#i think i would like to do a belt or pot holders next

[shouts-into-the-void]

Forgot how productive I am on good days. I knit half a scarf this afternoon and managed to leave the house two whole times!

[stufftippywrote]

a suggestion

For @anonprecious on Twitter, who requested a Nielan kiss "as a suggestion" many moons ago. This takes place during the Sunshot campaign, so Mingjue is not yet Xichen's "da-ge."

The Sunshot Campaign has been hard on him.

This Lan Xichen can tell in a single glance. Even if he were meeting Nie Mingjue for the first time and not another in a series of a thousand strategy meetings, he’d be able to tell. The others, maybe not, because Nie Mingjue holds himself so upright, conducts his affairs with a practiced stiffness that discourages anyone from looking deeper. But the signs are there, as he leads the meeting, even if Lan Xichen is the only one who can see them - an exhalation, the grip of his hand on the table loosening, the circles of grey under his eyes.

The strategy session mercifully ends, and the other young military leaders make their way out of the room with all the tireless enthusiasm of youth. Lan Xichen remains. Nie Mingjue sits on a bench with his head low, propped up on one weary palm. He lets out a heavy breath. Lan Xichen approaches him carefully, as though he was a cobra that might strike if disturbed. But Nie Mingjue only looks up at him, and if anything there's relief in his eyes when he sees who's there.

"Xichen," he says, the name breaking halfway through as his voice gives.

"Mingjue-xiong," Lan Xichen returns. Nie Mingjue's shoulders slump. He would never slouch like this in front of his soldiers. It gladdens Lan Xichen's heart to know that this upright general can relax in front of him. He drives himself hard, and he deserves to be able to relax somewhere, with someone. Luckier still that Lan Xichen is that someone.

He steps forward and eases himself onto the bench next to Nie Mingjue. "When was the last time you slept?" he asks.

Nie Mingjue shakes his head and mumbles.

"How about your last meal?" Lan Xichen prods gently.

"I ate." Nie Mingjue evades his gaze.

"When?"

"This morning."

Lan Xichen wants to laugh. This serious, justice-minded man can be as stubborn as a toddler. "Well, you're eating again tonight," he says. “Come to my room, I’ll have dinner brought in for us.”

Nie Mingjue shakes his head, but there’s no conviction in it. “I need to look at these maps,” he says, even as he lets Lan Xichen pull him up and away.

He follows Lan Xichen through the passageways and tents like a guilty schoolboy, and they come at last to Lan Xichen’s quarters, a remarkably lovely room for the temporary nature of it. There’s a low table, some ornaments, an incense holder. Lan Xichen finds a stick and lights it, letting the soft perfume disperse into the room. “Sit,” he urges, and Nie Mingjue follows. “And remove your armor. We won’t be attacked tonight.”

Nie Mingjue grumbles a little at this, but he pulls off the heavy breastplate and belt, letting them sit unceremoniously beside the cushion where he sits. As he does, he can’t help letting out a little groan of relief. Lan Xichen hears it and tries not to smile.

He has food brought; the two eat in relative silence, though Lan Xichen tries to lighten the mood with a few observations about the state of the camp, the little dramas by the younger soldiers that play out under his nose. Nie Mingjue is not really listening, or at least he has nothing to say in response. He just eats -- trying not to appear rushed, though his bites are ravenous -- and “mm”s an assent once in a while. It’s fine. Lan Xichen is just happy to have him there, not behind his desk or hunched over a scroll, peering at faded characters in dim light.

When he’s finished, Nie Mingjue of course tries to get up and go. Lan Xichen is there, with a hand on his arm, tugging him back down. Nie Mingjue glares at him, taken aback. Lan Xichen scoots closer to him, pulling his cushion to sit side-by-side with him, and lets his hand wander down from arm to weathered hand. “Stay for a while,” he urges.

“I have things to do,” Nie Mingjue protests, but Lan Xichen shakes his head gravely. He’s learned from years with his brother that sometimes a protest is also an admission. Nie Mingjue wants to stay. He just needs Lan Xichen to insist.

So he does. “I told you, no one will attack us tonight,” Lan Xichen tells him. “You might as well stay and put your worries aside for a time. I can play for you if it will help ease your mind.” He conjures the silver-blue xiao into being in one hand.

Nie Mingjue looks at it, then at him, and shakes his head firmly. “I don’t need music,” he says.

“A game, then?” Lan Xichen gazes at the shelf, where a worn go board and two pots of stones sit. “Or would you prefer a drink? I can fetch some wine for you…”

“No, no.” Nie Mingjue waves a hand, dismissing both the suggestions. “I need--”

“--to go back to work?” Lan Xichen finishes. “Don’t you think you’ve worked enough for one day?”

“People are fighting and dying while I--” But Nie Mingjue doesn’t have the strength to continue the sentence. He pulls his hand out from under Lan Xichen’s and hides his face in it. “I have to carry on,” he says, his voice muffled. “I have to be strong.”

It’s almost comical. This man, who is the essence of strength to so many people, worrying he cannot be strong. Lan Xichen, not for the first time, envisions taking him in his arms and allowing him to rest there. He wants to be that haven for him. But this moment isn’t about him, and hope is a dangerous creature. He lifts his hand to Nie Mingjue’s back, just daring to stroke it gently, and shakes his head.

“What you have to be is healthy,” he corrects. “What good is a Mingjue-xiong who can barely read a map because he hasn’t slept in days? Without eating, will you have the strength to carry your sword?”

“I’ve eaten,” Nie Mingjue says. “And I can’t sleep.” He sounds weak. Defeated. Lan Xichen’s heart aches.

“Then release your tension,” he advises. “Surely you have a preferred way to do that.”

Nie Mingjue pauses, looks up. “Yes,” he says cautiously, “Battle.”

Lan Xichen almost wants to laugh. “Not battle. Something to calm the spirit and release the resentment. Meditation.” Nie Mingjue scoffs. “Or take to the woods and hunt game. Challenge one of the soldiers at camp to wrestle you. Whatever it is. Do what you need to do so you can return to that war table with your mind and body whole. But leave that saber alone for the night.”

How Lan Xichen despises that saber. It’s a priceless, high-level spiritual weapon, but every time Nie Mingjue wields it, it takes a piece of his soul. Lan Xichen remembers, long ago, a gentle, serious boy who nonetheless loved fiercely -- loved his brother, loved his friends, loved the trees and the sky. Loved justice, and he still does, but his love used to come with a brash grin and a light in his eyes. That saber, and this war, have crushed that.

There are several long seconds of silence. Nie Mingjue appears to be thinking. Lan Xichen can usually tolerate extended silence, but now, the quiet unnerves him. He has no idea how Nie Mingjue will respond. He sits as one would sit upon a cushion of pins, uncomfortable and itching to move.

But eventually Nie Mingjue seems to shake himself out of it, and catches Lan Xichen’s gaze with his own. There’s something soft in his eyes, and also something like interest. It’s a rare, unguarded look -- and it makes Lan Xichen catch his breath. “Do you have any other suggestions?” Nie Mingjue asks, and there’s something in his voice not unlike humor.

“Women?” Lan Xichen is hardly the person to suggest it, but he knows that’s a preferred tactic for many a soldier. “We could ride to the nearest town. Find a girl who’s willing.” Or for sale. Lan Xichen isn’t about to cast aspersions in the heat of war.

“Not interested.”

NIe Mingjue looks ready to check out again. Lan Xichen stumbles over himself in an effort to keep his attention. “Then -- then men, if that’s your preference,” he says.

But he gets a glare in return. “I’m not taking a stranger to bed.”

The words strike Lan Xichen funny. There’s nothing odd about them, surely, but between the lines there’s something to discover. First, that he didn’t immediately say he wasn’t interested in men, which is the reaction that question would get from many a soldier. And he made it sound like there was someone he’d consider -- someone he already knows. A bright spark of hope lights up in his chest. Is it possible? “Then--” he says. Carefully.

Nie Mingjue eyes him. This time it isn’t the angry glare, but a sort of caution -- as though he half-expects Lan Xichen to make some move. Again, that spark of optimism catches in Lan Xichen’s chest. Perhaps it would be okay if…

He leans in, lifts his hand to that weathered face. “If that’s how you feel,” he says, leaning closer to Nie Mingjue than he’s ever been, “then…”

He’s very careful as he presses his lips to Nie Mingjue’s closed mouth. Afraid to drive him away.

He isn’t driven away. Paralyzed, perhaps, as Lan Xichen pulls back again and gazes at him as beatifically as he can muster. Shocked, if the wide eyes and the slight part of his lips are anything to go by. But he doesn’t flee. Or pull back, or get up. He just stares, and slowly lifts a hand to his own lips.

“If you are interested,” Lan Xichen says, barely above a whisper.

And then Nie Mingjue lifts an eyebrow, and the corners of his lips twitch. “Really?” he asks, sounding incredulous.

Lan Xichen shrugs. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“A suggestion--” The words echoed back at him are devoid of any artifice. The Nie Mingjue before him is the boy Lan Xichen knew all those years ago. The one capable of so much love. Any shame or trepidation that Lan Xichen felt at offering that kiss vanishes. What he wanted to communicate, he has. Be the consequences what they may.

“Or we could play go,” he says, truly meaning it. Whatever he needs, Lan Xichen is willing and happy to give.

“Let’s do that.” Nie Mingjue says with some determination. Lan Xichen nods. Perhaps he feels a bit of disappointment, but not enough to regret what he’s done.

As he rises to bring the board and stones to the table, Nie Mingjue surprises him once more.

“Make your suggestion again afterwards,” he says.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 8

Pairings: (Past) Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past) Henry Cavill x Reader, Chibs x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, PTSD, abandonment, another dick move on Henry’s part.

Word Count: 6,114

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

A/N 2: Yea, I had fun with this one. Sorry, not sorry.

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

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

Negan had seen you pissed before, hell, he’d seen you down right livid. But he had never, ever seen you so furious you refused to even talk to him. He looked over at you with a small, tight smile as you walked into your messy kitchen, but you didn’t even glance at him as you bee lined past him to grab two coffee mugs from the cabinet.

“Morning, princess.” He dared, but he instantly shut up when you shot him a look that spoke volumes. “(Y/N)...”

“Save it.” You grumbled as you grabbed two K cups from the box on the counter and picked up the entire Keurig as silent punishment. He sighed loudly as you walked back out of the room past Simon, who took one look at the coffee maker in your arms and over at the spot it lived in on your counter, before shaking his head.

“Does the other house have a coffee pot still, or did she take that, too?” He asked with a glance to his boss, who was watching you walk up the stairs back to your room without a second glance.

“I fucked up with her, didn’t I?” You heard Negan ask his second in command before you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you.

“Ye took the whole damn thing?” Chibs whisper yelled as you headed into the bathroom to set the Keurig down.

“There’s a pot in the carriage house.” You said back with a shrug as you plugged your machine in. “I don’t feel sorry for them.”

“Cold hearted.” He chuckled as he made sure the pillows were all around the co sleeper and that Celeste was OK before coming into the bathroom. “No cream?”

“You get it black, or you can go down and deal with my father to get it, your call.”

“Yea, I’m no’ goin’ down ta flaunt the fact tha’ I stayed ‘ere over nigh’ to ‘im anytime soon.” He sighed as he partially closed the water closet door to use the bathroom.

“If it helps at all, he now knows better than to lay so much as a finger on you.”

“It does not.”

“Well you don’t have to see him for a week anyways, so it’s fine.” You said as you stepped over to turn on the shower while the first cup was brewing. “Besides, I need an escort through IRA territory and I’m not trusting my daughter’s life to a prospect. I have a lot of errands to do in the next couple days...”

“Luv...” You looked over at him with your eyebrow raised before following his gaze down to the tattoo on your rib cage that no one but him would know the true meaning of just by looking at it. He smirked as you moved your arm out of the way, and shook his head. “Ye did say ye’d never let me live it down...”

“You tore apart my garden for those lilacs, Filip.” You giggled as you looked at the bouquet of purple flowers in a metal milk can with a tartan patterned bow around it that represented his last name.

“Couldn’t show up empty ‘anded now, could I?”

“No, that wouldn’t have been right.” You whispered even softer as he stepped forward to brush his thumb across the bow.

“Does yer da’...”

“No one knows what it means.” You said with a shake of your head as you shivered from the goosebumps racing across your skin. “Negan asked if it was for my mom when he first saw it because lilacs were her favorite too, and I just nodded and walked away.”

“It’s beautiful.” He said with a glance up at you. “Much more elegant than mine.”

“You got a tattoo for me?”

“Subtle.” He said as he held up his left hand and stuck out his ring finger. “Black band, but your name wore off the side.”

“You’re so cute.” You giggled as you ran your fingertip across what was left of your name. “Who did it? Because that would have gotten back to Negan...”

“I did.” He said as he looked at the left over ink. “Did a stint in prison for possession seven or eight years back. Anniversary’a the last time I saw ye. Took all nigh’ bu’ I needed the pain.”

“We’ll get it re done soon if you want.” You promised as you turned on the water and stepped inside. “Coming? We have a lot of things to do today.”

“So no time for a quickie?” He teased before taking a sip of his coffee, starting yours, and stepping out of his boxers.

“What kinda girl do you think I am?” You teased as you shook an old, nearly empty bottle of shampoo to finish it off. “I wasn’t that easy back then, and as a mother and a woman of class...”

“Oh, shut it.” He laughed as he wrapped his arms your waist and pulled you into his chest. He kissed you gently as you went from washing your hair to washing his, just appreciating being together again. You couldn’t stop your mind from racing in a thousand different directions as he gently lifted you up and pinned you against the wall to slide into you, but by the time you both came, you realized that for the first in twelve years you truly felt safe. You felt at home.

“I still love you.” You said softly as you laid your head down on his chest. “I never stopped…”

“Was I supposed ta stop lovin’ ye?” He asked as he ran his fingers through your hair. “‘Cause even after all the shite I went through, I’d do it all over ‘gain to ‘ave ye in m’life.”

“You can protect me from the big bad world.” You said with a smile as you looked up at him. “I’ll protect you from Negan.”

“I may actually let ye do tha’, lass.” He said as he quickly washed his body off and stepped out of the way for you. “Yer da’s terrifyin’ when it comes ta ye.”

“My dad may think he’s a hard ass, but that man knows that I’m the one in charge no matter how much he doesn’t want to admit it. And he also knows at this point, now that he knows I know what he did, if he so much as lays a finger on you, I’m done... permanently. So being with me is as safe as you’ll ever be when it comes to my dad.”

“Tha’s somethin’ I’m really nervous ta test.”

“I can solve it today.” You said with a bob of your head as you turned off the water. “Because while I know he will never, ever admit it to anyone, possibly including me, he regrets what he did now that he’s been busted for it. And he didn’t feel shame for it until he saw the look in my eyes. Because it’s a look that instantly reminded him of my mom, and I know he can hear her freaking out at him in his memories.”

