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messagestoateez · 4 years ago

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Packing

Paring: Seonghwa x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: slight bit of angst. Pouty Seonghwa really.

Summary: You moved to Korea for college and met your boyfriend, Seonghwa, and his 7 crazy group members, but at the end of the year you have decided to leave and go back to your home country till the next year starts and you can see Seonghwa and your friends again.

A pout formed on his lips at the mention of packing things up. Granted you lived in a small one bedroom apartment rented from the college you went to, and you’d still be able to live in it when the new year started, but you wanted to pack things up and make sure when you came back you could start fresh and decorate your home different for a new atmosphere.

Seonghwa stood in the door frame of the bedroom you two had shared when he didn’t have a busy schedule and could come over, and when you didn’t have much homework from classes. The pout that had stayed on his face for what had seemed like weeks, was especially prominent today. He knew it was your last day in Korea till August and it pained him to let you go. Many hours away and many hours behind would kill him. He needed you to be with him physically, but he understood you miss your family and that you would be gone for only two months.

He sighed and you look over at him with a slight smile.

“My love, I won’t be gone long and we will text and call any chance we get.” You said, walking over to him and pacing your arms around his small waist, pressing your cheek to his chest, hearing his heartbeat speed up with the small act of love he received.

He looked at you and wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and nodded, replying with an almost inaudible “I know.” and then burying his nose in your hair, smelling the scent of strawberry and mint your shampoo and conditioner held. You two stood there for a while before you looked up at him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, making him smile and a red hue appear on his cheeks.

“Come on lazy bones, we gotta finish packing. Mingi texted me and told me the rest of them would be over soon to help and are bringing food with them.” You said unwrapping yourself from Seonghwas touch and walking over to a half full box of miscellaneous items and moving it from your bed to the floor. Seonghwa walked over to you and helped you move things around and put things in boxes, when suddenly the bell rang.

“I’ll get it.” You said, standing up from your place on the floor, where you were sorting trash and important things into piles. You brushed off your hands, leaving Seonghwa in your almost empty room and getting the door.

You opened the door to 7 hyperactive boys who carried food and drinks, and were shouting your name, pushing past you to come in and hug you with all their strength.

“We come baring food and help.” Hongjoong explained, cringing when he heard one of the boys fall and something glass break.

San and Wooyoung walked in guiltily holding pieces of a broken vase.

“Dumbass here pushed me and I accidentally knocked your vase over.” Wooyoung explained, side-eyeing San, who had a given him the ‘I can’t believe you snitched on me look’.

You sighed and at the same time Seonghwa walked into the living room where you, San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong were standing and his eyes widened.

“Is that what broke?” He asked.

“Yeah but that’s okay I planned on throwing it out anyways, I don’t use it and it’s just taking up space.” You replied, while taking the broken glass to the kitchen and throwing it away in a random trash bag.

“Hey I got the rest of the room packed, but I found some more papers and set them on the floor in the pile you were going through.” Seonghwa said when he saw you walk back into the living room.

“Okay thank you Hwa.” You offer him a small smile which he returned.

“Why so glum Seonghwa?” Wooyoung asked after seeing the small pout that had been on his face all day.

“Gee I dunno, may it’s the fact that his girlfriend is leaving for two months, genius.” San said in a duh tone, which earned him a slap on the back of the head from Wooyoung.

Yunho, Yeosang, Jongho, and Mingi all came into the living room from the kitchen, Mingi and Yeosang with chicken in their hands.

“Okay so where shall we start?” Yunho asked.

Seonghwa shrugged and looked around spotting unpacked belongings and boxes in a corner of the room.

“There?” He said, asking you more than directing the others.

“There,” You confirmed “but don’t break anything else boys. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Aye aye captain.” San and Wooyoung replied.

You and Seonghwa headed back to your room and you sat back down on the ground while Seonghwa started cleaning up and dusting.

Eventually the whole house was packed and cleaned, aside from a few blankets and pillows that were on your bed and couch, and the 9 of you were situated on your couch or on the floor eating and sharing stories for past time.

“We are gonna miss you.” Mingi had said which caused you to frown and pat his head. You two had to be the closest. You guys just seemed to have clicked when Seonghwa introduced you to the rest of the group. Ever since then you two have been best friends.

“I won’t be gone long. Keep Seonghwa company for me, yeah?” You said.

The boys just nodded in reply and went back to conversing.

Eventually it was time to say goodbye to the 7 boys, and the last people out were a sad Mingi being dragged out by melancholy Yunho.

You shut the door behind the two boys, locking it, and turning around to see a teary eyed Seonghwa, making your gaze soften.

You put a hand on his cheek, feeling him lean into the touch, which was enough to make the tears that had been building up over the past week or two, finally spill over.

You removed your hand and let him wrap his arms around you and bury his head in the crook of your neck, letting out silent sobs. You brought your hands up and ran your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe your crying boyfriend.

“Don’t want you to go.” He choked out. The sound of his trembling voice breaking your heart. You guys hadn’t had to be apart yet. You two met after he got off tour, at the cat café you work at. He had gone there often with the rest of his group members and the rest is history.

“Don’t worry bubs, I won’t gone long. It’s only 8 weeks, then I’ll be able to come back to you and see you again, I pinky promise.” You said holding out your pinky, he lifted his head up, the sight of his puffy eyes making your heart clench, and then hooked his pinky with yours. He then set his head back down onto the crook of your neck and enjoyed the feeling of you running your fingers through his brown hair.

“I’m gonna miss you.” He said, nuzzling your shoulder.

“Im gonna miss you too.” You said tearing up a little. To be honest before you met Seonghwa you were ecstatic about going home, but now? You wanted to be there with him, now more than ever. You’ve seen him cry, but being the part of the reason as to why he’s crying breaks your heart even more.

You two stayed like that till you both decided to get ready for bed, you still having to finish packing a carry on.

As you finished brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, you exited the bathroom, Seonghwa going in behind you and getting himself ready for bed.

You got done with packing your bag, which consisted of your passport, wallet, portable charger, and a few other items, and set it on the floor by your dresser. Then you got your outfit for the next day ready, and headed over to your bed, plugging in your phone.

You got in bed and waited for Seonghwa to finish brushing his teeth, which happened a few moments later.

He crawled in next to you, and brought you to his chest, hugging you, entangling your limbs, and rubbing your back while you drew shapes on his t-shirt clad chest.

“Y/n could you sing for me?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. Even though he was much more talented than you could ever be in your opinion, he insisted that he was in love with your singing after the first time he heard your voice, while you were doing dishes.

“Mhm.” You hum out your answer and break free from his hold to put on some music, as a guide as to what you were singing.

Laying back down, you had reversed the sleeping position, with Seonghwas head on your chest and arms around your mid-section, while your legs were wrapped around his waist running your fingers through his hair again.

As the pianic intro started you prepared your voice to start singing.

Whether near or far

I am always yours

Any change in time

We are young again

Lay us down

We’re in love

Lay us down

We’re in love

Ahh Ahh

In these coming years

Many things will change

But the way I feel

Will the remain the same

Lay us down

We’re in love

Lay us down

We’re in love

Ahh Ahh

As the song had come to an end, Seonghwa’s breathing had evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth, and your eyes started to droop from exhaustion.

It may be 2 months till you would be able to see Seonghwa again, but no matter the distance your love would be okay.

You stopped your movements in Seonghwa’s hair and kissed his forehead, whispering something and closed your eyes.

“Goodnight my moon.”

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itsmeevie01 · 4 years ago

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A Moment in Time-Ch 5

I'm back! lots of things to come, and a slightly longer, Tim centered, chapter! and...the build-up to the Timari subplot!

Yay!

I know that is what everyone is actually here for lol.

Tim was tired of looking for Jason.

He wasn’t at any of his normal safe houses, and none of his usual contacts had heard from him in the last few weeks. Three weeks after the ridiculous scandal had broken, the press had all but forgotten Tim for the time being. As he ducked through alleyways, the teen couldn’t help but be thankful as he climbed back on his bike and sped back towards Wayne Manor.

He was done waiting for his brother to show up. There was something sketchy going on in their city, and if Jason wasn’t going to show up, then it was no longer his concern.

When he got home, Tim found Bruce waiting for him in the study looking over the side gardens. The older C.E.O.’s face was grim.

When Tim approached the desk, Bruce handed him a stack of papers. As Tim started to page through them, he had a flashback to when Jared Stone had brought the pile of tabloids.

As he flipped through the new stack, Tim realized that it was Jason’s credit card statement. And-was that…? “did he buy a ticket for Paris? Why didn’t we get notified about his passport passing through customs? Why is Jason in France of all places?” when he looks back at his adoptive father, the man’s face was grim.

“I don’t know, Tim. But we sure as hell are going to find out. Go to his apartment. I know you have a key. We need to see if he left anything out from before he left.” Bruce paused before adding, “he’s been gone for two weeks. There has to be a reason.” Tim nodded as he moved to stride from the room before Alfred spoke, shocking both Bruce and Tim.

“Maser Bruce, did you by chance call Master Jason? Last I remember, his cell phone was still working.” The father and son froze, before turning to the family Butler, slack-jawed.

“We really are stupid.”

Damian didn’t see anything wrong with Todd being gone. It was quieter around the Manor and it meant that the 13-year-old was allowed to patrol through Crime Alley by himself, something none of his predecessors had been able to do at his age.

As the young teen flew over the city, his mind raced. He found this the most relaxing part of his time with his father.

At the manor, there was always something going on and there was always someone looking over his shoulder. Here, as he went rooftop to rooftop, arching over this city, the boy was able to finally find some peace.

A sound over his earpiece broke Robin from his quiet elation. “Robin, how are you doing? Is everything clear?” oracle’s voice filtered through, bringing him to relax. Oracle he could handle.

“it’s a regular night, Oracle. A few of the regulars. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“perfect. Finish up and head back, B wants you back before 2 because you have school tomorrow.”

The annoyed “Tch” that came down the line made the redhead laugh from where she sat at the computer.

Tim had texted Jason before he had left for patrol. When he got back, there was a response waiting for him.

Jason: in Paris. I’ll be back soonish

Tim: Jay, what’s soonish?

Tim: there’s a situation we need your help with.

Jason: kid, I'll be back when I can.

Jason: if B cares, tell him Gina kidnapped me. I’m staying with her right now.

Jason: otherwise, just wait. It's personal business.

Tim: Jay, we are your family. Doesn’t that make it our business too?

Jason: in this case, no. fuck off, replacement

Tim: See you when you get back Jay

The teen sighed. It was just like Jason to try and handle everything himself. This time, Tim couldn’t play interference either, he was stuck across an ocean. He just hoped this Gina person wasn’t as impulsive as his older brother. If she was, they would all be in trouble.

As he made his way to his room, having showered and gotten himself ready for the next day, Tim paused by his desk.

He had taken the time to compile a file on the girl from a few weeks ago but hadn’t read it yet. He knew that if he was to read it, it would be violating her privacy, but he did that every day, so was this any different? To Tim, the only difference was that this girl wasn’t someone to watch or take in. she was just a normal girl with a normal life, who had run into him for a split second.

It wasn’t like he was going to meet her, right?

The teen shook his head and flopped onto his bed. It wasn’t worth it tonight. He could have the moral debate with himself when he was properly rested.

Maybe he should have called in sick. Tim was definitely finding a way to leave early, as he looked at the list of meetings that he had been scheduled for.

Why had he agreed to this again? He could have sworn that he had told his assistant that Wednesday was his day to go home and work on his college classes. Instead, Tim had a feeling that he was going to be at the office late.

On his off night too.

Partway through the day, he noticed an email that he didn’t recognize in his personal inbox. The inbox that he probably shouldn’t have been checking on the company computer but…

After a moment of hesitation, the young C.E.O. had clicked on the new email and blinked at what pulled up.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Mr. Drake,

My name is Marinette Dupain Cheng. I believe that we ran into each other quite literally a month and a half ago, approximately. As I am sure that you have at least seen the fictitious stories floating through the media, I assume that you are aware of the interaction that I am referring to.

Originally, I had no intention of reaching out, but a friend of mine encouraged me to reach out. (had actually was the one to give me your email. Does the name Jason Todd ring a bell?) I do hope that this whole press fiasco hasn’t hindered you too terribly.

Kindest Regards,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

Tim blinked once before rereading the short email that the girl had sent. No. no way. She knew Jason? And what did she mean, Jason was the one to encourage her to reach out? Opening up a new draft, Tim hesitated before flicking his wrists to rid himself of tension and trying his reply.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Miss Dupain Cheng,

I was surprised to receive your email, but it seems that it came at a fortunate time. Yes, I do know Jason Todd. I know him quite well, actually. He and I were adopted by the same man, Bruce Wayne. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you meet my brother?

I must apologize, for the whole scandal from last month. I know that neither of us were directly responsible, but I do feel bad for any trouble it may have caused you. If it is not too much of an intrusion, I might also ask, how were you able to respond so quickly? The only reason I knew about the incident was Bruce’s old friend Jared. The man came into my office in a fit about the nerve of the photographer.

(if you ever meet the man, you will understand what I mean when I say that he never does things halfway. He had picked up a copy of every magazine or tabloid that ran a story about it. When he came in, he actually brought his crocodile as well. Fang scared the lobby staff more than anything has for the past bit, I believe.)

I hope this finds you well,

Timothy Drake Wayne

After reading through his email one more time to make sure it sounded professional enough, Tim hit the send button and let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling that this was the start of something important.

Suddenly, Tim was very glad he hadn’t read the girl’s file.

As he was preparing to head to yet another meeting later that afternoon, Tim glanced at his personal email again. To his surprise, the teen was met with another email from the French girl.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Mr. Drake (or is it Drake Wayne?)

Jason was sitting next to me when I opened your last email. Imagine my surprise when he panicked. Apparently, he had decided against informing any of his family of his departure. I must say, his reaction was quite entertaining.

Onto your question from your email, Penny Rolling, a good friend of mine, dropped off a box full of the tabloid trash that her husband, Jagged had shipped to her as soon as she got it. After my initial reaction, the two of us got a good laugh out of the whole situation. Especially when we heard that Jagged tried to bring Fang into your office! I guess to you, he would be Jared, but to me, he will always be my Uncle Jagged.

In other news, I thought it would be polite to pass on that Jason will be returning in the next few days. He has been fretting over a family emergency, not that he will tell me what it is but, there is only so much I can do. However, I thought it might be prudent to forewarn you that he will be bringing my grandmother back with him. Nona said it was something to do with one of his ‘side hustles’. Knowing those two, however, makes me think that Jason has gotten himself into something significantly illegal this time.

No need to apologize for something that neither of us could control! You did not ask for the photographer to take that ridiculous photo, nor did you ask for the fiction writers who work for the tabloids to write a piece of the photo. That said, I do feel that it has opened many new avenues. I know that Jason and I reconnected because of the photo, and it has given my lawyers something to focus on while we wait on proceedings for other matters.

Have a good day,

Marinette Dupain Cheng

Jason was coming home sooner than he planned. It seemed like Tim’s text had actually gotten through to his older brother.

With a sigh, he marked the email as important so that he would remember to respond to it before he started on his homework.

The teen C.E.O. snagged his thermos of coffee on the way out the door, he had a meeting to go to.

And...there it is! this week I'm going to try and work out my posting schedule. what did everyone think of the emails?

i know that there are a lot more people in the Wayne/bat family, so I'm going to work them in a little bit at a time. as far as Dick Grayson is concerned, btw he knows about the scandal but not about Jason's sister or that he's not in Gotham.

MasterPost

Tag List

@moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter

@trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan @susiej1118@t1dwarrior-of-earth

#a moment in time fic #miraculous ladybug #ml x dc #mlb #timari #timinette #sibling!jasonette #Cat!marinette

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rotzaprachim · 4 years ago

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Kalimat/كلمات

Yusuf al-Khaysani/Niccolò di Genova, 3.3k, teen, AO3 LINK

Yusuf translates medical texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling. --- It takes Niccolò lifetimes to learn Arabic.

(I've tried pretty hard to make this at least historically feasible but I'm very sure this is just. Jam packed with mistakes. As is the Arabic langauge stuff- I got booted from the class due to dyslexia. I also hope the representation of Islam and Islamic culture is accurate.)

Languages drop from Joe’s lips easily. Nicky struggles with survival phrases in lingua francas- What Hurts in Dari and Can you breath- nod yes in Swahili and How can we help in French, but Joe can easily lose himself in the sea of a new language’s words and come up swimming, not just stringing together sentences but swallowing poetry, drama, and music. In Ughyar, Bosnian, Zapotec, Spanish, Tamil, Sylheti, Albanian. The shelves of his books line their lives. That is important to Joe, that people be seen not just as they always seem to be in western news reports - as the bodies in the ruined city- but as poets. As storytellers. As humans who struck fire with language that will survive and burn anew.

Joe recites Khachatur Abovian to calm the fractured nerves of a former schoolteacher ripped from his home while he and Nicky rush to forge passports and visas for the teacher and his wife and his seven children to make new lives in America. In a post war displaced persons camp he speaks Yiddish, reads Sholem Aleichem and Avrom Sutzkever from paperbacks pulled from the fires and then decades later in the dust of Baghdad, Arabic and al-Sayyab. And he listens, listens even more than he speaks. He listens to stories upon stories of war and loss and human suffering with his ears and his eyes and heart and a clasped hand that says, I do not claim to know your pain but I have felt my own.

Nicky sets arms and delivers babies and administers vaccines and sorts endless boxes of quinine tables and bandages. He speaks with his hands, mainly, and his bedside manner is different from Joe’s. He learned long ago to keep lollipops in the right pocket of his jacket. The first language Nicky learned to speak was the sea and the second was the wind, and spoken words come to him slower, with less agility, blending into occasionally archaic jumbles. He means to ask an assistant for an antiseptic wipe at one point, has to dig through his mind through the piles of once vital vocabulary bleached useless by time, military jargon for battles lost nine hundred years ago and colloquial derja words for plants and crops gone extinct under the tides of modern monocropping, and comes up sputtering, asking if anyone, perchance, has a neckerchief?

The linguistic stumbling of an unlettered genovese sailor versus a middle class trader’s son who learned to love the written world on his mother’s lap.

It took Nicky a human life time to master spoken Arabic, in a few of her many varieties, with her tricky mazes of roots, more decades of listening and stumbling through conversations and gentle corrections than the average human mind could take before his own readujsted to the beauty of a world described through roots with all things connected to each other.

It took him another life time again to master fusHa, the complex turns of phrase and imagery and unwritten short vowells, and a brush and then pen always felt far more alien in his hands than a sword did. (Although the precision of a pen prepares him well for the precision of a scalpel, and that, perhaps, is the instrument with which Nicky writes history.)

A thousand years ago, in the same city who’s people Joe and Nicky will die again and again for to try and pull from the ruin, the man then Yusuf wrapped his hand around the hand of the man then Niccolò and guided him through this mysterious world of written letters. Alif-ba-ta-thaa and then nun-qaf-waw-lam-alif,

اسمي نقولا

For the first time, Niccolò wrote himself down.

The script contained other mysteries and hidden trap doors. The disappearing mem that could get swallowed by lam and alif and the mysterious shape-shifting ta marbouta and the categories of sun and moon letters that lent the marks on a page a tangible quality, the burning Mediterranean sole that Niccolò’s people marked their years by and la luna by which Yusuf’s people knew their own time by.

When they had reached their first truce in the battlefield and had to learn how to say things beyond various threats and claims of the name of God, they’d each had to remake the world in a new image, relabel everything they’d thought they’d known. Shams, the enemy man had said over and over again, pointing up, and Niccolò hadn’t known if he meant “sky” or “blue” or “above” or “God” or the color “blue.” Niccolò had drawn a line in the sand, the past running to the future and tried to map out the different tenses of his own language he didn’t fully understand himself, only knew how he’d use them in a sentence. He’d hatched an x in the middle for now, drawn two little stick figures and two blobby horses, us he’d said in zenaize, then future, right of the men, past, left.

“Ahhh,” the man who Niccolò now knew as Ana Ismee Yusuf, nodded. He stood up and pointed right. “Lelshar’.” To the left. “Lel’arb.” He smiled and Niccolò thought it might be worth dying, just to see again. “Si, si. Io capiscooo.” He stretched his syllables out in a deadpan imitation of a puffed-up Genovese noble, and Niccolò laughed himself.

