else.” This confession comes out just as simple as everything else while you stare at each other. “I came for you.”

“Why?” you ask imploringly, stepping forward. “Why didn’t you come for Lexi, she’s your ‘special project’ now.”

“You think I’m sleeping with her?” He raises an eyebrow, letting out a humorless chuckle. “Well, that’s what I hoped you’d assume. I wanted to hurt you because I am an asshole. I wanted you to move on. But I’m not fucking her. I have her reporting back me on Peter Kelson. He’s leaking information. He wants to fuck her, so he drinks too much and tells her more than he should and then she tells me. That’s all.”

“I don’t understand you,” you sigh, defeated. “You said you were bored with me. You cut me out like I was nothing and now you’re telling me you put yourself in front of a bullet for me?”

“I lied.” He shrugs, looking to the side before forcing his gaze back to you. “I was, I am, uncomfortable with the way I feel about you. I want to be with you, I care for you. That’s not something I know how to do anymore. I gave up on that concept a long time ago.”

Your heart does a little skip in your chest, first the worst day of your life and now this. Whatever this is.  

“You can’t just...do this. You walked away from me like I meant nothing to you.”

“I wanted you to hate me,” he confesses, eyes transfixed on yours waiting to see if you’ll bolt.

“I did.” You shrug, stripped bare of pretense. There’s no room for anything to be left unsaid, not anymore. “I do, hate you. The way you treated me made me feel small...insignificant.”

“I know,” he nods, blinking twice, before looking at the floor to gather himself. “But you’re not.”

“I care about you.” You look down at your hands. “But how can you say that? You were going to let me leave. Let me move halfway across the country.”

“You would have been fine.” He steps closer, face tightening in displeasure. “You were hurt, and pissed at me, but you would have moved on. I was going to let you go but I couldn’t let you die, I couldn’t go through that again-” His voice wavers and he pauses, searching your face. “I make a shitty partner in every sense of the word. I’m selfish and impatient. I don’t like relinquishing control. I don’t like to talk about how I feel or my past. I’ll hurt you and you may end up hating me in the end...but I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay in Boston, to stay with me.”

“You haven’t apologized yet, apologized for hurting me like that.” You swallow, watching his jaw set wishing you could just read his mind. It would make this so much easier.

“I’m sorry.” He implores and for the first time you see a side of him you would have not imagined existed. He looks vulnerable, sad and desperate, completely out of character.

“Will you try?” you whisper, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. “It’s one thing to say that you’re terrible at relationships but it’s another to accept it. You put so much energy and commitment into your work, Sam. Are you going to give me at least some of that? Because if you’re not going to try, then there’s no point.”

“I’ll try,” he nods. “I give you my word.”

“Then I’ll stay,” you murmur as his hands cup your face, sliding along either side of your jaw.

He leans down to kiss you, lips meeting gently for the first time. As adept as he is in the bedroom, you wonder if he’s kissed anyone like this since his girlfriend all those years ago. He’s hesitant, the gentle press of his mouth to yours growing more passionate as you slide your tongue forward. That first kiss grows, hands pulling and grabbing, anything to be closer to one another.

He’s naked before you hit the bed, whipping his shirt over his head and stepping out of his pants before he picks up and spreads you over the mattress.  For all the sex you’ve had, all the spanking and groping and sucking, you’ve never felt him like this. The heat and heft of his body take your breath away. This much skin on skin is like a drug as you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him tight as he kisses you long and deep.

His cock is thick and hard, poking your thigh as you whimper and moan underneath him. Your fingernails dig into his back holding on, desperate to have him just like this. You could drown underneath him in this bed and die happy here and now.

You’re both making up for lost time, his mouth sealed to yours as he moans against your lips, pulling back only long enough to suck in a breath before tasting you again.

Spreading your legs wide you watch as he notches of the head of his cock in your pussy. That first push inside makes you gasp as he stretches you open. Your mouth opens wide against his as he slides home, filling you to the root.

“Fuck, Sam,” you whine, fisting one hand in his hair as he strokes in and out, setting an easy pace that’s far from the usual. “You feel so good like this.”

“Gonna make you cum so hard,” he mumbles against your lips. Grabbing a fist full of hair he tugs your head back, slowly pulling your neck taught. “Look at me.”

“I am,” you promise, eyes opening as his cock moves inside you. It’s a full feeling that sends a tingle up your spine and then fans out in all directions. While you can’t orgasm from just this, the stretch of his shaft feels incredible. For a long time, he fucks you just like this, the weight of him pressing you down into the bed, his chest laying over your beasts, and his mouth sealed to your lips.

While he’s not exactly gentle, he’s also not as rough as he has been in the past. His breath is hot as he buries his face in your neck, grunting and panting with every stroke. Tonight is about pleasure and connection and you’re practically humming on every level as the world fades away and only this moment exists.

Sam props himself up on his arms, breathing heavy as he rocks strong and deep. One hand cups your breast, just holding you as you stare up him, his hair hanging down, swinging with the movement of his body. He dips down for one more kiss before lifting himself up enough to wedge his hand between your bodies in search of your clit. His mouth seals shut in concentration as he thrusts steadily, making gentle sweeps over your bud.

It doesn’t take long, you’re already drenched in pleasure and with the addition of his touch, you swell with satisfaction.

“Can I cum?” you pant, mouth falling open as you hold back, waiting for his permission out of sheer force of habit.

“Yes,” he gasps, pressing forward, holding his cock deep and rubbing your clit and you come undone, clenching and pulsing around him.

“Oh God,” is all you can muster, twitching and jerky underneath him.

He knows what you like, you prefer when he keeps his cock buried in your cunt as you cum instead of fucking you through it. It makes everything better, perfectly stuffed and stretched as you pull him inside, muscles tightening with each wave of pleasure.

He waits for you to come back down, letting you fall limp as he picks up the pace fucking you quick in a half dozen hard thrusts before he cums with a series grunts and groans as he fills your pussy, spilling thick and warm until you feel his seed leaking over your ass.

“Fuck,” he groans, collapsing on top of you.

You wrap yourself around him, holding him tight while he’s still inside you. The first time he tries to pull away you don’t let him so he settles between your hips and you kiss and touch each other until you finally release him.

Rolling off you he lies on his back, breath quick with one hand on his chest.

Everything is sticky, not just the mess between your legs but every inch of your skin is covered in sweat, most of it his. It feels claustrophobic, a rising crescendo emerging from somewhere deep inside. It starts as panic in your gut but twists into something else, an overwhelming sadness. An instant snapshot of your own mortality.

You almost died. Other people did. You were this close. So close.

All you can think about is the vast nothingness of not existing. The concept of simply being snuffed out is overwhelming and terrifying. You want to think about Sam, this new stage of your complicated relationship. You’re desperate to focus on the man lying beside you, the person you’ve missed for months who’s just confessed his feelings for you. But all you see in front of your open eyes is the image of Brent with that gun.

An unexpected sob tears from your throat and you slap a hand over your mouth in surprise. Sam actually jumps, jerking up into a sitting position as you wail, suddenly in hysterics. The panic returns, tightening your chest as your vision blurs and you roll onto your side, curling into a ball.

“Hey,’ his hand is hesitant, patting your hip. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you blubber, body shaking like a leaf. “I just feel...everything. I can’t breathe.”

“You’re in shock,” he speaks calmly from somewhere above you. He touches you with fleeting hands, out of practice with a gentle touch. “I should have taken you to the hospital. We can go-”

“No,” you sob, reaching out for him. “Just stay here with me. Don’t leave.”

You cling to him, burrowing into his neck as he lies back. His arm hesitating before wrapping around you. This is arguably the most intimate you’ve ever been with each other and it’s the truest test so far. You don’t need a doctor, you need something to ground you, make you feel safe.

And right on cue Sam fills the need as if you’d told him what to do.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispers, a big hand stroking up and down your back. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“People died,” you close your eyes, pressing your nose over his rough five o'clock shadow. “I almost died.”

“But you didn’t.” He reaches down, pulling the blanket up over you both. “And you’re not going to, not for a long time.”

“Are you sure you want this?” You ask softly, fingers curling into the sparse hair of his chest. “All I can think is that you’re going to walk away again.”

“I won't,” he breathes, both arms tightening around you. “Try not to worry about that now. There’s going to be plenty of time for us to talk about this. Just close your eyes and try to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You stare across the room at the open door of his closet, listening to his heartbeat.

“Everything is going to be different now,” you whisper.

“I know,” he murmurs, already on the verge of sleep. “That’s how we move forward.”

[bex-la-get]

50. Putting a hand over the other's mouth to shut them up and 10. Spooning at night for Ethan x Nat ❤️

These two are so cute! Thanks for the ask, Nonny! From this ask list.

Ethan's mind was racing.

After several pregnancy tests, he and Nat had learned that she was pregnant with their third child. One they had not planned on, but one that was very welcome. But there was one teeny tiny problem: the apartment didn’t really have space for a third baby. They had gotten a bigger apartment after Noah had been born and when Evie came along, it was the perfect size for the four of them. But with a third baby, there would grow out of the space, fast. 

Ethan ran through some options in his head: they could maneuver some stuff in the apartment to make room for baby 3... but that wasn’t really much of a long term plan. They could also move to a building with bigger apartment spaces; it would certainly be a feasible option... but with strollers and baby carriers, that seemed a bit cumbersome. 