“It’s so strange ta see ‘im through yer eyes, my luv.” He huffed as he grabbed his coffee and went out to throw his clothes on from the day before. “Instead of as m’President.”

“Yea, it’s still entertaining to see him try to be ‘big bad Negan’ all these years later when I know the softie he can be since I actually remember it from when I was a kid… shit, I really don’t wanna wake her up…”

“Rip off the bandaid.”

“But she’s so cute…”

“Rip off the bandaid.” He repeated as he fastened his belt. “Ye said ye had a lot ta do, an’ tha’ ye wan’ed ‘er on Belfast time.”

“Son of a bitch.” You grumbled as you threw on a nursing tank, and a big, loose sweater over your leggings. You grabbed something cute for Celeste, that would keep her warm through out the day, and pouted at her as you kneeled on the bed and simply picked her up. “Oh, Mommy’s sorry.” You cooed as she instantly started to whine in sheer exhaustion. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know.”

“She’s cute until she screams.” Chibs teased as he sat down on the bed to put his boots on. “Then she just reminds me of you.”

“Fuck you.” You said in a sing song voice. He chuckled and threw on his kutte before putting her car seat on the bed for you. “Yes, I know, Mommy’s mean. But you can sleep in the car, baby girl.”

“I’m guessin’ yer kidnappin’ me like old times?” He asked as he took the dirty diaper from you and got up to toss it in the diaper genie you had put in your bathroom the night before.

“Well obviously, I’m a defenseless first time Mommy that needs a big strong man to protect her and her adorable little girl.”

“Well now I jus’ ‘ave ta protect such a beautiful woman, and this cute little screamin’ bundle’a joy.”

“Oh, we are as much of a morning person as Mommy is.” You said as you grabbed his hand and put it on her stomach so you could pack your diaper bag for what you needed for the day.

“Oh, we’re jus’ no’ ‘avin’ a good mornin’.” He said as he picked her up and walked over to your bedroom window. He talked to her like he had known her throughout your whole pregnancy and her whole, short existence, instead of only a few hours. He got her to sniffle her way to a comfortable spot on his shoulder as you took out what you didn’t need and replaced what you needed to. You silently glared at him as his humming put her right back to sleep, and he moved at nearly a glacial pace to lay her down in the carseat. “I’m good wit’ kids.”

“Fuck outta here.” You huffed as you threw on your boots and grabbed your diaper bag and coffee. “Alright, you carry her. He’s less likely to hit you if you’re holding her.”

“No’ reassuring.” He muttered as he checked his pockets to make sure he had everything, before putting the car seat down just long enough to put his gun in the holder under his kutte. “Safety’s on, don’ worry.” With a roll of your head, you threw your bag on your shoulder, and lead him out the room with a sigh.

“Telford!” Negan yelled the moment you walked out the door, but you could see the flash of fear in his eyes when he realized you were headed straight for him.

“You have two choices here.” You said where only he could hear you as you stopped directly beside him, but looking out at the lake behind him. “You have the choice to try to take him out of my life for whatever fucking reason you could come up with. Or you have the choice to be my fucking father and fight for me to be happy with someone with as good of heart as he has to step up and protect my daughter the same way you protected me after everything I’ve been through. And we both know he wouldn’t have patched if he wasn’t a good person.” You glanced up at him with tears in your eyes, and you could see your dad, the man that only you really got to see looking back at you. 

“Just know, I won’t stop fighting for him this time. You got lucky with Henry falling in my lap at just the right time and my research taking off the way it did. But you won’t be this time. And keep in mind, he and I both have to live with the physical proof of what you’ve done to us for the rest of our lives which is exactly why I can honestly say that if you try, you will lose everything. So you make the choice.” You looked back out at the lake with a sniff as you put your sunglasses on, while Negan took barely a half second to weight the options of loosing you, or seeing you with Chibs before he straightened beside you.

“Telford, get that baby outta the fucking cold. The fuck you standing there for, huh? And make sure my kid doesn’t get lost in some Goddamn throw pillows or whatever shit she’s got planned in that fucking head of hers for this place. Or better yet, make sure that she doesn’t lose her damn kid in throw pillows.” You nodded your head and went to walk away, but Negan quickly grabbed your arm and held you in one spot. You met his eyes for a few moments, letting him apologize ten times over in a simple look, and you choose to partially let him off the hook.

“Get the fucking prospects to return those vans before you get charged another day’s rental. We’ll talk later.” He nodded his head and leaned over to kiss your forehead, before letting you go to yell at the prospects and regain his control of his men.

“Wha’ did ye say ta ‘im?” Chibs asked softly as you set your diaper bag on the floor board and peeked in the back to make sure the only thing that was back there was your stroller frame.

“I told him to make a choice.” You said as you carefully shut the back door, and pulled open the passenger door. “And he made the right one.”

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

“This place looks like it fucking threw up Christmas.” Your dad grumbled to you with a shake of his head as you walked through your professionally decorated house after spending a week on the road dealing with some club shit you didn’t even care to ask about.

“It’s Celeste’s first Christmas.” You started as you looked at the sparkling entry way proudly. “And our first one not spent in a portable in years. And you know I love Christmas. Oh, and I finally got confirmation that Colson, Casie, and Emma are coming for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so it had to be even more perfect. Ash and Ashton, too.”

“You got the fucking prospects to do all this shit?”

“Fuck no.” You laughed with a shake of your head. “I hired a company. The prospects are wrapping gifts in the carriage house because fuck knows I hate doing that shit. Paper cuts.” You said with a smirk as you looked over at him. “Not pleasant. They can do the bitch work.”

“Where’s Telford?”

“Why?” You asked as the smile fell from your face.

“Need to talk to him... and you, since I know you will never trust me in a room with him again.”

“With good reason.” You said as you gestured to the stairs. “Setting up my baby monitors in the nursery while Celeste tries out her new crib for nap time. Oh, Ash is heading over to the house later today to send me some shit I need to hang out here a while longer. Do you need anything?”

“I’m heading back day after New Years.” He said with a shake of his head and a heartbroken sigh. “I lost you because of this, didn’t I?” You hesitated for a moment and sighed loudly with a small nod of your head.

“You changed my whole life with your actions, Daddy. And his even more so. You may be the president of an MC, but you are still my father. And whether you liked it or not, you had no right to do what you did, no matter what the reason. Whether it be to keep ahold of your image, or to keep me closer to home, it doesn’t matter. You had no right. So yes, in a sense, you lost me- my trust is gone. But you are still my father, and I will always love you. So in that sense, I will still be here. You’ll see me, and Celeste, and I will always be here if you need me... but we will never have the same relationship we did because of this.” You looked over at him as a few tears fell from his eyes, and his sighed as his whole body sank with the weight of his actions.

“Your mother would be so proud of you.” He started as he looked over at you with a shake of his head. “But I would have lost her over this, too, so I understand.” As gently as he could, he reached out to pull you into a hug. “I’m sorry, princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know, Daddy.” You whispered back as you started to tear up as well. You both stood there for a moment, completely ignoring Simon, and the Belfast charter’s president, Jax when they walked in to talk to him, but they turned right back around to give you your space as Negan pulled away and nodded his head.

“Can I go talk to him?” He asked as he wiped off his face. “I’ll leave my gun with you, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I’ll come up with you.” You said as you wiped off your own face with your fingertips. “You can use my room while I get Celeste up from her nap so we can go find a caterer last minute for Christmas Eve. And the gun can stay in the hall.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He agreed before gesturing you toward the stairs. You headed through the new baby gate, and up the right side of the split staircase toward the only two rooms on that end of the house, before telling Negan to wait in the hall so you could pre-warn Chibs.

“Hey, my dad wants to talk to you.” His head whipped away from his phone where he was adjusting the views of the cameras, but you nodded at him, reassuringly. “It’s OK. His gun’s staying in the hall. It’s not a bad talk, I promise.”

“‘S’more the knives tha’ got my concern.” He said as he picked up a piece of paper with the app information. “Username is yer email, password’s Celeste123107.”

“You think you’re slick.” You laughed, since the date was the day you two met.

“I thought so.” He said with a small smile as he headed out of the room, stepping over the hand gun that was laying just outside the doorway. You added the app to your phone and signed into your account to check the cameras yourself while the two men went into your room to talk, before walking over to the bed to wake up your baby girl.

“Hello, punk-a-pie.” You cooed as you gently rubbed her back. “Hi, good morning. It’s time to join the world of the living so we can go for another fun adventure. Yea.” She actually grunted at you in protest when you picked her up, and you smiled at just how adorable she was. “Oh, I know it. It’s just so hard to be a baby with such a mean Mommy. Waking you up from naps, and feeding you, and changing you all the time. How could I be so thoughtless, hmm? But that means I get to eat these chunky little thighs. And theses cute little toes-ies.” You smiled as she burst into a fit of giggles on the changing pad when you playfully ‘bit’ her toes. “Oh, I could just eat you up! Yes I could. Fuck, I’m glad you got Mommy’s chunky thighs. They are just so damn cute.”

“I second that.” Chibs said as he walked back into the room a lot faster than you expected, while Negan simply headed down stairs to find out what Simon and Jax wanted. You looked over at him questioningly as you pushed the dirty diaper into the diaper pail, but he shook his head. “Nothin’ bad. Apologized for everythin’, gave me direct permission ta go Nomad a’while ta be wit’ you. Told me ta take care of his girls.”

“He knows he lost me.” You said with a nod as you re-buttoned the long sleeve onesie and put your daughter’s jeans back on. “He knows there’s no coming back from this now. He made his bed, and he has to sleep in it and what are you doing?!”

“I bought this for ye 12 years ago.” He said as he stood beside you at the changing table where you were now frozen half way of putting Celeste in her jacket to look at a gorgeous ring in a black box. “An’ the day aft’a ye came back, when I knew ye still luved me, too, I ‘ad the prospect start puttin’ t’get’a the legal paperwork for the courts. Because I lost ye once, an’ I’d rath’a die then lose ye ‘gain. So on New Years Eve, at the exact stroke of midnight, 12 long fuckin’ years aft’a it shoulda ‘appended in the first place, will ye please, please make me the luckiest son’ov’a bitch in the entire world an’ marry...”

“Yes.”

“Can I fuckin’ finish the...”

“No.” You laughed as you leaned over and kissed him roughly. He smiled against your lips and held you in place for a moment, before pulling back with a shake of his head.

“I was gon’ wait until the day of.” He said as he pulled the ring free while you finished dressing your now impatient daughter. “But wit’ yer dad’s blessin’... shockin’, I know.” He laughed as he took your left hand and slid the ring in place. “But we ‘ave it. An’ I wasn’t waitin’ another moment.”

“I don’t blame you.” You laughed as you looked at the ring that felt so much more right than the last one that was placed there, before showing Celeste with a smile. “Look at that, baby girl. Mommy’s getting married. And if he wants to, Chibs can become Daddy all in the same swing.”

“I’d be honored.” You nodded over at him with a laugh as you put on Celeste’s ear warmer headband bow.

“We’re just gunna wait until after Christmas to let her birth father know that all the same.”

“Aye. Don’ feel like havin’ ta fight for both m’girls in the same month.”

“What would you have done if he had said no?” Your fiancé smirked as he checked your diaper bag for you and put it on his shoulder.

“We would’a eloped. But now, ‘e can bear witness, ‘long wit’ Jackie boy, an’ this little chubby thighed cutie.”

“Well now you’ve just sent me into overdrive.” You laughed as you buckled Celeste in her car seat, and wrapped her in the car seat blanket you had. “Because now, after the caterer, I need to find a dress, and a location...”

“I’ve it all figured out.” He interrupted as he took the car seat from you. “Except the dress. My club may be loyal ta Negan, but I’ve broth’a’s a’ the table tha’ want ta see a broth’a happy ‘a the end’a the day.”

“Well then you can come with me to the caterer, then I’ll drop you and Celeste back off so you don’t see me in the dress. We’ve finally got some good luck going for us here.”

“Sounds like a plan ta me, my luv. Sounds like a plan to me.”

——

You had always imagined that you would be nervous on your wedding day, but as you stood in a private room in a church of all places that meant a lot to your future husband, you didn’t feel anything but excited. You tried to keep everything simple, but still put the prospects and your decorating company through the ringer to pull off a dream shared across cotton sheets that Chibs insisted you deserved, and had already been planning as long as he had the paperwork to pull off, even if it was for the ranks of the Sanctuary’s unwashed heathens.

“You know, I never thought you’d actually get to this point.” Ashleigh said as she adjusted her silver dress around her hips. “I figured when you got engaged to Henry, you were gunna get to the actual planning of the wedding and just… not. And I definitely didn’t think you’d do it this fast.”

“Henry isn’t my Filip.” You said with a look over at her as you finished a braid of your updo and pinned it on to place. 

“Yea, but don’t you think this is a little fast?”

“Ash, I really wish I could explain this… Look, I loved Henry. I did. He was smart, and, funny, and kind. He supported my work, and didn’t mind my eccentricities… but he tried to change me. He tried to pull me away from my dad, to get me away from my club. He wanted us to move to England… and all of those things I would have considered because he made me feel comfortable. But then he took it upon himself to join the Army without a single word until the day he left, and he made that choice because he needed space to think things with me through. Yea, the things you learn after the fact. That was a nice ‘good to see ya after six years’ message.

But Filip, my Filip, the one that got away… He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe to let my guard down, and to not be this… always put together Nobel prize winning, Ph. D. three times over doctor all the time. He brings out an innocence that I’ve never gotten to experience because I was looking out for my dad, or drowning myself in my work, or because I was more focused on being the best astrophysicist this world had ever seen. He makes me laugh harder than anyone ever has in my life. He doesn’t just mind my eccentricities, he embraces them, and shows them off like a badge of honor. He doesn’t just make excuses for those times I have my ‘moments’ as Henry called them in public. He sacrificed being truly happy in life to make sure that I had the best life that I could. And I can’t lose that man from my life again. I can live without Henry. I can’t live without Filip.” You smiled as you picked up your silver and ice blue snowflake hair piece and turned in the mirror to see what you were doing to put it on. “And besides the fact, he hasn’t batted an eye over Celeste. Henry literally ran, and put her in the NICU for a month.”

“OK, he didn’t put her in the NICU.”

“He put me in a position that put her in the NICU.” You said as you glanced over at the clock. “But it doesn’t matter. None of that matters anymore. What matters is that the man that I was meant to be with years ago, is somewhere in this church, putting on a tie for me, and a suit that he wouldn’t be caught dead in otherwise for me, and has me excited to get married in a church of all places, without even questioning ‘God’ and all that entails. What matters is he is the love of my life… and after today, he will be mine.” Ash nodded her head slowly as she fixed your hair the slightest bit and tried to avoid eye contact in the mirror.

“(Y/N), I think...”

“Hey, Princess. You’re runnin’…” Negan interrupted as he knocked on the door while he pushed it open, and he stopped and smiled as he looked at you. “Well Goddamn.”