Several lifetimes later and Niccolò tries to label his world anew again in writing. Yusuf writes out words in large, blocky script on pieces of scap paper, marks the harakat around the words carefully in red ink. He tacks باب to the door and سَرِير to their bed and even أنا to himself. He holds up a piece of paper to the sky outside, the sun blinding their eyes momentarily before they repair. الشَّمس, the first word. Yusuf even attempts to stick قِطّ onto Amira, the sharp eyed street cat who’s wormed her wait into their household. The scratches that earns him heal quickly.

It takes Niccolò far longer than he wants anyone to know before his mind properly started to see a word and see it as a word, something more than a collection of letters but a thing that existed, definitively, in God’s world. بَيْت, what he and Yusuf have now had in Basra, Palermu, Fustat. مُحيط, like the Mare Nostrum. فَتاة, a girl like like the sister he left behind.

And then the door was opened, and Niccolò could read, or at least, understand this process of reading for himself, and more than that, he could see this part of Yusuf, so crucial to the soul he nad come to love and this heart he now held in his own. Yusuf loved words, and books, and writing, he loved his Book as the word of God to his prophet and he loved his books as connection to the mother who had first taught him suras and his father who wrote in three languages, and, he had once gold Niccolò in the quiet safety of their bed, in the night, with the first boy he had ever loved, the other star pupil at their madrassa with whom he would lie composing lines of poetry under a lemon tree.

Niccolò thought of Yusuf reading in the small, cool courtyard of the house in Damascus that would for this lifetime be their home, his mouth moving silently in prayer as his fingers followed reverently over the verses. He thought of Yusuf moving elegantly through the world, his speech dry and witty or educated where his own felt blunt, trading jokes and barbs back and forth in the tea house and the market. But mostly, Niccolò thought of Yusuf writing, face still with all the steady focus and silent reverence of prayer, bent over a carved rosewood writing desk, the sunlight streaming in through the windows setting his curls on fire. And his hands, so strong, so reliable, moving unerringly across the page, line after line of the script that Niccolò once feared and mocked because he feared but which he now knew could contain all the beauty of the world.

He practiced by writing to the those he loved but no longer walked the world.

Oum, today sun bright. I see roses in market. I think of you, when I see roses in market.

Abba, in house of God happy I know you are, happy makes it me.

Maria, to read you will love, i know. Your son man now. Good i know. Peace to you.

Niccolò burned the letters in a fire and hoped God would make it so his 'aa'ila could read them. Yusuf and Niccolò were both young in the business of being immortal. They had not learned to shoulder the pain of it yet, so they faced the loneliness, together and alone. Niccolò thought that he saw the appeal of letter writing, then, imagined a world in which he could have written his family from the Holy Land, told them that no matter how many infidels he killed to cleanse this world for the Cross he felt no closer to holiness himself, told them that the one he killed and killed and killed again he had found holiness in, told his parents that their son died and died and did not die. That he missed home, the rocky shores and fishing villages of Liguria, but that he missed them more, because his family was his home, even if there were things about him that he hid in the darker parts of himself because he knew they would never understand.

His sister’s grandchildren- or maybe her great-grandchildren, he wasn’t quite sure- were still alive, probably, but there wasn’t a way they’d respond well to the idea of a relative who’d have been forty years past death even without war sending them letters written in the alphabet they’d been taught to hate, if they could read at all.

With the ashes of his letters, he lets his family go, and prays God looks kindly upon them, and shows them mercy, and grants them peace and understanding. Every century or so, he’ll check in, he vows, even from afar, because he owes Maria that much. He hopes her son or his son or his son has not wasted his life to die in a war on foreign soil like he did, or that her daughter or her daughter or her daughter has not been left a widow.

Yusuf’s family still lived in Tunis. His sister Maryam took over the trading business after his death and made the al-Khaysani family a great name and funded many hospitals and houses of learning. News of her death reached Palermu weeks after the burial, and it was one of the few times in their long, long lives that Yusuf had to walk for months alone, to process a grief as large as the world. He let the waves of the sea and the sand of the desert swallow him again and again, and when he did not die, he rose and lifted his head to the sky and swore he would make the world as good as she wanted it to be. In every city they go to with a cathedral or even a baked mud church Niccolò lights candles for Maria and for Maryam. Santa Maria, madre de dio, they’ll pick up one day, in a language centuries off from existing. You know she is named more times in our book than yours, Yusuf told him in one one of their many cycles of death and coming back, when Niccolò called out for her, bleeding out on the sand.

When Niccolò found Yusuf again they stood with their hands clasped at her grave outside the medina and then they prayed and set off again. New cities, new tongues, new people. To avoid suspicion, they alter the sounds of their names to match the sounds of the city. Yusuf and Naaqid. Giuseppe and Niccolò. Nikolai and Iosef. Every death is shorter.

Yusuf forges the documents and the names, barters and trades, even makes several seperate respectable fortunes as a merchant of cloth and then spices before even claims of pomegranates doing wonders for one’s health start to wear a bit thin and they have to fake their deaths again. He writes, and though home quickly becomes what they can carry, he keeps sheaths of poetry in tiny, perfect script in his saddlebag, recites long poems as they make camp in the desert. Some were written by and for men like them. Others Yusuf tweaks the gender of, chooses inta over inti. Every time they die they leave a generous waqf behind.

Niccolò takes care of the horses, and then he tries to take care of people. He learns as much of these strange healing arts of the east as he can from Yosef, and then from a doctor in Basra and a Jewish apothecary in the city of Fustat. It is not blasphemy to try to know the body, he is deciding, it is not sacrilige to try as hard as one might to save a life. At some point, the knowledge goes beyond what he can remember or what a diagram can tell him, and so it’s in Damascus that Niccolò decides, even with his previous failed attempts at the aliph-baa, to ask Yusuf to teach him how to read.

And he does. It takes time, years, before he can, before he feels more man than child with a pen in his hand and he does not smear ink across the page. And there are limits. He is never a poet. His language is always more practical than- and this is a word that will not exist for centuries but that colors his memories even still- than romantic. For him heart is a thing of muscles and chords that powers a life. He reads and takes notes on Al Razi far more than Abu Nuwwas or al Muttanabi. Ibn Sina’s Canon of Medicine astounds him just as Ferdowsi’s perfect schemes of monorhymes entrance Yusuf. His sentences do not flow into rivers like Yusuf’s do. They build squat, strong houses. They encode information that Niccolò can leave behind when he dies, only to return to a century later and find that have been added on to by scholars after him, the foundations for someone else’s palace. Sometimes, the things he thought were true are completely washed away in the flood of some new discovery, and he prays and begs the forgiveness of all those he caused unnecessary pain in his ignorance.

But even in his clumsiness, the power of words surges through. Yusuf’s words and his love of words surges through to Niccolò in the years of learning, until Niccolò loves words too, just as Niccolò’s love of the sea and her many tempestuous moods and promise of infinite freedoms filters through to Yusuf. Yusuf translates texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and just as with Mary and Maryam centuries ago on a battlefield, Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling.

And Yusuf’s love of words surges up into Niccolò’s love of Yusuf too. It took him about three weeks after their initial truce to realise the man was soft, which then took him a few decades to find more endearing than annoying. That he liked sweet things and flowers and goddamn useless hobbies like calligraphy and drawing complex borders of tulips and interlocking knots along the borders of his writing papers. And he knew he was a good poet, to his own ears, that he fit words together nicely. But being able to read Yusuf’s poems, even the unwritten snippets he leaves scattered around the house, often unfinished, is something else entirely. A glimpse into being seen, by the person who sees him best. But God above, he doesn’t think anyone alive has had their eyes compared to the beauty of the sea after the desert quite so many times, or wrung as many turns of phrase from the has the double meaning of عَيْن.

“The world,” he says one night as they sit and watch night descend softly upon the City of Jasmine. It’s a city to make even the woman who will come knocking at their door in a matter of decades feel young and insignificant, and even the colloquial name suits Yusuf’s pretensions annoyingly well. Steam from cups of tea curls into the evening air. The smells of horse shit and rosewater both on the air. The calm cradle of the evening after the maghrib prayer. “You see it …” He does not know how to end it.

“How, then, do I see the world, hayati?”

“You see the stars above a battlefield. You see the stars and then the fields that will grow again after the ashes are tilled into the soil. You see stars as gems, and the windstorms of the desert is the finest music, if you would believe your poems.

“And you are angry that I have seen the good in the world? I would not call the man who came to a foreign land to kill the infidel and came to spend a hundred years learning best to save their lives a man who does not see beauty in unexpected things either.”

“You are-”

He looks for a word, any word in his mind that has learned so many. Unchanging would not be right for the man who once killed him so many times and learned Greek and Latin to read him the words of the Apostles as they were written, who has accompanied him on pilgrimages to Antioch and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. He has changed as much as Niccolò has. No, it’s something-

“You are looking at me as you look at your patients.” Yusuf reaches out and brushes back Niccolò’s hair. He kisses his forehead. A kiss from Yusuf, no matter how chaste or how many, still sends lightning through his body.

“As if you were ill?”

“No. You look with such focus upon the world, with so much kindness about how to help it heal.” For a time whose number has since gone beyond count, their hands interlink. “We cannot save the world, but we can save some, and by saving some, we can save the world. We will work to repair what is broken.”

“I have found the cause of your affliction.”

“What do you consider me afflicted by, Doctor Al-Zenowaizi?”

The word romantic is still more than six centuries out, although they’ll soon wander through Europe during the heyday of the romance, and Yusuf will even write a few himself in Occitan and Provençal. For now, though, the word carries the implications of Roma and the waning Basileion Rhomaion to the north, to the al-Rum rite of the Damascene churches he now celebrates the Eucharist in, the river of his faith turned down a different course. For now, though, the word romantic remains firmly in the future. No, it’s something else he thinks of.

“Hope. You have a most serious case of hope.”

“And what do you suggest as remedy, Doctor Al-Zenowaizi?”

Niccolò pulls him in for a proper kiss, long and deep and hot and sweet and bitter from the tea. He loses himself in the warmth of his body, his hands in the curls of his hair, and he thinks how blessed he has been by God that this is the man he has been destined to spend forever with.

“Albi, I do not think there is one. I think you have been cursed with an incurable case of hope.”

#the old guard #joe x nicky #the old guard fic #yusuf x nicolo #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #my writings

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junquisite · 4 years ago

Text

Escapades

WORD COUNT : 2.1K

WARNING : Suggestive

GENRE : Con Artist AU

She was staring at the mirror, trying to tie her hair up in a decent style when a pair of hands creeped from behind around her waist and she felt lips brushing on her bare neck.

“This dress is too showy. I don't want him to touch you in this.” Seungwoo mumbled in her neck and she smiled at his reflection.

“Just one more day.” she whispered as his grip tightened on her waist and slid down slowly, lower with each passing second. She felt the brush of lips turning to kisses and she sighed.

“You can't leave a mark Seungwoo. We can't ruin everything today at this point.” Byul whispered and Seungwoo groaned but unwillingly pulled away. He stared at her back as she dressed up, saw her putting on the heavy necklace that old man gifted her and imagined the different ways he can have his way with her with her only wearing that necklace.

“What are you thinking of? Get your mind out of the gutter.” she said with a small smile playing on her lips which Seugnwoo returned slowly.

“How do you know what i was thinking of?” he asked as he went down on his knees to help her wear the new pair of heels she got with the expensive designer dress she was wearing, by none other than that old man who’ll have his hands around her soon. He decided he’ll make her keep the heels on too with the necklace.

“You just get this look on your face, I can tell it from far away.” Byul said as his hands slowly raised away from her ankle to her knees.

“You said no where where he can see right?” Seungwoo mumbled with his lips pressed against her thighs visible from the high slit of the dress till her mid thighs, his hands slowly creeping up and under the dress, dangerously close to where she wanted him badly.

“We need to go down.” she whispered and then gasped, her hand coming up to her lips to not let the sound pass as she felt him bite at her inner thighs. She heard him chuckle and looked down to see him peeking from in between her dress and whined as he went back in and she felt his lips trailed the inside of her thighs.

There was a knock on the door which made her curse as she quickly looked at it and breathed a sigh of relief when saw it locked from the inside.

“Who is it?”

“Miss. Kim, Mr. Kang is expecting you down.” Byul heard from outside and heard Seungwoo curse softly as he separated himself from her.

“I’ll be down in 10 minutes.” she responded and heard the servant scurry off.

She turned to see Seungwoo wearing his tie and went to straighten it as he smiled down at her.

“Ready to go Miss. Kim Jisoo?” Seugnwoo asked Byul and she smiled.

“I am. Are you ready Mr. Im Jongin?” she asked and he nodded as he gave her his hand and she grabbed it, a soft smile gracing her lips as they left the room and separated their hands - him taking his place behind her.

“Aaah there she is, the bride of the hour!” a lady almost shouted as Byul reached the main party area and she smiled as she approached the lady standing with her to-be husband, Seungwoo a close step behind her.

“Jisoo-ah, you need to wear this all the time now.” the man she was supposed to marry said as she smiled and took the ring box and put on the 6 carat diamond ring as the lady beside her gasped.

“That's an impressionable diamond I must say.” she said and Byul smiled, she could practically hear the envy in her voice.

“Mr. Kang was nice enough to buy the ring my heart was set on.” she said as she felt the man slip his arm around her and felt Seungwoo stiffen behind her.

“And who's that if i may ask?” the lady asked Pointing at Seungwoo and Byul heard the old man beside her scoff.

“He’s the kind caretaker of my Jisoo here. He’s Jongin, a caretaker and a brotherly figure for Jisoo sent by her family.” he said and Byul smiled.

“Your family must be rich enough to have a caretaker for you?” the lady asked and Byul waved her hand. “It’s just something they thought i must always have - some sort of protection.” and pulled herself away from the old man and bowed at them.

“I’ll be taking my leave for now.” and went away, Seongwoo following her behind.

“Caretaker. I’ll never get used to it.” he mumbled as she strayed to a corner with a non-alcoholic drink in her hand, him behind her like a shadow as she surveyed the room.

“It's perfect. You can always stay with me.” she whispered as she saw one of the servers coming to her with an empty tray and bow at Seungwoo who carefully passed an envelope full of money to him.

They saw as he disappeared in the kitchen and came back with a tray full of drinks and started serving them, the drinks blood red and tempting.

“Aaah I think he have had one too many drinks.” one of the ladies chimed, equally red faced as the one beside her - barely able to stay straight on their feet but sober enough to comment about others. Typical rich people behaviour Byul thought as she tried to stop her to-be husband’s wandering hands - t Least in front of the wicked ladies.

“I think it’ll be best if i take him to bed.” Byul said but one of the ladies grabbed his hand.

“Let your caretaker take him, have one more drink with us dear Jisoo!” the lady said and Byul threw Seungwoo a helpless look who just smiled at her but she could sense the smirk under it.

“Take care of him Jongin-ssi!” one of the younger ladies said and Byul refrained herself from openly glaring at her - her looks were not decent, she was practically undressing Seungwoo with her eyes.

1 hour and only one drink for herself later, Byul managed to send all the guests away. The servants were given a night off to cool off before the stress of the wedding starts from the next day and they were finally home alone - her, Seugnwoo and the old 40-something man she was supposed to marry.

Detective Park rang the bell of the huge house and wondered if calling it a mansion would be better as the door opened to reveal a clearly tired servant and went inside to see the mood getting gloomier with every step.

A 40-something man - Kang Harin, CEO of a small but flourishing fishery business in the particular area, was throwing a child-like tantrum in his expensive looking but bare living room.

“That bitch took everything! She left nothing! She even took my designer suits!” The last line would have made the detective laugh if he didn't know that one of those suits was probably more then his monthly paycheck.

“Mr. Kang, I'm Detective Park, if you can just list all the items missing? You can add more stuff later but off the top of your head, what all is missing?”

The detective would have been dumb to ask what hapepend. He knew what happened. It was not the first time something like this took place - he has been monitoring other similar incidents that happened in other small parts of south korea in the past 7 years.

A couple - one of them would woo a rich person, the other some sort of person taking an important role - enough to be let around all the time but not important enough to be shifted the focus on to. And then before the marriage they'll disappear - with everything the person owned that was worth anything. The material would be later found out at different pawn shops stating they never took any stuff to be caught but only took the money.

An on duty officer came to him and handed him a list and he went through it - the list of articles stolen as of now. It had everything on it- from the jewellery to cash from the locker, cash from the hidden locker, gold from the office, electronics like mobiles and even the computer from the office, TV set and some of the small kitchen equipments, a couple of suits from the man’s closet, all of the designer bags and heels, all the jewellery he ever brought her and all the jewellery he owned (chains and rings) and even a few of expensive vases and art pieces that hanged on the wall. They left nothing!

“And there are no pictures left?” the detective asked the officer.

“We even questioned the visitors from yesterday's parties. No one had any pictures and one girl claimed to have clicked some but she said her phone stopped working in the morning suddenly. Some virus. Traces of the same virus were found in the security camera monitors of here and near this house and in the computer left with the message.” the officer said and detective Park raised an eyebrow, a message was new.

He went to the said laptop, apparently it won’t work but stuck on the screen it was showing. A picture of a Napkin with a kiss stain at the corner saying, It was fun but this was last. See you never!

He wondered vaguely if it was a message for him rather than the old man since he was the leader of a team made specifically to work on their case. Then he wondered if this was actually true and their last crime.

“So we again have nothing?” he asked the detective who had followed him.

“The man claims that they looked exactly like the sketches we have from the cases before just different hair? And roles too apparently. She was a lady of an old family and he was her caretaker. Names were Kim Jisoo and Im Jongin.” and Park sighed.

“Let's get going then. There's nothing more for us here.”

A week later

“Can I see your passport miss?” the airhostess at the entryway asked and Byul passed hers. Kang Daeum, it read.

“And yours sir?” Seungwoo passed his passport, the name reading Jung Jihoon.

“Have a safe flight ma’am, sir.” the hostess said and bowed down and they bowed back.

The clicks of her high designer heels were loud in the silent hallway to board the plane.

“Can't believe you kept those heels.” Seungwoo muttered from beside her as she smiled at him.

“You first decided at the pawnshop that you wanted to keep the necklace.” she said, her eyes no doubt holding the teasing that Seungwoo knew was bound to come behind her sunglasses. But he would never accept he was jealous.

“I like it though. You can keep on the heels too with the necklace whenever we get to the hotel.” he said, smirking as she lowered her sunglasses to stare at him, “Only those things on you though.” he ended, her hand shooting up to hit him on the chest, ready to yell if not for being at a public place as he chuckled.

After showing their boarding pass and settling down in the first class seats, he turned to her when she sighed, sliding down slightly in the comfortable chairs.

“Maybe you should consider dying your hair, I like this on you.” he said as he tugged at the blond wig she had on and she shrugged.

“Why not. We’re going to Bali, might as well look tropical.” she said and he laughed.

“Why not pink then?” he suggested and she smirked at him. “Only if you do blue.” and he smiled.

“Deal.”

It was late, night Seungwoo assumed since it was dark but who knows where they exactly were. All he knew was there was a vast expanse of water underneath the plane and the flight still had more than 7 hours left.

He saw on the side Byul shutting down her laptop.

“Are you tired?” he asked and she blinked at him taking out her headphones and shrugging.

“I can use some sleep.”

“I have other plans.” Seungwoo said as his hands sneaked underneath the blanket she had on her lap, squeezing her thighs as she looked at him, surprised.

“How do you feel about joining Miles high club?”

The smile that adorned her lips said she was in, and when she got up leaving the blanket behind, asking the air hostess where the restrooms were and winking at him before leaving, Seungwoo knew he had hit the jackpot with her.

Bali would be amazing, he whispered as he got up himself.

#victonwriters #victon smut #seungwoo smut #x1 smut #victon seungwoo #han seungwoo #victon scenarios #victon scenario #seungwoo scenarios #han seungwoo smut

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fourthwallhateclub · 3 years ago

Text

Help me

Description: Emma is with Phoenix when she is kidnapped, can Bravo set aside their emotions in time to save her, or will they be too late...