Then, he thought of an option that actually made the most sense and voiced it aloud. “Hey, Nat?”

“Hm?” Nat asked, from next to him on the bed. She was currently Googling baby names and making a list of the ones she liked best. He glanced down at her list and saw that she had circled the name “Lydia” as a potential girl’s name. Lydia Ramsey. Huh; that had a really nice ring to it.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of his straying thoughts. “Should we buy a house?”

Natalie looked up from her phone. “A house? Like a house house?” Ethan nodded and Nat raised her eyebrows. “Hm... I suppose we could. It wouldn’t be a bad idea, actually. What brought this on?”

“I was just thinking that, with the baby, we’re gonna be kind of tight on space. And, yeah, we could just get a bigger apartment but... I feel like a house would benefit all of us, you know? We could have a yard for Jenner, the kids could have a proper play room, and we could possibly even have a garage. There’s a lot more freedom with a house. But it’s not something we have to decide right away, we have time to think about it, of course. We’d also have to figure out what kind of house we want, where we’d want to live, and--”

Nat cut him off by placing a hand over his mouth and smiled. “Baby, I think it’s a great idea. I love the apartment but... I’d be lying if I said I also hadn’t thought of buying a house. Somewhere the kids can grow up and grow into. Somewhere we can old in. Some place with a big backyard with a hammock and large living space for holidays. It’s one of my favorite daydreams.”

She lowered her hand to find Ethan smiling at her. “Why hadn’t you ever said?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I always figured we’d get around to it. There wasn’t ever really a sense of urgency with the idea... until now, of course.”

He chuckled. “Okay; then, we’ll make a list of things we want in the morning and call a realtor.”

“I’ll give my mom a call in the morning too,” Nat said. “She’s got a few friends here in Boston who could help us out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ethan agreed.

“Good.” Nat placed her phone and her list on the bedside table, turned off the lamp, and smiled at her husband. “Now, come here. Your pregnant wife wants to be cuddled.”

Ethan laughed and the two adjusted themselves in bed until they were spooned together, under the covers. Ethan wrapped his arms tightly around his wife and kissed her temple. “Hey, Nat.”

“Mm?”

“I really like the name Lydia.”

He didn’t have to see Nat’s face to know she was smiling. “Me too.”

Tag list below the cut:

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @paulfwesley @ethansdique @openheartfanfics @perriewinklenerdie @little-flowers-on-heaven @stateofgracious @coffeeheartaddict @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @mm2305 @gryffindordaughterofathena @actuallybored @writer-ish @queencarb @takeharryandgo @lsvdw-blog @itsjustwinter @chaoticchopshopheart @ohchoices @maurine07 @oldminniemcg @parisa-kh @shanzay44 @uberamsey @izzyourresidentlawyer @adiehardfan @custaroonie @mia143 @a-crepusculo @takemyopenheart @toadfrog26 @quixoticdreamer16 @barbean @headoverheelsforramsey @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @crazy-loca-blog @dorisz @thegreentwin​ @cryomyst @kalinahonore

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

Boston Boys [Part Five]

Summary:  Chris trails Elsa to find out if the crew is safe or not. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1720 Chapter Warnings: Angst, lying. After-effects of bank robbery/kidnapping. No John in this chapter.  A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

Elsa rolled her eyes as she looked through the fridge, deciding which leftovers would make the best supper. She had some time off from the bank to recover from her injuries, physical and otherwise, but that didn’t mean she had wanted to use any of her last few free days to do anything but cry or sleep. When she finally was able to pull herself out of bed and into the shower, she realized she needed to get in touch with her family and let them know about the robbery before it hit the news and got back to New York. Now, here she was on the phone with her mother; though she had reached her father first, Caleb Chapman quickly passed the phone over to his wife while he got in touch with a lawyer to make sure Elsa was protected against being pressured into any kind of questioning or other participation by the police. Margaret was on and on about how she knew something like this would happen, and Elsa should come back to New York right away.

“Something like this could have happened just as easily in Manhattan,” Elsa sighed, “there are a million banks across the country, I just happen to work at one that got hit. I’m all right, by the way, thanks for asking. MassGen has some really great doctors.”

Margaret huffed into the phone. “I figured if you weren’t fine, Elsa, you would have called sooner. But what if it happens again? What if you’re not fine?”

“I’m not going to be at the bank forever. The chances of this happening again are slim to none. Listen, I just wanted you both to hear this from me and not through the news. I’m fine, I don’t have to go back to the bank until next week.”

She closed the refrigerator door and realized she was going to need to go to the grocery store if she planned to eat any time soon. She rushed her mother off the phone and got herself presentable to do some shopping. Forgoing a list, she walked to the nearest grocery and found a cart.

After produce, she headed for canned goods. A can of corn on the top shelf was giving her particular trouble. Elsa could stand on the bottom shelf and reach it, but looking up made her head spin. An after effect of the concussion, she assumed, but that one small problem brought a million images of the bank robbery back to her.

She stood in front of the canned vegetables, willing herself not to cry. She stared straight ahead in an effort to regain her equilibrium, but not looking around meant there was nothing she could do but think about the yelling and the guns and the kidnapping.

“Can I help you reach something?”

Elsa turned too fast toward the person offering to help and nearly lost her balance. He reached out to grip her shoulders and keep her upright.

“Hey, hey, you okay?”

Elsa looked up and caught a set of very pretty blue eyes, framed by a handsome face and brown hair. As they both straightened up, she realized how tall he was. And athletic. Now her head was spinning, but not from the concussion. She sniffled and leaned against the shelf for support.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I have a concussion, I was trying to reach for the corn on the top shelf, it made me dizzy, then I remembered everything that happened surrounding the concussion … I’m sorry. Now I’m rambling on to you about all of this.”

He reached up to the top shelf, retrieved two cans of corn, and placed them in her cart. He turned back to her and extended his hand.

“I’m Chris.”

Elsa smiled shyly and slipped her hand into his. It wasn’t so much of a handshake as it was him taking her hand in an attempt at comfort.

“Elsa.”

Chris nodded, his eyes roaming over her. She was suddenly very conscious of her appearance, but Chris didn’t seem turned off in the least.

“Nice to meet you. Listen, I only came here to get a couple of things. Why don’t you let me trail you while you finish, I’ll reach all the high stuff, and then I’ll take you for coffee.”

It wasn’t a question, and Elsa liked that about him. He was so sure, so confident — two things she was severely lacking at the moment. Her balance seemed to have returned, so she took him up on his offer. The last few days had been pretty shitty, but maybe things were looking up now.

Chris trailed Elsa around the store, making small talk and asking her questions about herself. He figured if she was going to make him, it would have happened the second she spotted him in that grocery store aisle. She didn’t mention anything about the circumstances of her concussion, but he attributed that more to the trauma than to Elsa connecting him to the trauma itself.

Once they were out of the grocery store, they walked to her apartment building. He waited on the sidewalk while she put her cold things away. She came back down within a few minutes, recovered from her small breakdown at the grocery store and just glowing. Chris hadn’t been thinking about things like pretty girls when the robbery happened -- then, it was just about getting the job down and getting out. The longer he looked at her, the worse he felt about the robbery.

Soon after arriving at the coffee shop, they were seated; Chris with a black cuppa and Elsa with a cup of tea with lemon and honey. She sat with her back to the wall, watching the door carefully and so tense, Chris wondered what she was waiting for.

“Expecting someone else?” he asked.

Elsa shook her head slowly and apologized. “I’m paranoid, is all.”

Chris frowned. “Any reason why?”

Her eyes glazed over again but she didn’t actually cry. “I don’t want to trouble you with my troubles. But thank you for asking.”

Acting on instinct, Chris reached over and covered her hand with his. “I wanna know. You’re not troubling me.”

She took a deep breath and considered him before sipping at her tea and leaning back in her chair. “I work for Boston Private. A few days ago, there was a robbery. They came in masks and they had guns. The code is sent to a different teller every day, and that day, I had the code. I did what they asked, I opened the safe, but someone pressed the alarm. They thought it was me, one of them shoved me into their van. Tied my hands behind me, blindfolded and gagged me. I don’t know how long we were in the van, but they dropped me on a curb. One of them, he told me I was going to be okay, that no one was going to hurt me. He told me to sing my favorite song, and then take the blindfold off. So, I did, and then I managed to nudge the blindfold and gag away from my face, and I screamed for my life.”

Chris was suddenly seeing the whole thing happen from her side of the robbery. He knew they had hurt her, but this … his heart was breaking and he was nearly sick to his stomach. He said the only thing he could think to say.

“What song did you sing?”

“‘Hey Jude’,” Elsa whispered. She cleared her throat and took another drink of her tea. “My dad used to take me to his office downtown when I was a kid and had days off of school. The mornings were always quiet, but in the afternoon, when he really got going, he would hum it or sing it. I listened to that song for years before I actually heard The Beatles sing it.”

Chris gave her half a smile. “Classic. I’m sorry that happened, Elsa.”

She chuckled and shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault, but thank you. You know, this is the first time I’ve left my place since I got home from the hospital that day. You’re brave to be seen in public with me while I’ve still got these stitches.”