“You’re in a church, mister.” You reminded him, teasingly as you turned and pulled the mostly white, with a double layer of light blue tulle skirt around so it was straighter behind you. “Not supposed to swear in a church.”

“Yea, yea.” He grumbled. “Old, new, borrowed, blue, right?”

“I’ve got ‘em all covered, Daddy.” You said as you watched him walk over with something in his hand.

“Well I’m still replacing your old with mine.” He said as he held out his hand to you. Your brow furrowed until you saw the glimpse of a silver heart locket on a chain. “I don’t have to even ask if you know what it is…”

“It’s mom’s.” You said with a smile as you flipped it over with your thumb. “She wore it on your wedding day.”

“Always said she’d pass it down to a daughter. Nearly made Ash miss her fucking flight looking for it. You know I can’t remember where I put shit for shit.”

“Will you quit swearing and put on the damn necklace.” You laughed as you held it out to him. “Racing a clock here.”

“Yea, yea.” He chuckled as he put the finishing touch on your wedding day outfit. He took a step back and huffed with a small shake of his head. “You make a beautiful bride, baby girl.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Now Ash, what were you saying?”

“Oh, it’s... it’s nothing.” She said with her own smile as she handed you your bouquet of blue roses that had a dark blue bandana you borrowed from Chibs wrapped around the bottom stems. With a nod, you looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, before looking back at your dad.

“You ready?” Negan asked with a small smirk.

“More than.” With a nod, he held out his arm and led you out of the back room. “Damn it, can we just speed up the clock.” You joked as you carefully and subtly kicked out the front of your gown with each step so you would trip or rip it.

“Quit fuckin’ swearing.” Negan laughed as Ashleigh walked a little faster to get next to you.

“(Y/N), I think I made a huge mistake.” She repeated, timidly at the same time you watched Henry looking up from your sleeping little girl in her snow queen dress and a giant blue bow you prayed would muffle the noise so she could stay asleep next to Ashton in their winter wonderland decorated wagon, and over at you. There was only a moments hesitation as you ran through the list of women from the club that had come to see you as you were getting ready to wish you the best before you reacted.

“Daddy, go get Frankie.” You asked, simply as you let go of his arm for a moment. “She’s got on black and silver, so she won’t clash with the colors when she pulls the wagon.”

“(Y/N)...” Ashleigh choked as you simply ignored your ex standing there and stopped in front of the back doors.

“You are dead to me.” You said to her as you fixed your own dress and forced yourself to remain calm. “Get your son, the prospect will take you back to the hotel for your things and you can go.”

“(Y/N)...” She and Henry said at the same time, which made you round on both of them with fire in your eyes.

“I don’t know what either of you thought you were trying to accomplish here, but I’m not in the fucking mood. You, Henry, I can sort of understand because we were together so long, and you’re just hoping that maybe, just maybe I’d be willing to give you a third chance after every thing you have put me through, but Ash...? What the actual fuck. Seriously, how did you think that calling my ex in on my fucking wedding day was going to go over, huh? Good? Simple? Not likely to royally piss me the fuck off?!”

“I was just trying...”

“Well now you can just try to get the fuck out of here before I fucking strangle you on my fucking wedding day. And Henry, I have nothing more to say to you. You’ve made it perfectly clear that I am not the person you want to be with. And I am sick and fucking tired of compromising my integrity to fit into your perfect wife narrative when I met someone 12 fucking years ago that never wanted anyone but me in the first place and still does all these years later. So you both can leave. Frankie, I need you to pull my flower girl down the aisle for me.” 

“(Y/N)...” Ashleigh said as she carefully picked up Ashton.

“I said NOW!” You roared with a glance back at her. “Now! I will get you home, but you are dead to me. Frankie, it’s fine, just pull her down behind you, put her in front of my dad’s seat so you can take my bouquet, and when it gets to the count down, bring the wagon back here to try to keep her away from the noise.” You told your new Maid of Honor as you fixed your dress again. You didn’t look back as the prospect that had been watching the kids escorted Ashleigh and Henry out of the church despite their protests, but your dad stopped in front of you with a look of concern.

“You need a minute?”

“I need Filip.” You said as you searched his eyes with barely a hint of tears in yours. He nodded his head and told Frankie to go, as he walked around behind you and helped you pull out your ball gown so it made the perfect bell shape.

“What have I always told you about writing off family?”

“Fuck them if they don’t understand.”

“Exactly.” He said as he laced your arm with his. “Fuck ‘em. Now quit swearing in a fucking church.”

“Daddy, we’re both going to hell anyways.” You giggled with a glance up at him. “But I’m pretty sure we just gave ourselves the best seats on the bus.”

“Fucking right we did.” He laughed as you both took the first step down the aisle. You found Filip instantly, and watched as his eyes shifted from anger directed at Henry’s back, to concern when he saw your face. You tried to tell him that you were alright, but you could tell he didn’t believe it until you were directly in front of him with your hand finally in his.

“We’re getting married today.” You whispered with a smile as you reached up with your free hand to cup his cheek. “I’m OK. I’m finally where I’m meant to be. With you.” With a nod of his head, knowing that you would never lie to him, he leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead with a sigh of relief. The ceremony was kept short by design, since it was nearly midnight, and while there was talk of God, you barely noticed it because of the man who could not stop smiling in front of you with matching tears of joy in his eyes. You stuck with generic vows, because neither of you would have made it through writing your own, and your first attempt at saying ‘I do’ came out as a choked whisper, which made his smile grow even more.

“By the power vested in me by God and man...” The priest said as the club counted down the New Year for you. “I pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. You may now kiss the bride.”

“I told you I’d marry you one day.” You whispered softly in the last few seconds.

“Finally.” Filip whispered back as he wrapped his arms around your middle and kissed you like it was the first time at exactly midnight, just like he had the night you first met in the shadows of the Belfast clubhouse. The club erupted in cheers as you held your husband’s cheeks between both hands, while the priest presented Mr. and Mrs. Filip Telford over the noise and left to get some sleep before his morning church service. You both pulled back with smiles, and you took your bouquet from Negan, who’s face read happiness and sadness at the same time.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” He said softly as he kissed your cheek before you left, since you agreed to do the reception the next night when you could get a sitter for Celeste and so the club could still celebrate the New Year. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.” You responded with a smile. With a nod of his head, he stepped out of your way so you could head out the back to collect your daughter and spend your first night as husband and wife making love until the sun came up.

[aquagirl1978]

Today @violettduchess gave me the most wonderful gift - she wrote me Sevastian fic (with a bit of Geralt tossed in there for good humor). I was in tears - it was so sweet and funny and just a really great story. I loved it so much she gave me permission to share this here. 

EDIT - I loved it so much I made this quick doodle to go along with this special story (scroll to the end of the story to see the image)

Inside the snow-kissed cabin, Sevastian leaned back, savoring the feel of the soft linen bedsheets against his skin. He was nude, of course, and he wore his nudity the same way he wore the silken garments of the Prince Consort: easily, effortlessly.

Outside the snow lazily made its way down, circling this way and that, dusting the tree branches and foliage with frosty kisses before eventually finding a final resting place to settle, adding to the blanket of white that was steadily growing thicker.

His pale eyes were trained on his wife as she knelt by the stove, poking at the fire. He admired the way her loose mane of auburn hair drank in the light, as if it too wanted to be as close to her as possible. With a practiced hand, she shoved the iron poker into the softly glowing pieces of wood, the remnants of the logs he had carried in earlier that evening.

“You’re staring“, she said, without turning around, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

“Can you blame me?“, he answered, his lips tilting up in a grin. “Not many in the Kingdom are treated to a glimpse of their Queen like this.“

She leaned back, satisfied with her work before closing the oven door and setting the poker back into its iron-wrought holder. Turning, he was met with the familiar smile he cherished above all other things.

“Their Queen stoking a fire?“ She made her way back toward the bed, matching the grin on his face with one of her own. She perched on its edge, her gaze warming him more than the glowing embers as it ran over the length of him.

“Their Queen”, he said as he pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching out to touch the soft ends of her hair, “disheveled”, his hand skimmed its way up her arm to her shoulder, “and love-bruised from her husband’s adorations.” His fingers, cool and gentle, traced over the love-bites above her collarbone. She laughed, his favorite sound, catching his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers as they curled around hers.

“You have been a most attentive subject”, she said, her voice laced through with affection. “This respite from royal duty was certainly one of your better ideas.”

He smiled, soft and certain as he reached for her, tugging her toward him as he fell back. “Then come here and continue to thank me for my cleverness”. His hands were already pushing the soft, sage green dressing gown off of her shoulders as she braced herself above him, her red hair falling over them, curtaining their faces as she kissed him. He was struck by the feeling of

how familiar her kiss was and yet how a kiss from her always felt like the gateway to something new, how it never failed to breathe life to the spark inside him that burned only for her.

“My Queen is stoking something else”, he breathed, his whole body alight as she pressed kisses to the pale skin of his neck, his own hands moving over her as if they had a life of their own, desperately trying to touch her anywhere and everywhere at once.

He nearly had her out of that blasted, heavy robe when a loud knocking cut through the sounds of their whispered sighs. Their eyes met. Only a select few knew they were here and they had been told only to disturb them if things were truly dire.

She pushed away from him, off the bed and the cold in her wake felt like it was seeping into his very bones. With a soft curse on his lips, he swung his long legs over the side and made quick work of pulling on his leather pants and white tunic. His wife was belting her robe tightly about her waist. She started for the door but he moved faster, stepping in front of her.

“Allow me”, he said softly. Her eyes dropped to his hand where he was already grasping the hilt of one of his silver daggers. Only the thin press of her lips together showed her annoyance at not being allowed to answer but she was a Queen, she belonged to the realm as well as him. However the loss of certain

freedoms still vexed her.

Sevastian opened the door and his silver eyes traveled up until they met gold. Specifically a tall, broad-shouldered man with eyes the color of the gilding on the throne. His white hair camouflaged the snow, but more of it had settled on his black cloak. The wind whipped around him as he took a moment to size the prince up. His gaze lingered a moment on the dagger held so casually in Sevastian’s hand.

“Good evening. I’m sorry to bother you but the lights from your cabin were visible through the trees. I was hoping you might have a place for a traveler where I could wait out the worst of this snowfall.” 

Sevastian kept his expression schooled as he looked over the stranger. He was a fighter, that much was clear. Even the dim light from inside the cabin, struggling to illuminate the stranger in the grey, snow-filled gloom, couldn’t hide the way he held himself, the square of his shoulders, the cautious way his golden eyes were taking in what he could see of the cabin’s interior,

assessing.

“Ah fuck”, the man muttered. “You’re here with your partner. I’m sorry. I’ll go and—”

“Nonsense”.

Sevastian fought back the cringe that threatened to break his cool expression as his wife walked over, pulling the door open wider and motioning for the man to come in. “It’s cold out there and you need shelter. We’re happy to accommodate you.”

The big man glanced at Sevastian who merely stepped aside, though his hand was still gripping his dagger, tension running through him like currents of water.

She was already pulling out a chair at their small dining table, setting down a wooden bowl and spoon.

There goes the remainder of their rabbit stew, he thought with irritation. The man had removed his cloak, revealing two swords strapped to his broad back. As if sensing Sevastian’s gaze, he reached back, removing them as well and leaned them against the wooden wall.

“Thank you”, he said, his voice deep and, admittedly pleasant to listen to. He wondered if the man would recognize the Queen or even himself, but his face remained unaware, relaxed even as she spooned some of the warm stew into the bowl.

“Thank you?”, he turned, looking from her to him, searching for ways to address them.

“Sev. And this is my wife. Bunny.” No need to give her real name. No one should know the ruler of the kingdom was esconded away in a secluded cabin in the wilds.

She shot him a Look, her eyes widening ever so slightly, enough for him, who knew her face as well as any astronomer knows the stars, to see her surprise. The corner of his mouth tilted ever so slightly up.

“I am”, the man spoke in-between hearty spoonfuls of stew, “Geralt. Of Rivia.” He paused. “I’m….uh….a bard.”

Her eyebrows shot up and he knew his own face matched hers. The name of the land was unfamiliar to them both. And no bard he knew travelled so well armed. Sevastian slowly moved away from the wall, setting his dagger down on the table where it could be seen. A silent reminder. A warning.

“I have not heard of Rivia.”

Geralt swallowed, the muscles of his neck looking to be as strong as the corded forearms that were resting on the table.

“I….do not doubt it. Let’s just put it this way. Don’t piss off a sorceress.”

His wife settled herself into the chair beside him, amused. Sevastian could see she was burning to ask the stranger more but the tone of his voice was a portcullis, clearly not welcoming any inquistions. He lowered himself into a chair next to hers.

Once his bowl was empty, the tension in Geralt’s body began to slowly unspool itself as he looked around the small cabin, his strange, golden eyes curious.

“You a woodsman?”

Sevastian bit back a snort just as his wife kicked him not so delicately under the table.

“Of sorts”, he managed, biting back a grin.

Geralt’s gaze landed on the dagger, still lying openly on the table. “That’s fine craftsmanship for a woodsman’s blade.”

His eyes met Sevastian’s again, gold on silver. Neither one completely trusted the other.

As always, she knew what to do. Clearing away his bowl, she gestured to the two massive swords leaning against the wall. “Your blades are equally impressive, sir…..for a bard.”

He grunted, looking back towards Sevastian. The Winter Prince was watching him closely, still seated. His posture looked relaxed, almost lazy, but underneath tension coiled through him, ready to move the minute he sensed danger. Geralt stood up slowly, stepping away from the

table. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

Sevastian stood slowly as he walked to the door, watched as Geralt slipped his swords back into their scabbards strapped on his back. His wife came over as well, holding something small, wrapped in a piece of linen.

“Some bread and dried meat for your journey. May you find your way home, Geralt of Rivia. “

Geralt took the bundle gratefully. “Thank you Bunny.” His tone was serious, sincere. Sevastian hid his grin behind his hand, biting down hard on his lower lip.

With one strong push, Geralt opened the cabin door. The snowfall had ceased and the world was enwrapped in soft white snow and darkness. The light of the full moon found its way through the trees, the snow glittering wherever it touched.

The stranger pulled his black hood over his own white hair, the snow clinging to his boots as he made his way through the trees, walking away until he was eventually swallowed by the darkness.

Heading back inside, Sevastian met her gaze.

“I sensed no danger, despite his blades.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “Neither did I. He truly seemed….lost.”

Sevastian glowered for a moment as he looked over at the empty pot. “He did however finish what was to be my next helping of dinner.”

She scoffed, pushing the chairs back into the table. “We can catch another rabbit in the morning and make more. Or maybe visit Rosie and dine there –“ She trailed off as her husband slowly made his way towards her, gleam in his eyes, his hands settling on her hips, enjoying their softness.

“Yes?”, she asked, unable to keep from smiling.

“If I cannot have rabbit stew”, he said, his voice low and teasing, full of promise, “then perhaps I shall dine on some other Bunny.”