A/N: I wrote some things like this over on Ao3 under “FourthWallHateClub”, this will eventually have a second part but with my ADHD I don’t know when that will happen 🙃 please feel free to send feedback on the fix, I know it’s shit but I live for shit so 🤭

@rebelreblogs

Emma's POV

Darkness... Floating... Silence... My eyes fluttered open and started to adjust to the light... where was I? The door slammed open,

"You're awake!" Was that... was that an Afghan accent? Then it all came back to hit me like a freight train...

48 hours before hand

"Sup Dalton." I said.

"Shut it Hayes." He said pissed off.

I turned to Mac with a questioning look, "Who pissed in his coffee?"

Mac smirked, "Don't take it personally, he's not pissed with you, he's pissed with Maddie. He was on his way to a football game with one of our old delta buddies when he got the call."

"It's..." I glanced at my watch, "1300 hours?"

"We we're gonna have a few beers!" Dalton groaned.

'More than a few.' I mouthed to Mac, he just coughed to stifle his laugh.

Matty walked in, tapping the glass creating a privacy screen, and clicked a button bringing an image up on screen. "Amir-Botzwat-Asharu."

"10 of clubs..." I breathed out in disbelief.

"International arms dealer, drug trafficker-"

"and grade-A prick." Jack stated matter-of-factly.

Mac snorted, "You can say that again."

"The guys been evading Phoenix since it was OPS, us personally for years, why are we concerned about him now?" I wondered.

"What's this got to do with us, CIA took over the case, why now?" Jack asked.

"If you’d let me talk, you’d know,” Matty said sarcastically, “He recently kidnapped and murdered an American. Phoenix have had him on our radar for a while now as you’re aware but the higher ups refused to green light the op to take him out, saying CIA had it handled. That all went to hell when their undercover agent was exposed, they shot him and put a bounty on everybody CIA affiliated."She said.

"We're on their SOS list Matty, we outrank some shitty little 'bounty' list." I said.

"Regardless, you, Dalton and MacGyver leave for the Middle East at 1600 this afternoon so you arrive at night, get your affairs in order because the big men upstairs say you don't leave till the jobs is done. You'll be properly briefed on the plane, but there are more pressing issues, you guys have up to date parachute qualifications right?"

"I don't like where this is going..." Jack mused.

"Me either..." Mac agreed.

"As much as I hate agreeing with you two shmucks, me three..." I said.

"Well whether you like it or not your jumping from that plane, there's no where for it to land where you'll keep your cover. Unless you want to walk 13 miles to where you'll be staying?" She challenged.

"WE'LL JUMP!!" We said in unison.

She smirked, "That's what I thought."

"Okay... where exactly are we going in the Middle East, and where are we staying?" I asked.

"You are going to Afghanistan."

"Fucking Trashcanistan?!? You've got to be kidding." Jack screeched.

Ah Dalton and his hatred for that place... he would get along with Uncle Sonny, man has a fear of bloody everything...

"SHIT!!" I yelled.

All heads snapped to me, "What's wrong Hayes?"

"Um... where exactly would we be staying?" I asked biting my lip.

"Navy base in J-"

I laughed nervously, "Would that be in J-Bad by any chance?"

"Yes, why?" Matty asked.

"We have a little problem..." I mumbled.

"And what would that be..." She mused, raising an eyebrow.

"My uh- my family was spun-up there a few weeks ago." I said.

"What do you mean Em?" Mac asked.

"I mean my family, is Bravo team. They are currently in the Middle East, and are stationed in J-Bad for the foreseeable future. What do we do?"

"I'm assuming that they were not among the people you told about your job?" Matty asked.

"No ma'am. Mac, Dalton, Bozer and Riley are the only ones who know..." I answered.

"You arrive at night anyway, you cover your tracks and stay as hidden as possible, don't talk to anyone and stay away from the sailors. Nobody is to know what you're doing there or who you are... to them you three are Black Rose, Hunter, and Eagle." Matty said.

"Yes ma'am."

"Well... get out of here."

We didn't need to be told twice, we were running out the door and to the squad room.

"What the fuck do I do?!?" I yelled as we entered the room.

"Want a hug?" Mac asked opening his arms. I nodded and walked into him tucking myself into his figure, "You'll be ok."

Jack's POV

"Wait! Is your dad the Jason Hayes, like Bravo 1, the legend?!?" I screeched.

"Uh- yeah.." Emma said pushing away from Mac and scratching her head.

"That explains a lot..."

"What do you mean?" She was confused.

"I mean, having worked with your father, I see where you get it from."

She laughed, "You are so old."

I gasped, "You mean we are so old. Mac and I worked together in the Army."

“No. You? You're old enough to be my dad. Mac? Is old enough to be my big brother." She laughed.

"Yeah, and we'll protect you like it too." I said hugging her shoulder.

"You won't have to do anything if my family spots me. I'll be on the first plane out of there and back home, complete with a tracker and navy seal protection detail. They'll never let me out of their fucking sight." She grumbled.

"You'll be ok. Let's get ready to rak out." I said.

"You're right."

I walked into my office and grabbed my rucksack and duffel. I met them back in the main room.

"List it Hayes."

She groaned, "Why???"

I smirked, "We're acting like the older brother and dad we are."

She rolled her eyes but spoke anyway, "I made sure my camping gear, fatigues and survival gear was in my bergan, along with Guns, ammo, knife and spare phones," we looked at her weirdly, "What? I'm sick of Mac breaking my shit. Dalton and I spend way to much fucking time at the Genius Bar creating new and inventive covers to explain what Mac does as is."

Mac raised his hands, "You got me."

She smirked, "I know I do, anyway, I grabbed my go-bag, passport and fake ID's."

"What's in your go-bag." I quizzed.

"Toiletries, Clothes, Cash, Raincoat, Matches, Lighter, Laptop, Flashlight, MRE's, water purification tablets, rope, duct tape, whistle, batteries, knife, and First aid kit. Why do we keep doing this?"

"Good, and we do it because we care." Mac said kissing her head.

“Ugh! Let's go." We headed out to Mac's truck and dumped our stuff in the back. She hopped in the back and we drove to Mac's place.

"Bozer!" Mac called.

"Sup guys." He said bro hugging Mac.

"We're heading out, I need you to take care of some stuff for us." Mac asked.

"Yeah ok, let me grab some paper." He said.

We walked into the kitchen and told him what we needed, Mac didn't need to worry because he lived with Bozer, so Em went first, "My rent is due first of the month, it auto pays but I need you to check on the seventh if I have mail just in case it didn't go through. I need mail collected on the 7th, 14th 21st, and 28th. Plants need to be watered but that can be done when you grab my mail, if anything happens there is a contact sheet folded in the draw of my desk, it'll tell you who to call, in what order. You good with that?"

"All good Em." He said with a smile.

"Thanks Boz."

"Your welcome, Jack anything you need." He questioned.

"I live next to Emma so same as her just no plants to water, if you could check on my place when you water Emma's plants that would be great, and there is a contact list in the box on top of the CD rack."

"Cool, I got it."

“Thanks Boz." Mac said walking back into the room with his bag.

"It's all cool man." He said.

We walked to the door before he called out, "Be safe, I want you back in one piece."

"We'll try Boz."

~Time skip brought to you by Sonny’s Bam-Bam~

We'd been briefed and where currently in our hammocks grabbing what sleep we could before we hit the ground running.

"Drop zone is up in 35."

"Let's go kids." I commanded with a laugh.

We packed up our hammocks and pulled on our jump suits. I strapped my duffel to the bottom of my bergan and grabbed my chute. Strapping my Bergan to my back I pulled the parachute over the top. I walked over to the ramp and waited for Mac and Em to join me.

"2 minutes to the drop zone"

"Ready ladies." I yelled over.

"We're coming." Mac laughed.

We attached to the central line and clipped in, we watched as the light turned on and the ramp lowered,

"5...4...3...2...1..."

The light turned green and we jumped. My drill instructors voice went through my head. Breathing Dalton... in for 2... hold for 4... out for 3... parachute in 3, 2, 1. Pull the cord. Release the parachute. Move your body vertical. Feet pointed down. Legs slightly apart. Hit the deck in 3...2...1. Land crouched. Bend knees and run forward 20 yards. Unclip and pull.

Emma and Mac landed next to me and we packed up our chutes.

"Base is roughly 1 click 228 degrees north east." I said.

"Comms up?" Mac asked.

"Yeah they are." Matty answered.

"Good." I said. "Let's go."

We moved our bergans to our fronts and held our duffel bags. We broke out into a jog eager to get out of the heat. Arriving at the 'base' we were met with our assigned CIA handler.

"Agent Jayden Riggs." He said offering his hand.

I shook it, "I'm Eagle, this is Hunter and she's Black Rose."

"Real names?" He asked.

"That's need to know." Emma answered.

“What do you mean, I'm your handler?"

"Look Riggs, we don't like spooks ok. We work alone, off our own intel. It's important our identities remain a secret." She answered shortly, that's my Hayes.

"Alright then, let's get you set up in cabins, Black Rose, you'll be separated from the men." He said as he started walking away.

"What?" I said.

"Gender sensitivity. Men and women are separated." He said like it was obvious.

"Yeah no, she stays with us. We don't care about gender sensitivity." Mac said before I could, reel in the big brother before you get yourself in trouble Mac.

"It's protoco-"

I cut him off, "Screw protocol, Black Rose stays with us."

"Of course." He relented.

He led us to a cabin as a humvee pulled up, out climbed 6 men and a dog, all in fatigues, before I could see anything else Emma pushed us into the cabin and slammed the door shut behind us as we collapsed onto the floor.

"What was that??"

"That! Was my family." She helped us up.

Jason's POV

We were on night patrol in a neighbouring town to J-bad, we'd been out for 6 hours and it was 0300. I decided it was time to head back.

"Let's move out."

We walked back to the humvee and climbed in. We'd been driving for about 15 minutes when we saw three figures drop from the sky.

"What the hell is that?" Sonny asked.

"I'll find out." I said keying my comms, "Havoc base this is Bravo 1, we've got three parachute jumpers coming towards base."

"Copy that Bravo 1, I'll find out." Blackburn answered, a few minutes later he keyed his coms again, "Stand down, their friendlies."

"What do you mean their 'friendlies'?"

"I'll find out."

I rolled my eyes, cryptic much. We watched as they landed about 5 clicks ahead of us and packed their chutes away, then started running towards base.

"We're not far out now. We'll talk when we get in." I said.

We got to the base gate and rolled through, getting out I saw three figures standing outside a cabin glance at us before one pushed the others into the cabin and slammed the door. Weird. After we dumped our gear in the shed. We walked into the team room where Eric and Mandy were waiting.

"Who were they?" I asked.

"Apparently they work for some government agency, they're following a lead on a case." Mandy said.

"Which agency?" Brock asked.

"I don't know guys. I don't know..." Eric said.

"Why did they jump Eric? Why not just land on the airstrip?" I quizzed.

"Apparently they're meant to be discreet. Nobody was supposed to know they're here." Mandy said.

"Well they did a crap job of that." Ray said.

"Actually Ray, you guys weren't meant to be out tonight, had base been on routine nobody would have seen them come in." Eric spoke.

"Well that's creepy." Clay said.

"What do we know about these guys Mandy?" I asked.

"Two guys, one girl actually." She stated hint of amusement in her tone.

"A girl?!?" Sonny yelled.

"What? Don't think women can do the same jobs as men? Or are you just worried she's going to outshine you." Lisa interrogated.

"No but if she gets snatched we'll be the ones collecting her." He grumbled.

"So? If she's snatched it's going to be for bad intel, and unfair conditions. Not because she's a woman." Lisa challenged.

"Enough! What do we know about them?" I yelled.

"Their handler couldn't tell me much, mainly because he didn't know a great deal. However, their code names are Black-Rose, Hunter and Eagle. Their handler doesn't know their real names and I suspect that's by design." Mandy spoke.

"Ok. First off those why do those code names ring a bell, Second what do we know about the organisation they work for?" Clay asked.

"Honestly? Nothing. None of my bosses know who or what they are and the further up I went the more I was told to stop digging." Mandy said.

"So what do we do?" Trent asked.

"We stay away. We don't talk to them, not only for your safety but for theirs too. You see them walking you say nothing, although I suspect given all the trouble they went to so they weren't seen while getting here, we won't be seeing an awful lot of them." Eric mused.

"Alright then." I said clapping my hands, "We need to sleep." I turned to Eric, "I trust if you find anymore information that could be of use you'll speak to us?"

"Of course." Eric said nodding curtly before walking out of the room.

#jason hayes #ray perry #sonny quinn #mandy ellis #lisa davis #trent sawyer #brock reynolds #clay spenser #eric blackburn #seal team #macgyver #angus macgyer #jack dalton #emma hayes #rebels reblogs #author can't write #author thrives off not knowing what they're doing #author seriously doesn't know how to tag

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rainnydayzz · 4 years ago

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Anastasia - PaTB AU

My turn to hop on this Pinky and The Brain Disney, only this time I’m using a princess that’s Disney on a technicality. Let me introduce to you: Pikastasia.

Okay let’s meet out characters shall we?

Anastasia - Pinky (Pinkastasia)

Dimitri - Brain

Vlad - Yakko

Sophie - Dot (For obvious reasons Yakko and Dots connections with each other will be based off of their sibling relationship)

Bartok - Wakko

Rasputin - Snowball (Snowputin)

The Dowager Empress Marie - Nora Rita Norita

Phlegmenkoff - Dr. Otto Scratchandsniff

So this is the list of main characters that will be mostly in the film, extras can be whomever. Now I’d also just like to clear up for those still confused about Vlad and Sophie, yes they are in a romantic relationship in the movie and that helps them get to the Dowager, so obviously that’s NOT an option, so their sibling relationship will help them in this case.

I’m not really changing the rest of their names cause frankly I don’t feel like it, so if you want to that’s fine.

Onto the story premise!

So in this version the main story stays kind of the same. Brain, with his bud Yakko are trying to take over Russia by finding someone to impersonate the long lost princess, Pinkastasia. He’s been trying to find a suitable actor for months now, once he finds the perfect person, they will learn the part, go to Paris, and convince the Dowager and get her reward money. With this they can earn her trust and with their money, take over Russia, and then with Russia’s resources, The World. It was the perfect plan.

Pinky leaves the orphanage (Scratchandsniff kicking him out) like in the film as well. He wanders around for a bit, sings his lovely song and all that Jazz.

When he makes in to Russia he realizes he doesn’t have all the correct resources to leave Russia and an old lady directs him to a man named The Brain, who might be able to help. She gives him directions to the old palace and he sets off.

When he makes it the the palace he can’t help but feel it’s familiar to him- but that’s crazy. Of course Pinky has another musical number here and it’s lovely.

The Brain and Yakko hear something from inside the palace and go to investigate. After a bit of cat and mouse, pun very much intended, they catch the intruder, another mouse. Taken aback by the uncanny resemblance of the princess Brain and Yakko are speechless for a moment. But only a moment.

Brain notices quickly that Pinky isn’t the sharpest toll in the shed, and knows he can use that to his advantage. He briefly mentions to Yakko his plan and the two of them agree. After a little persuasion Pinky agrees, after all, he had no memory of his past life- who’s to say he isn’t the princess?

The group make their way from the scene and we see Bartok- er Wakko for the first time talking to himself about the princess, with an odd green vile next to him. It becomes alive at the notion of Pinkastasia still being alive and flys him to the underworld/purgatory. We meet Snowball/Rasputin here. We learn of his curse and his pledge, I don’t exactly remember when he sings his song but that happens eventually.

Pinky, Brain, and Yakko begin their journey to Paris, teaching Pinky how to act and talk like a princess. While Brain and Yakko are giving Pinky information about Pinkastasia’s life, Pinky offers answers and details that they weren’t aware of.

They get on a train, and it goes the same as the film, wrong passports and then a lovely fire filled compartment. They jump for it and continue their journey.

After the lovely travel song they make it to their ship.

Once on Brain offers Pinky a dress he thought he might like, only because he’d been wearing the same scraps since they met of course. YES OF COURSE THEY DANCE AND IT’S BEAUTIFUL. Anyway, when getting ready for bed Pinky notices a lovely music box, wondering why Brain would own something like that he attempted to open it, only it was locked. He put it back and went to sleep.

Pinky has a night terror inflicted by Snowputin and Brain saves him from jumping overboard during the crazy storm.

They finally arrive in Paris where they are quickly greeted by Sophie/Dot. After seeing her brother the two embrace and are let inside. Pinky gives the rundown of everything he’d been told about Pinkastasia and Dot is impressed. When asked how he could’ve possibly escaped the palace during the fire Brain realized he hadn’t told Pinky anything about that and panics. Only to his surprise, Pinky gives as answer, and a correct one at that! Brain had never told anyone about “Opening a wall”. And yet... Then it struck him. He went outside to collect his thoughts.

Yakko comes out happily explaining they could find the Dowager at the ballet later that evening, only to see Brain wasn’t as excited as he ought to be. Brain tells Yakko that Pinky is truly Pinkastasia. He tells Yakko about the “opening wall” and how he was the boy who had done it. Yakko tells Brain he ought to tell Pinky but Brain refuses, this changes nothing.

Dot invites the group to a night out in Paris! They shop and go to expensive restaurants. Pinky purchases a new dress and Brain has a hard time processing his emotions, he figured they were irrelevant, but managed to compliment him anyway. Why?

The whole night Brain couldn’t stop thinking about how Pinky was really Pinkastasia. He needed to get him to the Dowager as soon as possible- for the money of course.

After the ballet Brain reassures Pinky that everything is going to be okay after noticing how he was on edge. Pinky and Brain make their way through the crowd and Dot loudly exclaims that he is not to enter, with a wink. The Dowager is not impressed however and still refuses to see anyone else about being the princess. This is when Pinky overhears how Brain was notorious for having people impersonate the princess, and how he was probably just in it for the money and it’s not the first time. Pinky’s obviously hurt that he was lied to. Brain tries to explain himself but Pinky won’t hear it and runs off.

Hurt and desperate Brain finds the Dowager’s automobile and pretends to be her driver. After speeding through the streets of Paris with the Dowager screeching at him to let her out, Brain stops in front of where they were staying. He shows the dowager the music box he has, knowing he had acquired it from the palace all those years ago. He said he was the boy that had opened the wall, and bagged her to talk to Pinky. The Dowager was surprised by this development and agreed.

Entering the room Pinky was supposedly in, she found him packing his bags. She offered to talk, but Pinky felt guilty and didn’t want to hurt her any further. However after noticing Pinky’s necklace, the Dowager pulled out the music box. Brain’s music box! The dowager asked to use the necklace and unlocked the music box that played a quiet little tune. The two sang their song and Pinky knew he was the long lost Princess. For real.

We are now in a large plush home with Pinky and the Dowager, they’re talking about the past and its lovely being able to be with each other again. There’s also a quick mention of a ball in celebration for Pinky’s return.

Pinky is getting dressed up for the event and Brain runs into him as he’s going to see the Dowager. The exchange quick conversation and Brain goes to see Nora. She offers him his money, only for him to refuse it. She’s surprised, he brought Pinky back to her and saved their lives, and yet he wants nothing? She sends him on his way and he again sees Pinky on his way out. Pinky wishes him well with his cash and Brain leaves with a heavy heart, not mentioning he refused the cash. It was easier to leave with Pinky believing he had.

During the ball Pinky feels out of wack. Why wasn’t he happy? This was probably the most important night of his life! He was with his family, there was food and music! Everything was perfect, and yet something wasn’t right. The Dowager wasn’t a fool, and explained that while they were together again, he could still make his own choices. She also mentioned Brain hadn’t taken the reward when Pinky tried to use it against him. Pinky realized Brain must’ve had a change of heart, but if so, why didn’t he say something?

Suddenly he was distracted by a little dog who had run into the palace only to run back out. He followed the dog through the large maze behind the palace. It was dark and the dog had disappeared. An evil laugh rang through the air as Pinky was officially introduced to Snowputin in all his undead glory. He introduced himself but Pinky had a lingering thought that he’d seen him before. Snowputin confirmed this and explained Pinkastasia was the only reason he was still here, and he had a job to finish.