“You’re beautiful,” Chris assured, putting every bit of confidence into the statement. “And if you told me all of that to scare me off, it didn’t work. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Elsa’s cheeks turned a brilliant pink, a perfect hue that excellently complimented her brown eyes. “You want to have dinner with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’d really like that.”

“Great. Pick you up in front of your place at seven?”

“I’ll be ready and waiting,” she promised.

“Good.”

They finished their drinks with lighter conversation, reaffirmed their date for the next night, and then parted ways.

Back at the barber shop, the entire crew was anxiously waiting for Chris to return. Scarlett had been the first to jump at the chance to tail Elsa and figure out if she was talking to the cops, if she would recognize them around the neighborhood. Thing was, Scar wasn’t the best with girl talk anyway, and Chris didn’t trust her to act responsibly if Elsa at all hinted at speaking to the cops and/or recognizing Scarlett. If she recognized Scarlett, surely she would recognize the rest of them.

“We’re in the clear,” Chris announced, as soon as Shanna and Carly were out of earshot. Seb, Scar, and Scotty all breathed a sigh of relief. They made an agreement not to take a hostage again, no matter what, and moved on to their customers.

He wondered if he should mention that he was going to continue seeing Elsa, but decided for the time being it was better not to say anything. Maybe things wouldn’t even go past the first date; furthermore, he wasn’t going to risk a scene in the middle of the shop in front of his sisters. He would concentrate on the shop for a while, maybe find a place on his own, move out of the place he was currently sharing with Scotty and Seb.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, his mind warned him. Chris didn’t listen. Elsa already had him thinking about the possibilities.

Tags: @themtbmbgirl​​ @keithseabrook27​​ @ulovemelightsout​​ @rosie2801​​ @professorkrasinski​​ 

[fanfictionaries]

Love and Academia Ch. 3 - Dream Homes and Disloyalty

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide

Author’s note: We get a nice little look into Bucky’s perspective this week. Also because this is an AU and I am the God on the worlds I create, Steve has a big family and he’s from the midwest. I just want him to be a happy little farm boy! 

And as always, I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. it’s just little ol’ me!

***

Bucky’s feet hit the ground. Left, right, left, right. He was on the final mile of his morning run. Usually by this time he’d be well into his runner’s high, feeling great as he finished off his fifth mile, but today it was like each step made him weaker and slower. His legs cut through the air like a knife cutting through frozen butter. He thought about stopping, just giving up and calling that day’s run short, but a yip at his side and the brush of a cold nose on his calf eliminated the idea immediately. Trixie, his border collie, would be an energetic wreck all day if she didn’t get her full five miles. So, he pushed through, finally slowing to a walk when he’d fully completed his run.

“There, ya happy?” Bucky asked, looking down at his dog. Trixie looked up at her owner briefly, tail wagging, tongue hanging from her mouth, and looking as pleased as ever as she padded beside him. He held her leash loosely in his hand as Trixie led the way towards their new house. Their new home.

It was a red brick Victorian style home nestled on a quiet back street. It’s deep green door, white trim, and beautiful garden of roses and irises held a certain charm. The garden had been the main selling point for him and Diane. Diane had been so taken by the white picket fence in the front yard, with the ivy-colored trellis framing the walkway to the front door. She insisted they put in an offer straight away, even though they weren’t planning on moving for another year. Bucky had called her crazy, saying that it was insane for them to pay both rent in Brooklyn and a mortgage in Idaho. But she had reasoned that with both of their jobs and their minor expenses they could easily afford it and it was a small price to pay for their dream home.

“You mean your dream home?” Bucky laughed.

“It’s not your dream home?” Diane asked, slightly crestfallen at the realization.

“Your dream is my dream,” Bucky said, and it was true. His dream was her and therefore whatever her dream was, was his as well.

But now as he treaded across the loose boards on the front porch to unlock the door that stuck, he cursed her for making this their dream. Opening the door and crossing the threshold, he unhooked Trixie’s leash and placed his keys on the table next to the front door. Trixie, apparently wiped from their run, laid on her bed across the living room and promptly fell asleep. Bucky reached for the remote and turned on the TV, skimming through the channels until he got the local news, and then settled into the rest of his workout. It was always the same: sit ups, pushups, pull ups, repeat. The same simple routine helping to bring him clarity. Something he needed a lot of these days.

The decision to leave Brooklyn had been his idea. His contract with NYU was coming to an end, and he just kept feeling like he needed a change. He’d called Brooklyn home his entire life. Despite his short time away for undergrad at Boston University, he’d been born in Brooklyn, grown up in the streets of Brooklyn with his brothers, gotten his PhD at NYU, gotten his first teaching position there, met Diane there. But he was growing restless of the same old story. Diane, thankfully, agreed. She, being from Montana, enjoyed her time on the east side of the country, but was ready to be closer to home.

Bucky had just finished his last set when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Not even thinking, he reached for it and pressed the green call button.

“So, he finally answers,” Steve boomed from the other end. Bucky sighed inwardly; he’d been avoiding Steve all week since they’d last seen each other at the bar.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“Oh, you know, I was just wondering if I could actually see my best friend and catch up with him finally. Or will I have to wait another six years?”

“Alright, alright, message received jerk. Why don’t we grab coffee this morning? I’m headed into the office a little later and I have time before then,” Bucky said, feeling guilty for not making it up to Steve for completely bailing on their guys night last week. Steve laughed and agreed, throwing out a time and place before ending the call.

Bucky showered before dressing in a pair of jeans and white t-shirt. He brushed his wet hair and contemplated trimming his beard before saying ‘fuck it’ and walking out of the bathroom. Making his way down the stairs, he was halfway down when a step gave under his foot. With a loud crack, the wood split in two and he was ankle deep in pain and frustration.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Bucky pulled his foot from the hole and continued walking down the stairs gingerly. Pulling up his pant leg, he assessed that there was minimal damage, and proceeded to grab his wallet, keys, and phone from the coffee table. He crouched down by Trixie’s bed and gave her a scratch behind the ear.

“I’ll be back later girl,” Bucky said. Trixie nuzzled his palm with her nose before giving it a kiss and laying her head back down on her bed.

Fifteen minutes later and Bucky was seated at a table in a small coffee shop, ice coffee in hand, with Steve sat across from him.

“It’s good to see you man. Really good,” Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning back in his seat.

“I know, it really is. Tell me again why you moved all the way out here after college?” Bucky asked, rubbing a bead of condensation away from the side of his cup.

“Oh, you know me. Boston was fun but after four years I was done with the big city. It’s not home, but most of my family isn’t even in Minnesota anymore anyways.”

“And you’re liking it here so far?”

“Oh, I love it. My parents are here, so is my sister Mary. Mike’s still in Bloomington, but him and the wife have been talking about moving down here too. You know us Rogers—can’t stay apart for too long. We always end up finding our way back together,” Steve chuckled.

“Yea, you are a dysfunctional bunch, aren’t you,” Bucky teased.

“Oh please, I’ve met the Barnes family several times. How many times has your mom called you?”

“Today or in the last week?” Bucky laughed, thinking about how his mom had called him at least three times a day for the past month he had been in Idaho.

“Mary still seeing that finance guy?” Bucky asked, trying to remember the small details Steve had dropped about his family over the years through their phone calls.

“Oh Doug? God no. No, he turned out to be a real piece of shit…why? You interested?” Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

“You seriously trying to set me up with your sister man?”

“Hey—" Steve held his hands up in defense “—I’m just saying. She’s always had a bit of a thing for you.”

“Well, that’s certainly news to me, but I’m not exactly single Steve,” Bucky sighed.

“I thought you said Diane said—”

“Yea, I know what she said but it doesn’t really mean I agree with it. That was her idea, not mine.”

“So, the other night at the bar?”

“Was a mistake. Besides, nothing really happened.”

Steve looked skeptical, “She seemed pretty upset right before she left. You sure nothing really happened?”

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing. I’m just worried about you.”

There was a long silence as they sat there. Bucky refusing to look at Steve. Steve refusing to look away from Bucky. Bucky had felt guilty that night with Emily. He truly had. Diane’s words had run through his head that night over and over again. He thought that if he had kept it impersonal, maybe he could do it. With Diane not there, he was lonely and god, he had been wildly attracted to Emily. Probably more than he liked to admit. But no matter what Diane said, when it came down to it, it still felt like a betrayal.

“Well, at least something good came out of that night,” Bucky stated, steering the conversation in another direction.

“Oh yea? What?”

“I’m assuming you went home with her friend, yea?”

At the mention of Natasha, Steve’s face went bright red and he coughed into his hand, “We uh, no we didn’t. She wanted to but…”

“You said no?” Bucky asked shocked.

“Yea, well you know me. I’m a bit old fashioned. I want to take a girl out on an actual date before we—”

“Fuck each other’s brains out?”

“Something like that—" Steve smirked into his coffee cup, “—I’m taking her out for dinner tomorrow actually.”

Bucky smiled at Steve, his best friend looking bashful but excited, “Gonna’ show her the ol’ Steve Rogers’ charm?”

“I’m just hoping I don’t make a fool of myself. It’s been a while since I went out on a date. You know, what with me and Peggie splitting and she’s…very confident. She definitely knows what she wants,” Steve admitted.