Her laughter filled the cabin, warmer than any fire, as he swept her off her feet and carried her the short distance to the bed, playfully nipping at her neck with every step.

“Sevastian!”

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Imprisoned - Series

Chapter I

Story Rating: 14+

Warnings: Violence, Murder, Mentions of Murder, Language

Summary: Y/N is Andy and Laurie Barber’s 14-year-old daughter who is a high-grade student in Archer Middle School. Her best friend, Alice Miller had been gone for a while. They search for the lost student and find out that Alice Miller’s body has the prints of Andy and Laurie Barber’s daughter, Y/N.

Author’s Note: Not sure if I should make this a series, this is basically a daughter and dad situation. I DO NOT know what happens in DEFENDING JACOB. So don’t think I know it if I get these episodes correct. (Which I won’t) 

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII

Spoiler free but will soon be spoiler alerts!

The song that reminds me about the readers character is Fitzpleasure by Alt-J Idk why

~~~

Going over the papers once again. This stress is getting to his head. Shoving the papers off to the side, he sighs. Needing to move on to some other case than that. His phone buzzes on the desk and he sees his wife’s name pop up. Taking the energy to take his phone, he looks at her message.

You busy?

He types in his phone with ‘a little bit’. He was curious was she needed so he replied with a ‘why?’.

Your daughter needs a ride.

The man looks at the time on his desk. It was 10 minutes after their last bell. He texts her back and picks up the papers, organizing them a little bit before grabbing his bag.

He walks out of his office and heads out, “Mr. Barber, you’re heading out?” The woman asks. The man turns around, “I gotta pick up my daughter. I’ll sure be back. If someone calls in for me, tell them to call me back.”

The woman nods, “All right. See ya, Mr. Barber.”

The man nods with a grin and pushes out the doors. He gets into his car and pulls out of the parking lot. He pulls out his phone and sees his daughter’s text.

I’m at the park :)

He drops his phone into the cup holder and drives towards the school. The students continuing to leave the building as he keeps driving up the street towards the park. The park he would take her sometimes as a little kid. There was a forest near that park and she would go back there and find some cool sticks she would bring home and play as if she was a knight in their backyard.

He sees the park come into view and two girls on the swings. He pulls up to the sidewalk and rolls his window down.

The two girls laughed as they swung back and forth. He smiled at them and a few seconds later, one of the girls brought their attention to him. “Oh, he’s here!” The girl says, she hops off the swing and grabs her bag.

Her friend follows her as they rushed up to the car. “Hey, dad!” The girl says, the man smiles at her. “Hey, champ.”

The girl grips on her backpack, “Is it okay if we take Alice to her mom’s house?” The girl asked. The dark-haired girl peaks over the other, “I’m sorry, Mr. Barber. It’s just my dad isn’t getting off work for another 3 hours and my mom is stuck at the store.” The man nods.

“Sure, I’m happy to drive you home. Hop in girls,” He says.

The girl smiles, “Thanks, dad.” The girl lets Alice hop in first and scoots over to the other side as the h/c girl sits next to her. “How was school?” The man asked.

“It was good. How was work?” His daughter asked.

He placed his hand on top of the wheel, glancing in the rear mirror to see them buckle their seat belts. “It was good. Your mother texted me to get you, so I might have to return back to work.”

“That’s okay. Mom was asking me to help her with some things around the house. We can finish the show tomorrow,” She says.

“That’s right, we’re both off. Spring break, right?” He asked.

“Yep,” She says. He grins and drives away from the park. He hears the two chatter in the back, laughing and pointing at their phones of funny or cute things on their devices. He tilts his head to the side to relief the pain in his neck. “How was practice, Y/N?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh, it was raining a little bit so the field was a bit too wet to play,” He looks back at his daughter Y/N who was rolling the soccer ball in her lap as she glanced at Alice’s phone. The two continued to laugh and chatter as he gotten closer to Alice’s neighborhood.

He pulls up to the light blue house and stops right behind her mother’s second car that was a dark van. “All right, Alice. It was nice seeing you again,” He says.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

“Bye, Alice,” Y/N says, Alice grabs her bag and waves. “Bye!” She closes the door and she heads into her home, unlocking it herself and heads in. Y/N throws her backpack into the front and slides between the two front seats and sits in the passengers side. 

“You got to stop doing that, Y/N.”

“What?” She smiles. He grins at her, “You’re too old now.”

“Says the old man, himself,” Y/N says, he shakes his head and pulls out of Alice’s neighborhood. “Did you get your test today?” He asked. Y/N shook her head, “No. Mrs. Lim wasn’t there today. Apparently, she left for her trip to Tokyo.”

“Tokyo? What’s over there?”

“Her family. Her mother’s birthday was coming up in a few days,” Y/N says, he hums, “And how do you know that?” He asked. Y/N looks at him, “Because me and Mrs. Lim always hang out during lunch! She likes me and Alice in the class.”

He nods, “All right, all right. What about that one kid? What’s his name again?”

“Henry?”

“Yeah, how’s his mom doing at the department? I haven’t seen her since the last pot luck,” He says, Y/N nods her head this time. “She’s good. His dad has to pick him up more because his mom is always taking late night shifts from 3 to 12.”

“Really? Nine hours of work?” He asked, Y/N nods, “It’s police work, you know?” His daughter was a student in Archer Middle. Top student and she has a big dream ahead of her. She wanted to be like her dad. A district attorney. He let her follow that and even filled her in with some of his cases he had been working on.

They were getting closer to the end of the school year and were glad to get it done. Y/N was their only child and couldn’t ask for a better daughter. She was kind, energetic and a good sense of humor.

He reached their house and stopped in front of the driveway, spotting his wife’s car. “You got yourself from here?” He asked, Y/N digs into her bag, “Yep!”

She pulls out her keys, “Thanks, dad.” She leans over and kisses his cheek. He smiled at her, “You behave yourself till I get back,” He says. She steps out and leans in to look at him. 

“I will. Love you!” She closes the door and walks around to go up their lawn. “Love you too!” He shouts back, he sees the front door open to his wife and she kisses Y/N’s head before heading down over to him.

His wife smiles at him and leans into his window, kissing him. “What’s going on?” She asked.

“I still got stuff to do, I’ll try and make it for dinner.”

“Andy...” She says, he grins, “I’ll be here in time for dinner, I promise,” He says. Laurie gives him a nod and pulls away, “You should not work too hard, your daughter is insisting on finishing that show.” He slightly laughs, Y/N was into her crime drama shows.

“I’ll try not to.” She gives him a soft smile and walks back into the house. He rolls his window back up and drives off. His hand on top of the wheel, he drives back to his office.

.

Y/N drops her bag next to her desk and plops onto her bed with her phone in hand. Without knowing, something jumps on the bed and licks her face. “Aye! Milo!” Y/N says. She tries to push her Pointer hound who wagged his tail furiously.

Milo was from Andy’s friends a while back, the dog was a well-trained hunter and he needed a home. 

Andy got the dog for Y/N and they became best buddies. Y/N watched as Milo sprawls out on her bed and begs for a belly rub. Y/N smiles and rubs his belly. “Y/N, sweetheart! Can you help me with the dishes?” Her mother calls.

“Coming! Come on, bubs,” She jumps up with her dog and they rush into the kitchen.

.

It was past 9 at night and Andy had returned. Opening his garage door, he parks his black small car into it. Closing the door afterwards, he walks into his home. The sound of the television going off and sound of the Live PD show played. 

Andy walks into the kitchen to see his wife by the sink. Dropping his keys on the counter, that got his wife’s attention. “Hey,” He kisses her and turns to the table to see a plate that hadn’t been washed yet. It might’ve been Y/N’s.

He sighs, knowing he had missed dinner. Laurie scrubs the dishes as he looks at her, “I’m sorry, I tried to get as much done.”

“She’s more upset than I am,” Laurie said, Andy looks over to the living room and walks in the dark room only lit by the huge screen TV.

He walks around the couch to see Y/N and Milo spooning. Her eyes were closed as Andy kneels in front of her view of the TV. He gently pushes a strand behind her ear and that made her open her eyes up.

“Hey...” He says, softly, Y/N doesn’t say anything and closes her eyes again. He pierced his lips, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I tried to.” She doesn’t reply and he reaches over to pet Milo. 

Sighing, he stands up and walks back into the kitchen. Laurie looks over her shoulder, “You hungry?” She asked. He shakes his head, “I’m okay. Thank you.” She grabs the plate off the table and brings it to the sink. 

Scrubbing off the food, Andy walks away and tugs his jacket off his shoulders, throwing it in his bedroom on the chair. Pulling his tie off, he unbuttons his shirt and heads over to the drawer. He tossed his shirt and tie in the basket and grabbed a t-shirt. He slips that on and sits on the edge of his bed to take his dress shoes off.

Laurie came in and leaned on the door frame. “She still loves you.”

Andy slips out of his pants and throws them in the basket as well, “I know. But I just feel like a prick either way,” He says.

Laurie tilts her head, “Why do you think that?”

“A father should be there for their kid. She has games and everyone but me doesn’t go. I never went to one single game.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad parent, An,” She says, crossing her arms. He slips on sweats. “It makes me feel like one. The only thing we do is watch her favorite show and that’s it. I take her friend home and I don’t go out with you guys.”

“You don’t have to worry about us. We know you love us, but don’t let it get to you and make you feel like you can’t do much for us. We already know you are doing so much of it. We love you either way.” He sighs, dropping his head. Laurie comes over to the edge of the bed, pulling his head to her stomach.

Her hands caressing his head as he wraps his arms around her hips. Something they did when Laurie had a huge bump. 

“Y/N loves you. She won’t ever hate you.”

.

“Ready?” Y/N asked, she holds the ball up to Milo, “Fetch!” She throws the ball out in the backyard and Milo runs after it. She watched as Milo jumps up and down at the ball’s movements before catching it into his mouth and returning it.

“Good boy!” She kneels down and takes the ball. “Wanna go again?” She shakes the ball in her hand, Milo barks. “Go get it!” She throws it and he runs off. Not knowing her father had walked out and watched her with a small grin.

Y/N knelt down for Milo but the hound runs past her and towards Andy. Begging Andy to throw it, he takes the ball. One swift throw, Milo runs for the ball across the backyard and Andy walks up to Y/N.

“Did you want to watch ‘Cage of the Past’?” He asked, the show was her favorite crime drama show on Netflix and they were on the third season out of eight. She gets the ball from Milo.

“Actually I was gonna ask if I can go to a party.”

“When? With who?” Andy asked. Y/N slightly shrugged, “Henry and Alice were gonna be there. It was at a girl’s house, named Emily. It’s her birthday,” Y/N said. Andy knew having his daughter out a lot, it worried him. He would have to make sure she had a ride home.

“Who’s gonna take you home?” He asked. “Alice’s dad was gonna take me home. I told them they can bring me back around nine.” Andy thought about this hard enough. Ride was given. Phone? Clothing? Right, what she said. Time.

“You promise to be back by 9?” He asked, Y/N nods. He sighs, “Okay. I trust  you. You stay at that house.”

Y/N nods once again, “I’ll text you when we’re heading back over.” He nods at her and she throws the ball out to the yard one last time.

.

“You’re letting her go out to a party?” Laurie asked, she turns to lean on the counter, facing Andy. “It’s just a birthday party. Alice and Y/N were gonna come back after it ends.”

“Will she be back around 9?”

“I told her about coming home and she understands.” Laurie nods, “Okay, so we just keep an eye on our phones.” Andy nods in agreement. Y/N steps down into the kitchen from upstairs and she heads for the door. “Y/N, where’s your phone?” Laurie calls. 

Y/N lifts up her phone, “It’s fully charged! I’ll text you guys, okay?” She says, Laurie smiles. “Okay, have fun.”

“Thanks mom. Love you both!” The two watched her leave that front door and stepped into Alice’s car with her father. Laurie watched the vehicle disappear and she sighs. “I hope they’re not having alcohol there.”

Andy smiles, “I’m sure she’ll be responsible.” Laurie looks at him and grins.

Let’s hope she is.

~~~

TAGS:

@jtargaryen18​ @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​ @chrisevans-imagines​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @elliee1497​ @princess-evans-addict​ @chrisevans-source​ 

[pulitzerpanther]

Will the president be increasing boots on the grounds in areas we are not wanted? And if not will this presidents projected use of drones break the previous record holder of confirmed killed orders?

"Linda, are you literally just throwing out political hot words like Donald Trump spreads venereal diseases? Who in the world projected the president's drone use? Buzzfeed? Any information regarding the safety of the United States is confidential not because we're planning on subjugating the entire world to our superior love of hotdogs and..." Glasses wave with a bat of her hand, "...apple pie, but because there are real threats out there and government agencies that would love to undermine our authority and strong arm in the continued governance of freedom and free elections. Which, yes, is a global presence. And, no, was not our doing, but is our great legacy we've inherited in the Great US of A. As a country, have we maybe dipped into the pot a little more than we should? Obviously. If meddling in international affairs was a Thanksgiving event, America would have had to loosen its belt a century ago. But I think President Marsdin has made her objective on ending pointless wars safely obvious. We do not want to be domestic, freeloading roommates. We want to be synergetic partners. The only place we want to place boots is on domestic soil in the job market. And the only drone she'll likely fly is the one a young boy built her for Christmas last year, to the great detriment of the Secret Service who will have to gain airwave clearance. And before you ask, I will not be driving it. I'm a terrible driver...just ask Bono, whose limo I once may or may not have intentionally backed a car into in order to get an interview. Gently." There's a spattering of laughter, "Next."

[redvoid-40]

Chapter 2:

Hey! Here’s the second chapter! Hope you guys enjoy it! :D @demeterrist I’m tagging you because you seemed interested in this.  But let me know if you don’t want me to. :)

Fandom: Naruto

Fanfic title: ???

Chapter 2: Graduation Day

Genre: Friendship, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 1796

Warnings: none

Previous chapter / Next chapter

----

Today was the day. After two years of hard work, Shin was finally going to have the chance to prove herself and become a Shinobi from Konoha.

It hadn’t been easy. Before moving to the village, becoming a Ninja wasn’t something Shin had ever considered, so there was a lot of catching up she had to do to reach the level of her classmates. There were far too many sleepless nights studying Ninjutsu and Genjutsu, and even more long afternoons training her Taijutsu to make up for her lack of talent in the aforementioned two.

But it would be all worth it. She wanted to believe it would be.

Shin stared at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. She was dressed in her Ninja attire: a gray heathered vest that she kept zipped halfway up, with deep pockets on the front and hidden pockets inside. She wore a orange tank top underneath her vest and matching wristbands, both a gift from Naruto. On her lower half she wore black pants tucked in traditional blue Shinobi sandals with a couple of kunai holders on her right thigh. Her light brown hair barely reached her shoulders, maintaining that length which was too short to tie in a ponytail and too long not to get in her eyes, so she pinned her bangs to the side with a couple of orange hair clips, while the rest of her hair reached the top of her shoulders in messy, thick curls. 

