#hence constantly rubbing his gloved hand

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

headcanon Hemlock has permanent nerve damage from the neurotoxin

[softbluefanfiction]

Truce

When I first started writing this fic, I accidentally deleted the first 2000 words and had to restart, that wasn't very nice, but I pulled through and really I hope you enjoy!

The insults. The accusations. Constantly having to defend himself. Having to play nice. It was all getting to be too much for Janus, but he had no choice but to handle it. He needed to take it in order to help Thomas, and eventually it would stop. Until then though...

"Your slippery sarcasm scale is why we are in this mess in the first place!" Roman yelled, pointing an accusing finger.

"Yeah, for real, Thomas" Virgil spat, "how can you still not see him for what he is?"

"And what would that be, dear Anxiety?" His stomach twisted as he spoke; it was tough to fight with him on a good day, but Virgil had also declared that he wasn't going to use Janus's name and that Janus wasn't allowed to use his. The only reason he agreed was to stop a fight, but in hindsight, it seemed to have not caused any release of tension from the group.

"A monster-"

"Woah! That's a bit strong, don't you think, Verg? Maybe we can take a second-" Thomas tried.

"No, it's not!" Virgil snapped. "he's been lying and deceiving us from the start, and now his advice has cost us a friendship!"

A few weeks ago, Thomas had come to them with a moral dilemma about two acting jobs. One was for a friend's production and would have meant a great deal to said friend if Thomas had taken the part. The other was a more prestigious role that Thomas has been working towards for a long while, alongside that Thomas didn't have much experience with the genre and really wanted to test himself; it also paid more. Janus had gone for the obvious choice with Logan on his side. He then won over Patton; given that other people were lined up to audition, his friend wouldn't have been shorthanded. He knew Roman secretly wanted to do the more challenging thing. It was easy after that.

"I hardly believe that that is a reasonable conclusion, Virgil." Logan slid in next to Janus, much to the latter's relief. A small genuine smile came across his face as Logan began to defend him. It always took him by such surprise; he never thought he'd be on speaking terms with the other after what he did, impersonating him. Now they had begun to quite enjoy each other's company and Logan defended him, often without hesitation: "when was it you said this play was, Thomas?"

"Uh, I went to it last week, but it ran the rest of the week too."

"And when and how frequently have you contacted this person?"

"Once that night and a couple of times today, but he still hasn't responded. He was also weird after the play, I mean we barely spoke!"

"Hence the 'issue' at hand," Janus said with air quotes and Roman positively fumed.

"Wipe that smile off your face, you deceitful dick!" He snapped and everyone in the room seemed as taken aback as Janus was.

"Running out of insults, are we, Roman?" He sneered.

"No, you...you... snake!" he shouted, still pointing an accusatory finger.

Both he and Logan rolled their eyes as Logan continued. "So, based on the fact that you have texted them during and after a busy week and they have not responded as well as being distant during a very busy production, you are concluding that they no longer wish to be your companion? Thomas, you must see that that is a bit of an extreme conclusion?"

Thomas and Vigil took a deep breath together. "Yeah, I'm sorry Logan, you're right. I should wait a minute before ringing the alarm bell."

"The figurative one I assume; although that might be an interesting way to improve the safety of your home, it would be unnecessary as the fire alarms are already operating."

"That doesn't change anything, they could be-" before Virgil could continue, Thomas's phone buzzed.

"Oh, who could that be?" Janus asked.

Thomas spoke sheepishly, looking apologetically at Janus and Logan. "It's them, they're sorry that they haven't been able to talk much and wanna go out to lunch some time."

"Well, then," Logan said with a self satisfied sigh, "if that is all I'll bid you a good night, and Thomas, remember to check your calendar before making plans."

"Okay, Logan, thank you!" Thomas rubbed the back of his neck as Logan sunk out.

"Hmmm, would you look at that, despite my villainous influences on Thomas's decision making everything turned out fine! How could this possibly be?" Janus gasped with mock shock, bringing a gloved hand to his mouth.

"This doesn't change anything, you're still-"

"Virgil," Thomas voice was a bit raised but he took a deep breath and softened, "Virgil, its okay."

The anxious side struggled for a moment, seeming to have more to say, but then simply huffed and sunk out with Roman ready to take his place in the fight.

Before that argument could move any further he held up a hand, and looked at his host. "I will see you later Thomas, don't hesitate to call if you need me." He sunk out with a calm smile from Thomas and fuming rage from Roman.

After he was back in the mindscape's living room, his shoulders slumped and his face fell before he realized that he was not alone and put on his mask once more. Every cell in his body fought against not being able to just relax, but he pushed those feelings away, making his way into the kitchen.

He was no longer going to stay in the room, but was still going to take a bottle of wine up to his bedroom. He felt like he deserved a little help to unwind.

Virgil spoke up as he looped back from the kitchen to make his way up the stairs: "I know what you're doing!" He growled.

"Do you now?" Janus huffed, he'd had too much today already and mostly responded on instinct. He hoped Virgil would just drop it so he could get onto staying in his room the rest of the night.

"I do, and I'm not going to let you hurt him!"

Janus let out an exasperated sigh and spun around at the top of the staircase. "Do you ever think I've tried so hard to get to Thomas because I care for him and want to help him?!" He meant to be snide in order to get Virgil to understand while not being vulnerable, but his voice failed him at the end, cracking.

That gave Virgil pause but he strode on. "It doesn't matter what you think you're doing. You're deceit and all you are going to do is hurt Thomas."

Janus just huffed and walked away, face turning red at his outburst. He had avoided reacting out of pure feeling since his low blow with Roman, but it seemed like they knew just how to get on his nerves and wanted him to fail so badly. He wouldn't have been surprised if that was a genuine scheme of theirs, to hit him where it hurts until he finally shows his true colors or whatever. They'd done worse.

Hot tears burned at the back of his eyes but he swallowed them down. He would not cry because of them. They would not hurt him, he was better than that and if it meant he could have Thomas's attention then they didn't matter.

But this was getting to be exhausting. The punches were coming just as hard as before and seemed to hurt worse and worse. Virgil's always stung, but the attacks were getting more and more personal. Roman was nothing compared to that, but the last few weeks every time it seemed that they were getting somewhere he'd redouble his efforts at getting under Janus' skin.

They were also in cahoots to not let him be alone with Thomas, and for a while, Patton. He actually began to get a stomach ache every time he went to go visit either, even starting to avoid them entirely before they both realized what was up and told the other two off. They could still interrupt if they found a good enough reason and used it as an excuse, which left Janus with much apprehension.

Their efforts also left him with conclusions that he was barely allowing to cross his mind, but he felt them pushing against the edges, threatening to burst out. About how Virgil and Roman are a part of Thomas and what their sentiment means about what Thomas thinks of him.

He shook himself out of his reverie and poured a glass of wine, sitting on his bed to sip at it.

His suit felt itchy and he knew he probably needed a shower. Last week he shed and that was just delightful, as always. He was more than grumpy and expected it to ruin all he had worked for but everyone was actually exceptional about the whole situation. Even Roman. It was another time he thought he might've gotten through to him but absolutely didn't. Either way, he was onto the last of it and one more good soak would do him some good.

He felt like a 60's housewife drinking wine in the bath but usually it could fix almost any issue so he wasn't willing to give it up. This time, he felt himself relax a bit, but instead of his worries washing away he felt them pressing down on him still, as if held at arm's length but ready to pounce at any moment; but in all honesty, it could just be the wine relaxing him.

He got done with a few glasses before he heard a knock on the door. "One second." Janus jumped out of the tub and carefully dried himself off and, for force of habit, assumed Remus would be behind the door, simply wrapping a towel around himself to answer it.

Which is how he caused one Patton Sanders to let out a rather loud "Oh, my!" when he opened the door, turning a shade of red that Janus did not think possible.

"Oh, my...um," Janus echoed, closing the door to cover most of himself peeking his head out. "You'll have to excuse me Patton, I had assumed you were Remus, did you need something?"

Patton was decidedly looking everywhere besides Janus, eyes curiously flitting back to his bare chest every few glances, but he really was doing his best to not look, it made Janus smile and giggle drunkenly, "You can look at me, it's fine."

They had been tipsy together before and Patton had admitted he was mad at Roman and Virgil's behavior and when that topic shifted away, feeling like he should offer something as well, he had admitted that his scales often made him feel foreign and out of place. Patton said he thought they were pretty and Janus couldn't believe that was true, and said as much. That's probably not what the moral side was currently thinking of at that moment, he belatedly realized, but didn't much care.

Patton swallowed and leveled his eyes on his counterpart's face, every few words his eyes would stray for a few moments but snap back up after realizing what had occurred. "Right, um, I just wanted to invite you to movie night at 9, um, and Thomas will be there too!"

And Roman and Virgil. "Don't wait up for me," He said after a minute of thought, he would think about though "sorry, Patton."

"No, no, it's okay!" He could tell it wasn't, but couldn't think of what to say so they just sat there awkwardly for a moment.

"Hey, daddy!" Remus saved them. "if you two wanna fuck I can leave." He laughed as Patton sputtered, walking up to them and placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Remus, please, you'll break him," Janus rubbed his face to stop his own laugh, keeping his tone exasperated "my apologies again Patton, have a good night!"

"Yeah, um, see you at the movie Remus" He whispered, running off as fast as possible.

"You're invited?" Janus asked, shocked. He didn't know that any of the others tolerated him, including Thomas, just that they accepted that they couldn't just ignore him.

"Oh, pfft, no!" Remus laughed, pushing into the room and shutting the door behind him, "I just showed up and nobodies told me to fuck off yet, so im still showing up!" Remus wrapped his arms around Janus' waist, leading him to the bed and leaning in for a kiss.

"It seems as though they have come to expect you!" Janus murmurs against Remus' lips. He allows the conversation to drift away when the other doesn't respond, pulling them both down over his bed. They curled up there, Remus laying on top of the other with his head nuzzled into his neck, the towel that Janus was wearing forgotten.

Their relationship had changed drastically in the last while since Virgil left. They had both come to find each other in the dark sides commons one night and opened up about missing Virgil. It was the first time either of them had been so open with the other and it was the start of a beautiful and weird thing between them. It started slowly with just hanging out all the time, but then one night Remus shakily reached over during an anime he was watching and grabbed Janus' hand. It was all fast after that, and a supposed silver lining to Virgil's absence.

"You still..." Remus mumbled, brushing down Janus' arm slowly "have some.." he picked up the snake-like side's appendage. "Janus shreds to remove," and started to slowly take off the rest of his shed. Janus just turns his head over, sighing at the satisfying feeling, content to fall asleep and deal with washing the sheets later.

"Alright, come on!" Janus lets out a whine as Remus pulls him up and takes him back to the bathroom. The other got undressed and Janus removed the water from the tub while the shower turned on, Remus quickly washed off and then walked back to Janus. "Let's get the rest of this off, hmm?"

Janus nodded and settled down on the side of the tub, it was an ornate one with golden legs on the four sides in the shape of snakes and white marble coloring on the rest. "Are you for real not going to movie night?" Janus sighed as Remus carefully took off the rest of his dead skin, if you tried to remove it too soon it burned and might even bleed, but now it was high past time and felt like bliss.

"Although I would just love to be berated all night long, I think I will be content enough to read the night away." Janus felt a little disappointed at the thought, but even Patton was starting to irritate him. He was treating the deceitful side like a hurt puppy rather than confronting the others. He knew that it wouldn't help, but a little effort in the right direction wouldn't kill.

"Buzzkill...that's fair, and if that bottle was full before it got to your room you're also shitfaced." He laughed, picking up the almost empty container and chugging the rest.

The other just nodded. There was certainty a blur around the edges of his mind growing stronger, and he leaned into Remus' touch as he massaged his shoulders far after his shed was gone the rest of the way. "I think I would just like to go to bed, okay?"

"Do you know people spend ⅓ of their life asleep, meaning that people waste 229'961 hours of their life so they can hallucinate while drooling?"

"Logan has been a bad influence on you," Janus mumbles as they both dry off and make it back to Janus' room. "You should still go, if you want."

Remus in response snuggled under the covers with Janus and closed his eyes, shrugging. "I'm good here, boo, at least until you fall asleep."

"Thank you," the yellow side grumbles, it does take awhile for him to actually rest, but Remus pulled out some sort of book Janus knew better than to look at, and seemed content enough to stay.

---

Janus woke up from a nightmare with a scream and immediately fell into a panic attack. He tried to get the air past his lungs and tore through his hair, his face and arms heavy and numb to him.

Remus was around him a moment later, hugging his shoulders and badly guiding him through a breathing exercise. It took a few minutes but he got back down to where he could speak.

"What if I'm bad for Thomas?" He whispered, hands falling into his lap, he swallowed and almost started to wonder if Remus had heard him. A mantra of monster, monster, monster, monster  was cycling through his head, leftover fragments of the cacophony in his dream that was already becoming hard to remember.

"What? " Remus sounded furious, his voice a low growl and Janus folded in on himself, closing his eyes, arms going around his chest.

"Virgil said...I just...no one ever thinks that they're the bad guy, I was happy to play the part if it meant I could get Thomas to see...but what if I wasn't...?" His voice wavered, he knew he was going to regret telling Remus who exactly caused this particular episode, but maybe he deserved it after all the crap he'd been pulling.

"This has to stop!" Remus spat, voice still low. Another aspect that is opposite from Roman, when Remus gets angry it's a cold, quiet fury  "when are you going get your head out of your ass, Janny? My fuckass brother gets butthurt once and you're just going to let everything slide by from now on?"

"It's not like that, I don't want anything getting in between me and Thomas or hurting him and that situation has clearly has done both, things will smooth over-"

"Will they really stop though," Remus softened. "You have proved yourself already and Thomas has even told them to chill and they are not any closer to being done with their crap!"

They both stayed quiet for awhile after that..."you're right, something has to budge, im sorry".

"You shouldnt be apologizing to me, i'm not mad at you... i'm gonna go get you some of those sleepy bears" Remus jumped off the bed and Janus didn't expect him back for awhile. At least he put pants on.

Laying back down he realized he had only slept for about two hours, and movie night was on downstairs. He burrowed down with a groan, they had to have heard him scream. He begged the universe that Remus would just go and get the melanin gummies from the kitchen and that would be the end of it.

Of course that wasn't the end of it, but at least Janus wasn't aware for a while.

---

Remus was absolutely fuming when he left the room, intending to break down Virgil's door if it killed him, but when he heard a movie going on downstairs he figured that would work too.

The movie was immediately paused as Remus thundered down the steps. He realized just now that the others probably haven't seen him this truly angry, or even this serious, and Thomas was in the room. That almost changed his mind about whatever he was gonna do when he got to Virgil, but decided that Thomas might need to be privy to the conversation.

"You" He growled, pointing at Virgil who snapped his head up at him from his usual spot. Roman tried to get in the way but Remus summoned some weird handcuff thing and threw it in his direction. It latched onto both his hands and then flew to the wall behind him, connecting to it. It then pulled him back and away. He jumped up on the couch and pulled Virgil up by his hoodie, pushing him against the wall.

"What the-" Virgil started, but Remus shook him.

"You need to put your ducklings in a row before I kill em all!" Remus noted the fear in his eyes and how tight he was holding the other, and loosened his grip.

"What are you talking about?" Virgil said, not moving. Remus was sure he would know why he was here now that it was brought to his attention. Virgil always knew when there was a spike in anxiety somewhere in the mindscape and that much from Janus would have crossed the radar.

"You know damn well what, you pitch black nightmare!" Remus spat, "Do you honestly think that Thomas is better without Janus?"

That stopped him short, and over his shoulder Remus could see everyone's head snap from him to Virgil. "...I didn't say that''

"Well you said something that has him convinced him he's no good for Thomas!"

"He isn't," Virgil insisted, looking like he regretted the words immediately.

"Do you really believe that or are you hiding from the fact that you were wrong and are being an asshole's asshole about it?" That shut him up quick and Remus let him go and walked over to Roman who was as quiet as everyone else was, "Parties over you can go back to your movie". The anger had fizzled when he saw how scared Virgil was, and he had already told Roman off several times. Thomas would most likely have a few words with them, so that would have to be enough. He produced a key and unlocked his twin, with a click the cuffs and key disappeared.

There were a few scattered murmurs from the living room as Remus grabbed a few gummies and ate them, grabbing an extra and heading upstairs with it.

"Hey..." It was Thomas that spoke up, and in a quiet tone that gave Remus pause half-way up, "is everything alright, I mean... what happened?"

Remus opened his mouth to tell him, but closed it again when Logan shifted. "Ask him yourself". Thomas nodded, clearly a bit disappointed with the answer and Remus went to leave.

"He had a panic attack," Virgil mumbled, looking down at his feet numbly.

The others in the room looked mostly shocked but Thomas looked aghast. Before he could say anything else Remus huffed in disgust and walked away to go take care of Janus.

---

Janus stayed in his room most of the next few days, his panic attack was more than enough to tell him he needed a break, so unless directly called upon he would spend some time doing just that. He did leave a couple of times early in the morning to help Patton with breakfast and chat with Logan, but for a much shorter time and left quickly if anyone other than Remus showed face. Everyone was acting a bit strangely but Janus refused to put much thought into it. They all had nightmares, so hearing him yell yesterday shouldn't be something they are able to hold over his head.

He'd also scheduled an early meeting with Dr. Pacini, and he assured Janus that he was handling the situation very well. Taking a step back and avoiding anything that could be triggering for a short time could do some good, although he did ask Janus to lower his alcohol consumption to at least every other day and not fully isolate himself.

He also asked that Janus talk to Thomas about his worries, but was immediately shot down in the meeting. Now that it was in his mind though, Janus felt himself slowly lose the will to not do just that. He would have to explain why he had been absent recently and had made it a point to stop lying to Thomas.

Perhaps he would just explain certain things to his host, that he had wanted to relax a little and that was why he was distant the last few days. Something to sooth the others likely worries and it would be nice to see Thomas, as his company was rather nice.

That's what he told himself as he appeared in Thomas' room late one night, only to find the other on his laptop entranced by Netflix and unaware of his presence.

Janus smiled lightly, happy to see the other enjoying himself, although with the late hour Logan was sure to have a fit. Instead of interrupting he simply started to move about the room, he probably should have gone to bed himself, but a little tidying wouldn't hurt.

He was able to check if Thomas' house plant needed watering, fold some shirts on the floor and straighten up the chair in the corner before he was noticed.

"Oh, hey Janus" Thomas smiled and closed the laptop when he saw the other, "sorry I didn't see you there, um, what are you doing?"

"It's no bother Thomas, it's not like I've taken time out of my very busy schedule of doing nothing to come and check on you at a ridiculous hour only to have you pay me no mind while I clean your room" He waved his hand dismissively and sat next to Thomas, who let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah, I actually wanted to check on you, I haven't seen you in the past few days and figured you might want some space but I was getting worried"

"Whatever would you need to be worried about?" Janus tried, icy trepidation making its way up his spine, "I'm doing well".

Thomas paused, looking a bit guilty "look, Jan, I know that you had a panic attack and you don't have to talk about it now but i'd like to maybe figure out why so I can help"

Janus paused, ready to deny and avoid but Thomas gave him that 'im Thomas and too wholesome and caring for this world look' and he signed quietly to himself, now at a loss for words. He felt panic brewing at being so exposed and a slight anger at himself for letting Thomas worry about him.

"You really don't have to talk about it, I swear, and i'm worried but I know you can take care of yourself and..." Thomas filled the prolonged silence with rushed and nervous words that Janus wanted to interrupt but his mouth just wasn't working.

He could say many things. Something to soften the blow, a half-truth that Thomas wouldn't fall for but would allow given the circumstances. He could lie, say that whatever Remus said was just to throw Thomas off, but Thomas had not mentioned Remus and if Janus did then that would be an easy hole to poke through. He could tell Thomas he wasn't ready to discuss it and be left feeling awkward and guilty, because while that isn't necessarily a lie, he would still be keeping secrets from Thomas.

All of these thoughts swirled through Janus's head as Thomas's rambling became muffled and his breath came in shorter gasps.

"Do you think i'm evil?" It was the first thing on Janus' tongue and the last thing he actually wanted to open up to Thomas about. He didn't know if he would be able to take the answer being yes, but a lie to try and comfort him would tear him to pieces.

After a long silence Thomas finally spoke,"What?". His voice was gentle but alarmed, meant to brush away Janus' worries.

The deceptive side tried to respond but he stopped and took a shaky breath, grounding himself. "It has been on my mind for awhile, I know it is unreasonable to ask you to answer that, I just...its tough being insulted by people you (that Thomas cares) care about and I am concerned as to how their opinions are affecting your own"

"Janus, it's not unreasonable to voice your concerns, and... I can't say with certainty that I don't view you as at least a little bad, but i'm working on unlearning that type of thinking and Virgil and Roman aren't going to make me change my mind on that, okay?"

Janus' body relaxed from the tension he didn't know he was holding and he sighed, leaning heavily on his hands. That was somehow the perfect response and Janus felt some sort of weight leave him. "Woah, hey, its okay", Thomas scrambled forwards to sit next to where Janus was, rubbing circles on his back, "Did I say something wrong?"

Janus shook his head, confused as to what the other meant, until he realized he was shaking and had started crying. Shame and fear rose past his relief, but Thomas had wrapped his arm around the others shoulder and Janus couldn't stop himself from accepting the comfort.

He leaned into Thomas' hug, putting his face onto the others shoulder as he let out the first real sob he'd let happen in months. Thomas, ever patient, simply whispered soothing words and rubbed circles on his back.

It took several minutes for Janus to calm down, but once he did he remained in Thomas' grasp for a while longer. "I didn't mean..." Janus started to pull back not sure what he was going to say and looked down at Thomas' shirt, wet with tears, "to ruin your shirt" he finished lamely.

Thomas just frowned and shook his head, worry creasing his brow. Janus sighed and looked away, rubbing his forehead. Thomas had never seen Janus like this, sure he was less guarded around his host but he still wasn't sure what to tell Thomas now that he had all of a sudden broken down. "I feel...better now" was what eventually came out, along with a shaky laugh.