Fearing for his life Pinky tried to run, but Snowputin used his powers to change the surrounding scenery, and Pinky realized he was on a stone bridge. Wakko who’d been doing his bidding throughout the entirety of the sketch opted out, claiming it would only end in tears, and went to find his sibs.

Snowputin began to destroy the bridge, and Pinky with it- until he heard someone call to him. Pinky recognized the voice instantly- Brain had come to save him! Oh good!

Snowputin smiled an wicked smile and shot a spark at a stone hoarse statue (Yes this can be Phar Fignewton if you’d like) Either way it came flying down to Brain, as it had been given wings, and picked him up, only to drop him from a height and come barreling down onto him, though he’d luckily rolled out of the way before he was crushed.

Snowputin had been distracted long enough for Pinky to climb up the collapsing bridge and tackle Snowputin. Pinky was unfortunately over powered and was sent off the side of the bridge- though he felt his had get caught be someone else. Brain had made his escape from the hoarse and grabbed Pinky. Snowputin was infuriated and hit Brain out of the way, he zapped some more of the bridge and sent it crumbling down on brain, knocking him unconscious, though Pinky had managed to grab onto Snowputin and hit his vile out of his hands. Enraged Snowputin yelled and Pinky to give it back, of course Pinky was furious as well at this point and began to crush the decorated glass.

Upon destroying the relic, Snowputin began to deteriorate as his soul was fused to it. He screamed and turned to dust. Pinky didn’t have time to process that of course, Brain was hurt. He ran over to him and shook him slightly, thankfully he awoke groggily. Pinky was overjoyed, as was Brain, though his whole body hurt. Brain tried to explain to Pinky how he was sorry about lying to him, but Pinky didn’t want to hear it, he was just glad he had come back and had a change of heart. The two hold on to each other a moment longer, Pinky’s large blue eyes had entranced Brain, his feelings from earlier had come surging back at full force, he felt- well he didn’t know what he felt, but he didn’t want it to go away.

Pinky lowered his face to meet Brain’s, and the two didn’t separate for several moments. Brain didn’t want to be away from Piny again. And they weren’t, Pinky decided he wanted to make a life for himself, and after finding who he was, he wanted to find out what he could become. Him and Brain decided to go their own way together, and though Brain had a change of heart from this scheme doesn’t mean he completely gave up on his lifelong conquest to take over Russia, or the world. Only this time, Pinky would accompany him, someone had to keep him honest.

So there we have it! The premise of the movie told very poorly through a Tumblr post. I like to think if this were just another sketch Yakko would point out the kiss wasn’t scripted but no one dared bring it up.

I will also be working on concept sketches with all the characters in their respected outfits, I can’t wait to draw Pinky in all those dresses, especially those pajamas Anastasia wears near the end of the film.

#PaTB AU #Pinky and the Brain #animaniacs #PaTB anastasia AU #Pinkastasia #concept #warner siblings #i spent too much time on this

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wondershawns · 4 years ago

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Secret| Part 4| #ShawnMendesWritingCircle

A/N: We’re back babyyyy! Here’s my addition to Secret, here are part one, part two and part three, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3588

“You don’t reply to me and ignore my calls for three weeks to tell me you need me?” The relief you had felt when he picked up washed away with that first sentence.

Shawn had every right to be mad, you had expected it, but it didn’t hurt any less. You were already so distraught, your heart hammering in your chest as you thought of a way to get out of your mother’s claws. Knowing Shawn might just tell you to go deal with it yourself scared the hell out of you. You didn’t deserve his help, but you had no way out without him.

“Shawn,” You hiccuped, unable to string a coherent sentence together. Your heart was beating too fast, your entire body was shaking with panic, but somehow hearing his voice made it even worse.

“No,” His voice was rough, seconds away from breaking. “No you don’t get to be the one crying right now. I’ve been trying so hard,”

“I know,” You managed through a whisper. “I’m so, so sorry,”

“You better have a fucking good reason for this, because in case you didn’t notice I’ve been needing you for the past three weeks, and you didn’t give a fuck,” There was pain in his voice, but most of it was hidden through his anger.

You took the blow as well as you could, your heart shattering from his tone. He was the only man you ever fell in love with. You had always thought love would be this incredibly beautiful thing, but all you had done was hurt the person you cared about the most, and you were about to make things even worse.

“My mother found me,” You dropped the news, unable to keep on apologising. It was all meaningless to him anyway, you being sorry didn’t change the fact that you had been tearing him apart.

“What?” The anger was gone from his voice when he breathed the word out, shock replacing it for long enough that he forgot all about what you had done.

All of the problems of your relationship got pushed aside in Shawn’s brain, boxed away and replaced with worry instead. He couldn’t bear the thought of knowing you weren’t safe.

“She- she knows about you, she’s got people at my place moving my things out, please Shawn, please I need you,” You had no other option but to beg. You needed his help, and it was too late not to involve him. Your parents knew, as awful as it was, being close to him was the best way to protect him from now on, and it was all you had ever been trying to do.

“Where are you?” Shawn swallowed heavily, the reality of the situation hitting him. He was angry, he was hurt, he was in more pain than he could express because he was lost in his feelings for you and your lack of attention, but he could never bring himself to stop caring about your safety. You could grow apart and become strangers but he’d always help you.

Some would say that meant you had control over him, but Shawn liked to think his willingness to help was more about the kind of person he was than about you. You needed it, you wouldn’t call for nothing, and he would hate himself if he simply let you struggle when he could have done something. He always tried his hardest to be kind, no matter what.

“I’m still at work,”

“Do you have your passport with you?” He glanced at his manager beside him. Andrew was busy updating his schedule for the next week, headphones covering his ears, so Shawn knew he wasn’t listening in.

“Y-yeah,” You tried not to sniffle too loudly. Shawn was right, you had no right to be the one crying to him right now.

“Do whatever you need to get to the airport. We can talk when you get here,” He was far from about to forget the way you made him feel, but there was something more important going on for now.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” You glanced towards the corridor you hoped your mother wouldn’t be in. If she saw you trying to leave that’d be the end of it, you’d get no other chance.

“I’m in the same city for the rest of the week, figure out a lie and get to a taxi,” Shawn threw the plan in your face without waiting for you to answer. You’d have to figure some things out yourself, there was only so much he could do. “I’ll book the flight for you, you’ll be safe as soon as you get past security controls.” The words helped you feel a little better, if Shawn thought you could do it then maybe it was possible. His reassurance was all you needed, but his next words tore into your heart like someone had been twisting a knife into it. “I’m still really fucking mad at you, by the way,”

“I’m sorry,” You didn’t know what else to say as your eyes darted across the room, trying to see through the glass if anyone was in the corridor you’d have to rush through to get out.

“Yeah you’ve said that. What matters right now is that you get somewhere safe, so hurry, yeah?” He couldn’t bring himself to continue speaking about it, he didn’t want to say something he might regret out of anger, and you had other things to keep at the centre of your attention.

“Okay,” You swallowed heavily, mentally going over ways to get to the airport without being seen.

“Go, I’ll email you the boarding pass once I have it. Text me when you’ve got it and tell me once you’re past security,”

“Thank you,”

“Just… sure, whatever,” Shawn couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to stop himself from crying when he hung up. “Andrew?” He tapped his manager’s shoulder, and the older man immediately saw on his face that he needed something serious.

“Yes kid?”

“Can I borrow your laptop?”

You ran out.

It was your only option, you ran out of the building as quickly as you could before your mother could stop you were gone. You’d need the longest head start you could possibly get. Your mother would see you were gone in less than ten minutes, and then she’d let your father know. Guessing the events that would ensue was easy, they’d expect you to go to your place, to a friend’s, or to the airport. You silently prayed they wouldn’t freak any of your friends out, but you weren’t too worried about their safety. You were worried about yours, and Shawn’s.

You were thankful taxis weren’t too scarce around your workplace, and you managed to hop into one before you were even down the block.

“Where to?”

“The airport please, I’m kind of in a rush,”

“Alright,” The man drove off while you exhaled shakily.

You were far from done escaping. An anxious chuckle escaped your lips when you realised the situation you were in. You looked like you came straight out of a movie, jumping into a taxi and hurrying to the airport without so much as a change of clothes packed. You didn’t even have a phone charger, but you could always buy one of those once you were waiting for your flight.

Shawn was right, you’d be safe past security. It would take your parents too much effort and time to get a boarding pass to be able to make it to the gates, and then they’d have to find where you were going. They could pull a lot of strings, but accessing airport security cameras was something even they wouldn’t be able to do.

Still, you only managed to breathe properly once you were in the air.

Shawn had found a flight you barely had enough time to get on, which was stressful but made sure you wouldn’t have to spend time waiting. You thanked him again when you replied to his text and let him know when the flight took off like he had asked you to. As angry as he might be you knew he’d be worried, and the last thing you wanted was to add more negativity to the way he felt about you.

“Shawn asked me to pick you up,” Brian explained as you followed him to a rental car he had parked close to the exit. “I wouldn’t have if he didn’t insist. You fucked up big time, I don’t know why he’s doing this, but I know I wouldn’t have.” He buckled his seatbelt and drove off a little faster than he needed to. Your heart jumped in your chest, he knew too well that you hated when people went over the speed limit, and you were stressed enough as it was.

“I know,” You took the hit without defending yourself. You did fuck up. It was only right that Brian hated you at the moment, he was Shawn’s best friend, and he had his best interests at heart way before yours.

“Hope you have a good apology prepared. He’s been a wreck since you stopped talking to him with no explanation, and he’s still been on stage every night,”

The rest of the drive was silent. It was uncomfortable for you and so awkward you almost burst into tears right there. The Brian you knew was always cheerful, there wasn’t much that could make him mad, and you had never thought he’d be so angry at you. He knew how to be icy when someone he loved was hurt.

Somehow, you knew this was only preparing you for how much worse you’d feel in front of Shawn.

You got to the arena way too soon for your liking, you were almost getting used to trying to make yourself disappear while Brian drove. Facing anyone from his team would be too much, they must have heard something was wrong from Shawn, and you were sure they felt the same way Brian currently did towards you.

You didn’t get to see many people before you reached Shawn’s dressing room, dropped off there by Brian who knocked on the door and turned away to leave you alone.

You wished he didn’t, you could have used a few more seconds to figure out what you wanted to say to Shawn.

“Hi,” You cleared your throat, barely looking up at him and opting to stare at your feet instead when he opened the door. “Thank you,”

“Yeah, hi,” He didn’t try to fake a smile, struggling to pick words to say to you. He didn’t want to hurt you more than necessary, but you broke his heart and he didn’t feel particularly inclined to spare your feelings. Shawn figured keeping his mouth shut was better for now. “Come on,” He let you in, closing the door behind both of you.

Everyone on the team knew you were coming, and they knew better than to risk interrupting. They were all confused about you joining when they had seen Shawn turn into a mess over the past few weeks, things didn’t make sense, but they might get answers once you had sorted yourselves out. Shawn was an open book for the people close to him, so they settled for patience rather than prying.

“You don’t have anything with you?” He noticed the only thing you had to put down in a corner was your handbag.

“I couldn’t go back to my place,” You shook your head, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry about everything Shawn,” You mustered the courage to look into his eyes, it was the least you could do when you apologised.

“An explanation would be nice.” He couldn’t hide the tick in his jaw when he clenched it. He was past the point of needing an apology, he needed to understand.

“I was trying to avoid this,” You were about to serve him the same excuse you already used before, the one he refused to accept and led you into this situation.

“This?”

“My parents knowing about you. I just wanted you to be safe,”

Shawn held back a dry chuckle at that, he had heard this too many times already.

“I can take care of myself,” He hated that you were making this decision for him again, like he couldn’t understand the risks, like he couldn’t decide wanting to be with you.

“You don’t know what they’re capable of,” You shook your head, too scared to care that he couldn’t stand your excuse. You were terrified of your parents and the power they had.

“Yet we’re here now,” He threw it in your face, grabbing some clothes he had hanging in the room, preparing himself to leave. He couldn’t take seeing you for longer than that. He wasn’t sure you would ever make up, but if you did it wouldn’t be in the small amount of time he had left before the show. He needed to be with his band to fall back into the right mindset.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything, for getting you stuck in this and for hurting you. I never wanted that,” You stepped out of the way, trying your best not to be an inconvenience.

“Yeah, well, it’s a bit late for that.” He bit the inside of his cheeks so that he wouldn’t cry. “I’ve got things to do, you can stay here and hang out backstage when the show starts, but I don’t really want to see you before I get on stage.”

“Of course, whatever you need,”

“Needed you three weeks ago.” He barely muttered before slamming the door, biting into his fist as soon as you couldn’t see him to hold back a sob.

You watched the show hidden backstage, far from anyone you knew well on the team. Some crew members from the arena were around, and you didn’t mind them because they weren’t close to Shawn. Anyone that loved him hated you right now, you were better off staying out of their faces.

The tension was palpable when you got into the same car as Shawn to get back to the hotel. You congratulated him on the show, you always did, and he said thank you out of habit. That was the only bit of conversation until you reached his room.

His team didn’t really know what was wrong, and Shawn didn’t want them to know how damaged your relationship was, so he refrained from going through the hassle of asking them to book another room for you. This would be easier for you to talk anyway, he wasn’t about to go to sleep, he wanted answers.

“I can sleep there,” You murmured, motioning to the couch. You felt small and the most vulnerable you ever had around him. He had always made you feel safe, but right now he had the power to rip your apart with just a few words. The way he rolled his eyes almost made you flinch, you deserved every bit of pain but it all stung just the same.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He went to his suitcase and rummaged through it, carelessly messing up clothes that were previously folded. “There,” He handed you his sweatpants and a t-shirt of his. “We’re both sleeping in the bed,”

“Thank you,” You accepted the clothes hesitantly, starting to change the second he was gone in the bathroom.

He could have easily given you merch to wear, but he knew how much you hated wearing new clothes without washing them first. Somehow, even after you went and broke his heart, he managed to care about you enough to make you comfortable. He was silent when he handed you a clean toothbrush from the pack he carried around, letting you take a turn in the bathroom without needing to mention you could use anything you needed.

You made yourself as little as possible when you slid under the bedsheets, adjusting them on you and feeling completely out of place. The room was unfamiliar, and the bed was foreign and uncomfortable. You could have gotten over any of these things if only Shawn would at least look at you.

“You could have said something,” He eventually broke the silence, his voice loud and clear in the empty room.

“What?” Your voice barely held to the end of the word. You had expected to cry, but you didn’t think it would be this hard to hold back.

“You didn’t have to just cut me off. That’s not fair, you could have just told me you didn’t want me,” Shawn ignored how small your voice sounded, refusing to put you first this time. He was hurt, and it was your fault. You deserved to feel bad.

“I did want you,”

“Funny way of showing it,” He clenched his fists so hard his nails were painfully digging into his palms under the bedsheets.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, but I know that doesn’t make up for it.” You apologized again, trying to find something better to say to him. “I was just… I felt so awful anytime I thought they could find out about you, I knew I had to avoid that at all cost, because I know how horrible they are. I couldn’t let them know where I was or that I was with you, but I guess I failed at that, and I still fucked up with you,”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Shawn ran a hand over his face, wondering how the hell you ended up here like this. “Three weeks. Three. Fucking. Weeks. Do you even realise how long that feels when I’m away?” He stared at the ceiling rather than at you, he knew he’d cry if he did. “It felt like fucking forever, because I knew our relationship was a mess and I was dying to come home to fix it so I put everything I had into it, and you just ignored me.” His voice cracked at the end, but he tried to hide it with a cough, too angry to let himself be overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered even though he wasn’t done blowing up at you.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. You didn’t even have the guts to be honest. Saying you’re sorry is too easy, just ignoring me was too easy,”

“It wasn’t easy,” You tried to protest, but his huff cut you off. If the lights had been on you knew his glare would have iced you on the spot.

“It was. You took the easy way out, you did it when I was in another country, too busy to do anything, stuck. You did it with a shitty excuse because you weren’t willing to fight for what we had,” He accused you, he had put so much time and energy into making things work, but you never returned the favor.

“Of course I was willing to fight for us Shawn, but not when it puts your life at stake. Not when I could be the reason your career is ruined,”

“I’m not an idiot, you know that, right?” His response was harsh, if he heard you say you were trying to protect him one more time he would actually lose it.

“I never said that,”

“Then you know I understood what I was getting into the second you told me the truth. I always knew the risks, but fuck it, I still thought you were worth it all,” The fact that he spoke in the past tense scared you. You knew you had a lot of amends to make, but you still had a little bit of hope when it came to being with him.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered. “You’re right. I fucked up, and I don’t know what I can ever do for you that will make up for that. I’m just… I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you, I wish I could take that away,”

“Me too.” He put an end to the conversation, turning onto his side away from you.

The darkness of the room suffocated you. You hated sleeping with the blinds completely closed but you knew that was how Shawn got the best sleep, so you used to compromise by telling him he had to hold you. You liked the safety of seeing what was around the room, but when you had the safety of his arms you could forget about it all. He was next to you now, but he felt like miles away.

Your mind was running too fast for you to hope to get any sleep, but you’d stay still to make sure you wouldn’t bother him. There wasn’t much you could do for him to make up for the pain you had caused, your best bet right now was to stay out of his way. He needed to focus on his tour, not on the problems you had brought into his life.

“Shawn?” You called out anyway to add one last thing you needed to say before you could try to rest.

“What?” His reply came out softer than you thought it would be, so the next words rolled off your tongue easily.

“Thank you, for helping me.” You wiped your eyes silently to get rid of the tears. “I don’t deserve that from you right now,”

“I told you before that I’d do anything for you, guess I still sort of mean it.”

Please reblog and let me know what you thought! Your feedback really means a lot to me!

#secret #shawnmendeswritingcircle #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes writing #writing #fic #angst #fluff #shawn #mendes

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thorne93 · 4 years ago

Text

The Stars Made Us (Part 19)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1625

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamfears thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, I miss you,” Charles cooed into the phone. It almost sounded like a plea to come back.

“You’re the one who told me to stay,” you reminded, amused.

“I know, I know. I’m just feeling a bit selfish and greedy is all. How much longer do you think?”

“We still have a long way to go. He’s getting ready to move. All of his things are boxed up. He can’t afford to stay here any more. I’ve temporarily relocated my office to the city.”

There was a pause. “Oh, well, sounds like you’re getting quite cozy down there.”

“It’s not like that, you know that.”

“Actually, I don’t. I know I said you should stay with him, and I still believe that. He’s still your other mate. But right now, none of us know what happens once he’s better.”

You nodded, chewing your lip. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking about that too. But I can’t plan for the future. I am still yours though, I am still all yours. I am in love with you and I won’t make any decision without talking to you.”

He sighed. “I love you too. I know. I’m just… I’m going a bit stir crazy over here. I just got you, after ten years. I just don’t want to lose you to someone else, that’s all.”

“You won’t, you can’t. You’re the most important person in the world to me, darling. You know that.”

He hummed. “Yes, yes I do. Keep in touch. I love you. Despite my flare of jealousy, it’s only rooted in wanting to see you, that’s all. But I do support you.”

“And I’m the luckiest woman in the world for it. Talk to you soon. I love you, bye.”

“Bye.”

With that, you hung up and got Stephen’s bedroom straightened up . He’d be home soon from his physical therapy appointment.

And as if on cue, the door opened to the apartment.

“Y/N!” he called out. “I’m back.”

You came out and greeted him, happy to see him. “How was it?” You began to get his lunch ready as he told you about his appointment.

“It was good, rather informative actually.”

“Oh? That sounds promising.”

Between Christine and Stephen you’d heard all about his expensive, experimental surgeries with no hope in sight. So any time he got good news of any kind, but especially about his hands, you rejoiced. This meant you were a step closer to making him into the man he was before the accident. A man you could possibly fall in love with and then…

Well that remained to be seen, didn’t it?

“The guy who does my therapy told me about a guy who had a shattered spine, confined to a wheelchair. He said he’s walking now. He pulled his file. I looked at the x-rays. He is totally cured. I want to go talk to him, see how he fixed it.”

“Okay, yeah,” you said, trying to wrap your mind around it and put off your astonishment. “Yeah, let’s go meet him.”