“Oh, you’re for sure going to make a fool of yourself, but I don’t think that’ll hurt your chances.”

Bucky laughed as Steve reached across the table and tried to punch him in the arm.

“Jerk,” Steve said, smiling the whole time. They talked for a while longer, Bucky asking about Steve’s family and Steve doing the same. They talked about mutual friends and what they were up to. About an hour had passed when Steve asked about Bucky’s new job.

“So, when do you start your new gig?”

“This coming Monday. I was actually going to stop by today and take care of paperwork, maybe check out my new office,” Bucky said, draining the last of his coffee.

“Well, I won’t keep you from that. I should probably get going. I’ve got to head to the gym and then get home and get some stuff done.”

They stood and said their goodbyes, promising to hang out again soon before exiting the coffee shop and getting in their cars. It was a short drive from there to the university. The red brick and lush green trees reminding Bucky of home. However, stepping out of his truck, the dry heat was a pleasant reminder that this place was definitely not humid, sticky Brooklyn in August. Locking his car behind him in the visitor’s parking lot, he walked casually towards the Life Science’s building. He admired the landscaping as he walked, always finding humor in how every university seemed to try and make their campus as pretty as possible right before school started. A nicer grounds always did well for visiting prospective students, parents dropping off their children for their first year, and returning students who wanted a reason to stay.

The Life Science’s building was definitely older than some of the other buildings on campus, but that didn’t both him too much. He climbed the stairs, old linoleum steps peeling and cracking as he double checked the office number on his phone. Room 439. As he neared the room tucked back into a corner of the floor, he began to hear music. Gradually it increased in volume, a punky beat from a band that he recognized. It became clear that the music was coming from room 439 when he entered through the front door. Looking around he saw an older lab, boxes piled high and lab equipment strewn about haphazardly. The music was coming from the office within the lab, this time though, he could hear a voice singing along to it. It was loud, raspy, and overall offkey. Maybe he had the wrong room number? He walked towards the office, hoping to ask whoever was in there for some help finding the right place. Inside was a young woman dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and t-shirt. He watched in amusement as she danced to the music, obviously under the impression that she was alone as her hips wiggled and head bopped side to side.

“Um, excuse me. I think this is my office,” he called over the music, feeling bad that he was probably going to embarrass the girl. She jumped at his voice and when she whipped around the ground fell out from underneath him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. Anger, for some reason, being his initial reaction to seeing Emily standing in what was supposed to be his office. Emily, a woman who had told him that she was a bartender. Emily, a woman he had almost hooked up with and then snubbed very dickishly at a bar about a week ago.

She seemed pretty upset right before she left. Steve’s words rang in his mind.

[tcswritings]

MASTER DUMP.

Just a whole lot of very rough scribbles that were in my drafts. Some are lengthy, some are very short, some are super old (and partly outdated), others are somewhat recent but they all got one thing in common - I probably won’t go back to them, at least not any time soon. I really just wanna clear my drafts for now, and hey, why not share these bits? I kind of enjoy them anyway after all. xD

***

I. Untitled

(Declan tries to talk to Mick during the time of their big fight.)

***

“This is so stupid, man. We'll keep crossin’ paths after all, whether you like it or not and you don’t really wanna keep this up for all eternity, do you?” Declan asked, crossing his arms while he and the others watched Ryan unpacking the next box.

“Why are you talkin’ to me?” Mick mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. He didn’t even bother to look at Declan.

“This is bullshit, Mick!”

Mick merely took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focussing on Ryan instead who currently struggled with the wrapping of his gift.

“I mean, I know you love actin’ like a petulant lil’ arsewipe but you could as well as just use that energy to try and forgive me?”

“Do me a favour and drop dead.”

“In sixty years, maybe. You’re gonna have to put up with me for a few more years, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys! Shhh!” Jessie hissed at her two fighting friends.

*****

“Can you please tell me what’s so funny?” The least Declan expected from Lauren was a laughing fit.

“I’m sorry!” she chuckled, doing her best to pull herself together. “It’s nothin’ personal, just the thought of my son’s father and his best friend - two grown up men - bitchin’ at each other like sum’ pre-teens would.”

____________________

II. Untitled

(Charlie and Kieran and that one evening in the O’Leary’s.)

It’s Summer 2016 and Charlie realises that her feelings for Kieran have taken a somewhat different turn as she finds herself smitten with him when they have a talk at her favourite pub in Boston.

*****

He looked thinner than the last time she had seen him, and he looked worn-out and very tired.

Not the kind of tired that a few hours of a good night’s sleep could fix, but the kind of tired that someone who had seen and endured too much within a short time would look like, someone who was silently suffering and who was bad at taking care of it.

When Charlie had met Kieran O’Connell for the first time a little more than six years ago, he had acted like an unnecessarily rude brat and there was no other way to put it. He had the questionable charm of a guy who was well aware of his good looks and who knew he was quite the catch, so to say, and she could still remember his overly confident swagger, the arrogant look on his face, his deep and penetrating voice as well as how his pale blue eyes had pierced hers when he had looked into her face for the very first time.

Despite his rudeness (and the apparent lack of manners), Charlie had thought of Kieran as a force of nature from the very beginning and it turned out that she was right - once she got to know him a little better, it became more and more obvious to her that he was actually a very passionate and spirited guy with a heart as big as the entire world and that had impressed her so much more than his cocky behaviour and she couldn’t help but grow really fond of him over the years.

Not much was left of the cocky and lively guy today, though, and while it ached Charlie to see her friend in pain - he tried his best to cover it up but he couldn’t hide it - she had felt a strange wave of affection overwhelming her right in the moment they had greeted each other with a heartfelt hug. There was sympathy, of course, but it was mixed with something else and it took her a little while to figure the feeling out.

Charlie was nervous. Anticipating. And she had been ever since they had sat down at one of the tables. Charlie had been listening closely and her heart ached for him and yet she couldn’t help but notice a little spark despite the gloomy subject. There was nothing in this world she wanted more in this moment than to be close to him and to fix the things going wrong in his life so he would smile at her again, like he always had.

“I just wish there was something I could say.” Charlie sighed. “I don’t have too much to offer aside from ‘I know how it feels.’”

“Y’ do?”

“Yeah.” she nodded. “I lost my aunt when I was 15.”

“That’s rough. You never told me about it.”

“Yeah, it’s not really a subject to keep a mood up, right?”

“Fair enough.” Kieran laughed. “What happened to your aunt?”

“Well, to be fair, she wasn’t really my aunt, not by blood at least. She was the wife of my dad’s best friend.”

“Blood or no blood, it no longer matters after a while.” Kieran said with a faint smile. “How did she die?”

“Same. Car crash. She had her little daughter with her, they both died. She was only 31, her daughter was three.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, it was. And it wasn’t even just the pain of losing them, y’know? Seeing dad hurt, seeing Adrian hurt - all of a sudden, our entire life was nothing but sadness and grief.”

Kieran let out a dry chuckle. “I know what y’ mean. Watching Ma and Pa, and also my siblings, is the worst. Like a punch to the guts. I try to come an’ see them as often as I can these days but truth is that I dread it every damn time. Sometimes it’s - I dunno. It’s-”

“Too much?”

“Too much.” Kieran nodded. “I mean, how do you even comfort the people who have raised you? What do you tell ‘em? That it’s gonna be alright? I don’t know what losing a child feels like. Gave ‘em nothin’ but grief myself for the better part of my life, I just don’t know what to do or say most of the time.”

“Do you think you have to do or say something?”

“Yeah, it’s what I think. It’s what I think any damn time I’m at home, any time my sister looks at me with her big sad eyes, like she’s at a loss at how t’ move on and any time my brother snaps at us, somethin’ he’s never done before, not like that at least. Someone has to keep this fuckin’ bunch from fallin’ apart after all-”

Kieran fell quiet as Charlie reached over the table and took his hand. It was a spontaneous reaction and Charlie already feared that she could come across as intrusive but Kieran didn’t even flinch at the gesture. He even closed his hand around hers. She squeezed it a little and a few moments later she could tell that he was starting to relax.

“I‘m sorry. Fuckin’ nerves.” he smiled.

“Couldn’t tell.” Charlie smiled back. “Relax. Breathe. You’re here for vacation. You can go back to saving your folks once you charged up.”

“I dunno, I think it takes a lot more to charge up than a few weeks away from home. Actually, I even feel like I’m running away.”

“No. It’s good you’re here. And maybe you won’t charge up right away, but you can get your mind off things for a little while. You gotta do that, y’know?”

“You think so, eh?”

“Yes, I do, and it has nothing to do with running away. You gotta take care of yourself every once in a while.” Charlie squeezed Kieran’s hand once more.

“You’re cute.”

“Well, it’s obvious that you’re not really good at taking care of yourself so I’m just trying to be the person who does it until you learn it.” Charlie cocked her head and smiled at him.

Returning the smile, Kieran brushed a strand of dark hair out of his face with his free hand. He looked at Charlie for a few more moments before he gently pulled his hand back, adjusting himself and looking around the pub. “Alright, how ‘bout we order a jug of ale, get roaring drunk and we’ll go wherever you wanna go?”

“I don’t do ‘roaring drunk’ too well.” Charlie chuckled, suddenly remembering the first and only time he had seen her in that exact state.