She was ready. She had to be.

Mama, Papa, I’ll make you both proud today.

There was a loud knock at the door, followed by Naruto’s voice.

“Shin-chaaaan! Are you up? We need to get going, believe it!”

Shin nodded at herself in the mirror and left her apartment.

Once they arrived at the Academy, Shin and Naruto were told to wait in class for their names to be called one by one. Naruto was called first, and Shin watched him go with a smile and good luck wishes. 

Left alone, Shin raised a hand to the nape of her neck and immediately started to loop her finger around one of the thickest curls in her hair. She always did that when she was particularly nervous.

As she waited for her turn, Ino suddenly flanked her side.

“Good morning, Shin.” The blonde said with a cat’s smile.

“Ah, Ino-chan, good morning! Ready for the exam?”

“Of course! I’ll ace it. What about you?”

“Well, I’m not 100% certain I’ll pass… but I’ll do my best!”

Ino’s smile softened slightly. “I’m sure you will. But there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Shin’s smile didn’t falter. “Yes?”

“I noticed you’re letting your hair grow.”

“I am actually! Sometimes it can’t be a real bother though… These hair clips can barely hold my bangs. I tried wearing a headband for a day, but it felt really itchy.”

“Well, is there any specific reason you decided to grow out your hair?”

Suddenly Sakura appeared at her other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Yes, Shin! Tell us, why did you start growing out your hair?”

Ino glared at Sakura over Shin’s head as the later lowered her gaze to the floor, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. The pink-haired girl glared right back at the blonde. 

“Ah… you see… It’s a bit embarrassing.” Shin began, successfully catching both girls’ attention and making them fix their glare on the back of her head. 

“YES?”

“I-I noticed you were all were growing out your hair too… And you all look really pretty.” Shin began, face becoming redder by the second. “So I… I thought I’d try it out too.”

Sakura and Ino exchanged a look. 

“It’s not because you like Sasuke-kun, then?” The first asked, quite directly.

“Uh?” Shin let out, appearing every bit as confused as she felt.

“Oh, Sakura! You really have no shame do you?” Ino exclaimed, wrapping both arms around Shin and pulling to girl to herself. “Embarrassing Shin like that just because you were jealous!”

Sakura rose a fist at Ino. “You were the one that started it!”

“Yes, because I was curious as a friend! By the way, I really like your new look, Shin!”

“T-Thanks? I’m sorry, I didn’t want to cause any trouble between you two...”

“It’s not your fault, Shin.” Sakura reassured, still glaring at Ino. “It’s that Ino Pig’s fault!”

Ino pushed Shin to the side and got face to face with Sakura. “Who are you calling a pig, Billboard Brow?”

Immediately the two fell into one of their arguments as the rest of the class watched in a mix of worry and annoyance. Shin wondered if she should try and stop them, though she knew by experience that they’d fight until they were both tired of it, regardless of what anyone else said.

The door to the classroom opened them. Iruka-sensei took a look at what was happening and sighed before calling the next name.

“Next up, Uchiha Sasuke!”

Now, that put a pause on things as the two girls - and almost every other girl in class - yelled out a “Good luck, Sasuke-kun!”

Shin didn’t really understand what the whole hype about Sasuke was. Despite having a similar backstory as the boy she honestly found it difficult to even make polite conversation with him. He was too intimidating.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to call him a friend as well.

---

After wishing a few more minutes of waiting Shin was led into a classroom with only Iruka-sensei and Mizuki-sensei. The first smiled at her kindly. 

“In order to pass this test, you must create clones of yourself, Shin-kun.”

Shin gulped. Creating clones wasn’t her best technique but she thought she could manage at least a decent copy. Naruto on the other hand…

Naruto-chan, I hope you practiced.

“Whenever you’re ready, Shin-kun.” Mizuki-sensei spoke.

“Ah! Sorry!, Here I go! Bunshin no Jutsu!”

The teachers watched in slight confusion as Shin’s body flashed blue for a second before a clone appeared by her side. It was just one, but it stood tall and fully functional in front of them.

“Is that enough?” Shin asked as she dried the sweat off her brow. She really had a hard time with any kind of Ninjutsu. “I think I can do one more if you want.”

Please, say you don’t.

Iruka and Mizuki exchanged a glance and a shrug. 

“Your chakra seemed to falter for a moment there, but I’ll let it pass. The clone is good and seems functional. Congratulations, Shin-chan!” Iruka said with a big smile as he offered her a Konoha forehead protector. “As your teacher, I’m very proud of you. I’m sure you’ll be a great Shinobi.”

Shin blushed and grabbed her prize. 

“I’ll work hard, Iruka-sensei.”

---

Shin ran out of the Academy Building with her forehead protector in hand and a big grin on her face. Brown eyes darted from side to side, looking for a familiar head of blonde hair.

“Hey, isn’t that the kid who…”

“Yeah, that’s him. The only one who failed.”

“Serves him right.”

Shin knew that condescending tone, and even if she had never understood where it came from she knew exactly who it was directed at. Following the women’s line of sight, Shin found the person she was looking for, sitting on a swing with a sad look on his face.

Shin hid her forehead protector inside one of her pockets and took a step towards him.

“Narut-”

“Shin, we made it!”

Before she understood what had happened Shin had been pulled back by none other than Ino, who was grinning and jumping up and down in excitement with her hand clasped between both of hers. 

“Ino-chan, congratulations!”

“Tell me, where are you going to tie your protector? I was thinking of wearing mine as a belt!”

Shin smiled. “That’s a good idea. I think I’ll wear mine around my left arm-”

“Ah! Sasuke-kun! Congratulations to you too!”

Faster than Ino had grabbed her hand, she let her it go to run to Sasuke, alongside the other girls in class. Shin sighed but couldn’t help the amused little curl of her lips as she watched them. She didn’t understand their crush on Sasuke, but she couldn’t deny it must be nice to care about someone like that.

Shin turned back to the swing where Naruto was. To her surprise though he wasn’t alone anymore; Mizuki-sensei was talking to him.

And just as she was about to walk towards them, they left.

That’s weird.

---

Shin had looked for Naruto everywhere. She went to Ichiraku, his apartment, her apartment, the Hokage Rock, and nothing. The sun was already setting and there was no sign of the blonde.

Until nightfall came and with it a desperate-looking Iruka knocking at her door, pulling her away from her lute-practice.

“Iruka-sensei, what time is it? Did something happen?”

“Shin-kun! Do you know where Naruto is?!”

The girl’s eyes widened as worry immediately gripped at her heart. “I haven’t talked to him since before the Exam. Did something happen to him? Is he alright?!”

“I can’t talk about it right now. I need to go!”

Just as Iruka was about to jump off Shin grabbed the back of his vest.

“Iruka-sensei, I saw Mizuki-sensei talking to Naruto-chan after the Exam. They ran off before I could talk to them.” Shin spoke, voice hiding nothing of her anxiety. “I don’t know if this is of any help but… I thought it strange. Mizuki-sensei never was one to talk to us after class like you usually do.”

Iruka frowned at her words. “I see. Thanks, Shin-kun. You go back inside and I’ll find Naruto, alright?”

Shin nodded. “Let me know when you find him. I’ll be awake.”

---

The sun was starting to rise in the horizon and Shin hadn’t slept at all. It wasn’t uncommon for her to suffer from insomnia, but it was the first time she had been propositaly depriving herself from sleep. She brewed green tea and coffee, paced around her apartment and practiced playing her father’s old lute.

Naruto-chan, Iruka-sensei, where are you two?

The girl sighed and put her kettle back on the stove, ready for her second pot of coffee, when there was a knock at her door.

She ran to it and pulled it open desperately, almost tearing the thing off its hinges. What met her eyes was a surprised Iruka-sensei and a sheepish-looking Naruto.

Naruto was wearing a Shinobi forehead protector.

“Sorry to worry you, Shin-chan. It took me a little longer, but I caught up to you. Believe it!”

Tears overflowing from her eyes, Shin smiled and pulled Naruto in a hug.

“I never doubted you would, Naruto-chan.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Blow By Blow ch.1 (baon)

Summary: Set the day after ‘With Brotherly LV’. Jeff is having his first day working at the Embassy, Stretch is having a bad anxiety day, Red is having a bad text day, and Edge is just having a day.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, LV Issues, Brother issues

Notes: My timeline is getting a little wonky due to a few drabble sets and shorts. So this chapter directly follows With Brotherly LV

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

For once, Edge was not surprised that Stretch got up with him on a weekday morning. After last night, he likely wanted to keep Edge close as long as he could, had crept into his arms the moment Edge returned to their bed, heedless of the drying sweat still on his bones.

They'd slept restlessly in each others arms and in a rare indulgence, Edge used the snooze function on his alarm, skipping his morning run to stay buried in the blankets, and Stretch’s arms, for a little longer.

But the morning eventually needed to be faced. He’d left Stretch sleeping while he showered only to find the bed empty when he came back. When he went downstairs after dressing, Stretch was in the kitchen, sagged down on the counter in front of the brewing coffee pot with his head resting on his folded arms. Even the ducks on his bathrobe seemed somewhat wilted, the fabric drooping from the haphazardly tied belt. “It would be more comfortable for you to sleep our bed,” Edge pointed out. “mmph.” Edge couldn’t tell if that was agreement or a general statement about the day. He patted the back of Stretch’s skull then reached past it for the coffee carafe, pouring out two mugs. In the one cheerfully painted with the chemical formula for caffeine, he added enough creamer and sugar to bring it to a muddy consistency, leaving it on the counter and taking his own black coffee back to the table. There was enough time to skim the newspaper before he needed to leave. He took a sip of coffee, relying on the Beanery’s special roast to enhance the morning, because stars knew what he said next wasn’t about to. “Would you rather I come pick you up after work tomorrow to see Alphys or do you want to take the bus and meet me at the Embassy?” “i dunno.” It was muffled into Stretch’s arms to the point of being almost indecipherable and Stretch turned his head to the side to add, “the bus, i guess. no point in you coming home just to go right back.” Except for the fact that Stretch was very nervous about the upcoming appointment and sitting alone for the long bus ride was not likely to help. Saying that wouldn’t end well, though, and Edge only said, mildly, “I don’t mind. If you want to think about it, let me know what you decide tonight. "sounds good." Stretch's tone made it clear that he thought it was anything but good. He finally straightened with a groan and reached for the still steaming cup. His contended sigh at that first mouthful of coffee broke off as he turned and Edge frowned as Stretch did an actual spit take, coughing the sip he'd taken back into his cup. "Are you all right?" Edge asked, rising from his chair in concern. Skeletons didn't really have a gag reflex, he knew it personally and not simply because he was one. Stretch was staring at him, his mouth open and finally he recovered enough to say, "um, you've got something…?" He gestured vaguely at his face. Edge plucked a napkin from the holder and wiped at his mouth. "Better?" "um, no, uh...babe, what the fuck?" His voice rose shrilly as he stumbled forward with one hand reaching out, hesitating before it touched. "The problem isn’t on your face, it is your face! did red hit you last night?" Orange was starting to bleed into his pale eye lights, a visible sign of his anger rising. Edge could only stare at him in bewildered surprise. "Of course not, my brother wouldn't hit me." Not with his hands, at any rate. "yeah, okay." Stretch scrabbled his phone out of his robe pocket. A couple quick taps and he handed it over in selfie mode. What it showed made Stretch’s reaction seem far more reasonable. Edge traced a gloved fingertip down the side of his face with resigned dismay. There was an ugly bruise around his right socket, leaving a crow's wing of swelling darkness down the side of his face all the way to his jawline. Ah. One of those attacks must have caught him hard enough to bruise. He hadn't even noticed. Edge shook his head and handed the phone back. “I was using one of the private exercise rooms, I didn’t even notice I’d done this.” Not quite a lie. From the thinly veiled skepticism in Stretch’s look, he believed exactly none of that, “how the fuck do you not notice getting half your face smacked off?” He blew out a sharp breath, letting it go. “okay, okay. have a seat, babe, i'll heal it a little for you." Edge resisted the pressure of the hand on his shoulder urging him towards a chair. "I'm already running late, you can do it tonight." Stretch only looked at him in disbelief. "uh, yeah, no, you are not going in to work like that. are you fucking kidding me? my phone will be blowing up in two seconds and i don't have time to explain to the whole town we don't flirt that way.” He pointed firmly at a chair. “sit!” Edge sat. The electric surge in the air as Stretch called up his magic so close to him prickled along Edge’s bones. In the past, that would have been a warning, a threat, but his soul knew that magic, the touch of it even sweeter than the scent. Cool fingertips rested against his cheekbone, soothing the bruise even as they warmed. Edge closed his sockets against the rising green glow, sighing as that gentle warmth grew, spreading across his skull. He hadn't even noticed it hurting until the pain leached away, dulling to a barely noticeable throb. When he opened his sockets again Stretch was looking down at him, dissatisfied. "welp, that's the best i can do for right now. would have been better if i’d caught it right after. It's harder to heal shit once it settles in.” “I appreciate the effort.” Edge caught his withdrawing hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. But Stretch was not to be cajoled out of his irritation. He tugged his hand free, flopping down to sit in the opposite chair. “wasn’t only for you but yeah. i’ll try a little more when you get home, but i don’t want to overdo it or it’ll only make it worse. put some ice on it at work, might help.” "I will." Edge said with infinite patience. It was nerves, and Stretch was going to be jittery and snappish until he heard what Alphys had to say about his tests. “I do need to get going.” “uh huh,” Stretch emptied his desecrated coffee into the sink and poured another cup, doctoring it with obscene amounts of cream and sugar. Normally, his moans of appreciation would follow his first sip, but this time he leaned against the counter and said, “anyone asks, tell ‘em the other guy looks worse.” “Thank you for the advice,” Edge said dryly, “but no one is going to ask.” His allowances for Stretch’s anxiety did not mean he was willing to leave without a kiss. Edge stood, prowling over to Stretch and braced his hands against the counter on either side of his husband, caging him in. Stretch only smirked, taking an exasperatingly long sip of his coffee, and saying nearly into the cup. “you need something?” “I do.” Edge let his voice drop to a teasing growl, watched the faint shiver that came from it. “And you can either give it to me or I’m going to take it.” That lazy smirk widened. “ooh, threats. think you’ve already been playing a little too rough, babe.” But he set his coffee aside, his cup-warmed hands gentle on Edge’s healing bruises as he ducked his head and offered a kiss. Edge lingered too-long on that coffee-sweetened mouth, sighing as he drew away. He looked into that beloved face and said sternly, “Behave yourself today.” That earned him an agreeable enough hum, until he started out the door and Stretch called after him, “i will if you do.” That was either a promise or a threat, and Edge could only hope the universe didn’t attempt to make good on it either way.