The following day, you both planned on going to see the miracle patient but your work called you away. You had a patient have a breakdown at the hospital and you had to meet him. Stephen went alone, and when you met back at the apartment, he told you what he’d found.

“He told me that he sat with a teacher, at a place called Kamar-Taj. He said that he elevated his mind and spirit and it healed his body.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Really? A healer? That was the big miracle?”

“Yes. He said the cost is high, but you don’t pay a dime of money. It must just be some advanced medicine that is hard on the body, that’s experimental.”

“And you want to go there?” you asked, curious.

He scoffed. “Please. Some kind of crazy healer? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not. Stephen, you love your work, so far you’ve stopped at nothing to get better. While I believe this is a bit of mania on your part, I also completely understand where you’re coming from. So if you want to do this as a last resort, I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not that bad of an idea…”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not. At any rate, what have you to lose?”

“So you think I should go? To see some strange witch doctor?”

You peered at him with a bemused grin. “Between the two of us, who believes in the love that binds two peoples souls?”

He made a face and rolled his eyes. “Right, I forgot.”

“It can’t hurt. Every other doctor has slammed the door in your face for the same reasons you used too -- you’re untreatable and that harms their reputation. No glory to heal what can’t be healed, and you can’t waste time trying. If this place really did fix this guy, then I think you should do it.”

You could almost hear the gears in his head turning.

“Alright. Yeah, let’s do it. You’re right. I don’t have anything to lose at this point. I’ll start looking into how to get there. You may want to tell Charles you’re coming home,” he informed as he walked over to his laptop.

“Oh, I’m not going home. No, if you’re going on this little adventure, I’m coming too. You can’t be alone. You’re still highly depressed and you need me.”

“Wow, and they say I’m arrogant,” he remarked with a smirk that made your knees weak

“You are. I’m just confident.” You winked at him. You told him you’d call Charles once you found out where you two would be traveling to.

You went into the small office that was now empty except for the furniture. The sight made you sad for Stephen. You called Charles, knowing he wouldn’t be thrilled, but would probably be accepting of the issue.

“Hello, love,” he greeted happily.

“Hi, darling. Um, we have some news,” you announced.

“Oh?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

“Yeah, so apparently Stephen met up with a patient that had a spinal fracture completely corrected. He sought him out and told him of a place to go.”

“What? Like some experimental clinic or?”

“Not quite. We’ve found that the place should be in Nepal, possibly Kathmandu.”

Silence fell over the line. “Nepal? And when are you leaving?”

“As soon as we can. The movers come tomorrow to take his things to his new place.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I have no idea. Just like I had no idea how long I’d be there with you,” you reminded.

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“What?” you wondered, “I know this isn’t what we wanted or expected--”

“No, it isn’t. I don’t ever want to tell you what you can and can’t do, that’s why I gave you my blessing to go, but has it crossed your mind that this affects me too?”

“Of course it has. I think about you nonstop when I’m not helping Stephen. You know he’s my other mate. He’s just as damaged as you were, you were the one to remind me of that. I can’t half-ass my work on him, not as a doctor or as a mate.”

“Meanwhile, I’m feeling like an afterthought.”

You let out a sigh. “That's not fair, Charles. I don’t mean for you to feel that way, I’m sorry. But at the same time, you and I had ten years together through communication, and almost a year together in person. Stephen and I, we’ve only known each other a month. Not only do I need more time to help him heal, we deserve the time. I’ll come by in the morning to grab some things and my passport.”

“So this is it? You’re just going to run off and join him in some country?”

“How is this any different than when I came to you when you needed help? I’m either here in Manhattan or in Nepal.”

“It’s very different, Y/N. Right now you’re only a couple hours away. You go to Nepal with a TBD return date, it… it puts me on edge.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m sorry… But I have to go. He needs me.”

“I need you too, you know.”

“And I will be there for you as soon as I finish helping Stephen.”

“Will you, though? There’s always the chance that you may not come back to me.”

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll somehow love him more than you? Or that this trip will somehow make me choose him over you?”

“Or that you spending the next unforeseeable future with him in a foreign country will make you fall for him, if you haven’t already.”

“Charles--”

“No, hear me out, Y/N. You and I were basically pen pals for years, and we just met a year ago. You two, you’re going to practically live together on the first part of finding out you’re mates. It’ll be organic, it’ll be natural.”

A sigh escaped you. “Charles, I can’t tell you what’s going to happen or not happen. All I can assure you is that I love you more than anything. And should something happen, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But this is important to him, and important to me. I trust you to understand and respect that.”

“I do… I love you. Do whatever you feel you need to, darling. As always, I’ll be here waiting.”

“You’re perfect, Charles Xavier, I hope you know that.”

“I do, but it’s nice to hear you say that.”

You laughed loudly and told him you loved him and you two said your goodbyes.

Next stop, Nepal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

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Charles Xavier

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TSMU

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@halfofwhatisayismeaningless

#the stars made us #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fic #stephen strange #charles xavier #charles xavier fic #charles xavier x reader

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farfromparker · 5 years ago

Text

Erotas - Chapter Three | t.h.

Erotas Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader

Summary: You land in Greece and after dinner with some of your family the only logical next step is to get drunk in the jacuzzi.

Warnings: Cursing, a little (and by little I mean little) bit of steaminess but the smut will pick up in the next chapter

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: This fic is trope city; fake dating, there’s only one bed, friends to lovers. Warnings will be added as I continue to write! Possibly looking at 7 chapters.

Special thanks to @worldoftom 💞💞

Five hours later and you’re standing in the lobby of your hotel, bags at your feet, Tom by your side. You haven’t seen your family yet, which is a relief in itself. Your mum texted saying to get settled and relaxed and that they’d find you for dinner and drinks.

You rest your chin in your hand on the check-in counter, processing what the receptionist had said. “Wait, what? We didn’t—”

The woman behind the desk glances at your passport again, double checking the spelling of your name one more time. “You did. This is your room, 2 adults for the Venus Suite for five nights.”

Your phone dings. It’s your cousin.

Get checked in to your suite yet?? 😏 [smirking emoji]

Your mouth pops open and you glance at the woman again. Pressing your lips into a thin smile, you apologize, “Sorry, yes, you’re right. That is our room.”

Tom nudges your shoulder with his, whispering, “A suite?”

You shrug, biting your bottom lip. “Welcome to Greece!”

The woman smiles, finalizing your check-in and hands you the keycards to your room along with a map to find your suite. “To further complement your stay, American Champagne Breakfast will be served each morning in the privacy of your own terrace.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh wow, okay. Thank you.”

Tom nudges you again as you leave the lobby. “I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

He smirks when you shove his shoulder. “You have a movie line for every situation, don't you?”

He nods. “Oh most definitely.”

Using the directions the woman gave you, you walk towards your suite. The hotel reminds you of a maze, stairs and turns, the sky a bright blue hanging above you. You can hear the ocean in the distance. You explain to Tom that your nosy family decided to intervene and change your original room reservation and bump you up to a suite. Knowing your cousin, she probably did it the second you left that lunch four weeks ago.

“How much is this gonna cost?” he asks, hesitant.

“My dad covered it. It’s safe to say my family is over the moon I’m here with a boy.” And it’s hard to hide the drop of venom in your voice.

You reach room 12, high, white, stucco walls surround you at the end of a hallway. The key is an RFID card and you slide it against the reader, the light flashes green and the lock clicks. You push it open and step past the threshold.

Spanning out across your private terrace is nothing but the sea and the sky and Thirassia Island.

The door clicks closed quietly behind you.

Tom stands next to you, bags dropping to the ground by your feet. “Holy shit.”

The exterior portion of your room isn’t excessively large, but the space is amazing. Two chaise lounges overlooking a glass balcony railing, staring out into the Aegean Sea, along with a rather large jacuzzi in the corner. There are French doors behind the hot tub, leading into your room.

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

The room itself could be the size of a shoe box for all you care. You just want to spend any free time you have on this overlook.

Tom picks up his bag, grabbing yours as well that had also slipped out of your grasp when you walked in, and heads towards the doors. He pushes them open and you follow. He sets the bags by the dresser, eyes wide as he takes in the room. He’s smiling, touching everything almost in awe, but you’re staring at the bed. The only bed.

“Oh,” you start, glancing around the room but there’s no couch. The room isn’t really all that big, the king bed taking up the majority of the space towards the back. There’s a fully stocked mini bar to your right and a dresser to your left, along with the TV. The door to the bathroom is on your right as well and Tom has disappeared in there. You can hear him talking, calling your name to come see something.

When you don’t reply right away, he pops back out, looking at you. “What’s the matter?” and he follows your gaze to the bed. It takes him a second, brows furrowed before he realizes. And he starts laughing, gently, but laughing nonetheless.

“Hey, are you really worried about sharing a bed?”

You feel relieved at the ease he’s expressing. “You’re not?”

He laughs again. “No, babe, we’ve kissed. I think we can share a bed. Especially one as big as that one.”

You smile. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, sorry. I’m just —”

“Nervous, I know,” he finishes for you, walking over to take your hand in his, squeezing gently. “What time do we have to meet your family?”

You sigh. “Uh, whenever we’re settled, I guess.” You squeeze his hand in return. You contemplate for a moment, “The sooner we go, the sooner it’s over and we can come back here.”

“And then we can order champagne and get drunk in the hot tub.”

You laugh. “Let’s just do that now, forget my family.”

But he convinces you to just go now. Saying that it won’t be that bad, that your family will be so excited to see you. And although you’re sure they will be, you still know it’s going to be exhausting.

You head to your parents’ room first, room 4. You later find out that most of the wedding party is on the opposite end of the hotel from you. Knowing that makes your room even more of an escape.

Your mum gushes over you when she opens the door, hugging and kissing you before passing you off to your father so she can do the same to Tom. He takes it all in stride, hugging your mum, shaking your dad’s hand and with him here, the heat is off of you. They want to know about him, how you met, what he does. You barely speak ten words on the walk down to the hotel bar. You don’t feel left out, though, because Tom’s hand never leaves your body, whether he’s holding yours or resting his on the small of your back. He keeps you close, smiling at you as he answers questions about your relationship, about your friendship.

You find a hightop table outside with a view over the ocean. The breeze is light and warm against your cheek, and you can smell the salt in the air. It’s late in the afternoon, close to five, but the sun is still warm on your skin.

Your dad pulls Tom along to the bar to get drinks and you’re sure he’s giving him the dad talk. You can only shake your head.

Your cousin and her fiancé, Ava and Alex, meet the four of you down there soon after. And Ava is the reason you’re here. Yeah, she can be a pain in the ass, but she’s always been more of a sister than a cousin. You’re close in age and grew up together. The secrets you share could bring down the government of a small country.

She engulfs you in a hug, practically vibrating with excitement. She hugs Tom as soon as you introduce them and while she’s fussing over him, you give Alex a hug as well, taking the opportunity to catch up. Alex couldn’t care less about the wedding, just wanting it to be over with so they can officially be married. Ava, on the other hand, is stressing over every single detail no matter how minimal it may seem.

And Tom is great with her, offering advice and helping her see things that may not be as important as she's making them out to be, like the color of the tablecloths not being the absolute right shade of white. You can see the relief flood Alex’s eyes as Ava agrees with him.

“So how have you been hiding him since February? He’s amazing, and really, really cute,” she says, nudging you with her shoulder.

You press your lips together. “I didn’t want to jinx anything, you know how this family is.”

She nods in understanding, she’s experienced everything you have, albeit secondhandedly, but she’s always been there to help you say fuck them over drinks later in the night. She knows their comments cut deeper than you let on and she’s tried to help as best she can. You’ve always appreciated that about her.

If the wedding itself would consist of only these four people, you could have survived it alone. But your mum fills you in on the rest of the family’s travel plans. Aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents are all arriving tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night, then you’ve got the next day off to enjoy Santorini before the wedding on Friday. Most of the family will fly out on Saturday. But you and Tom, along with your cousin and her newly minted spouse are staying until Sunday.

You order dinner but find yourselves talking and drinking more than eating. With more people now, the conversation has broken up into parts and you find yourself talking with your dad, Tom has finished eating and is standing next to your chair now. It’s easier for him to be included in the conversation this way.

“Having fun so far?” your dad asks.

You smile. “Yeah, thank you for the room.”

Tom agrees. “Yes, thank you so much. We really appreciate it.”

Your dad laughs, patting Tom on the shoulder. “She doesn’t bring a guy around often, so I figured I would do something special for the two of you.”

And it would mean a lot to you if that wasn’t all an act. You take a sip of your drink to mask the uneasiness you feel, but Tom doesn’t miss a step. Going into a story about how excited he was when he found out you’d be coming here, about meeting your family, about going on a vacation, someplace so romantic, with his girlfriend.

“Well, hopefully you two can properly enjoy yourselves here. Get some good use of that jacuzzi, yeah?”

“I think we’re gonna order champagne and get drunk in it tonight actually,” you comment, exchanging glances with Tom.

Your dad looks between the two of you. “Well, then what the hell are you still doing here? Go! Enjoy yourselves before you get roped into some responsibility for the wedding.” And he practically pushes you out of the bar.

“What if they need me for something?”

He scoffs. “I can’t remember the last time you’ve come to a family gathering and actually had fun. Please do that for me this week. And for him,” he adds, gesturing to Tom. “If something’s on fire, I’ll let you know, otherwise I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow night. Six sharp.”

You can’t stop yourself from mumbling, “It feels like everything’s already on fire.” Your dad doesn’t catch it but Tom does, pressing his lips together to fight off a grin.

Your dad sends you off with a kiss to your cheek and a handshake for Tom, and then heads back towards the rest of your family. You laugh lightly, heading back to the room.

“I like your dad, and your mum. Everyone tonight was great,” Tom says as you step into your room.

“Yeah, these are the ones I really like, the shit show will start tomorrow. You just wait. That rehearsal dinner might push me to murder.”

He laughs. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to be the only thing my aunts and uncles and grandma will be able to talk about. You and how she’s never brought a boy to meet the family before.” Your voice goes up several octaves as you impersonate your aunt.

“Should I just kiss you all night so that you don’t have to talk to them?”

“Oh, they’ll eat that shit up, you’re gonna have to make a dirty joke to shut them up. Grandma’s very religious and she’ll clutch her pearls if you talk about our, quote unquote, sex life.”

Tom hums, nodding along. “Good to know.”

You shake your head. “Anyway, didn’t my dad say I had to have fun this week? Let’s stop talking about my family and go get drunk.”

“God, yes please. I’ll order room service. You can change first,” he offers, walking over to the hotel phone. You rummage through your suitcase and find your bathing suit, slipping into the bathroom quickly.

The room is empty when you open the door, but you can hear the jets running from the hot tub.

You grab two towels for yourselves and step out onto the balcony. The sun has set, but there are still soft orange hues spanning across the horizon.

“I got you a towel,” you comment, setting them both off to the side to prevent them from getting wet. “Thanks,” Tom says, smiling as you step into the tub. “Champagne should be here soon.”

You hum, sinking down into the water, letting the jets push against your back and shoulders. Extending your arms, you reach out, resting them against the sides of the hot tub. Your fingers knock against Tom’s as he’s in the same position as you and his fingers twitch. You think he’s going to move his hand away but instead, he threads his fingers with yours, brushing gently against your knuckles.

You stay like that for a moment, eyes slipping shut as you enjoy the heat of the water, the warm air on your skin and Tom’s touch on your hand.

The knock on the door startles you both and Tom is quick to get up and out of the hot tub. You watch as the muscles along his back and shoulders work beneath his skin as he pushes himself out.

The champagne comes in on a cart, half submerged in a bucket of ice with two flutes next to it. Tom thanks the man, offering him a tip on his way out. You reach for the cart, pulling it up next to the jacuzzi as Tom locks the door, coming back to get in next to you.

You grab the bottle, peeling away the wrapping from the top. You hesitate when you see the wire twist, biting your lip.

“What? Scared to open a champagne bottle?” Tom teases, taking the bottle from you when you offer it to him, his fingers brushing against yours.

“They make me nervous, have since I was little,” you laugh, leaning away from him as he gets to working it open.

“Clearly, you didn’t grow up with a household full of brothers,” he quips, pulling the wire webbing off so he can get to the cork. “Losing an eye was the least of my worries growing up.”

“Yeah? And what was your biggest? Getting punched in the dick?”

He freezes, locking his eyes on you, “Don’t joke about that. That shit hurts. God, I think my dick crawled back inside my body just from hearing you say that. When I still lived at home, Harry would shout nut shot whenever I would get up and stretch so I couldn't defend myself. It’s astounding to this day that my balls aren’t permanently blue.”

You throw your head back, trying to hold back the laugh fighting its way past your lips because sometimes you don’t want him to know how funny you actually think he is. He’s smiling when you look back at him though, like he knows.

He definitely knows.

Changing the subject is the only escape right now. “Will you just open the bottle, please?”

He does, aiming it out towards the ocean and with one final twist, it pops open, the cork shooting out across the terrace.

“See?! That’s why I don’t like opening them!”

“Hey, no one lost an eye, so I see this as an absolute win.” He fills the two flutes before shoving the bottle back in its ice bath. He hands you a drink before grabbing his own.

You extend your arm to him. “Cheers,” you offer and clink his glass to yours.

“Cheers.”

The champagne is sweet and flavorful, bubbly against your tongue. It’s going to go straight to your head.

Tom settles back into his seat, groaning softly as he moves so the jets press at different areas of his back. “Alright, rehearsal dinner tomorrow, who do I have to look out for?”

You take another sip of your drink. “Everyone.”

He laughs.

“You think I’m kidding!”

“Oh c’mon, I don’t have to worry about your parents. And Ava and Alex love me. So that's four down.”

“They were just the pawns, the big guns come out tomorrow.” You straighten up, rolling your shoulders and making a show of it, Tom just rolls his eyes. “Alright, we’ll start at the top with Grandma Ruth, Nana. She’s very religious, I’m pretty sure I’m sinning in her eyes because I’m not married yet so she’ll love you. But she’s a pistol. And I’m sure she’ll have Peanut with her.”

Tom pushes his lips together, brow bunching, “Peanut?”

“Her Yorkie.”

His eyebrows raise, eyes going soft. “She has a dog?”

“Satan reincarnated as a three pound dog, don’t let the name fool you.”

He laughs. “Nah, c’mon, how bad can a three pound puppy be?”

“Fine, don’t believe me. But don’t come crying to me when she tries to bite your fingers off.”

Tom just shakes his head, “Alright, Nana Ruth and Peanut, check. Next?”

“Aunt Brigitte and Uncle Joe. They’re the worst and you may not believe me now, but it’s the truth. They’re way more invested in my love life than their own, which is why they’re always throwing snide remarks at each other but also everyone else. She’ll make comments like oh your face is so much fuller now, well at least you won’t get wrinkles as easily when you get older or my dear, you haven’t missed a meal have you? or my favorite well if you weren’t so opinionated you’d probably have a boyfriend by now. And Joe is just an idiot.”

Tom contemplates for a moment, “So should I just punch her?”

You snort, taking a long swig of your drink. He continues, “Because I can, should I defend your honor?”

You have to put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from spitting champagne across the hot tub. You look over at him and he looks so proud, grinning from ear to ear, he can’t even stop smiling while he takes a drink.

“Thanks, Sir Holland, but I think I’ll be okay.”

He shrugs, “Well, just know my services have been offered.”

“Duly noted. Alright, next is my cousin Vinny.”

And he spits out his champagne, not even trying to cover it like you had, spraying it across the jacuzzi and you start laughing.

“You have a cousin Vinny? You’re not shitting me?”

You laugh harder. “I’m not shitting you.”

“Oh my god, can we get drunk with your cousin Vinny? Is he a lawyer?”

“He’s a mechanic, he’d probably be a more successful lawyer than Joe Pesci though. But we can definitely get drunk with him, he’s a good one in the bunch. Doesn’t really give a fuck about anything, which is part of the reason why he’s the best.”

“Cool, so I don’t have to avoid Cousin Vinny.”

“His mum, my aunt Maya, is just as cool as he is. She’s been divorced since Vinny was little, raised him on her own. Nana always gives her a hard time about being single, like she does to me, so Maya’s always been in my corner.”

“I like Maya already,” he mentions, smiling at you, “Wait, so who’s the eccentric uncle? The one I can only talk to about football?”