“Me neither. We’re already halfway there, though, and we’ll be fine, c’mon.”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m nowhere near roaring drunk and neither are you?”

“We could be. Anything you want, love. Let’s get our minds off things, as you put it.”

Charlie couldn’t tell what exactly caused the flutter in her stomach - the little spark in Kieran’s eyes as well as his playful smile or the term of affection. He had addressed her like that before but it meant more today than it ever had before and she felt herself all too willing to respond.

(...)

____________________ 

III. Untitled

(Orla yells at Mick for getting married in a fever.)

***

“You. WHAT?”

Orla’s outcry was followed by the distinct noise of shattering glass, causing Mick to flinch and jump back a little. He looked at the mess at his feet and then back at Orla who merely stared at him, her eyes wide, before she looked to the ground and slowly took a crouching position, proceeding to swipe the little shards together with her bare hands.

Mick could see that she was trembling and hunkered down as well. “Be careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” he said, but Orla merely batted Mick’s hand away as he tried to keep her from touching the glass.

“NO, don’t touch me!”

“Orla-”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t do what I think you just said you did!” Orla’s voice cracked.

“Orla, there’s no need to freak out-”

“You can’t be married!?”

“I am, I jus' told you!”

“Oh my god.” Orla closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Still in her squatting position, she propped up her elbow on her knee, wiping her face with her hand and eventually pinching the bridge of her nose with her finger and her thumb.

Mick raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a bit dramatic right now?”

"Shut up!” she hissed back at him. “Don’t you dare calling me dramatic!"

“Aye, sorry, I-”

“Are you out of your mind? I mean, more than usual?!"

Mick ignored the little remark. “I don’t even know why you’re makin’ such a big deal of it-”

“Because it is a big deal! It is a Big. Fucking. Deal, Mick! You got married!” She glared at him and realised that she still had a few shards of glass in her left hand. “Ah, fuck this!” she hissed, tossed the few shards to the ground and stood up again, eventually stomping out of the room.

Mick looked after her for a few moments. Granted, he hadn’t really expected Orla to be thrilled, but he hadn’t expected her to be so furious either. Feeling a little helpless, he bit his lip, before he stood up as well and followed her into her living room. When he opened the door, he almost bumped into her. Orla swiftly turned around on the spot.

“Orla, c’mon, let’s just-”

She cut him off once more. “I don’t believe this, Mick. You come here and tell me that you just got married to this total nutcase-”

“Oi, watch it!”

“- and expect me to be, what exactly?! To be cool with it? Like it’s no big deal at all, like it’s the most natural thing ever that my best friend disappears for a weekend and comes home married, to a woman he hardly knows, without letting any of us know-”

“Orla, what the fuck is your problem?”

“You! You are my problem! For years I was the one,” - Orla pointed at herself - “who always stood up for you when anyone called you stupid or idiotic and whatnot but it’s true. They’re all right, you are an idiot and you have always been!”

Mick let out a little laugh as he now faced Orla, his eyes narrowing. “Is that all y’ have to say? That I’m an idiot?”

“Well, you must be!” Orla went on. “The only other explanation I have for this bullshit is that she must do some really amazing things in the bedroom. Does she?”

Mick let out another laugh but it wasn’t a friendly one. “Fuck this, I don’t need to justify myself.”

“No, of course you don’t. Go off, be happy, do what you want. You never cared about filling me in about this but hey, as your best friend I couldn’t be happier for you!” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“How many times do I have to tell you that-”

“- that it was a spontaneous thing? Oh, don’t worry, I got that!”

“Orla-” Mick tried again after a few moments of silence, his voice soft, but Orla wasn‘t done yet.

“I mean, it is not quite what I meant when I told you a while ago that you need to work on being more spontaneous again. You could’ve started by, dunno, going on a road trip or buying a new couch or gettin’ Sasha a friend but hey, why not marry a woman you have known for six minutes? You exceeded my expectations, congratulations!”

All of a sudden, a thought crossed Orla’s mind and as it did, her heart skipped a beat and she could feel the colour rushing from her face. “Oh dear lord. She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Mick now closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh god, oh my fuckin’ god.”

“Answer me!” Orla spat out.

“I dunno!” he shot back.

“Wrong answer!”

Mick groaned. “I mean, I don’t think so, no?! Even if she was, it wasn’t the reason why we did this.”

“Oh my god, I would even get that, considering how you were raised and-”

“Shut up! Just shut. up!” Mick eventually interrupted her harshly. He was done being patient. “Stop psychoanalysing me, stop buggin’ me, stop doin’ whatever y’ doin’. You insulted me in every possible way within the last ten minutes and I don’t need that shit from you, not from you!”

“Well, did you expect me to be happy for you? Like you didn’t just ruin your entire life?”

“I didn’t ruin my life and no, I didn’t expect that.” Mick replied wearily. “I dunno what I expected, I just didn’t think y’ would be that much of an arsehole about everything.”

“I am not being an arsehole-”

“You’re bein’ the worst arsehole I’ve ever known right now and I’m done talkin’ about this unless you tell me what the real problem is.”

“I don’t have a problem?”

“You most certainly do. And I wanna know what it is, goddammit.”

“You’re throwing your life away for a woman you hardly know! You keep falling for all those wacko women who are terrible for you and it’s beyond me how you fail to see that-”

“Wait, just so I get this right... you can date whomever you want, for as  long or short as you want, no matter how much of a fuckwad the guy is, but once I pick someone, I need your approval?”

“That is not what I’m saying.” Orla groaned and rolled her eyes.

“So what are y’ sayin’ then?”

Orla blinked and took a breath as she put her hands to her hips, shooting Mick a harsh look.

“Has  it ever occurred to you that you make the worst choices, Mick? That  you’re complete and utter shit at getting your damn life together? You just outdid yourself! First Leila-”

“That was different-”

“-and now Mina. Why can’t you just pick a nice and stable one for once? Why can’t you just-”

“Stay alone so I can be your last resort?”

Startled, Orla looked at Mick, her lips parted in shock.

“What did you just say?” she whispered.

“I dunno, I’m merely gettin’ the impression that you like keepin’ me on a short leash but once I go off and do my own thing-”

“You have some nerve-”

“Obviously hit a nerve.” Mick mumbled.

“You’re so full of shit! Why would I want to keep you as a last resort? What kinda fucked up thought is that even? You’re my best friend!”

“Hell yes, I am, and I wouldn’t want it any other way but right now y’ bein’ the world’s worst bitch-”

“HEY!”

“And don‘t tell me that you wouldn’t have ran off with that fuckin’ Australian if he’d asked you to.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’m glad I didn’t. All relationships start out great, you know that, but things can blow up so quickly. Even worse, sometimes one part just runs away when nothing at all happened, just like James did.”

“Just like you did.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You ran away from me, just like that.”

“Oh my god, why are you bringing up age old stories again?”

Mick ignored the question. “Y’know what? I don’t even care. I care about makin’ this work, I can do that all by myself and I don’ need your support anyway. How about y’ just leave me be, alright?”

____________________ 

IV. Untitled

(Declan and Lauren face some unexpected trials of life.)

***

September 2014

“What about Marshall?”

“What, like the guy from that terrible sitcom?”

“Nah, like the amplifiers. Or, y’know, like Jimi Hendrix’s middle name.”

Lauren pursed her lips as she pondered the suggestion for a few moments. She eventually shook her head. “Don’t think so, no.”

“Aw, c’mon, why not? It sounds badass.”

“But I will know that the poor baby was named after either a drug addict or a huge black... block. Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Just think about this, though: he’ll love us for the name when he eventually becomes a guitarist?”

“We don’t even know if he’s a he, Dec. Let alone whether he becomes a guitarist.”

“Come on. ‘Course it’s gonna be a boy. I mean, “ Declan shrugged, “two brothers, two nephews? We have strong genes.”

“Dear lord, no, I really don’t wanna raise a... you.” Lauren groaned as she leaned back against the wall, struggling to find a comfortable position. She was in the eighth month of her pregnancy and some things became a little tricky - such as finding resting positions that didn’t leave her sore or in pain after ten or less minutes.

“Aw, will you ever stop pretending that you can’t stand me? I mean, we both know how that came to be?” Declan gently patted Lauren’s belly before he reached over to grab one of the pillows that were piled up next to the little cupboard that he had helped her build up earlier. “C’mon, take that. You probably shouldn’t be sitting on the floor anyway, eh?”

“Ugh, it no longer makes a difference anyway. I feel and look like a whale, everything hurts and nothing is comfortable anymore. Not ever.”

As he put the pillow behind Lauren’s back, trying to make sure that she felt at least a little more comfy, Declan grimaced. He felt pretty guilty all of a sudden. “... sorry you feel like that.”

“That, uhm, was actually the part when you were to say ‘You don’t look like a whale, Lauren!’, y’know.”

“Ah, shit.” Declan laughed. “You don’t look like a whale, Lauren!”

“You’re a horrible liar but, y’know, points for trying and such.” Lauren smiled back. “It’s alright, I’m kidding, don’t worry. Looking like a whale is kinda like my least problem these days.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay. Can I be completely honest for a second?”

“Sure.”

Lauren took a heavy breath. “I’m freaking out, actually.”