~~*~~]

His first stop of the day was only a short drive from their house. Edge pulled into the driveway, absently noticing the well-manicured flower beds and making a note to ask what the orange-tipped blossoms were. He knocked briskly on the door and instead of Blue, Jeff answered, already dressed in a shirt and tie that Edge knew were probably fresh from the iron. Jeff wouldn’t know it, but he’d personally pushed through an advance on Jeff’s salary to allow for him to buy some new clothes, and if they were more off the rack than Edge preferred for himself, he well understood how difficult it was to break free from years of frugality. “Hey, what’s up? I was going to ride in with Blue— holy shit, are you okay?” Jeff’s amicable greeting screeched to a halt, blue eyes widening as he caught sight of his Edge’s face. "I'm fine,” Edge waved away his second dose of concern this morning. “Stretch healed the worst of it." “It looked worse?" Jeff asked doubtfully at the same time Blue wandered into the living room and began, “Oh, hello, Edge, I—what in the world happened!” Edge sighed. This had the makings of a very long day. He waited patiently as Blue ran out, the kitchen door rocking on its hinges, barely slowing by the time Blue bustled back through it with a disposable ice pack. He twisted it briskly to activate it, gesturing for Edge to kneel down. Arguing would probably take longer than simply accepting the fussing and with some bemusement, Edge crouched. Suddenly, Stretch’s tendency to grudgingly accept his brother’s coddling made more sense. He hissed at the cold against his skull, pressed gently to the bruising. “This is a several hours old, why didn’t you call me?” Blue fussed, his eye lights stark with disapproval. “I didn’t notice it,” Edge sighed, tipping his skull obediently to allow Blue to inspected it. “Your brother healed some of it this morning.” “I can tell, I can still feel his magic signature. There’s no point in me trying more, he did the best that could be done.” There was a certain warm pride in his voice and Edge wished Stretch was here to hear it. He never believed he was as skilled a healer as Blue. “Keep the ice on it and if Papy isn’t up to trying again tonight, I can,” Blue added. “Now, can I assume you’ve come to steal my roommate away?” “I have,” Edge agreed, glancing at Jeff who was standing awkwardly, trying to both watch and not. “There are a few things we needed to go over this morning and my drive in is all the time I can spare.” Blue only nodded. He understood very well how important Edge’s work was. He took Edge’s hand, settling it pointedly over the ice pack to hold it against his skull and bustled back to the kitchen. The lunch bag he returned with was sleek and professional, and Edge watched with amusement as he handed it to Jeff, rambling about the contents; food and medicine, reminders for Jeff to call if he felt ill or needed any help. That Jeff accepted it all patiently, even happily, was only another indicator of what Edge already knew. That beneath the cheap tie and crisply ironed shirt lay the soft green of a compassionate soul. Edge allowed Blue to fuss a moment longer, then broke in, “We do need to be going.” “Yes, yes,” Blue agreed absently. “But if you need anything—” “I’ll call,” Jeff said with a hint of amusement. “It’s only for half a day.” “I’ll look out for him,” Edge threw in. He supposed he deserved the look Blue gave him, his starry eye lights lingering pointedly on the ice pack. It took another minute to detangle Blue’s apron strings enough to get back to the car and Edge nearly sighed in relief as he closed his door, tossing the ice pack on the center console. Jeff was close behind, already buckling his seatbelt. He fidgeted as Edge started the car, for a moment almost absurdly reminiscent of Stretch as he toyed with his tie. “Do I look okay for my first day?” “You look fine.” His nervousness was almost endearing, though Edge did take a hand off the wheel long enough to stop him from wrinkling the tie any further. “Jeff, forgive me for overstepping, but if you ever wanted to wear a skirt, no one at the Embassy would think anything of it.” That stopped his fidgeting completely, but discomfort was not the hoped-for replacement. “How did you…never mind. Of course you do. Um, thank you? Sometimes I just…like it…but…I don’t think I could.” Edge only nodded understandingly. “I’m aware that the Human community can be strange about these things if it isn’t for, say, a thrift store competition. I simply wanted you to know that tasteful clothes are acceptable whether you feel the day is one for trousers or a skirt. Monsters aren’t going to question your choices, your gender, or your sexuality.” The discomfort didn’t ease and Edge let it go at that. He’d said his piece and Jeff’s choices after were his own. But making Jeff uncomfortable when he was already nervous had not been his intention and he regretted not waiting to bring it up. Thus far, his entire morning had been less than a success story. A subject change was in order. “How has it been living with Blue?” That seemed to be the right approach. Jeff brightened visibly. “Great, actually. Blue is really nice and he’s a really good cook…not that you aren’t a good cook!” Jeff added hurriedly, as though Edge would be offended if Jeff admitted to liking anyone else’s cuisine. “I’m very familiar with Blue’s skills and I agree, he is a good cook.” His preferences were for more homey meals, filling recipes of soups and pot pies whereas Edge preferred something with spice. Stretch never complained about either of their offerings, but then, it wasn’t a competition. At least it wasn’t to Edge. Jeff seemed relieved that he hadn’t taken offense, but his expression was still clouded. “Stretch was a little…odd, when I said I was moving in. He’s not mad, is he?” “Not at all.” Concerned was a more appropriate term. The day they’d learned about Jeff and Blue’s plan, Stretch had been near-manic in his worry, pacing the living room for hours broken only by occasional outbursts. “you know how blue is!” Stretch said during one of them. “babe, if you’re a mama bear, blue is a general waging war with soup and pillows! i’d ask him to see a therapist except first he’d have to admit something was wrong.” He’d flopped down on the sofa then, curling up against Edge’s side in a silent plea for an embrace that Edge was glad to offer. “at least i always admitted i was fucked up.” His attempts at comforting Stretch had been flawed by his own worries. It would either be good for them both or the worst idea possible, but they were both adults who could make their own choices. Only time would tell. Today was definitely not the time to admit his concerns and Edge only said, “I’m glad to hear it’s working out. I did want to tell you that your car will be delivered tonight. “My…car?” Most of Edge’s attention was on the road, but he spared a glance at Jeff because nothing was going to make him miss the conflicting emotions that clouded his face. It was better even than when Edge gave him the Ipad. Humans were sometimes difficult for him to read, but Jeff was as clear as the windshield in front of him. Confusion, outrage, shame, and beneath it all was what Edge wanted to see in him; one quiet spot of hope. “Transportation is part of your employment package.” Luckily Jeff wasn’t as adept at catching him in a lie as Stretch. “It won’t be a car like mine, I’m afraid, luxuries need to be purchased with your own salary, but—“ He trailed off as Jeff’s breath hitched, directing his gaze back to the road to give him time to get himself under control. The music from the radio was a counterpoint to those little sniffles, but soon enough Jeff managed, roughly, “Any car would be fine.” “Dependable rather than flashy is probably best, anyway. I’m sure Stretch will coax you into chauffeuring from time to time.” Possibly. Stretch could be very prickly about asking for rides. And Edge trusted Jeff, hard-earned over the course of the last year, but he couldn’t keep from saying, “Be careful with him in the car. Make sure he does up his seatbelt. Please. If you think the ability to teleport would help in case of an accident, you’d be wrong, their shortcuts don’t defer momentum and—“ and in bad accident, it would do little more than delay death. True, yes, but the words refused to come. Jeff didn’t tease or mock, only offered a lopsided smile, crossed his finger over his heart the same way Stretch did. “Promise.” Edge nodded, accepting that. The rest of the ride was quiet and it was only as he parked that Edge’s phone chimed with a text message. He took the time to walk inside, Jeff at his side with his lunch bag in hand, before he opened it, frowning at the message from his brother. hey, boss, why the fuck am i getting poison pen pal texts from your liability? Well, it seemed Stretch hadn't been so willing to let it go, after all. He texted back, I’ll talk to him. sure but answer the question Edge ignored that for the moment as they walked up to the security desk, already reaching for his badge. The guard began greeting them automatically, “Good morning…oh!” He sat up straight as he caught sight of Edge’s face, eyes going wide as he scrambled for his radio, “Did the protestors get through the barrier again?!” “No,” Edge sighed. Jeff was digging for his own badge with far more than the required amount of attention. “I’m fine.” “But—“ “It wasn’t the protestors!” Edge snapped, swiping his badge with unnecessary force. He stepped quickly into the elevator and held it until Jeff joined him. “Public relations is on the second floor, all the way to the right.” Jeff nodded and his earlier nervousness was still there, but mostly quelled beneath determination. “Got it.” The door opened and as Jeff stepped out, Edge said, softly, “You’ll do fine.” That wide, hopeful smile disappeared behind the closing elevator door. Edge got off on his own floor a moment later, walking towards his office with unseemly haste. No one was in the hallways, but Janice was at her desk, looking up from her computer with a cheery, “Good…gracious! What happened!?” Edge sighed.

~~*~~

TBC

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

Thank you so much for reading this. I do appreciate it so much. I am enjoying writing it so I’m glad people are enjoying reading it. Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta.

This is a shorter chapter but necessary one.  I will hopefully aim to post twice a week.

Warning: there is some swearing in this chapter.

Previous

AO3

Chapter 3 : A Difficult Conversation

If you marry the wrong person for the wrong reasons, then no matter how hard you work, it's never going to work, because then you have to completely change yourself, completely change them, completely - by that time, you're both dead.  Anne Bancroft

Jamie was not a coward, but as he rang the doorbell of the Geneva’s smart townhouse, he could feel his palms sweating. He wiped them on his jeans and pressed the doorbell again. The decision had been made last night, while in the pub. He could have told her then but he needed time to plan what he would say. Every time he thought about it though, he felt more and more like a bastard. He didn’t want Geneva to think that he’d used her for sex. In fact last night, when she had invited him back to her house again, he’d politely refused, pleading the onset of a sudden migraine. Not too far from the truth, he told himself.

Jamie heard Geneva’s footsteps coming to the door. As the door swung open, he wiped his palms again. Band-aid approach needed, he told himself - quick, clean, and less painful in the long run.

Geneva held her face up for a kiss as he stepped inside. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and bent down to take his shoes off before she had to remind him (again). She grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him into her immaculate living room. Stopping suddenly, she swivelled to face him, placing her hands on his chest, working her fingers between the buttons of his shirt.

“Seeing as how you had that migraine last night,” she breathed against his neck. “We’re going to have to make up for it tonight. I hope you’re up for it.” Her hand slid down his body and cupped his groin. “Oh dear, looks like I’m going to have to work even harder…”

Before she had chance to fumble for his zip, Jamie pulled her hand away. He sat on the grey tweed sofa and gestured for her to sit. Instinctively he quickly scanned around, checking there was nothing hard within easy reach for Geneva. Just the mustard accented throw pillows… not too bad.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Geneva, can we talk?”

“About us?”

Jamie saw the excitement flare in her eyes. He realised she had expectations to rekindle their relationship, become boyfriend and girlfriend once more.

“Aye. When I saw ye at Rupert’s wedding, I didna plan tae get wi’ ye. But I did wonder if mebbe I’d been a wee bit hasty last September. I thought we should see. But, I ken now, it’s no’ right, this. And we should stop afore anyone gets hurt.”

Geneva stared at him in disbelief, her hands curled tightly round one of the pillows. So tightly, her knuckles showed white against the light tan of her skin.

“Anyone gets hurt... anyone gets hurt? You fucked me, remember, two nights ago? You fucked me and now you come here ready to give me the ‘it’s-not-you-it’s-me’ speech.”

“I’m no’ proud of my behaviour. I am sorry, I shouldna have slept wi’ ye. But I ken this is no’ right between us. I would only make ye miserable...”

“Here it comes. It’s not you it’s me.” She sneered.

“Aye, you’re right it is me. But it’s ye as well, it’s us. There is no us. I think ye ken it too”

Geneva stood up and walked towards the large picture window. She stood there silently for a moment - her face a calm mask. Her voice started low and controlled.

“You know, when I saw you again at the wedding and we were talking I thought, perhaps he’s changed, perhaps he knows what he wants now… maybe he’s not holding out for some perfect woman.”

She turned to face him, her cheeks reddened with anger. Her fists were clenched tightly as though ready to deliver a knockout blow.

“You know, your fucking ideal woman is a fucking dream.” Her voice grew louder and became harsh, discordant. “Leave me then. I hope you and your fantasy are happy together. But let me tell you now, you’ll come crawling back here, when you realise what you’re holding out for doesn’t exist and all your friends are in their nice little couples’ world and all you’ve got is your right hand for company. Just fuck off.” She screamed the last words. “Fuck you.”

“Truly I am sorry, I dinna ken what else tae say. I hope in time ye can see this is fer the best. I dinna mean for it tae turn out like this. Geneva, I really wish ye well. I do. I want ye tae be happy.”

Jamie got to his feet and stood still, unsure of what his next move should be. Tentatively, he took a step towards Geneva as if to give her some comfort. She deliberately turned her back to him and rested against the marble mantelpiece.

Through the mirror above the fireplace, Jamie could see the reflection of Geneva’s face, eyes closed, lips locked in an angry grimace. Knowing there was nothing more he could do or say to alleviate the situation, he headed out of the room.

A crystal tea light holder hurtled past his ear, narrowly missing him, before ricocheting off the door frame and smashing to pieces on the reclaimed oak floor. It was closely followed by a white orchid and pot which sailed over his left shoulder, depositing a shower of soil in its wake. Jamie quickly picked up his shoes by the front door, rushed out of the house and down the path. Once he judged he was no longer within accurate throwing distance, he stopped to put on his shoes.

Jamie reached his car and sat in the driving seat for several minutes. Breathing deeply, he felt the sweat trickle cold down his back. Am I really such a bastard?

He hadn’t meant for it to happen like this, he had really thought it was worth trying. But sleeping with her had been a mistake, he should have resisted her advances. It was not about another woman… not about that woman he had glimpsed twice now. Even if he never found out who she was (and his stomach turned over at that possibility) he knew he was never meant to be with Geneva.

He switched on the engine, pushed the controls to retract the roof on the silver BMW and set off for home, hoping that the rush of fresh air might clear his head and blow away his lingering feelings of shame.

[vaughanyracesceltman]

Wow, what a race. Except, Celtman is not just a race, it is so much more.  

So please forgive me rambling…… several years ago a friend raced Celtman, I dismissed it as a crazy notion stating something about no-way on earth, what’s the point, etc, etc!  To be honest, I didn’t really understand it.  Also, from a personal perspective, about 3 years ago to the day of this race, I stood on the finish line of an Ironman distance and said I was never going to race that far again – it’s a bit antisocial and unpleasant!  Therefore, in theory, I shouldn’t be writing this.

Fast forward to Sept 2017 and I turn up to the ‘welcome to the Tri Club’ evening at University of Stirling and stand talking to a guy called Robin who was wearing a Celtman jacket. We both thought the session was a bit rubbish and a friendship instantly formed.  Robin is from the Celtman area in Wester Ross and was going to race again last year – he finished 9th!  