"That's good" Thomas smiled, patting him awkwardly on the back. "Are the others all busy, or, I mean, do you have someone to be with right now, I guess"

"No, Remus is in the imagination and I believe all others are resting, but I can assure you that I will take care of myself." He winked at the other "self-care and all that".

That earned him a laugh, "Right, yeah...you mean a lot to me Janus, okay, I really hope that I wasn't hurting you by not telling you that sooner"

"No, Thomas, I should have come to you sooner and it's really not as bad as it might seem, I am a professional at bottling up my emotions, as it were"

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense..." They sat in comfortable silence for awhile after that, taking a minute to let everything soak in, "If you wanna stay, I was watching the office?"

"That sounds abhorrent" Janus jibed, as he waved his hand and changed into his pajamas, sitting down next to Thomas as he started up the laptop again.

After a few episodes Janus felt his body get lighter and he fell asleep content and laughing with Thomas.

Thank you so much for reading everyone, I appreciated every like and comment and feel free to critique! I wish you well and goodnight!

AFTERWORD IS POSTED! I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO LINK IT IM SORRY!

[madlori]

Unveiled - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 2600 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Shockingly, there is no sex in this one. But lots of gooshy feelings.

Read it on AO3

Zhenya was in the stable, brushing Admiral and brooding, when Sidney came bounding in. “Hey!” Sidney said, beaming a wide smile at him.

“Well, where the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you for...four days!” he said, mentally counting back to the day before the pregnancy announcement, when he’d last seen Sidney.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. Maybe you’ve heard that His Highness is pregnant.”

“I might have heard a rumor going around about that, yeah.” He left Admiral’s stall and went into Lady Esther’s, where Sidney was giving her apple slices. “Is he all right? I haven’t actually seen him myself in a few days.”

Hence his brooding mood today. He’d woken up alone the morning after their blindfolded encounter, his consort having risen early and left him. He hadn’t thought much of it (his husband was a notoriously early riser, which he definitely was not), but after not seeing him all day he didn’t get a knock on his door. The next day had been the same, and now this was the third day. He was starting to worry that the intensity of that celebratory sex had spooked his husband. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been spooked a little himself. He couldn’t help but think that they’d crossed a line past what was appropriate for embargoed spouses, even if they’d kept to the letter of the law.

“There’s been a lot going on. He has to get fitted for all these special custom unveiling clothes, and then for the ball, and then his royal stuff, jewels and crowns and things he’ll have to wear after the unveiling. Plus the doctor is all up in his business constantly, and...well, he’s been feeling a little...not great.”

Zhenya straightened up. “He’s unwell?”

Sidney shrugged. “Nothing serious. Tired, upset stomach. That’s pretty normal for a pregnant person, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe I should send him a message. I don’t want him to think I’m just skipping blithely through the day without a thought to his welfare.”

“He doesn’t think that, I’m sure. Anyway he seemed much better this morning.”

“Just in time. He has his first official event tonight.”

“Yep. No offense, but I’m glad I don’t have to go.”

“Oh, you’re not guarding him?”

“No, there’ll just be two guards. Probably Letang and Patty.” He picked up Lady Esther’s saddle. “Are we riding?”

Zhenya started to say “yes,” but the word stuck in his throat. “I can’t.”

“Oh,” Sidney said, looking a little disappointed. “Other plans?”

“I’m...I just…” He sighed, then plunged ahead. “I should be dedicating my attention to my spouse, even if my time with him is limited. He’s carrying my child. I shouldn’t be...gallivanting around with another man.”

Sidney blinked at him. “Is that what we’ve been doing? Gallivanting?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I thought we were friends.” Now he just looked sad.

“Are we?” Zhenya said, quietly. They locked eyes, and he saw that Sidney knew exactly what he meant. “My first loyalty must be to him. And I’d have thought that yours would be, too.”

Sidney’s face did something he couldn’t quite parse. He turned his back and put Lady Esther’s saddle back on its peg. “As you wish, Your Royal Highness,” he said, subdued. 

He walked past Zhenya towards the door, but as he drew even with him, Zhenya’s hand shot out and caught his sleeve. He’d barely been aware that he was going to do that. “It’s my fault,” he said, quietly. “Don’t think it’s because I don’t…” He couldn’t finish.

Sidney looked up at him, resignation in his eyes. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on here, Zhenya.” He pulled away and strode off across the lawn.

Zhenya frowned. He had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

---------

Even though he would not be officially introduced to the kingdom until his unveiling, now that the consort had conceived, he could be included in certain private state functions in a very limited capacity. One such occasion was this evening, a dinner honoring their chief jurist, who was retiring after a long and distinguished career. The King would be presenting him with a medal of meritorious service, and colleagues and friends would give speeches praising his achievements and character. The consort could not attend the bulk of the event; if he did, the embargo would prohibit Zhenya from speaking for the entire evening. After the dinner and speeches, he would join Zhenya briefly and be introduced to the gathered nobles and officials by the King, spend a few minutes being bowed to and congratulated, and then be escorted out. It was a bit of a dog-and-pony show, but it was part of the long process of welcoming a new consort into the royal family. His pregnancy would not be publicly announced, but the mere fact that he was being introduced to society and an unveiling was being planned would be enough to clue everyone in that the Crown Prince’s consort was expecting.

Zhenya was restless during dinner and speeches, anticipating his consort’s arrival. He was feeling both eager to see him and anxious for everything to go well. All the Very Distinguished speakers seemed to drone on endlessly as the guests ate the delicate desserts and sipped rich, sweet wine. The jurist himself, bless his heart, gave a refreshingly brief acceptance speech, then knelt before the King to receive his medal. Zhenya stood at his father’s side and made a concerted effort to actually keep his mind on the task at hand; this man’s service deserved his full attention. The fact that the guests were meeting the consort tonight would not have been revealed to them, but the savvier ones might have guessed once they were ushered into a drawing room for cocktails after dinner, instead of being bid good-night.

Zhenya prowled around, distracted and impatient, until finally the door cracked open and Sasha beckoned him out. He excused himself and left the drawing room; Fleury was waiting for him in the hall. “His Highness is on his way. He apologizes for keeping you waiting.” Fleury glanced around, then leaned in and spoke quietly. “He’s been throwing up since this afternoon. If this appearance could be kept as brief as possible, we’d all be grateful.”

“Of course,” Zhenya said. “If we need to postpone it altogether…”

“No, no. He’s ready, he wants to do this. Just don’t keep him any longer than you need to.”

“Absolutely.” He turned to Sasha. “Tell my father that we’ll be keeping the greetings to fifteen minutes, maximum.”

“You want me to tell the King that?” Sasha said, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes. If he has a problem with that, tell him I’ll be glad to cancel the entire thing and allow my husband to rest while he’s gestating the future King or Queen of this country.”

Sasha gave him a sort of it’s your funeral look and went back into the drawing room.

Fleury had a finger in his ear, listening on his communicator. “They’re here.”

They both turned just in time to see the consort and two guards -- Letang and the burly blond one called Patty -- round the corner. Zhenya’s breath caught in his throat; even extensively veiled as he was, his consort looked stunning. The veils were gold and black, loose around his face and shoulders and then elaborately draped and fitted around his torso and hips so they suggested formalwear. They flowed loose down his upper arms and back, floating dramatically behind him. He wore a tailored suit underneath the veils.

Zhenya made no effort to mask his admiration as they approached. The consort nodded to him; Zhenya put a hand over his heart and bowed quickly. He extended his arm; the consort placed one gloved hand gently in the crook of his elbow. Zhenya observed that he was moving carefully; he must still be feeling queasy. Fleury went to the door and gave a quick knock to indicate that they were ready.

They moved to the doorway; from inside, Zhenya heard the sergeant-at-arms speak in his booming voice to get everyone’s attention. “My lords and ladies, friends and distinguished guests. His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen present His Royal Highness, Prince Evgeni, accompanying his husband, the Prince Consort.” Zhenya heard an excited murmur rise inside the room. The footmen threw open the double doors and Zhenya stepped inside, pride swelling in his chest as he walked forward with his consort on his arm.

They greeted Zhenya’s parents first, the consort bowing to them, and then the King joined them as they began to move through the crowd. To Zhenya’s relief, he was carefully selecting who would get the honor of a formal introduction to keep his poor husband from having to endure hours of meeting everyone in attendance. The sergeant-at-arms murmured each person’s name as they were presented. Most bowed to the consort, some kissed his gloved hand. The consort kept his other hand tight on Zhenya’s elbow; he was definitely holding himself rigidly upright.

“He seems tense,” his father whispered to Zhenya as they crossed the room to meet the guest of honor.

“He’s trying not to vomit, Father. Give him a break.” Zhenya whispered quietly near his father’s ear, conscious of the embargo against his mate hearing him.

“Poor fellow. Having a hard time of it, is he?”

“I understand it comes and goes. But he’s had a bad afternoon.” As if on cue, the consort swayed a little, free hand going to his stomach while the other clamped down on Zhenya’s arm. Zhenya decided they’d had enough. He shot his father a look, slipped his arm around the consort’s waist and steered him to the door.

“Please excuse my son,” the King said. “His consort has been -- unwell.” Absolutely everyone in attendance understood what was meant by that. Zhenya heard sympathetic whispers; a few comments of “be well” and “take care of yourself” followed them out.

Fleury was waiting right outside, holding a trash can just in case. As soon as the door shut behind them, the consort sagged against Zhenya’s chest with a sigh of relief. Zhenya wrapped his arms around him, stroking his back. Fleury held out the trash can; the consort shook his head, took a deep breath and straightened up. He nodded quickly in a clear “I’m ok” gesture. Zhenya lifted his eyebrow. Are you sure? The consort pulled off his black leather gloves and squeezed one of Zhenya’s hands, then lifted his hand to stroke Zhenya’s cheek. Zhenya plucked his husband’s hand off his face and pressed a kiss to his palm. The consort seemed to sway toward him a little, lingering, then withdrew his hand and turned to his guards. They took their places at his side and headed back down the corridor. Fleury started to follow but Zhenya held him back. “Is he all right? Please tell me the truth.”

“He will be. Surely you know this is common.”

“I didn’t think it started this early, he’s not even a month along.”

“It often starts earlier for men. Something about body fat percentage, I’ve heard.”

“Please tell him that if he needs help or comfort at night, he always has my permission to enter my room. He needn’t knock.”

Fleury nodded, smiling a little. “I’ll tell him. Thank you, sir.” He hurried to catch up with his charge, leaving Zhenya standing alone in the hallway, feeling useless.

The door eased open behind him; he turned to see Judge Amarov emerge. “Your Honor, you should stay at your party, all is well,” Zhenya said.

Amarov flapped a hand and made a “pshaw” noise. “Bunch of suck-ups. I’ve been tongue-bathed enough for one night. How are you, Zhenyenka?”

He nodded. “All right. Anxious.”

“It’s hard the first time. My wife carried our first and had a terrible time. I carried our second and it was a breeze, for which she’s never forgiven me. But, I do still have the recipe for the ginger toddy I used to make for her, which I’d be happy to share.”

Zhenya smiled. “I just wish I could tell him how much I...well.”

“The embargo is a hardship. I confess I don’t understand why we put our leaders through it. I can’t imagine how you all do it.”

“We’re brought up with it. It seems normal to me. I just didn’t expect...certain things.”

“Nothing is ever what we expect. I know the rules you must obey, but between you and me, Zhenya? If you break them when you are alone with him, nobody will ever know.”

“I would be prepared for that, but I don’t wish to disrespect him. He values the embargo rules, and so must I.”

“Then the fact that you honor his commitment tells him everything that you wish you could say.”

---------

That night, Zhenya was lying in bed reading, not expecting company. Even if his nausea had abated, his consort was likely to be tired and not in the mood for sex.

So he was surprised when the door to the Royal Bedchamber opened, tentatively. He sat up, putting his book aside. The consort poked his veiled head around the door, looking unsure of himself. Zhenya beckoned him into his bedroom; he seemed relieved and entered, shutting the door behind him. He was fully veiled but also dressed in sleeping clothes, loose pants and a t-shirt. He just stood there for a moment, fidgeting from foot to foot and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Zhenya scooted over a little and flipped the bedclothes back, holding out a hand to invite his husband to join him. The consort’s posture relaxed and he walked over to the bed, slipping between the sheets. They just looked at each other for a moment; Zhenya thought about what he might want, what he might need, if he were the one in this precarious physical state. He slid down in the bed and held out one arm. He heard his consort exhale and he stretched out close to him at once, snuggling against his chest and tucking his face into Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya wrapped his arms around his consort, sighing at how well they fit together, how natural it felt just to hold him. He gently stroked his hand up and down the consort’s back over his drapings, and within just a few moments, he felt the man’s breathing deepen and knew that he was asleep.

This became their routine. Zhenya grew accustomed to seeing the door open and his consort joining him in bed. Soon, Zhenya began to think of the bedroom as as theirs rather than his -- over the days that followed, his consort was often to be found there, reading or bathing or simply relaxing. Then, they’d climb into bed together and curl into each other’s arms. Zhenya didn’t initiate sex and neither did his consort, who often seemed tired.

The second morning of this new normal, Zhenya woke up to the sound of his consort retching piteously in the bathroom. He almost got up to help him, but thought better of it -- he’d have had to lift his veils to vomit, and he’d be furious if Zhenya barged in. All he could do was sit and listen as he flushed the toilet, rinsed his mouth and came back into the bedroom. He responded to Zhenya’s are you all right eyebrow-raise with a waggle of his hand. All right. He returned to bed and came straight into Zhenya’s arms again. Zhenya slid his hand down to rest on his belly, their child growing ever stronger beneath his hand; the consort covered the hand with his own and sighed into Zhenya’s neck.

Next Chapter

[sanaworld]

something to say - meanie || ~2.2k words

synopsis: wonwoo is an mc for a popular korean award show. mingyu is trying to get him alone for a minute so he can tell wonwoo something very important...

notes: this is a gift for @aussie-kpop-stan​ !! merry christmas :D i was inspired to write this fic based on the conversations we had over the past couple weeks :3 hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful christmas :)

———

wonwoo was rehearsing his lines when mingyu burst through his dressing room door.

“wonwoo! i’ve been looking for you everywhere!” the younger bent over, his chest heaving. “good lord, i couldn’t find you anywhere.”

wonwoo looked up from his cue cards and smiled.

“i’ve been in here all morning, gyu,” he said softly.

mingyu rolled his eyes in response.

“listen, i have to tell you something. it’s like, super important, so do you have time to-“

mingyu’s cut off when wonwoo’s manager pokes his head into the room.

“wonwoo? you’re on in ten.”

wonwoo nods in response.

“can we talk later? i gotta go.”

mingyu’s face falls for a moment before nodding.

“sure, but it’s really important.”

wonwoo grins.

“i won’t forget.”

being one of the main mc’s on one of korea’s biggest award shows meant that wonwoo was constantly busy- either running through his lines or studying each new group that would be performing that day or trying on new outfits for a recording. plus, tonight was the night he was filming for the christmas special, meaning he was even that more busy. he didn’t blame mingyu for not being able to find him. wonwoo could’ve been anywhere in the studio. hence, it was all the more reason for wonwoo to remember to find mingyu once the recording was over.

he was in the middle of reading his lines for some girl group whose name he couldn’t remember when he saw mingyu step directly behind the cameraman. the younger made eye contact with wonwoo before waving aggressively in his direction. wonwoo felt his cheeks grow warm, causing him to stumble over one of his lines.

“CUT!” the director called out. “wonwoo, i told you to rehearse your lines. we don’t have time to re-record every single shot.”

wonwoo felt his face grow even warmer before apologizing quickly. the director frowned.

“someone come fix his makeup. we’ll resume in five.”

wonwoo was dragged by the makeup artists backstage where he was plopped down in front of a large mirror. immediately, he was attacked by brushes and liquids and cologne. he closed his eyes to prevent blush from getting into them while he listened to the chatter of the makeup artists and stylists milling around him.

“wonu!” a deep familiar voice cut through wonwoo’s thoughts. his eyes opened. the first thing he saw was mingyu sitting on the chair right next to his. his long legs were crossed as he bent over to look wonwoo directly into his eyes.

“do you have a second? i wanna tell you that thing from before.”

“erm,” wonwoo hesitated before answering. “i’m not sure… i think i’ll be back on soon-“

“hey! wonwoo, we need you back on stage. and who is that guy you’re talking to? someone please escort him out,” one of the stage managers pointed at mingyu. wonwoo stood up quickly.

“no, it’s fine. this is mingyu, he's one of the performers today. plus, um,” wonwoo looked back at mingyu whose dark brown eyes were already looking up at him. “he’s one of my friends.”

wonwoo found himself being dragged away again by more of the stage workers.

“later,” he mouthed to mingyu who was quickly blocked from view by the workers.

“thank you all for watching us tonight! we’ll see you tomorrow at 7!”

“CUT! wonwoo that was perfect. ok, everyone take a break. we need to start filming for tomorrow night as well,” the director’s voice boomed. wonwoo let out a sigh of relief. he was done, at least for the next few hours. he took a sip from his water bottle before he was directed back to his dressing room by his stylists. wonwoo was sort of pushed into the room by one of the bigger stylists before they shut the door loudly behind him.

“you have one hour!” a voice called from the other side of the closed door.

wonwoo rolled his eyes.

“great,” he muttered.

“that’s not a very nice thing to do.”

wonwoo nearly jumped out of his skin.

“mingyu!? what are you doing in my dressing room?”

mingyu had been sitting on one of the chairs in the corner of the room. he was hidden by a rack of clothing and a large cabinet, but he poked his head out when wonwoo came into the room.

“i told you i had something to tell you! i didn’t know where you’d be after recording, so i just decided to wait in here. you have a lot of water, by the way,” mingyu took a sip from one of wonwoo’s water bottles before standing up and striding over towards where wonwoo was still standing, clearly appalled.

“you went through my fridge!?” wonwoo stuttered in disbelief. mingyu let out one of his loud chuckles.

“i thought you wouldn’t miss one of your gazillion water bottles in there. i didn’t touch the pie,” he licked his lips before glancing at wonwoo mischievously, ”i promise.”

wonwoo rolled his eyes again.

“can you please leave? i want to change.”

“you mean you can’t do that with me here? i swear i won’t look.”

wonwoo groaned.

“i really can’t. if you stand right outside the door, i promise i’ll come find you once i’m done and then you can tell me that thing you’ve been trying to tell me all day.”

mingyu sighed before tossing the empty water bottle into the trash.

“promise?” he asked, his eyes mimicking those of a sad puppy. wonwoo blushed.

“yes. i promise.”

mingyu frowned before brushing passed wonwoo and leaving the dressing room.

wonwoo glanced at himself in his mirror. he noticed the dark red of his cheeks, which quickly grew as he became embarrassed at the sight.

wonwoo was only able to unbutton the first button of his shirt when someone came through the door.

“mingyu, i haven't even started changing-“ wonwoo stopped mid-sentence when he saw that the person who had come into his room wasn’t mingyu, but wonwoo’s manager.

“wonwoo? we need to talk.”

wonwoo swallowed thickly.

“i’ve been hearing that a lot today,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“please sit,” his manager spoke as they both sat at the chairs in the corner.

“am i in trouble?” wonwoo asked quietly. he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. his manager laughed and wonwoo felt a quick wash of relief.

“no, of course not.”

the manager shifted in his seat.

“ever since you were hired on this broadcast, ratings have skyrocketed. people love your personality and charisma that you bring to the show.”

wonwoo fiddled uncomfortably with a loose string on his pants. he was never good at taking compliments.

“that’s why the station wants to offer you your own show. it would be a variety show airing friday nights at eight.”

wonwoo’s eyes lit up.

“friday night? that’s the most popular slot-“

his manager nodded enthusiastically.

“that’s how much they like you, wonwoo. what do you say?”

wonwoo felt a surge of excitement shoot through him.

“yes! of course! definitely! yes!” the words tumbled out of his mouth. his manager laughed.

“that’s what i thought. i already have the papers you need to sign in the conference room. we should probably head over there now while you’re on your break.”

wonwoo felt so happy, he could hardly speak. he followed his manager like a puppy as they stepped out of the dressing room. wonwoo’s about to open his mouth to ask another question about his new show when he feels someone grab tightly onto his hand. wonwoo whips around. mingyu quickly lets go of his hand. his eyes looked darker than usual.

“wonwoo, i thought you said we could talk,” mingyu said softly. wonwoo’s face fell.

“i know- i know what i said. i just-“ wonwoo looked back at his manager who stood a few feet away, waiting. “i have just a few more things to take care of, ok?”

mingyu sighed.

“sure. just…” mingyu trailed off. “don’t forget about me, wonu.”

“wonwoo? are you coming? we don’t have all day!” wonwoo’s manager called. wonwoo reaches forward, placing his hand on mingyu’s shoulder for a moment before turning and following his manager further into the venue.

wonwoo steps out into the frigid december weather. it was about 2am when he finished filming and he was utterly exhausted. he mentally cursed himself for forgetting his gloves at his apartment that morning. he rubbed his hands together, attempting to warm them through friction and his hot breath.

“need some gloves?”

wonwoo jumped, not expecting to hear another voice outside at two in the morning. mingyu was leaning against the wall next to the door of the venue. he wore a large brown coat with a red scarf around his neck and his hands in his pockets. he looked warm.

“no thanks. i don’t live very far from here anyway,” wonwoo smiled awkwardly. mingyu stepped towards wonwoo.

“are you sure? i have an extra pair.”

gloves do sound nice, wonwoo thought. he shook his head.

“i’m okay. really.”

he looked down, trying to avoid mingyu’s gaze.

“what’d you want to tell me, anyway?” wonwoo asked, looking up at mingyu. the latter was already staring at him. his cheeks grew warm.

“it doesn’t matter,” mingyu spoke, his breath visible in the air. wonwoo blinked.

“oh sure it does,” he said, astonished. “you’ve been trying to tell me all day.”

mingyu looked away.

“it doesn’t matter anymore,” he repeated. “just forget it.”

wonwoo lowered his eyes.

“what’re you talking about, gyu? just tell me.”

mingyu shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“no. i- i forgot what it was anyway.”

wonwoo snorted.

“yeah right. i’m not stupid, mingyu. just tell me what it was.”

mingyu clenched his jaw.