“What? Now?”

“No, not now. I mean, yeah. Also now! All the damn time! I mean, aren’t you freaking out? Not at all?”

Declan looked at Lauren and when he pondered the question in his mind he realised that, at least right now, he was quite far from freaking out. “Not really.” he replied. “I mean, I used to, yeah?”

“I know you used to. You freaked out right in the beginning and now, with due date ‘round the corner, it’s me... I dunno. I kinda don’t want this.”

“Bit late for second thoughts, I’m afraid.”

“I know! I know how horrible that must sound to you now, oh god.”

“Nah, it doesn’t.”

“I’m just wondering how on goddamned earth I thought I could be a good parent. I mean, I took the risk of getting pregnant just so I - so we could- oh god. So what’s next? Huh? Tell me.”

“Uhm-”

“I tell you what’s next. I’m gonna put Baby on the changing table and leave the room, just like that, because hey, what’s the worst that could happen, eh?”

“Okay, what are you talking about-”

“And I sure won’t bother reading about nutrition and food?! Oh hell no, I’ll just give Baby some rubbish I find in the back of my refrigerator ‘cause, I mean, it works for me, right?!”

“Oh god, Lauren, what the fuck is that about now?”

“I am stupid, Dec! I don’t think things through, I can’t possibly be a parent!”

“So what, I’m stupid, too? Kinda played my part in this, y’know.”

“Oh my god! Yes, you are stupid! We’re both stupid!”

Declan snorted. “So let’s just hope this all maybe works out like multiplication, eh? Minus times minus equals plus?”

“We’re not at school!” Lauren moaned.

“Yeah I’m kinda grasping at straws here.” Declan admitted and bit his lip. “Honestly though, it’s what I do all the time. I just hope for the best. And somehow it works?”

“But you can’t just ‘hope for the best’ when a baby is involved?”

“Huh! Just think about all those weirdos in this world who manage to raise a kid. It somehow works? My parents raised us and they’re pretty much the worst weirdos I know.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me now?!” Lauren raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, we really didn’t turn out all too bad! ... okay, Orla is a bit weird, I’ll give you that, but three out of four is still a good rate?”

“Oh my god!” Lauren laughed.

Declan smiled at her for a few moments before he eventually put his arm around her shoulder, scooting a little closer and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I’m not even saying that everything will be fine, I’m just saying that it’s gonna happen, no matter what, and we just kinda... have to do this.”

“My parents offered any help I need...” Lauren murmured, resting her head on Declan’s shoulder.

(...)

September 2019

(...)

“Oh man, for how much longer are they even going to be in there?!”

“Shh. It’s all good, it’s been only five minutes.” Lauren whispered.

“I don’t understand why they have to keep doing all this, it’s not like it changes, y’know... what it is.”

“They need the x-ray to check his lymph vessels, so they can eventually figure out the best way to treat him.”

“They’re clueless.”

“They’re thorough. He’ll be fine, you know they won’t harm him.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you already sound like them.” Declan scoffed.

“I don’t. Unlike you, I listened to what they had to say! Stop using that tone on me already!”

“What tone?”

“Like I have no clue what you’re going through.”

Declan could hear the bitterness in Lauren’s voice and it was when he knew he had gone too far. He couldn’t let it out on her. Of all people in his life, Lauren was the one who understood exactly how he felt and she was also the one whose company he longed for most these days.

“I’m sorry. God, I- I know I’m awful. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Lauren rested her head against his shoulder while they held each other close.

“He’s all alone in there.” Declan’s voice broke and he wiped his tired eyes with the palm of his hand. “I hate it when they take him away.”

“I know. Me too.”

“I’m freakin’ out, Lauren.”

“C’mon, let’s sit.”

“Don’t wanna sit, I want him back.”

“I know, I want the same.”

“Don’t know how it happened but I’m strangely fond of this kid.” Declan now let out a little laugh. It was a nervous laugh, one that happened because he was too scared to let out anything else at this point. Lauren knew him well enough.

“Go figure.” she replied faintly. There was silence for a few moments until Declan spoke again.

(...)

____________________

  V. Text Messages, part 1.            

Declan has created the group ‘concert shit’.

Declan has added you to the group.

Declan has changed the group image.

6:43 - Declan: Lady and Gentlemen, this is the long overdue group chat to plan our concerts and open airs. I’m sick of talking to you individually and organise shit all by myself.

6:44 - Jessie: Like you ever did that or are remotely good at that kinda stuff 😆

6:44 - Declan: Quiet Jessica.

6:44 - Jessie: No. 😂 😂 😂

6:44 - Declan: Suggestions to change the group title are not welcome btw. Concert shit is a grand name for this kind of group

6:45 - Mick: why cant we change the title

6:45 - Mick: it’s shit

6:45 - Mick: literally

6:46 - Declan: Because we can’t Michael.

6:46 - Declan: I’m the admin, I say what’s to be done.

6:46 - Mick: ya do shit man

6:46 - Mick: like I let ya tell me what to do

6:47 - Daryl: I already hate this group dynamic.

6:47 - Jessie: It’s like in real life. 😆

6:47 - Jessie: Dipso always tries to be the one who decides shit. And we just don’t let him so it’s all good? So, Clockwork Fury in Dublin? I’d be up for it!

6:48 - Daryl: When?

6:48 - Daryl: And why Dublin, why not Athlone? Aren’t they playng in Athlone this time?

6:48 - Daryl: *playing

6:48 - Declan: I didn’t even know they are touring. Found them kinda lame last time tbh.

6:49 - Mick: they ARe lame

6:49 - Mick: Im out

6:49 - Mick: road trip to dublin tho

6:49 - Mick: like 2017

6:49 - Mick: for gojira

6:49 - Mick: I WANT a noTHER ROAD RIP

6:49 - Mick: TRIP lol

6:50 - Daryl: I still have nightmares and flashbacks from that trip. How much are tickets for CF, Jess?

6:52 - Jessie: 30ish, I think. I’ll order next week, I’m definitely gonna go and I’m taking Harper.

6:53 - Daryl: You guys are serious now?

6:53 - Jessie: I dunno. Yeah? I guess? 😂

6:53 - Jessie: The woman needs some good taste in music HONESTLY. And, I mean, she agreed to come and to be open about more future concerts and planning stuff together kinda means we’re in relationship land!? I mean, is that even a good sign?

6:54 - Daryl: How would I know? I’m shit at that stuff. 😂

6:55 - Jessie: Does Patti know you’re shit at that stuff? xD

6:55 - Daryl: She’s had first hand experience for three months now so yeah, I assume she does. She kinda seems to like me enough. 😂

6:55 - Jessie: Yeah why she’s a KEEPER?! 😜

6:55 - Jessie: Told ya that if you mess it up, I will gladly take her.

6:56 - Declan: what the fuck??

6:56 - Daryl: Thanks Jess but I think I’m gonna keep her myself. :D

6:56 - Declan: last time I checked this chat was called ‘concert shit’

6:56 - Declan: NOT ‘RELATIONSHIP SHIT’

6:56 - Declan: y’all are annoying with your relationship shit.

_________________

VI. Sailor Man

March 2020. The days are getting longer, the air is getting warmer and Orla just met a handsome sailor from overseas. Her friends are very, very curious.

***

“So, who was that guy last night?”

“Can we maybe not talk about last night? I still feel horrible.” Orla sounded tired and as she rubbed her temples, she let out a faint sigh.

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t worry. You got tipsy, so what?” Rosamund waved off. “All I could complain about is that you didn’t spend your money here at my place, as usual.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know what happened.” Orla groaned. “I was at the tattoo studio, and all of a sudden this incredibly sexy guy in a sailor uniform comes in. Tall, broad, dark hair, gorgeous tan, tattooed all over, bright smile, cute dimples... and that’s when I, well. I kinda stopped thinking.”

“A sailor uniform?” Patti asked. “You’re dating a sailor?”

“We’re not dating, we have met only yesterday! He wanted to get a little tattoo that would remind him of his stay here. I think Harper noticed that I was... , well, that I was a bit into him and pointed him in my direction and I told him that I was only the apprentice but he didn’t care, he wanted the tat anyway so I did it.”

Orla looked around. Rosamund, Declan and Patti all stared expectantly at her. She frowned but eventually shrugged and went on.

“Well, we went out afterwards, we had a snack, I showed him around, he told me he was from Detroit... annnnd we hopped some bars, I got tipsy, and at some point he kissed me, and I got even more tipsy.... and then we got here and I said some really terrible things to Mick and... oh god, Mick.” Orla groaned, closing her eyes and burying her face in her hands. “I somehow need to sort that out.”

“Ah, not now, though.” Patti interfered. “A sailor, wow. I mean, is he a sailor or just some weirdo who likes dressing up as one?”

“Oh, he is a sailor, darling. Such a sailor.” Rosamund closed her eyes and smiled, still charmed by the cheer memory of the guy.

“And he’s definitely an upgrade to Pizza Pete.” Declan nodded.

“Don’t call him Pizza Pete!?” Orla snapped.

“He referred to himself as Pizza Pete?! Don’t try to cover that he was the unfunniest... blandest boyfriend you ever had.”

“It’s the way you said it. Don’t be so condescending. Pete was cute and... well, I got fifty percent off my next order after any time we, uh... we met.”