Over the forthcoming months, basically, Robin goaded me into entering the ballot, promising to be my support if I got in.  I entered and didn’t really think I would get a place, but come November, I got through. That meant there were going to be several months of committed training and preparation.  You see, this is not just about it being one of the hardest races in the UK, it is also as close to a team participation effort as you get in triathlon – instead of your nearest and dearest seeing you a few times during the whole race they have to: help you out of the swim and through T1; feed, water and mechanic you on the bike; help you go from bike to run at T2; and bring stuff to an extra transition (T2a); and someone has to run with you if you make the cut off time at T2a.  

What had I done?!  

Luckily my better half is very understanding (or was eventually after being a bit annoyed with me) and Robin was good to his word.  Support crew in place.  In addition, to help me keep focussed and structured I decided to engage a coach – who is a person, but I never meet them, setting a programme around my availability via Training Peaks.  Over the next few months I follow the programme as well as I can with work and travel and begin to feel pretty fit.  Then I get to the tricky part….equipment.  Father Christmas sorted out all of the ‘I wouldn’t buy them if it wasn’t for this race’ things.  But the key thing was my bike - my TT was bought in 2006!  It was a good bike at the time and still pretty reliable now, but was quite dated.  After a period of ‘negotiation’, I eventually become the owner of a shiny new Giant Trinity (and eventually she got some new shoes too (from HED wheels) – after further negotiation with the holder of the purse strings!).  I rode her for virtually every training ride from April.

At Easter we went to stay with Robin to recce the course, I saw the swim, swam/froze in a different loch, cycled 100mile of the bike route and we walked the mountain section.  I’ve got to be honest, it was so hard it scared me! And I realised just how much more work I needed to do.  I did. Am working in Portsmouth for the summer so joined Portsmouth Triathletes and got some sea swims in, then I rode Fred Whitton only 3 weeks later.  I was able to get off the bike and run 10k off road, which restored some of my confidence.  Over the last 6 weeks I just focussed and built.  I’m not a lover of going up-hill on foot or bike and with a dodgy left ankle I usually avoid off road – but I’ve done more vertical in the last few months than I have in years and almost look comfortable on the Fells!  

So, with the exception of a bit of a tight calf for a couple of weeks I managed I get to the start line having swum 76km, cycled 3309km and run 630km, since January (and no-one really cares, but I also skied 500km).  Quite possibly the most committed I’ve been to any race ever. This meant that, surprisingly, I was feeling quite calm about heading north.

We decided to make a bit of a holiday out of the race so headed to Scotland a few days in advance. Got some swims and bit of a bike and drove the course in advance.  Apart from the distance across the Loch looking huge and the mountains looking as menacing as they were on the recce I was ready physically and psychologically for the race.  Kathryn and I spent a couple of days with Robin to prep, boxes for each transition, an ‘I’m cold’ box, nutrition, fluid and spares – all sorted and loaded into our trusty camper van.  We were ready.

Now, if you aren’t too bored and haven’t forgotten what I said at the beginning, Celtman is more than just a race.  This is in relation to the community, affinity/respect of the landscape/elements and with each other.  In essence, Celtman is an all-encompassing extended family.

I had an idea it was like this from the way Robin described it, but it started to come to life when we met up on Wednesday evening at the bar in Shieldaig.  Talking to the locals it started to become obvious that this event is an important part of the local calendar.  Whilst they think we are a bit bonkers taking part, they genuinely want us to do well and enjoy what their corner of Scotland has to offer.  As we head into registration and briefing on Friday, the ‘family’ shows itself we don’t see Robin for hours (and this is a repeating theme over the weekend – he’s always chatting!).  On a personal level, it is all very relaxed and welcoming. No question is too stupid – even though some of my fellow competitors could perhaps have read the race manual more fully!  That’s it. Time to apply numbers to bike, hat, belt and sticker up the car.  Food and bed. It’s race time.

‘twas the night before race day and all through the house, it felt like everyone else was asleep but me! My calm relaxed state of mind was gone. Had a bit of a cat nap but when I pulled my ass out of bed at 2am I hadn’t had too much shut eye.  Hey ho, time to focus.  It was a 15minute drive to the T1, where we would collect our GPS trackers and timing dibbers.  The weather forecast at briefing was fine.  But this is Scotland.  It was raining.  In the drizzle my team racked the bike and then I said my temporary goodbyes and went to get the swim start bus at 4am.  The bus journey takes about 20mins on a tiny road.  As we disembarked the piper and drummers start up, in growing light of the dawn, 200 neoprene clad bodies keeping warm by the potted fires, making nervous small-talk is a slightly surreal experience.

Celtman has traditions, before the start they set fire to a giant logo and we get our photo graph taken. In addition, this edition of recognised the recent passing of a significant member of the Celtman Family, Chris Stirling.  Chris had taken part several times going from novice to race winner (as well as winning other XTri events around the world).  Despite being a member of the same Triathlon Club I hardly knew Chris; I had only met him when he sold me my new bike.  But he spent the time while we were setting it up to talk to me about the race, tactics, pitfalls, etc – his love and passion for everything Celtman/Xtri was palpable.  His untimely passing is very sad.  In the half light on the shore of Loch Torridon we celebrated his life.

As time ticked down towards 5am it was time to enter the cold, salty Loch.  We made our way out from the shore to the start line, 10mins, 5mins, 2mins, 1min… Go.   Like all good triathlons there was a mad scramble for a few seconds while we all found our space.  The route is from one side of the Loch to the other, the finish is blind for most of the swim.  First head towards island 1, then spot on the white house behind island 2, then as we round island 2 head into the shore.  3400m with the jelly fish.

I got into my rhythm quite quickly and felt like I was moving fairly easily.  As we went past the first island there was a little bit of swell on the water, not too much but it meant extra concentration, then we found the jelly fish – wow they are big, more solid than you think if you try to push one out of the way but actually very pretty!  By this point I was largely on my own, I was aware of a couple of my swimmers to my left and right but largely we were all ploughing our own line. All became smooth again as we approached the second island, I felt I was going quite well but was a little anxious I was going to be a bit slower than my 1hr target time.  As I rounded the rocks on the end of the island I found a line into the finish and kept my steady pace going.  As I exited the water I felt good, and was able to get up an moving on my own (though had a little stumble).  Quick glance at my watch and I’d hit my plan time.  What I didn’t realise was that I was 23rdout of the water (making this probably my best ever swim).

Transition is usually my specialty!  This was the first test of our team work, Robin grabbed me and guided me up transition, we had a cameraman following us too, I managed to start to get out of my wetsuit but did need some help and ended up sitting down.  We had identified different laying strategies depending upon how cold I was.  Went for a vest under tri-suit and cycle shirt on top, some bike mits and sealskin socks as I was ok. No problems - I’m in and out in less than 5mins (6thfastest).

Out of transition is a little hill and then there are a couple of rises round to Torridon in the first 7miles before you hit 10miles of single track road out to Kinlockewe. This is a gradual rise for 8 miles before 2 miles down to where T2 will be.   I’d enough food and drink for the first 2.5hrs as it can be a problem for the support team to get up the single track road with the numbers of bikes.  My high position out of the swim meant this was no problem for them, so they went off to get breakfast at mile 34.  After the T2 junction there was going to be a tail wind for 20odd miles up the side of Loch Maree.  The road is a false flat until we get to a decent climb before Gairloch, I put my head down and made the most of this favourable wind.  I lose a few places on the road as the slow swim/fast bike guy’s get their acts together!  At Gairloch we turn and head north mainly along the coast, the wind is sort of head/cross and the road starts to undulate.  

Kathryn and Robin make frequent stops for food and drink.  Its great, they have cowbells and just offer so much encouragement.  Back to the Celtman family thing, everyone offers encouragement to everyone, it’s great as an athlete.

As the road continues to rise and fall, some just 20-40m, others up to 100m, we approach Badcaul and head into the wind.  This is going to be 50+miles of straight headwind, probably somewhere around 8-10mph, there are two big climbs just before and after Dundonnell (where Tim Rice owns Dundonnell Hall).  This section is all about managing my pace, I know at the end of this section there is a glorious tailwind for 24miles.  I try to be conservative and but lose a few more places on the road, my team continue to yell encouragement and advice.  My tummy hurts, it’s messing with my head.  I stop to feed the plants (not in my plan!).  After that though I feel better focussed and on the downhill where I’m going nowhere near as fast as I want because of the wind I just keep it steady. Running in the last few miles to Garve I’m just thinking about the last section and busily trying to compute what my likely time will be.  At the turn, if I carry on at the pace I’m going it will be something like a 7hr 40 bike, which will put me under a lot of pressure for the blue tshirt and trip over the mountain.

I turn right, feel the wind. This is going to be great, it will be quicker.  It is, I manage the last 24 and a bit miles in <1h10 – which was pretty quick for me. I take a few places back.  This section basically drags uphill for 20miles at about 1-2% (with a couple of steeper bits) followed by 4miles downhill which are quite steep and fast.  Adrenaline heaven.  I hit T2 and I’m buzzing. 7hr 12m for the 124miles.  A little behind schedule but all within range.

Although I mention losing and taking places on the road I actually have no idea where I am in the race. I didn’t ask, and Kathryn & Robin decided not to tell me!  At this point I’m 28th.

Through T2 in <5mins and Robin and I start to run (well jog), and we leave Kathryn to pack up my mess. The first couple of miles are flat on a forest trail and road, before heading up 250m of vertical, some on muddy deforested hillside and then onto gravel track.  We walk up the hill and I enjoy a lovely ham sandwich and some salt & vinegar crisps.  Awesome lunch.  We jog over the top and down to the loch, along a gravel trail back to the road. Just a couple of miles to T2a and the magic cut-off.  We have loads of time and make T2a at 10h22m29s i.e. with more than 37m before the 11hr cut off.  I need another call of nature, grab a cup of tea and a sandwich.  

We are off to the mountain. Say bye to Kathryn and off we go. I have to admit, the euphoria of knowing I’d met my objective (subject to finishing) was a little too much, and I lost some focus.  It is a 900m climb to the top of Spidean Coire nan Clach, I start steady.  Robin is great, giving constant encouragement and feeding/watering me.  I just have to keep moving.  

However, when it got really steep, I had a bit of a psychological meltdown!  I didn’t really want to go on, I would happily have turned around.  I got a pretty stern talking to and then Robin went up not down.  I dug in. Slow steps, hands on knees to help. I had to focus on one step at a time. Robin continually encouraging me. In no time we were on the ridge, the really difficult uphill was behind us. Robin had a chat – he knew the crew! We got a nice picture and carried on. The summit was in sight.  There were no clouds, there was no wind and the big yellow sunny thing was out.  It was absolutely stunning.  

I guess it was a bit frustrating for Robin, but I mainly walked along the ridge on the way to Ruadh-stac Mòr, the highest point of the day at 1010m.  A few people passed us and we kept passing/being passed by Geddes & Ryan – which was quite nice!  Grabbed a few sweets and a few drops of water from the summit crew and then its just 1000m of descent to go.

First up is scree slope. There are two ways down, the quick way (down the centre) and the safe way (along the edge).  We went the safe way.  A few people went down the centre but didn’t really get too much advantage. After this we wound our way through the rock field to the Loch, around the Loch before the final mountain decent on a rough rock path.  It’s not the most pleasant of runs.  It was at this point the heavens opened.  We just plodded on.  As the path became less steep and the rock pathway more regular we started to jog. I’m not really sure how it happened, but once I started jogging I felt OK, and I just kept going.  Eventually the road comes into sight, its almost a relief the last section.  

Time for the victory dance. The last 8.4km are along the road, we ran the whole way in - it wasn’t quick, it wasn’t pretty but is was steady. The last mile is a little bit cruel. As you arrive at Torridon village, instead of heading straight to the village hall, to get up to 42km, the route goes out along the Loch edge before heading back into the village and up a tiny incline (that feels like a mountain) before the glorious blue arch and the finish line.  I crossed that line in 15h42m0s. (7h25m53s run split).  It was a bit emotional.  Hugs with Kathryn, hugs with Robin.  To be honest I’d have hugged anyone.  And the brilliant reward for crossing that finish line…..a bottle of beer.  I’ve not had a beer in months, I was looking forward to it.

We got some food, had some chats, more hugs and went to bed.  I was knackered and happy.  I’d made my target and would pick up my blue t-shirt in the morning.  I fell asleep with a cup of tea in my hand.

When we arrived at the hall for results on Sunday morning I was pretty stunned to find out I was 33rdoverall (and although it doesn’t count for anything in this event 1stof the SuperVets!).  Although I’ve put the positions in above these are from the results; I actually thought I was much nearer to the back of the field than I was – Kathryn & Robin then fessed up that they knew I was going pretty well, but they didn’t tell me in case I Iost focus.  Glad they did as I probably would.

The presentation morning is part of the tradition.  All athletes and supporters turn up, grab bacon butties & a cup of tea and chat about their experience amongst themselves.  At 11 o’clock we were all called to order and asked to sit down on the wooden floor – for some, not the easiest with the lovely lactic flowing through our joints.  We started with a little video the team had put together overnight – was totally awesome, and I featured twice (see link, I’m at 1m11 & 1m56!).  The prizes followed - sunglasses, fizz and a picture to the male & female winners plus Norseman entry to 1st& 2nd.  The podium got their t-shirts of blueness.  Then those who had completed five, yes five, Celtmans entered the hallowed red t-shirt club – 2 new entrants this year.  Total kudos to these people.  The raffle and the lucky dip for guaranteed Norseman entry – I didn’t win, but I may be single now if I’d won a place!  

Then a new annual award was announced.  The Chris Stirling Rock Award – it recognises someone who (like Chris) encapsulates ‘the spirit of Celtman’; i.e. through their achievements, commitment, support, etc to the Celtman community.  The inaugural winner is Ryan Maclean, who has participated 4 times, been a support runner (as he was this year) and provides other support/advice too.

It was then time to collect our t-shirts and head outside for the traditional group photo in front of the mountain.  I have never been so proud of a race t-shirt!

The day is not complete there though….after an afternoon of R&R and packing, it is back to the Torridon village hall for an evening of alcohol (other drinks were available), music and dancing.  There were many people in tartan, the celtman beer flowed well and we all talked excitedly about the race.  Virtually everyone in the room got up to dance at some point.  It was the most relaxed and enjoyable end to a race I have ever experienced.  I especially enjoyed the version of Thunderstruck by ACDC played on the piano accordion.  Amazeballs.

Before I go I need to thank two special people…. Robin, your energy and enthusiasm was infectious and never ending, without you I would not have finished; I have a debt of gratitude I can probably never repay.  Kathryn, thank you for putting up with me week-in-week-out, I guess I need to make it up to you….holiday to my next race?

I set out to write a brief race report, but I seem to have written a short novel instead!  Celtman got under my skin.  I get the whole thing now.  It is the most difficult one day event I have ever participated in, somehow managing to be simultaneously brutal and beautiful.  But it is not just the physical challenge, it doesn’t matter whether you wear white, blue, red or didn’t make it.  No-one cares.  It’s about being part of the family.  Thankyou CxTri, fellow athletes, support teams, race crew and the local people. #memoriesforlife

[theliterateape]

Wet Rat

By Paul Teodo and Tom Myers

The following is an excerpt from the forthcoming novel Cross Fit by Paul Teodo and Tom Myers.