“Louis. Honestly, you can talk to him about anything except politics. I think my dad would kill me if I didn’t warn you about him. They don’t get along at all. Louis hasn’t been able to hold down a job for over thirty years and it’s mainly because he’s lazy. And my dad has worked really hard for everything he has, everything he’s been able to do for my mum and me. Hence why they don’t jive.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

You twist your lips, spinning the champagne flute in your hands. “But... I think that’s everyone? At least the ones that come with warning labels.”

He chuckles, finishing off his glass and reaching back for the bottle. “Well, good, I feel prepared to defend you in battle now.”

You shake your head, handing him your glass so he can fill it up again, too. “Alright, enough of the defending my honor business. You’re more of a partner in crime.”

He hums, giving you your glass back and burying the bottle back in the ice bucket. “I like the sound of that.”

You glance over at him, watching as he rests back into his seat. The sun has fully set and the sky is dark now, but the soft yellow hues from the lights in the room shine out and span across his face, his neck, the top of his chest. Your eyes travel along his cheekbones, down to the cut of his jawline. His eyes slip close and you take the opportunity to steal more glances.

Moving along the bump of his collarbones, the bulge of his biceps, his bare chest, he really is beautiful. You think about saying it out loud for a moment, but bite your tongue, worried it would sound weird or that you’d make him uncomfortable. You settle back against the jets instead.

“How’s work going?” you ask instead, forcing your mind off of that previous thought. “I feel like we haven’t talked about your life much in the past few weeks because of the current dumpster fire I’m living in.”

He opens his eyes, looking over to you, “I think you’re getting by just fine, besides you’ve got me, and I carry a big hose. I’ll put that fire out in no time.”

There’s no stopping the laugh this time, “Oh my god,” you bury your head in your hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something, but presses his lips together, suppressing a smile and taking a sip of his drink. “Work is good, it’s always good.” And you know he’s telling the truth, he absolutely loves his job. He works for a nonprofit, a construction company that builds houses for people in need. People whose lives have been turned upside down. He gets to make a difference, and you know there’s a deep sense of gratification he gets from it.

“We’re working on a house right now for a man that was involved in a car accident, a drunk driver hit him and paralyzed him from the waist down. He’s in a wheelchair now but his current house, he couldn’t get anywhere or do anything.”

He goes silent for a moment. “I can’t imagine what that would be like.” He turns to you, eyes soft and you set your glass down on the cart, reaching out to take his hand. He squeezes yours in return. “Like your home is supposed to be a safe place, a place that you go to just — be. And this man’s home... suddenly it’s like he’s trapped there, unable to do everything that was so mundane and easy before.”

He sees a lot of people like this, people so desperately in need but you know they can only do so much. You’ve seen first hand how difficult it is for him.

They don’t have endless supplies, endless people, endless hours. They can’t help everyone. People are turned away by their selection committee, or moreover, the selection committee picks who they do help. But Tom can’t stop himself from getting attached to the applications he reads, how much he wishes he could do more. He hates the selection process, but knows it’s a necessary evil.

“And you’re helping him,” you encourage, reminding of the good in his job, the best part. “You’re helping change that man’s life in such a positive way.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a soft tone to his voice. He drops his gaze, watching the water swirl around in front of him. “Anyway, my part with that house is done. They’re moving him in this weekend, I think. T said he has the next ones lined up, so I’ll dive into those when we get home.”

You smile, you want to tell him how proud you are of him, but would that be out of place? You smile at him instead. “You’re doing good things, Tom, you’re a good person.”

He returns your smile, eyes twinkling as he looks up at you again. They’re bright, even in the darkness, twinkling under your praise before he bites his lip, shy. “Thank you.”

“Alright.” He rolls his shoulders, demeanor changing as he downs the rest of his glass. You can see the glimmer in his eyes, he’s got something in mind. He sets the empty flute on the cart, noting your glass, and how it’s not empty. “Well, first I need you to finish that,” and he points towards your drink.

You raise your eyebrows, but grab the flute nonetheless. “Bossy.”

He puts his hands up. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to get drunk in this hot tub, I’m just making sure that happens.”

You finish off your glass with a lick of your lips, setting it next to his. “Okay, what’s nex—” and you cut yourself off as he gets out of the jaccuzi. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” he calls over his shoulder. You merely roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on your lips. You busy yourself filling up your glasses, he was right, you did plan on getting drunk tonight and although you were getting there, you weren’t there yet.

He comes back as you set the now full glasses on the cart. And he’s got… an empty plastic water bottle? He climbs back in the tub, raising his eyebrows at you quickly, clearly excited.

“What's with the trash?”

“Now, love, give it a chance.” He reaches over, fiddling with the dials until the jets stop. The water swirls softly, and the bubbles disappear. “We’re gonna play a game.”

You grin. “Awesome. I like games.”

He nods. “I know. Okay, so the goal of this game is to avoid the water bottle touching you, but trying to get it to touch the other person. You can’t use your hands, though. And the bottle can’t touch any part of your body or the other person gets a point. First one to 5 wins,” he explains, letting the bottle go, watching as it floats around the tub. You’re watching him instead.

“Can I use my legs? Or my feet?” you ask. “To like, make it move?”

“You can use any part of your body, just not your arms or hands. Oh, blowing is acceptable and encouraged.” And you can tell he’s trying to get you to laugh again. But the champagne is going to your head, and now you want to be the one throwing dirty remarks his way.

“Oh Tommy, you opened a door for me. I’m very good at blowing.” He doesn’t laugh, just bites his lip and if it weren’t so dark out, you’re certain you’d be able to see the blush sitting heavy on his cheeks.

He clears his throat. “Then, I guess I’m in trouble.”

You simply wiggle your eyebrows. You twist your hands together in front of your body, gripping onto your fingers in hopes of keeping yourself from breaking the rules. Tom does the same, the crease between his pecs becoming more defined. You consider how your cleavage in turn must look to him, but consider any mode of distraction a welcome advantage. He’s only human after all, and you’ve got great tits.

A rush of self-satisfaction washes over you when you watch his eyes flicker down to your chest. Your mind, hazy with champagne, wants to comment on it, wants to let him know he’s been caught, but as you’re about to, he locks eyes with you.

“That’s not fair,” he whispers, voice breathy.

You simply smirk, “I’m just keeping my hands occupied so I don’t cheat. Now, ready when you are, Tommy.” And you wonder if he likes the nickname. He never comments on it, and his body language doesn’t suggest he dislikes it, but you’d like to know all the same.

“We’ll start with the jets off, let you get comfortable,” he continues, counting down from three and you move to the edge of your seat, counting down with him.

On one, you both move forward, creating small waves that crash into each other and send the bottle off to the right. You stand, walking through the water to follow it, leaning over to get closer to the bottle so you can move it with your breath. Tom angles away, pressing his back into the side of the tub so he can bring his feet up to kick underneath it but it moves towards him, not away. You keep following, keep blowing, getting into his space, but your feet tangle together with his. You stumble, falling forward and your hands automatically reach out to brace yourself.

Your palms splay out across the middle of his thighs, but your fall was enough to push the bottle forward and it bumps against his chest. You raise your head, smiling victoriously. “Gotcha.”

He huffs, laughing like he’s out of breath. “Fuck.”

You grab the bottle and step away from him, moving back to your seat. You reach over and grab your drink, taking a long swig and he follows suit, downing a good portion of his drink as well.

You set the flute back down, looking over at him “Ready for round two?”

He licks his lips, moving toward the edge of his seat. “The question is, are you? I was being nice the first round.”

You smirk. “Bring it on, Holland.”

You count down again, hands grasped together, but he doesn’t follow your lead this time. His arms hang loose at his sides and there’s a devilish smirk on his face. You both say one and as you move toward the bottle, he moves around it, coming to you. He reaches for you, fingers wrapping around your elbow and pulling you into him. Something that can only be described as a squeak leaves your lips, and you untangle your hands to try and get him off you. He’s too quick, though. In the blink of an eye, he’s got his arms secured tightly around your waist, your back pressed tightly to his chest and he’s moving you toward the bottle like you weigh nothing.

You reach your hands out but freeze, remembering you can’t use them, so you push back against him to get leverage to get your feet up and kick at the bottle to try and move it away from you. But he’s strong, muscles solid and defined from his job in construction, and he’s got complete control over your positioning. Which means it’s not difficult for him to get you cornered with the bottle trapped between your body and the edge of the tub.

You lock your arms against the side, bracing yourself just far enough away that you’re not touching the bottle, not yet. He’s firm against your back, you can’t move, but neither can he. If his grip loosens, you can slide out and away. The water sloshes with your movement, but it starts stilling as you find yourselves in a stalemate. The bottle rocks gently and you can feel Tom’s jaw on your shoulder. He’s looking down your body, watching the bottle float of its own accord.

“This has to be cheating,” you say, teeth clenched.

He laughs, chest rumbling against your shoulder blades. “Nah, the only rule was that you couldn’t use your hands or arms to move the bottle,” he says slyly. “I can do whatever I want with them as long as I’m not touching that bottle.”

His fingers dig into your sides to emphasize his point and there’s a deep swoop low in your stomach. Your eyes flutter for a moment before you force them back open, glancing down and trying your best to ignore the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, of his chest pressed along your spine. The weight of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You swallow harshly to keep focused on the game.

The bottle floats towards your stomach and you instinctively push back to get away from it. But pushing away from the bottle means pushing closer to Tom. You feel him, just for a moment, and you’re almost not sure you felt what you think you felt. But he sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and his grip loosens around your waist, and that’s all the confirmation you need.

You slide out of his grip easily and with a well placed flick of your foot, the water bottle bounces forward and knocks against his arm. He tries to laugh, sinking down so the water sloshes up against his collarbones.

“Beginner's luck,” he shrugs, but there’s a new tone in his voice.

“Well, you were more than a little distracted, I’d say.”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but he’s avoiding looking at you directly and his cheeks are so red you can see his blush clearly when he turns towards the lights coming from the room. “I’m 23 and I’ve got a pretty girl pressed up against me. If anything, I mean, it’s your fault.”

And you chuckle. “If I remember correctly, you grabbed me, so you did this to yourself, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t have a smart remark, and he still can’t meet your gaze. “C’mon, it’s probably time we go to bed anyway,” you comment, giving him an escape.

He nods, “Yeah, big day tomorrow.” But he makes no effort to move with you as you get out. You grab the towels, wrapping one around yourself and he starts to wade over to you.

“Okay if I shower first?”

He looks relieved, taking the towel you offer him. “Yeah, course, go for it. I’ll clean up out here,” he says, gesturing to the champagne.

You disappear inside, digging through your bag to grab a baggy shirt and sleep shorts. You close the door to the bathroom, setting your clothes on the counter. Your cheeks feel hot and you can still feel the ghost of his chest pressed against your back. You shake your head to try to clear it and step into the shower, turning the dial down so that the water runs cool.

You try not to take too long, knowing that he’ll want to shower before bed as well and there’s another weird swoop in your stomach thinking about him naked in the very spot you’re standing. You groan, throwing your head back and stepping further under the water, letting the stream wash over your face.

You dry off and get ready for bed, trying to tidy up a little so the bathroom isn’t a complete disaster when he comes in. You look at yourself in the mirror for a moment, trying to straighten your shirt. But then you glance up, catching your own eyes and you scowl. You were going to bed for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t matter what you look like. It didn’t matter. You huff, turning on your heel, and pushing the door open.

Tom’s sitting in the chair near the bed, towel beneath his butt, nose in his phone… still shirtless. He looks up when he hears the door and he smiles at you, locking his phone and setting it on the nightstand.

“You still had a little bit of champagne in your glass,” he begins, standing up and walking over to the dresser where your glasses sit, there’s still a little bit left in his flute too. The bucket sits next to them, the bottle nestled carefully within it. “I didn’t know if you wanted it or not.”

You grin, walking over to him and taking the glass he offers you. “Yeah, can’t let something this good go to waste.”

He grabs his glass, clinking it with yours. “I couldn’t agree more.” And his eyes sparkle like the champagne on your tongue.

Soon after, he grabs some clothes and heads into the bathroom. You debate for a moment on pulling the drapes closed, but the thought of the sun shining out across the sea in the morning is a view you absolutely want to wake up to. That’ll require an early morning, but then again, how often are you going to be in Greece to watch the sunrise over the Aegean?

An early morning it is.

You turn the lights off by the door, leaving only the lamps on the nightstands on. One jiggle of the handle confirms he's already locked the doors. His phone is plugged in and charging on the right side of the bed so you take the left, plugging in your phone as well before pulling the cord and turning off your light. You pull back the covers, crawling in and as your knees touch the mattress, the exhaustion of the day washes over you. The fact that you were hungover in London this morning feels like days ago, not mere hours.

You groan loudly as you lay down, stretching out under the blankets and letting yourself sink deeper into the bed.

There’s a small chuckle, and you whip your head up to the noise. Tom is leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, shirtless, baggy shorts hung low on his hips and it’s an involuntary reaction when your tongue pokes out to wet your lips.

“Should I give you some privacy?” he teases, a smug look settling on his features.

You roll your eyes, dropping your head back down into the pillow, “I didn’t realize how long of a day this has been until I laid down. And this bed is heavenly.”

He flicks the light in the bathroom off and shuffles over to the bed, pulling the blankets back and crawling in next to you. He leans back, turning his lamp off as well, casting the room in darkness. There’s a soft glow from the sliver of moon in the sky. It’s faint though, you hadn’t even noticed it when you were outside.

He nestles down onto his side so he can look at you. Your eyes adjust after a moment and you find his gaze easily.

“Not a bad day overall, though...” he muses, the question in his voice is obvious.

You turn to him, rolling onto your side so you can face him properly. “Way better than I was anticipating, in large part thanks to you.”

He smiles, genuine, and you can imagine it reaching his eyes. “I’m just glad I could be here for you.” His hand stretches out across the mattress, you feel it before seeing it because the comforter shifts with the movement. His fingers find yours within seconds, and you thread them together.

You hum at the comforting feeling, letting your body continue to relax. “I’m glad you were as well,” you murmur, voice soft.

He squeezes your hand, thumb brushing across your knuckles. “Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

When you wake up in the morning, his hand is still touching yours.

Taglist (also added a few that enjoyed the first chapters):

@xximaweirdoxx @selfcarecapmain @billythebully09 @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts @honeymarvel @billieishottttttttt @lovinnholland @oh-annaa @little-miss-naill @holland-in-disguise @wordless08 @multifandomgirl-us @tiktok-spideyy @fangirlfree @theolwebshooter @headlights95 @thirsttrapholland @ablazeofhope @hazmyheart @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @afterglownights @hollandbitch @delicately-important-trash @parkersvibes @averyfosterthoughts @mskatharinawho @crazyfreaker @thsummersoldier @lolobxtch @peterparkoure @hpnjrph @likeit-or-leaveit @spidxrparkxr @caretheunicorn @peterpstuff @spiderdudetom @sltwins @loxbbg @tomshufflepuff @spideyyeet @terrifictomholland @caturdwy @lauras-collection @hollandtomholland @hollandcreep @uncookspaget

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #my writing #erotas

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13yearslater · 4 years ago

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Rights in the UK

I don’t really know what I’m about to write as I start this, but I’ve been feeling some feelings lately about the social and political climate surrounding trans people.

I’m grateful to be in the UK, which relatively speaking is a fairly progressive and safe country for trans people compared to many others.

But I am still scared.

I’m not scared that I will be individually targeted and assaulted in the street. Although the 2,500 hate crimes against transgender people last year alone (a 210% increase since 2015/16) suggests that maybe my lack of concern is the privileged complacency of not being visibly trans, especially when we see that 81% of LGBT people don’t even report the hate crimes against them. That complacency lives on a tightrope however; I am one incident away, one incident of my trans status falling into the wrong hands, from realising that I am not immune to the abuse that I see my local trans sisters face on a daily basis.

And how confident would I be that any hate crime I were to experience would be dealt with appropriate and effectively? Well given that Scottish minister Humza Yousaf very almost pushed through amendments to Scotland’s Hate Crime & Public Order Bill that would directly exclude transgender people I may, perhaps naively, expect the police and courts to provide protection and justice for me now, but I am constantly reminded of just how fragile my protections are and how they can be snatched away at any given moment, and with public support.

What really scares me is the disregard for our rights and the increasing amounts of ‘anti trans’ pressure groups in the UK who are continuing to gain support and traction, including many that are LGBT based wishing to exclude us from their community entirely.

1. Gender Recognition Act

The Gender Recognition Act is one example I will address. This act is the means that trans people in the UK use to legally change their gender and acquire an updated birth certificate. This is a sixteen year old, heavily bureaucratic, expensive and lengthy process. It requires a payment of £140 and the following, many of which are also not free to obtain:

a) The requirement for the trans person to provide two medical reports, one evidencing a diagnosis of gender dysphoria and the other outlining details of any treatment received;

b) The requirement for the trans person to provide a range of documentation that proves they have lived in their acquired gender for at least two years;

c) The requirement for the trans person to submit a statutory declaration of their intention to live in their acquired gender until death;

d) The requirement for married applicants to obtain the consent of their spouse or end their marriage;

e) The cost to the trans person of using the GRA process

It’s the very reason that over a decade later, I still have not obtained my gender recognition certificate. And given that an average of 300 GRC applications are processed each year compared to the estimated 200,000 to 500,000 trans people in the UK, I suspect I’m not the only one.

So anyway, in 2018 there was a consultation about the Gender Recognition Act with over 100,000 respondents and promises to reform this act. The response was hugely positive with the vast majority supporting the reform. It highlighted all the issues with the process that is preventing trans people gaining legal recognition. We were all hopeful, and many of us who had been awaiting this moment to gain our own GRCs sat in wait. Unfortunately, two years later, the government announced that they had decided to scrap plans to reform the GRA altogether stating that this was not the priority for trans people. The consultation was also considered to be biased due to too many positive responses; despite only ~20% of respondents being trans themselves and ~20% being from all called upon by anti-trans groups such as Fair Play for Women.

2. The Keira Bell case

I don’t wish to get into the finer details of the case itself or my opinions on the matters involved, but to give a brief overview, a woman who transitioned and received puberty blockers at age 16, testosterone at age 17 and a double mastectomy at age 20. She later detransitioned and went on to sue the NHS (National Health Service) claiming that she was not challenged enough and that under 18s cannot consent to treatment such as puberty blockers with the aim to prevent the prescription of puberty blockers for all trans youth.

Long story short, she was successful and the Tavistock clinic, ie the only gender identity clinic in the UK that treats trans people under the age of 18, is no longer able to prescribe puberty blockers to anyone under the age of 16, with those between 16-18 having to seek approval via court first.

If we take a look at who was involved in this court case we see Keira Bell herself and her mother as the claimants and the Tavistock clinic as the defendant. For the interested parties who had direct input into this case we had “Mrs A” - the mother of a 15yr old autistic child displaying gender dysphoria who is firmly against her child being able to access a gender clinic (interestingly, any of her input was regarded as purely hypothetical since her child had never attended, nor would ever attend a gender identity clinic), we also had Transgender Trend - an anti-trans pressure group and finally, we have the University College of London who are not gender specialists. Meanwhile, groups such as Mermaids who are a well-known charity aimed at supporting trans children and Stonewall who are campaigners for LGBT rights in the UK both applied and were both denied access to this case. The judge of course did also not have any authority on the subject.

My issue here is yet again, how fragile my rights and protections feel and my ever waning confidence that government or legal processes are in any way fair and balanced. This was not a fair trial; there was no balance in stances, other than the defendant there were no gender specialists or even anyone heavily involved in the lives and care of trans people. The majority of interested parties were there with a firm agenda, and those that countered their beliefs were not allowed through the doors.

Puberty blockers are not an issue that affect me directly, but if a biased court taking the likes of “Mrs A” and her ‘theoretical’ input over reputable charities with a wealth of knowledge, experience and expertise can be created to make such rulings and remove healthcare from an entire demographic of people then what is stopping that happening to my healthcare? Nothing, that’s what.

3. The census

Our census takes place every ten years and has always allowed transgender individuals to choose the sex that aligns with their passport. For me personally, selecting male feels like a far more accurate representation of my place in society, my legal status and my physicality along with the fact that I have been listed as male in previous census forms.