“i shouldn’t have brought it up. i’m going home.” he announced sternly. turning on his heel, mingyu began to walk through the snow, back to his apartment. wonwoo stared at mingyu’s back before glaring into the snow.

“hey- come back here!” wonwoo shouted as he began to run after the younger.

“mingyu! stop being such a baby and tell me what it was!” wonwoo yelled, reaching out and grabbing mingyu’s shoulder.

“don’t touch me,” mingyu lashed out, shrugging wonwoo’s hand off of him roughly.

“mingyu! what is your deal-“ before wonwoo could finish his sentence, he lost his footing on the snow. tumbling forward, he knocked into mingyu, causing the two to crash down into the snow.

“what the- get off, wonwoo-“

“what!? you think i tackled you on purpose!?”

“just get off! i’m getting snow in my shoes-“

the two were tangled in their own limbs in the snow. they rolled around for a moment, each blaming the other for their current situation. finally, wonwoo managed to shove mingyu off of him. the two laid there, then, with their backs in the snow.

“i did get snow in my shoes. happy now?” mingyu grumbled next to him.

“please tell me what you wanted to say earlier today,” wonwoo whispered. mingyu’s quiet for a moment. wonwoo almost thought mingyu didn’t hear him. suddenly, mingyu lets out a groan before draping an arm over his eyes.

“i just- i wanted to tell you that i love you.”

wonwoo’s mouth goes dry.

“i love you in, like, the lovey dovey way. not in the friend way. like, i kinda wanna kiss you sometimes. that’s it. that’s all i wanted to say. satisfied?”

the two are silent for a moment. the only sound is the noise from the cars in the city. besides that, everything is silent. even the snow as it fell over the two boys.

suddenly, wonwoo breaks through the silence when he lets out a loud laugh. his shoulders shake as he rolls over to his side. he’s clutching his stomach as laughter boils out of him. he feel like he can’t stop. mingyu, on the other hand, is mortified.

“what’s your deal, wonwoo? i’m serious! i really really like you!” mingyu feels like he’s gonna die of embarrassment. wonwoo needs to take a few deep breaths to compose himself before speaking.

“why didn’t you just say so, mingyu!” wonwoo lets out another sputter of laughter before he’s hit by a snowball on his side.

“wonwoo, you son of a-“ mingyu’s insult is cut off from a snowball hitting him on his leg. wonwoo is in another fit of laughter that gradually increases as the two begin to chuck snowballs at one another.

“mingyu-“ wonwoo chokes. “mingyu- stop. i can’t breathe-“

mingyu doesn’t answer. he simply grins evilly at the older and chucks another snowball in his direction. wonwoo lowers his eyebrows before tackling mingyu again.

“don’t make me do it, gyu,” he says as he rolls on top of the taller. mingyu laughs.

“do what? act me to death? i’d like to see you try,” mingyu cackles.

“you asked for it,” wonwoo grumbles before he leans down and kisses mingyu. both of their lips are cold and wonwoo can’t really feel his fingers on mingyu’s cheeks, but the warmth from their bodies together spreads throughout wonwoo’s own. when wonwoo pulls away, mingyu’s eyes flutter open. the familiar warmth is back in his brown eyes.

“i love you too, mingyu. in, like, a lovey dovey way,” wonwoo says softly as his thumbs absentmindedly rub mingyu’s cold cheeks. mingyu grins brightly before pushing himself up more to kiss wonwoo again. wonwoo pulls away quickly.

“hey, it’s two in the morning, right?” he asks the boy below him. mingyu nods.

“merry christmas, wonwoo,” mingyu responds quietly, his eyes crinkling as he smiles brightly.

“merry christmas, mingyu,” wonwoo whispers as he leans down to kiss the other again.

♡ END ♡

[gaasaku-fanfests]

Misfits (part 7 & 8)

Title: Misfits Author: clem-chan Rating: T Word Count: 27 388 Summary: Marrying a CEO in the midst of a romantic scandal to pay for med school is not the happy ending Sakura imagined for herself. The arrangement that started as constant bickering soon becomes so much more… If only her husband was hers to fall in love with. GaaSaku. Modern!AU Warnings: There is a light make-out session hence the T rating. There’s also mention of child abuse and childhood trauma. Minor ships: light KankuKiba, very light ShikaTema, mention of NejiTen.

Author’s Note(s): Two little things to mention: First, I wanted to keep this accessible to all, so I have cut out more raunchy scenes which will be posted in the AO3 version of this fic soon. Second, I have this headcannon where Gaara and Sakura are just two misfits. :P So, that’s what this story is about: two misfits forced together. XD Hope you enjoy it! ^_^

Trope: Arranged Marriage

. [warnings are for overall fanfic, not individual parts.]

PART 7

It all went wrong.

Breathlessly, Sakura pulled at her gloves. They snapped. They ripped. They clung to her moist skin. She balled the gloves in a numb fist.

"Call it," her attending said with blanched lips.

It was an unexpected death. A rushed one. An exhausting haunting one that shook the bed with desperate procedures, a cardiac massage that came too late. They had rocked the body in an awkward position to intubate.

The throat had refused the intrusion, the lungs collapsed, the muscles too rigid for it to pass.

The tube now rested on her chest.

"Sakura!" the doctor repeated exasperated. "Call it."

The attending tore her mask from her face and sank down on a stool.

"5:37, patient is dead," Sakura replied coldly, and she exited the room.

No one stopped her.

She jogged, she ran, she walked, pieces of her scattered across the hospital. She was the angry yelling doctor in the ER giving a cardiac massage to a bleeding young woman. She was the nervous doctor counting the litres of blood loss. She was the drained, devastated doctor staring at a cadaver.

5:37.

She tore her scrub from her body in the locker room. Gulps of air jagged inside of her throat, jumbled broken glass from a car crash. She still felt the heartbeat of the woman pulsing on her skin, the breaking of ribs as she pressed her hands to bring back.

To pump blood to the brain.

Crack.

Crack.

Two broken ribs.

Maybe she was broken.

'You don't belong here,' a voice hissed, sweet venom, and she held her head in her hands, ventilating. If not here, where? Where did she belong?

Squared shoulders, was it? Straight back or bent, curled ball of pain? Chin up. What was up? God?

Sakura slammed her locker shut. She kicked toward it, choking on burning tears. Her mind raced through what the procedures, ashen skin turning blue from lack of oxygen.

She closed her eyes.

Where did she go wrong?

-X-

"You're home," Gaara said flatly from the kitchen island, and glanced at his watch. "I was about to order food. What do you want?" He flipped the menu on the other side, his eyes scanning across the other items. "Shrimp?"

She emerged from the entrance silently, her eyes unseeing.

"I'm getting ramen. Miso broth. Pick whatever you want," Gaara frowned, his eyes still running across the choices on the menu. "Hn. Pickled vegetables. Do you want some?"

"Don't talk to me right now," Sakura said and brushed by him.

The stairs didn't creak under her weight.

She was a ghost.

She floated.

She didn't belong.

Gaara watched her disappear, his brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to shout after her, but his phone rang. The name of his grandmother flashed on the screen. He glanced at the staircase one more time, before answering his phone, a low growl building in his chest.

"Obaasan, how are you?"

"Enough with the niceties and barely veiled annoyance."

Gaara grimaced at his grandmother's tone.

"Hn."

"Listen, is Sakura home?"

"Yes."

"Is she alright?"

Gaara cocked his head to the side, squinting at the menu in front of him.

"Hn."

Chiyo sighed.

"You take care of her, Gaara. Is that clear? The first one is always the hardest."

"The first what?"

"First death," Chiyo said irritably. "My first was during the war."

Gaara shifted uneasily. He switched his phone to his other ear. He wondered if she was thinking about them too, the scars on his back, his father's blame for his mother's death. He tapped on finger on the counter, filling the silence.

"Hn."

"It was with your grandfather!"

"What?" Gaara snapped.

Chiyo cackled.

She laughed the same way she did when they went to live with her. She pulled pranks on them. Temari would frown. Gaara wouldn't move. Kankuro... Kankuro was the only one who would laugh.

"We were surrounded by death. No big deal," Chiyo said merrily. "Next time answer your phone properly, or I have other stories..."

"Goodnight, obaasan," Gaara said.

His throat, his chest were tight.

"But I'm not done!" She shouted in a high-pitched voice, and Gaara winced.

"Yes?"

She cleared her throat.

"Yes, obaasan?" he repeated, his jaw clenched.

"Give Sakura a hug, you hear?"

"Yes, obaasan."

"Then give me great-grandchildren," she ordered.

"I-I..."

She laughed hysterically.

"Send me a photo of your face right now!"

"No," he said gruffly.

"Good night, boy!"

"Goodnight, obaasan," Gaara replied dutifully.

When he hung up, his grandmother was still laughing.

Nonchalantly, he let his phone slid down on the counter.

Everything would be different if he had laughed like Kankuro back. Despite the scars, monster spelled across his back. Despite the constant nagging fear that somehow his father would come back.

Gaara turned back toward the staircase, the sound of running water akin to rain dripping on the windows. He was troubled, his body stiffened, and always the sound of his grandmother's laughter barely muffling the sound of death and whipped belt.

Gaara pressed his phone to his ear again, and his finger hovered around Temari's name. Then, scrolled down to Kankuro's phone. He shook his head. They never discussed their father.

He dialled the number of the restaurant.

He glanced at his watch, its ticks offering him a structure that didn't bend with impromptu violence. He ordered food for the two of them, but his dull voice had an edge.

While Gaara waited, he paced in the living room. The sound of water still rustled upstairs. He ran a hand through his hair. He tapped his forehead. Love. He would love no one but himself he had vowed then. He lowered his hands on his hips.

The water still rushed.

After 30 minutes, the food was delivered by a scrawny teenager with widened eyes. He held back his hand with the extra bills in them.

"That much tip? O-san, are you sure?"

"Hn."

Gaara closed the door without answering, and brought the food back to the kitchen. He looked up again at the staircase, the water padding constantly on tiles, a loaded muted sound.

He looked at his watch.

It had been over 43 minutes.

He dashed up the stairs.

He hesitated in front of the bathroom door, his palms moist. He knocked weakly, once.

"Sakura..." Gaara winced at the sound of his voice. "Obaasan called... Can you come out? There's also food."

She didn't answer.

"You need to help me," he muttered dry-mouthed. "I don't know what to do..."

"I can't right now," she whispered.

"You need to tell what's the right thing to do right now," he insisted, his eyes wildly drifting across the hallway, toward their studies, their bedroom. "You're upset. I ordered ice cream... and ramen. Some tempura shrimps..."

The water stopped, and relief flooded through him.

She opened the door, her face drawn. Her wet clothes stuck to her skin, her face blotched, with darkened heavy pink locks irritating the back of her neck.

"I'm fine," she said, her lips barely moving.

"You look horrible."

Sakura made a movement back into the bathroom, but he grabbed her arm. He pulled her to him, one hand on the back of her head, the other still on her arm.

"What are you-" she shouted her voice muffled by his shirt.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Gaara grunted.

Sakura breathed heavily against him, her heart beating violently against his ribcage. Hesitantly, he pressed his cheek to the side of her head. It felt wrong, his too long limbs flailing helplessly around her, her too small frame wetly slipping through him.

Gaara shivered against her, cold, water dripping on the floor.

"I really don't know... what I'm doing," he repeated and his lips brushed against her pink locks.

He released her arm, his arm moving to circle her waist instead.

Her nails dug into him.

'Was that better,' he meant to ask. 'Do we fit now?'

She shuddered.

She exploded.

She cried noisily.

She beat at his chest, and he winced, absorbing the impact. Absorbing her. His arms tightened around her. Now, they fitted; raw angles, and muffled screams. He closed his eyes, fingers holding her skull in place.

When she calmed down, Sakura gently pushed back against his chest. He let her, watching her face, tentatively letting his arms slide to her waist. She looked at his wrinkled and moist shirt.

"Take it off," she muttered tiredly. "I'll wash it with my scrub."

"Don't worry about it," he said and stepped away from her completely letting her go.

"Are you shy right now?" Sakura laughed nervously, and she wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I've just made a complete fool of myself... I've seen a man's chest before, just give me the shirt."

Gaara avoided her stare, he avoided her touch. His sharp features faded into blur lines, absent, distracted tics that reshaped his mouth.

"The food is getting cold," he replied uneasily, and he glanced down at his wet shirt.

"I'm not sure I can eat..." she frowned, and rubbed at her eyelids, pinched the bridge of her noise, until her face felt once more like her own. "You really should let me wash-"

"Let's just eat," he said stiffly and he turned away from her, going down the stairs without a glance back.

Sakura watched the back of his head, petrified, one arm over her chest.

They moved like a pendulum, in and out of reach, little and big hands chasing one another, but only meeting at certain time.

She felt the loss of him, cruelly, her skin still buzzing with his warmth.

She snapped out of it. Out of him, her nails digging into her arms. They didn't even like each other.

"You're always so bossy," she shouted after him.

Gaara snorted.

"You're also bossy," he muttered under his breath.

She followed him, rolling her eyes, her steps heavier, outgrowing the shell, the ghost. Death and its icy fingers.

Squared shoulders, straight back, chin up, she joined him.

-X-

On Saturday, Sakura arrived too early at the restaurant.

Temari briskly dropped her purse on the seat next to her. She inclined her head, as if greeting her, but her smile bit, her eyes sharp with disdain. Sakura bowed her head, her lips pinched and she reached for her glass of water to occupy herself.

"Do you want to be part of this family?" Temari asked softly, and she laced her fingers together on the table, as she leaned back against the chair.

"I am part of this family," Sakura gritted her teeth.

Her gaze flickered across the tables and the entrance looking for Gaara or Shikamaru. She always arrived too early.

"We both know that's not true," Temari smiled, hollow, her lips barely curling, frozen in place.

"What do you want from me?"

Temari sighed and looked away from her. She waved at the waiter and he hurried bringing her the menu.

"Coffee. Bring me rose water too," Temari ordered and she glanced briefly at Sakura. "What about you?"

"I'll have the same," Sakura said coldly, and they glared back at each other.

Once the waiter had gone, Temari inclined her head again as if deep in thought.

"Make him change his mind about the company he's bought before he ruins everything he's built."

"What?" Sakura startled.

"The company he bought..." Temari said slowly as she would to a child. "It's near bankruptcy. Gaara wants to release a new product to save it, but it's still a suicide mission. Convince him to let it go."

Before she could answer, Gaara appeared, and the coffee arrived. Petrified, Sakura watched the waiter poured her coffee from a traditional pot of silver and brass. 'She had planned the perfect moment,' Sakura understood.

Maybe they were two misfits, Gaara and her, she wondered silently watching him.

They were played.

They were forced into place, dolls that needed to conform.

And they had nothing to fill their house.

-X-

After brunch, Sakura and Gaara walked back to his car in silence. The sun scorched the sidewalk, chasing them in reflective windows. Sweat gathered at her temples, but Gaara appeared unfazed by the heat in his suit.

When they reached the car, Sakura turned to him, biting her lip.

"Why do you hate him?"

"Who?" Gaara asked and he unlocked the doors.

"Shikamaru-san," she said and his shoulders tensed.

His palm lightly hit the top of the car, his eyes gleaming, and his face shifted, carved out of shadows. Stubbornly, he stared at her, his lips set in a grim line.

"You like Kiba and he's with one of your siblings' boyfriend too," Sakura added.

"I tolerate Kiba," Gaara said darkly, "because he's not a selfish prick who demands sacrifices from Kankuro."

"It bothers you that she's moving," Sakura said softly.

He nodded stiffly.

"Her place is here with her family, not with his."

"They are each other's family too."

"Blood is thicker than water," Gaara barked. "He's replaceable. We're not."

"Gaara…"

"Let's go," he ordered and he tapped the top of the car with more force.

He opened his car door.

"I liked him," Sakura said, and she didn't move. It was their first real conversation since they got married. She couldn't, she wouldn't let it go. She balled her fists, straighten her back, her gaze frank and unflinching when it found his pale icy one.

"I thought he was smart," she thrusted her chin forward, her jaw locked.

"My sister is smarter than him," Gaara said gruffly.

"Then, you should trust she knows what she's doing," Sakura said patiently.

"I do, but I don't have to like him until she comes to her senses."

"I think she thinks the same as you but about me. She's probably thinking: He'll come to his senses and divorce her."

Sakura bit her below lip. He shifted uneasily, glancing at his watch, even if he didn't work on Saturdays, and he had no schedule to excuse himself.

"She was our mother and our sister at once. Don't mind her. She's overprotective."

"You all are overprotective of each other," Sakura shrugged, and glanced away, holding back her locks from her face as the wind blew sharply.

"They are your siblings too now."

She smiled, crookedly, coldly.

"Don't fake smile at me."

Her smile dropped, disregarded easily.

She balled her fists on her hips, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Then, don't be cheesy," Sakura snapped and pointed at the passenger door. "Your sister says the driver opens that door."

"I'm driving," Gaara frowned. "There's no driver."

"You understood me perfectly."

Sighing, Gaara circled the car and reached past her to open the door. He moved closer to her, and she felt the heat of him, the weight of his stare devouring her flushed face. She gulped. He leaned in, so their faces were on the same level.

"There are times, Sakura... There really are times..." Gaara shook his head, and stepped back. "I wish you'd like me."

Stunned, Sakura remained by the passenger's door. She grazed her burning cheek, clearing her throat, as he slammed the driver's door.

He started the car.

"Are you getting in?" Gaara asked flatly, leaning toward the passenger's seat to look at her.

Sakura nodded rapidly, agitatedly, and climbed up next to him.

***

PART 8

"You did something very unusual by buying this company, Gaara-sama... Rival business groups such as Uchiha Inc has called your move quote unquote: "demented." How do you answer to these comments?"

The camera zoomed in on Gaara's face.

"I would rather be demented than a monster for letting them die."

-X-

The interview had gutted Gaara.

The red light of the camera followed him, blinking behind his eyelids. The same questions had rotated toward him, phrased differently, aimed to make him lose face, say something he shouldn't. It didn't matter that he had a business plan. His actions were still perceived as weak; companies near bankruptcy shouldn't be bought out and saved.

He had only wanted to save a family.

He wanted to be alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

Sakura breathed softly, half-asleep, when Gaara slipped in the room. He blinked, momentarily lost. The bedroom was full of her, the rhythm of her breathing, her floral scent clinging to him.  

Gaara sank in the darkness of the bedroom, feeling blindly for the bed. He flinched, his fingers slowly pulling at his collar. He passed his t-shirt over his head. Silently, he slid under the covers to lie down on the bed.

He closed his eyes, one arm over his forehead.

"Gaara?" Sakura mumbled, her head raising from her pillow.

"I had a long day. I don't want to fight," he said quietly.

The bed sheets taut over him, then briskly slipped and exposed his feet, as she rolled toward him.

"I watched your interview," she whispered.

Gaara turned his head toward her.

Her hair was softly tossed around her pillow, one lock curling beneath her chin. Her eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness, drifting across the solid shape of him next to her. Sakura bit her below lip, one of her arms holding the bed sheets over her chest.

She glanced away from him.

"Well, not all of it," Sakura laughed faintly, her fingers playing with the pillow case, "I was working, but I caught glimpses. You did well."

"Hn."

Sakura smiled and she turned her back to him.

"Good night," she whispered, and he looked up at the ceiling. The fan turned, soundlessly, the moving paddles hypnotizing as it brushed air toward them.

"'Night," he answered absent-mindedly.

Sakura pursued her lips.

Gaara didn't move.

He projected an uneven shadow on the wall she faced, swallowing her petite form. She shut her eyes tightly, uneasiness clawing at her insides.

She couldn't ignore him.

She roughly pushed back the bed sheets. He raised an eyebrow at her as she rolled back toward him.

"I don't want to fight."

"I know..."

Slowly, Sakura lowered her head to his chest. She could hear his heart pound. He tensed. She began to pull away, but his arm snaked around her, roughly holding her against his chest.

"Don't move, please"

"Okay."

"Okay," he echoed.

Gaara readjusted the bed sheets over them.

Sakura shifted her head, until it rested more comfortably against his chest. Tentatively, her arms circled him. She startled. He froze. Her fingers brushed again against the deep gash of uneven flesh.

"Don't ask, please."

"Okay."

"Okay," he echoed, and sighed, and his hand fell over her neck, grazing her nape, sinking into her soft hair.

He mirrored her touch. Halting, exploring, their heart beating restlessly, skin pressed against skin.

Sakura fell asleep after some time, her body leaning, sinking heavily across him.

He didn't sleep, terrified she would vanish. Terrified she would wake up and they would bicker again. And he would feel like she could never like nor love him.

She snuggled closer to him, her breath hot against his neck.

She was his wife, not a stranger, not a shapeless monster from his childhood – an uncle that feared him or a father that hated him – so why couldn't he sleep?

Why was he still afraid of the darkness?

-X-

The examination room whirred with the sound of the fan, the heat, the sun violently crushing her. Sakura wiped at her forehead, still frowning over the medical history of the patient. She was a blond plump woman, dressed in a suit that was taut around her frame. She played with her sunglasses, watching her with a vague smile.

"When did the pain start?" Sakura asked gently, and she dropped the file back on her desk.

She rubbed her hands with disinfecting gel before she walked to the patient with a reassuring smile.  

"Hmm... Two days again," the woman replied and she let Sakura feel for swelling below her jaw. "Are you married?"

"Yes. Are you? Is your husband in the waiting room? He can come in if you'd like," Sakura smiled and gestured for her to remove her suit jacket. "It would be easier for me to listen to your heart."

The woman unbuttoned her jacket slowly, shrugging it off.

Sakura pressed her stethoscope to her chest.

"Oh no, nothing like that..." she said vaguely, waving her hand. "Would your husband have accompanied you?"

"Breathe deeply, please," Sakura instructed.

She tried to listen to the heart pumping, its valves opening and closing, but the woman spoke again.

"Husbands are all the same, aren't they?" the woman insisted, her little eyes burning with curiosity.

Sakura's eyebrow twitched. She put the stethoscope back around her neck.

"You've syphilis," Sakura said, her face unreadable.

Roughly, she pressed the soap dispenser and washed her hands.

"What?" the woman blinked rapidly.

Sakura glared at her.

"Only someone with a rotten brain would take up one slot in the ER for their own personal gain. You're a journalist, aren't you?"