I SPENT THE NEXT COUPLE HOURS REVIEWING HVAC SPECS FOR THE OR WITH MY FACILITIES GUY, Joe Spanski, a bald, thick armed, second generation Pole from a family of Warsaw brick masons. He told me it was impossible. “Boss, it’s cooling, not refrigeration. Them people in there are alive, it ain’t the morgue.”

“That’s what he wants. Fifty-eight degrees.”

Spanski gave me a sly look. “Have you seen his wife?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“She looks dead. Maybe he likes ‘em cold.”

She did look dead. “Thanks Joe, so we can’t get any lower than sixty?” I was pretty sure Eriksen liked them cold.

“Right boss, and with that, we’ll have staff half froze.”

Joe lumbered out of my office, tool belt rattling down the hall.

It was only ten o’clock. Too long to wait. I couldn’t stand it. I needed this job. I had a mortgage, a car payment, my kid’s college debt and alimony. I couldn’t walk away. But most important I had my pride. I tried to act like I could give a shit, but getting canned would fuck with my ego.

I stepped into Jenna’s office. “I’m going for that walk now.”

“It’s pouring.”

“I’m going to see Greta.”

“You’re not supposed to see her till…” She paused, conflicted. We hadn’t discussed the meeting, but she knew what was in store for me. She was a Christian and loyal to me — her boss. But Greta had hired right out of high school.

I was pissed. “Tell me what you know.”

“I can’t.” She turned away hiding her tears.

I grabbed her shoulder and tried to turn her around. “For Christ’s sake tell me.”

Her body tensed.

What the hell am I doing? She didn’t deserve to be the recipient of my fear.

“I’m going to her office.”

“You know she doesn’t like when her schedule is altered.”

“I’m altering it.”

She gathered herself. “Take this, it’s pouring.” She pulled a large green and white golf umbrella from her closet, Western Highlands Medical Center emblazoned on its surface.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

“God Bless you.”

I doubted it.

✶

I BENT INTO THE WIND. Rain slopped from my shoes with every step. The storm fought the umbrella trying to turn it inside out. Tommy would tell me when you’re stressed take a walk. In the freaking rain? In some twisted way I felt if bad shit was going to happen it would be better to find out if I was soaked and shivering. Like a rat.

I stomped around the campus aimlessly, shivering, reading signs and planning my defense.

Emergency Department Fitness Center Valet Parking

It always irritated me that in this town you couldn’t park your own car. I never felt comfortable here. I parked my own car.

Physician Parking

An arrow pointed into the heated garage, red warming lamps glowing in the gloom.  A black 7 Series Beemer shot by splashing dirty water on my knock-off Armani. Now I was soaked to my skivvies. The testicle Mr.Vitorri personally attended to in 1969 retracted, searching for someplace dry.

I was wet and freezing. I needed shelter. I headed into Building 2. When I yanked the door against the wind it whipped wide open. I thought the hinges would pop. “Nasty out there.” Rachel, our greeter (yes greeter) smiled as she handed me a small towel. I smiled back (why not?).

 “You’re soaked!” She realized that in spite of the eight-hour class she took on smiling, and the three hundred dollars we were invoiced for it, a big-toothed grin when your executive vice president was standing in the doorway soaked to the bone was not in accordance with that expensive training. “Good thing you have an umbrella.” She caught on to the fact I was dripping from head to toe. She ended our awkward curriculum-driven encounter with a final cliché. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” Really? Who says that shit in real life, other than those force fed the line in a three hundred dollar an hour customer service class?

“No Rachel, nothing else.” I shook Jenna’s God’s umbrella and it sprayed on the floor, the glass entryway, and even on dear smiling Rachel. “Nothing at all.”

I stood in front of one of the vents trying to warm up and dry off. A walk in the rain had not calmed me down one bit. I was irritable, discontent, and ready for a fight.

✶

I COULDN’T PUT IT OFF ANY LONGER. I sprinted toward the Admin. Building. The rain was relentless. Sheets of cold pellets bounced sideways off the asphalt cascading down the parking lot. The big umbrella lost its battle with Mother Nature.

Finally, I ducked under the canopy of the Admin. Building. Home free. Out of the downpour. But no. Not today. Keycard. I must have dropped it somewhere. Shit. I buzzed. Buzzed again. “May I help you?” Joan, Greta’s dour gatekeeper. Yeah, make it stop raining. Dry me off. In fact make this meeting just go away. “May I help you?” Again. Her annoyance made clear even through the garbled speaker.

“I don’t have my keycard!”

“Jesus,” she mumbled. The door clicked. I stomped into the lobby then stood motionless absorbing the heating lamp’s infrared rays. I shook like a wet dog.

“You’re wet.”

No shit. ”I’m fine.”

She handed me a few useless brown paper towels from the bathroom. “You’re going to need to wait. You were supposed to meet at three. She’s clearing her schedule.”

Jenna had warned them; her loyalty split between her funnyman boss and her practical fear of the person who buttered her bread.

I plopped down on the cream-colored leather chair, water sluicing off, running between the cushions. Carefully placed in front of me on a cut glass coffee table was a stainless steel carafe, tall and elegant, and two mugs, engraved in gold with the hospital logo. Precisely spaced spoons, napkins, sugar, sweetener, cream, and two cookies were rigidly arrayed, discouraging disturbance. Just like when I interviewed three years ago. It didn’t impress me then, and it didn’t now.

“She’s ready for you.”

I looked up, startled. “Ready?”

“You came to see Greta?” She looked down on me knowing full well what was about to happen. “She cleared her schedule.” Her voice like my third grade nun, Sister Lillian. Judgmental, arrogant, and punishing. I was ready for her to complete her chastisement with “You boob!” and smack me with her ruler.

“Thank you.” I said meekly, disappointed that I was so terrified.

“You make the staff uncomfortable.” “Bullshit.” What the fuck did I say that for? “See. You blurt things without thinking.”

She led to me to Greta’s office in accordance with her training. I knew my way but we were an organization that operated appropriately and people were led into Greta’s office, you didn’t stroll there on your own.

Greta didn’t look up when I walked in. I stood wet and silent as a servant, dripping on the blue sculpted carpet.

Her desk was actually a large table with ornately carved legs exuding French elegance. I know shit about furniture, but if this wasn’t Louie-the-something-French, nothing was. In contrast the papers in front of her were strewn about. A marble pen holder engraved Greta Washburn Chief Executive Officer, emphasized her importance. Neat piles of red, blue, and tan files were stacked to the left. Expensive paintings of pastoral waterfalls cascading down mountains with gurgling brooks and dark green trees hung evenly on her walls. A fish tank off to the right, flat black fish eyeballing me through the glass and a potted Norfolk Island pine big enough to climb guarded her back.

I stood silently, waiting, as she continued to pretend she was reviewing exceptionally important documents, peering through her Kate Spade reading glasses.

Tired of this subservient crap I snorted. She looked up dropping her glasses to their diamond chain. “Oh, I’m sorry. Take a seat.” She pointed with her pen to the smallish chair strategically placed in front of her desk just for this encounter. “Coffee?”

“No. No thanks.” I could be a smug prick. But now, at the moment of truth, I was starting to sweat into my already wet suit.

“You’ve been here, how long? Four or five years?”

“Three.” I tried not to sound like I was correcting her.

“Fit. I’m not sure how to describe it. You know it when you see, feel it.” She paused, looked down, and sighed, “and you know when you don’t.”

Like porn? No don’t say that.

Suddenly, the gorilla was back. I tried a deep breath, but it didn’t prevent the trembling. I had all that debt. But it was just stuff. Getting fired was so belittling I wasn’t sure I could continue. Without a drink.

“Fit?” I’d needed to say something. “I went to your classes.” Too defensive.” I’ve tried to be more tactful.” It was stupid, but I forged ahead. “Can you give me more of what you mean?”

Her lips twisted like she’d just swallowed bad medicine. She knew I was staring at her mouth and I could tell she didn’t like it.

“We have a culture. People here.” Again with the lips. I tried not to look. She placed her hand over her mouth. She poured a glass of water from a crystal pitcher engraved with two tennis players. I hated the game. “The way people treat each other. You,” she paused, sipping the water, ice clinking in the glass, “act different, it makes people feel awkward, uncomfortable. It insults them.”

I do that. I know. Sometimes because that’s the way I am and sometimes because I feel awkward.  It’s worse with women. I don’t fit. And there were women everywhere around here. I needed this job. But I needed not to have my ego torn from my chest more than this job. How could I tell people that I got canned, separated, replaced, whatever the buzzword was this month for getting fired?

But I tried. “We’re ahead of budget. Three years ago you were in the… crapper. People are happy. Patient Satisfaction rising.”

“You make the staff uncomfortable.”

“Bullshit.” What the fuck did I say that for?

“See. You blurt things without thinking. You confront our doctors. This morning with Bjorn.”

The asshole already got to her. “He’s an asshole.”

“Again. You don’t think.”

Actually I think about what I’m going to blurt out and then I do it anyway. That gets me into trouble.

She was right. I didn’t fit in here. Fuck her and these pampered, arrogant, indulgent, kiss-ass doctors. I decided right there I wanted out. “Thank you for the opportunity to work here. I learned a lot from you.” I was unaware I could say such bullshit so sincerely.

“You don’t mean that. You don’t respect me. It’s written all over you.” I didn’t, it was, and like the asshole I am, rarely tried to hide it. Now I saw where it got me. Out the fucking door.

“You may not believe this Greta, but I am sorry if I have caused you or others any harm.”

She studied me. She looked down at her desk. Shook her head. Face softening. Lips normal. “You have a lot of talent. Learn how to use it without shoving it in people’s faces.”

“I do that when I’m feeling less than.” I did, and I also knew that an asshole doesn’t evoke much empathy.

“Talk to HR about your separation package and your rights. You can come back this weekend and clean out your personal belongings or do it today. Your choice. Please place the articles on this list in this envelope and deliver to HR by Monday.” She handed me the list and the envelope. She extended her hand. I grasped it. She gripped mine firmly. “I wish you well.”

I believe she did. But I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe that’s part of what she meant about fit. I get these feelings, they burn inside me until they force their way out. They do me no good. And here I was again.

Everybody knew. Her assistant. Jenna. Security, who now stood at the door, just in case. They reported to me. I was the last to know. My pride was shattered. Fear filled my chest. I tried to hold my head up. It’d be over soon. I’d done it to others. Now it was my turn. The second time for me. The first time. I was a kid, twenty-two, helper on a beer truck. I wasn’t stealing, it was the driver. I didn’t rat him out.

Out the door. The torrent had turned to a drizzle. I walked aimlessly towards my car searching for my keys. Should I leave? Go back to my office? It really didn’t matter. Two hours ago I was in charge of multi-million dollar budgets and hundreds of people, who at times respected or feared me. Now some would be celebrating and some might be mourning my demise. Shortly, I’d be forgotten. Everybody survives without you, to think they won’t is bullshit. Anything else is an over assessment of my importance. I’m just a guy. Not a savior.

The wind had died. I was both sweating and shivering. I felt very much alone. A year was going to be hard to get.

I had nothing to report, and no one to report to. It was barely noon. I hadn’t spoken to my ex in twelve years. My two boys were gone, one in Fiji teaching yoga and meditation, the other living in the city at a job he’d just started. They didn’t need my grief. My dog loved me, but lately it seemed like I bored him. Most likely when I got home I’d find a pile on the floor to welcome me.

I’d clean out the office later. I found my car in the visitor lot where I always parked. I pressed my fob. Nothing, not a twitch or honk or anything. Again. Nothing. Dead. Just like me. I stabbed the key into the door and twisted the lock open. I slid into the seat. My soggy suit stuck to my chilled skin.

And yes, Rebecca was gone. After four years she’d left the ring on the nightstand and shut the door. She had pushed for that ring. But we never set the date. Never called me her fiancé. Walked out with a sad look on her face, but not enough sadness to get her to stay. Maybe we weren’t a good fit either. I don’t think it was the drinking. I kept that from her pretty good. And the few times I didn’t she joined in. Her reasons were just as clear as Greta’s. “We’re going nowhere. We don’t communicate. You’re far away and we have no future.” Stuff I knew was more true than not. So instead of fighting for us, I let us drift away.

She was right. I didn’t fit in here. Fuck her and these pampered, arrogant, indulgent, kiss-ass doctors.

A triple Dewar’s White Label with a splash of water would go good right now, but I was almost at a year. The last time I had that drink I woke up in Mexico laying on a cot embracing a bearded goat. Turns out I’m not a farm animal kind of guy.  So I couldn’t let Rebecca’s rejection and the evisceration by Greta with all its accompanying humiliation drive me to the bottle.

I could hear Tommy telling me “cunning, baffling, powerful”. He talked like that. He was my sponsor. And he worried too much.

I should call him. I always felt better when I did. He’d chew my ass. But I was sixty, not a kid. And I just got fired.

I started the car. Cold air blasted my legs. I was jumpy, rubbing my hands together, waiting for the air to warm. Some idiot was barking on sports talk radio. I didn’t need his big mouth yelling at me. He was trying to make everything sound important or profound, but like he was from the neighborhood. He probably was a media-wise shill, from an Ivy League school, knocking down a couple hundred K a year, selling Viagra to guys who didn’t have anything better to do in the middle of the day. Now, I was one of them. How long before I started calling in?

I’d call Tommy instead. He’d give me his crap, and I’d listen, then feel better, and then he’d throw in, “Let’s go to a meeting.” A meeting was his answer for everything. Sometimes, you know, it’s not. Sometimes you have to hit the problem between the eyes. He’d always say “Pause, pray, proceed.” Sometimes it was just too much. I threw on Puccini’s Tosca instead. Depressing as hell, full of torture, murder, and suicide, but the music was beautiful.

I backed up the car. The white Crown Vic I signed a requisition for just months ago edged closer. For Christ’s sake, what did Greta think? I was going to go nuts? Randy, the old guy, sat behind the wheel, Brylcreemed hair and weird handlebar mustache. Junior, his sidekick, a steroid pumped over-caffeinated blonde kid coiled next to him, ready to jump out of the car. Both carefully watching to make sure I left without incident. Security. Highlands’ finest.

I threw it into gear. Randy and Junior in pursuit. What the hell, give them something to do, I’d liven up their day, and make them earn their money. I drove slowly around the campus heading towards Greta’s office. Would they just follow me or flip on their lights? Training would indicate caution, but no lights. I shouldn’t be doing this. One was old, near retirement, and the other’s juice-strained mind was totally unpredictable. As I exited the campus they looked relieved, staring between the wipers on the Crown Vic. With a nod they each saluted, acknowledging my final departure. I was touched by their deference and as always, disappointed in my behavior.