This year however, a second question was added. This questions asks “do you identify with your sex assigned at birth” with the options being yes or no and a box to enter further information when selecting no. The official guidance on the first question remained the same, stating that it was appropriate to select the sex that aligned with passports or legal documents. The first question allows data to be gathered on men and women, the second question allows data to be gathered specifically on the number of transgender individuals and other identities such as non binary - the two questions are entirely independent of each other and will generate separate sets of data.

But today, it came to light that anti-transgender pressure group, Fair Play for Women crowdfunded £100,000 to challenge this and bring it to court. This was successful and the official guidance has now changed to exclude all legal documents except a gender recognition certificate - which as previously mentioned, only a small percentage of trans people actually have due to the long, expensive and bureaucratic process involved in obtaining one.

Personally, I don’t really mind if I have to tick female to a question that asks my sex at birth. The question doesn’t explicitly ask for sex at birth however and is more aimed at showing the demographics of the UK for which female is absolutely not accurate for me. What bothers me is that a group have raised £100,000 from the public to ensure that we can’t select an accurate representation of who we are and our place in society and that it was approved.

4. The toilet provision

This has flown under the radar due to Covid-19 but the government recently held a consultation around public toilets. It seems fairly innocent at first glance. Except again, we’re seeing these anti-trans pressure groups calling for action amongst their followers, some with the call to ‘protect single sex spaces’. Could this be the beginnings of American-style bathroom bills in the UK?

---

So yes, I am scared. I’m scared by the fragility of my rights and freedoms; how easy they are to peel away bit by bit and how it passes by with little notice nor care, or in some cases with public support and even funding. I’m scared of the people who are given the power to make decisions about our rights based on no prior knowledge of experience of trans issues. I’m scared that we will be alienated and excluded from our LGBT spaces and supports. Will I be looking back in ten years, eternally grateful that I was able to transition when I did? Grateful for the gender clinics of today with their six year waiting lists? Will I live in a time where I must disclose my trans status on every document, at every job? Will I live in a time where I must provide my sex in order to use the gym? Will there be a time that I am not able to legally change my gender? I’m scared by the hostility of society, at times their vehement opposition to us existing amongst them, their disregard for the importance of our healthcare and all too often the anger that our ‘cosmetic’ surgeries are covered at all.

In a time that my life and rights feel like a debate, unimportant and constantly at the mercy of others, in a time that members of the public will raise huge amounts of money just to stop people like you ticking a box on a form, you’re damn right I’m scared for the future.

#ftm #trans #transgender #trans man #lgbt #lgbtq #sources included #text

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years ago

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Seeing Double (Part 2)

Summary: After the Winchesters show up at Jensen’s apartment, they discover getting the boys home may not be possible...

Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Alpha!Jensen (platonic, brotherly relationship)

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language

________

“Ow,” said Dean, Danneel pulling back into a corner of the kitchen, hiding behind a cup of coffee and Jensen. “Why’d she pinch me?”

“I was really hoping I was going crazy,” she said, resting her head against Jensen’s back with a sigh. “Maybe there’s a gas leak…”

“They’re real,” said Jensen, running his hands over his face, shaking his head at Sam. “At least Sam’s babysitting the kids so we can sort this out.”

“Uh huh,” she said, setting her coffee down and going back to Dean, leaning into his face.

“Hey, you look like that dick angel that screwed us over. Sister Jo,” frowned Dean, squinting at her.

“Excuse me?” she said with a scoff, Jensen grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back.

“She acts too. If you see somebody that looks like Ruby, don’t go stabbing her either,” said Jensen, sighing loudly. “You guys are great and everything but can you like...not be here?”

“Ah. So when you come to our universe you expect a little hospitality but when we get here-“

“Point made,” said Jensen, glancing around the apartment. “What do we do with them?”

“Well I’m supposed to fly home with the kids today,” said Danneel. “You have to be at work in like an hour.”

“Hey, Sammy and I are big boys. We don’t need a babysitter,” said Dean.

“Oh, yes you do,” said Jensen, grabbing Dean’s jacket collar, getting a nasty glare in return. “You guys are...you’re different, remember?”

“Oh. You’re worried-“

“There is no ‘Dean’s whiny juice’ here,” said Jensen. “I know everything now so-“

“Could someone explain what you’re talking about?” asked Danneel.

“In a minute,” said Dean, shifting in his seat. “I gotta use your bathroom.”

“Down the hall,” said Jensen. Dean got up from his seat, Sam wandering over. “Thanks for taking the brunt of the three musketeers this morning.”

“They’re cute. I could kind of hear what you were talking about and I should tell you-“

“What happened?” said Dean, storming out of the bathroom. “What...I can’t...there’s not...I am an Alpha!”

“Different universe,” said Sam with a shrug. “I’m not happy either but I sort of like it.”

“Again, someone clue me in please.”

“Okay,” said Danneel, nodding her head after a moment. “Okay. I’m not okay but okay.”

“Can they just hide in the apartment until we figure something out?” asked Jensen.

“Fine,” she said. “Don’t break anything and I swear if you two bring any freaky stuff in here-“

“Yes mam,” said Sam.

“If you two are gonna be here, at least help De out with packing up the kids for their flight,” said Jensen. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Going to work, actor boy?” teased Dean. “We’ll hold down the fort for you.”

“Just do what she tells you and you’ll be fine.”

“Rough morning?” said Jared, patting Jensen’s back in the lunch line. “You look like you’re having a day.”

“That’s a word for it,” grumbled Jensen, Jared chuckling. “What?”

“We should go out tonight for dinner. Neither one of us have early call times tomorrow,” said Jared.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Jensen.

“Fine. I’ll come over and we’ll order something,” said Jared.

“I’d rather...fuck. If De knows then Gen is gonna know soon and you might as well hear it from me,” said Jensen.

“Hear what?” asked Jared.

“Well…”

“No way,” said Jared, poking Sam in the chest that night.

“Why’s he poking me?” asked Sam, Jared doing it again.

“Because he’s excited. Jared,” said Jensen, Jared pulling his hand back. “I don’t know what to do with these guys.”

“Just let us head on over to the bunker, we do the spell and then we’re back where we belong,” said Dean.

“The bunker doesn’t exist, just like magic doesn’t exist,” said Jensen. Dean scoffed, waving him off. “Well you’re not an Alpha here so it’s not a far stretch to say magic doesn't either.”

“I am an Alpha, whether I got the equipment or not,” said Dean, glaring at Jensen.

“Well this is my house, Alpha,” said Jensen, Dean taking a big whiff of the air. “And?”

“You don’t smell like anything,” said Dean, putting his hand on his head as he walked away. “Sammy-”

“Hey, at least we won’t get ruts here,” said Sam.

“I want to go home,” said Dean, looking around. “Our home. You understand that, Jenny.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass you call me Jenny again, Deanie,” said Jensen with a smile.

“Maybe we let them try to get back and do their spell. It doesn’t hurt to try,” said Jared. Jensen shrugged, Sam seeming to have an easier time with this than his brother. “Hey, uh, why don’t we order some pizzas and have some beers? Jens and I don’t have work until 11.”

“Whatever,” said Dean, slumping over to a corner of Jensen’s couch, Sam giving them both a smile and look that said he was sorry.

“Hey dude,” said Jensen after Jared had gone home and Sam was passed out in the guest room, snoring away. Dean hummed from the couch, mindlessly watching something on TV. “You doing okay?”

“No,” said Dean quietly. “You know how fucked up I am, Jensen. Like, possibly even better than Sam. The Alpha thing, I know it’s not a big deal or it shouldn’t be but it feels like I lost a part of me. At least as an Alpha, I had a pack and was pack leader to Sam and that meant something, you know? I was important to him.”

“You’re still important, Dean,” said Jensen, taking a seat nearby. “Your brother loves you. Trust me. Jared ain’t even related to me and he loves me. He’s my brother.”

“Yeah but you’re normal. You can make friends and have a wife and kids. If we’re stuck here, I’m sure Sammy will find a sweet girl and it’ll all be fine. I’m...I’m screwed up. I wouldn’t put that on anyone but at least with hunting, I was doing some good. Now I got nothing,” said Dean.

“You could get a job that helps people,” said Jensen, Dean rolling his eyes. “Dude, if you’re stuck, I got your back. The whole family does.”

“Okay, enough with the nice guy schtick, alright?” he said.

“I had to go through crap and you guys took care of me. Now it’s my turn,” said Jensen. “And I am nice, asshole.”

“You are the weirdest friend I’ve ever had,” said Dean.

“I certainly hope so as your fucking twin from another universe I win the weirdest fucking friend award,” said Jensen. Dean chuckled, rubbing his hand against his head. “I thought I talked to you about this self-deprecating stuff back in your universe.”

“You did. I just don’t listen well,” said Dean with a shrug.

“You got that right. You ate my ice cream. I was looking forward to eating that like all freaking day,” said Jensen.

“Yeah but dude, it was triple fudge,” said Dean. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Well lucky for you, I got a secret stash in the-”

“Box of frozen veggies? Yeah, I use that trick on Sam at home. Sorry bud,” said Dean, Jensen staring at him slack jawed.

“I hate you and respect you at the same time,” said Jensen.

“Just being a good house guest,” said Dean with a smirk. “You probably need some shut eye, you look pretty wrecked.”

“Yeah, long day,” said Jensen, running his hands over his face. “Long few days. I need to head home this weekend, just relax.”

“Kansas?” asked Dean.

“Texas,” he said.

“Eh, good enough. At least you didn’t say LA,” said Dean.

“Goodnight, asshole,” said Jensen, ruffling Dean’s head as he walked past.

“You too, Jensen.”

Friday Afternoon

Jensen only had a half day at work, standing in his apartment with his bag to fly home for the weekend around lunchtime. Jared got a flight out the night before and he and Sam had become best buds. Sam was easily adjusting to the situation far better than Dean. Sam didn’t seem to care so much about no longer being an Alpha and had already taken to cleaning Jensen’s apartment more than once, cooking dinner for him when he got home, trying to be helpful like Jensen had when he was at their place.

Jensen could see Dean wasn’t doing well though, Sam exchanging glances with Jensen every so often, not quite sure what to do about it. All he did was sit in Jensen’s apartment, watch TV and drink Jensen’s alcohol.

“Hey uh, guys?” said Jensen, both brothers spinning around on the couch. “I’m going to head out for the weekend. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“We’re not children, Jenny,” said Dean, spinning back around.

“I’m still older than you, Deanie,” said Jensen, lightly smacking Dean’s arm as he walked over. “You guys got any plans?”

“Besides the fact we’re trapped in this universe forever? No, no plans,” said Dean.

“Sam, you do that thing I asked you to do?” asked Jensen. Sam smiled and nodded. “Good. Get your asses up then. We’re going to Texas.”

“What?” said Dean.

“Jensen thought it’d be a good idea if I made up some fake ID’s for us, just in case. Shockingly easy to hack into systems in this universe,” said Sam.

“I don’t need to know that,” said Jensen as he shut his eyes, flashing them open. “Well, give Dean his new passport and license. I got extra plane tickets. Whatever you guys need, we’ll grab in Texas.”

“Here,” said Sam, fishing a new wallet and a little book out of his pocket, handing it to Dean.

“Dean Ackles. Seriously?” said Dean.

“I’m sorry. I have a potentially recognizable face, so does Jared. You guys have to be fake twins to us here,” said Jensen.

“Sammy and I can’t even be brothers?” said Dean, scrunching up his face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m getting you out of this apartment, back in a country you know, a part of the country you know,” said Dean.

“Oh? And what do we say when you guys both suddenly have identical twins,” said Dean.

“That you’re very private people. Hey, I got other siblings, so does Jare. We keep stuff outside of wives and kids pretty tight vested. It’s easy enough to pull off,” said Jensen. “Once you get in the states...it’ll be good for you. I swear.”

“At least I don’t have to be Sam Padaleski,” mumbled Dean.

“Padalacki,” said Sam.

“Pada...whatever,” said Jensen, rolling his eyes. “Just keep your mouth shut through security and for the love of god, do not do anything that gets us in trouble. Only Jared and I know about this right now. I don’t need my parents finding out they had another ‘son’ from airport security.”

Jensen saw the guys relax a bit once they were in Texas. It was somewhat familiar, both of them amazed at where Jensen lived, Jensen gripping the steering wheel tight every time one made a comment about “rich” people. Jensen arguably owned enough flannel to be a Winchester himself.

“Hi daddy,” said JJ when Jensen got out of his truck, Jensen scooping her up in a hug.

“Hi honey,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “What are you doing outside all by yourself?”

“Mommy said I could,” said JJ, pointing through the window to the kitchen, Danneel giving Jensen a smile. “Hi Uncle Sam and Dean!”

“Hey, kiddo,” said Sam, JJ turning her attention to Dean.

“Hi, JJ,” said Dean softly.

“You guys gonna stay for dinner?” she asked.

“Yup. They’re going to stay with us for a while,” said Jensen, grabbing his bag from the trunk. “Come on boys. De’s friday night meals are always the best.”

“This is amazing,” said Dean, Danneel chuckling as he worked on his third plate of food, Jensen taking the opportunity to spend some playtime with the kids.

When he returned, the boys were washing up the dishes, Danneel sitting at the counter with a smile.

“I like them. I think we should keep them,” said Danneel teasingly.

“I think we have to,” mumbled Jensen, Danneel staring up at him. He sighed and hopped up on the counter, holding her hand as the guys finished loading up the dishwasher. “I think...I think it’s time we got realistic about the chances of you guys going back to your own universe.”

“I told you he just brought us down here to ditch us,” said Dean.

“I brought you down here so you don’t sit in that apartment all day. This is our home and it’s private. Go outside, take a swim, get your head on straight. You both have to accept that these are your lives now. It’s all our lives,” said Jensen.

“What do you mean?” said Sam, taking a seat at the other counter.

“I mean if I was a normal guy, Jared was a normal guy, we could let you slip away just fine. Start over however you want. We don’t get that option. In public, you have to be an Ackles and you have to be a Padalecki. You have to be our brothers,” said Jensen.

“How the hell are we going to pull that off?” scoffed Dean.

“We’d have to get the family on board with it,” said Danneel. “Although your dad would probably be the only really hard sell if you think about it.”

“No! We’re not-”

“Dean,” said Jensen. “Listen. We-”

“Oh shit,” said Danneel when the garage door opened. “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” said Jensen, wide eyed when he saw his dad round the corner and pause, blinking at the scene in front of him. “You forgot my dad was stopping over!”

“He was driving up from Houston after a small gig there earlier today. I told him he could crash here tonight, surprise you,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“Well. I am surprised,” said Jensen’s dad.

“Uh,” said Jensen, quickly hopping off the counter. “I uh…”

His father walked past him and stepped over to Dean, holding up a finger and poking Dean in the chest. He did the same to Sam, staring back at Dean.

“You’re the Winchesters,” said Jensen’s dad.

“Exactly!” said Jensen, his dad holding up a hand.

“I ain’t convinced I haven’t gone insane so give me a second, kiddo,” he said. He tilted Dean’s chin up, Dean glancing at Danneel who just shrugged, Dean swallowing when Jensen’s father flicked him in the side of the head.

“Ow,” said Dean, rubbing his temple.

“Alright. I’m Alan,” he said to Sam and Dean, turning his attention to Jensen. “What is happening?”

“Honestly? It’s a long story,” he said.

“Well start talking before I call your mother to have us all committed.”

“Well…” said Dean, sharing the bottle of bourbon Jensen had gotten out long ago with him. “Your dad seems really nice.”

“Give me,” said Alan, stealing the bottle away and whacking both Dean and Jensen on the back of the head.

“Dad,” whined Jensen, pouting when his father scowled.

“This is weird enough and we don’t need you two drunk,” he said. “Now sit back down.”

“Forget what I said,” mumbled Dean.

“I heard that,” said Alan.

“Well I ain’t your kid,” said Dean.

“Do I need to have this conversation with you too?” said Alan, staring at Sam. He shook his head, Danneel quickly skirting out of there with Sam to go hide in the living room. “Listen up. My kid is the one helping you. He could leave you and your brother to figure out this world on your own but guess what? He’s not. He’s choosing the hard thing because it’s what’ll probably help you the most. But if you don’t want it, there’s the door.”

“Dad, there isn’t really an alternative,” said Jensen. “Not unless they live in a shack the rest of their lives.”

“Fine with me,” he said.

“Dad,” said Jensen.

“Why should we do all this, drag the whole family, drag Jared’s whole family, through a big lie for someone who’s going to be ungrateful about it?” he said.

“Because it’s Dean and he’s not exactly open about this stuff,” said Jensen. “I have been playing him on TV for years. I have a good idea of how his head works.”

“I ain’t convinced. Get out,” said Alan.

“Dean, stay,” said Jensen, lifting his chin. “This is my house.”

“I’m not going to lie about having another son if he doesn't want it,” he said.

“I was stuck there in their world, dad. Trapped. Sam and Dean helped me,” said Jensen. “And what the hell is this all of a sudden? We help people when we can, that’s how you raised us. We’re good people and you’re acting like a dick.”

“You want the whole family to lie? For him?” asked his dad.

“Yes,” said Jensen. “For both of them.”

“Why?” said Alan.

“Because no one ever did a thing for them. The show was real for them, their actual lives. They deserve another shot, a shot at normal where they don’t have to hide,” said Jensen. “Please.”

“Good boy,” he said softly. Jensen scrunched up his face, tilting his head and glancing at Dean. “Hey, I already knew I was going to do it. I wanted to know why you wanted to.”

“Dickhead,” mumbled Jensen, his dad ruffling his hair.

“Whine like that and I’ll let Dean be the older twin,” said Alan with a chuckle.

“No!” said Jensen. “I’m older!”

“Do I get a say in this? Like at all?” said Dean. Alan shrugged.

“Technically you are younger,” he said.

“In this world, jerkface,” said Dean. Alan nodded and curled his finger.

“Let’s go have a chat outside,” he said. Dean huffed but followed after him, Jensen sighing when he found Danneel and Sam hanging out in the living room.

“I’m sorry about Dean,” said Sam, giving Jensen a smile. “He really does appreciate everything. I think the Alpha thing is really messing with him. He was head of the pack after our dad died and being head Alpha is a big deal in our world. I mean, take Dean with all his normal crap and add this on top of it.”

“I know,” said Jensen, plopping down next to Danneel, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Are only boys Alphas?” she asked, Jensen smiling up at her. Sam chuckled a little and shook his head.

“No. Pretty sure if she wasn’t an Alpha, she’d be the feistiest Omega I ever met though,” said Dean, rounding the corner with Jensen’s dad. “So yeah, chicks can totally be Alphas. A bit rarer though.”

“Well, I’m heading to bed kids. I’ll see you all in the morning, figure out how the hell to tell your mother we have another kid,” said Jensen’s dad, rubbing the back of his neck. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” said Danneel, giving Dean a smile. “So…”

“Can I talk to Sammy alone?” asked Dean.

“Yeah. We uh...we only got the one guest room but there’s plenty of couches around,” said Jensen, Dean smiling.

“Dude, it’s okay,” he said. “Uh, mind showing us? This’ll probably be a while. We got a lot to talk through. Brother to brother.”

Jensen nodded and played good host, showing them the bedroom and bathroom they could use, finding some extra sheets and pillows for Dean and setting them down in the room.

“De and I are just off the front door, other side of the house,” said Jensen, turning to leave.

“Hey, twin,” said Dean, Jensen glancing over his shoulder. “Call up Jared. Us four got a lot to talk about.”

“Honey?” asked Danneel, Jensen crawling into bed in the middle of the night. “What’s up with the boys?”

“We’re going to do it. Fake us both having twin brothers,” said Jensen. “I can’t believe this is our life now.”

“Hey, you always wanted the Winchesters to have a family,” she said.

“I didn’t think it’d literally be our family, De,” said Jensen, throwing an arm over her. “Why’d you ask about the Alpha stuff earlier?”

“Dean’s having a hard time, I want to help him if I can,” she said.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

“Yo,” said Jensen, hopping out of his car on the way home from the airport, making a quick pit stop at the brewery. Dean gave him a nod, setting a sack of hops down. “De got you put to work good this week I heard.”