"I-I don't know what-" the woman stammered.

"Get out of my examination room!" Sakura bellowed, and pointed at the door.

-X-

At the end of her shift, Sakura didn't return home.

She went to his office, driving recklessly, her hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel. She mumbled angrily to herself.

She boiled, her mouth spasming with insults.

She expanded, anger and resentment shaking her to her core.

She was tired of being Sabaku Gaara's wife.

Sakura barged in the building of Sabaku Group, the revolving doors still spinning behind her.

She wrinkled her nose at the marble floors, the long banners with the company's logo handing down the high ceiling. 'Such a cliché,' she thought.

Sakura pushed through the security barrier without a glance back at the whirling sirens and shouting guards. She pressed the button to call an elevator.

"Ma'am! You need a badge."

"All of you shut up!" Sakura shouted, her temper rising, and they stopped mid-track. They only vaguely recognized her, but they obeyed the imperious icy tone.

The elevator pinged, and Sakura stepped inside.

One of the security guards held up the doors.

Sakura sneered at him.

"I'm going to see my husband, and I'm really good with a scalpel, so I suggest you remove your hand from that elevator door."

"Who's your husband, maybe we can call him down, so you can..." he gulped. "...talk through your martial problems outside."

"It's Sabaku Gaara, and I was disturbed at work, so now I'm disturbing him at work. Got a problem with that?"

She glared at them.

"Huh... I-"

"Remove. Your. Hand."

They bowed, uneasily, and she saw one of them reached for talkie-walkie, his mouth agape, the colours draining from his face.

She reached the top floor, and Gaara's assistant scurried to her feet. She bowed deeply, crumbs of cookies still attached to her lips.

"Sakura-sama! I didn't- We didn't-" Matsuri jogged next to Sakura matching her speed. Quickly, she wiped her mouth. "I mean, no one is expecting you, but you can wait in the waiting room until Gaara-sama is done with his meeting? Would you like sparkling water?" she babbled.

"He's in there?" Sakura jerked her thumb toward high burgundy doors crisscrossed with brass bamboos.

"Yes, but you can't-" Matsuri yelped.

Sakura hurled the doors open.

The sound echoed gravely against the walls, the doors vibrating with the strength of her push.

Gaara glanced up, then back at his document. He cocked his head to the side, glanced back up at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, am I disturbing you in your work?" Sakura shouted.

The directors stared at her, frozen in their seats, their mouth agape.

"In fact, yes," Gaara frowned.

"I had a patient today, who was just a journalist!" She screeched, and she pointed her finger at him. "'How's your husband?'" she mocked in a shrill. "This is the ER, not a fucking talk show! You tell those vultures not to disturb me at work, is that clear?"

"Hn."

"Don't 'hn' me," Sakura shouted louder, her voice booming across the high ceiling of the room.

Gaara stretched his neck, his eyes half-shut.

"What was her name?"

Sakura slammed a newspaper on the conference table.

"She's the one writing this garbage."

Gaara looked at the wrinkled newspaper' pages scattered around the spot where she had thrown them.

"I'll take care of it."

"Yes, you will," she snapped, her cheeks turning red.

Sakura spun on her heels and headed out of the room. Savagely, she slammed the doors back shut.

Squared shoulders. Straight back. Chin up.

She winced and glanced sideways at Matsuri. The girl still had her hands pressed to her mouth.

"Did I imagine that?" Sakura murmured.

Quickly, Matsuri shook her mousy head, the corner of her widened frightened eyes filled with tears.

-X-

Sakura pinched her lips when she heard the front door open.

She cut the boy chow more finely, the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filling the silence. Squared shoulders. Straight back. Chin up. Squared shoulders. Straight back. Chin up. Squared shoulders. Straight back. Chin up! She recited continuously in her head.

She didn't look up, her body tensing with his looming presence.

It lurked, this thing, this darkness, she didn't understand about her husband. She didn't want to flinch. She didn't want to be petrified. He had never given her any reason to fear him, so why did she flinch away from him?

"I called the newspaper," Gaara said and he loosened the tie around his neck.

Sakura cleared her throat, and pinched her lips.

"Good," she said with feigned disinterest.

His presence as invasive, crushing, Gaara leaned on the kitchen island next to her. He watched her work, his head cocked to the side. Her movements were stiff, but faltering under his stare, her knife sliding in the vegetable easily, expertly. He smirked.

"They want an interview."

The knife cut harder, now embedded in the cutting board.

Her jaw twitched.

"Tell them to go to hell," Sakura gritted her teeth.

"I did," he said quietly, and gripped the knife out of her hands.

"You did?" Sakura said in surprise and she let him move the cutting board away from her.

Gaara nodded.

"I told them you know your way with a scalpel," he said, and amusement glinted in his stiff smile, his cold eyes. "What you told my security guards."

"Oh," Sakura's cheeks burnt.

She scratched her arm.

He caught her hand.

She startled.

"Am I still invited to bed?" Gaara whispered against her palm.

Sakura bristled, watching his mouth moulded to her palm, advancing slowly to her wrist.

"You can't ask that! Not that way!" Sakura stammered, dry-mouthed, but she didn't stop him.

Gaara shrugged, glancing up at her. He held onto her hand, slowly spinning her wedding ring. He stopped. Smirking, he pressed her palm to his cheek.

"Can I bed you? Is that better?" he said and she tensed, his mouth tickled the thin skin of her wrist.

"Gaara!" she exclaimed, and whipped her hand out.

"I like how bossy you are," he mused aloud, and he brushed her hair out of her face.

She patted his hand away.

"That's not a reason!"

Shakily, Sakura reached for the cupboard, but he pushed it farther away, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Give me a reason then..." Gaara ordered.

"I don't know," she frowned, staring harder at the cutting board.

"Hn."

Sakura touched her forehead, thinking of his tattoo. 'Tell me I belong here. Tell me we aren't just two misfits finding each other because there's no one else for us.'

"You could at least say I'm pretty," she said weakly.

"You're very pretty," he replied.

"You're thinking about adding 'when I'm angry', aren't you? 'I'm pretty when I'm angry'."

"No," Gaara frowned. "Kankuro warned me against saying that when I was 17."

Sakura forced a smile.

"It's not enough," she muttered.

He grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What else do you want to hear?"

"What did your brother tell you about that?"

"Not to mention him."

"Yes, that sounds about right," Sakura pursued her lips, her fingers edging for the cutting board. "Now, let me-"

"No, I want to talk about this."

"Gaara!" she snapped impatiently.

"Honey, please," Gaara muttered against her ear.

Her heart hammering her bones, she tilted her head back, watching him.  

"What the hell..." Sakura threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her.

She kissed him with force before he could say anything. Gaara stepped back, but he caught her savagely, selfishly, his hold too tight. Her hand moved across his face, light fingers calloused with her practice. She barely moved, her heart pounding in her ears, focused on the pressure of his lips moving against hers. Lack of oxygen. The scent of his after-shave.

She detached herself from him but he gripped her arms, his arm enclosing her.

"You're so so bossy with your little notes," she shoved him away from her, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

She panted, trembling.

He stared at her lips, an eyebrow raised.

"Do you want me to stop?" Gaara whispered.

Sakura panted.

"No. Yes. Maybe."

"Which is it?" he asked, closer to her.

She gripped his shirt, pulling him back toward her, and he crashed against her, lips and body. He sucked on her below lip. His hands firmly massaged her hips. She gasped, then moaned. She felt his teeth against her lip, her hands curling into shuddering fists around his shirt.

He released her lips with a wet sucking sound.

Lightly, she pressed her nails to his cheek, her heaving chest brushing against his. He lightly bit on her fingers.

"Your goddamn pink pen... I want to throw it out," Gaara growled releasing her fingers.

He ran his hands up her back to press her harder against him.

Stubbornly, Sakura turned her face and he kissed her neck, grunting deep in his throat. His hungry lips nibbling, sucking.

"You're not ever throwing out my stuff out again," she sharply pulled at his tie. Silk cascaded between her fingers on the floor, and she shuddered at his lips parting over her neck.

He gently sucked on the crook of her neck.

Her heart exploded in her ears, her eyes drifting shut.

"The kitchen is such a mess," Gaara mumbled and trailed kissed along her jaw, his gaze drifting across the counter. "What are you even doing? Cooking for 12?"

Sakura moved her head to capture his lips again. She opened her mouth, shuddering, when he grabbed her butt. They froze. They shifted their positing, readjusting, pulling at and pushing against each other. They wanted to fit against each other. Their tongues pressed against one another, swirling roughly. He pressed a hand to her throat, his fingers sinking slowly into her hair.

She beat her palms against his chest.

He released her.

She tore her lips from his.

"Have you seen your hair?" Sakura snapped, and he growled in response, his eyes sparkling, wide. "It's the biggest mess here."

His heavy gaze followed her hands as she reached for him. Her stare never left his face.

Sharply, she pulled his shirt out of his pants.

"Don't call me honey," Sakura said, wetting her sore, plucked lips. "I call you that."

-X-

"Damn, that sounds hot," Tenten whistled on the screen, and scratched her arm.

"It was just kiss and stuff," Sakura shrugged, embarrassed, and her hand covered her mouth.

She was sitting crossed-leg on her bed in front of her laptop propped up on pillows. She hesitated. She wanted to tell them about the gashes on his back, the same letters traced and retraced so many times, he carried the word as muscle memory, as the marrow of his being. Monster.

She had frozen, her palms laid flat across his back.

Her husband was a marked man.

Her husband was a monster.

'Don't ask please.'

Sakura snapped back to reality when Ino waved her head vehemently, her pink lips pursued.

"OK, but what about the other kiss? Do you know who it was?" Ino asked hotly, frowning, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Who?" Sakura blinked rapidly, and she dropped her hand.

"That woman who kissed your husband."

Sakura grew rigid, petrified. She hadn't thought about her since her first night.

"Oof, don't try to find out," Tenten said and shook her head. "Box of worm, that is. It looks like she's got more chest than you and we know how self-conscious you are about boobies."

"Shut up!" Sakura bristled.

"Naw, she should find out. At least, to know if she can take her," Ino raised an eyebrow at her. "You should totally demand to know who that was."

"He said she was a dancer," Sakura muttered.

There were times Ino pushed her too much. She was too overprotective. Too short-tempered. And Sakura could barely keep up with her. And when she would look back, Ino would have fought all Sakura's battles on her own.

"Then, she's definitely got bigger boobs than you," Tenten shrugged and reached behind her to grab an apple. "And ones that won't sag." She bit in her apple noisily, humming to herself.

"What's the story though? Why did he kiss her? Are you sure this is a dancer? She isn't dressed like one..." Ino demanded in a rapid succession, wrinkling her nose at the noise Tenten was making. "Stop that!"

Sakura looked up, she saw them looking away. She had never thought of that. She wasn't dressed as a dancer, and dancers didn't kiss clients on the street.

Their conversation fizzled out, uneasiness creeping behind every word. Tenten's grey eyes silently followed her, and Ino filled every gaping hole of their conversation with high-pitched outcries about outfits and her co-workers.

Sakura chewed on her below lip after they disconnected from the video-chat.

She resisted the urge to pull up the picture of Gaara kissing the mystery woman on her computer. She shut her lap top, and dropped back on the bed, her arms spread across the pillows. She stared at the fan lazily turning above the bed, frowning.

The warm air on her air, shuffling her hair, she wondered if that was why she was so terrified of Gaara. He hid one part of himself.

'Don't ask please,' he had begged, his forehead in the crook of her neck, his breath shallow.

But she wanted to know.

She needed to know.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Forty Six

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

March 18th, 2019

Dee looked at everyone in the room in the courthouse with confusion. They were smiling and laughing and chatting like they had done this a million times before. They hadn’t done it a million times, but they had done it three, so maybe they were just that familiar with each other.

Whatever the reason, he was uncomfortable being slightly dressed up and just standing around in court doing nothing. He clung to Remy’s leg like his life depended on it, and when they finally started talking about signing papers, Dee felt relief flood through him. Even if this meant he couldn’t go back to Mama, he wouldn’t be stuck in this courthouse forever.

And anyway, if Mama left him, didn’t that mean that this new family taking him in was a good thing?

March 18th, 2020

Dee was happy enough that he was jumping up and down and flapping his hands like mad. He was wearing his adult villain gloves, because he had outgrown his old ones but Dad got him these so that he didn’t have to go without villain gloves at all. These he just had to grow into.

They were at his favorite pizza place, the one that knew his particular preferences for pizza and didn’t give him or his family weird looks when they ordered a white pizza with extra cheese and sausage. It was the anniversary of his adoption, and while he had gotten a mini-party two weeks before with his family for his seventh birthday, Lucy wasn’t able to come and have dinner with them like he had hoped. But today, Dad and Ami had talked with Lucy’s moms, and they all had agreed that they would meet here, as a belated birthday celebration in addition to his adoption anniversary.

As soon as they walked through the door, Lucy exclaimed, “Dee!” and ran over to hug him.

He hugged back, tight, before taking off his gloves and shoving them in his coat pockets so he could sign. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Well, of course!” Lucy signed back. “I was super sad I couldn’t do it on your birthday, but this is almost as good!”

Dee grinned and flapped his hands before signing, “It’s better! Because this is the reason why I know you in the first place!”

Lucy frowned. “What do you mean?” she signed.

“Well, if I hadn’t been adopted by Dad and Ami, I wouldn’t be going to school with you!” Dee explained.

“Oh!” Lucy said out loud. “Yeah, I’m really glad you got to be adopted, then!”

Dee nodded. He was really glad too, and he didn’t want to think about where he would be if he weren’t with Dad and Ami. It definitely was not a pleasant thought. Would Mama have stopped taking pills? Would he have had to talk to way more police people? Would he have been taken away anyway, only this time he wouldn’t have been with Dad and Ami? He didn’t know, and that really scared him. Hence why he didn’t think about it often, if at all.

Lucy tapped his arm and Dee looked up at her from where he found himself staring at the floor. “You okay?” she signed.

Dee smiled softly. “Yeah. Just started thinking about not nice things.”

“Oh,” Lucy said, nodding her understanding. “Yeah, that’s no fun,” she agreed. “Do you want to find a table with my moms and your family?”

“Yeah,” Dee agreed, and the two immediately looked for a table that could house the ten of them.

When they found a likely candidate, everyone sat down and, because the customers were allowed to seat themselves, a waitress came right over with a bright smile. “Hello there! How can I help you tonight?”

“Hi, we’re going to be ordering...” Ami trailed off, before signing at Lucy’s moms. At their response he said, “We’ll be ordering three pizzas. Two large ones, regular sauce, pepperoni on one half and veggie lover’s on the other, the second one plain cheese on one half and green peppers and black olives on the other, and then a small, white sauce, extra cheese and sausage.”

The waitress laughed. “Oh, you must be the Picani’s! The manager talks about you a lot. Usually to say why you should never judge someone for their pizza order, because you come here often and tip well because no one else takes the order seriously.”

“That’s us,” Ami said cheerfully. “We’re here with a school friend of the youngest. He’s very excited about it.”

Dee noticed that one of Lucy’s moms was translating what Ami was saying for the other. When the waitress left, the conversation moved solely into the sign language territory. Mostly introductions, explaining who was who to one another. Lucy’s mom who was Deaf, who was wearing a denim jacket tonight, smiled and signed, “Your ASL is amazing for only knowing it one year.”

Logan signed back, “Well, Dad and I have had more practice than one year, but my teacher has said that my signing improved greatly since Dee joined the family. Full-immersion does wonders in learning a new language. And since Dee only would speak when he knew we wouldn’t know the sign and no one was around to translate, it really was like full-immersion.”

Lucy signed, “That’s really cool! I didn’t realize most of you didn’t know sign before! You’re naturals!”

“Not really,” Roman signed with a laugh. “My sign was terrible for the longest time. I constantly had to ask Dee to slow down, and I still do when he fingerspells. But I’ve been getting better.”

Ami lightly waved his hand and signed, “Before the food comes, we have a gift for Dee to celebrate his adoption.”

Dee was surprised, thought he didn’t know why. He had gotten presents on his birthday, both from the family and from Lucy. But he forgot that he might get a gift on his adoption.

Dad passed over a small bag to Dee and Dee took it gingerly. He sifted through the paper and found a pair of earbuds, which he played with for a few seconds before sifting through the paper more at Ami’s encouragement. He pulled out a small-ish rectangular device that sort of reminded him of a phone, except it had a circle where the keys would be, and the screen was small. “What is it?” he signed.

Ami and Dad both laughed, and Lucy’s moms were cracking a smile. “I never thought I would see the day,” Ami signed. “It’s called an iPod. It stores music and podcasts and stuff so you can play it whenever you like.”

Dee blinked a few times, before putting the earbuds into the iPod and then his own ears. “What do I do to start the music?” he asked.

“You see the symbols of the sideways triangle and the two little lines? Press that,” Dad signed.

Dee did so and his eyes widened as he recognized one of the songs that Logan liked to listen to, one of the few that he was allowed to play without headphones around Dee, and the one that was Dee’s absolute favorite of Logan’s songs. He took out one of the earbuds, surprised that he couldn’t hear the music in that ear anymore, before putting it back in. He grinned. “Cool!” he signed.

“Ami and I found that in the basement in one of the moving boxes, and we cleared out what little music was still on it before downloading songs we knew you liked,” Dad signed. “We figured it could help some in crowds. It’s not the same as noise-cancelling headphones, but it still will give you something to focus on.”

Dee grinned wide and signed “Thank you” over and over again. Then, “Can I keep them in while we eat?”

“Well, yeah, if you want,” Ami signed. “We’re all going to be signing anyway, so you won’t be missing out on any of the conversation.”

Dee flapped his hands excitedly and slid the iPod into his pocket. Lucy was grinning at him. “That looks like it was a really good gift!” she signed.

“It is!” Dee exclaimed. “And on my birthday Dad and Ami found a weighted blanket in my size! They know all of my sensory problems and they help with them, instead of telling me that I need to get over them, like some of the mean kids at school do!”

“That’s great!” Lucy signed. “I’m really happy for you!”

Dee nodded. “They also help Logan when he has similar problems.”

“What?” Logan signed. “I don’t have those sorts of problems, do I?”

“You don’t buy certain shirts or pants because they ‘feel wrong,’ you can’t stand certain music because ‘the lyrics don’t sound right,’ you can’t touch chalkboards with any part of exposed skin, nevermind fingernails, without squeezing your hands repeatedly until you can run your fingers under water or on something that ‘feels better,’” Dad supplied. “You do all of this without realizing it, but yeah, Logan, you have sensory issues.”

Logan looked momentarily stunned. “Oh,” he said, out loud. “I didn’t realize...” he started to sign, but his hands drifted down as his thought process trailed off. “I don’t know.”

The pizza came while Logan was still brooding over this fact, and the conversation moved to lighter topics. Lucy and Dee talked a lot about school when they weren’t eating their slices of pizza, Roman talked about how the school play was coming up in April and how he had most of his lines down but the blocking kept tripping him up, and Patton and Virgil talked a lot about the books they were reading. Virgil adored Animorphs and Patton was still enjoying The Magic Tree House whenever he could.

Eventually, Logan joined in on the conversation again, when Lucy’s moms asked Logan and Dad where they had learned to sign. They signed an hour-long conversation, and when all of the pizza was eaten and their drinks gone, Dee was starting to yawn as one of Virgil’s slow songs came on the iPod, acting like a lullaby. “We should probably head out,” Dad signed. “I think Dee’s a little too tired for dessert.”

“I’m not tired,” Dee protested, before yawning again.

“You’d fall asleep face-first into whatever dessert you had,” Roman signed with a grin.

Dee whined in protest but didn’t do anything else outside rub his eyes. He was tired, and it had to be getting close to eight, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go home and get ready for bed.

“We should be going, too,” Lucy’s other mom, the one who was wearing bright pink lipstick, signed. “Lucy will need to go to bed soon. It is a school night, after all.”

Lucy tilted her head back and groaned, before hugging Dee. When she pulled apart, she signed, “I had fun tonight.”

“Same,” Dee signed.

“Oh, and do you like the book Mom found for you? There aren’t a lot of kid’s books out there with characters who are mute, so I hope just finding one who was autistic is okay...”

Dee smiled. “I love it a lot, Lucy. It’s nice to read, especially when the bullies give me a hard time.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Lucy signed.

Everyone stood, and after Dad and Ami left two twenties on the table, they all walked outside and went their separate ways in the parking lot. Dee was a little sad, even though he knew that he would see Lucy tomorrow. He had sorta hoped that tonight would never end.

“Chin up, Dee,” Virgil said as they all got in the van. “You get to listen to your music a little while longer before you have to go to bed.”

“And you get to see your best friend tomorrow!” Patton chirped.

“Not to mention that just because tonight is over, doesn’t mean we’re not going to be here tomorrow,” Roman added.

“And while it might seem unfair to cut the night short, we really should get back home. If you want, we could read the book Lucy got you again before bed,” Logan offered.

Dee yawned again and nodded. That sounded really nice. Ami drove out of the parking lot and started the trip home, and as one song bled into the next in Dee’s ears, he leaned back and tried to let himself relax, just a little, just enough that maybe he could have an easier time sleeping tonight. After all, his family was here, and they would keep him safe and love him ‘til the end of time. He had been here a year and they hadn’t disappointed him yet.

Virgil gently grabbed Dee’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Dee looked over in confusion. “Just...you know that we’re not gonna leave you for anything, right?” Virgil asked. “The only thing that would make me not be able to talk to you anymore is if one of us died. And that’s not gonna happen for years and years.”

Dee nodded. “I know, Virgil. Thanks,” he signed.

“I love you,” Virgil murmured. “I want to make sure you know that, because I don’t say it often.”

“I know,” Dee signed again. “I love you too.”

After Virgil nodded and Dee started to relax again, he was asleep before they even hit the next red light.

[not-a-statement]

Chasing ghosts. Chapter 2

So for some reason I can’t edit my masterlist for this story. On of us - me or tumblr - is definitely a clumsy fool. 

Anyway, it’s been a long time but here I post again. This chapter introduces original characters and focuses on them exclusively.

Critics and opinions are always appreciated.