“Ugggh...” Declan wrinkled his nose and looked away.

“Fifty percent? You were screwing that guy and all you got was lousy fifty percent? What a cheapskate.” Patti exclaimed, clearly appalled.

“It’s better than nothing- what, no, I don’t wanna talk about Pete now? My head’s still spinning, y’all need to leave me suffer in silence, please.”

(...)

_____________

VII. Untitled

(I don’t even know what this was supposed to be, lol. Sean turns 53 and the family celebrates?!?!?! Also, this must be set in 2013 since Orla and Mick are a thing here, haha.)

***

“I still don’t know how y’all convinced me to celebrate my 53th birthday.” Sean O’Connell laughed. “It’s not an even number or somethin’ after all.”

“Well, we need some kind of excuse to stuff our faces and get drunk during daylight?” his daughter suggested, rasing her glass to her father. “Cheers, Da!”

“Cheers, sweetheart. Like you ever cared about that.” Sean replied and he nearly lost it at Orla’s dumbfounded expression.

“When did I ever get drunk during daylight? I don’t do that!” Orla seemed appalled.

“You did. With Ma.” Declan chimed in. “Like, two weeks ago.”

“You did what?” Next to Orla, Mick raised his eyebrow, suppressing a smile.

“Uhm no, that was just-”

Sean laughed heartily now. “No no no, no need to justify yourself, kid, that was hilarious. I loved how you two sang along to- what was it again?”

“Daaaad!” Orla moaned.

“The Moulin Rouge soundtrack! After all those years it’s still wonderful!” Sarah noted.

“Oh yeah.” Declan noted with an eyeroll. “So wonderful.”

“Glad I wasn’t around for that.” Malachy mumbled next to him.

“You should be. It was ugly. Very, very ugly.” Declan mumbled back at him. “Earshattering. Frightening.”

“Oh god, can you just stop being arseholes and-” Orla interfered but Sarah just shook her head.

“C’mon, sweetheart, it’s not our fault that all these lil’ fuckers here have no idea how to spend a good time, eh?”

Orla pursed her lips for a bit and eventually nodded. “You know what? Right you are, Ma. Y’all are just boring. We should do it again, I think. Right here. Right now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t.” Malachy spat out. “I don’t need any nightmares later.”

“You are a nightmare.” Orla shot back. When she saw that her boyfriend was still looking at her with his eyes wide in apparent confusion, she groaned. “Don’t look at me like that? I promise, I won’t burst out singing songs now.”

“Whatever,” Mick answered. “There could be worse after all.”

Malachy snorted. “Jesus Christ, congrats!” he said into Orla’s direction. “Apparently love ain’t just blind, it’s also deaf.”

“I mean, Mick, you know she can’t sing, don’t you? ‘Course you do.” Declan added.

“Ugh, c’mon, Dip, what am I supposed to say now? She’s sittin’ right next to me.”

“At least he’s not blatantly lying!” Sarah chimed in. “I like that! Very promising!”

“Y’gotta learn that, tho.” Declan said. “Relationships are all about sugarcoating and tellin’ each other weird cute-sy shit just so the other one ain’t pissed all the time.”

“Aye, I’m, uh, not gonna take that note, don’t mind me.” Mick raised an eyebrow.

“Good boy!” Sarah nodded. “You two will do just fine, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, just don’t take any tips from Declan.” Malachy added.

“Hey!” Declan protested. “I give great advice.” He turned to Mick and Orla again. “Mark my words, man, in a few years, when the two of you have three weird kids and are miserable all the time, you’ll be longing for my piece of advice.”

“No one is having weird kids!” Sarah chimed in. “Hopefully.” she added quietly, but still loud enough that both Mick and Orla now shared a startled look.

(...)

__________________

.... that’s it, I guess. Sanne out. :’D

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (30/30)

Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala for Boston's Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation. What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes.

What she truly doesn't expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I get all gooey when I finish a story, and this is no exception. In fact, this might be all the worse. Back in November @wellhellotragic sent me a prompt for a silly little one shot (so you should all go thank her for her ideas), and while it was supposed to stay that way, I’m so glad that it didn’t! Thanks for being the best readers and betting on the bullseye ❤️

Also, happy belated birthday to @lifeinahole27 ! This epilogue goes out to you!

PS: look out for a bonus chapter coming soon!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 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 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog  @andiirivera  @hollyethecurious  @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings  @notoriouscs @mariakov81  @jonirobinson64 @bmbbcs4evr  @thejollyroger-writer @lifeinahole27 @ultimiflos @galaxyzxstark @idristardis

-/-

She settles down on the couch in front of the TV in the living room, all of the shutters closed so that she can’t see outside to look at the ocean under the dull glow of the cloud-covered moonlight. She can still hear it a little bit, the subtle crashing of water against sand, but it’s mostly drowned by the sound of rain that beats down on the roof of the house. Obviously it rains in Santa Monica, but it’s rare enough for it to be an odd occurrence. She’s used to the sunshine and pleasant weather, even when it gets a bit chilly.

Her Boston roots would be ashamed of her for thinking that sixty degrees is chilly.

It’s what happens when she’s been living in Santa Monica for a little under two years now, all of her internal temperatures getting messed up with the total change in climate.

Making that decision had been difficult, as are all of their decisions to move or not to move and whether to visit for a weekend or a week (or for months if she’s honest with herself, even if that isn’t a real possibility) when Killian is away filming, but Killian knew that he’d mostly be working in LA for his next few projects as he wrapped up his stint with DC and Superman. He says that he’s outgrown that role, that he’s happy to get to move on to other roles that he enjoys more, but she can tell that he’s upset about having all of it be over. He’s really bonded with his costars, and she knows that he’s not too happy to not be working with Arthur and Ariel again after they’ve been working together for nearly a decade.

So he’s a little sad about it all ending, even if he won’t show it, but she can see the tenseness and emotion in his eyes as he promotes the last movie. He’s on Fallon tonight, and she hopes that he gets to have a good time instead of worrying about saying the wrong thing or giving out spoilers.

Her husband has the ability to give her spoilers to all kinds of movies, but she has to tell him no since she most definitely will not be able to hold her tongue.

There was an incident with the last Justice League movie that may or may not have been her fault.

(It was definitely her fault.)

It’s all much easier when Killian’s doing things where spoilers aren’t as big of a deal, but at the end of the day, all she wants is for him to be happy and to be doing something that makes him proud. That’s kind of been their thing lately. They want each other to be proud of what they do for their work, to be proud of how they spend their days. She had to quit her job when they moved here, and it took awhile for her to find one that she loved. It took awhile for her to find one where they wanted her because of her abilities and not because of who her husband is. But she did eventually find work at the Children’s Lifesaving Foundation, and as much as she loved her last job, she loves this one so much more. She actually gets to interact with kids and families, and she can legitimately feel the difference she’s making as she sets up fun events and field trips for kids who would never get that kind of privilege elsewhere.

It helps that she has good hours too, especially now.

Really, the only downside is that Ruby doesn’t work with her, so she doesn’t have her best friend barging in on her office ten times a day stealing candy off of her desk and begging her to the leave the office to get Tasty Burger a few blocks away even when they really should be working. She misses Ruby just like she misses David and Mary Margaret. It’s hard being away from them, and even though they don’t manage to talk every day, they do still talk most days. She looks forward to her video chats with Leo and Brody. They’re growing up so dang fast, and every time she gets an opportunity to go visit them, she’s on a plane.

Her frequent flyer miles are still constantly adding up, and it’s something she’s learned to accept as a part of her life, even if it’s something that she struggled with for a long time.

Actively choosing to leave people she loves was one of the hardest decisions she’s ever made, and no amount of words will ever be able to express how thankful she is that Killian did that for her when they were dating. That changed absolutely everything for them. He always told her that he wasn’t giving up any more than he was gaining, and he’d do it all again in a second.

She would too.

Besides, sometimes she misses that apartment in Boston, so she and Killian will stay there on occasion. There’s a lot of good memories there. She almost traveled with him to New York so that they could stay in Boston for a weekend, but it didn’t work out this time. Maybe sometime soon.

She’s obviously got to go to a Sox game. Of course, they do play in LA sometimes, but it’s just not the same as being in Fenway with her feet propped up on the chair in front of her and with a hot dog in her hand when she and Killian inevitably get singled out to be on the kiss cam.

(There’s a video on the internet of them making out because they got a little too carried away one day, and she tries not to think about that as much as possible. Her husband is hot, okay? Sometimes she likes to stick her tongue down his throat in public like the classy woman that she is.)

She listens as Jimmy Fallon does his opening monologue, the minutes stretching out as she waits for Killian to walk out on stage. It’s most definitely not live and she could just talk to him on the phone, but Killian is currently asleep in a hotel in Manhattan. He’s been so exhausted, the dark bags under his eyes increasing every day, and she can’t wait to have him home tomorrow so that she can kiss that handsome face and sleep next to him in their bed for the first time in two weeks, wrapping her arms around his waist and not letting go.

She misses him. Like crazy.

Even if she’s been stretching out on the bed and taking up most of it by herself. Though, it is a ridiculously large bed, and she can appreciate that the house allows them to have furniture that is far too big for two adults.

But she still misses him.