“I don’t care what happened in my universe. Both of you there at the same time, she’s so the Alpha out of you two,” said Dean.

“Eh, being an Omega’s not so bad, right?” said Jensen.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded you being the one that popped out the twins,” said Dean with a laugh.

“You’re joking,” said Jensen.

“Remember that sex ed book? Nope,” said Dean.

“Where…” said Jensen, Dean glancing around Jensen. “No way.”

“Yup,” said Dean, sighing when he heard Danneel tutting behind him. “Gettin’ me in trouble with the boss lady already.”

“Boys,” said Danneel, a smile in her voice. “Jensen, Dean. This is Ana. Today’s her first day. She’s going to be helping out in the office, events, odds and ends. Ana, this is Jensen.”

“Hello sir,” she said, giving Jensen a handshake.

“Oh god, I’m your boss but please don’t ever call me sir again,” said Jensen with a smile. “We’re sort of a bunch of goofballs around here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, turning to Dean. “Hi.”

“Hi,” said Dean, staring at her as she held out her hand. Jensen saw Dean blank out for a second, shaking his head and quickly accepting the handshake. “Dean.”

“Like Dean Winchester?” she said with a little laugh. Dean shook his head, dropping his face away after a moment. “Sorry.”

“No, no...you’re uh…” said Dean, Jensen catching a bit of flush in his cheeks.

“Let’s introduce you to everyone else and then Dean can be your training buddy for the day. He just started this week too,” said Danneel.

“Okay. Bye Jensen. Dean,” said Ana, giving them both a smile as she left with Danneel.

“She was cute,” said Jensen, Dean shrugging. “Dude.”

“Maybe...she was a little cute,” mumbled Dean.

“Too bad you were too busy trying not to blush you didn’t notice she was doing it too,” said Jensen.

“She did not,” said Dean.

“Gonna have to find out for yourself, Deanie,” teased Jensen.

“Eh, go screw yourself, Jenny,” said Dean.

“Love you too. Brother,” said Jensen with a laugh, pausing when he caught Dean’s face. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s...it’s not you. S’just weird,” said Dean. “I used to know a girl in my world, looked just like her.”

“Really?” said Jensen, turning around, catching the Danneel and Ana walk out of the back of the brewery.

“It was when Sammy was in college. I was working this hunt, a little big for me to be working on my own. I met this hunter, was going to work it with him, my dad gave him a call. The guy was a bit of an ass. He said ‘his girl’ would show me the ropes. He left and this chick, ain’t even old enough to drink, she walks in the bar, orders a beer, tells them I’m paying for it, knocks it back and then tells me to get my perky ass going cause we got a restless spirit to take care of. I thought she was a bit of an ass like her old man but it was a front, we all got fronts in that world. She was stitching up my arm in my motel room when it was finished, had this cute little smile and bam, her heat hits. She’s freaking out because it’s way off schedule and then bam, my rut hits and that’s way off schedule too and we realize...true mates,” said Dean with a smirk. “I actually had an Omega. Can you believe that?”

“That’s great man,” said Jensen, already having an idea of where this story was going.

“You’re the first person I ever told that to. Not even Sammy knows I had a mate,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t even a hunt that got her. A silly car accident. We barely got a few months together.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine,” said Jensen.

“No,” said Dean. “You can’t.”

“I can ask De to keep her away if-”

“No, no. It was a long time ago. It’s not her. I’m okay, seriously,” said Dean.

“Alright,” said Jensen. “I’ll see you at home later then.”

Two Days Later

“Daddy,” said Zeppelin, tugging on Dean’s jeans, Dean giving him a smile. “Oh. Uncle De, where’s daddy?”

“He’s playing with your sisters upstairs,” said Dean. “You want to go play with them?”

“No,” he said, walking away, Danneel giving him a smile as he plopped down in the living room.

“Alright, Uncle Dean,” she said, patting Dean’s arms. “Ready for your date tonight?”

“It’s not a date,” said Dean, running his hand over the gray button down Jensen had loaned him.

“It’s so a date,” said Jensen, walking down the stairs, patting Dean’s shoulder. “Come here.”

Jensen slipped on a pair of shoes and Dean followed him outside, handing him the keys to his truck.

“This where you tell me not to screw up this poor girl,” said Dean.

“This is where I tell you...have some fun tonight. We hardly ever see you crack a smile unless you’re with the kids,” said Jensen.

“Sam’s accepted that this is where we live now. I haven’t,” said Dean. “He’s making plans for apartments and I’m up half the night researching to get back.”

“Get back to what? To getting hurt all the time? Dying? Hunting?” said Jensen.

“It’s all I got, Jensen,” said Dean. “That and being an Alpha.”

“Well you’re not an Alpha anymore. You’re Dean and you get to start over fresh, be what you want. We’ll help you with whatever you decide. But you have to live your life,” said Jensen.

“I’m too fucked up,” he said. Jensen hummed and crossed his arms.

“I see. We’re gonna have to do this the hard way,” said Jensen. Dean rolled his eyes and started to walk away. “Hey. Winchester.”

“What,” said Dean with a sigh.

“Talk with Jared sometime,” said Jensen. Dean turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Just cause we don’t fight monsters doesn’t mean we don’t have demons in this family. Talk to him tomorrow. Jared’ll be honest with you. He’ll set your head straight.”

“Why? You sick of me already?” scoffed Dean.

“Because in case you forgot,” said Jensen, stepping up to Dean’s face, “You didn’t just get me as a brother. You got Jared too. I’m good at being there but Jared...you have more in common than you think. Just talk to him for me. For Sam. Please.”

“You’re not my brother,” mumbled Dean.

“Yeah. I am,” said Jensen, Dean staring at him. “Neither one of us picked this but it’s what we got. You know, like siblings. You don’t get to pick those.”

“You’re so annoying,” said Dean.

“I”m the older brother. Of course I’m annoying,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“I was in Hell for forty years. I say that makes me older,” said Dean, narrowing his eyes as Jensen swallowed. He sighed and dropped his head. “I’m sorry. Forget I said that.”

“It’s alright,” said Jensen, digging into his back pocket and pulling out his credit card. “Have fun on your date. My treat.”

“I got a job. I can pay,” said Dean.

“Dude. Just take it. It’s your first date in this universe. It’s my treat and De ain’t gonna be happy if you say no,” said Jensen.

“Fine. It’s probably going to go horrible anyways,” he said as he took the card.

“Have fun, Dean!”

“Hey,” said Jensen when Dean walked into the kitchen the next morning, picking JJ up from her seat at the counter and sitting down, resting her in his lap. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” he yawned, JJ grabbing his cheeks. “Good morning, sweetie.”

“Uncle Dean, it’s my seat,” she said.

“Can we share?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing his shirt and tilting her head. “You got a tattoo like dad?”

“This?” he asked, glancing at Jensen when he pulled down his Henley and showed off his anti-possession tattoo.

“I only got the three, honey. Yours and the twins and the crown,” said Jensen, sliding two plates of eggs on the counter. He walked around and picked her up, plopping her in the seat next to Dean.

“Uncle Dean, are you gonna live with us forever?” asked JJ as she started to eat.

“No. Not forever,” said Dean with half a smile.

“Can you? Please?” she asked.

“I’ll stick around a while, how’s that sound?” asked Dean.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

“So how was the date?” asked Jensen.

“You know, a date,” said Dean.

“You gonna see Ana again?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Feels funny,” said Dean, wolfing down his food quickly. “I’m gonna go for a walk before it gets too hot out. I’ll see you guys.”

He stood and headed upstairs, JJ giving her father a look.

“Dad, why’s Uncle Dean so sad all the time?” she asked.

“It’s a lot of grown up stuff,” he said.

“Can you fix it?” she asked.

“Maybe. Give Uncle Dean and Sam a few extra hugs for me when you see them honey,” he said.

“You got it, dad.”

“Hey,” said Jensen, finding Dean out by Jared’s pool a few hours later. “Where’s Sam?”

“Grocery store. Gen’s bringing the kids over your place to swim,” said Jared.

“So, what? You two need a ride?” chuckled Jensen.

“No. Dean came over this morning and we’ve been talking,” said Jared. “I thought it might be good to get you involved.”

“What’s up?” asked Jensen, taking a seat on a patio chair.

“I think we all know Dean’s struggling with this...adjustment. Sam and I have noticed it and we’re sure you see it too. Add that on top of everything that these guys normally go through and this is where we end up,” said Jared.

“You okay?” asked Jensen, Dean sighing.

“In this world, you’re pack leader. Maybe you don’t realize but you are. I could get over the hunting if I could still be an Alpha, still have that,” said Dean.

“We don’t have that in our world, Dean,” said Jensen, tilting his head back. “I’m not a pack leader either. I’m part of a family, one you’re part of now. I know that this one is different than what you’re used to. I get it, man. We all do. But if you’re struggling, let us help.”

“I don’t know what I need,” said Dean.

“We don’t film until when, Tuesday afternoon?” asked Jensen after a moment.

“Nope,” said Jared, pulling out his phone. “You want me to reschedule our flight for Tuesday morning?”

“Yeah. I think a boys weekend with us and Sam is in order,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“Same place as we went last time?” asked Jared.

“Yeah. You mind getting it reserved and I’ll get these boys packed up?” said Jensen.

“Where are we going?” asked Dean as Jensen pulled him to his feet.

“Trust us. You guys will like it.”

“Nice,” said Jared when Dean reeled in a fish late that afternoon. “That’s your fourth one already.”

“Must be a better fisherman in this universe,” Dean chuckled. He unhooked the fish and dropped it back in the water, Sam sighing from the other side of the dock. “Patience, Sammy.”

“I’m getting hungry,” he said.

“Me too. Dean, how do you like your steak done?” asked Jared as he reeled in his line.

“Medium’s always good,” he said.

“Alright. You guys set the table out back and we’ll handle the food tonight,” said Jared, heading towards the small cabin with Sam.

“He a good cook?” asked Dean.

“He knows his way around a grill,” said Jensen, taking a sip of his beer. “You seem more relaxed here.”

“Not used to the real world still I suppose,” said Dean.

“Well, we rented the cabin for three weeks. You and Sam can come by anytime you want. Quiet place to be yourself,” he said.

“I like people. I want to be Dean Winchester again is all,” he said.

“You are. You’re a badass. I know that. But you gotta relax before you pop.”

“Maybe I haven’t been trying as much as I say I have been,” said Dean.

“When I was stuck, all I wanted was to go home,” said Jensen. “I understand.”

“Nothing bad happens here,” said Dean after a moment.

“Bad stuff happens. It’s not monsters that cause it is all,” said Jensen. “I think that’s what you struggle with.”

“There’s nothing for me to do here,” said Dean. “Nothing bad to stop. No pack to lead.”

“There’s plenty of bad to stop. Sam still needs you. I think you have to change that idea in your head of what that means is all,” said Jensen.

“Do you always have to be so annoyingly optimistic?” asked Dean.

“I want you to feel better is all.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been one of my best friends for fifteen years. I care about you. I didn’t know you were real until recently but you taught me a few things over the years. If you could stop being such a dick, it’d be nice,” he said.

“I’m your best friend? You sure you ain’t nuts, Jenny?” asked Dean.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Also, you so put my head at rest knowing a freaking hunter is home with my family to watch out for them when I’m not there,” he said.

“I never thought of it like that,” he said, a small smile on his face. “You got no idea how lucky you are, man.”

“I know. Maybe when we get back from our trip, you can hang with Ana again. She’s cute. You seemed like you liked her,” he said.

“I did. I’ll think about it,” he said. “Would you mind if I did something with the kids next week? Like after school?”

“Not at all. You don’t have to ask permission. I see how good you are with them and I’m sure De would love a few hours to herself,” he said, pulling his line in. “Why don’t you stay a bit longer. I can setup.”

“Alright,” said Dean as Jensen stood up. “Jensen.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. You and Jared for taking care of us. You could have left us on our own to figure all this out,” he said.

“S’not our style,” said Jensen. “Food’ll be done in probably twenty.”

“What are you, my mother? I got it,” he said, waving him off.

Jensen smiled as he headed back to the cabin, Jared heating up the grill on the deck.

“You think he’s doing better?” asked Jared.

“Yeah. I think these guys are gonna be alright.”

_________

#spn #supernatural #dean x jensen #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean #winchester #dean spn #sam winchester #jensen ackles #rpf #au #rpf au #sam #jensen #platonic relationships

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clothingblog35 · 3 years ago

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Wd My Passport Ultra Software Download Mac

I have eventually got my personal mac, the problem is I have a WD My Passport portable HD, with all my art, photos, and data I had done with the PC. I wish to copy files from my mac to the drive, it wont allow me. But when I open and copy files from the drive to the mac it works. How do I fix this without formatting the drive?

Summary: Have you received the error: 'The disk you inserted was not readable by this computer' on Mac? Don't worry, this article will focus on how to fix WD My Passport is corrupted or unreadable on Mac. To avoid the loss of important data, you'd better recover lost data from the unreadable WD My Passport with iBoysoft Data Recovery for Mac.

WD My Passport external hard drive is able to work on Mac and Windows for data transferring or backup. It is popular for its auto backup and passport protection features, keeping your files and folders safe. However, there are times that the WD My Passport becomes unreadable or corrupted on Mac. You may be greeted with errors like 'The disk you inserted was not readable by this computer', which prevents you from accessing all data stored on the drive.

Dec 04, 2018 Another difference is My Passport Ultra is USB-C ready, USB 3.0 compatible and formatted for Windows 10 to with plug-and-play storage out of the box. It also includes with NTFS driver for macOS so you can work on macOS operating system without reformatting. While you have to reformat My Passport into compatible file format in order to use it on.

My Passport; My Cloud Home; My Cloud; My Book; Internal Drives / SSDs; WD Elements / WD easystore; Embedded & Removable Flash; WD ReadyView; Legacy & Other Products; Downloads WD Software; Product Firmware; Product Downloads; Warranty & Returns Warranty Services; Warranty Policy; Data Recovery; Shipping Addresses.

List of all WD firmware and software available for download.

It's so frustrating when you meet this issue. If you are struggling to solve this issue, you will find a collection of verified troubleshooting steps.

Table of contents

1. Causes of WD My Passport not readable on Mac error

2. How to fix 'WD My Passport unreadable' on Mac error?

3. Conclusion

Note: If you received the disk not readable error with three options: Initialize, Ignore and Eject, please don't select 'Initialize'. Initializing the drive will erase all of the data that is currently sitting on the drive, which makes it difficult to recover lost data.

Causes of WD My Passport not readable on Mac error

Let's at first take a look at the complaint from community.wd.com:

'My WD My Passport 2TB Portable External Hard Drive has suddenly become unreadable on my laptop (MacBook Pro Server with macOS 10.12 Sierra) and I have tried on a MacBook Pro 2011 running 10.13 High Sierra with the same results. Any suggestions to fix my unreadable WD drive?'

The good news is, even though you have been prompted with an error message, at least your WD My Passport drive is recognized. There are many reasons that can lead to a drive not being readable, but essentially this is because the internal file system is damaged. Some of the possible reasons for this error are described as follow:

Mac malfunctions

Outdated drivers

Faulty connections

Write-protected drive

The WD My Passport is not formatted

An internal file system error or bad sectors

Virus/malware infection to your WD My Passport

Incompatibility issue between your WD My Passport and Mac machine

Accidental interruption or removal of your WD My Passport during transferring data

How to fix 'WD My Passport unreadable' on Mac error?

In most cases, the issue can be repaired with a simple initialize. But this operation will remove all data stored on this drive. Are there any other ways to fix WD My Passport unreadable issue on Mac? Of course, just try these solutions one by one:

Solution 1: Re-insert the WD My Passport

The first and foremost thing is to remove the WD My Passport safely from Mac and then re-plug it into the USB port properly. If the external hard drive mounts and appears on the left sidebar of Finder, then you can access the drive. However, if the WD drive still won't mount or the error persists, continue with the next method below.

Solution 2: Check the Mac computer

The next step is to check whether your Mac machine has a problem or not. Just connect a different storage device to your Mac. If this error still pops up, the problem may refer to your Mac machine, you can restart your Mac to see if everything works well. Otherwise, if you can see the other drive in Finder, the problem is associated with the previous WD My Passport.

Solution 3: Check if the WD My Passport is encrypted

The WD My Passport for Mac corrupted or readable issue can also happen if the drive is encrypted by BitLocker. By default, the Mac computers cannot recognize a BitLocker encrypted drive, which means you are unable to read or write BitLocker encrypted drive on Mac.

You can insert the drive in a PC and then turn off the BitLocker encryption so that it can be read on Mac. In addition, you can access a BitLocker encrypted drive with the help of a third party tool.

Solution 4: Update Mac drivers

Drivers enable one or more hardware devices to communicate with the computer's operating system. If drivers are out-of-date, a variety of issues will happen such as the disk not readable error. Apple handles all system and driver updates for your system. To check if any updates are available, please do the following:

Step 1: Go to Apple menu and select 'App Store'.

Step 2: Click on the 'Updates' button located on the top pane.

Step 3: Check available updates for your system and applications.

Solution 5: Repair the WD My Passport in Disk utility

Disk Utility is a built-in used to erase, format or manage internal disks and external storage devices. The most important feature of Disk Utility is First Aid, which helps detect and repair any issue with your disk. Here is how to run First Aid on your Mac to repair the unreadable WD My Passport:

Step 1: Open Disk Utility from your /Applications/Utilities folder.

Step 2: Select the unreadable WD My Passport in the left side bar.

Step 3: Select the 'First Aid' tab.

If Disk Utility tells you the disk is about to fail, back up your data and replace the disk. You can't repair the disk. Otherwise, continue to step 4.

Step 4: Click Run.

If Disk Utility reports that the disk appears to be OK or has been repaired, you're done. Otherwise, you have to back up as much of your data as possible.

Solution 6: Recover lost data and erase the WD My Passport

If the error still exists, you have no choice but erase the WD My Passport. But keep in mind that you will lose all data store on this disk. If you didn't back up important data, you should get lost data back with free Online data recovery software at first.

Step 1: Recover lost data from the unreadable WD My Password on Mac

If you are not sure which data recovery tool you can trust, iBoysoft Data Recovery for Mac is highly recommended to recover lost data from the unreadable or corrupted WD My Passport. This free Mac data recovery can scan and recover lost data from unreadable SD cards, internal Macintosh hard drives, external hard drives, USB flash drives, etc. iBoysoft Data Recovery for Mac provides a complete Mac data recovery solution even if your Mac won't boot/turn on, your device is failing, inaccessible or has lost a partition.

Moreover, iBoysoft Data Recovery for Mac can also recover recently or permanently deleted files, recover lost data from formatted hard drives, recover lost data from unmountable hard drives, and recover lost data from inaccessible drives, etc. This software supports recovering documents, photos, videos, emails, and music files. It's fully compatible with macOS Big Sur 11/Catalina 10.15/Mojave 10.14/High Sierra 10.13/Sierra 10.12 and Mac OS X 10.11/10.10/10.9/10.8/10.7.

1. Download and install iBoysoft Data Recovery for Mac on Mac.

2. Launch iBoysoft Data Recovery for Mac.

3. Select the unreadable WD My Passport and click 'Next' to search for lost files.

4. Preview the searching results, choose those you want and click 'Recover' to get them back.

5. Go over to ensure all lost files have been successfully restored.

Step 2: Erase the unreadable WD My Password in Disk Utility

After you get files off the WD My passport hard drive, you are safe to erase this external hard drive to make it work again. Reformatting will fix the unreadable error and the drive can be ready to use. Then you can copy the recovered data back.

• How to format external hard drive on Mac?

Solution 7: Ask data recovery service for help

However, if the solutions above don't fix the WD My Passport unreadable issue for you, or your WD My Passport even won't show up on Mac, it's probably the drive has been physically damaged. In that case, you should send it to a local data recovery service or replace it with a new one.

Wd My Passport Ultra Software

Wd My Passport Ultra Software Download Mac Version

Conclusion

Wd Passport Ultra Software Download

Hope these solutions have helped you fix the WD My Passport corrupted or unreadable issue. If you have any question about this article, stay in touch with us for further assistance. Specifically, we'd love to hear if you have other solutions for this issue.

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