Baton Rouge,LA, January 23, 2035

The general office of the State Police Department was filled with sounds and people typical for Monday morning. Investigators, detectives, even a couple of court clerks were moving slowly between the work tables. Phones ringing, Maggie's coffee machine softly grumbling, detective Nate Parker rants about his little rendez vous with a couple of girls past weekend, which caused an occasional bursts of laughter from a small group of listeners. Someone’s complaining about son, who’s got yet another detention at school. That scallywag was caught smoking in the school closet during lunch break. “I mean, come on! What’s the school’s backyard is for? What’s wrong with these children?”

All this leaving no chances at all for detective Robert Brooks to focus on completing the report. Frankly, if there was anything consistent to write then probably no excuses could take place. The missing was found the week prior in the Pine Prairie area - one of the tourists called the police and said that near the shore of Lake Millers lied a body of a dead girl dressed in a white light dress. By the time detectives and the team of medical experts arrived, a decent crowd of onlookers gathered around the corpse, hence searching for traces at the crime scene wouldn’t be for big avail.

What else?

There’s no doubt that the victim was killed - even though the lungs were full of liquid and the fact that clothes and skin of the deceased were pretty much hinting that she’s spent plenty of time in the water, a rope trace was found on her neck. So, the drowning was staged.

By whom?

Well, here’s where interesting questions start.

No wonder why the crime scene was so crowded - case after case were quaking the whole country. People kept disappearing in a daylight - single men and women of different ages, usually without family and friends - those who wouldn’t be immediately claimed missing. Generally the search would last for about a week or two only to let detectives stand before such corpses (and it could’ve been worse, if one believed Nate the Chatter Box) or find victims alive but absolutely insane. Wearing rags, disoriented, and with no memory at all, no one even remembered their names.

People were frightened. And no one had even a small clue, even a hint, about this maniac’s whereabouts or appearance. His work was flawless - every time a new case appeared in press, this bastard’s already in another state. Probably.

At least everything looked like that  - no one had accurate information. And, which was a very bad thing to say, such cases were a nightmare for any detective - perfect addition to the record. There were adventurers, of course, who wanted to catch their own Zodiac, but most people were genuinely concerned about their careers.

And so it happened that careerist Brooks was not only brought to a partner of the adventurer Tam Bennett, and more so, he was appointed to investigate such a case.

Robert sighed, once again glancing over the printed report page on the computer screen.

Elizabeth Arthrisha Marlowe, born in 2019, blah blah blah ... Numerous abrasions on the arms in the forearm, blah blah ... The time of death was determined between 9 pm and midnight on January 17 of this year ... and more rubbish. Seriously, what else to write?

When he and Tam just started the investigation about two weeks prior Robert was saving hope that that time would be a fluke. Children and adolescents haven’t figured in such cases so far, and a sixteen-year-old girl could go to carouse with friends, or with some guy - anything. But the fact was bulletproof  - the corpse of Lake Millers was identified, parents were heartbroken, Captain Hernandez was constantly inspecting for progress on the case, and Bennett was obsessed with all sorts of theories. Or women.

Where is, by the way, that boy this time? Monday, ten in the morning! Wasn’t it Tam who kept calling me all Sunday while I tried to spend the day off with family, and reminded of all the chores to do on Monday? That’s not even funny.

Okay...This won’t work. Perhaps the morning coffee-tobacco ritual will help clear the thoughts? Yes, sounds good. A cup of Colombian black with cream, a spoon of cane Mexican sugar and a pinch of cinnamon in a compartment with a cigarette and fresh morning air. The first good idea for today, Brooks.

Robert got up from his desk stretched and headed for the dispatcher's counter. After receiving his equivalent of the Holy Grail from  Maggie, he passed the doors leading to the office, a corridor filled with civilians who were brought here or who came by their own will, then the hall and finally went into the parking lot in front of the department building. The weather was pleasing, here and there, however, small flocks of clouds were gathering, but the sun was shining warmly. The city, long awakened, performed a symphony of the weekday - passing pickup trucks and small cars, ordinary townspeople and important birds like lawyers and real estate agents scurrying around here and there. You could even hear a heavy truck driving in the distance.

Someday all this will be rewarded, Brooks thought, releasing cigarette smoke and slowly sipping from a mug with the inscription "Best Daddy in the World". Another five years, and I’ll be in higher position, and five more - and here comes the retirement. A small house in California somewhere in Palo Alto, a neat little garden for my Mary and a home winery for both of us. Our Aaron and Lucy would come over for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter ... imagine - a festive table with the family and you are sitting at the head of the table. What else can you dream about? Life will be like this cup of coffee - warm, reliable and with a very long aftertaste, if sipping small ...

“Aaaaaah!!!!”

Mother of…!!!

Brooks threw up his hands in surprise, spilling half the contents of the mug on the sidewalk. Thank God not on a work shirt.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack at thirty-seven?" he yelled into Bennett's laughing face, sticking out of the silver Volkswagen’s window. Tam's hand was still on the honk.

"Seriously," he panted through his laughter, "you would see your face, Bob! Standing there, caught up in a daydream, and then this - Aaaaah!”

He mocked Robert’s grimace of horror.

That laughing blond face was so tempting to throw the rest of coffee at it! First he’s late for work, and now he decided to mock me!

All right, calm down, Robert, calm down. It would be disrespectful on your part to respond to the pranks of this toddler overgrown.

"Not funny, Tam," he said, trying to sound dignified, "what took you so long, by the way?"

“Oh, oh, oh! " Tam started fidgeting in the seat, shaking his arms around him.

"Wait ... where was it ..."

He began to search for something, bending in all imaginable and unthinkable directions. The front passenger seat, glove compartment, pockets on the doors, even under his feet. As Tam reached there, his head fell on the steering wheel with a swing, causing one more honk.

"Just find a spot and park already" Brooks said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, pain in his voice. Seriously, not a partner, but a complete disappointment.

After Bennett parked his car in the far corner of the parking lot, and Brooks reached the porch of the building, finishing his coffee (great, the sugar at the bottom did not dissolve completely, and now the last sips are too sweet, splendid), they exchanged a handshake and went inside.

"I'm still waiting for the answer, young man" Robert said as strictly as he could as they crossed the hall.

"First, I'm not your son," replied Tam, smiling. "And second, I decided that I’d make you a surprise."

"What surprise for God’s sake? What are you up to again?”

"Don’t worry, Bobby, you'll like it! Very much!”

"Can you at least pretend sometimes that you're a professional?”  Robert didn’t like all those glances from people around, attracted by Tam's enthusiastic exclamations.

"Nah, I'm gorgeous just as I am" Bennett shrugged as they approached the door leading to the general office.

"Take the keys and wait for me at your car. Mine is... umm ... not in the purest condition today. I need to go to Sam, I'll be back in a moment”.

“Oh for love of...”

"Maggie! My doll!” - Bennett exclaimed, pressing his lips to the hand of the dispatcher, who immediately blushed and playfully giggled. The white blouse, she was wearing, obviously lacked buttons in certain places, which caused a lot of discomfort to Brooks. Bennett, apparently, didn’t mind this kind of view.

"How was the weekend, my sugar? Had many men kneeled?”

"I think you'd know better, detective," Maggie purred innocently  "or am I wrong?"

Really? In front of the whole office, these two would exchange so unconcealed expressions of passion and lust? Where’s the ethics committee when you need one?

"I'd love to know more ... dig a little deeper if you let me put it this way ..."

Wow! Okay, not listening to this! Gross and obnoxious!

"All in good time, detective. But next time you shouldn’t forget your promises about ... special equipment.”

The phone rang at the dispatcher's desk, putting an end to this vulgar scene much to Robert's relief. While Maggie, still crimson and still with a half-detached blouse, were answering the call, Tam winked at his partner and pronounced "handcuffs" with his lips, pointing his finger in the direction of that spicy’s lover. Just like a student at a dorm party.

"Don’t forget the keys!" he added, quickly moving away from the counter in the direction of Captain Hernandez office “I'll be in a sec!”

Brooks stayed where he stood, setting the mug on the counter. 

Here we go. Got nothing else to do but to stand here and wonder what this scoundrel has in mind. Every time. Every goddamn time. Easy to wound up with a half-turn, and everybody better run away within a radius of a couple of miles around. Cars soar into the air, tiles fly from the houses’ roofs, women in  panic, children crying. A real hurricane. Safe for the name - Tam, not Andrew.

"It's not even the first month that he works here. Sam lectures him constantly, I give instructions, and look at him. Always jumping ahead, as if his head’s made of stone and will demolish any wall”  Robert thought out loud “what's even going on in his brain? ..”

"Dunno much about the head, Bob," Maggie said in a caramel voice reappearing at the counter, dreamily slapping her eyelashes, "but trust me, what's going on in his pants ..."

"You know what, I already regret saying it out loud!" Jesus Christ, would this vulgarity scene come to an end already?!

Brooks got to his desk and sat down in the armchair. The plan for today, which could hardly be called consistent as it was, began to become completely insane. First the report, which he had nothing to write in, then spilled coffee, all sorts of bedtime insinuations - yes, Robert knew what sex was and where the children came from, he himself was a father, but that's too much - and now it's time to arm with a trowel and a little plastic bag to walk this boy. We ought to find a leash. Maggie probably would have one ...

No, no, that's a bad joke. Very bad.

Okay, probably the report can be a time killer, while Tam’s chatting with the captain. It’s not like time killers are always pleasing but what you gonna do, right?

At least there were some people who’d probably be happy with whatever Brooks wrote for a report of an adolescent girl’s horrifying murder. Newspaper editors.

It looked like they’re making it a competition to draw more attention to their source of information compared to competitors. "The Oregon maniac visits Louisiana." "Yet another reason to use the door chain." "Mysterious kids killer at large".

Blah blah blah. Scribblers.

Of course the case is serious and everybody mourns for the girl and prays for her parents to smother their misery, but is it really necessary to play with people's hearts like that? Add in the photo plastered on the front page - a police tape in the foreground and a bunch of people crowding behind it. Fresh stuff, just from the crime scene.

On Friday evening, when Brooks was about to leave home, anticipating a delicious chicken breast with Parmesan and eggplant for dinner, he found Nate and Tam in the interrogation room, staring intently at that exact photo from the newspaper. Enthusiasts. They say that the criminal always returns to the crime scene. So both decided to play bloodhounds. Also Robert could smell some booze in the room too, so...

On the other hand, if one took a sober look at things, then there wasn’t anything consistent either. No traces, no clues, even the smallest. Absolute zero. Robert had already suggested Hernandez to hand over the case to the special squad to take that burden of a case off his shoulders, but every time that question popped up Sam would just grin and pat Brooks on the shoulder.

"Bob, what are talking about? You have such an experience, such record! And what a chance to be a mentor to the young one!"

Sounds easier than it is...

“Surprise!” a folder fell sharply on the table in front of Brooks.

Oh my God…

“Cheer up, partner!" Tam said, plopping down in the armchair opposite to Brooks. "We have a case!"

"Um, I know," Robert raised an eyebrow, "and you always find an excuse to slick away"

"No, you don’t understand, Bobby." Bennett majestically placed his palm on the folder, touching it with his fingertips, and slowly moved it towards Brooks. "We have a case."

Robert, still looking suspiciously at the youngster, took the folder and opened it, going into reading. Photo, name, surname, lots and lots of text. With every line he read, the hope to at least somehow bring the present day to an acceptable level, was slipping away. It seemed that having a leash wasn’t a joking idea, but a very real necessity.

Brooks gave his partner a glance full of fatigue and disappointment.

“Well, am I good at making surprises or am I the best?” Bennett's brows creased conspiratorially.

"Please tell me this is a joke ..."

“Why?”

“Tam, I’m begging you.”

"What's wrong, Bob?"

Brooks heaved a deep sigh and began to read aloud.

“Mabel Jessica Pines, born in 1999, Piedmont, California. According to her landlords arrived on January 18 of this year from the city of New York. According to Smiths couple - owners of the apartment at 881 West Roosevelt Street Miss Pines rented - she came across as a modest, quiet woman, not particularly talkative and constantly thoughtful. Her interests were the surroundings, especially the University of Louisiana and Manchac swamps. Mr and Mrs. Smith also noted that she preferred not to answer questions about family and relatives. Only said that she was married, but got divorced a few years ago. Wasn’t seen participating in any phone calls. On the 20th of January she left the rented apartment and never came back. Was dressed in a gray coat and a long skirt, carrying a medium-sized travel bag and a mobile phone, which she stopped responding around 7 pm. Left a laptop and a notebook in the apartment”.

Brooks put down the folder and brought his hands to the bridge of his nose, resting his elbows on the countertop.

"Great, isn’t it?" exclaimed Tam. “Full set - you’ve got clues and description! All we need to do is restore her route, trace each her step, find her perso... What?”

Brooks, still holding his hands on the bridge of his nose, pointed to his partner with his finger, as if asking him to plug his fountain of enthusiasm.

"What's bothering, Bobby?"

Calm down, Robert, calm down. You are reasonable, smart man. You’ve had many of such conversations with your young son Aaron. It's the same, no differences.

"Bob, you're straining me."

Easy, easy. I'm straining him, you see. Well, well, let it be, a little bit of tension didn’t kill anyone so far. I'm still alive.

"Listen, you're breathing as if you've gone too far with pepper in the soup, Bobby.”

All right, that's enough.

Robert slowly raised his head, holding his hands together at the tip of his nose. He was breathing really deep and quite noisy.

"First," he began softly, clearing his throat, "call me Bobby one more time and you'll be riding in the back seat. And second, we have no new case. Foot down”.

Tam whistled.

“Hmm, mate, you're …”

"Let me ask you something" interrupted Robert, "when you accepted this case, which part of your organism was functioning as a thinking part?"

“What does it have to do with it? It's such an opportunity!”

“What opportunity? Tell me" Brooks asked, still keeping his coolness.

Tam looked at him with an expression of complete perplexity a second or two, then leaned forward and began:

“Listen. What’s the main problem we had with the Marlowe’s case?”

“The case itself.”

“I'm serious.”

“You don’t say! You know how to be serious?”

"Look, this isn’t funny” Tam frowned. "Our main problem was time which we’re lacking of. What did we initially know about the Marlowe girl? Almost nothing, neither where most likely she could go, nor her full circle of acquaintances. So no one expected that her loss could be just such a case.”

“What case?”

"Such a case" Bennett pointed to the folder, "clear as day."

Brooks raised his eyebrows.

"Give me at least a hint because I don’t really understand ..."

“There’s nothing to understand here. A lonely woman, from another city. Comes to nowhere and almost immediately disappears!” Bennett could barely restrain himself from being excited. "This is our Oregon maniac, I'm telling you."

Well, here you go.

When it comes to do paperwork, he has plan for the evening. And when it comes to burden me with additional stress, so he's first in line. It’s already becoming unbearable. How do I explain him?

"Ok, Tam," Robert said, restrainedly. "Here’s what we’ll do. You’ll take this muck to where you took it, wash your hands with soap and then we'll go to your piano tutor.”

Bennett made an uncomprehending face.

“Seriously. We are not taking this case and that’s final. We've had enough trouble with that Marlowe girl" Tam started to protest, but Brooks stopped him, lifting both his hands “No, I'm saying that’s enough. Get yourself a notebook, call it "My hasty conclusions that have nothing to do with reality" and write down all your speculation there.”

Robert got up from the table and began to pull on his jacket.

“Now you and I will get in the car, go for a coffee and do some work.”

With these words, Brooks took his car keys from the table, checked once more whether the token that hung on his belt of trousers was there and was ready to the exit the office when Bennett found something to say:

"So you'll go to Sam yourself?"

“For what?” Brooks froze half a turn, looking back at his partner.

Bennett just shrugged.

“Well, to tell him personally that you refuse to take the case, which he himself commissioned, for example?”

Sam did what?

“Come again.”

"The captain of the state police department assigns us a case, and you stand against the decision of your superiors." Bennett smiled ingenuously.  “Pretty brave of you, I must say.”

Oh no. No no no.

So it’s not Tam? Can this day get any worse?

Brooks sighed noisily and lowered his head, staring at his polished black boots. How many thresholds were overstepped by these guys, how many pursuits for criminals and capture operations they saw. How many times did Brooks polish them to shine, to look neat, while receiving a new title or listening a praise for a successfully disclosed case. How long have they gone and for what? In order to soon go to the dump together with the Robert’s career.

The vision of the house in California again appeared before him and immediately melted in a light haze. Nothing of the sort will happen if the captain continues to charge Robert with such hopeless cases and companions.

“So what?” Tam behind Brooks pointedly looked at his watch. “What did you say about coffee? Can we grab a cup for Sam? Well, you know, as a sign of respect and …”

"Come on ..." Robert muttered softly.

“Sorry, what?”

Brooks raised his eyes to the ceiling and repeated a little more distinctly:

“Come. On”

Bennett, grinning in a broad smile, instantly jumped from his seat, grabbed a folder from the table and flew past a still motionless partner, slapping him along the shoulder.

“That’s more like it!” he proclaimed joyfully. “New case, baby!”

Would you just shut up already an unfortunate thought flew through Robert's head as he sadly followed Tam out of the office.

***

“And she had very kind eyes. Hazel” Brooks looked into his notebook. Yes, this phrase has sounded for the third or fourth time for those half an hour from the time that detectives arrived to the landlords of the missing.

“Kind, but very sad eyes …”

"Yes, Mrs. Smith, I think I wrote it down," Robert said, holding out his hand to his cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him. Mr. Smith tumbled in the room noisily puffing, holding an ashtray in one hand while the second was already groping for his pocket.

“Anna really liked the girl” Mr. Smith perched in a chair next to his wife. The ashtray was placed on a table next to the cup of Brooks, and in the pocket finally found the coveted pack of cigarettes. A mischievous smile played on Mr. Smith's lips.

"Henry, for heaven's sake!" His wife threw up her hands. "How many times have I asked you not to smoke in the house! You know, my back does not welcome airing so often.”

"You can bear it once a week honey" Henry brought his lit-up match to a cigarette with trembling fingers then inhaled and immediately fell into a ruthless throaty cough.

Anna Smith shook her head worriedly, looking at her husband, and turned to the detective:

"I told him that forty years of smoking would make some consequences. Imagine - he wasn’t listening to me until he laid down on the surgery table! Who knew that you can get a tumor like that, right?”

"Benign," Henry finally cleared his throat, "it was benign, my dear. And the main thing I’m still in one piece. Head, hands, legs” he winked at the detective and folded his old mouth into a grin like a little mischievous schoolboy.

“And what’s betw…”

"When you, ahem ..." Robert hastily intervened to stop the phrase, which beginning wasn’t biding anything good "when you applied, you mentioned that Mabel reluctantly talked about herself. I believe that you’ve learned at least something about her?”

"Yes detective but very, very little." Mrs. Smith clasped her fingers and put them to her forehead, concentrating on something.

"She said she came from New York," her husband said, releasing a cloud of blue smoke, "god knows what called her to our backwoods ..."

"Oh shush, Henry." Mrs. Smith shook her finger in vexation. "I'm sure detective knows already where the girl came from."

“Can I clarify the question?” Brooks put the notebook aside on the table. “The bartender from the diner near the bus station mentioned that in a conversation with him Mabel said that she came in search for someone. Didn’t she tell you the same thing? Maybe mentioned who it was?”

"Ah, poor thing! Did she have to eat breakfast there?” Mrs. Smith shook her head in frustration. "If she came at once, I would feed her with a decent breakfast. What kind of muck could she be offered there?”

"They used to have good burgers," Henry shook the ashes, "at least five years ago, when I last had them ..."

“Nonsense! Burger for breakfast?”

“Ahem. Mrs. Smith …”

"Yes, sorry" Anna turned her attention to Brooks. "No, she didn’t say anything like that to us. She was married, that's all I know about her life. But her husband didn’t interest her very much, as far as I can tell. I did not see a ring as a lock, so he’s probably still alive. Maybe he was quite a scoundrel”

"And what’s her husband's name?"

Anna just shook her head.

"Forgive me, detective, but I never heard it from her."

From above came the sound of the door being opened, followed by hasty steps down the stairs. Found something a thought rushed through Robert's head. A moment later, Tam appeared in the room. His face was ... disappointed?

"Mrs. Smith, you wrote in a application that Mabel had a laptop and a notebook."

"That's right, young man, she left them in her room."

Brooks stared at his partner's face, puzzled. Tam only shook his head briefly.

"Is something wrong, gentlemen?"

"Have you left your house in the last couple of days?"

"Just to do shopping yesterday afternoon ... what happened?"

Brooks rose abruptly, and they both hastily rushed to the stairs to the second floor. Mabel's room was nothing particularly noteworthy - a bed, a desk, a window and four walls. Things were lying neatly, the bed was made. It seemed that the guest had left a minute ago.

“Checked the window sill?”

“Yes, it’s dusty as if no one touched it for several years”

“A lock on the door?”

“Just a latch, any fool would open without a trace ..”.

Brooks slowly walked to the table, on which was a layer of dust accumulated over the past few days. All the items seemed to be in their places, but two square spots were barely noticeable near the edge, in which dust seemed to sink.The distance between the spots was about 9 inches, as between the pads of a small laptop.

"I think we're done here" Robert muttered.

***

"So someone broke into the house at night, or when the hosts were not there," Robert and Tam were driving away from the Smiths' house toward the police department, "I think we both understand that it was our client."

“Here you go, drawing conclusions again!” Brooks briefly honked the driver who was still standing on the green traffic light signal.

"Maybe it's our client, or maybe just a burglar."

“Burglar who took only a laptop?”

"Did you have time to inspect the rest of the house? Found anything valuable?”

“No, but …”

“Exactly. Maybe he was in a hurry”

“Come on, you're just looking for an excuse not to solve for 2 and 2”

“I'm looking for an excuse to conduct an investigation of a case imposed on me correctly”

"Come on, Bobby, this is an adventure! Now we write a request to New York, find her family ... hey, need to have a leak?”

Robert pulled over and stopped abruptly. After that, he turned his head staring at his partner intensely.

“What?”

Brooks slowly moved his head toward the back seat.

"What’s that?" Bennett looked back “I can’t see anyth…”

Coming to a realization he slowly turned and gave his partner an incredulous look.

"Are you kidding me?"

Robert shook his head sarcastically.