It’s weird how it somehow never gets easier and then yet it also does. She misses him when he’s gone, and sometimes the ache is overwhelming to the point of tears, but then there are times when it doesn’t have as big of an impact on her and she only misses him a little as she goes to work or spends time with Elsa and Liam. She can never quite explain it. She doesn’t really need to.

It’s her life, their life, and she wouldn’t change it for anything.

Eventually Killian comes out on stage, Jimmy introducing him and the two of them chatting about the movie for a bit, and then they get to the conversation she knew was going to happen. It’s been happening in all of the interviews that she’s watched, and she hasn’t even watched that many. She loves the man, but she doesn’t need to listen to every word that he says.

That doesn’t even happen at home.

Killian talks a lot.

“You and your wife welcomed a little girl a few months ago, right?” “Well, that was supposed to be a secret,” Killian starts, bouncing a little in his seat and curling his lips into the beaming smile that forms on his face every time he talks about McKenzie, “but then a cheeky photographer managed to get a picture of us shopping for a crib with Emma’s rounded belly. But yeah, my wife gave birth five months ago, and I am so in love with my girl. Well, with my little girl and my big girl.”

She scoffs at that, but mostly she laughs at the way that Killian’s ears go red as he drops his face into his hands while Jimmy roars with laugher. “Emma, darling,” he sighs, speaking right to the camera, “you know what I mean if you’re watching. You likely haven’t watched any of my interviews, but this is going to be the one you watch.”

“You might want to bring flowers when you go home,” Jimmy chuckles, trying to contain himself as the audience calms down.

“That might be a good idea.” “What’s it like being a dad?” Jimmy asks as he tries to change the subject. It’s a good subject change. This is one of her favorite things for Killian to talk about. Much more than Killian calling her his ‘big girl.’ “Terrifying,” Killian laughs, and she does the same, moving her legs up underneath her. She needs a blanket, but she doesn’t want to go get one. “I mean, it’s - “ Killian shakes his head back and forth, the disbelief evident on his face. “I’m a pretty private guy, especially over the past few years now that I have a family, but I love my wife and my daughter more than anything in the world. Of course I remember what life was like before them, but it’s been so long since Emma wasn’t the center of my entire world that I honestly don’t want to remember. And she gave me this kid that’s - she’s the greatest kid in the world, no competition even if I know that she is likely up right now grabbing on Emma’s ears.” She chuckles at that too all while her stomach does actual summersaults that are disagreeing with the butterflies that are taking flight inside with her. The man is so damn romantic, and she cannot believe he’s making her swoon thousands of miles away while he’s in New York for work. Dammit it. He’s not supposed to be able to do that, but he can.

It’s not something she’s going to complain about. She might tease him a little though.

“You realize that’s likely going to be all over the internet tomorrow? Right after your other affectionate comments.” Jimmy laughs, leaning forward at his desk.

“Aye, I know, but I’ve found far too many weird things about me online to go looking around. I usually only see most things because Emma’s best friend sends them to me.”

She doesn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation because, almost like clockwork when she has a quiet moment, McKenzie starts crying, her little voice coming through the baby monitor that’s practically attached to her hip at all times. Usually she’ll cry for just a little while and fall back asleep, a lot of the awful late nights with constant wailing having ended a few weeks ago, but she is missing Killian a lot tonight and kind of wants to hold her kid. It’s selfish in a way, but McKenzie isn’t going to complain.

Mostly because she can’t talk and a little bit because Emma holding her will soothe her cries.

“Hi, baby,” she sighs as she walks in the room, leaning over the crib and looking at McKenzie clench her fists, her little pale face all red and bunched up and her green eyes slammed shut. “You’re being overdramatic, kid,” she laughs, picking her up out of the crib so that the cries stop while her iron grip gets a hold on some loose strands that have fallen out of Emma’s braid. That always seems to happen, and it hurts like hell. How she isn’t bald, she has no idea. “There’s no need to cry when I know for a fact that you’re not hungry and that you don’t need to be changed.”

It’s weird talking to someone who can’t talk back, but she’s kind of gotten used to it. She kind of enjoys it. A lot of her problems can be solved at three in the morning when feeding McKenzie and rocking back and forth in the glider. Sure, talking to Killian is great, but he talks back. Sometimes she just doesn’t want that.

That’s life.

The next three hours are spent walking McKenzie back and forth in the house while she tries to straighten up a little bit. It’s not totally a mess, but she and Killian are always going to have different opinions on what constitutes a mess. She’s not tired, though, her sleep schedule all out of whack since giving birth, so she has the energy to clean until she does eventually put McKenzie back to bed, hoping that she sleeps through the night.

She really has no idea, though, because when she wakes up the next morning the sunlight is already filtering through the bedroom window, the rain long gone, and instead of waking to a loud monitor, she wakes to Killian very creepily sitting next to her in bed staring down at her, his hand trailing up and down her arm.

“KJ, what the hell?” she gasps, her heart beating so quickly that her breathing stutters the slightest bit.

“I come home after being away for weeks, and my own darling wife isn’t even happy to see me. Shameful.”

“Oh my God,” she groans, rolling her eyes at the way that he’s got his hand clasped over his chest. “You’re ridiculous. You just scared the shit out of me.”

“Language, darling.”

“She’s not in the room.”

With a bit of an ache she sits up in bed and cups Killian’s cheek, running her thumb under his eyes to look at just how tired he is in person. It’s Saturday, so they’re definitely spending all day in bed. Sleeping or sleeping together. It doesn’t matter. Probably both.

Definitely both.

“Oh but she is,” he promises, his eyes scanning her face likes he’s trying to see if one of her freckles has moved. They haven’t, but he can feel free to check. “I’ve been home for about an hour. You were asleep, she was awake, so I went ahead and had some time with one of my best girls while I waited for you to wake up.”

“Your little girl instead of your big girl?”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, his lashes landing against his cheeks. All of his freckles are still in the same place too. Good. “You watched that?”

“I did, babe. Are there flowers downstairs?”

“There can be.”

She laughs at that, at the way he kind of looks like he might actually go buy her flowers, but she simply smiles and shakes her head. “So she’s on her playmat?”

“Aye.” He leans forward to slide is lips over hers while his hands cup her cheeks, the warm roughness steadying her while she finally feels them be connected again. It’s slow, languid, and just like always, she could get lost in it. “I have missed you, my love.”

“Me too. You’re not allowed to leave for a solid three weeks.”

“Why three?”

“Because that’s when I’ll get sick of you again.”

Killian chuckles, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin, and it doesn’t take him long before he’s peppering kisses against her cheek and jaw, working his way down until he’s moving against the tattoo on her wrist. It’s an actual tattoo now, not just a little dot.

MJ.

Mckenzie Jones.

Or as she’s usually known, Kenzie Jones.

She’s got two KJ’s who she loves more than anything in the world, and it was that alone that made her finally decided to expand her little dot tattoo into something more, into something better than her small rebellion at finally being free when she turned eighteen. That dot always meant something to her, but it means so much more now. When they got married at a courthouse in Los Angeles, just the two of them and Will of all people as their witness, she thought about going and getting the letters of Killian’s initials inked on her skin. But they did have a bit of a party to go to with their friends and their families, so it didn’t happen on that day. It had been a bit of a struggle to get everyone in one place for them to just get married at a courthouse, but it had all been worth it for them to get married only with the people that matter most to them around them.

And she eventually did get that tattoo. It’s just a little different than the originally planned KJ.

Killian’s got a matching MJ inked on his wrist. Now she can kiss his wrist tattoo as well. What’s fair is fair after all.

“And after I spent all day yesterday talking about how I wanted to get back to my wife.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

“It was but I – ”

McKenzie lets out what can only be considered as a squawk, and she can practically feel Killian’s groan, the dirty words on the tip of his tongue being swallowed back in exchange for him rolling off of the bed and picking their daughter up, gently plopping her down on the bed in between them.

“Little love, Daddy wants to romance Mummy right now, and here you are making very loud noises that don’t agree with all of this romance.”

“She’s obviously an evil little mastermind trying to keep us from giving her a sibling.”

“Darling, we managed to make her in between me being away for filming and us living next to Liam again. I think we can find some time to do some enjoyable activities with you on your back.”

“Or you.”

“Amen to that,” he laughs, falling back against the bed and picking up Kenzie, walking her across his stomach with her little chubby legs. “Alright, Kenzie girl, Daddy has been gone for two weeks, and I need you to tell me all about the junk food that Mummy is hiding in the kitchen.”

“She came out of my body. She’s not snitching on me.”

“She doesn’t have to. You left a tub of icing in the bathroom.”

Her shoulders shrug. She’s not at all ashamed of the fact that maybe she let herself indulge in a little icing. She doesn’t remember taking it into the bathroom, but weird things happen at night.

“It happens.”

He twists his head to the side, half of his face pressed into the pillow while he flashes her that crooked, boyish, altogether charming smile. She loves him a ridiculous amount. Has she told him that today? She’ll make sure to tell him later.

“It does,” he admits, his eyes crinkling. “Tell you what, later, once we’ve got this one down for her nap, you and I can go to town on that tub of icing.”

A laugh passes through her lips before she leans over and brushes those lips over Killian’s forehead. “It sounds like a plan, Stan.”