"You're not serious."

"Very serious, Tam." Brooks looked at his watch briefly. "Hurry up, we're running late."

Rolling his eyes Bennett leaned back in his seat looking up above while groping for the handle. Twenty seconds later, when he got into the back seat and slammed the door behind him, Robert said with satisfaction:

"You have to bear responsibility for your words and deeds, dear Tam. Welcome to the world of adults”

He heard a loud raspberry being blown from behind and noticed in the rearview mirror that Bennett was now staring out of the window with his arms folded.

“Who I'm talking to though…”  Robert tiredly complained without addressing anyone “Seriously, my eight-year-old son behaves more adequately”

He accelerated and detectives continued their way to the department building.

[cassandra-rp]

WIP ; Chase.

Murphy groaned as he reached up and held his face for a moment that stung and ached and grimacing at the pain that shot through his arm. He felt like shit.  His eyes opening slowly into darkness. It was cramped and it was dark - car trunk. He realized as his mind shot back to the night before...

---

Murphy kissed Gene goodnight as he shrugged his jacket on and walked out of her house as much as he wanted to stay the night, Rita called.  So he begrudgingly left, lingering beside his motorcycle as he checked one of his many phones. Her house was secure and in a rich neighborhood so he didn't even really think much about hearing the footsteps behind him until they were really close, turning as he pulled his gun only to get a metal pipe in the face.  The blow was well made and knocked him down despite his effort to hold himself up...  He fired a shot off at the target but he knew he didn't hit as there was several more blows - He heard Gene's voice and grimaced but the last blow knocked him out cold.

Genevieve was the target - Locking her door, arming herself and calling the cops accomplished nothing.  The door cracked open within seconds and although she dropped one of the men she panicked as the multiple targets came at her, missing twice and the last shot only injuring one of them. Her clip running out and the men grabbing her. She screamed and made a fuss but it didn't matter as in seconds she found her arms tied, mouth gagged and dragged outside, tossed into a trunk and Murphy's body flopping on top of her's. Sadly, it wasn't very comforting.   ---

He felt around but was sure Gene wasn't there anymore - he'd been in and out for a little while and felt her breathing and even her fingers digging through his pockets trying to find something to cut her binds... He was proud of her for that.

He found his pocket knife wedged in the side of the trunk. There was blood on it - he felt the sticky semi-dried substance stick to his fingers even if he couldn't see it. As he felt around in the darkness he found one of his phones, grabbing it and turning it on, the blue light instantly filling up the darkness - god there was a lot of blood but he was pretty sure most of it was his.     He confirmed the blood on the knife and glanced around as he saw Gene's binds under his leg. She'd gotten free and probably stabbed whoever the hell opened the trunk, unlucky fuck. The blood spatter on his clothes that wasn't his proved she made a good slice.  

He needed to get the fuck out of here. His eyes scanning the edges of the trunk before stabbing his knife into the fabric, slicing through it and wiggling some wires out of it and messing with them. it took a couple minutes til he found the right one, the trunk instantly popping open. He took a deep breath as he kicked it open and sat up, prepared to stab someone if needed but realized he probably didn't need to as he saw his surroundings, squinting at the sunlight for a moment as he looked at the scrap yard, Blacklight's scrap yard. He'd been here a few times... Fuck, He was a ways from home now. Grimacing as he put his phone to his ear after dialing Rita's number - he needed to figure out what happened and more importantly where Gene was as he started around the car to look inside it for any clues and his face falling a little bit as he saw Gene's clothes stuffed in the window and anger built in his stomach as he yanked the door open.

As he moved her clothes out of the way he noted that there was blood on them - not a lot. thankfully.  The dashboard of the car was littered with cigarettes and cigars that had just been put out directly there. It reeked...  The steering wheel was filthy - trash all in the floorboards but he knew enough that it looked like someone had been doing surveillance for well over a month

"Murphy? Where the hell are you? What did you do?"

Rita's tone was sharp as she seemed concerned and a bit frustrated but she was getting as close to caring as she allowed herself to.  

"What did I do?" He turned the question back as he raised and eyebrow as he dug around in the console of the car.

"Your girlfriend's parents are on the news - There's a dead body in her house of a random guy and she's missing and when they called you - you apparently told them they'd better get ready to pay up if they want there daughter back. "

He grimaced, that's why he was missing three of his phones. They were setting him up for this and Gene's parents probably bought it hook, line and sinker.  Especially since the cops were constantly looking for evidence of a crime to drag him in for... Maybe it's a good thing he wasn't in  Port Lyndon.

" You know I wouldn't hurt her, Rita... Not even for money.  I'm going to need somewhere to go, Rita. I'm in Blacklight.  I've got nothing on me."  

Rita let out and exasperated sigh before rattling off a name he'd never heard before.  'Lazarus' and the address before she got off the line to call this person.  Murphy finding a stack of photos of Gene in the glove box underneath even more trash but it wasn't useful aside from confirming his theory about her being watched for months... He was slightly annoyed at himself for missing it - finally finding a useful clue stuck in the stack of photos, a blue ticket that he knew exactly where it was from. It was better than nothing...

--------

Genevieve had put up one hell of a fight when she got out of the trunk but she couldn't get away - she'd taken out two of the men in total. One in her house and one by slicing his throat when they opened the trunk but the other two overpowered her in minutes but she kept fighting. She'd managed to rough both of them up - beating and cutting one of them with the heel of her high heel and clawing the other man several times, leaving a deep gash on his neck from her nails.  They hadn't really expected her to fight so much hence why she found herself tied from wrist to elbow, the binds so tight she barely felt her hands anymore they were numb from the rope, The same went for her loud mouth - she had no idea what was even in her mouth but it tasted of kerosene and dirt and she couldn't move her jaw - her screaming muffled just enough that nobody was going to hear her - wherever they were.

She grimaced as she was wearing some random clothes that were a lot plainer than the glittery dress she'd had on before. The oversized sweater reeked of sweat and cigarettes and she didn't have anything else on aside from her underwear. The man she'd injured twice - once with the gun and once with her high heel grabbed her by the back of her neck - dragging her into the bathroom and shoving her down on the floor with a smirk.

"Look pretty for the camera, bitch."

He spoke roughly and sounded like the ash tray he was as he lifted Murphy's phone camera up and took a picture of her. Genevieve looking away as he did, huffing.  A smirk on his lips as he turned, slamming the bathroom door and leaving her there as he walked away.  At least she was finally alone again...

----

Murphy had started out of the scrap yard - it was like a maze but he finally figured out where the exit was - a few of the workers staring at him but not asking any questions as they were typically paid not to...  His eyes glancing to the phone and sighing in relief. - Yes, She was tied up and looked miserable but she was alive and that's all that mattered for the moment. He figured they wanted her for money especially due to what they'd told her parents...

The long ass walk just made his pain turn to anger as he brooded over what had happened... How Genevieve was in danger while he was right there and he'd let his guard down.  He worried though that if her parents didn't play along that they'd torture her and all to real concern.  He found the apartment, heading upstairs quickly.  Lazarus's door already open as he reached the top floor though there was several people milling around outside in the hallway and he sighed as he heard a couple of them pull guns on him - raising his hands.

"Let him in." The man yelled from the apartment and Murphy sighed in relief as he walked forward into the apartment where the man in question sat, He barely looked 30 and had medium length hair, it was black and had dark blue streaks through it, braided intricately before it was pulled into a ponytail. His stubble a bit rough and messy...  Tattoos for days arms, chest, legs.  He was wearing a half unbuttoned black shirt and jeans that had enough holes in them to be clarified as rags. His green eyes glowing as he glanced over at Murphy, lifting himself up from the chair and crossing his arms. "Rita said you'd needed some guns - Looks like you could use some stitches to, Love." He said with a smile, walking to a table and digging around as he got a first aid kit from under some paperwork.  

Murphy blinked, He wasn't expecting him to be so... friendly.   He hesitated but slowly gave in as he sat down and let him stitch up the wound on his head. "I owe Rita so whatever you need is yours, Love." He stated, smiling.

"Erm, Thanks.  I need a couple guns and a vehicle or a bike. Oh. And I might need a couple bodies - depending." He was dry and direct as he spoke and Laz seemed to finish stitching up the wound on his head, bandaging it and walking over to his dresser, opening it and pulling out a couple different pistols and ammo. "Tell the girl at the door in red that you're going out back. She'll show you what we have. Gotta couple motorcycles and a few cars." He paused and pulled his wallet out and plucked out several large bills and handed it to him. "You're going to need money to get anywhere in this city. Trust me."  

----

It took forever but Gene finally pulled herself to her feet and rested her back against the barred window as there was some sharp corners, rubbing her wrists back and forth against it, cutting them a couple times unfortunately as she struggled to get the rope lined up but finally achieved it... She heard them swearing in the other room though.  There plan to frame Murphy was what was going to screw them over and by extension, Gene.  Her parents had a lot of faith in the law and were hesitating on the payment as of course 'We know who we're looking for'   Gene heard the voices lower as they said some choice words and she realized she wouldn't be able to do much even if she was free - not yet.  She sat down with a sigh and closed her eyes...Tears stinging them.

She'd last seen Murphy as she got out of the trunk and attacked them - she hoped he'd wake up but he didn't and she worried he was still in the trunk...or worse.

The door slammed open but she didn't startle as the man walked over and grabbed her, lifting her up with ease and propping her on the sink. "Let's take a page out of your boyfriend's book..." The other man stated as he stepped in with a lighter in his hand as he reached into her mouth - The other man forcing it so she wouldn't bite since they both expected her to try it, and to be fair, they weren't wrong. His fingers pulling her tongue out as he lit the lighter and held it against it, smirking as she screamed. The two men holding her as they burned her on her cheek, neck, arms and fingers before tossing her on the floor and taking pictures of her wounds...

Genevieve cried, trembling. She didn't know how bad it really was but it hurt like crazy... Her fingers as well felt like even the slightest touch was agonizing.  

----

Murphy got suited up and his shit together and set out to find Gene, annoyed. He still didn't really know how he was going to prove his innocence but figured Gene as long as she was alive and awake would defend him...  

He decided to head towards the source of the blue tickets that belonged to a specialty club.  He knew she wasn't there as there was nowhere to hide her really but he figured the surrounding area would be a good bet, A buzz coming from his phone as he reached for it, waiting in traffic.

"V is sick, Anyways. It took me a bit longer without his files but I got into your phone that's with Gene. Reverse tap, recording included. I'm having issues tracking it with his 'protections' - give me five more minutes. - B. "

The text came through followed by several audio files - He heard everything - them arguing about the payment to them speaking about  'taking a page out of his book' and he cringed as he heard Gene scream as he figured out exactly what was going on with the audio.  His nails digging into steering wheel. He knew something that B didn't catch as the audio came to and end - the sound of a TV getting louder and louder. They knew they were being tapped... His eyes scanned the motels he passed - He had to catch her now because B's trace would be useless.

----   Gene laid there for awhile after the burning but suddenly she heard the tv get loud and there voices drop. There was the sound of things moving and things slamming before one of them walked in and pulled her up, grasping her throat. "If you try anything - I will send you home in so many pieces they'll never put you back together. " His voice rough and gruff and annoyed, Placing a jacket around Gene as he marched her outside - the sunlight made her wince and she got a glimpse of the area - she wasn't in Port Lyndon. She saw several things she tried to memorize before she was thrown into the back of a blue car, shoving her onto the floorboard and tossing another coat over her before tossing a couple gym bags in on top of her, they didn't want her visible. The car doors slamming and the car speeding out of the parking lot.  

She was just slipping through his fingers as the blue car sped past him.   (@kristie  So I want to keep writing this out but I have school and probably should go bed and shit. Tl;dr ; Part II involves this escalating into months of Murphy just barely missing Gene and her getting away from the kidnappers only to get herself into some more trouble and drama and darkness and themes. I LIKE THE IDEA OKAY I’M GOING TO STOP JUSTIFYING IT TO YOU. AAAAAAAAAAAA)

[imaginativemarvel]

Sexual Tension - Bucky Barnes x Reader Pt. 3

Summary: (Y/N) transfers to a new university only to find out her new teacher is a hot jackass. Heated words are tossed back and forth but it ends up making them gravitate even closer.

Chapter Summary: (Y/N) is forced to spend time with the last person she wants to see, her asshole professor, Mr.Barnes.

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.3k (sorry it’s shorter than usual)

Warning: Some cursing, lots of fluff ok A/N: thank you all soooo much for supporting this series!!! (PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS AND TALK TO ME I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!)

Chapter 2

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You were shaking your hips, head moving back and forth. Spinning and singing to your hearts content. It was a few days after the incident you had with your teacher. You didn’t speak one word to him and you came to class a minute before the bell rung each day. He constantly tried to get your attention; Whether it was saying something dumb to get a sarcastic comment out of your mouth or if it was to talk after class.

Each time you either ignored him or completely walked away from him entirely. You continued to dance and scream the song playing on the speakers a few feet away from you. You were staying overtime at your new job and was the only one in the building. You were put on kitchen clean up duty so you wouldn’t be leaving the store for quite a while. Preparing yourself for the extra hour you stuck your phone into the speakers doc a few feet away from the overfilling sink.

Putting on huge yellow rubber gloves you headed over- more like danced over- to the filled up sink. Dishes were everywhere but you didn’t mind. It was a good way to be lost into your thoughts and do whatever you want without anyone judging you. You were about halfway through when one of your favorite childhood songs came on; Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood.

“Right now, he’s probably slow dancing with a bleached-blond tramp and she’s probably getting frisky” you sang at the top of your lungs, off tone and everything. You scrubbed plate my plate singing and spinning. Shaking your hips to each word said in the song.

You were halfway through the song when you were finishing the rest of the dishes. You cleaned the last few cups and set them into the machine, turning it on and turning off the faucet. You swayed back and forth finishing the last sentence to the famous song.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.” Singing like nobody was watching you laughed at yourself for being so weird. You heard a disconnecting sound signaling your phone wasn’t on the doc anymore. You figured it just fell out, that happens often because you jam your huge iPhone 7+ phone into a doc made for a IPhone 5. You turned to go set it back in before being shocked with a familiar voice.

“Really? Who screwed you over?” You looked at the mysterious man. Mentally giving yourself punches in the face as you roll your eyes and peel the yellow gloves off your hands.

“It’s a good song!” You protest “Wait, ugh, what are you doing here? How long have you been here?” You leaned against the counter top, giving him an irritating look.

“Long enough to see you dancing lessons. You know I can help you with that right?” He gave you a wink and you scoffed.

“And well…” trailing off, his muscular arm raised up to the back of his neck as he gave it a rub. “I came to see you.” He smirked like the past week had never happened. He had his ego back in and not an ounce of sadness was left in him from that previous Monday morning.

“How the fuck did you know that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), would be here in the back kitchen at Tony’s Pizza washing dishes at-” you picked up your right hand glancing at your favorite watch “12:36 am at night?”

He chuckled at your irritation and anger as you continued to ramble.

“Plus I just got this job! It’s impossible for you to figure out unless you were, I don’t know, maybe tracking my license plate? I know these things are not in my files! The only person I told about this job and how I was stuck here for a while is-”

Your phone dinged as someone messaged you. He looked at the phone still in his hands, smiling wider than before. He tossed it to you and you caught it, looking at the lock screen to see who had messaged you. You finished the sentence you were cut off from by your device with a sigh.

“Steve.”

Running your fingers through your hair you re-read his message and responded back to him.

‘I’m sorry (Y/N)! He threatened after class if I didn’t tell him that he would fail me.’

“Really Rogers?!’

Even though you understood why he did it, you were upset that you were practically face to face with the last person you wanted to talk to. Tossing your phone on the counter next to you as you looked up to the familiar beautiful blue eyes you missed dearly.

“Door unlocked?”

“Yeah, you guys really should lock doors if you’re closed. Especially when the only worker is too busy singing Carrie Underwood in back room” He chuckled and you tried hard not to smile. You were mad at him; you weren’t going to easily forgive him even if his smile melted your heart entirely.

“If you want to criticize me so much why don’t you work here yourself?”

“If that meant I got to spend more time with you, then why not?”

“Seriously you can’t just walk up to me and pretend like we’re on good terms. It might be childish but you really hurt my feelings. And for you to just waltz right up to me and give me those dumb stupid comments of yours expecting me to just forgive you makes you completely out of your mind.” You close your eyes and rub your hand through your hair once more.

“What if I am here to apologize? Also..” he trailed off before lifting up a cup with the words ‘The Grind’ written on the side. “I brought your favorite smoothie?” Shrugging his shoulders and shaking the cup as if he was trying to get you to forgive him.

You stared at him with a serious look and didn’t say a word. You raised an eyebrow and he set the cup down inhaling deeply while walking towards to you. He leaned on the counter directly across from you making you both arm length apart.

“I should have defended you. What she said wasn’t right. I knew she was wrong but I just… I didn’t know what to say. We had a dinner later that day and all I could think about was-” he paused and looked at his feet. “ it’s just that dinner completely and utterly horrible. I took your advice and I told them I needed time to think about the relationship they’re setting on my shoulders. I needed time to find out what I truly want.”

“And what did they say?” looking at the floor along with him, you practically whispered the question to him.

“That if I didn’t marry Dot by the end of the month then I’m the first Barnes to fail his family.” His voice cracked and you knew that this was the first time he had talked to someone about the situation.

You paused for a second, thinking of the best thing to say to him. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of living a horrible life to please horrible people.

“So are you going to do it?” You looked at him with a questioning look. You stopped leaning on the edge of the counter, standing up straight and looking him in the eyes.

“Are you going to marry dot? She did say that you were hers- that you were ‘her man’. Are you going to throw your life away to marry a piece of scum? Are you sure you want to do that, Bucky?”

He could tell you were mocking himself and Dolores. You were repeating the nicknames they’ve called each other while simultaneously asking him in an intimidating tone. He knew you weren’t doing it in a hurtful way; but in a way to show him to choose what’s best for himself.

“No. I’m not. I don’t love her and I never will.” Looking into your (Y/E/C) eyes he inched closer and closer to you. Setting his hands on your shoulders with your faces only inches apart. Your hands still behind you gripping the end of the counter.

“Good. How do you expect to live doing things that only harm you? You’re suppose to live life doing what makes you happy and if you don’t do that then you’re nothing more than a slave.” Your hot breath hit his face as he continued to stare into your eyes.

He began to lean forward. He closed his eyes but before he could close the small gap between you you quickly turned around, grabbing a wet rag.

“I should really finish cleaning.” Was all you managed to say before wiping down the counters.

You have to admit, you knew what was happening. You were afraid of doing anything with him. You knew deep down inside that you wanted it but you were afraid. Not only that but he still wasn’t off the hook for what he did earlier that week; if he deserved anything it definitely wouldn’t be a kiss on the lips. He would have to practically earn back your trust or forgiveness. You weren’t going to be like the rest and just accept him because he’s adorable and just the funniest thing ever.

“Go out with me. Tomorrow night.” He was standing there leaning on one hand that gripped the counter edge.

Finishing the final thing you needed to clean, you wiped down the last counter and threw the cloth into the dirty pile bin.

“It’s not that I’m underage it’s just you do know that it’s against school rules for a student to date their teacher, right?” You untied the apron from behind your waist and off your neck before hooking it onto the door.

“Who said we would be dating?” He smirked at you receiving an eye-roll.

“You’re telling me that you asked me out on a date and didn’t even think about dating for a split second? I mean usually dates are the thing to get to know each other before you start dating hence why it’s literally the same word but with an added suffix.”

“God you sound like a middle school English teacher.”

“But I’m right.” You smiled and took the hair band out of your hair letting it fall to your shoulders.

“I never said it was a date, I just said go out with me.”

“Barnes, that literally is a way to ask someone out on a date” You both laughed and you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him.

“When?”

“Tomorrow 8pm.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, movies? Restaurant? You choose.”

“I’m indecisive. Choose.”

“Ugh fine um, movies. I heard there’s this really cool action movie coming out. Trailer was good but I forget the name. It surrounds this girl who is saving the world or something.” He stroked his chin and squinted his eyes trying to figure out the name of the movie.

“Wow you want to see Wonder Woman? And I thought you were more of a Marvel kind of guy.”

“What’s the difference? But is that a yes?”

“It would have been a yes if you didn’t just insult me! Marvel and DC are completely different things!” You dramatically throw your hands in the air earning a chuckle from him.

“I was joking!”

“I know you weren’t! But I really want to see Wonder Woman so I’ll go. Now let’s go before it’s too late.”

“Oh yeah, right. Accept the date but only because you ‘want to see the movie’” he mocked your voice and used his hands for dramatic and misused quotation marks. he picked up the sweating smoothie and took a drink before handing it to you.

“I bought this for you and it would be rude to not accept it.”

Laughing, you both walked to the front of the store. You checked everything to make sure it was clean for the next day and grabbed your bag and jacket before meeting him the front door.

“Well Mr.Barnes, you better make tomorrow worth it.”

“Oh I will, trust me, oh and call me Bucky.”

“Is your first name really Bucky?”

“It’s James but I prefer Bucky. Only close people can call me it.”

“Oh yeah, like Dolores.” You snorted. It probably wasn’t the best time to bring her up but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Okay, well, only close people who I give permission to can call me Bucky. I never gave her permission or mentioned the nickname to her; My father told her.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off in a teasing way. You smiled and tapped his chest.

“I kinda like James more” you winked at him and lust filled his eyes. He loved the way you said his name. Normally if someone said his first name he would glare at them but the way you said it filled him with desire.

You opened the door so you both could walk outside to the parking lot. You dug in your bag to grab your keys to lock the door.

“You better lock it this time!” He opened his eyes wide, teasing you.

“I wasn’t suppose to the first time.” You rolled your eyes with a smile. “And what does it look like I’m doing!” You jiggled the door to make sure it was locked before giving him once last smile and wave before walking to your car.

The moment you turned you felt a grab at your wrist, pulling you and turning you around to hit his hard chest. His warm lips connected with yours and his hands wrapped themselves around your waist.

After a moment of realizing what was happening you kissed him back, cursing yourself inside for giving into him when you clearly told yourself he didn’t deserve it. After a few seconds he pulled away and gave you a smile. He turned and walked to the direction of his car while holding up his hand.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Sweet Dreams, James.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tags (still open!):

@dinorapreira @mariah-notcarey17 @irepeldirt @lloeppky @buckybisexualbarnesofthe107th @modestlyconfused @g0back2bed @grunge-crybabies @crybabyscum @misscherryberry @httperrornicole @ktrivia @socialheartbreak @softwhispers @astronomicalfarts @satansknittinglcub

(Did I forget you? Please message me! If your name is crossed out it’s because Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you.)

[whitejxker-blog]

Dossier

Note: The following information is taken directly from the Tokyo Ghoul Wiki Site. For those who are not up to date with the series, spoilers will be contained so READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. What this page will not contain is information that pertains to Root A as it served as a filler arc in the anime. Given that Tokyo Ghoul remains as an ongoing series, do expect the dossier to be updated regularly. -------

Ken Kaneki (金木 研, Kaneki Ken) is the main protagonist of Tokyo Ghoul and Tokyo Ghoul:re. Formerly, he was a human studying Japanese Literature at Kamii University, living a relatively normal life. However, this soon changed after Rize Kamishiro's kakuhou was transplanted into him, transforming him into a one-eyed ghoul. After joining Anteiku as a part-time waiter, he learned how to live as a ghoul and eventually became known as Eyepatch (眼帯, Gantai).

After being captured by Aogiri Tree, he underwent a drastic personality change and after escaping, formed a group with the goal of protecting those precious to him and exterminating individuals threatening his place to belong. His kakuja's distinct appearance earned him the alias Centipede (百足, Mukade).

Two years following his defeat against Kishou Arima, he lived under the identity of Haise Sasaki (佐々木 琲世, Sasaki Haise), an Associate Special Class Ghoul Investigator who formerly served as the mentor of the CCG's Quinx Squad. His memories were initially lost to him, but regained during the Tsukiyama Family Extermination Operation. Six months after the operation, ghouls came to know him by the moniker of the Black Reaper (黒の死神, Kuro no Shinigami).

After defeating Arima and Eto had unveiled their joint plan to raise a one-eyed ghoul who could stand as the hope for all ghouls, he calls himself the One-Eyed King (隻眼の王, Sekigan no Ō). Kaneki has since then formed the organization he named Goat.

Appearance

As a child, Kaneki had all the same features he has now as an adult with black hair. As a normal university student, Kaneki was a scrawny young man with little to no athletic background who preferred to read books. In his free time, he wore casual clothes.

At work, he wore the standard Anteiku waiter uniform, consisting of black trousers and a gray waistcoat over a white dress shirt and a brown necktie. Because he could not yet properly control his single kakugan that manifests in his left eye, he wore a medical eye patch to cover it.

His ghoul mask resembles a leather gimp mask with an eye patch. It bears a lipless mouth with large, gnashing teeth, much like a restrained asylum monster. The bolts sticking out of his neck and the fact that he is an artificial ghoul invoke a Frankenstein-like theme.

After being tortured by Yamori, his appearance changed drastically. His hair became completely white, his nails were blackened, and developed a more muscular physique. He began to favor monochrome clothing and wore a form-fitting black bodysuit with cutouts when going into battle.

In the years since adopting the identity of Haise Sasaki, his hair began to develop black streaks growing out from the crown. He wore the standard business attire of a ghoul investigator, favoring black dress shirts and pinstripe pants with a knee-length white trench coat. He also wears a pair of round eyeglasses when reading. After the events of the Auction Mopping-up Operation, his hair slowly began to revert back to its original color with almost no white remaining.

After the Tsukiyama Family Extermination Operation, his appearance changed drastically again. His hair had completely reverted to its original black color, and he started wearing his glasses at all times. He wore a black version of the Arima Squad uniform, pairing a black dress shirt with black slacks and a long, black trench coat. In contrast, he wore a pair of red gloves that disguised his right hand which is covered in reptilian scales. In his second battle with Arima, Sasaki wore a form-fitting black bodysuit underneath his uniform.

Upon regaining his identity as Ken Kaneki, his hair turned completely white again after having his limbs cut off repeatedly by Arima. He again wears the same medical patch over his left eye when going into public, and both of his arms are covered in reptile-like scales. As the One-Eyed King and leader of Goat, Kaneki wears a collared black coat over his new sleeveless battle suit with dark gloves reaching past his elbows.

Personality

Pre-Aogiri

Kaneki was a shy and reserved person, with Hide being his only close friend. He usually spent most of his time reading books, mostly novels. He was extremely gentle and appeared to be optimistic most of the time. Influenced by his mother and a true testament of modesty, he willingly took blame and punishment from others so that he can be someone who does not hurt people, but rather absorb the torment. However, this lack of assertiveness normally got him bullied and taken advantage of.

However, beneath his altruistic and gentle nature, was an underlying fear of being alone that was aggravated by his mother's death. He despised the idea of solitude; hence he tried to protect those dear to him so he would not have to face his fear of being alone in the world.

This was perhaps his greatest weakness. Since Kaneki was always trying to protect others, he was essentially trying to protect himself from ever being alone again. Therefore, to escape that scenario, he would shoulder the task of protecting others onto himself, without relying on anyone else. This was also why Kaneki rejected the notion of "living," because watching others die reminded him of those lonely days without anyone beside him.

After he was turned into a half-ghoul, he clung to his human side. To keep living in the human world, he began to work at Anteiku and established relationships with the ghouls there. He started to develop an interest in becoming stronger and began reading martial art books so he could protect those closest to him. However, he was still troubled with the fact that he was a half-ghoul and wanted to search for a place where he could belong. As much as he treasured his life, if people close to him were threatened, he would not hesitate to put his life on the line.

Post-Aogiri

After being held captive and undergoing intense torture by the hands of Yamori; Kaneki's personality changed drastically. He trashed his previous ideology of "being hurt rather than hurting others." pledging to crush those who dared threaten his place of belonging. He adopted the habit of cracking his fingers from his torturer, Yamori. In his subconscious, Kaneki ate "Rize," the image of his ghoul self. This displayed that he accepted the "ghoul" within him. Instead of being influenced by it, he appeared to have become the one to surpass it. Kaneki became ruthless and brutal in order to protect his friends, yet he managed to maintain complete composure. He no longer feared his ghoul side and was more violent during battles; such as when he cannibalized Yamori's kagune in order to strengthen himself, and mercilessly broke 103 of Ayato's bones. By embracing his ghoul nature wholeheartedly, Kaneki gave up on being "human."

Kaneki was still capable of showing his gentle nature in front of people he cared about, but instantly turned merciless against his enemies. He yearned for strength and power, therefore becoming more arrogant. His new creed - that as "the strong" he had the right to "devour the weak" - was originally an ideology held by Yamori. Banjou assumed that Kaneki developed some form of mental instability during his torture in the 11th ward, and that this would gradually wear him down.

Whenever he was near starvation and losing control of his kagune (or half-kakuja), he behaved in a way that emulated another's, such as Rize or Yamori. He would speak in a crazed disorganized manner, further implying his mental instability during these periods.

After raiding Kanou's lab and attacking Banjou, Kaneki reverted back to his pre-Aogiri personality. He entered a period of soul-searching. He wished to reclaim his lost "human" side and became uncertain about the path he had taken to become stronger. He started to question and seek answers from individuals such as Uta, Yomo, and Yoshimura in order to understand the incidents that have happened around him since he turned into a ghoul.

Auction

While living under his new identity as Haise Sasaki, he was a self-contained and good-natured individual. He was loyal, devoted, and possessed a good work ethic. Sasaki was very cooperative, as he preferred working in a group rather than working alone. He also showed mercy, as he believed that an investigator should not annihilate ghouls unnecessarily. Sasaki enjoyed reading books in his free time and had a habit of using puns, shown by his conversation with Akira Mado in the curry restaurant. He tended to scratch the back of his head when he was thinking hard or feeling uneasy. He still had his old habit of scratching or rubbing his chin whenever he was hiding something or lying from his days as Kaneki.

He showed appropriate respect and great concern for his colleagues, especially his underlings. He complied with orders assigned by his seniors and carried them out without hesitation. However, Sasaki's gentle nature often led his subordinates to constantly disobey him, rendering him ineffective in controlling their actions; he was left to worry about their safety.

In contrast to before his memory loss, Sasaki rejected his ghoul side and was afraid of it. When analyzed by Arima after his capture, Sasaki appeared to retain his introverted nature and lack of assertiveness as Kaneki, along with his yearning for a motherly figure.

However Sasaki was still prone to losing control, as shown when he fought the Serpent, where he also cracked his fingers during the fight, a habit that he had originally developed as Kaneki in the past. Donato noted that Sasaki was curious about his memories, but also afraid of them as he worried he could no longer keep his current life in the CCG should he ever recover his memories. Sasaki feared that relying on his ghoul side would make him disappear. After being rescued from Takizawa by Hinami, Sasaki's perspective on his ghoul nature changed. He concluded that the Kaneki of the past must have been a good person because Hinami cared for him a lot, even though he did not remember. He eventually accepted this ghoul side in order to protect Hinami and Saiko, with the risk of his personality disappearing. He learned about Kaneki who appeared in his subconscious as a mental construct where "Kaneki" admitted that he was also scared and asked Sasaki to not erase him.

After the auction, Sasaki was friendlier towards his ghoul side. However, "Kaneki" said the relationship could not last forever, as they were two beings fighting for one body. Sasaki was told to "not erase him," but misheard it as "disappear." He then remained conflicted about his past, actively searching for information about himself.

Post-Rose Extermination

During the Tsukiyama Family Extermination Operation, Sasaki recalled a memory of his past as Ken Kaneki where he had been physically abused by his mother. He also realized that he unconsciously wished to die and had been glad to see Arima. However, that failed, so he believed that burying his past was his salvation, so he chose to forget and live as Haise Sasaki. Upon realizing this, Sasaki accepted his past, resolving to stop "dreaming."

After regaining his memories, in sharp contrast to his previously gentle personality, Sasaki became colder and much more violent. He fought with more brutal force and was willing to put Tsukiyama's life at risk, despite already remembering his old acquaintance. He did however ensure that Kanae would rescue Tsukiyama before throwing the ghoul off the building. He displayed his cold nature to Urie when the latter blamed him for Shirazu's death, calmly telling him that it was his fault as he was the one fighting beside Shirazu. He then mourned together with Mutsuki and Saiko, showing that despite his cold demeanor, he still felt sad about Shirazu's death.

Third Cochela Raid

During the Cochlea attack, Sasaki displays his deep unhappiness for his own existence, constantly engaged in inner monologue. As he rescues Hinami from her cell, he reveals his own motives that have not changed since the Tsukiyama Investigation. That he wanted to "go out in style." Meaning to act as a sacrificial pawn with no care for his own life, Sasaki displays regret when Touka tells him to see her later, stating that it is all so unfair and that Touka is a cruel one.

While being torn apart by Arima, Sasaki gives up on living altogether, stating his task was completed. He is interrupted by a projection of "Hide" who tells him to stop being a fool and to listen for once. Once Sasaki realizes what Hide actually meant back in V14, his hair turns white once more due to the stress of being ripped apart by Arima and rises with a newfound will to live wearing a smile on his face.

Psychological Issues

Kaneki's mental state undergoes extreme changes over the course of the series. Before his torture, Kaneki would at times refer to his actions as "we" or "us," albeit mostly while in a stressed state. Kaneki personifies his feelings to an extent that they take the form of people existing within his mind. When meeting these mental constructs, Kaneki enters a limbo-like state where he converses with them. Kaneki initially only entered this state when he is under extreme duress or near-death, and later included during calm settings for conversation.

During his torture at the hands of Yamori, this construct takes the form of Rize Kamishiro. She taunts him for his weakness and shows memories from his past with his mother, forcing out his anger towards her for not being able to refuse her sister. Through these memories, she gradually convinces Kaneki to abandon his previous ideology of being the one who gets hurt instead of others. By accepting "Rize," Kaneki embraces a more brutal view of the world and accepts his ghoul powers.

The next time he encounters this alternate self is at V14, after being mortally wounded by Arima. Within his mind, he encounters a child version of himself that he feels the desire to protect. As he comes to accept his failings and similarities to his mother, this self transforms into a version of Kaneki as he existed at the beginning of the series. This more innocent Kaneki accepts him, and thanks him for all that he has done to protect them. The two vanish together, resolving to "sleep" for a while.

In Tokyo Ghoul:re, the mental construct took on the appearance of Kaneki, initially appearing as Yamori's prisoner while donning his kakuja mask. This "Kaneki" torments him, demanding to be accepted and given back his body. Sasaki denied this being, which leads him to moments of instability whenever he uses his ghoul powers. When he is finally forced to accept his past and honor the request to "look" at "Kaneki," the projection appears to him as a white-haired child who he feels the need to protect. In the months following, Sasaki and "Kaneki" regularly converse with each other. Unlike previous constructs, Sasaki often imagines the child in the real world, picturing the child going through normal activities such as reading. Though they have reached an understanding, the child "Kaneki" tells Sasaki that the two of them cannot continue to co-exist and one will eventually vanish.

During Sasaki's fight with Karren, a heavily injured Sasaki once again retreats to his mind. The child then confronts him, taunting Sasaki for not being able to protect himself. Sasaki attacks the child, which prompts him to unsuppress his memories of being abused as Kaneki. As these memories came back to him, the child expressed that Kaneki was trying to die during the events at V14. He also desired to be loved by everyone that knows him, regardless of how his actions may obtain the desired result, be them with good or bad intentions, which the mental child Kaneki perceives as salvation. Sasaki regards himself as a "dream," caused when he began to desire. After Sasaki accepted his past, he resolves to quit "dreaming."

During Sasaki's fight with Arima at Cochlea, the latter savagely beats him to the brink of death. As Sasaki was about to succumb to his injuries and die, his mental construct takes the form of Hide. "Hide" scolds him for his selfish excuses, deducing that Sasaki had heard the sound of the compactor and asked whether he was okay with seeing his friends dying and letting his efforts be in vain. "Hide" encouraged Sasaki to live, reminding that he sacrificed himself with the goal of "living together with him" and that living would allow Sasaki to find a purpose in life. Sasaki's appearance begins to revert back to his post-Aogiri days, with his hair becoming white again.

"Hide's" advice made Sasaki realize that his mental constructs of "Rize" and "Hide" were all just manifestations of his inner desires and thoughts. Sasaki believed that Hide would stop him if he went beyond his own boundaries, causing Sasaki to deduce that once he began to think this way, he began to desire to live again.

[thelostpagesofportlyndon]

Dumpster files: That other time I wrote something with a good concept and Kristie made it better.

Murphy groaned as he reached up and held his face for a moment that stung and ached and grimacing at the pain that shot through his arm. He felt like shit.  His eyes opening slowly into darkness. It was cramped and it was dark - car trunk. He realized as his mind shot back to the night before...

---

Murphy kissed Gene goodnight as he shrugged his jacket on and walked out of her house as much as he wanted to stay the night, Rita called.  So he begrudgingly left, lingering beside his motorcycle as he checked one of his many phones. Her house was secure and in a rich neighborhood so he didn't even really think much about hearing the footsteps behind him until they were really close, turning as he pulled his gun only to get a metal pipe in the face.  The blow was well made and knocked him down despite his effort to hold himself up...  He fired a shot off at the target but he knew he didn't hit as there was several more blows - He heard Gene's voice and grimaced but the last blow knocked him out cold.

Genevieve was the target - Locking her door, arming herself and calling the cops accomplished nothing.  The door cracked open within seconds and although she dropped one of the men she panicked as the multiple targets came at her, missing twice and the last shot only injuring one of them. Her clip running out and the men grabbing her. She screamed and made a fuss but it didn't matter as in seconds she found her arms tied, mouth gagged and dragged outside, tossed into a trunk and Murphy's body flopping on top of her's. Sadly, it wasn't very comforting.   ---

He felt around but was sure Gene wasn't there anymore - he'd been in and out for a little while and felt her breathing and even her fingers digging through his pockets trying to find something to cut her binds... He was proud of her for that.

He found his pocket knife wedged in the side of the trunk. There was blood on it - he felt the sticky semi-dried substance stick to his fingers even if he couldn't see it. As he felt around in the darkness he found one of his phones, grabbing it and turning it on, the blue light instantly filling up the darkness - god there was a lot of blood but he was pretty sure most of it was his.     He confirmed the blood on the knife and glanced around as he saw Gene's binds under his leg. She'd gotten free and probably stabbed whoever the hell opened the trunk, unlucky fuck. The blood spatter on his clothes that wasn't his proved she made a good slice.  

He needed to get the fuck out of here. His eyes scanning the edges of the trunk before stabbing his knife into the fabric, slicing through it and wiggling some wires out of it and messing with them. it took a couple minutes til he found the right one, the trunk instantly popping open. He took a deep breath as he kicked it open and sat up, prepared to stab someone if needed but realized he probably didn't need to as he saw his surroundings, squinting at the sunlight for a moment as he looked at the scrap yard, Blacklight's scrap yard. He'd been here a few times... Fuck, He was a ways from home now. Grimacing as he put his phone to his ear after dialing Rita's number - he needed to figure out what happened and more importantly where Gene was as he started around the car to look inside it for any clues and his face falling a little bit as he saw Gene's clothes stuffed in the window and anger built in his stomach as he yanked the door open.

As he moved her clothes out of the way he noted that there was blood on them - not a lot. thankfully.  The dashboard of the car was littered with cigarettes and cigars that had just been put out directly there. It reeked...  The steering wheel was filthy - trash all in the floorboards but he knew enough that it looked like someone had been doing surveillance for well over a month

"Murphy? Where the hell are you? What did you do?"

Rita's tone was sharp as she seemed concerned and a bit frustrated but she was getting as close to caring as she allowed herself to.  

"What did I do?" He turned the question back as he raised and eyebrow as he dug around in the console of the car.

"Your girlfriend's parents are on the news - There's a dead body in her house of a random guy and she's missing and when they called you - you apparently told them they'd better get ready to pay up if they want there daughter back. "

He grimaced, that's why he was missing three of his phones. They were setting him up for this and Gene's parents probably bought it hook, line and sinker.  Especially since the cops were constantly looking for evidence of a crime to drag him in for... Maybe it's a good thing he wasn't in  Port Lyndon.

" You know I wouldn't hurt her, Rita... Not even for money.  I'm going to need somewhere to go, Rita. I'm in Blacklight.  I've got nothing on me."  

Rita let out and exasperated sigh before rattling off a name he'd never heard before.  'Lazarus' and the address before she got off the line to call this person.  Murphy finding a stack of photos of Gene in the glove box underneath even more trash but it wasn't useful aside from confirming his theory about her being watched for months... He was slightly annoyed at himself for missing it - finally finding a useful clue stuck in the stack of photos, a blue ticket that he knew exactly where it was from. It was better than nothing...

--------

Genevieve had put up one hell of a fight when she got out of the trunk but she couldn't get away - she'd taken out two of the men in total. One in her house and one by slicing his throat when they opened the trunk but the other two overpowered her in minutes but she kept fighting. She'd managed to rough both of them up - beating and cutting one of them with the heel of her high heel and clawing the other man several times, leaving a deep gash on his neck from her nails.  They hadn't really expected her to fight so much hence why she found herself tied from wrist to elbow, the binds so tight she barely felt her hands anymore they were numb from the rope, The same went for her loud mouth - she had no idea what was even in her mouth but it tasted of kerosene and dirt and she couldn't move her jaw - her screaming muffled just enough that nobody was going to hear her - wherever they were.

She grimaced as she was wearing some random clothes that were a lot plainer than the glittery dress she'd had on before. The oversized sweater reeked of sweat and cigarettes and she didn't have anything else on aside from her underwear. The man she'd injured twice - once with the gun and once with her high heel grabbed her by the back of her neck - dragging her into the bathroom and shoving her down on the floor with a smirk.

"Look pretty for the camera, bitch."

He spoke roughly and sounded like the ash tray he was as he lifted Murphy's phone camera up and took a picture of her. Genevieve looking away as he did, huffing.  A smirk on his lips as he turned, slamming the bathroom door and leaving her there as he walked away.  At least she was finally alone again...

----

Murphy had started out of the scrap yard - it was like a maze but he finally figured out where the exit was - a few of the workers staring at him but not asking any questions as they were typically paid not to...  His eyes glancing to the phone and sighing in relief. - Yes, She was tied up and looked miserable but she was alive and that's all that mattered for the moment. He figured they wanted her for money especially due to what they'd told her parents...

The long ass walk just made his pain turn to anger as he brooded over what had happened... How Genevieve was in danger while he was right there and he'd let his guard down.  He worried though that if her parents didn't play along that they'd torture her and all to real concern.  He found the apartment, heading upstairs quickly.  Lazarus's door already open as he reached the top floor though there was several people milling around outside in the hallway and he sighed as he heard a couple of them pull guns on him - raising his hands.

"Let him in." The man yelled from the apartment and Murphy sighed in relief as he walked forward into the apartment where the man in question sat, He barely looked 30 and had medium length hair, it was black and had dark blue streaks through it, braided intricately before it was pulled into a ponytail. His stubble a bit rough and messy...  Tattoos for days arms, chest, legs.  He was wearing a half unbuttoned black shirt and jeans that had enough holes in them to be clarified as rags. His green eyes glowing as he glanced over at Murphy, lifting himself up from the chair and crossing his arms. "Rita said you'd needed some guns - Looks like you could use some stitches to, Love." He said with a smile, walking to a table and digging around as he got a first aid kit from under some paperwork.  

Murphy blinked, He wasn't expecting him to be so... friendly.   He hesitated but slowly gave in as he sat down and let him stitch up the wound on his head. "I owe Rita so whatever you need is yours, Love." He stated, smiling.

"Erm, Thanks.  I need a couple guns and a vehicle or a bike. Oh. And I might need a couple bodies - depending." He was dry and direct as he spoke and Laz seemed to finish stitching up the wound on his head, bandaging it and walking over to his dresser, opening it and pulling out a couple different pistols and ammo. "Tell the girl at the door in red that you're going out back. She'll show you what we have. Gotta couple motorcycles and a few cars." He paused and pulled his wallet out and plucked out several large bills and handed it to him. "You're going to need money to get anywhere in this city. Trust me."  

----

It took forever but Gene finally pulled herself to her feet and rested her back against the barred window as there was some sharp corners, rubbing her wrists back and forth against it, cutting them a couple times unfortunately as she struggled to get the rope lined up but finally achieved it... She heard them swearing in the other room though.  There plan to frame Murphy was what was going to screw them over and by extension, Gene.  Her parents had a lot of faith in the law and were hesitating on the payment as of course 'We know who we're looking for'   Gene heard the voices lower as they said some choice words and she realized she wouldn't be able to do much even if she was free - not yet.  She sat down with a sigh and closed her eyes...Tears stinging them.

She'd last seen Murphy as she got out of the trunk and attacked them - she hoped he'd wake up but he didn't and she worried he was still in the trunk...or worse.

The door slammed open but she didn't startle as the man walked over and grabbed her, lifting her up with ease and propping her on the sink. "Let's take a page out of your boyfriend's book..." The other man stated as he stepped in with a lighter in his hand as he reached into her mouth - The other man forcing it so she wouldn't bite since they both expected her to try it, and to be fair, they weren't wrong. His fingers pulling her tongue out as he lit the lighter and held it against it, smirking as she screamed. The two men holding her as they burned her on her cheek, neck, arms and fingers before tossing her on the floor and taking pictures of her wounds...

Genevieve cried, trembling. She didn't know how bad it really was but it hurt like crazy... Her fingers as well felt like even the slightest touch was agonizing.  

----

Murphy got suited up and his shit together and set out to find Gene, annoyed. He still didn't really know how he was going to prove his innocence but figured Gene as long as she was alive and awake would defend him...  

He decided to head towards the source of the blue tickets that belonged to a specialty club.  He knew she wasn't there as there was nowhere to hide her really but he figured the surrounding area would be a good bet, A buzz coming from his phone as he reached for it, waiting in traffic.

"V is sick, Anyways. It took me a bit longer without his files but I got into your phone that's with Gene. Reverse tap, recording included. I'm having issues tracking it with his 'protections' - give me five more minutes. - B. "

The text came through followed by several audio files - He heard everything - them arguing about the payment to them speaking about  'taking a page out of his book' and he cringed as he heard Gene scream as he figured out exactly what was going on with the audio.  His nails digging into steering wheel. He knew something that B didn't catch as the audio came to and end - the sound of a TV getting louder and louder. They knew they were being tapped... His eyes scanned the motels he passed - He had to catch her now because B's trace would be useless.

----   Gene laid there for awhile after the burning but suddenly she heard the tv get loud and there voices drop. There was the sound of things moving and things slamming before one of them walked in and pulled her up, grasping her throat. "If you try anything - I will send you home in so many pieces they'll never put you back together. " His voice rough and gruff and annoyed, Placing a jacket around Gene as he marched her outside - the sunlight made her wince and she got a glimpse of the area - she wasn't in Port Lyndon. She saw several things she tried to memorize before she was thrown into the back of a blue car, shoving her onto the floorboard and tossing another coat over her before tossing a couple gym bags in on top of her, they didn't want her visible. The car doors slamming and the car speeding out of the parking lot.  

She was just slipping through his fingers as the blue car sped past him.   She didn't remember arriving here... The last thing she recalled was how bad her fingers hurt while she tried carving words into the wall with a broken syringe.  She'd spent what felt like several hours in the bathroom but had only been about one hour. "Fuck..." She rested on the edge of the toilet as she dry heaved a couple times - letting herself fall to the floor for a brief moment as she tried to figure out if she had anything left to chuck up. Gene felt like what most people imagined dying to feel like...The few bites of food she'd been able to keep down since her tongue burning incident was all lost as soon as they'd started plying her with drugs - She didn't know what was in the syringe but there was a high followed by a low that reminded of her of food poisoning. Gene slowly pulled herself off the cold tile despite how refreshing it felt against her skin and weakly stumbled back into her hotel room as she glanced out the window for a brief moment before everything began to spin and blur again and stumbling and staggering and with a loud creak, falling onto the bed. curling up into a ball and holding her stomach... The distorted sounds of the TV on in the other room filled her head as she laid there trying not to think about the pain in her stomach and arms.   'Genevieve Rivers, daughter of Karen and Steel Rivers. Model and designer in Port Lyndon is still missing. Authorities originally believed her current romantic partner was responsible but with further leads they are saying now that they believe that he was also abducted in a bid to frame him for her disappearance.." The voice faded as she passed out again - the pain was to much to deal with right now... ----- Laz glanced across to the other side of his sports car where Murphy despite his protests had finally dosed off as there wasn't enough coffee left in the city to keep him awake. He'd been going for three weeks straight practically and then some... He'd already managed to paint a massive target on his back by breaking several people's bones and setting a drug lab on fire... His tiredness only made his anger more delirious. Laz was fond to have a moment of silence as he drove... Him and his men knew Blacklight better anyways - He was confident that someone would find the breadcrumb trail Gene was leaving.   The words usually were short or a small sentence; 'Gunshot, men dead, new man :c, pain, drugged, black car, white seat, i broke the mirror.'  It wasn't incredibly informational but Murphy knew Gene enough that it kept them right on her trail as they knew what to look for. They knew she was on some hard drugs just from the few words she left and that'd given the best lead as they knew the person who orchestrated this now - well. His code name 'Zeus'... Laz hadn't heard of him and if Murphy had he didn't say anything but that didn't really matter to him right now anyways, Laz noted how badly he cared about Genevieve. He'd noted how he practically died inside every time he answered his phone as if someone would tell him she was dead... Laz sighed, he hadn't felt that yet but he knew of someone who almost made him feel that way and if she stayed around - he'd probably feel exactly the same way Murphy did about Gene. The buzzing of his own phone bringing him from his thoughts as he glanced at it and reached over, nudging Murphy's leg a couple times until he woke suddenly, sitting upright and quickly trying to compose himself. "What?" He asked quickly and harshly. Laz turned the car into a parking lot as he turned and pulled down a side road to cut down there time before speaking calmly. "Found the car, love.  Ras' is almost there to check it out and the boys are watching it."  Murphy pulled himself upright as the adrenaline instantly returned and the anger brewed. "Location, What's the location like?" He asked as he rubbed his face and tried to shake off whatever tiredness remained.   "It's a shitty hotel above the only casino that Faust doesn't own. Makes sense since your boss seems to have Faust on a short leash right now... They're probably running out of places to keep her. Imagine that generic hotel you see in every single movie. It's like that." --- Genevieve woke up several times off and on as she heard voices outside the door talking about about things. Monroe slamming his hand against a table with a sick grin on his lips. "We'll torture the bitch and get it out of her... Her parents pay for half her fucking lifestyle, it's obvious. They have to have a connected account and her parents are inept - they haven't put a hold on anything." The withdrawal was rough as she laid there, in and out until she felt weight on top of her and gasped a little bit, panicking. The room still spinning and the blurred figure of the man on top of her freaking her out as she tried to claw and hit the man but her wrists were already tied together again above her head - they knew how combative she was now. "Shh...Shh.." She felt a finger on her lips as her eyes slowly focused on the man; Monroe. He'd shot the other two men in the head and for a brief second just due to his appearance she thought he was Murphy as they dressed similarly and his hair was only slightly longer than Murphy's.  He wasn't Murphy, not at all...  He was sick and sadistic and practically got a hard on the first time he choked her and hit her. She just felt sick in his presence and she knew he was dangerous. He was smarter than the other men she'd been with who already were professionals. Monroe's hair fell into his eyes as he leaned over her, kissing her neck and whispering to her as he slid his hands along her arms and got a reaction of her trying to break his grip despite not having the strength or the use of her hands. "I can see why he likes you... I'd apologize, but, I'm honestly going to enjoy hurting you..." His voice was soft and calm as he spoke and contrasted against the sharp pain she suddenly felt. What happened next was horrific as they tried to break what was left of her... To get the info they wanted... ---- Murphy practically hopped out of the moving car as they arrived, his breath rough. He knew he had to focus past his anger and stress - If Gene was even alive he knew that she'd probably end up in a hostage situation by the end of this... He didn't plan on letting anymore of her blood spill. He impatiently waited for Laz to catch up as he walked around the car quickly, grimacing. Stupid neon lights. The reflection practically was giving him a headache...  He walked to the passenger side and noted the cracked window, it looked like someone punched it. He'd have to try to remember to tell Gene how good she did... If he got to tell her. He shook off that thought as Laz caught up from parking and led the way inside to the kitchen that looked - disgusting.  Murphy was glad he wasn't on the table side of things here as he looked at the layer of water and sludge on the floor and several dead rats piled in a corner next to the box of rat poison right beside the canister of flour or some cooking ingredient.   His eyes glanced around at the cocaine resting beside the fish and even blood splatter on the wall.   The rough moan behind him made him jump as he glanced back to see a girl up against the wall getting fucked by some dirty hobo looking guy... It was just, disgusting.  He held the gag in his mouth as Laz handed a handful of cash to the man standing there who screamed in what sounded like Japanese or Chinese and after a moment several women appeared in similar maid outfits as Laz held up his phone with a picture of Gene and held up what looked to be about two hundred dollars.  Two of the women starting to talk but of course neither one of them really knew what they were talking about. Murphy  grimaced a little as he didd't see how this was going to help... He knew a slim amount of Chinese that stopped somewhere after 'hello, goodbye, thank you'  and even then he couldn't really recall how to pronounce it.   Laz however was as calm as ever as he held up his hand with a 'one second' gesture as a disinterested and tired voice answered. "What...?"   Laz just raised his hand and made a 'repeat' motion with his hand as the women started talking and repeating what they'd said quickly as they reached for the money a couple times but Laz kept it out of reach until it was 'translated' and then the voice of a girl in the background yelling "DAAAD!" resulted in the call ending and Laz glanced to Murphy as he handed over the money. "Tenth floor, 402. Three men, Rude man who 'looks like you with tattoos and longer hair.' " Murphy grimaced and felt his stomach flip over as he began walking towards the elevator and clutched the gun in his holster - he fully expected that Gene would be missing fingers and limbs or worse. Laz catching up quickly. "I'm all good getting shot for you, Man. Who are we dealing with? Friend?" He said 'friend' with mounting sarcasm as Murphy punched the floor in and paced back and forth as much as he could in the junky elevator. "Monroe worked with me - He's psychotic, I don't even know a better word to explain how disturbed he is. He freaking tortured a woman for two days over a fucking missing bag of weed or some shit. Rita was pissed and literally was going to shoot him but he skipped town before she could. He loves torturing women and gets off on it." Murphy said as he slammed his hand against the elevator as if it'd make it rise faster. He didn't even realize he was running until he got to the door number in question - the tv turned up but even with it loudly blasting behind the door he could hear Gene. "Aaah!" Her scream was harsh and rough but it brought Murphy a bizarre comfort  - He was upset of course she was being hurt but it meant she was in there... He found himself freeze however as he debated how he wanted to do this. "I can take a bullet." Laz said quietly as he double checked and cocked his own gun.   "I'll go first and take out who I can, Stealth as long as possible. Sound good?" As much as Murphy felt uncertain about him - He knew enough about supernatural bullshit to know if someone says they can take the bullet that it's a better option.  He made a mental note to himself in that thought that he'd have to consider involving Rayne when he found this 'Zeus' cocksucker. Laz slipped the lock easily and went in first. His footsteps light and careful as he aimed his gun towards the room, Murphy watching his back somewhat but focused towards the door he heard another cry of pain behind. And in seconds the gunshots started.  Laz went first and fired two shots taking out one of the 'thugs' and the third shot he fired at least injured the second one before he hesitated as both of them were to close to the blonde crying heap on the bed he assumed was Gene. The bullet fired at him was fast and took him right in the side, making him drop. Monroe focused on Gene as he untied her and lifted her off the bed. Gene screaming as the drugs made the gunshots and all the movement freak her out. "No - No - No  - No " She mumbled as she struggled against his grip.   Murphy was careful as he rested against the wall and saw Laz fall, He looked dead... He didn't have time to think about it as he got and opening and fired, dropping the other one and leaving just him, Monroe and Gene... Gene. He felt himself almost drop the gun when he saw how horrible she looked... Gene didn't even realize how bad she looked as she practically relied on Monroe to even stand and was completely unaware of the gun pressed to her head as her eyes floated around the room in a blur... Her clothes was ripped off and her bare body was visible. unfortunately. There was so much blood that Murphy couldn't even tell what was injured. He had to focus, his eyes glued with Monroe's as he entered cautiously. "Just, Let her go." He stated calmly - He wanted to scream, so badly.  He wanted to cuss him out and scream at him but the gun pressed to Gene's head was the problem with that... He had to keep his cool until Gene was at least safe.  He knew he wasn't going to give him the sweet relief of a bullet wound though. "Gene, Babe... I'm here." He stated, he didn't know if she'd be able to process it but he hoped she would, Monroe rolling his eyes. "Really...?  Can't you tell how fucked up she is? She don't even know her own fucking name..." He snorted, laughing as he tapped the gun against her head. 'I'm here..' the words lingered as a blur in Gene's mind as she trembled in Monroe's arms... Though, some part of her knew...

[readingfordummies]

Witches of East End - Chapter Three

Home Fires

Old houses had a way of getting under your skin, Joanna Beauchamp knew; not just your skin but into your soul, as well as deep into your pocketbook, challenging reason or logic in an everelusive quest for perfection. Over the years, the Beauchamp homestead, a grand colonial built in the late 1740s with pretty gables and a saltbox roof located right on the beach, in the older part of town, had been modernized in many ways: walls torn down, kitchens moved, bedrooms rearranged. It was a house that had weathered many seasons and storms, and its crumbling walls echoed with memories - the massive brick fireplace had kept them warm for countless winters, the multitude of stains on the marble-topped kitchen counters recalled various cozy meals. The living room floors had been stripped, redone, then stripped again. Now oak, then travertine, currently wood again - a gleaming red cherry. There was a reason old houses were called money pits, white elephants, folly.

Joanna enjoyed putting the house in order on her own. To her, a home renovation was constantly evolving and never quite finished. Plus, she preferred doing it herself; the other week she had personally retiled and grouted the guest bathroom. Today she was tackling the living room. She dipped her roller back into the aluminum tray of paint. The girls would laugh - they teased her for her habit of changing the wall colors several times a year on a whim. One month the living room walls were a dull burgundy, the next a serene blue. Joanna explained to her daughters that living in a still house, one that never changed, was suffocating, and that changing your environment was even more important than changing your clothes. It was summer, hence the walls should be yellow.

She was wearing her usual tromp-about-the-house attire: a plaid shirt and old jeans, plastic gloves, green Hunter boots, a red bandanna over her gray hair. Funny, that gray. No matter how often she dyed her hair, when she woke up in the morning it was always the same color, a brilliant silver shade. Joanna, like her daughters, was neither old nor young, and yet their physical appearances matched to their particular talents. Depending on the situation, Freya could be anywhere from sixteen to twenty-three years of age, the first blush of Love, while Ingrid, keeper of the Hearth, looked and acted anywhere from twenty-seven to thirty-five; and since Wisdom came from experience, even if in her heart she might feel like a schoolgirl, Joanna's features were those of an older woman in her early sixties.

It was good to be home and to have the girls with her. It had been too long and she had missed them more than she would admit. For many years after the restriction had first been enforced, the girls had wandered far and away, alone, directionless, and without purpose, and she could hardly blame them. They checked in only once in a while when they needed something: not just money, but reassurance, encouragement, compassion. Joanna bided her time; she knew the girls liked knowing that no matter where they went - Ingrid had lived in Paris and Rome for much of the last century, while Freya had spent a lot of time in Manhattan lately - their mother would always be at the kitchen counter, chopping onions for stock, and one day they would come home to her at last.

She finished with the far wall and assessed her work. She had chosen a pale daffodil yellow, a very Bouguereau shade: the color of a nymph's smile. Satisfied, she moved on to the other side. As she carefully painted around the window trim, she looked through the glass panels across the sea, to Gardiners Island and Fair Haven. The whirlwind around Freya's engagement had been exhausting, all that bowing and scraping to that Madame Grobadan, Bran's stepmother, who made it clear she thought her boy was too good for Freya. She was happy for her daughter, but uneasy as well. Would her wild girl truly settle down this time? Joanna hoped Freya was right about Bran, that he was the one for her, the one she had been waiting for all these long years.

Not that anyone needed a husband. She should know. Been there, done that. And if some days she felt like a wrinkled up old hag whose insides were are dry as dust, whose skin had not touched that of a man for so long, those were the days when she was just feeling sorry for herself. It wasn't as if she had to be alone; there were many older gentlemen in town who had made it quite clear they would welcome the chance to make her nights less lonely. Yet she was not quite a widow, and she was not quite divorced, which meant she was not quite single or as free as she would like to be. She was separated. That was a good word. They lived separate lives now, and that was how she wanted it.

Her husband had been a good man, a good provider, her rock, when it all came down to it. But he had not been able to help them during the crisis and for that she would never forgive him. Of course it was not his fault, all that madness and bloodshed, but he had not been able to stop the Council from passing down their judgment either, when the dust finally settled and the evil had passed. Her poor girls: she could still see them, their lifeless bodies silhouetted in the dusk. She would never forget it, and even though they had come back relatively unharmed (if one considered being declawed, powerless, and domesticized unharmed) she could not quite find it in her heart to make room for him in her life once again.

"Right, Gilly?" she asked, turning to her pet raven, Gillbereth, who was in the know to her thoughts and was currently hanging on top of the grandfather clock.

Gilly fluffed her wings and craned her long black neck toward the window, and Joanna followed her gaze. When she saw what the raven wanted her to see she dropped her roller, splashing a few drops of paint on the stone floor. She rubbed it with her boot and made it worse.

The raven cawed.

"Okay, okay, I'll go down and check it out," she said, leaving the house through the back door and walking straight down to the dunes. Sure enough, there they were: three dead birds. They had drowned - their feathers were spotted and wet, and the skin around their talons looked burned. Their bodies formed an ugly cross on the perfect stretch of sand.

Joanna looked down at the small, stiff bodies. What a pity. What a waste. They were beautiful birds. Large raptors with pure white breasts and ebony beaks. Ospreys. The birds were native to the area, and a large colony lived on Gardiners Island, where they built their nests right on the beach. The birds were dangerous creatures, natural predators, but vulnerable as all wild creatures were vulnerable to the march of progress and development.

Like her girls, Joanna struggled to obey the bounds of the restriction. They had agreed to accept it in exchange for their immortal lives. The Council had taken their wands and most of their books, burned their broomsticks and confiscated their cauldrons. But more than that, the Council had taken away their understanding of themselves. They had ordered there was no place for their kind in this world with magic, and yet the reality was that there was no place for them without it either.

With her fingers, Joanna began to dig at the wet sand, and gently buried the dead birds. It would have taken only a few words, the right incantation, to bring them back to life, but if she even attempted to use an ounce of her remarkable abilities, who knew what the Council would take away next.

When she returned to the house, she shook her head at the sight of the kitchen. There were dirty pots everywhere, and the girls had taken to using every piece of china and silverware they could get their hands on rather than run the dishwasher, so the sink and the counter were overflowing with a messy jumble of expensive antique porcelain plates. The china closet in the hall was almost empty. If this went on any longer, they would be eating from serving trays next. It would not do. One expected this of Freya, of course, who was used to chaos. Ingrid always looked impeccable and that library of hers was spotless, but the same could not be said for her housekeeping skills. Joanna had raised her girls to be lovely, interesting, as strong in character as in their former talent for witchcraft, and as a consequence they were completely useless in home matters.

Of course, as their mother she was not completely innocent in this field. After all, she could have spent the morning cleaning up rather than painting the living room again. But while she enjoyed refurbishing and renovating, she disliked the daily household chores that kept life on an even keel. Or at least kept it sanitary. She saw Siegfried, Freya's black cat and familiar, slink in through the pet door.

"The girls have invited lots of little mice here for you, haven't they?" She smiled, picking him up and cuddling his soft fur. "Sorry to tell you it's not going to last, liebchen."

For want of a wand, a house was lost, Joanna thought. If she could use magic to clean her house, she would not need a dishwasher. The doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on her jeans and ran to answer it. She opened the door slowly and smiled. "Gracella Alvarez?"

"Si," smiled a small, dark-haired woman standing at the doorway with a little boy.

"Bueno! Come in, come in," Joanna said, sweeping them into the half-painted living room. "Thank you for coming so early. As you can see we really need some help around here," she said, looking at the house as if for the first time. Dust bunnies developed in the corners, large sacks of laundry bloomed in the stairway, the mirrors were so cloudy it had become impossible to see one's reflection.

The agency had recommended the Alvarezes highly. Gracella kept house while her husband, Hector, took care of the grounds, which included the pool, the landscaping, the gardens, and the roof. Gracella explained that her husband was finishing a job out of town but would meet them that afternoon. The family was to stay in the cottage out back, and they had brought their things in the car.

Joanna nodded. "And who's this angel?" she asked, leaning down to tickle the boy's belly. The boy jumped away and flapped his arms, giggling.

"This is Tyler."

At his mother's prompting the boy spoke. "I'm four," he said knowingly, rocking his heels up and down. "Four. Four. Four. Four Four."

"Wonderful." Joanna remembered her own boy, so long ago. She wondered if she would ever see him again.

Tyler's Mickey Mouse T-shirt was stained and his eyes were bright and merry. When Joanna moved to shake his hand he shied away from her but allowed her to pat his head. "Good to meet you, Tyler Alvarez. I'm Joanna Beauchamp. Now, while your mother gets settled, would you like to take a walk down to the beach with me?"

Tyler spent the afternoon running around in circles. Joanna looked at him warmly. Every once in a while he would look over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. He seemed to take to her immediately, which his mother remarked upon before letting him accompany her to the beach. When he got tired of running, they picked seashells together. Joanna found a perfectly formed cockleshell that the boy immediately brought up to his ear. He laughed at the sound and she smiled to see it. Still, she could not help but feel uneasy, even in her delight at her new young friend. It throbbed right underneath the peaceful moment, just below the surface.

There was something not quite right about the three dead birds on the beach this morning, the ones she had buried a little ways away in the sand, but Joanna could not put her finger on it just then. Was it a threat? Or a warning? And for what? And from whom?